“When are we going to get there?”

“We’ll get there when we get there.” Caste snapped at Giordi.

The going had been uphill for the better part of an hour. The rocky foothills had given way to steeper slopes. For a time, Judd was worried that the only way to reach Quarre would be to climb. Thankfully, due to Caste’s excellent navigation skills, they found there was a main road, hard packed and well worn.

“Quarre is the small city that operates the largest quarry in Terra.” Caste had explained when asked how he knew there would be a road. “You didn’t really think they wouldn’t have a maintained road in order to transport the blocks of stone they cut from the ‘Hump’, did you?”

“It never occurred to me.” Judd admitted.

As if confirming Caste’s word, a large cart drawn by four Clydesdale horses and piled solidly with stone blocks, lumbered down the road. Judd and his party had to duck to the side to avoid being trampled.

“How far to Quarre?” Judd inquired of the driver.

“Lengthen your gait and you’ll be in time for ‘is lordship to invite yer to supper.” The man grunted, flicking his reins, the cart ambling down the road.

“Is he really setting out at this hour, without any guards?” Verne remarked.

“Who cares? Supper in a lord’s house,” Giordi rubbed his hands together, “let’s do as the man said and lengthen our gait!”

Unfortunately, lengthening their gait led to breathlessness which caused them to need to stop. Judd wondered if they would have made better time had they walked slower and not pushed themselves so hard. Judd was starting to wonder if they ought to forgo a lord’s supper and find somewhere to camp as the shadows of the pine trees that littered the slopes began to lengthen drastically, the sun sinking even more rapidly in the mountains than on the plains they’d left behind. However, before he could make up his mind, the gates of the city appeared around a sharp bend. The road led up to the gates but also branched away to lead around the north side of the city which was protected by a wall of rock.

“Must be a direct road to the quarry rather than the carts coming through town.” Verne observed.

“Gates are shut.” Judd nodded at the wooden gates that were made from lengths of pine. And as the pine trees grew tall, the gates were equally impressively so.

Caste wheezed something. Judd turned to him. “What?”

“B…be…bell…” He flapped his hand uselessly towards the gate. Judd turned and saw a bell cord hanging on the side of the gate. Judd strode towards it and gave the cord a solid yank.

A loud chime sounded and before its last echo had faded, a voice called down to them from atop the wall the gates were bound to. “The gates of Quarre close at sunset!”

Judd glanced over his shoulder, the sun sinking fast.

“Knocking off early today?” He joked lamely. The guard said nothing but Judd could sense he was unimpressed. “We have business in Quarre!”

“I see you are armed. We have no need of the business of knights or warriors here.”

“Our horses were brought here by the shepherd brothers, Clai and Rai Borre. We are here to collect them.”

“I know these men. Who are you? Speak your name!”

“Judd LaMogre.” The voice didn’t reply. Judd looked over his shoulder at the others who looked as idealess as he. “Listen, I’ve got a cleric of the Order of the Grail out here, a young woman, a minstrel and an archer…it’s nearly a full moon which makes camping in the wilds very unsafe! You’re not really going to…”

There came the sound of wood groaning and a heavy thump then chains rattled and one of the gates creaked and groaned, opening enough for a guard to appear.

“Judd LaMogre, your presence has been anticipated by Lord LeMewn. It is on his good grace that you are permitted into Quarre after sunset,” Judd wanted to argue the sunset issue but kept his teeth clamped together, “but you must vouch for the integrity of your companions.”

“Yeah, they’re good.”

The guard frowned then cleared his throat and nodded. “Very well…enter.”

“They’re good?” Giordi whispered. “Have you learned nothing during our eloquence lessons?”

Judd shrugged helplessly and followed the others through the narrow pass the open gate had created. He noticed that Aalis stayed behind him, her dreadlocks tightly plaited and covered in her hood.

