‘Yes,’ said Kollarin. He moved to the hearth and reached out to touch the leather-bound book on the small table. Idly the man in green flipped open the cover. ‘Ah, a Kushir grimoire. A long time since I have seen such a work. The scripting is very fine – resin dusted with gold and then varnished. Exquisite!’
‘You read Kushir?’ asked Asmidir, holding his expression to one of mild interest, while his heart beat against his ribs like a drum of war.
‘I read all known languages,’ said Kollarin. ‘I do not wish it to sound like a boast, since it is a Talent I have possessed all my life, and not the result of dedicated study.’
The servant, Ari, returned with a flagon of wine and two goblets. Masrick accepted his without a word of thanks. Kollarin smiled at Ari and gave a short bow of the head. ‘Not drinking with us, Asmidir?’ Masrick asked.
‘No.’ Turning back to Kollarin, he asked, ‘What will you do now that your hunt has been successful?”
‘Successful?’ queried Kollarin.
‘Two prisoners. I understood you were hunting for a man and a woman.’
‘We haven’t caught the woman yet,’ said Masrick, cutting in, ‘but we will. We have the forester, Fell. The other prisoner is a renegade. He struck me! Loosened several teeth. By God, he’ll pay for it when I get him back to Citadel.’
‘It does look sore,’ agreed Asmidir. ‘Ari, fetch some of the special camomile ointment for this gentleman.’ As the servant departed Asmidir seated himself before the fire, trying not to look at Kollarin as the man slowly turned the pages of the grimoire. ‘So,’ he said to Masrick, ‘why does the Baron request my presence so urgently?’
‘That’s for him to tell you,’ muttered Masrick. ‘Now where can I lodge these prisoners? Do you have no rooms with locks?’
‘Sadly, no. I suggest you bring them in here. Then at least you can watch them until you leave.’
‘Until we leave,’ corrected Masrick.
Asmidir rose and approached the officer. The black man was at least a foot taller. ‘At the moment, my dear Masrick, I am putting aside your bad manners on the grounds that the blow to your face, and the subsequent pain, has made you forget your breeding. Understand, however, that my patience is not limitless. Try to remember that you are an insignificant second cousin to the Baron, whereas I am a friend to the King. Now get out and fetch your prisoners. I wish to speak with the Finder.’
Masrick’s mouth dropped open, and his eyes narrowed. Asmidir read the fury there. The black man leaned in close. ‘Think carefully before you react, moron. It is considered deeply unlucky to be struck twice in the face on the same day.’ Masrick swallowed hard and backed away. Asmidir swung away from him and crossed the room to where Kollarin waited. For a moment only Masrick hesitated, then he marched from the hall.
‘You did not need the cloak spell,’ said Kollarin softly. ‘I refused to hunt the woman.’
‘Very wise,’ Asmidir told him, keeping his voice low. ‘When you return to Citadel town I will see that one hundred silver pieces are delivered to you.’
‘Very kind.’ Kollarin’s green eyes held Asmidir’s gaze. ‘But I shall not be returning to Citadel.’
‘Neither shall I,’ said Asmidir, with a wry smile.
Masrick returned to the hall and two soldiers led in the prisoners, ordering them to sit by the far wall. The officer marched up to Asmidir. ‘I fear you were right, Lord Asmidir,’ said Masrick. ‘The
events of the day shortened my temper. I ask your forgiveness for my … abrupt manner.’ The anger was still present in his eyes, but Asmidir merely smiled.
‘We will say no more about it, my dear Masrick. Are your men being fed?’
‘Yes. Thank you. How soon will you be ready to leave?’
Asmidir did not answer, but strolled across the hall and stood before the prisoners. ‘I know you,’ he said, addressing Obrin. ‘You were in the fist-fighting tourney last winter. You lost in the final -stumbled and went down with an overhand right.’
‘You have a good memory for faces,’ Obrin told him. ‘Now if I’d managed to hit the Cleatian with the same power that I used on goat-face there, I would have won.’