There was a scream and a crash from the inside. Dubro dropped his hammer and
bumped into Walegrin at the doorway. A third Stepson yanked the rope loose and
attempted, unsuccessfully, to bully his way past both Dubro and Walegrin. The
smith’s hands closed on the Stepson’s shoulder. The other pair reached for their
weapons, but Thrusher already had his drawn. Everyone froze in place.
Illyra appeared in the doorway. “Just let them go, Dubro,” she asked wearily.
“The truth hurts him more than you can.” She noticed Walegrin, sighed and
retreated back into the darkness.
“Lying S’danzo bitch!” the third Stepson shouted after her.
Dubro changed his grip and shook the small man. “Get out of here before I change
my mind,” he said in a low voice.
“You haven’t finished with the shield yet,” the young one complained, but his
companions hushed him, grabbed the shield and hurried into the rain.
Dubro turned his attention to Walegrin. “One might expect you to be here when
something like this happens.”
“You shouldn’t let her see men like that.”
“He wouldn’t,” Illyra explained from the doorway. “But that’s the only kind that
comes anymore-for mongering and scrying. The Stepsons scare anything else away.”
“What about the women you used to see? The lovers and the merchants?” Walegrin’s
tone was harsh. “Or did the S’danzo not give them back?”
“No, Migurneal was not untrue. It’s the same everywhere. No woman would venture
this close Downwind anymore-and not many merchants either. They don’t need me to
tell them their luck if they run afoul of the Sacred Band.”