comforted Hod greatly, knowing what was to come. When Banruud fell, Hod did not want Bayr to be anywhere near him.
They saw him coming and rose in distrust. They’d pitched a tent in the meadow where the clans converged during tournament, clearly having expected the king’s reception. They would not be sleeping in the castle, though there were twenty-three empty rooms. Their horses grazed nearby—they were hobbled by the sound of it—and someone had built a fire.
“Banruud has sent his blind henchman to dispatch us,” a warrior crowed, and Hod recognized his voice. He was a loudmouth, a pup that had nipped at Dred’s feet, and time had seemingly not changed him. The others—there were four in all—said nothing, but their hands were on their swords as he approached.
“You are Dred of Dolphys. We met years ago,” Hod greeted, amiable.
“I remember,” Dred answered, cautious. “Your skill was impressive then. I suspect it is more impressive now. I did not expect to see you here.”
Hod extended his hand toward the man, and Dred took it. It was like clutching the branch of a tree—rough and ridged and unforgiving.
“Dystel,” Hod said, greeting the man to Dred’s left. He’d been at Dred’s side through the competition. He was a good archer and had been among the final contestants.
“Archer,” Dystel grunted. “How did you know it was I? I’ve not said a word.”
“I never forget a heart.”
The youngest man scoffed, and Hod turned his face toward him.
“You didn’t like me then either . . . Daniel, was it?” Hod said. “And you weren’t much of a shot. You got out in the first round.”
Daniel gasped, affronted, but the other men laughed.
“I remember now that I liked you, blind archer,” Dred said, a smile in his voice.
“We have not met, Dakin,” Hod said, addressing the silent man at the edge of the group. “But you were there too. You have a heart like a gong.”
“That is uncanny,” Dred marveled.
“It is theater,” Daniel grumbled.
“Your stomach is growling, young Daniel,” Hod said. “Perhaps some supper would make you less hostile?” The men laughed again, as he’d intended, but it didn’t make his assertion any less true. They were all hungry, and he was delaying their dinner.
“Please . . . eat with us. We have enough,” Dred invited.
“I cannot stay. But please . . . eat. I wished only to greet you.”
“And make sure we leave?” Dred added. He was not a fool.
“Aye,” Hod said.
Dred exhaled, as if relieved by Hod’s honesty. Most men were.
“You look like a keeper. Except, mayhaps, for your braid,” Dystel remarked. “I thought years ago that is what you were.”
“I was raised by a keeper. A cave keeper in Leok. I thought one day I would go to the temple and become a supplicant.” Hod shrugged. “But that was not to be.”
“The Dolphys was raised by a keeper too,” Dred said. “By a whole temple.”
“They called him the Temple Boy, archer. Surely you’ve heard the stories,” Dakin said.
“Yes. I’ve heard the stories,” Hod answered. And he had loved the stories.
“You wanted to be a keeper . . . but now you work for the king,” Dred said. “I find that surprising.” His voice was neutral, but he did not like Banruud. Understandable, considering their history. His daughter, Desdemona, had been rejected by the king. Her death was on Banruud’s hands. The death of Saylok was on his hands.
“There aren’t many options for a blind henchman,” Hod replied. The men laughed again.
“No,” Dred answered. “Though I daresay . . . there aren’t many options for any of us. A warrior or a keeper, a farmer or a fisherman. It is a hard life, whether a man is born blind or with a stuttering tongue. We all have our battles.”
“Yes. We do.” Hod hesitated, wanting to warn them, and not certain how to do so. “The mount is not a safe place, Dred of Dolphys.”
The men stiffened.
“Saylok is not a safe place,” Dred shot back.
“No. It isn’t. Not for a warrior or a keeper, a farmer or a fisherman. Not for a blind man or a man with a stuttering tongue,” he repeated, using Dred’s own words. He lifted his face to the breeze, listening. It was time to go. Dagmar was coming, and Hod had no wish to be in his presence or draw attention to himself.
“Your son approaches, Dred of Dolphys. Eat. Rest. But when you are done . . . it would be best to gather your tent and leave the mount.