action.
However, it was not the place of humble clerics to question the will of the king, and Utha was nothing if not a dutiful cleric.
‘Torian, we still have orders and those orders are not going to change just because you have a moment of petulance,’ Utha said with friendly tolerance.
‘Brother, we have known each other a long time, but I still find your manner a little difficult. Our ways are different.’ He leant back a little and composed himself. ‘Very well, brother, what are the orders from Arnon?’
‘That’s my boy,’ Utha said with a smile. ‘The duke’s son is still at large somewhere and, as none of you have found him yet, I’m to accompany you and assist.’
‘Utha, when I left Arnon, I was hunting a man whose father had been named a traitor, now I’m hunting a man whose homeland has been destroyed and his people massacred… the situation has changed somewhat, I’m sure you’ll agree.’
Word had been sent to the church city at the same time as the Red fleet had launched; Bromvy of Canarn was to be found and captured with all speed. He’d been named a Black Guard and stripped of his honour. Clerics of the quest had been despatched throughout Tor Funweir to search for the young lord, but so far he’d remained hidden, with only Torian reporting a possible lead.
‘Actually, no, I don’t agree. He still needs to be found and you still need to find him. What has changed?’ Utha said sternly.
‘He now has nothing to live for… that makes a man very dangerous,’ Torian replied.
‘Bromvy is still only twenty-four years old, worldly and clever for his age, but a young man nonetheless.’ Utha put his hand on Torian’s shoulder and smiled.
A knock on the door and the young squire tentatively poked his head into the room. ‘May I enter, master?’
Torian kept his eyes on Utha for a moment. ‘Yes, Randall, come in.’
The squire stepped in and closed the door behind him. He placed a bottle of red wine on the low wooden table and backed away quickly.
Utha grabbed the bottle and wrenched the cork out. ‘To your good health, young Torian.’
He took a deep drink from the bottle. It was rich and fruity – not high in quality – but sufficient to slake his thirst. ‘Now all we need are a couple of paid women and we have a party.’ Utha grinned and decided to be more formal. ‘What leads, brother, to where the young lord has fled?’
A thin smile intruded on Torian’s stern features. ‘This very day I was planning to go and meet with a man in the Kasbah who, I’m reliably informed, helped Bromvy escape Tiris – a man of Ro Leith called Glenwood, a forger by all accounts.’
Utha nodded and was glad that Torian was efficient. Despite what he may have said, he agreed that the knights of the Red had acted rashly. However, Utha was pragmatic towards the other clerics and considered it pointless to be angered by their actions.
‘What led you to Glenwood?’ asked the Black cleric.
‘I paid a beggar in the poor quarter who saw the young lord riding south. This led me to a watchman who remembered his sword, an ornate blade and a noble pommel with a cast of Brytag, the World Raven. Everyone who leaves via the south gate is searched, but no one searched this man. There are only so many ways of leaving the city via the south without being questioned. Our young lord seems to have found one.’
Brytag was an old Ranen god and the patron of the house of Canarn. He was said to sit on Rowanoco’s shoulder and to embody both luck and wisdom, which many Ranen saw as being the same thing.
‘The watchman remembers him having an official seal from the Red church. He can’t have got a genuine one, so I found the only forger in town who is stupid enough to deal with a Black Guard.’
Torian had not been idle in the week since he left Ro Arnon, and Utha was impressed with the work he’d done.
‘So, I’ll finish my wine and we’ll go and see Mr Glenwood, yes?’ Utha asked.
‘That
However, it was not the place of humble clerics to question the will of the king, and Utha was nothing if not a dutiful cleric.
‘Torian, we still have orders and those orders are not going to change just because you have a moment of petulance,’ Utha said with friendly tolerance.
‘Brother, we have known each other a long time, but I still find your manner a little difficult. Our ways are different.’ He leant back a little and composed himself. ‘Very well, brother, what are the orders from Arnon?’
‘That’s my boy,’ Utha said with a smile. ‘The duke’s son is still at large somewhere and, as none of you have found him yet, I’m to accompany you and assist.’
‘Utha, when I left Arnon, I was hunting a man whose father had been named a traitor, now I’m hunting a man whose homeland has been destroyed and his people massacred… the situation has changed somewhat, I’m sure you’ll agree.’
Word had been sent to the church city at the same time as the Red fleet had launched; Bromvy of Canarn was to be found and captured with all speed. He’d been named a Black Guard and stripped of his honour. Clerics of the quest had been despatched throughout Tor Funweir to search for the young lord, but so far he’d remained hidden, with only Torian reporting a possible lead.
‘Actually, no, I don’t agree. He still needs to be found and you still need to find him. What has changed?’ Utha said sternly.
‘He now has nothing to live for… that makes a man very dangerous,’ Torian replied.
‘Bromvy is still only twenty-four years old, worldly and clever for his age, but a young man nonetheless.’ Utha put his hand on Torian’s shoulder and smiled.
A knock on the door and the young squire tentatively poked his head into the room. ‘May I enter, master?’
Torian kept his eyes on Utha for a moment. ‘Yes, Randall, come in.’
The squire stepped in and closed the door behind him. He placed a bottle of red wine on the low wooden table and backed away quickly.
Utha grabbed the bottle and wrenched the cork out. ‘To your good health, young Torian.’
He took a deep drink from the bottle. It was rich and fruity – not high in quality – but sufficient to slake his thirst. ‘Now all we need are a couple of paid women and we have a party.’ Utha grinned and decided to be more formal. ‘What leads, brother, to where the young lord has fled?’
A thin smile intruded on Torian’s stern features. ‘This very day I was planning to go and meet with a man in the Kasbah who, I’m reliably informed, helped Bromvy escape Tiris – a man of Ro Leith called Glenwood, a forger by all accounts.’
Utha nodded and was glad that Torian was efficient. Despite what he may have said, he agreed that the knights of the Red had acted rashly. However, Utha was pragmatic towards the other clerics and considered it pointless to be angered by their actions.
‘What led you to Glenwood?’ asked the Black cleric.
‘I paid a beggar in the poor quarter who saw the young lord riding south. This led me to a watchman who remembered his sword, an ornate blade and a noble pommel with a cast of Brytag, the World Raven. Everyone who leaves via the south gate is searched, but no one searched this man. There are only so many ways of leaving the city via the south without being questioned. Our young lord seems to have found one.’
Brytag was an old Ranen god and the patron of the house of Canarn. He was said to sit on Rowanoco’s shoulder and to embody both luck and wisdom, which many Ranen saw as being the same thing.
‘The watchman remembers him having an official seal from the Red church. He can’t have got a genuine one, so I found the only forger in town who is stupid enough to deal with a Black Guard.’
Torian had not been idle in the week since he left Ro Arnon, and Utha was impressed with the work he’d done.
‘So, I’ll finish my wine and we’ll go and see Mr Glenwood, yes?’ Utha asked.
‘That
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