Phemanderac said to Kurr, 'at least as far as the House of Lore. The Archivist awaits me, and I would keep faith with him.'
The other members of the Company cried out that they too wanted to seek the help of the guard, to do something to aid their friends.
'There is no use in your all coming,' the old farmer told them. 'There's nothing you can do about this now. Go back and tell Foilzie what happened.'
Kurr, Farr and Phemanderac started back up the Vitulian Way, leaving the others standing for a confused moment in the deserted street. Eventually, in a silence punctuated only by Indrett's sobs, the Company made the slow walk home to Foilzie's tenement.
Under a fiery sky, in the northern reaches of the vast steppes of Kanabar, brown-robed figures wielding cruelly barbed whips barked out orders, sending many thousands of warriors backwards and forwards across the plain with mechanical precision. Andratan had decided this war would be the last ever fought, and was prepared to invest a little more time to ensure that both strategy and execution were perfect; thus the many weeks of manoeuvres in the midst of this wasteland. The commanders were only too aware of the importance of perfection. He of Andratan was rumoured to be coming personally to inspect his army, the first time he had left his fortress in living memory. Death would come to those who proved themselves inadequate. Whips cracked; ranks of soldiers wheeled left and right; swords were drawn, swords were sheathed. Incantations, shouted in strange tongues, reverberated across the dusty fields like curses levelled against life itself. They spared no effort. All were aware their biggest test would be the imminent visit of their Leader. Beside this, even the coming invasion itself held few fears.
'Just tell me what he's supposed to have done!' Kurr said, a little more loudly than he intended.
To his mounting frustration, the guard continued to ignore him.
'We are Falthans! We come from Firanes! We are guaranteed our rights by the Treaty of Fealty!'
This last brought a response from the guard, a curling of his upper lip.
'I think we're forgetting an important fact about this city,' Farr said to Kurr. With that, he turned to the guard seated behind his desk, pulled a number of coins from his purse and spread them on the table.
'Ah, the Firanese.' The guard expertly scooped the money into a drawer as though it was second nature. 'You're finally speaking valuably enough for me to hear.'
'What happened to our companions? Why have they been arrested? With what have they been charged?' Kurr could feel himself reaching the end of his patience, never a very long road but particularly short late at night on the bleak day the Council rejected their petition, and their companions were snatched from the street.
'Three questions! I'm not sure I heard all three.' The guard glanced pointedly towards Kurr's purse.
'Very well! I'll treat this as a donation to your wife and family.'
'Think of it rather as a contribution to the coffers of the local innkeeper,' the guard replied pleasantly. 'You can see diat I'm a busy man, so I'll be brief. Your friends have been arrested and imprisoned in a holding cell pending trial on charges of a most serious nature.
According to a reliable witness one of the three assaulted an Instruian guard, rendering him incapable of executing his duty since. As you can no doubt appreciate, the government of this city views such actions with extreme seriousness.'
'How badly is this guard hurt?' Kurr's already wrinkled forehead creased further.
'He sustained head injuries of a most—'
'Yes, I know; of a most serious nature. But tell me: how could a mere boy like Leith overcome a heavily armed guard? If this guard is anything like yourself, I cannot imagine anyone hurting him.'
The flattery had no effect. 'I merely pass on information.'
Kurr sighed deeply, and pulled a small bag from his pocket. 'How much to have him released?'
The guard looked
The other members of the Company cried out that they too wanted to seek the help of the guard, to do something to aid their friends.
'There is no use in your all coming,' the old farmer told them. 'There's nothing you can do about this now. Go back and tell Foilzie what happened.'
Kurr, Farr and Phemanderac started back up the Vitulian Way, leaving the others standing for a confused moment in the deserted street. Eventually, in a silence punctuated only by Indrett's sobs, the Company made the slow walk home to Foilzie's tenement.
Under a fiery sky, in the northern reaches of the vast steppes of Kanabar, brown-robed figures wielding cruelly barbed whips barked out orders, sending many thousands of warriors backwards and forwards across the plain with mechanical precision. Andratan had decided this war would be the last ever fought, and was prepared to invest a little more time to ensure that both strategy and execution were perfect; thus the many weeks of manoeuvres in the midst of this wasteland. The commanders were only too aware of the importance of perfection. He of Andratan was rumoured to be coming personally to inspect his army, the first time he had left his fortress in living memory. Death would come to those who proved themselves inadequate. Whips cracked; ranks of soldiers wheeled left and right; swords were drawn, swords were sheathed. Incantations, shouted in strange tongues, reverberated across the dusty fields like curses levelled against life itself. They spared no effort. All were aware their biggest test would be the imminent visit of their Leader. Beside this, even the coming invasion itself held few fears.
'Just tell me what he's supposed to have done!' Kurr said, a little more loudly than he intended.
To his mounting frustration, the guard continued to ignore him.
'We are Falthans! We come from Firanes! We are guaranteed our rights by the Treaty of Fealty!'
This last brought a response from the guard, a curling of his upper lip.
'I think we're forgetting an important fact about this city,' Farr said to Kurr. With that, he turned to the guard seated behind his desk, pulled a number of coins from his purse and spread them on the table.
'Ah, the Firanese.' The guard expertly scooped the money into a drawer as though it was second nature. 'You're finally speaking valuably enough for me to hear.'
'What happened to our companions? Why have they been arrested? With what have they been charged?' Kurr could feel himself reaching the end of his patience, never a very long road but particularly short late at night on the bleak day the Council rejected their petition, and their companions were snatched from the street.
'Three questions! I'm not sure I heard all three.' The guard glanced pointedly towards Kurr's purse.
'Very well! I'll treat this as a donation to your wife and family.'
'Think of it rather as a contribution to the coffers of the local innkeeper,' the guard replied pleasantly. 'You can see diat I'm a busy man, so I'll be brief. Your friends have been arrested and imprisoned in a holding cell pending trial on charges of a most serious nature.
According to a reliable witness one of the three assaulted an Instruian guard, rendering him incapable of executing his duty since. As you can no doubt appreciate, the government of this city views such actions with extreme seriousness.'
'How badly is this guard hurt?' Kurr's already wrinkled forehead creased further.
'He sustained head injuries of a most—'
'Yes, I know; of a most serious nature. But tell me: how could a mere boy like Leith overcome a heavily armed guard? If this guard is anything like yourself, I cannot imagine anyone hurting him.'
The flattery had no effect. 'I merely pass on information.'
Kurr sighed deeply, and pulled a small bag from his pocket. 'How much to have him released?'
The guard looked
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