Dishonour by Dee Carteri (best memoirs of all time .txt) 📖

is guarded at night to prevent illegal stonecutting. They couldn’t have got in."

"Maybe they climbed down."

"Maybe, but I doubt it. Do you have a rope? I want to check something out."

Rodul fetched a rope from his saddlebag and gave it to Daken. Daken tied one end of the rope securely to a stump and the other end around his waist, then began to lower himself down the incline. Rodul watched him disappear over the cliff. Rodul sat down on the road and waited., thinking about a particular ale he liked.

A minute or so later, he heard Daken call in an exuberant voice, "Alright! Pull me up!"

Rodul pulled the rope slowly, taking care to dig his feet firmly into the slightly tilted ground. Once the younger knight was on solid ground, and both were breathing heavily from the exertion, Daken pressed a crimson mass into Rodul’s hand.

"What’s this?" he asked between breaths.

"Moss. There’s tons of it on the cliff. All green moss. All covered in blood."

Rodul shook the bloody mass out of his hand in distaste. "So what does this prove? That they injured the horse to scare it off the cliff?"

"No. It proves," said Daken, "that they injured the rider. Don’t you see?"

Rodul shook his head blankly.

"If the horse tumbled over the cliff like we think it did, it would have been moving a great speed and would almost certainly be a few feet away from the quarry wall at the beginning. Now the rider could easily have slouched backwards and dragged against the moss. However, this moss is soft and on flat rock, and simply banging his had against the stone would not cause bleeding so profuse. My guess is that Franir was dead long before he went over the cliff."

Rodul said, "So let’s go take another look at the body."

Two hours later, they stood outside the temple where Franir’s body was held, arguing in vain with a resident Seer.

Rodul explained, "It’s not ‘defiling the dead.’ We just want our surgeon to take another look at the baron."

The Seer took out a book and flipped through the pages. "This book was written by Seerlord Violet in the four hundred and twenty-third year after Revelation. It is considered by many to be the best account of the Will of Gaia ever written. Here, read this. I assume you can read?"

"Yes," said Daken and took the text. He read out, "Defile not the bodies of the dead with the instruments of the living, for the desecrated bodies shall then never return to Gaia."

Rodul asked, "But wouldn’t Gaia make this small sacrifice in order to find the good Baron’s murderers?"

"Gaia cares little for the notion of revenge."

The surgeon they hired said, "Look. I’ll leave my tools here with you if you please. Just let me take a look at Franir."

"I suppose son," said the Seer.

The surgeon emerged an hour later, pale as a ghost.

"That man was murdered."

The Seer turned, "What?"

Daken and Rodul asked in unison, "How?"

"It was hard to tell, especially without my tools, but I think it was a knife wound to the neck, about half an inch across, and quite deep. Didn’t you see a hole in his armor?"

"There were many holes in his armor. He had a very long fall."

Rodul said, "But how? No knife that thin could puncture armor, unless it was made with-"


"What are you implying?" Juri, the owner of the Great Mill, asked angrily.

Daken calmly replied, "Nothing, good miller. We just need to see a list of your steel clients for our investigation."

"This mill’s going downhill as it is without you knights putting one of my clients out of business."

Rodul stood. "Perhaps you forget yourself, miller. We are Knights of the Monastery, in the service of Nesel Trunam and Marshall Maceol and the Sheriff of Whiterift. We could have you arrested for impeding the investigation, and raise the charge to minor treason. Have you ever watched a hanging, miller? Watched a man beg for mercy before the chopping block and thought nothing of it? Of course you thought nothing of it, knowing that their deaths are necessary, that Octania is better without them. But that is what people will think of you, miller. If you cross us, you will die, and all will celebrate your death."

Juri shrunk back. "I will tell you."

Rodul sat down, "Begin."

"Well, every month we deliver two tons to Lord Randolph’s armory, one ton to Baron Ikio’s smithy, three hundred pounds to an independent blacksmith in the inner city by the name of Coste Lakeson, and one and a half tons to the Blacksmith guild forge."

"Where is Coste’s smithy?"

"It’s on the north side of the Fourth Square."

Rodul nodded and left them room, but Daken said, "Thank you for your help, Juri. I apologize for our uncouth behavior."


As they left the mill, Daken exclaimed, "What were you doing in there? You threatened a freeman! You’ll get us both discharged!"

"Daken, sometimes it is necessary to frighten people to uphold the Knighthood."

"You call that upholding the Knighthood? What is the Knighthood?"

Rodul looked puzzled at him. "What kind of a question is that? The Knighthood is what buys our horses and forges our armor. It gives us what we need to fight so that we can serve Octania."

"No," replied Daken. "The Knighthood is honor. And the four pillars of honor are-"

"Fortitude, Compassion, Temperance and Faith," finished Rodul, bored. "Daken, honor is about upholding the ideals of both Gaia and the Knighthood. Sometimes, compassion and temperance are needed. But in there, fortitude was required." Rodul sighed. "Maybe you’re just too young to understand."

