City of Towers_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [36]
“It’s quite clean, I’ll give it that,” Jode remarked. “I wonder who cleans up all the hippogriff shit.”
A guard shoved him with the butt of a halberd.
They passed a large open square, containing a circle of pillories. A group of criminals were on display, heads and hands pinned in the wooden restraints. A few spectators were throwing refuse at prisoners, but even this behavior seemed rather quiet and reserved compared to what Daine had come to expect.
Daggerwatch was home to the local military as well as the Sharn Watch. Occasionally squads of Brelish soldiers passed by, some marching in strict formation, others off-duty and drifting. Daine was still wearing his Cyran uniform, and he was greeted with sneers and the occasional thrown stone.
They reached their destination. Daggerwatch Garrison was an impressive sight. The stone walls were two feet thick, studded with arrow slits and murder holes, and Daine could see a few archers watching them as they approached. There were deep scars in a few spots along the wall, as if acid or fire had eaten away at the rock—apparently the fortifications had been tested in the past. A massive stone hippogriff stood to either side of the gate, foreclaws raised and ready to strike. Daine wondered if the statues would come to life if there was an attack.
Entering the garrison, they were surrounded by even more guards. Steel manacles replaced their rope bonds—apparently the Sharn Watch was taking no chances.
The sergeant conferred with an administrator in black-and-green robes. The sergeant looked displeased with the news, but Daine couldn’t hear the conversation. Eventually, he returned and spoke quietly with his men. The sergeant nodded to Daine. The next thing he knew, there was a splitting pain in the back of his head and everything went black.
When his senses returned, he was lying on a hard stone floor. He opened his eyes, expecting to see the dim light of a prison cell. Instead he was surprised by bright illumination and a soft carpet beneath his head. His skull was still throbbing from where he’d been sapped, but no permanent damage seemed to have been done. Something seemed wrong, and then he realized—his manacles had been removed.
“Well, Daine. Who’d have thought we’d meet like this? Olladra’s done you no favors, I see.”
The voice was familiar, but in his dazed state Daine had trouble placing it. Rising to his knees, he struggled to take in his surroundings. By the granite floor and walls, he judged he was still inside the Daggerwatch garrison—perhaps an officer’s chamber? A tapestry covered the wall in front of him, depicting the famous battle between the sentinel marshals of House Deneith and the Bandit King of the Whistling Wood. But the voice had come from his right. Daine shook the cobwebs from his head and turned to face the voice.
A man sat behind a beautiful desk of Aerenal densewood. The seal of Sharn dominated the wall behind the desk. Daine’s vision was still slightly blurred, but he could see that the man was wearing the uniform of a captain. He squinted and the stranger’s face came into focus. “Grazen?” he said, shocked. “Grazen d’Deneith?”
The captain laughed and stood up. “For a moment I thought the guards had done you permanent damage. Mourner soldiers aren’t well liked in Daggerwatch.” He walked around the desk and offered Daine a hand, pulling him to his feet. “But it’s Grazen ir’Tala now.”
Daine shook his head, trying to process this information. “What?”
“What can I say?” Grazen ran a hand through his golden-brown hair and smiled. “Love conquers all. I was a sentinel marshal back when we last saw each other, yes? I had an extended tour of duty in Sharn, pursuing a group of Lhazaar