do with him, but now I’ve seen him I don’t think he’s sober enough.’
He looked down as Doranei flailed around for a few moments before managing to sit up. It took another few seconds for him to realise he hadn’t gone blind; he was just staring at the wooden facing of the bar. With an enigmatic grin, the King’s Man reached up and clung onto the bar as he pulled himself approximately upright.
‘Who hit me?’ he murmured.
‘I did,’ Sebe said with a sigh. ‘Gods, Doranei, I’ve never seen you this bad before.’
‘Sebe.’ Doranei blinked a few times, his head wavering forward and back as he squinted at his friend. Eventually he gave a stupid grin. ‘Beer?’
‘Nah, got a sparrow for you to meet.’
‘Sparrow?’
Sebe pointed towards the door. Doranei blinked a couple of times to clear his eyes, then tried to take in the newcomer’s appearance. He looked like a nobleman, but one who’d spent too many recent nights in haystacks. There were fresh scars on his gaunt face; he looked like he was starving.
The man gave a start as Doranei lurched forward and growled, ‘The fuck’re you?’
‘I—My name is Ortof-Greyl,’ he said quickly, as if this information alone would protect him. ‘Harn Ortof-Greyl.’ He looked at Doranei expectantly.
‘Rings a bell.’
Ortof-Greyl waited for Doranei to say more but the King’s Man just swayed slightly and smacked his lips together, hoping Janna would take the hint.
‘I was . . . I am a member of the Knights of the Temples,’ the man went on after an uncomfortable moment of silence.
‘Not sure which, eh? Can see how that’d be a problem.’ Doranei gave the man a friendly pat on the shoulder and struggled back onto his seat. He propped himself up on his elbows. ‘Want a beer?’
Sebe grinned and pulled over a pair of stools, indicating Ortof-Greyl should sit between the two Brothers. Reluctantly, the man did so.
‘Rank?’ Doranei growled.
‘Major,’ the man replied after a slight hesitation.
‘Ordained, then.’ It wasn’t a question, and they all knew the implications. ‘Where’s that brandy then, woman?’
‘It’ll be shoved up your arse if you don’t ask nicer than that, m’lovely,’ Janna replied sweetly.
Doranei dragged his eyes up from the bar, but her bright smile defeated whatever was passing for thought in his head. He turned to Sebe, waved a hand in Janna’s general direction and resumed his earlier position, supporting his head on his empty tankard.
With a sigh, Sebe secured a bottle and three thimble-like cups.
‘Ordained,’ Doranei repeated in a grim voice, staring over the bar. ‘Bugger.’
Beside him the major nodded, looking even paler than he had when he’d first entered the pub. ‘Some days it feels like fire in my veins. Not for much longer though,’ he added, ‘not after what I saw in that refugee camp.’ He knocked back his first cup of brandy before Doranei had even found his own.
‘Your Order won’t like that too much,’ Sebe said.
‘The Order is fractured and lost,’ Ortof-Greyl replied sadly. ‘General Gort is dead, General Chotech is dead. I heard a week ago that General Diolis was murdered in Aroth. My group is destroyed.’
‘Does the Knight-Cardinal know about your plotting against him? He clearing house?’ Sebe asked, leaning forward.
‘I believe so; someone must have informed on us. Whatever the truth, we are in no position to deliver an army of the Devoted to Lord Isak. We’ve failed in our duty.’
‘Join the fuckin’ club,’ Doranei growled. A sudden purpose seemed to take hold of him and he downed two shots of brandy before saying anything further.
A look at Sebe told Ortof-Greyl that he didn’t know what Doranei was referring to either.
‘Took a li’l trip after Scree,’ Doranei said while he waited for Janna to refill his cup. ‘Went to a monast’ry and talked to a bunch o’ priests.’
Sebe gave a gasp as he realised what Doranei was talking about.
He looked down as Doranei flailed around for a few moments before managing to sit up. It took another few seconds for him to realise he hadn’t gone blind; he was just staring at the wooden facing of the bar. With an enigmatic grin, the King’s Man reached up and clung onto the bar as he pulled himself approximately upright.
‘Who hit me?’ he murmured.
‘I did,’ Sebe said with a sigh. ‘Gods, Doranei, I’ve never seen you this bad before.’
‘Sebe.’ Doranei blinked a few times, his head wavering forward and back as he squinted at his friend. Eventually he gave a stupid grin. ‘Beer?’
‘Nah, got a sparrow for you to meet.’
‘Sparrow?’
Sebe pointed towards the door. Doranei blinked a couple of times to clear his eyes, then tried to take in the newcomer’s appearance. He looked like a nobleman, but one who’d spent too many recent nights in haystacks. There were fresh scars on his gaunt face; he looked like he was starving.
The man gave a start as Doranei lurched forward and growled, ‘The fuck’re you?’
‘I—My name is Ortof-Greyl,’ he said quickly, as if this information alone would protect him. ‘Harn Ortof-Greyl.’ He looked at Doranei expectantly.
‘Rings a bell.’
Ortof-Greyl waited for Doranei to say more but the King’s Man just swayed slightly and smacked his lips together, hoping Janna would take the hint.
‘I was . . . I am a member of the Knights of the Temples,’ the man went on after an uncomfortable moment of silence.
‘Not sure which, eh? Can see how that’d be a problem.’ Doranei gave the man a friendly pat on the shoulder and struggled back onto his seat. He propped himself up on his elbows. ‘Want a beer?’
Sebe grinned and pulled over a pair of stools, indicating Ortof-Greyl should sit between the two Brothers. Reluctantly, the man did so.
‘Rank?’ Doranei growled.
‘Major,’ the man replied after a slight hesitation.
‘Ordained, then.’ It wasn’t a question, and they all knew the implications. ‘Where’s that brandy then, woman?’
‘It’ll be shoved up your arse if you don’t ask nicer than that, m’lovely,’ Janna replied sweetly.
Doranei dragged his eyes up from the bar, but her bright smile defeated whatever was passing for thought in his head. He turned to Sebe, waved a hand in Janna’s general direction and resumed his earlier position, supporting his head on his empty tankard.
With a sigh, Sebe secured a bottle and three thimble-like cups.
‘Ordained,’ Doranei repeated in a grim voice, staring over the bar. ‘Bugger.’
Beside him the major nodded, looking even paler than he had when he’d first entered the pub. ‘Some days it feels like fire in my veins. Not for much longer though,’ he added, ‘not after what I saw in that refugee camp.’ He knocked back his first cup of brandy before Doranei had even found his own.
‘Your Order won’t like that too much,’ Sebe said.
‘The Order is fractured and lost,’ Ortof-Greyl replied sadly. ‘General Gort is dead, General Chotech is dead. I heard a week ago that General Diolis was murdered in Aroth. My group is destroyed.’
‘Does the Knight-Cardinal know about your plotting against him? He clearing house?’ Sebe asked, leaning forward.
‘I believe so; someone must have informed on us. Whatever the truth, we are in no position to deliver an army of the Devoted to Lord Isak. We’ve failed in our duty.’
‘Join the fuckin’ club,’ Doranei growled. A sudden purpose seemed to take hold of him and he downed two shots of brandy before saying anything further.
A look at Sebe told Ortof-Greyl that he didn’t know what Doranei was referring to either.
‘Took a li’l trip after Scree,’ Doranei said while he waited for Janna to refill his cup. ‘Went to a monast’ry and talked to a bunch o’ priests.’
Sebe gave a gasp as he realised what Doranei was talking about.
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