Lord Werian brought them to a halt outside a large wooden building. At once Rick noticed that the construction was different from the others. Beams dug into the ground at forty-five degrees supported the walls. The reason for this arrangement was the many windows. Lord Werian waved a hand toward the edifice, “The Writing House,” he said, “or as the chief pen-smith calls it, the Scriptorium.”
“Is it part of a monastery?”
“Nay, this is a thriving business – no time for prayers. More than half of the pen pushers are former monks, mind you. Others are young lads schooled here in the village to do the work. Come, I’ll present you to Master Alric, he’s in charge here.”
The master pen-smith, as the thegn had called him, was a grey-haired, hook-nosed fellow, who had formerly been responsible fo
