“Mother of Hate,” Ticastasy whispered, looking at the newcomers. “They’re Kiran Thall.”
Thealos watched them enter, at least twenty strong. The mood in the Foxtale chilled. The leader was a tall, lanky soldier with a two-day growth on his cheeks. He had a hawk-nose and a long, hard face. He carried himself with arrogance, a self-possession making him seem younger. Swaggering in, he gave Flent a warning look to back off and marched over to the counter where the tavern keeper scowled.
“What can I do for you, Secrist? You don’t stop by the wharves very often.”
“My brother sent for me,” the leader of the Kiran Thall said. “Said to meet him here in a few days. You seen him this side of the Ravenstone? Been to port yet?” He grabbed another patron’s mug of Spider Ale and gulped it down. He slammed the cup and gave the tavern keeper a menacing look.
“Let’s go,” Thealos murmured. They were causing enough of a distraction to escape.
She shook her head, her eyes never leaving the leader. “They would see us. You don’t want them to notice you. Not a Shae this far from Avisahn. Trust me.”
“Who are they?”
“You’ve never heard of the Kiran Thall?”
Thealos shrugged, angry at the delay. “They’re a bane in the western half of the valley. They don’t frequently stop in my kingdom. They look like Inlanders.”
She nodded. “They’re the cavalry of the Bandit Rebellion. Part of the Shoreland Regiment. Arrogant mules, all of them. That one is a colonel. Secrist Phollen.” She looked at him with contempt. “Hate,” she muttered again softly, watching the tavernkeeper, trying to get his eyes.
“Why doesn’t the garrison arrest them?” Thealos demanded in a whisper. “Doesn’t this city hold to Dos-Aralon?”
“You’re in the Shoreland now. Sol is a port city. If the governor of Sol stopped trading with …”
“Secrist, over there!” one of the Kiran Thall called derisively. Thealos froze, clenching the girl’s hand.
But they were looking at the knight from Owen Draw who had slowly come to his feet. The look the knight gave them was so fierce that Thealos knew there would be violence. The leader of the Kiran Thall pushed away from the counter and started forward. An amused smirk crossed his bristled mouth. Several followed him, while others kept the door secure. The knight stood motionless, staring coldly at the soldiers approaching him. He unfolded his arms, setting a clove-pipe on his plate.
“You’re a long, long ride from Owen Draw, you skulking rook,” Secrist sneered.
“Are you so anxious to see a gallows, coward?” The knight looked at the twenty soldiers, sizing them up.
A mirthless chuckle came as the reply. Secrist glanced up at the rafters. “Well, this looks like it could do for one well enough in a pinch. Hang you like I did those fool knights who tried to route us in Iniva. They call it Blackwater now.”
“We’ve all heard of it, boy. I arrest you for high treason in the king’s name.” He unsheathed a two-handed blade from a battered scabbard. “I arrest you for rebellion against your true king.”
“Trobbe, fetch me a rope from my saddle bags,” Secrist ordered, nonplussed by the knight’s words. “I feel like hanging another knight.”
“Secrist,” the tavern keeper warned, “I…I can have some casks of ale ready for you right quick. Fetch ‘em, Flent. Quickly, lad, fetch ‘em! Won’t cost you a thing. Come on, there’s plenty. Don’t kill him. Not here. This will ruin me…”
The knight stood unflinching. “You fetch that rope, little boy.” He shook his head slowly. “But I just may use it on you.”
Thealos’ mouth went dry. He stared at the leader of the Kiran Thall, feeling nothing but distain for the man. He glanced around the room, counting them. The Kiran Thall had crossbows and light weapons. But there were at least twenty, and he didn’t know how many more outside. The other patrons of the tavern bowed their heads down, not daring to look up. They outnumbered the Bandit horsemen, but only in numbers, not courage.
“I can’t believe this,” Ticastasy muttered. She let go of his hand. “I’m calling the garrison here.”
“No,” Thealos warned, but it was too late.
“You’re not going to hang anyone tonight, Secrist Phollen, so quit blustering,” the serving girl said, stepping away from Thealos’s table. “You gamble with Fate every time you come to Sol. This is my tavern as much as it is Roye’s. We’ve earned this place. But if you hang a Knight of the Blade, you’re a bigger fool than I ever thought. And I think you’re a banned big one.”
Secrist turned and gave her an deprecating glare. His eyes went up her body, lingering at the soft curves. He wiped his mouth on a gloved hand and clucked his tongue. She stared at him defiantly, hands on her hips.
“Sporting with Shaden now, ‘Stasy?” he jibed, giving a half-glance at Thealos. “I’m sure Tsyrke would love to hear that.”