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On the way to the great hall, I was pushed into walls and tripped no fewer than seven times. Finally, bruised and bleeding, I was presented to Lord Guerney, who sprawled in his massive chair. “He didn’t come peacefully?”
“We found Sharp the Bard bound in his room. This dog intended violence to the man.”
Why would I intend that? The child had only tried to kill me.
“Well, then,” Lord Guerney huffed. “So it seems that you are not at all what you seem. Are you a spy?”
I shook my head.
“A spy, yes. But for who? Not Lord Reinard. My dear friend would never be so base as to send a spy into my castle. No, he must believe that you are as dumb as you act – and therefore won’t be insulted if I put truth into that dull fiction.” He looked at my keepers. “Take this man below and have his tongue ripped out.”
That bastard.
