robes, and both men and women were wearing full-length fabrics belted at the waist. Some men wore armour chosen for its fashionable appearance rather than its usefulness. Some breastplates were etched with family crests or coats of arms and a few longswords were on display – family heirlooms and designer steel.
Utha let his gaze wander to the women in the street. Some were nobles, wearing thin veils to hide their features from onlookers; others were paid women or servants. Scantily clad servants also appeared to be in fashion, as many merchants and noblemen were accompanied by several such. Utha winked at one as he passed and caused her to show an expression somewhere between fear and arousal as her master ushered her quickly away. She was wearing a revealing leather waistcoat and the cleric heartily approved of her more feminine qualities.
‘Brother, now is not the time to be indulging your libido,’ Torian said as he came to walk next to Utha.
‘You’re just jealous because you had yours removed when you took the Purple,’ he replied, turning to watch the woman leave.
‘You’re strange, brother; with one breath you cause fear, with the other you’re ruled by your cock.’
‘Hopefully they didn’t take that when you became a cleric,’ Utha said with a wicked smile, ‘though it would certainly explain your sour disposition.’ He looked deliberately down at Torian’s crotch. ‘Did they put it in a jar and let you keep it?’
Torian replied calmly, ‘I will rise above your taunts, brother… my love for the One is enough sustenance for me.’ His words were sincere.
‘Maybe I just have too much love and women allow me not to burst,’ Utha replied. ‘In that case, it would be reasonable to thank them for keeping me alive to do the One’s good work.’
Torian shook his head and walked silently towards the end of the King’s Highway. Utha thought it his duty to puncture the smug piety of the Purple clerics, and Torian was an enjoyable target. He took everything so very seriously and had been taught to abstain from pleasure from a young age. The Black clerics were supposed to take all they could from life, and this traditionally included alcohol and sex. If death was to be feared and respected, then life was to be enjoyed and celebrated. Utha had never been shy about his beliefs, and he knew they challenged Torian’s faith – how could two clerics who followed the same god have such drastically different views of the world? What Torian didn’t yet understand was that the One required all of his aspects in order to be whole.
They approached the outer wall of the city and Utha stopped at the side of the street. Ro Tiris was on the northern coast of Tor Funweir, with only a wide sea channel and the duchy of Canarn between the men of Ro and the Freelands of Ranen. Above the high stone walls Utha could see tall ships at anchor in the bay, and the smell of salt water was pronounced. Two turrets flanked the huge raised portcullis where the King’s Highway passed out of Ro Tiris.
Utha and Torian stood off to the side of the open gate and the watchmen, with Randall in tow, stood in a rough semicircle around them. Sergeant Clement still looked uneasy at being ordered around by a cleric, but Utha sensed no hint of rebellion from the old watchman.
‘Where are we going?’ Utha asked Torian.
‘The Kasbah of Haq. It’s a Karesian marketplace down there.’ He gestured to a road that snaked round the outside of the city wall. ‘It’s a strange-smelling place from what I hear, all manner of Karesian drugs and poisons filling the air.’
‘Hm, I would have thought the watch would have dealt with the drugs by now.’ Utha directed a questioning expression at Sergeant Clement, who looked surprised before stuttering out a reply. ‘My lord… the watch have no real power outside the walls… we, er, tend to keep our distance from the Karesian mobsters… those bastards will cut your nose off if you give
Learning to Kill: Stories