There was something calculated about his laughter, something insidious about his question. Darius tensed, but he forced himself to remain calm.

“You know the people as well as I,” he said as Betty arrived with a second plate of thick bread slices, along with a small cup filled with golden honey. Darius refused the offered honey, earning himself a frown.

“We’re allowed few indulgences in our lives,” Temaryn said as he drizzled the honey across his bread. “You should learn to accept them.”

“If you say so.”

Temaryn took a bite.

“You still haven’t told me about Durham.”

Darius shifted, his hand inching closer to his greatsword.

“Wolf-men crossed the river, not a thousand, only a few hundred. We stood against them, myself and the rest of the village. Nearly two-thirds of the people died, so I doubt too many are singing our praises.”

“What of this paladin of Ashhur?”

Darius swallowed.

“His name is Jerico. Yes, he helped as well.”

Temaryn fell silent for awhile, instead focusing on his bread. When the first slice was down, he sucked the honey from his fingers, then leaned back in his chair.

“I must admit, I was sent to Durham to find you. We’d heard a pretty outlandish story, and the Stronghold wanted me to look into the matter. Supposedly you had turned against Karak, and abandoned your faith. Needless to say, I found this hard to believe. I remember you from our training. The world would turn upside down sooner than you abandoning Karak.”

A grim smile crossed Darius’s face.

“To my shame, I must admit my faith in Karak is less than it was,” he said. “But it is still strong.”

“Good,” Temaryn said, taking another bite of bread. “So was it difficult killing this Jerico?”

“No.”

“No difficulty at all? Well, not much of a surprise-”