Prince of Thorns
“Around us the brothers mixed with the lowest of the Low Town, gaming, whoring, and gorging. Rike sat close at hand, his face buried in a roast chicken. He appeared to be attempting to inhale it.“Have you even seen the Castle Red, Jorg?” Makin asked.“No.”Makin looked at his ale. He hadn’t touched it. For a few moments we listened to the sound of Rike crunching chicken bones.“Have you?” I asked.He nodded slowly and leaned back in his chair, eyes on the lanterns above the street-door. “When I was ...a squire to Sir Reilly, we took a message to the Lord Gellethar. We stayed a week in the guest halls at the Castle Red before Merl Gellethar deigned to see us. His throne-room puts your father’s to shame.”Brother Burlow staggered by, belly escaping over his sturdy belt, a haunch of meat in one hand and two flagons in the other, foaming over his knuckles.“What about the castle?” I could care less about a pissing contest over throne-rooms.Makin toyed with his ale, but didn’t drink.MoreLess
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