“You understand the duties that I now require of you?” D’Arden asked him.
He nodded sharply. “Yes, sir.”
“Good, then,” D’Arden said. “I leave the city in your hands… Captain Mayer.”
**
The sun was setting over the western horizon when D’Arden retrieved Elisa from the stables. His great destrier, Tyral, seemed unusually happy to have her aboard, and had nipped at D’Arden’s hand when he tried to take his own saddle back. With amusement, D’Arden had purchased a second horse for him to ride on their way back, since Tyral was so taken with the girl.
Elisa had changed into some of his spare clothing – a breach of protocol, but a necessity, since they had no time for fitting and her fine white tunic was crusted so heavily with blood that it was a total loss. As they mounted their steeds and began to ride towards the gate, D’Arden cast a glance backwards at the inn that stood in the trade square.
In the doorway stood the strange innkeeper, who gave a half-wave and a crooked smile in his direction.
