Roshad stood speechless, unable to parse the words, and even less able to handle the melancholy smile.

A contingent of horse warriors escorted Roshad back to the city, following at a respectful distance but doing nothing to disguise their presence. At the Gate of Winds, they finally closed and encircled him, not moving until he dismounted and handed back the reins of the horse he'd stolen in his flight. Then they turned and rode back north without saying a word.

Bors stepped between Roshad and the warriors. "This man is no thief, Erzhan. I go with him of my own free will."

Two men knelt at the foot of the dais. One wore thick-plated lamellar armor, the other snug gray wrappings that hid all but his eyes. Similarly dressed pairs made a half-circle around the kneelers, each individual set connected by a short iron chain.

by James L. Sutter

Wednesday, November 23, 2011