EPIC: Fourteen Books of Fantasy (359 page)

From
the
moment
he
inherited
the
title
of
Lord
Nal’Thain,
it was
speculated
as
to
whom
he
would
wed.
It
was
clear
that
a house
of
such
vast
riches
and
influence
should
have
an
heir. That
Dauvis
Nal’Thain
has
left
his
fortune
to
Lee
to
begin
with had
caused
great
discomfort
among
the
nobles,
being
that
he was
a
commoner
and
former
servant.
But
luckily,
Lee
had sufficient
gold
and
the
wherewithal
to
silence
their
protests. Even
so,
as
he
had
shown
no
more
than
a
passing
interest
in
any of
the
noblewomen
in
Hazrah,
many
feared
for
the
future
of
his house.

He
glanced
over
his
shoulder
and
scowled.
Millet
was
riding just
behind
on
an
old
painted
mare.
His
prematurely
gray
hair and
weathered
features
gave
him
the
appearance
of
a
far
older man.
In
fact,
he
was
only
thirty-eight,
a
mere
fifteen
years
Lee’s senior.
Still,
he
was
neither
frail
nor
timid.
On
the
contrary,
he sat
straight
and
proud
as
any
lord,
and
his
simple
green
cotton shirt
and
brown
pants
were
tailored
and
well
fitted
to
his
thin frame.

“You
could
have
dressed
a
bit
better,
don’t
you
think?”
scoffed
Lee.
Lee
had
a
somewhat
strained
relationship
with Millet.

“Perhaps,
my
lord,”
he
replied.
“But
as
we
will
be
beyond
the gates
in
minutes,
and
out
of
the
public
eye,
I
chose
to
dress
for the
journey.”

Lee
glared.
He
knew
Millet
disapproved
of
drawing
attention to
themselves
on
this
particular
trek.
They
would
be
away
for quite
some
time
if
all
went
according
to
plan,
and
marching
off as
if
to
war
would
only
start
rumors
flying
prematurely.
“I dressed
according
to
my
station,
Millet.
But
don’t
worry.
I brought
the
rags
you
had
placed
in
my
quarters
this
morning.”

“They
were
put
there
last
night,”
corrected
Millet.
“Which
was
when
we
were
meant
to
depart.”

“I
refuse
to
skulk
off
in
the
night
like
a
thief,”
said
Lee, irritably.

“It’s
not
skulking,
my
lord,”
he
countered.
His
tone
was
calm and
emotionless,
but
his
eyes
told
a
different
tale
as
they
met Lee’s.
“We
are
to
be
away,
and
under
assumed
names.
Do
you not
think
we
should
be
a
bit
less
conspicuous?”

Lee
shrugged.
“I
don’t
see
why
it
should
make
a
difference. Besides,
I
had
promised
Lady
Grivalti
a
dance.
Should
I
have broken
my
word
and
canceled
the
party?”

“I
think
Lord
Grivalti
would
rather
you
did,”
said
Millet disapprovingly.
“Particularly
being
that
I
saw
Lady
Grivalti leaving
the
manor
this
morning…without
her
husband.
And there
was
no
party
scheduled
until
yesterday
afternoon.
Begging your
pardon,
but
I
think
you
wanted
the
delay.”

“And
if
I
did,”
Lee
growled.
“Who
are
you
to
question
it?
I swear,
sometimes
I
wonder
why
I
keep
you
around.”

Millet
chuckled.
“Why
indeed?”

Lee
knew
very
well
just
how
valuable
Millet
really
was.
He had
dismissed
him
a
year
ago,
after
a
particularly
long
night
of drinking
and
dancing.
It
only
took
three
days
before
Lee
realized that
without
Millet,
things
would
soon
fall
apart.
It
was
amazing to
him
how
quickly
he
could
lose
gold
through
his
own mismanagement.
Orders
for
his
mining
interests
needed
filling daily,
shipping
schedules
needed
confirming,
not
to
mention
the basic
requirements
of
his
own
household.
Lee
fumed
as
he recalled
the
smug
expression
on
Millet’s
face
when
he
was forced
to
ask
him
to
return.

