Savankala be appeased with the mangled bones and fat of a butchered cow?
Hesitantly she mounted the raised wooden walk over the red-brown effluvia of the
building.
‘What do the Rankan gods want from this place?’ Dubro asked before setting foot
on the walkway.
‘A substitute for the one already chosen.’
A man emerged from a side door pushing a sloshing barrel which he dumped into
the slow-moving stream. Shapeless red lumps flowed under the walkway between the
two bazaar-folk. Illyra swayed on her feet.
‘Even the gods of Ranke would not be fooled by these.’ Dubro lowered his- head
towards the now-ebbing stream. ‘At least offer them the death of an honest man
ofllsig.’
He held out a hand to steady her as she stepped back on the street, then led the
way past the Serpentine to the governor’s palace. Three men hung limply from the
gallows in the rain, their crimes and names inscribed on placards tied around
their necks. Neither Illyra nor Dubro had mastered the arcane mysteries of
script.
‘Which one is most like the one you need?’ Dubro asked.
‘She should be my size, but blonde.’ Illyra explained while looking at the two
strapping men and one grandfatherly figure hanging in front of them.
Dubro shrugged and approached the stern-faced Hell Hound standing guard at the
foot of the gallows.
‘Father,’ he grunted, pointing at the elderly corpse.
‘It’s the law – to be hung by the neck until sundown. You’ll have to come back
then.’
‘Long walk home. He’s dead now – why wait?’
‘There is law in Sanctuary now, peon, Rankan law. It will be respected without