"The Gods be with you, Mistress," the man above called down.

"May the light of the Goddess illumine you," she returned.

They followed Dolanna as the three younger ones gawked and stared at the streets of Torrian. The streets were narrow and a bit crooked, with large houses built so close together that they all seemed to be the same structure in the darkness. There was an acrid pall that hung in the air, what his father had always called the "city smell", the smell of garbage, unwashed people, waste, and stone and wood. The streets were not deserted, as people moved to and fro in small groups, or parties of city watchmen patrolled the city in search of thieves.

It was obvious where Duke Arren lived. It was a huge keep set on a small hill overlooking the river that flowed through the city. It was a brooding structure, with impressive stone walls and a deep, steep ditch dug around the walls that were filled with sharpened stakes, the towers of the keep itself visible over the walls. There was a drawbridge out over the staked ditch, down, with a gatehouse on the other side. A portcullis hung threateningly at the top of the gatehouse roof, ready to drop down to protect the castle from invasion on a second's notice. Four men stood at the other end of the drawbridge, and Tarrin could see about ten more sitting around a table set up in the courtyard beyond the gatehouse. Dolanna stopped them at the edge of the drawbridge as two of the four advanced. Tarrin could see that they were all wearing chain mail armor, and all four held pikes.

One of the two, the taller, one, called out in a friendly voice. "Mistress Casbane?" he asked.

"You have a good memory," Dolanna smiled. "I have not been here in many years."

"I remember you," he said. "You healed my broken arm. Duke Arren is here. Would you mind waiting in the courtyard while I send a man to let him know you're here?"

"That would be very good," she said.

The two men led them over the drawbridge and into a large courtyard, where they dismounted. Like the castles that his father had described, this one had several buildings inside the impressive walls. He couldn't identify all seven of them, but one was obviously a smithy and another a stable, and another looked like either a kitchen or a storehouse. The ten men sitting at the table set up in the middle of the courtyard were the only men to be seen, and despite the many torches set in holders along the walls, the courtyard was dark and foreboding. The main keep was on the far side of the courtyard, a massive construction of huge stone blocks that clawed its way well past the height of the city walls. It had a tower on either side of the main structure, which was easily four stories tall. There were a multitude of window, both arrow slits and larger, more conventional windows, but those larger windows were on the upper floors. There was a balcony on the highest level that he could see; that, most likely, was the Duke's private bedroom. Eron Kael had remarked to Tarrin once that Torrian Keep was over a thousand years old, and in all that time, it had never fallen to an enemy army. He also said that if he ever had the chance to visit it, to go to the main hall and look for a small hole just to the right of the center on the wall where the raised dais was, where the old Duke of Torrian had been killed by a man who had used a bow so powerful that it had driven the arrow through him and so deeply into the wall behind him it had left a hole half the length of an arrow. That had happened three hundred years ago, so his father said, and it had started the civil strife that had brought the present family into power in Sulasia, the kings of the Markas line.

The front doors were massive, at the top of a steep staircase that made the entry level the second floor, and the ground floor a basement. They were made of wood, but they had hammered bronze sheathing the wood, creating a burnished look that was more than visible in the light of the two torches to each side of them. It was obvious that several servants polished those bronze covered doors fairly often. The doors opened a bit, and a rather well proportioned man wearing a red doublet and hose exited. As he approached, it was obvious he was a middle aged man, but still burly in the shoulders and spry of step. Once he was near, Tarrin saw that he was a very handsome man, with a few wrinkles around his eyes and some gray peppering his black hair and beard. Dolanna curtsied to the man gracefully as Faalken bowed, and Tarrin, Walten, and Tiella followed suit. Just alot more clumsily.

"It's good to see you again, Dolanna," the man said with a smile. "Still roaming the countryside?"

"When I have the chance, your Grace," she replied with a smile. "Faalken you may remember, but these young ones you have not met. May I present Tiella Ren, Walten Longbranch, and Tarrin Kael, pupils journeying to the Tower."

"Pleased to meet you," the Duke said with a smile.

"I know it is late, old friend, but do you have room for five more?"

"Dolanna, I'll make room," he said with a grin. "I need to throw some of these lackeys and sycophants out anyway."

"If it pleases you, your Grace, may we dispense with the visiting until tomorrow? We have been on the road since before dawn, and we are all tired."

"Of course, of course," he said. "I'll have baths arranged for you, and some dinner, and some rooms with soft beds. We can catch up on old times in the morning, over breakfast. Tiv, have the hands stable the horses, and have their packs sent to their rooms."

"Aye, my Duke, I'll see to it," one of the men behind them replied, as he trotted towards the stables, shouting some names.

"Come along then, we'll go give my seneschal some work to do," he said.

The entrance hall of the keep was massive, with vaulted ceilings and several suits of armor arrayed on posts to each side of the hall. There was also a huge, well made tapestry hanging at the far end of the hall, where it opened into the main hall of the keep. "Your Grace," Tarrin blurted, "my father told me a bit about this castle. Is the hole still there?"

Duke Arren chuckled. "Yes, it's still there," he replied. "You can look at it in the morning, if you like."

"Maybe," he said, blushing at having said anything in the first place.

"Your father's a historian?" he queried.

"No sir, he's a soldier," Tarrin replied. "He's retired now."

"That's the best kind of soldier to be," Arren said. "Kael? Eron Kael's boy?" he asked quickly.

"Yes, my lord," Tarrin said, a bit surprised.

"I remember him. Tall fellow with wide shoulders. The deadliest bowman I ever saw in my life. I hear he makes a living selling arrows now."

"He brews ale on the side for something to do, my lord," Tarrin said, a bit startled at this bit of information. "Pardon my asking, but how did you know my father?"

"He was garrisoned here for a while," he replied. "He had this wife, the tallest woman I ever saw, an Ungardt-" he looked at Tarrin a bit closer. "Yes, that would be her I see in you," he mused to himself. "Are they still married?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Amazing. I was sure she would have killed him by now."

Tiella giggled.

"You have quite a family reputation in front of you, my boy," Duke Arren told him as they went up some stairs at the far end of the entrance hall. "Eron Kael was a good man, the kind of man we like to have around. His wife, well, she was quite a work. She was the best fighter with an axe I ever saw. If not for the law against women fighting in the army, she'd probably had been a good officer. Karas knows, even I jumped when she barked commands at me."

"I'm just surprised you knew my father, my lord," Tarrin admitted as they turned into a wide, well lit corridor that had a thick rug that went all the way to both ends.

"He was the kind of man that's hard to forget," Arren told him.