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Authors: Jim Greenfield
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land of Tuors, but I have never seen one."
"Tuors?" asked Crestan. "Aren't they some kind of dwarf?"
"Short of stature, I believe they are human.," said Kirkes. "A rustic race, specializing in weaving. They keep to their own land, rarely venturing out; it's rare to see one in the three kingdoms. They let traders distribute their wares. I think I might have seen one once, but I am not sure."
"Childhood fantasy," said Crestan. He spat. "I have no time for pixies. A man must do men's work, not listen to nursery tales."
"Perhaps," said Kirkes. "Children seem to have a better grasp of life's mysteries than adults." Crestan snorted.
"Are we going there?" asked Watty. "Where the Tuors are?"
"If the sorceress goes that way, we will follow her," said Kirkes. "We must be cautious. I don't want the Tuors to think we are invading them. They are said to be quite adept with their bows."
"Who cares?" said Crestan. "Treteste is the power to worry about, not your Tuors. Little people cannot withstand knights. They will move out of our way."
"You seem to forget that Men are late comers to Anavar. Other races have been here for centuries. We are not as feared as you might think. Oh, Men are dangerous but so are the other races and if we aren't familiar with them then caution is warranted. Do not stumble your way into battle with an unknown opponent Crestan. Many mysteries in Anavar have not been revealed to Men. The other races understand this world more fully than we do."
"Well, it is time for them to bow to Men. I wish I had gotten my hands on that Daerlan at Stormridge."
"Do you think so?" laughed Kirkes. "Navir? You think you could have handled Navir? You are more ignorant than I thought. Yes, I too wish you had found him. Then we wouldn't be having this stupid conversation because you would be dead."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, Crestan. I would. You are a disgrace to knighthood. Your only conscience is gold. You have not earned your title. You only supported Treteste because he knighted you. And because you supported Treteste you were knighted."
"Yeates wouldn't knight me."
"He was not a stupid man, whatever his faults. What does Treteste see in you? You are stupid with only a marginal understanding of warfare. There are times when I am not sure if you will injure yourself with your own sword. I fear for your squire's safety."
Crestan sputtered in anger, yet controlled himself to avoid attacking Kirkes which would only end in Crestan' death.
The others were careful not to laugh, knowing Crestan' temper. Crestan was a burly man, red-faced and violent. He had killed two men in unprovoked rage last month. Crestan was not an even match for Kirkes but the others needed to look to their lives. Crestan always released his temper in some way and if the gold and black knight would chop him into pieces in return then Crestan must look elsewhere for satisfaction. No one wanted to provide Crestan an easy target.
The day became long, riding under the sun in their armor. Crestan was muttering under his breath, scowling at Kirkes, who rode as if nothing disturbed him.
They had set out early that morning from the castle at Stormridge. Soldiers discovered that the sorceress Wynne had escaped sometime during the night. A guard recalled a woman matching her description passed by a group of soldiers who had been drinking. They tried to force her to join them but she escaped. The soldiers couldn't recall how she got away. The enraged Baron beheaded each man involved.
After a time, Kirkes approached the Baron and requested the opportunity to scour the countryside for the sorceress. The Baron had agreed at once but did not let Kirkes chose any companion other than his squire. Kirkes felt stung when his rival, Sir Crestan, had been chosen along with two of Crestan' most trusted vassals. Kirkes wondered at Treteste's motives. Had the king, he was king now in reality, lost his trust in Kirkes? Had the king finally listened to the gossip
"Tuors?" asked Crestan. "Aren't they some kind of dwarf?"
"Short of stature, I believe they are human.," said Kirkes. "A rustic race, specializing in weaving. They keep to their own land, rarely venturing out; it's rare to see one in the three kingdoms. They let traders distribute their wares. I think I might have seen one once, but I am not sure."
"Childhood fantasy," said Crestan. He spat. "I have no time for pixies. A man must do men's work, not listen to nursery tales."
"Perhaps," said Kirkes. "Children seem to have a better grasp of life's mysteries than adults." Crestan snorted.
"Are we going there?" asked Watty. "Where the Tuors are?"
"If the sorceress goes that way, we will follow her," said Kirkes. "We must be cautious. I don't want the Tuors to think we are invading them. They are said to be quite adept with their bows."
"Who cares?" said Crestan. "Treteste is the power to worry about, not your Tuors. Little people cannot withstand knights. They will move out of our way."
"You seem to forget that Men are late comers to Anavar. Other races have been here for centuries. We are not as feared as you might think. Oh, Men are dangerous but so are the other races and if we aren't familiar with them then caution is warranted. Do not stumble your way into battle with an unknown opponent Crestan. Many mysteries in Anavar have not been revealed to Men. The other races understand this world more fully than we do."
"Well, it is time for them to bow to Men. I wish I had gotten my hands on that Daerlan at Stormridge."
"Do you think so?" laughed Kirkes. "Navir? You think you could have handled Navir? You are more ignorant than I thought. Yes, I too wish you had found him. Then we wouldn't be having this stupid conversation because you would be dead."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, Crestan. I would. You are a disgrace to knighthood. Your only conscience is gold. You have not earned your title. You only supported Treteste because he knighted you. And because you supported Treteste you were knighted."
"Yeates wouldn't knight me."
"He was not a stupid man, whatever his faults. What does Treteste see in you? You are stupid with only a marginal understanding of warfare. There are times when I am not sure if you will injure yourself with your own sword. I fear for your squire's safety."
Crestan sputtered in anger, yet controlled himself to avoid attacking Kirkes which would only end in Crestan' death.
The others were careful not to laugh, knowing Crestan' temper. Crestan was a burly man, red-faced and violent. He had killed two men in unprovoked rage last month. Crestan was not an even match for Kirkes but the others needed to look to their lives. Crestan always released his temper in some way and if the gold and black knight would chop him into pieces in return then Crestan must look elsewhere for satisfaction. No one wanted to provide Crestan an easy target.
The day became long, riding under the sun in their armor. Crestan was muttering under his breath, scowling at Kirkes, who rode as if nothing disturbed him.
They had set out early that morning from the castle at Stormridge. Soldiers discovered that the sorceress Wynne had escaped sometime during the night. A guard recalled a woman matching her description passed by a group of soldiers who had been drinking. They tried to force her to join them but she escaped. The soldiers couldn't recall how she got away. The enraged Baron beheaded each man involved.
After a time, Kirkes approached the Baron and requested the opportunity to scour the countryside for the sorceress. The Baron had agreed at once but did not let Kirkes chose any companion other than his squire. Kirkes felt stung when his rival, Sir Crestan, had been chosen along with two of Crestan' most trusted vassals. Kirkes wondered at Treteste's motives. Had the king, he was king now in reality, lost his trust in Kirkes? Had the king finally listened to the gossip
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