8
Hiding the wince of pain, Baltura stood and turned to meet the one who had come from Doveton. It wouldn’t be Polson. The soldier knew to remain in town and keep the villagers working.
The messenger, escorted by two of his guards, strode into the large barn he used as a place to eat, sleep, and plan. Fires burned in hearths at both ends, and several mercenaries sat in groups at different tables talking, eating, and gaming. None of them would care much about the news the messenger brought. They understood their place in his plans and remembered the results of those who had spoken or acted out of turn.
“He’s alone,” said one of the guards.
Baltura nodded, then attempted to recall the young man’s name. “Lonny,” he eventually said, and was rewarded with a nod, “what do you know that has g
