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Authors: Jim Greenfield
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the innkeeper and directions to the room. He climbed two flights of stairs, knocking at the door indicated.
"Who is it?"
"Brother Carle."
The door opened quickly. Dellana's hair glistened as if she had washed it. Her tunic fit snugly, distracting Carle with the contours of her body. "Come in, come in. What are you doing here?"
"I need to talk to someone, but it may endanger you."
"How?"
"I heard a confession today. The Baroness."
"Oh, I see." Her eyes searched his face. "And you don't know what to do with the information?"
"You are perceptive. That is exactly what the problem is."
"Lord Daass would want to know what you heard regardless if it was bound under confession or not."
"Yes, I know that! Tell me something I don't know. Am I a servant of Cothos, or of Lord Daass?"
"Sit down, dear one. I cannot answer that for you. It is a question for you alone."
"What would you do?"
"Careful. You might not want to know. I have hidden passions of my own."
"You do?"
She laughed. "I better rephrase that. You don't know if I favor Daass or not. I could give you an answer to influence your decision one way or another. I think it is wholly up to you and I will not give you my opinion."
"What will you give me?"
"Don't sound so hurt. Sometimes you are too trusting. You don't know me, Carle. You could make a mistake."
"Or I could be overwhelmed with happiness."
She laughed and hugged him. His lips sought hers but she pushed him away.
"Not yet. Not yet. We have much to do. I still have to seek out Sir Kirkes. We must find out all the facts before we act. And carefully. Garlac is watching us. He probably knows you had an audience with the Baroness." Carle's mouth dropped open and his shoulders sagged.
"My life is an error."
"Don't be so melancholy. Go home, sleep, and come back tomorrow. We shall have a picnic together."
"All right. I'll do that." He looked longingly at her as she closed the door.
Behind her, the closet opened.
"Interesting," said Garlac. "You two are more interesting than I had hoped."
"Leave, Garlac. You were allowed to listen. I shall do no more."
"Allowed to listen? Well, you hold yourself high, Dellana. Remember where you were when I found you."
"Shut up! Out! Or I will shout for the Guard."
"The Vizier of the Brotherhood of the Rose has no fear of common soldiers."
"I'll cry 'rape'! I am known here. You are the enemy. And I am still handy with a dirk."
"You have made your point. Remember, I am followed myself."
"What?"
"Daass has people following me. He trusts no one. Your actions must be discreet. The old bastard doesn't miss a trick."
"Out!"
"I'm leaving." He kissed her as he passed. She slapped at him; her hand caught by his. "Your spirit is one of the things I liked best about you when I met you. I still cherish it."
She slammed the door. She put her face in her hands; silently sobbing.
Chapter 5
From time to time Kirkes found signs of her passing, continuing higher into the hill country. A stray footprint, bent grass, flecks of blood; and a piece of cloth snagged by a low bramble; Kirkes missed few signs. From the depression of her footprints he guessed she was injured in her escape from Stormridge. She moved much faster than he expected, refusing to stop until she reached her destination, wherever that might be. In hindsight, he wished he had set a faster pace; a thought voiced repeatedly, by Sir Crestan, a perpetual thorn in his side. They moved faster, but not too fast. They could not risk tiring their mounts. To the north, Trolls haunted the passes, waiting for travelers. Even mounted armored knights find the Trolls too much to handle, and they were but two knights.
"What's beyond these hills, Sir Kirkes?" asked Watty, one of the soldiers accompanying Kirkes. It was a party of six. Sir Kirkes, Sir Crestan, and their squires, Rocodt and Birate, respectively, plus Watty and Holder, two foot soldiers who often worked with Crestan, being familiar with his moods.
"It is the
"Who is it?"
"Brother Carle."
The door opened quickly. Dellana's hair glistened as if she had washed it. Her tunic fit snugly, distracting Carle with the contours of her body. "Come in, come in. What are you doing here?"
"I need to talk to someone, but it may endanger you."
"How?"
"I heard a confession today. The Baroness."
"Oh, I see." Her eyes searched his face. "And you don't know what to do with the information?"
"You are perceptive. That is exactly what the problem is."
"Lord Daass would want to know what you heard regardless if it was bound under confession or not."
"Yes, I know that! Tell me something I don't know. Am I a servant of Cothos, or of Lord Daass?"
"Sit down, dear one. I cannot answer that for you. It is a question for you alone."
"What would you do?"
"Careful. You might not want to know. I have hidden passions of my own."
"You do?"
She laughed. "I better rephrase that. You don't know if I favor Daass or not. I could give you an answer to influence your decision one way or another. I think it is wholly up to you and I will not give you my opinion."
"What will you give me?"
"Don't sound so hurt. Sometimes you are too trusting. You don't know me, Carle. You could make a mistake."
"Or I could be overwhelmed with happiness."
She laughed and hugged him. His lips sought hers but she pushed him away.
"Not yet. Not yet. We have much to do. I still have to seek out Sir Kirkes. We must find out all the facts before we act. And carefully. Garlac is watching us. He probably knows you had an audience with the Baroness." Carle's mouth dropped open and his shoulders sagged.
"My life is an error."
"Don't be so melancholy. Go home, sleep, and come back tomorrow. We shall have a picnic together."
"All right. I'll do that." He looked longingly at her as she closed the door.
Behind her, the closet opened.
"Interesting," said Garlac. "You two are more interesting than I had hoped."
"Leave, Garlac. You were allowed to listen. I shall do no more."
"Allowed to listen? Well, you hold yourself high, Dellana. Remember where you were when I found you."
"Shut up! Out! Or I will shout for the Guard."
"The Vizier of the Brotherhood of the Rose has no fear of common soldiers."
"I'll cry 'rape'! I am known here. You are the enemy. And I am still handy with a dirk."
"You have made your point. Remember, I am followed myself."
"What?"
"Daass has people following me. He trusts no one. Your actions must be discreet. The old bastard doesn't miss a trick."
"Out!"
"I'm leaving." He kissed her as he passed. She slapped at him; her hand caught by his. "Your spirit is one of the things I liked best about you when I met you. I still cherish it."
She slammed the door. She put her face in her hands; silently sobbing.
Chapter 5
From time to time Kirkes found signs of her passing, continuing higher into the hill country. A stray footprint, bent grass, flecks of blood; and a piece of cloth snagged by a low bramble; Kirkes missed few signs. From the depression of her footprints he guessed she was injured in her escape from Stormridge. She moved much faster than he expected, refusing to stop until she reached her destination, wherever that might be. In hindsight, he wished he had set a faster pace; a thought voiced repeatedly, by Sir Crestan, a perpetual thorn in his side. They moved faster, but not too fast. They could not risk tiring their mounts. To the north, Trolls haunted the passes, waiting for travelers. Even mounted armored knights find the Trolls too much to handle, and they were but two knights.
"What's beyond these hills, Sir Kirkes?" asked Watty, one of the soldiers accompanying Kirkes. It was a party of six. Sir Kirkes, Sir Crestan, and their squires, Rocodt and Birate, respectively, plus Watty and Holder, two foot soldiers who often worked with Crestan, being familiar with his moods.
"It is the
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