A group of travelers reined in their horses in alarm.
Where the map said a road should be, a cliff had appeared instead.
"What's going on?"
A gentle old man's voice came from inside a carriage trimmed with gold.
They were Duke Rodwell, on his way to the Holy See, and the knights of his household escorting him.
The knight-captain riding at the head of the column brought his horse up to the carriage and reported.
"It seems we've taken a wrong turn. One of the signposts back there must have been wrong."
A rattle.
The carriage window slid open, and Duke Rodwell put his face out.
He was head of the Noble Council — entirely white-haired, portly, with a mild and gentle look about him. But his dark brown eyes were sharp, unyielding.
"Dear me, and the day's already going dark."
Being deep in forest, once the…
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