them reason to.’
‘Relax, sergeant, Brother Utha is merely expressing his displeasure at the presence of foreign influence,’ Torian said calmly, before turning back to Utha. ‘Your need for theatrics aside, the Kasbah has a few establishments that provide feminine company for those who are inclined—’
‘Do you mean brothels?’ Utha interrupted.
‘I believe that is the common term, yes. Either way, the forger Glenwood spends most evenings in one of these establishments. It is likely that he will just be waking up.’
‘Let’s go and be a nice morning surprise for him, then,’ Utha replied, with his customary wicked smile.
They walked in loose formation out of the gates, sparing a respectful salute for the king’s guard who patrolled the outer walls. The guardsmen carried longswords, wore ornate golden armour and were answerable only to the king. They remained within the walls of Ro Tiris, or at the king’s side, and were charged with defending the city and the crown. Utha respected them far more than the watchmen, because they were true fighting men pledged to the crown from birth.
The guardsmen stopped anyone they did not recognize, taking a modest toll from those who wished to pass through the gates. Most common men were simply turned back along the highway and not permitted to leave the city. Utha knew that this was merely a ceremonial consideration and that if men truly wished to leave there were many secret ways and less secure gates they could use.
Beyond the walls, the outer city stretched along the coast in narrow streets framing the King’s Highway. This was where Karesian rainbow merchants sold their illicit wares and low-born men of Ro came to forget about their lives. The smell of spices and other less savoury concoctions was thick in the air as soon as Utha stepped off the highway. He turned up his nose at the sickly sweet smell and held a hand over his face.
The buildings here were much lower and more closely packed than in the city and the colours were brighter. Utha thought it more vulgar and garish. Karesian and Ro men shouted the prices of their wares to all who passed; spices, foods, weapons and clothing were all on display. Utha could also see exotic animals from the far south, caged and poorly treated, waiting for a buyer rich enough to want a strange pet or hunting animal. Desert spiders the size of dogs sat next to strange many-headed birds and muzzled firedrakes.
Utha puffed out his chest and let all nearby see that a Black cleric was passing. Torian, the taller of the two men, swept his purple cloak back and proudly displayed his full plate armour. The watchmen, who stood behind them, looked nervous and their lack of authority outside the city walls was evident in their faces.
The populace here were less fearful of the clerics and most simply glanced at them and turned away, carrying on with their business. The stallholders and merchants continued shouting their prices and drumming up sales, paying little attention to Utha and Torian.
The Kasbah of Haq was like a dozen other marketplaces in the outer city, a roughly circular section of street dominated by colourful awnings and closely packed market stalls.
Torian pointed to a nondescript building set back from the market. ‘That’s the place. I believe it’s called the Blue Feather.’
‘The nicer the name, the shittier the brothel, as a general rule,’ Utha replied, with a smile.
‘Well, I’ve not actually been to many, so I’ll defer to your expert opinion, brother,’ Torian said snobbishly.
‘You can look, you just can’t touch… the women or yourself,’ the Black cleric retorted crudely. ‘Anyway, enough of what you can’t do. I believe the man’s name is Glenwood, yes?’
Torian nodded. ‘He’s a forger, known in certain circles, though he’s seen as unreliable and reckless by many in the same trade.’
Utha shot him a questioning look. ‘Have you been mixing in dark circles,
Lisa Mantchev, A.L. Purol