First, however, there was the business at hand to see to … and in his current
state his mind could handle only one plan at a time. Raising a fist, he knocked
on Ischade’s door, wondering at the strange foliage in her garden.
The silence surrounding the house was unsettling, and he was about to knock
again if just for the noise when the door opened a crack and a man’s eye
regarded him with a glare.
“Who is it and what do you want so early in the morning?”
“I am Zalbar of the Prince Kadakithis’s personal bodyguard,” he barked, falling
into old habits, “and I have come …” Zalbar stopped suddenly and stole a
glance at the now dark sky. “Early in the morning? Excuse me, but it’s just past
sundown.”
“We’re sleeping late in this house. It’s been very busy lately,” was the growled
response. “What is it you want?”
“I wish to speak with the person known as Ischade.”
“Is this official business, or a personal matter?”
Zalbar considered trying to bluff, but could think of no way to phrase his
inquiries to make them sound official.
“Personal,” he admitted finally.
“Then come back at a decent hour. She’s got better things to do than …”
“Oh let him in, Haught,” came a commanding female voice from somewhere out of
sight. “I’m awake now anyway.”
The guardian of the door favored Zalbar with one last dark glare, then stepped
back to allow him entrance.
The Hell-Hound’s first impression of Ischade’s sitting room was that he had seen
neater battlefields. Then his eye registered the strewn items, and he revised
his opinion. Once he had led an assault against a band of mountaineers busily