towards the bare slab that served as the boy's cot. "You have done well."
Leraates left the youth as he lay down on his stone bed. Lakhyri had not said anything against Leraates' plan of action, and he assumed that he had the high priest's consent to search for the king in Salphoria. There was still much to organise – legions, bribed Salphor chieftains, Brothers – but he was spurred on by the thought that he was nearing his goal. In a matter of days, perhaps two dozen at most, he was sure he would have Ullsaard in his grasp.
VII
The rain was pouring down, the clouds blocking all light of moon and stars. The lights of Marradan could be seen a few miles to coldwards; thousands of torches on the city wall and lanterns lighting the streets were enough to create a glow on the horizon.
In a dell a little more than hundred paces from the main hotwards road another much smaller light glowed in the darkness.
The shuttered lantern, almost closed tight against wind and rain, only shed enough light to illuminate a circle no wider than a man's outstretched arms. In that dim glow, three men huddled behind a handcart turned on its side, their cloaks hitched over their heads on spears to create a rough awning. The three men sat on rectangular shields, arms crossed over bronze breastplates to keep warm. All three were sodden wet, their tunics sticking in folds to their flesh, leather kilts glistening in the lamplight.
"Should've grabbed our bedrolls," said Loordin, his teeth chattering.
"Wasn't time," replied Muuril.
"What's keeping Gebriun and Faasil?" asked Gelthius. Not long ago he had heard the distant ring of bells in the city. "It's past Gravewatch by now."
"We should go," suggested Loordin. "If they ain't here yet, they've been caught. Simple as that. They could be leading them blackheads right here."
"Give them a few more hours," said Muuril. "They might be hiding out until the gates open again at Dawnwatch."
"Right enough," said Gelthius. "We'll start off second hour of Dawn, before the road gets too busy. Should put a few miles between us and the city."
"I'm off for a shit," said Loordin.
"In this?" said Muuril.
"Don't figure you want me dumping it in your lap, big man," replied the legionnaire. "I went to the place that puts all them Maasrite spices in the food last night and it ain't biding its time no longer."
Loordin disappeared into the darkness, already hitching up his kilt around his waist before he was out of sight.
"Can you sing?" asked Muuril.
"Not really," said Gelthius. "Why?"
The sounds of Loordin's evacuation erupted through the rain, causing both men to grimace. It was followed by a string of swear words and curses.
"Too late," said Muuril. "I've already got an image now."
"What do you reckon the king'll do next?" Gelthius asked, to take his mind away from the sounds of bowel movements and mild distress emanating out of the darkness.
"Ullsaard? Not sure. Perhaps you can help me figure this out. We go marching off to conquer Salphoria, and while we're away that little fuck of a son gets big ideas and decides to be king for himself, right?"
"So far, I think."
"We ain't in Carantathi more than two days before Ullsaard decides it's time to go home for a little reunion."
"Yeah, that seems to be what happened."
"So do you think the king got wind of what Urikh was up to?"
"Maybe heard a rumour or had a feeling," said Gelthius. "He couldn't have been certain, otherwise he would have come back with the whole army. That would put Urikh in his place, right enough."
"Well, he couldn't abandon Carantathi, could he? Pull out the legions and the Salphors would be back to their old tricks in no time at all."
"Bit of a shame, really. Being king is more of a pain in the arse than you think, isn't it?"
"It is when you've got a bitch's cunt like Urikh for a son. Hold up, the rain's dropping
Leraates left the youth as he lay down on his stone bed. Lakhyri had not said anything against Leraates' plan of action, and he assumed that he had the high priest's consent to search for the king in Salphoria. There was still much to organise – legions, bribed Salphor chieftains, Brothers – but he was spurred on by the thought that he was nearing his goal. In a matter of days, perhaps two dozen at most, he was sure he would have Ullsaard in his grasp.
VII
The rain was pouring down, the clouds blocking all light of moon and stars. The lights of Marradan could be seen a few miles to coldwards; thousands of torches on the city wall and lanterns lighting the streets were enough to create a glow on the horizon.
In a dell a little more than hundred paces from the main hotwards road another much smaller light glowed in the darkness.
The shuttered lantern, almost closed tight against wind and rain, only shed enough light to illuminate a circle no wider than a man's outstretched arms. In that dim glow, three men huddled behind a handcart turned on its side, their cloaks hitched over their heads on spears to create a rough awning. The three men sat on rectangular shields, arms crossed over bronze breastplates to keep warm. All three were sodden wet, their tunics sticking in folds to their flesh, leather kilts glistening in the lamplight.
"Should've grabbed our bedrolls," said Loordin, his teeth chattering.
"Wasn't time," replied Muuril.
"What's keeping Gebriun and Faasil?" asked Gelthius. Not long ago he had heard the distant ring of bells in the city. "It's past Gravewatch by now."
"We should go," suggested Loordin. "If they ain't here yet, they've been caught. Simple as that. They could be leading them blackheads right here."
"Give them a few more hours," said Muuril. "They might be hiding out until the gates open again at Dawnwatch."
"Right enough," said Gelthius. "We'll start off second hour of Dawn, before the road gets too busy. Should put a few miles between us and the city."
"I'm off for a shit," said Loordin.
"In this?" said Muuril.
"Don't figure you want me dumping it in your lap, big man," replied the legionnaire. "I went to the place that puts all them Maasrite spices in the food last night and it ain't biding its time no longer."
Loordin disappeared into the darkness, already hitching up his kilt around his waist before he was out of sight.
"Can you sing?" asked Muuril.
"Not really," said Gelthius. "Why?"
The sounds of Loordin's evacuation erupted through the rain, causing both men to grimace. It was followed by a string of swear words and curses.
"Too late," said Muuril. "I've already got an image now."
"What do you reckon the king'll do next?" Gelthius asked, to take his mind away from the sounds of bowel movements and mild distress emanating out of the darkness.
"Ullsaard? Not sure. Perhaps you can help me figure this out. We go marching off to conquer Salphoria, and while we're away that little fuck of a son gets big ideas and decides to be king for himself, right?"
"So far, I think."
"We ain't in Carantathi more than two days before Ullsaard decides it's time to go home for a little reunion."
"Yeah, that seems to be what happened."
"So do you think the king got wind of what Urikh was up to?"
"Maybe heard a rumour or had a feeling," said Gelthius. "He couldn't have been certain, otherwise he would have come back with the whole army. That would put Urikh in his place, right enough."
"Well, he couldn't abandon Carantathi, could he? Pull out the legions and the Salphors would be back to their old tricks in no time at all."
"Bit of a shame, really. Being king is more of a pain in the arse than you think, isn't it?"
"It is when you've got a bitch's cunt like Urikh for a son. Hold up, the rain's dropping
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