He had been in the stable when a guard brought news of men on the far shore. He had taken the stone stairs to the top of the battlements two by two, joining the rest of the sentries in staring out over the stillness of the lake. The six knights had not moved from their original position on shore. The sky was pewter-colored; the mist still formed a pale shifting layer over the water and where it began to grow thinner, the moss appeared so green beneath the horses’ hooves it looked like a velvet carpet. “It would appear as though we have visitors,” Tamberlane murmured to no one in particular. One of the sentries scowled. “An odd way for visitors to approach, my lord. Shall I trumpet forth the rest of the guard?” Tamberlane shook his head. “Do it quietly, without fanfare. Thus far we have no reason to believe they are anything but weary travelers seeking nothing more than a place to rest their heads, fill their bellies, and share a jug of ale before moving on.” “Do you believe that, sire?”
