many soldiers searching ship passengers and scanning papers the people produced upon inquiry. This was entirely different than the last time he had visited Trikar. And in a cold dread, he realized that with no documentation or letter of reference he would likely be taken away for questioning.
Off a ways at the checkpoint, Bishop Draven broke his vow of silence and talked with a captain of the guard. The man wore a plumed helm and steel armor that looked as if it were cleaned and shined to perfection that morning. The Bishop turned back and stared at Tael, a serious expression fixing his face into a scowl. This was not going as Tael had planned. Why would the priest betray him now? Were all his kind words and reassurances just a ploy to lure him into the city, where the guards would imprison him?
Tael glanced around, searching for an escape. But with all the guards mobbing the docks and the archers mounted atop buildings lining the Elden River, he doubted there was any chance of escape. He strode up to the Bishop, pretending he had been summoned.
"Yes, Your Excellency?" Tael bowed.
The Bishop gave him an odd look as if he wondered who Tael was, and why he bothered him. After a long, uncomfortable stare, Draven spoke. "Ah, of course. Young master Geldrin. In all my meditations I've seemed to have lost myself." He turned and waved away the captain. "He is with me...a young applicant to the Order of the Calathian Knights. Make way for us."
The guards parted at the Bishop's unflinching steps, and Tael followed, sighing in relief, and was careful to keep his gaze fixed ahead and away from the soldiers' suspicious eyes. After they had passed the squad of soldiers, the priest whispered into Tael's ear.
"You came quite close to being interrogated. I had to do something spontaneous to knock them off balance...the element of surprise. You owe me a substantial debt, lad." Bishop Draven fixed a serious stare on him for a long while as if to allow the weight of his statement to sink in. The priest continued on, navigating through the dense crowd that flowed away from the river. Tael tried his best not to glance back at the soldiers, pushing away any thoughts of imprisonment and torture.
The merchant quarter hung colorful flags along the lantern-lit streets—draped proudly over vendor stalls and larger shops. Tael was surprised to find that the mood about town was jubilant and sensual, and in the early night's serenity, wine flowed freely from painted, earthenware jugs. The last time he had visited, the city guards had lashed a poor boy of around ten to a wooden contraption, and sliced off his fingers for thievery. The process had been so smooth it was as if it happened daily. But the memory of the blood spurting from the boy's sliced stumps and his clenched face screaming in terror and pain haunted Tael to this day.
"What are the flags for?" Tael asked Bishop Draven, trying to force the memory from his mind.
The priest looked up and frowned. "The Wintertide Festival of Lights...a vile, hedonistic party that will hopefully be banished from the city one day. Though I doubt it, for the citizens and slaves love it so. Nights of freedom from the heavy burden of work and oppression. There will be droves marauding the streets over three nights. Today is the preparation. The real licentiousness starts tonight, though every year they seem to start earlier and earlier."
A grin must have formed on Tael's face for the Bishop stopped and lowered his voice. "As a representative of the Calathian Church I would be forsaking my duties in not advising you to stay in your room, lock the door, and spend the next few days in meditation." He coughed and covered his mouth. "But as a man who rarely adheres to all his vows, I would overlook it if you were to go roaming as the dogs do on nights when the bitches are in heat. However I'm quite sure that the leaders of the Order of Calathian Knights would not be so forgiving. Though those of the
Off a ways at the checkpoint, Bishop Draven broke his vow of silence and talked with a captain of the guard. The man wore a plumed helm and steel armor that looked as if it were cleaned and shined to perfection that morning. The Bishop turned back and stared at Tael, a serious expression fixing his face into a scowl. This was not going as Tael had planned. Why would the priest betray him now? Were all his kind words and reassurances just a ploy to lure him into the city, where the guards would imprison him?
Tael glanced around, searching for an escape. But with all the guards mobbing the docks and the archers mounted atop buildings lining the Elden River, he doubted there was any chance of escape. He strode up to the Bishop, pretending he had been summoned.
"Yes, Your Excellency?" Tael bowed.
The Bishop gave him an odd look as if he wondered who Tael was, and why he bothered him. After a long, uncomfortable stare, Draven spoke. "Ah, of course. Young master Geldrin. In all my meditations I've seemed to have lost myself." He turned and waved away the captain. "He is with me...a young applicant to the Order of the Calathian Knights. Make way for us."
The guards parted at the Bishop's unflinching steps, and Tael followed, sighing in relief, and was careful to keep his gaze fixed ahead and away from the soldiers' suspicious eyes. After they had passed the squad of soldiers, the priest whispered into Tael's ear.
"You came quite close to being interrogated. I had to do something spontaneous to knock them off balance...the element of surprise. You owe me a substantial debt, lad." Bishop Draven fixed a serious stare on him for a long while as if to allow the weight of his statement to sink in. The priest continued on, navigating through the dense crowd that flowed away from the river. Tael tried his best not to glance back at the soldiers, pushing away any thoughts of imprisonment and torture.
The merchant quarter hung colorful flags along the lantern-lit streets—draped proudly over vendor stalls and larger shops. Tael was surprised to find that the mood about town was jubilant and sensual, and in the early night's serenity, wine flowed freely from painted, earthenware jugs. The last time he had visited, the city guards had lashed a poor boy of around ten to a wooden contraption, and sliced off his fingers for thievery. The process had been so smooth it was as if it happened daily. But the memory of the blood spurting from the boy's sliced stumps and his clenched face screaming in terror and pain haunted Tael to this day.
"What are the flags for?" Tael asked Bishop Draven, trying to force the memory from his mind.
The priest looked up and frowned. "The Wintertide Festival of Lights...a vile, hedonistic party that will hopefully be banished from the city one day. Though I doubt it, for the citizens and slaves love it so. Nights of freedom from the heavy burden of work and oppression. There will be droves marauding the streets over three nights. Today is the preparation. The real licentiousness starts tonight, though every year they seem to start earlier and earlier."
A grin must have formed on Tael's face for the Bishop stopped and lowered his voice. "As a representative of the Calathian Church I would be forsaking my duties in not advising you to stay in your room, lock the door, and spend the next few days in meditation." He coughed and covered his mouth. "But as a man who rarely adheres to all his vows, I would overlook it if you were to go roaming as the dogs do on nights when the bitches are in heat. However I'm quite sure that the leaders of the Order of Calathian Knights would not be so forgiving. Though those of the
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