Chapter 19‘I don’t think those men are tithe gatherers at all.’
Standing in Rannick’s dishevelled garden, Gryss felt his insides go cold. Marna’s words were perhaps only the petulant grumblings of an over-sensitive young woman disturbed by recent events, but their effect was like that of a gentle leaf-stirring breeze which tilts an aging tree that final fraction too far and sends it crashing down, seemingly without apparent reason.
‘What makes you say that?’ he asked, struggling to keep his voice from reflecting the turmoil within him that had abruptly been released.
Marna pulled a wry face. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Their appearance. Their behaviour. Everything. They’re a shifty-looking lot, not to say downright nasty-looking. Why would the King hire a motley crew of foreigners like t
