The Shadowed Princes

The number of banners flying from the tall pole in the middle of the commons had grown. As each thane arrived for the witan, another banner was added to the others. The seventeen thanes of Red Wolf had gathered in the capital of Wolffgard to confirm or deny the last wishes of their late chieftain, Claw Redhand.

Thane Clennan Doherty was a hard mon. The cut of his dark clothing concealed the withered left leg and arm; while his glove made a black sheathed claw of that hand. He drew rein on the common and stared first at the long scaffolds. The icy weather had preserved the bodies of scores upon scores of myn hanging from them like grotesque fruit.

"What happened here?" He demanded and then his eyes fell upon a body, set higher and apart from the rest: Belgair. "They killed my son."

A stout horsemon rode up to him, round as an apple and ruddy cheeked. "It's been a while, Clennan."

"Vertram," Clennan acknowledged the Thane of Chandler's Rock. Vertram Devlin was the richest thane in Red Wolf. Three major trade routes met at Chandler's Rock and, as a result, his wealth rivaled that of the Redhand family. He was also a drunken skirt chaser whose present official mistress was Clennan's eighteen-year-old granddaughter Jocelyn.

"They've split us up, Clennan. Some of us are staying at the Lawgiver House, others at the Manor, and a privileged few at the bastard's mansion."

"Which way does the wind blow for you, Vertram?"

"Same as yours. Hang the bastard."

Clennan raked the thumb of his dessicated claw across his chin. "Who killed my son?"

"Todd Sinclair. The legend has returned."

"Legends can die, Vertram." His tone made that statement a promise.

Two horsemyn reined in behind Clennan, watchful guardians wearing Battle-clan fingerbones braided into their long pale hair. Slender, straw-haired Faerwald Davies and his brawny towheaded companion, Lairgan Yates, enforced Clennan's wishes. They were duelists by trade, bodyguards by circumstance, and – if the rumors that Vertram had heard were true – they dabbled in assassination at Clennan's orders. The soulless gaze of a true predator jarred with the easy set of their mouths, as if they found amusement in everything they saw and did. Faerwald's thin lips acknowledged Vertram in a manner that sent a shiver up the thane's spine.

Each of them carried a plain-looking saber with a solid half basket hilt at their hips and a main gauche on the opposite side. There was nothing fancy about them; everything was serviceable and practical as befitted myn who knew their business.

Clennan's eyes drifted again to his son's dangling body. No signs of grief showed on the Thane's face, nor in his words. His voice remained hard and steady. "Tell me how my son died."

"I don't know much of it. Todd put a blade in his belly. The one you want to speak with is Lennox Strahan. However, he's gone into hiding."

"Can you arrange a meeting?"

Vertram nodded his answer, unable to think of what more to say.

GODWAR CENTRAL

The Shadowed Princes