“Wait one moment before I escort you to his Lordship.” The guard said, entering a guardhouse. They could hear him speaking and then a boy appeared from the guardhouse and, with only a fleeting but very curious glance at Judd and his companions, took off like a shot into the city.

Judd glanced around at their surroundings. Being a city, Quarre was much larger than any other village or township they had come across except for the forts and even then, it would be a close match.

Judd looked at Caste. “Probably should have asked this before but…Quarre isn’t a fort, is it?”

“No. It’s a city, probably the only city other than Astaril that isn’t a fort.” Caste replied.

“Is that why it is governed by a lord and not a knight?”

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Caste glanced over his shoulder at the guardhouse then stepped forward to whisper in confidence. “When the previous knight of Quarre died, LeMewn, petitioned King Rocheveron for permission to be made lord of Quarre. He was already an illustrious resident so it was little change for him.”

“Why did LeMewn think he had the right to request such a post?” Judd whispered in return.

“LeMewn had a brother, Rocheveron, who married Viene, the only direct heir to the throne of the line of Andigre and Grail.”

Judd nodded. “LeMewn is King Rocheveron’s brother?”

“I think he had a different mother after Rocheveron’s mother died and his father remarried but yes.”

“Not a blood relative of the throne?”

“Not exactly…but close enough for a heavy degree of respect.” Caste stepped back as the guard reappeared.

“I apologise for the wait,” he bowed sharply, “I had to make sure my post was covered so I could escort you to His Lordship and it gave him time to prepare for your arrival.”

“Carry on.” Judd blurted then proceeded to follow the guard who strode swiftly down the main strip of Quarre.

Unlike other villages and towns, even the ones associated with forts they had visited thus far, the buildings of the residents of Quarre were not made of wood and thatch. Everything was made of stone, cut from the quarry that was secreted off to the side of the city. While it had a solidness that was impressive to behold, Judd noted that it was also quite grey. Even the second story of the buildings of the main square, which were made out of wood for lightness, seemed to be tinged with greyness.

Judd didn’t know how to phrase the question delicately and was wondering if he could point it out to one of his companions when the answer to his question appeared. A line of workers entered the main square from a street that led to the side the quarry was on. They were covered in grey dust, their faces streaked with grime and sweat. Judd also noted that they left footprints in the stone pavers behind them and turned to see that they, too, were leaving tracks. Not of what came off their shoes, but rather, where their soles picked up what was already on the ground.

“You can taste it in the air, too,” Giordi said, seeing Judd’s glance and guessing his revelation, “its…metallic on your tongue, like you’re biting down on steel.”

“Have you been here before?” Judd asked as Giordi smiled at several young women who were looking at him, whispering urgently to each other. He could almost feel their gaze, eyeing the young minstrel up and down.

“I do not recall specifically…” He beamed as one young woman approached and slapped him, hard. She flounced back to her companion who congratulated and consoled her. Judd raised his eyebrows at Giordi who shook his head. “Oh yes…I’ve been here before.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just remember where you’ve offended daughters and wives?” Verne grunted.

“Easier…but nowhere near as entertaining.” Caste grinned.

In the middle of the main square, as was the case with most villages, towns and even cities, was a well. However, unlike other wells, the well of Quarre was at least a man’s length wide, the wall was three foot high and on the four points of the compass were metal pumps so that, rather than using the traditional method of drawing water with a bucket from the metal rail, water could be pumped into containers.

A waft of humid air struck Judd and he turned to see a sign for a public bath and made note of it, thinking he could use a solid soak and wash. There was also a tavern on the opposite side.

“I think we’ll be using some of Sir Egrette’s gold tonight.” Judd remarked.

“I saw a cobbler sign back there.” Verne pointed. “We’ll need to visit it at some point.”

Judd began to fret about the cost of rooms, food, clothing and a decent bath.

It wasn’t easy maintaining such a large group.

