Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 162269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
“None,” Seph answered. “I’m just sorry not to hear the news that his body was found with the others.”
“Do you know anything about who is in this Society or where they might be found?” Tor kept at him.
“No, for as I said, I didn’t even know they were still in existence,” Joseph answered.
“Is there anything further at all at this juncture you wish to share?” Tor pressed.
“What would be the point?” Joseph asked in return. “You won’t even give me fresh water. The water they offer in the cells is fetid, at best.”
“You look hearty enough to me,” Tor muttered.
Joseph began glaring again, at Tor.
“We will share with Sir Alfie what you told us,” Apollo told him, gaining his attention. “And perhaps that will mean nothing in the end. Or perhaps it will mean something. Though I wonder if it’s a waste of words, what I’ll tell you is that, just now, for once in this mess, you did the right thing.”
“I can sleep better on my wafer-thin pallet with my holey blanket in the chill of a Dellish winter knowing this,” Joseph sneered.
“I think with that, we will be done,” Tor decided, pushing from the wall.
Apollo rose.
As they made their way to the door, Joseph’s voice came at them, so they turned.
“It was for faith,” he said dejectedly. “I thought I was serving the gods.”
“When your gods tell you to rape and murder and bend people to your will,” Tor began. “It is time to find new gods.”
And with that, he and his friend walked out.
Sir Alfie Henriksson
The King’s Informal Study, Birchlire Castle, Notting Thicket
WODELL
“I’ll dispatch trackers to find Jell immediately and send word to True,” Alfie said on a sigh.
The sigh was of annoyance.
And relief.
This part was done.
The Rising dismantled.
Now it was just war in Airen.
And the Beast.
Weighty circumstances.
But at least one issue was settled.
“With this concluded,” Tor started, “we should be away to Sky Bay.”
Alfie nodded.
“Go knowing you will be missed,” he said with feeling, for they would. Good men he considered friends. “And it is True who will decide how Wodell will thank you for your efforts. But knowing him, I will advise you, he is generous. So be certain to keep a hold empty on your ship, for he will fill it with wool and pewter for your return journey home.”
“Personally, I was just glad for the adventure. Peace and harmony was getting boring,” Tor muttered.
Alfie did not know if he jested, though he did see Apollo stare at his friend as if he were mad, so for both reasons, he did not attempt to stop his laugh.
Both men stood and said their goodbyes, these consisting of two variations of, “We shall see you at supper.”
They then left.
Alfie did not waste time writing the orders, nor the message for the raven to True.
He then called his corporal to deal with these missives with haste.
After the corporal had left the study, he put his hands to the locks on the wheels of his new chair. He unlocked them, shifted it back, relocked it, reached for his sticks and took them up.
He pulled himself out of the chair and moved to another one, this by the fire.
He eased himself down, set his eyes to the blaze and stared at it.
He had no idea how long he sat there before he heard the knock with the immediate sound of the opening of the latch, thus he didn’t bother even to begin to call out.
He heard the door open, close, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bronagh sit in the chair at an angle to the side of his.
She didn’t say anything for long moments.
She broke their silence, stating, “It is getting late, Alfie.”
He had not told her of his suspicions that The Rising had conspired, and succeeded, in raising the creature that forced Silence to Mars, Farah to True, Elena to Cassius as well as all the other events that occurred.
He did not want her frightened.
So he didn’t speak of it then.
He kept his gaze to the fire and said, “Faith.”
“Faith?” she asked softly, clearly having fallen into his mood.
“The prisoner Tor and Apollo have been interrogating said that he did what he did due to faith.”
“Alfie,” she whispered.
He looked to her. “What god would take my legs? What god would take my queen’s life?”
“I do not know.”
“You were right, Bronagh. Life is more than work. And it is tragedy that I learned that when my life was reduced to,” he indicated his chair, “this.”
“Your life is not that small,” she replied.
“Really? When I leave this place, I will need to purchase a new house, for my home will need to be one story, with widened halls so I can negotiate it in my chair. I might be able to manage stairs, but in all frankness, although the ascent holds no concern for me, the idea of attempting a descent scares the shite out of me. I cannot sit astride a horse. I will not stand at an altar and take a woman to wife. I cannot—”