After
they
were
an
hour
from
the
city
gate,
Lee
halted
to change
into
his
travel
clothes.
He
looked
at
the
dusty
rags
Millet had
given
him.
A
plain
brown
tunic,
tan
trousers,
and
a
worn pair
of
black leather
boots.
“I can’t
believe
you want
me
to dress like
a
bloody
pig
farmer.”

Millet
frowned.
“It
would
be
unwise
for
you
to
travel
openly, my
lord.
It
would
attract
unwanted
trouble.
It’s
bad
enough
that you
chose
to
ride
your
best
stallion
and
bring
your
finest
sword.” Lee
knew
he
was
right.
He
was
always
right,
and
that
was
what
really
annoyed
him.
“You
know,
I
liked
you
much
better when
I
was
a
servant.”

“When
you
were
a
servant,
you
were
far
more
responsible,” Millet
retorted.
“And
now
you
have
the
added
burden
of
the prophesy,
which
is
why
you
really
should
be
more
mindful.”

“I
wish
I
had
never
told
you
about
that,”
said
Lee
as
he mounted
his
stallion.

“The
fact
is,
you
did
tell
me,”
said
Millet.
“And
when
the Oracle
of
Manisalia
speaks,
you
should
pay
heed
to
her
words.

If
the
prophesy
came
to
pass
today,
and
you
were
given
the
hope of
the
world
to
protect,
you
would
not
be
prepared.”

Lee
spurred
his
horse
forward.
“Why
do
you
think
I’m
going
on
this
journey?
The
sword
masters
in
Hazrah
have
nothing more
to
teach
me.”

“True,”
said
Millet.
“But
I
wish
you
would
have
chosen
to seek
out
a
master
that
was
not
so
far
away,
or
in
so
wild
a
place. Dantory
is
an
unsophisticated
desert
oasis.
When
was
the
last time
you
left
creature
comforts
behind?”

“I’m
not
soft,”
said
Lee.
“I
can
deal
with
hardship.
Besides,
I hear
the
women
in
Dantory
are
beautiful
beyond
compare.”

Millet
sighed
and
shook
his
head.
“I
have
a
feeling
this
will not
end
well.”

Lee
laughed.
“Don’t
worry.
I
promise
I’ll
only
pursue
unwed maidens.”

Travel
that
day
was
pleasant.
The
warm
spring
sun
was
made comfortable
by
a
cool
southern
breeze
coming
off
the mountains.
The
scent
of
honeysuckle
and
pine
needles
wafted through
the
air,
bringing
a
smile
to
Lee’s
face.
Normally,
they would
lodge
in
one
of
Lee’s
country
homes,
or
in
the
home
of another
lord,
but
as
they
wanted
to
keep
their
departure
and destination
out
of
the
rumor
mill
for
as
long
as
possible,
they had
decided
to
camp.

Millet
started
a
small
fire
and
prepared
some
rice
and
lamb
he had
packed
away.
Lee
lounged
on
his
bedroll,
content
to
watch
Millet
work.
The
light
from
the
fading
day
began
to
wane,
and
the
dim
twinkle
of
starlight
peeked
through.

“I
think
we’ll
cut
through
Dashivis
Pass,”
said
Lee,
as
he tossed
his
bowl
carelessly
aside.

Millet
retrieved
it,
muttered
a
curse,
and
began
to
clean
up.
“I think
that
would
be
a
bad
idea,
my
lord.
Bandits
are
known
to frequent
there.
Nothing
would
please
them
more
than
to
run across
two
travelers
foolish
enough
to
brave
the
pass
without
an armed
escort.”

“You
worry
too
much,”
said
Lee.
“I
can
deal
with
any
bandit scum.
It
will
cut
at
least
two
weeks
from
our
journey,
and
I would
like
to
get
there
as
quickly
as
possible.”
He
smiled.
“You could
always
turn
back.
I’m
sure
your
services
would
be appreciated
back
home.”

