CHAPTER SIX
From the balcony of a house in Carrick, the Master of Crows watched the gathering armies, looking out through the eyes of his creatures. He smiled to himself as he did so, a sense of satisfaction creeping over him.
“The pieces are in place,” he said, as his crows showed him the gathering ships, the defenders rushing to build barricades. “Now to watch them fall.”
The bloody sunset matched his mood today, as did the screams coming from the courtyard below his balcony. The day’s executions were proceeding apace: two men caught trying to desert, a would-be thief, a woman who had stabbed her husband. They stood tied to posts while the executioners worked with swords and garroting rope.
The crows descended on them. There were probably those who thought that he enjoyed the violenc
