‘Lead on, Dorsk.’ Rhyode smiled at the younger man.
Zhira found that she was suddenly suspicious of her protector. He sounded cheerful. She looked back at Vesta, who had gathered all their horses together. Her Temple sister had retreated to
the wall. Realising that she was being watched, the young woman offered her friend a nervous smile.
Dorsk was nearly a head taller than Rhyode. He led them straight up the steps, unchallenged by the surly pair of guards who stood at their base. Her protector walked close by her as she scrambled after the lanky youth. Dorsk reminded her of a heron: a pair of long, skinny legs with badly fitting leggings.
‘Captain Vanusk was right, though.’ His voice was high, and jittered with nerves, but he persisted. ‘Lord Graidon won’t be out of bed before noon
