Read Seeds of Betrayal for Free Online Page B

walking toward the main doors of the shrine. Before he could reach them, however, he found himself standing before the prioress.
    “I heard you cry out once or twice,” she said. “It was a difficult night?”
    The assassin gave a wan smile. “Yes.”
    “More difficult than most?”
    “More difficult than all that have come before.”
    She raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope our sanctuary brought you some comfort.”
    “It did, Mother Prioress. I wouldn’t have wanted to endure last night anywhere else.”
    A smile touched her lips and was gone. “That’s kind of you to say.”
    She turned away and Cadel started toward the doors once more.
    “If last night was so difficult,” she said, stopping him, “it may be time you considered a new profession. Much of what the god teaches us can only be gleaned through patience and contemplation. But on occasion, his lessons are as clear as the new day.”
    He gazed at her briefly, then nodded. “Thank you, Mother Prioress.”
    She smiled again, but Cadel could see in her eyes that she had little hope he would heed her words.
    He left the shrine as quickly as he could. He had much to do, he told himself. Lord Tavis was hunting the Forelands for him, and Cadel himself had quarry to pursue. And before he could turn his mind to any of that, he wished to pay a visit to a tavern in Dantrielle. It was called the Red Boar, and it was there, nearly eighteen years before, that he had first met Jedrek. He could only hope that this visit would bring him such good fortune.
    In any case, he had no more time to waste in Solkara.
    Or so he wanted to believe. He knew, however, that the truth lay elsewhere. He wanted to put as much distance as possible between himself and the sanctuary, to rid himself of the memory of the previous night, to be sure, but also to get away from the half-blind prioress who seemed to see him so plainly.

Chapter Three
    Orvinti, Aneira, Bohdan’s Moon waxing
    The four dukes raised their goblets, the shifting flames in the hearth reflected on the polished silver.
    “To Chago,” Brail said. “May Bian grant him a place of Bhonor and may the Underrealm shine with his light.”
    “To Chago,” the others said as one.
    They sipped the wine, then settled back in their seats, Brail still holding his cup so that it balanced on the arm of his chair.
    Another gust of wind made the shutters rattle and stirred the tapestries hanging on his walls. He loved to see the hills covered with snow, Lake Orvinti shimmering with their reflection. But judging from the winds that already blew down from the Scabbard, this year’s freeze was going to be harsher than most.
    Fortunately, the growing turns had been generous. His people wouldn’t starve, and there was plenty of food and wine to share with his guests. Such company was a rare luxury this time of year, and though he regretted the circumstances that had brought the other men to western Aneira, he was glad to have them in his castle just the same. Most dukes chose not to travel in the colder turns; usually they spent the waxing of Bohdan’s Turn preparing for the god’s festival on the Night of Two Moons.
    Had it not been for Chago’s death and the funeral in Bistari two days earlier, Brail too would have been busy with the celebration. As it was, he had been eager to return to Orvinti. Storms struck the Hills of Shanae every year around this time, and the last thing Brail needed was to be blocked from his castle so close to Bohdan’s Night. So, after Chago’s funeral, when Pazice insisted that he invite the dukes back to Orvinti, he was more than happy to comply. Most refused, as he knew they would. It would have taken many of them farther from their homes and at least a few of them-the duke of Rassor came to mind-didn’t like him very much.
    Those who did come, Ansis, Bertin, and Tebeo, were friends and allies of both Bistari and Orvinti. To the extent that any duke in Aneira trusted another, they