“I
doubt
you
would
be
able
to
manage
without
me,
my
lord,” said
Millet.
“You
are
a
bit
too
rash
to
be
left
on
your
own.
And if
you
insist
on
taking
the
Dashivis
Pass,
I
would
ask
you
to allow
me
to
take
the
lead
if
we
encounter
anyone
on
the
trail.”

Lee
rolled
over
and
grumbled.
He
swore
to
learn
how
to
run things
without
Millet
when
they
returned.

Millet
shook
Lee
awake
the
next
morning.
The
sun
had
hardly broken
the
horizon
and
a
few
stars
were
still
visible.
Lee
rubbed his
eyes
and
sat
up.
He
was
unaccustomed
to
rising
this
early, and
the
sight
of
Millet
cheerfully
packing
the
horses
angered him.

“Why
must
you
be
so
bloody
cheerful?”
Lee
struggled
to
his
feet
and
stretched.

“It’s
just
as
well
that
you
learn
to
grow
accustomed
to
seeing the
dawn,
my
lord,”
Millet
replied.
He
looked
pleased
that
Lee was
still
tired.
“In
Dantory,
you
will
be
Lee
Starfinder,
not
Lord Nal’Thain.
The
sword
master
will
not
teach
you
according
to your
schedule,
and
will
likely
expect
you
to
rise
early.”
He tossed
Lee
a
bar
of
soap.
“There’s
a
stream
a
few
hundred
yards north.
You
should
wash
the
oil
from
your
hair.
It
is
a
clear indication
of
wealth,
and
will
draw
brigands
down
on
us
like
flies
to
manure.”

Lee
ran
his
fingers
through
his
hair.
“As
you
wish.”
His
tone was
sarcastic
and
venomous.
He
stalked
away
toward
the stream.

The
pass
was
a
full
three
days’
ride
over
rocky
terrain,
and Millet
was
right
about
it
being
frequented
by
bandits.
A
few merchants
used
it
in
the
spring
and
summer
months,
but
always with
a
large
escort.
Even
then,
there
were
occasional
attacks. The
king
had
tried
in
the
past
to
make
it
safe
for
travelers,
but bandits
would
nip
away
with
hit
and
run
attacks
until
losses became
too
much
to
justify
the
cost.
In
the
winter,
the
snow made
the
crossing
impossible.
Many
a
traveler
had
lost
their
life in
the
attempt.

Once
Lee
had
washed
and
mounted,
Millet
took
a
scrutinizing glance
and
nodded,
satisfied.

“You
do
realize,”
said
Millet.
“That
even
in
spring
the mountain
pass
is
cold,
and
you
brought
no
warm
clothing.”

“The
time
we
save
will
be
worth
the
discomfort,”
Lee
replied.

Millet
reached
back
into
his
pack
and
pulled
out
a
thick blanket.
“I
think
only
one
of
us
will
be
uncomfortable.”

Lee
snorted
and
spurred
his
horse.

The
road
to
Dashivis
Pass
was
narrow
and
uneven.
It
wound its
way
through
the
dense
pine
forest
for
fifty
miles,
then
over the
rocky
foothills,
straight
into
the
heart
of
the
Razor
Edge Mountains.
The
melting
of
the
winter
snow
had
washed
out large
sections
of
road,
making
it
even
more
difficult
to
travel. What
would
have
taken
only
take
a
day
and
a
half
on
a
well cared
for
road,
took
Lee
and
Millet
five.
The
mountains
loomed above
them
like
great
horned
beasts
threatening
to
devour
them. The
forest
thinned
and
was
mixed
with
thorny
bushes,
and
was dotted
in
between
with
tiny
yellow
flowers
springing
forth
from the
jagged
earth.
When
they
were
a
mile
from
the
entrance
to
the pass
they
came
upon
a
section
of
road
that
had
been
completely washed
away,
leaving
a
huge
gap
in
the
road
ten
feet
deep
and ten
feet
wide
that
stretched
east
to
west
as
far
as
the
eye
could see.