The Storm's Own Son (Book 2) by Anthony Gillis Page B

closed up early for, ah, the comfort of our guests... we get mostly a quality clientele. Foreign. Merchants and captains... dignitaries, and ah...."
    Talaos interrupted him, "No one is to enter or leave this place without my permission. We'll be taking the common areas and any unoccupied rooms. Those already here may wait out the storm, but then you'll be getting orders from me for them to leave."
    "Ah... Yes Tribune, certainly."
    "One more thing," added Talaos, "we have wounded and ill. Do you have a larger rooms where we could keep them together, and is there a physician available nearby?"
    "Most of my best rooms on the top floor are vacant, given, ah, recent circumstances. There's no physician on the premises, but perhaps when the storm lessens we can find one."
    Talaos then swept into motion. He put a guard of eight men in the lobby under Larogwan, and a guard at the stairs on each of the four upper floors.  They carefully carried or escorted the freed prisoners and their own wounded men to a large room on the top floor, commandeered extra beds, and set up an informal hospital with a soldier on watch. Talaos claimed another of the large top floor rooms for himself as a headquarters.
    The inn was large enough that he distributed each of  his men a room of their own. After weeks in camp, and a day of hard fighting in the rain, Talaos thought that must have seemed like paradise to them, and their faces certainly showed it.
    Outside the storm raged, and called to him.
    Then there was the question of the paying guests. Talaos had not been oblivious to the implications of references to foreign merchants and dignitaries. He decided to gather them up in the common room for questioning.  They were few, for a place so large. But then he thought, the city had been under siege.
    One was a ship captain from the Southlands, and with him were two merchant passengers. They were regretful they hadn't left before the storm, and terrified of the entire situation. Five, of a similar mix and outlook, were from the seven realms. Eight were merchants of Hunyos from enemy cities that had been trapped on the wrong side of the fleets. Talaos decided to keep them for questioning by Sanctari and the commanders.
    Six were easterners, and only one of them admitted to speaking Imperial. He made many protests. Talaos escorted them under arms to his headquarters room, and with Vulkas and Epos standing by, questioned them.
    "We are neutral in this war," the man said, "and should not be treated as prisoners!"
    "This city was just taken by assault," replied Talaos in a low, dark voice, "and as one who was trading with our enemies, you should be glad we are acting with restraint."
    The man processed that unhappily, then his face hardened and he replied, "Restraint? Men of your army attacked the House of the Prophet!"
    "And how do you know that?"
    "One of my men was there, before he fled in advance of the enemy troops."
    Talaos laughed, then replied, "And if he was there, what description did he give of the man who led those advancing troops?"
    "No man, but a demon wreathed in lightning, with eyes of blue fire!"
    Talaos made a pitiless smile. On a harsh impulse, he put forth a bit of his sleeping power, just enough to make his eyes flash brightly for a moment.
    The man drew back in fear, and the five with him cringed.
    "I am no demon, but a man," said Talaos, dangerously, "a man with gifts that are as natural to me as yours are to you. If you had the power, you would happily see me burning on that pyre in the square for it. But unfortunately for you, you are in my power."
    The spokesman of the easterners again found his courage, though his companions still cringed, and he replied, "You will burn in this life, or the next, for the sin you have allowed to enter your soul. May the day be soon that it is cleansed from you on the pyre."
    Talaos was undisturbed by the other's statement, and replied in his same dangerous voice, "Did your master the Prophet send