there ever returns. Journey there and resolve the mystery, that we might know what has become of that place."
"Your Majesty." Next to Cimar, Davrin of course gave nothing away, but it wasn't hard to guess that he was furious with the quests: Grayne's simple and close to home, where he could easily cheat and would have all the time in the world for the quest itself while sleeping in his own bed almost every night.
Cimar, meanwhile, would spend most of his quest on arduous travel during the darkest, coldest, most dangerous part of the year. When he reached his destination, he was likely to find one of two things: the castle had been overtaken by some manner of enemy, or it had been wiped out by sickness. Either one posed a great risk to a man expected to face such a challenge with only his squire at his side.
The imbalance was so offensive it was almost laughable. He remained silent, though, as did Davrin, who knew better than most the value and wisdom in silence.
"The quests begin at sunrise. You're dismissed." King Rorlen snapped his fingers, and his attendants and bodyguards enfolded him and follow him from the hall.
Cimar rose, and Davrin beside him. They shared a look, and as one departed the hall in the opposite direction, bound for Davrin's chambers. The door slammed shut behind them, and Davrin's notorious calm fač˝ade cracked like a dropped plate. "I have really and truly had it with him."
"At least he's fairly predictable in his vindictiveness," Cimar replied. "I admit neither I nor Leonine thought of Castle Bone, but we should have. It's nothing I haven't deal with before, be it brigands or plague."
Davrin's ire immediately turned into concern. "Brigands concern me far less than plague. Only the Goddess herself can spare a man from that horrid fate. I hope I have not sought justice for Ballior only to lose you too."
"It is your right to call a challenge and my right to answer as champion. Recriminations waste energy and time. Leave off them. You're a diplomat of no small renown; you know all this."
Smiling faintly, Davrin replied, "That is true. I even anticipated His Majesty would act the vindictive child over the matter, but he is surprising even me with how apathetic and mean he's been."
"It's a wonder to me a man like that produced someone as fine and honorable as Princess Korena," Cimar said. "She is on our side, I feel, and that counts for much."
Davrin nodded, brow furrowing briefly as his thoughts took him. Cimar left him to them, taking a seat at the table where they'd had breakfast only hours ago, and focused on his own thoughts.
Such as the best way to reach Castle Bone. It was well into the mountains, high enough up that those unaccustomed to the height struggled to breath at first. Once upon a time it had been a key defense post, but treaties formed nearly two generations ago now had reduced it to little more than a throughway when easier paths were rendered unusable by the mercurial mountains.
Theoretically they could reach it by horse, but that relied heavily on the road and the weather being kind to them, and that the problem was easily resolved or at least deduced in a matter of days, giving them plenty of time to return. He was going to have little choice but to use his shifted form if they wanted any real chance of completing the quest.
Which King Rorlen probably knew. Or at least hoped. Either they went by horse and risked failing, or he used his shifted form and with it thus revealed, bared himself to whatever conniving King Rorlen and his repugnant lackies came up with to exploit it.
Cimar wasn't nearly as stupid as they clearly thought, however.
"I'm glad you seem far less troubled by all of this than me," Davrin said, joining him at the table. "Ballior could have no better champion, truly."
"The honor is mine to stand for a fallen friend. Do not worry about His Majesty's machinations. He vastly underestimates how much conniving is involved in the archives. Trust me, monarchs and nobles have nothing on scribes, monks, and nuns when they are bickering over who gets what manuscripts and who is the best at making new copies of the tomes in their keeping." He smiled faintly. "The last time I was at the Golden Apple, a fist fight broke out, and nobody throws a punch like a vexed abbess."
To his