I disdainfully gestured to the Akindra to sit. It smiled, what teeth it still had crooked and yellow even in the fire. It took its gauntlets off and warmed its hands by the fire.

“You may sit, too,” I said to the other knights. One shifted to dismount, but the other jangled its spurs; so many things I see clearly now. Did the Prophetess not say we see only when vision no longer matters? Wisdom.

I will move behind them, Olveg said in the whisper tongue, knowing Akindra are too primitive to hear the tones, much less comprehend them if they could.

Need I tell you Olveg was a fool? May The Chamberlain escort his souls to The Gardens Of Muahr.

“You have the plans?” I asked the Akindra.

“Aye. You have my gold, and my passport?” it replied. I smiled an affirmative smile.

We have been at war with these Akindra for twenty-five years. They are primitive, but skilled with stone—they make such fine slaves for this very reason. Nonetheless, their stone towers repelled our siege engines and spells. An irony.