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... es against the Holy Order!" he barked, spittle flashing under the dying torchlight.

Van Dijk turned his gaze toward him with a look that was neither amused nor angry—merely tired. A wolf regarding a barking dog.

"You know, Clement," Van Dijk said, his voice low, steady as the slow pull of a blade from its sheath, "I was here when your 'Order' was still nothing but a group of ragged preachers, begging scraps in the alleys of Lufondal."

He took a step forward.

Mot s ...

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