Torgar studied him carefully for a moment, showing no emotion and no indication of what might happen next. He did glance over at his heavy axe, lying to the side.
That was all the excuse the Mirabarran guards needed. The two to Torgar's left dropped their net between them and spurred their horses forward, running past on either side of the dwarf, plucking him from his seat and bouncing him down to the ground in the strong mesh.
Torgar went into a frenzy, tearing at the cords, trying to pull himself free, but the other two guards were right there, drawing forth solid clubs and dropping from their mounts. Torgar thrashed and kicked, even managed to bite one, but he was at an impossible disadvantage.
The soldiers had the dwarf beaten to semi-consciousness quickly, and managed to extricate him from the net soon after, unstrapping and removing his fine plate armor.
"Let the city find slumber before we return," Djaffar explained to them. "I have arranged with the Axe to ensure that no dwarves are on the wall this night."
Shoudra Stargleam was not truly surprised, when she thought about it, but she was surely dismayed that night. The sceptrana stood on her balcony, enjoying the night and brushing her long black hair when she noted a commotion by the city's eastern gate, of which her balcony provided a fine view.
The gates opened wide and some riders entered. Shoudra recognized Djaffar of the Hammers from his boastfully plumed helmet. Though she could make out few details, it wasn't hard for the Sceptrana to guess the identity of the diminutive figure walking behind the riders, stripped down to breeches and a torn shirt and with his hands chained before him, on a lead to the rear horse.
She held quiet but did nothing to conceal herself as the prisoner caravan wound its way right beneath her balcony.
There, shuffling along behind the four, and being prodded by the fifth, came Torgar Hammerstriker, bound and obviously beaten.
They hadn't even let the poor fellow put his boots on.
"Oh, Elastul, what have you done?" Shoudra quietly asked, and there was great trepidation in her voice, for she knew that the marchion might have erred and badly.
The knock on her door sounded like a wizard's thunderbolt, jarring Shoudra from her restless sleep. She leaped out of bed and scrambled reflexively to answer it, only half aware of where she was.
She pulled the door open, then stopped cold, seeing Djaffar standing there leaning on the wall outside her apartment. She noted his eyes, roaming her body head to toe, and became suddenly conscious of the fact that she was wearing very little that warm summer's night, just a silken shift that barely covered her.
Shoudra edged the door closed a bit and moved modestly behind it, peering out through the crack at the leering, grinning Hammer.
"Milady," Djaffar said with a tip of his open-faced helm, glinting in the torchlight.
"What is the hour?" she asked.
"Several before the dawn."
"Then what do you want?" Shoudra asked.
"I am surprised that you retired, milady," Djaffar said innocently. "It was not so long ago that I saw you, quite awake and standing on your balcony."
It all began to make sense to Shoudra then, as she came fully awake and remembered all that she had seen that far from ordinary night.
"I retired soon after."
"With many questions on your pretty mind, no doubt,"
"That is my business, Djaffar." Shoudra made sure that she injected a bit of anger into her tone, wanting to put the too confident man on the defensive. "Is there a reason you disturb my slumber? Is there some emergency concerning the marchion? Because, if there is not. . ."
"We must discuss that which you witnessed from your balcony, milady," Djaffar said coolly, and if he was the slightest bit intimidated by Shoudra's powerful tone he did not show it.
"Who is to say that I witnessed anything at all?"
"Exactly, and you would do well to remember that."
Shoudra's blue eyes opened wide. "My dear Djaffar, are you