Chapter 44ii

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Merchant Dres was seated at one of the betting tables, surrounded by ledgers and paperwork. He did not look up as Master Tzarren strode across the canvas chamber, Karek at his heal. He did not even show any unease as six knights of Klinberg entered behind them, followed by units of soldiers who spread out to cover the other doorways within the tent. A pair of Merchant Dres' guards were stationed outside each one, and though they tightened their grips on their weapons, they made no move of aggression. The two savage women from the south lands that Karek had seen on his previous visit stood behind the merchant's chair.

Svell SanMartin had entered the tent before them, but they had given him little time to announce their intentions. He stood now beside Merchant Dres, his face unreadable.

Karek stopped beside Master Tzarren in front of the betting table, and at first it seemed that the merchant intended to ignore them. A few seconds passed before he spoke.

"I thought your search here was complete, Unit-leader Karek."

He continued writing in the ledger, before Master Tzarren leaned forward and closed it, causing the merchant's chamber-pen and fingers to be caught between its heavy pages.

"It seems it is not," said the Lance-master.

It was then that Merchant Dres showed the first signs of irritation. He pulled his fingers from between the pages of the ledger and looked Master Tzarren slowly up and down.

"Tell me," he said, once he had fully taken in his faded uniform and unshaven features. "What authority does a Lance-master have to force his way into the tent of a merchant of Naddaran, uninvited?"

"This," said Master Tzarren.

The two southland women tightened their grip on their spears, and on the knives at their belts, as he drew his sword and dropped it on the table in front of the merchant. The sword clanged down, knocking over a tall stand of chamber pens and sending its contents rolling over the table's surface.

Merchant Dres looked at the sword with distaste, then raised his eyes once more to Master Tzarren. His mouth twitched in an assured smile, which Karek did not like.

"Unit-leader Karek has searched these tents, and Commander Kralaford's child is not here."

Master Tzarren met the man's smile with his own, leant forward, and rested his fists on the table's edge.

"Unit-leader Karek has done his duty admirably well," he said. "But the child we are looking for in this instance is not the Commander's."

Karek thought he detected a hint of unease in Merchant Dres' features, before his calm demeanour returned.

"I believe you have me at a disadvantage regarding my understanding," he said as he pushed the ledger he had been writing in, and the sword lying on top of it, away, clearing a space on the table in front of him.

Master Tzarren remained where he was, his fists still resting on the table.

"Commander Kralaford's child is not here," he said. "But you know where he is, because you are holding the son of his nursemaid as hostage."

Merchant Dres took a sheaf of papers from a pile at his elbow, and placed them in front of him.

"I am afraid I do not know what you are talking about, Lance-master." He then retrieved one of the chamber-pens from where it had rolled across the table, unscrewed its top, and signed the first piece of paper on the pile. "Seior SanMartin," he said, as though his betting tent was not filled with knights, soldiers and an aggravated Lance-master. "Please ensure that these orders are carried out."

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