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Crabannan's laugh died the moment Athanar began to speak, for he could sense a sword's edge behind the man's words. And sure enough, there it was: the threat of court marshall. For Lithor. Crabannan's face turned hard and cold, like dark basalt. He gritted his teeth, but showed no emotion.
"Treason?" he said, trying to hold his temper in check. He felt his hands shaking. He knew this feeling, and it did not bode well - mostly for Athanar and his men. "Treason?" he said again. "He meant no harm and spoke no ill. He has not threatened, or murdered, or deserted, or disobeyed. Lithor is not a traitor," he finished quietly - but he found himself instinctively counting the unfriendly faces turned in their direction. "There are traitors and cowards in this room, but he is not one of them."
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