Chapter sevenI felt no surprise whatsoever at this turn of events. The fate of envoys bearing overweening and unwelcome demands very often involves having their heads served up on plates for Return To Sender.
In this case there was no sender to whom my old vosk-skull of a head could be returned. They took my two swords away. They didn’t chain me up. Portlo stowed my weapons away under his chair and then waved me off.
In a voice far more gravelly than his, I said: “You will come to your senses soon, Render. Red Rackan will have no mercy on you if you make an unwise decision. Think well on this — Render.”
With that off we went. My guard, four hefty fellows, were clearly much put out that they’d drawn this duty. They wanted to start the evening’s drinking and entertainments.
Waiting in th
