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. "In the name of the Kingpriest," he said
solemnly.
The young woman left. The Revered Son watched after
her, a pleased smile upon his lips. He cast a glance at his
cohorts, who grinned and nodded. Their heads bent together
in continued plotting, the Revered Son and his minions
walked off in the opposite direction.
Neither Nikol nor Michael could speak for long
moments. The shock of what they'd heard and seen took
their breath, made them dizzy and sick, as if they'd been
physically assaulted.
"Oh, Michael," murmured Nikol, "this can't be
happening! I don't believe it. Lord Soth was so valiant, so
brave. No knight would do such terrible things - "
"Lies!" said Michael. His face was pale. He literally
shook with anger and outrage. "That false cleric has twisted
the truth - "
"But what is the truth, Michael?" Nikol cried. "We don't
know!"
"Hush, we're attracting attention," he cautioned, noting
that several men were casting suspicious glances in their
direction. "The truth about that friend of ours," Michael
continued loudly. "We'll find out, I'm certain, now that
we're here in this fair city. A city obviously blessed."
Several men, burly and unwashed and smelling strongly
of dwarf spirits, lurched over to stare at them.
"Strangers, are you?" one said, scowling.
"From Whitsund, Sire," said Michael, bowing.
"At least you're human. Refugees? Thinkin' of movin'
in?" He glowered at them. " 'Cause if you are, you got
another think comin'. We got beggars enough as it is
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