“This way, sir.” The guard drew them on, to the right and up a steep, winding incline of steps, which had their only recently rested calves screaming at them, to a grand house that stood higher than all the others. There were no buildings on the slope to the house but there were large, staggered platforms with rambling rose bushes, creeping vines and carefully maintained shrubbery. It was the only colour, so far, that Judd had noticed that wasn’t grey. The boy who had run from the guardhouse was fingering a pretty, shiny coin. The guard told him to go home to his mother for he was done for the day and he scampered off.

The front of the two storey house had a large, square entrance that jutted out from the rest of the house, the pillars reaching to the roof on the second storey. The guard led them to the front doors, set back from the pillars and rapped smartly on the door. It immediately opened and the doorman spoke softly then dismissed the guard who bowed to Judd and left.

“Sir LaMogre, please, come in. His Lordship awaits.”

“Oh…well…” Giordi cleared his throat and jerked his head so Judd swallowed his words and did as he was told, the others following him inside.

The foyer was lit brightly with many candles, the floor made of polished wood squares. Judd immediately noticed he was tracking grey dust that he’d picked up from the city streets. There was a chandelier hanging from the two storey ceiling, damask drapes adorning the long windows and a beautifully woven rug on the floor that Judd made sure not to walk on.

“Sir LaMogre!” Judd looked up to see a man of burgeoning girth with silvery hair slicked back from his face. He was descending the stairs in a velvet cloak, a gold chain hanging around his neck. “Welcome to Quarre, knight of Astaril.”

“Thank you for your gracious welcome but I…”

“Come, my dear and meet our guests.” Lord LeMewn gestured for his wife to step forward. She had been hidden by his extravagant and illustrious form. It was not that she was dowdy but her manner was the complete opposite of her husband. He boomed and she was quiet and demure. Her hair was an unremarkable shade of brown, neither light nor dark while LeMewn’s looked like slightly curly silver strands. His arm gestures were almost out of control while she kept her hands clasped neatly in front of her. His clothing was opulent and hers, while lovely, was rather plain in comparison. “Sir LaMogre, allow me to introduce my wife to you, Lady Lia LeMewn.”

Judd floundered as Lia offered her hand to him. He suspected that, with the hand offered, permission was already given and took her gloved fingers and barely touched the lace before retreating.

“My lady, the descriptions of your beauty do no justice for you are lovelier in person than they have led me to believe.” He recited, feeling utterly ridiculous and a hopeless fraud.

She gave a light blush in pleasure then retreated as he had done, standing behind her husband’s elbow. “Welcome to our home, Sir LaMogre.”

“Ah, about that…I…”

“Clariet! You are tardy…come…”

“Apologies my Lord,” Clariet said in a smooth as silk voice that put even Giordi’s satin tones to shame, “I was attending to the matter of tomorrow’s trial and judgement.”

Clariet was clothed in the same style as Caste, however, despite being of a similar build to Caste, the robes suited him, tailored to flatter his shape and shortened so that he was not always catching his booted feet on the hem. Even the sleeves had been shortened so that his hands could be seen and not swallowed up inside a far too long cuff. Caste’s tunic was calico, off white and after months of journeying, it was starting to come off as brown, the hem filthy and torn in places. In comparison, Clariet’s tunic was pure white, shimmering with a hint of satin lustre and his cappa clausa, the hooded cape that all members of the Order of the Grail wore, was made from a dark red velvet. The embroidery on the hem was in gold thread whereas on Caste’s, it was in the same colour thread as the cape and so, didn’t stand out like Clariet’s. Not surprisingly, Clariet’s pendant which was the four pointed start within a circle was bigger than Caste’s as well and possibly studded with precious jewels.

“Clariet is my cleric, though he will profess he is a deacon.” LeMewn winked but there was nothing subtle about it.

“I was promoted to the office of deacon before being assigned this post, my Lord,” Clariet’s voice did not waver, showing neither embarrassment nor agitation, “welcome, Sir LaMogre…your reputation precedes you.”

“I am not a knight!”