"That did a great deal more harm than good, Rodul. Right now the only thought on that man’s mind is that the Knights are corrupt, and someday Lakent is going to come and free the oppressed of them."

"He’s just a miller."

"He has friends and family, Rodul. You may have just converted a dozen people to the side of Lakent. At this rate, if we do end up in civil war, all of Whiterift will raise the Bolare standard."

Rodul said, "Fine, you win. Do the talking from now on and see where it gets us. What do you think of Lakeson?"

"We should arrest him."

"Agreed. Send a letter to the Sheriff asking for a troop of deputies. I’ll see if I can get some of my knight friends to help us, and we’ll move on the smith tonight," said Rodul.


It was several hours after the sun set when three knights arrived at Daken’s door. They were wearing chainmail cuirasses and steel gauntlets and greaves. Over their armor were linen gowns of various colors representing their families and ranks.

"Welcome to my home, gentlemen," said Daken and motioned them inside.

Rodul and Amelie sat in Daken’s common room, and Rodul stood to greet the knights.

Rodul walked over to the four men and introduced them. "Daken, this is Sir Penag, Lieutenant of the White Lions; Sir Aloce, the reputed wyvern slayer; and Sir Bakine, an old friend serving in the Whiterift home guard. Penag, Aloce and Bakine, this is Sir Daken, Lieutenant of the Fist of Octania and my assistant in this investigation.

All three knights crossed their wrists against their chests in warrior salute; Daken returned the gesture. Daken said, "We’ll leave as soon as the deputies arrive. Anyone care for a mug of beer?"

Penag, a large man, probably from the southeastern duchies, exclaimed, "By Gaia, I haven’t heard such genius since they stopped making us attend morning ceremony. What brew are you stocking?"

"Whiterift stout, from the outer farms. The very best, I assure you," answered Daken.

Penag clapped him on the shoulder, "Good lad. Let’s go draw a cup!"

Daken turned to the others, "And you two?"

Sir Aloce, a strange muscled man, with brown hair the exact same color as his eyes, flatly said, "None for me, but thank you for your hospitality."

"Ah, Aloce, you old dry sod! Come; you can’t fight without some fire in your belly!" said Sir Penag.

Aloce softly countered, "In our profession, we have a tendency to get knocked over. I’d prefer not to do our enemies’ work for them."

"Hah! The man can’t even take a cup without going tipsy. Well? What about you, Bakine?"

Bakine said, "I’m in. Lead on, good Lieutenant."

As they left the common room, Daken whispered to Rodul, "That man is your friend?"

He replied, "He’s just a little boisterous before a battle. Trust me though, he’s one of the best warriors around, and a good friend in peacetime besides. You’ve got to forgive some people for occasional weaknesses." As they crossed into the dining-room, Rodul added, "Still, watch yourself you don’t give him more than a pint or two. Penag isn’t a pretty sight when he’s really drunk."

Daken poured out two large tankards and handed them to the knights, surprised at how his dining-room had shrunk now that five fighting men inhabited it. He took a small cup for himself, while Rodul still held the drink he had before the knights showed up. He said, to make conversation, "So, Sir Aloce, you slay wyverns? How many have you killed?"

"Seven," said Sir Aloce in a matter-of-fact sort of way.

Daken laughed and said, "I suppose you got some Blue Magi too? Maybe the odd dragon? I hear over in Hell they’ve got a real demon problem-" He froze, looking at the surrounding faces. "He’s telling the truth, isn’t he?" Bakine nodded. "I’ll be damned. Seven. How many men do you have?"

Sir Aloce replied, "Three. Two men-at-arms and my squire."

Rodul asked, "Shouldn’t your squire be here?"

"No. He’s in Lecoy for his brother’s wedding."

Daken said, "There can’t be many slayers your match."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. It’s a growing profession."

"Always the humble one, eh Aloce?" Penag exclaimed, "As I hear it told, this man here is the very best in the kingdom, especially for his age."

Daken gazed at the wyvern slayer. How one could know his age was certainly a mystery, for his face could be one of twenty years or fifty, and Aloce did not seem the type that ever talked about himself.

"Perhaps," Aloce repeated.

Penag slammed down his cup, saying again, "You’re the best in the kingdom, Aloce my lad, the best since Maceol himself!"

Daken inquired curiously, "Maceol was a wyvern slayer?"

The four other knights said in unison, "Of course."

Rodul continued, "He killed his first when he was twelve years old.

Jumped on it from a balcony and drove a longsword through the back of its neck. Just like that. Slew eleven since."

"Hates wyverns, that man does. He’d hunt them down even if there wasn’t a reward," added Penag.

Bakine explained, "It’s said that his younger brother was killed by one."

"His mother and father too, as I hear it told."

Rodul stated, "I doubt that. I’ve seen his father in the flesh, and he seemed quite alive to me. Can’t speak for his mother, though."

Sir Aloce said, "So how about you, Lieutenant Daken? Seeing as you’re so interested in my accomplishments, how about yourself?"

"I, I’m sorry, good knight. I didn’t mean to offend," Daken stuttered.