Shantar followed in silence. He could see in his mind the small but thriving community, with children playing in the dirt, the smoke from cooking fire... curling lazily upward. Then came the killing, the burning, leaving shattered homes, trampled fields, and bloody corpses. He thought grimly that the ceremonies of the green clad priests had not really been necessary. The dying thoughts of the villagers were curse enough to blacken the place.A shrill yell split the air as a mass of horsemen poured. ‘Small words. Short sentences.’ Lowering his head to the cool surface of the table, he mumbled out a muffled, ‘That’s all I can handle at the moment.’ ‘Fine,’ Jean put his glass down and opened the fridge, removing a package wrapped in white butcher’s paper and a carton of large, brown eggs. ‘Short sentences then,’ he said, as he began preparing breakfast. ‘Why did you get drunk last night? My guests couldn’t have been that dull.’ Aidan snorted derisively, as he recalled the inane conversation. More

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