furiously.
Jolle hurried into the common room. He took one look at his wife and, sensing something was terribly wrong, gave the signal. Instantly the inn’s occupants leaped from their tables. The shutters were closed, the door locked, and lookouts headed upstairs to keep watch. Caledan entered as Jolle was trying in vain to calm down the healer.
“She has gone too far!” Estah repeated, her cheeks flushed. She snatched the board bearing Lord Cutter’s Rules from the wall and flung it to the floor.
“Ravendas?” Caledan ventured, his expression grim. Look at this,” Estah said, her voice trembling as she thrust a crumpled-up piece of parchment toward Caledan. “I saw it just a few minutes ago, posted in the free market.” Caledan unfolded the parchment. It was an official notice. Quickly he read it, his heart sinking.
“What’s going on?” Mari asked as she descended the stairs. She and Caledan usually kept out of the common room, but the commotion had brought her down. Caledan handed the parchment to her, and she read the declaration with a solemn face.
“It looks like Ravendas has arranged a bit of entertainment for the city,” he said, gritting his teeth. “There’s going to be a public hanging tomorrow afternoon. One of the criminals to be executed is an old friend of ours. His name is Ferret.”
Estah sank down into a chair. All the spirit seemed to go out of her, and she buried her face in her hands.
“It’s all right, wife, I’m here,” Jolle said, holding her shoulders tightly. “All’s going to be well. You’ll see.”
Estah wiped her eyes with the corner of her skirt. “I’m sorry, husband. I’m weary, that’s all. I’m just so weary of Ravendas ruining everything that I care about.” She shook her head. “She’s wounded this city so deeply, I wonder if we will ever be able to heal it”
Mari looked at Caledan, her face tense. The message was clear: We have to do something.
He nodded. There was no question about it. Ferret had once been one of his best, if not most trustworthy, friends. He was not about to let Ravendas claim another member of the Fellowship.
“Estah,” Caledan said gravely, kneeling down to talk to the healer, “Ferret got us out of more scrapes than I can count during those years we all traveled together. We both owe our lives to him, several times over. This is the time for us to repay him. We can’t lose hope.
“Still, a little extra help wouldn’t hurt,” Caledan went on, standing up. “Estah, you said once that Tyveris still lived near the city. Can you tell me how I might find him?”
“I think so,” Estah ventured, “but…”
“No buts,” Caledan said, striking his palm with a fist. “If we’re really going to rescue Ferret, we’re going to need that warrior’s sword.”
Caledan rode through the New City toward Iriaebor’s north gate, keeping the hood of his blue traveling cloak drawn over his head. It seemed as if city guards were more common than rats these days, and he had no doubt they were still searching for him and the Harper. It had felt a little strange donning the old cloak that morning, knowing that Cormik’s young apprentice, Dario, had died wearing it. But Cormik had given it back to Caledan after Dario’s body had been returned to the city for burial. And Caledan couldn’t bring himself to throw the cloak away. He had worn it for too many years, on too many journeys.
A trio of guards were keeping watch over the city’s north gate. They might have given Caledan some trouble, but they were distracted by a flock of sheep being driven into the city for slaughter. The sheep balked as a red-faced peasant man tried futilely to herd them through the gates. The scene erupted into a cacophony of bleating and cursing. Caledan took the opportunity to slip through the gates unnoticed.
“Remind me to be grateful the next time I eat mutton stew,” Caledan commented to Mista as they left the walls of the city behind. The
Jolle hurried into the common room. He took one look at his wife and, sensing something was terribly wrong, gave the signal. Instantly the inn’s occupants leaped from their tables. The shutters were closed, the door locked, and lookouts headed upstairs to keep watch. Caledan entered as Jolle was trying in vain to calm down the healer.
“She has gone too far!” Estah repeated, her cheeks flushed. She snatched the board bearing Lord Cutter’s Rules from the wall and flung it to the floor.
“Ravendas?” Caledan ventured, his expression grim. Look at this,” Estah said, her voice trembling as she thrust a crumpled-up piece of parchment toward Caledan. “I saw it just a few minutes ago, posted in the free market.” Caledan unfolded the parchment. It was an official notice. Quickly he read it, his heart sinking.
“What’s going on?” Mari asked as she descended the stairs. She and Caledan usually kept out of the common room, but the commotion had brought her down. Caledan handed the parchment to her, and she read the declaration with a solemn face.
“It looks like Ravendas has arranged a bit of entertainment for the city,” he said, gritting his teeth. “There’s going to be a public hanging tomorrow afternoon. One of the criminals to be executed is an old friend of ours. His name is Ferret.”
Estah sank down into a chair. All the spirit seemed to go out of her, and she buried her face in her hands.
“It’s all right, wife, I’m here,” Jolle said, holding her shoulders tightly. “All’s going to be well. You’ll see.”
Estah wiped her eyes with the corner of her skirt. “I’m sorry, husband. I’m weary, that’s all. I’m just so weary of Ravendas ruining everything that I care about.” She shook her head. “She’s wounded this city so deeply, I wonder if we will ever be able to heal it”
Mari looked at Caledan, her face tense. The message was clear: We have to do something.
He nodded. There was no question about it. Ferret had once been one of his best, if not most trustworthy, friends. He was not about to let Ravendas claim another member of the Fellowship.
“Estah,” Caledan said gravely, kneeling down to talk to the healer, “Ferret got us out of more scrapes than I can count during those years we all traveled together. We both owe our lives to him, several times over. This is the time for us to repay him. We can’t lose hope.
“Still, a little extra help wouldn’t hurt,” Caledan went on, standing up. “Estah, you said once that Tyveris still lived near the city. Can you tell me how I might find him?”
“I think so,” Estah ventured, “but…”
“No buts,” Caledan said, striking his palm with a fist. “If we’re really going to rescue Ferret, we’re going to need that warrior’s sword.”
Caledan rode through the New City toward Iriaebor’s north gate, keeping the hood of his blue traveling cloak drawn over his head. It seemed as if city guards were more common than rats these days, and he had no doubt they were still searching for him and the Harper. It had felt a little strange donning the old cloak that morning, knowing that Cormik’s young apprentice, Dario, had died wearing it. But Cormik had given it back to Caledan after Dario’s body had been returned to the city for burial. And Caledan couldn’t bring himself to throw the cloak away. He had worn it for too many years, on too many journeys.
A trio of guards were keeping watch over the city’s north gate. They might have given Caledan some trouble, but they were distracted by a flock of sheep being driven into the city for slaughter. The sheep balked as a red-faced peasant man tried futilely to herd them through the gates. The scene erupted into a cacophony of bleating and cursing. Caledan took the opportunity to slip through the gates unnoticed.
“Remind me to be grateful the next time I eat mutton stew,” Caledan commented to Mista as they left the walls of the city behind. The
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