![]() ![]() ![]() ‘Can they be taking all that wood for Hróth?’Įsbar grunted. ‘Those must be salt warriors,’ Tunuva said. Three riders in leather and mail, their hair oiled in a Hróthi style, barked orders at the Ments. Through a crack between two boulders, Tunuva watched a train of carts head north at sunrise, laden with lumber. It might be fun,’ Esbar mused, ‘watching him squawk as I refuse to burn.’ Tunuva went to pay. ![]() ‘What do I have to fear from his dead knight?’ Esbar eyed him over her cup of apple wine. In the past, the wine den at Svartal must have welcomed orchardists, mountain singers, mirrorfolk. Any other form of worship was severely punished. The Six Virtues had been present for at least a century, especially in the west, where Yscali influence was strongest – but now the law enshrined their supremacy. Before the Midwinter Flood, every faith in the world had earned followers here. Mentendon had once been a mosaic of cultures and beliefs, even when its own ancient religion had been widespread. On the fourth day, they stopped for supplies and a hot meal at Svartal, where the Ments mined a rare black salt. The salt road was the fastest way to Sadyrr, the way that Siyu would most likely have come. Without their ichneumons to track the scent, they relied on reason. They rode for as long as they could by night, the air chilling as they moved farther north.īy day, they slept among dark boulders or oak groves, out of sight. The salt road cleaved to the Smoking Ridge. ![]()
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