Uldor had scarcely gotten his cloak and gloves off, before Brodda came to his chambers. Uldor bid him enter and allowed him to speak while he changed and washed.
“I guess you know that the old man is here, locked up,” Brodda began.
“Yes.” He splashed the water over his blood stained hands. “Is that all?”
“No, my lord. I have just learned that Khandr, the Borrim leader, has been murdered.”
“By whom?” Brodda shrugged, but Uldor’s back was to him. “Well?” Udlor snapped.
“I don’t know. No one does.”
Of all the most annoying things to happen, besides Lachrandir being killed, this had to be the worst. Why couldn’t someone murder Ulfast or Ulwarth? Get rid of some competition, instead of killing off his potential allies.
“I am dressed and ready. Go and tell my tardy brother that I am waiting for him. We have work to do, and he can’t tarry all day with that beautiful woman. Oh, yes. Let him know that I know. Traitor,” he muttered. “Both of them.”
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