Tides of Rythe (The Rythe Trilogy) by Saunders Craig

Author:Saunders, Craig [Saunders, Craig]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-06-19T22:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Fifty

The messenger plucked at his collar nervously. The men were all staring at him, their strange golden eyes seeming to dissect his mind, able to see every guilty little secret he had ever held.

Go to the Great Tree, he had been told. No one had warned him he would be facing seven disgruntled warriors, shaking in his boots while they stared at him with those implacable, fearless eyes.

She came from the back stairs, and he gulped. It was true. She was a lady. Her hair was short, true, like a peasants, but it was neat and seemed to add to her beauty. She wore a soft pink dress, with flowing sleeves. Her hands were crossed, hidden in those voluminous sleeves. She granted him a smile. It was the only one he had had since arriving.

“You have a missive for me?”

One of those frightening warriors followed her down the stairs, and fixed him in his gaze. The messenger gulped before speaking.

“A message, yes, lady. I do not know who it is from.”

“Who gave it to you?”

“A boy, who told me a man had given it to him. I was given a silver coin to deliver it, my lady. I was told to give coin and letter only to you, and that I would, ahem, be taken care of…”

“Were you, indeed? Let’s see this letter.”

She seemed kind enough. She was smiling as one of the golden eyed warriors took the letter from his outstretched hand, the coin from his other, and took them to the lady.

She examined the seal, and broke it open with a quick snap of her wrists.

The messenger waited, looking longingly at the door, while she read slowly.

Her face darkened as she read, but she did not look up until she had finished.

He was sure he was going to die here. He would plunge his dagger into the first man to touch him, he resolved. He might die, but he would take one of them with him. It was troubling, though, that none of the men seemed armed, and they still hadn’t glanced at the dagger hanging from his belt.

“Give him a gold coin, Unthor, and let him on his way.”

To her, it was as though he had ceased to exist. She threw herself down on a cushioned bench. He risked one last glimpse at her as he was ushered through the door out into the sweltering heat with a gold coin resting in his palm.

“Speak of this to no one, man.”

“I wouldn’t, Lord! I swear!” he blurted, looking round for a swift exit, although the warrior held him fast in a firm grip.

“Be sure of it. Now leave, and be careful in future who you take coin from.”

He nodded eagerly, and ran into the market.

Unthor spared a glance around him at the street. All seemed to be in order. He closed the door and barred it, turning to look at the members of his order. Tirielle was slumped, dejected, her head resting on a table.

“Well, what did it say?” he asked.

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