“Smart man. Come, I will make sure your accommodations are comfortable. We’ll eat a warm meal, drink hearty ale, and converse. In the morning, we’ll convene in the conference hall to talk more. Hopefully the weather Gods will smile on you, and it will blow over by the morning. I would hate for His Majesty to wait too long.”
“Here, here.”
“It’s settled then. Come, I’ll get someone to show you to your rooms. You can freshen up and someone will get you when dinner is ready. I would recommend staying put until called for. You can get lost easily in these corridors. I’d hate to lose the king’s own messenger.”
Brogan thought about getting lost inside the closed in walls and shuddered. “The thought scares me more than you could ever realize, Dagon. I am a seaman, used to open air and wide spaces. I’ll leave the crawling around inside the tunnels to you and your clansmen.”
He laughed openly and heartily. He stood from his chair on the dais and slapped Brogan hard on the back. “I think I like you, Brogan. I think we shall get along nicely.”
Brogan and Bort both smiled at him and followed him from the room.
***
The storm hit the mountain with a fury Brogan had never seen. The dark clouds shrouded the mountain with blackness so thick, you could not see down into the valley, and the winds howled loudly, echoing inside the tunnels and corridors of the city. He could hear the rain when he was close to the entrance, but in the deep reaches of the mountain, all was quiet. He hoped for a storm like he was used to at sea, all noise and brutality for awhile, then waning soon after; like a lion to a kitten. Dagon was not so certain. He said that the storms were getting worse, strange storms of unusual power and length, caused, he believed, by whatever strange power Fallon had obtained in the last few years. A power that seemed to be affecting everyone. No one was unscathed from his vengeance.
Brogan and Bort, and the men in their party, were sitting around a large comfortable table, a warm fire blazing in the seven foot hearth. They had filled themselves on hearty stew and were working on tankards of sweet ale as they talked.Dagon was a lively fellow with an agreeable sense of humor, and Brogan found himself liking him more as the evening went on. As dinner progressed they found themselves talking about the past and how each had come to know the king. Dagon was sprawled out on one chair, his feet propped up on another, leaning back and making smoke circles in the air with his pipe.
Brogan was sitting in the chair across from him and was also smoking. He spoke first. “I’ve known Dain since he was a young man, no more than thirteen. I was in the king’s guard, had been for many a year. On my day off, I was in town, hanging out with other soldiers from around the kingdom, drinking and telling war stories like soldiers do. A seedy looking character came into the tavern and started causing trouble for some of the men. He was saying foul things and getting some of the younger men riled. He and another hot-head got into a brawl. There was stuff flying everywhere, chairs and mugs, and the serving girls were running off screaming; it was quite the mess. I stepped into the middle of it before it got someone killed.”
“What happened?”
“Someone got killed. The stranger pulled the dagger from my belt and stabbed the solider in the gut, flaying him open right there in the middle of the tavern. Before I could grab the guy, he was gone, just like a magician; poof. I sent a couple of my men after the guy while I tended to the dying one. There was nothing could be done. I called for the surgeon, but before he could get across town, the man was gone. When the constable came in, he saw me standing over the dead man, dagger on the floor beside him. He accused me of killing him. Now there were plenty of witnesses in the place that night, but all of a sudden they all went mute. It was my dagger, so naturally I had been the one to kill him. Only one guy in the tavern said what he saw, a lie of course, and it did not bode well for ole Brogan. “It all happened so fast,” he said. “There was a struggle,” he said. “My dagger ended up in his gut,” he said.”
“What about your men?”
“They came back two hours later. They ran up one side of the city to the other. No sign of the guy; disappeared; poof. No suspect to be found. My dagger, my crime. I was to be beheaded in the city square three nights hence, no trial. Colwyn wanted to send a message that crime would not be tolerated, especially the crime of murder. The fact that it was a decorated and respected officer in his ranks didn’t change his mind. What was done, was done.”
“King Colwyn was a bit self righteous for my taste. A good king, fair and just, but at times a bit too naïve when it came to what was best for the kingdom. I think Dain is on his way to being great, however.”