came from behind; this one sent him into unconsciousness.
Chapter 5
Millet paced the floor in the main hall while Dina was seated in a chair by the fire reading calmly. Her honey-blond hair was pushed back, revealing her delicate features. Her lips were twisted into a tiny smile, as she fingered through the pages of a Baltrian comedy. He stopped to look at the two bound, unconscious men in the corner. Their hoods had been thrown back from their black cloaks. The tall one was dark-haired and tan, with long features and narrow-set eyes. The short plump one, had the look of a true aristocrat. Soft pale skin and well-oiled black hair. Millet wondered why they would send someone like this to kill him. Clearly they didn't think the task would be difficult. Barty was kneeling next to them, a short sword in hand; his son on the other side holding a thick herding club.
“Do you know them?” asked Millet.
Barty nodded. “The fat one is called Devon. The other fellow goes by Sherone. Both are from Baltria, I think. At least that’s what they sound like when they talk, and Devon does most of that. He's a bit of a braggart.” He cupped Devon's chin in his hand. “Goes 'round telling tales of his adventures. Not that anyone believes a word of it, but he's free with his gold, so no one seems to mind.”
“Do you recognize them?” Dina asked Millet, without looking up from her book.
“No,” he replied. “But it has been many years since I associated with the nobles of Baltria. These two don't look to be old enough for me to have known them, when Lee and I lived there.”
“What do you intend to do with them?” asked Barty.
Millet's eyes shot to Dina, who gave him a knowing look.
“I cannot ask you or your son to participate in what is about to happen,” said Millet.
Barty rose to his feet. His face flushed. “I see.” He turned to his son. “Go to the Stedding farm.”
Randson glared at his father defiantly, and squared his shoulders.
Barty heaved a sigh. “Not this time, boy.” He placed his hand on Randson's arm.
“I will not leave you,” said Randson. His voice was deep and powerful.
Dina looked up with raised eyebrows, realizing this was the first time she had heard Randson speak.
Barty looked at Millet then back to his son. “If Lord Millet is going to do what I think he's going to do, then I will not have you a part of this.”
“And if you think I am blind to what these people are up to, then you think me stupid,” said Randson. “They have practically enslaved Sharpstone. People are afraid to speak against the faithful out of fear they'll lose all they own. They curse the Gods openly, and mock those who refuse to do the same.” His knuckles turned white wrapped around the club. “And now they come here to do murder. If Lord Millet decides they should die, then it's no less than they deserve. You taught me right from wrong, father. And we are in the right.”
Barty nodded slowly, pride glimmering in his eyes.
“Actually, I need him to do something for me,” said Millet. “And he would need to leave soon.”
“If you think to send me away?” began Randson.
“I do indeed,” said Millet, cutting him off. “I need you to protect Dina.”
“Protect me from what?” asked Dina.
“I intend to start fighting Angrääl here,” explained Millet. “If am to do that, I'll need more than just the four of us.” He turned to Barty. “I assume that there are still people in town that want to stand up to the faithful?”
“A few,” said Barty. “But they're afraid of losing what they have. Practically the whole town is in debt to them. It's all legal, too. Signed by the mayor, then sent to Helenia. If anyone gets out of line, they threaten to go to the king.”
“Smart,” Millet muttered, rubbing his chin. “In the morning, go to those who you think you can still trust. Tell them that all their debts will be paid tomorrow. Then have them join me here.” He looked decisively at Dina. “I need you to go to Helenia, to hire men at arms. By the morning the faithful will likely send for more people. And unless I miss my guess, the next group that arrives in Sharpstone won't be nobles and merchants. We'll need muscle and steel to rid us of this lot.”
“I can do better than