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borderlands, there was no need for more. Other wooden buildings were set off
to its sides, one tall enough to be a barn but with a peaked shake roof. A low
stone wall encircled the grounds, and the road curved by a side path up to its
large iron gate. Geza was waiting there.
"You came, " was all he said, and he waved them through. The captain led them
on to the doors of the large stone manor. Once they passed inside its
entryway, there was a change.
Magiere felt jarred, as if in one step she'd crossed a distance to another
place far away, separated from the world right outside. The interior was
suitable for a fief noble or vassal lord, but it wasn't the luxury of their
surroundings that brought this strange sensation. Something else had just
happened, and she peered suspiciously back as Geza shut the doors.
"This is much better, " Wynn commented, rolling her shoulders.
Braziers hung from the walls at the entryway's sides, and there were lanterns
down the hallway ahead. Geza had them kick off their muddy boots in a small
side room before he led them down the hallway. Over the stone floor was a dark
blue carpet with fringed ends and patterned borders of maple leaves.
"It feels different here. " Leesil sighed in relief. "Less oppressive. "
Geza gave them a quick side glance but didn't comment. "This way. "
Magiere noted her companions' reactions. Both Leesil and Wynn looked more
awake. Not fully rested, but alert. The captain ushered them through an open
archway and into a large chamber.
Tapestries of hunting scenes were illuminated by old-fashioned iron braziers
mounted in the stone walls. A walnut table with stiff high-backed chairs ran
end to end across the room. On its other side was a large, arched fireplace.
Piled logs crackled therein, sending a wall of heat across the chamber to its
entrance. There were no servants, and Magiere had seen no other guards on the
grounds besides Geza.
One chair was pulled near the blaze. In it sat a tall man in his early
thirties staring blankly at the flames. He wore simple breeches and soft clean
boots. His shirt, what Magiere could see of it, was dull white and in need of
a wash, and he clung to a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and covering
his arms.
Magiere couldn't imagine anyone feeling a chill in this sweltering room, and
she stripped off her cloak to drop it over a chair.
The man's hair was sandy, like Geza's, but longer and ill-kept. Thick stubble
on his jaw didn't suggest a beard so much as many mornings of forgotten
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grooming. Elena hurried over to him, putting her hands protectively on the
back of his chair.
"They're here, my lord, " she said, but when he didn't respond, she added,
"Stefan... the hunter is here. "
Magiere winced at the wordhunter. She watched Elena's hand settle on the
lord's shoulder and gently slide up to his neck into the back of his hair.
Leesil tapped Magiere's arm and raised his white-blond eyebrows.
Was Elena serving as mistress of this house?
"You asked for us?" Leesil said.
The man blinked and turned his head to look at them. The lost expression in
his eyes faded, but he didn't stand up. Instead, Elena motioned to wooden
benches placed near the fire.
"It's so warm in here, " Wynn said, and the lord sat up straight at her
words.
"You may call me Stefan. " He spoke in Belaskian. "We lost the need for
decorum a while ago, as prisoners do not have titles. "
Stefan's gaze wandered to Magiere's sword and to Leesil's blades as he tossed
his cloak on top of Magiere's before circling to the hearth. Magiere followed,
ushering Wynn and Chap before her. Stefan's eyes rested a moment on Chap, and
his mouth formed the beginning of a smile.
"I see my Shade has found a friend. All the dogs but mine were the first to
go. "
He slipped his right hand out from under the blanket, the other still tucked
away, and Shade walked stiffly over to lick his fingers.
Magiere remained standing, while Leesil straddled a bench, loosening his
shirt collar. Wynn sat down with Chap beside her.
"What about the other dogs?" Leesil asked.
Stefan didn't answer, but his faint smile remained as he studied Wynn more
closely. The hide of Elvish symbols was half-unrolled beside her upon the
bench.
"Who are you?" he asked. "It's difficult to imagine such a bookish girl
involved with these other two. "
"I help as I can, " Wynn answered.
Magiere folded her arms. A few moments in this lord's languid presence was
enough to stir her dislike of the man. He was likely useless and found himself
far too tragic.
"Why don't you get to the point... why you called for us, " she said.
"It's a rather long tale, but if you can help, I will pay anything you ask. "
"Just tell us what plagues these people. "
"My replacement, " he said.
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And he began his story.
Lord Stefan Korbori's wife, Byanka, wasn't beautiful, accomplished, or overly
rich. He was a soldier, son of a second-generation noble who'd died in
military service to Prince Rodek's father. Distinguished by only a minor
title, he possessed both the ambition and the ability to lead, but he
considered himself most fortunate to have won Byanka's hand. She was blood kin [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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