Not *quite* knights

*I like his hair.* Clessidi whispered in Avren’s head, referring to the group’s new prisoner. 

And what does that say about my hair? Avren asked his Issiral. 

*Hmm. I think it's better than Lauras' hair.* Cless responded. Avren frowned, patting his grey dappled horse, named Lauras, on the neck. 

Thanks. Avren thought glumly. Avren looked at his left hand, wrapped in the rains of Lauras’ bridal, a slight glow in it. The glow in his hand fluctuated the smallest bit, and a tingle ran up his wrist. 

*You're very welcome.* Cless responded, if she’d had arms, they’d be crossed tightly, and if she’d had a face, it would be glaring at him.

Avren turned in his saddle and looked back at the group’s “prisoner”. The External magic user walked along casually, acting as if the rope binding his hands wasn’t there. 

*I don’t see why you get so offended all the time.* Cless’s voice popped into his head again. 

Look who’s talking. He said. He heard a little huff inside his mind, and the faintest sound of footsteps pattering away. Clessidi was odd like that sometimes, acting like she actually wondered about in his head, like she really had a body.

Avren turned back to the prisoner, the man kept lifting his hands to scratch his neck. Everytime he did that motion Orsoes and Jeldea shared nervous looks as the ropes attached to their saddles’ tightened. It would seem the man liked tormenting everyone, while scratching at his neck his hand would pass right through a glowing blue necklace. The necklace was a multitude of leaves and other scrolls. It shimmered brightly, the glow was almost hard to look at for too long. Each and every man in Avren’s party had gotten a sick feeling when the External magic user had called his Ssral into the condensed form. Sometimes the prisoner would mutter something, and the faintest, almost wind like voice would sound. It was so faint you couldn’t understand it, but Avren and the others knew it was the External magic user’s Ssral.

“So does anyone want to know my name?” The prisoner asked, raising his hand up.

“You can state your name to the king.” Phlan responded, “Along with a confession to your crimes.”

“I’m Telteir Reyl. And your name?” The prisoner--Telteir-- asked, tugging on the rope that connected to Jeldea’s saddle. Jeldea jumped slightly and turned around to look at Telteir through shaggy bangs.

“Jeldea, son of Lord Gamoron.” He said.

“Son of Gamoron?” Telteir asked. “Aren’t there hundreds of you Gamoron boys?”

“My mother only knows about four . . . “ Jeldea said, smiling. Teltier laughed.

“And whata ‘bout you?” Telteir asked, pulling on the line that Led to Orsoes.

“Orsoes, son of Master Ves.” Orsoes quietly, glancing back at him with dark eyes.

“Never heard of you.” Telteir said bluntly. “And tree over there?” Telteir continued, thumbing over his shoulder at Pars.

“As if I’ll answer to you.” Pars responded.

“You just did.” Telteir said, not turning back to look at Pars. The longbowman’s face furrowed. “Aaaand, now you!” Telteir said, jerking his bound hands back at Marrel. The large, thick shouldered man gave a startled look.

“Marrel.” He said bluntly.

“No ‘son of’ to speak of?” Telteir asked. Marrel shook his block of a head. “Goin’ against the pattern I see. Good for you.” Telteir scanned the rest of the group. “Hmm, let’s see. Just did you.” He said, pointing to Orsoes. “Don’t care about you.” Said as his finger passed Phlan. “Haven’t done you, or you!” Telteir said, pointing one finger at Ilmetton, the other at Avren himself.

“Ilmatton, son of Lord Maser, nephew of King Cassae.” Ilmetton said.

“Ooh. That one’s fancy. Can you top that blonde?” Telteir asked Avren.

“Avren, ward of Sir Manthins.” Avren said. Avren heard Pars sigh in the back of the group.

“You know what I just noticed!” Telteir exclaimed. “The obvious lack of ‘Sir’s throughout these introductions . . . anyone know why that might be?”

“Well, we aren’t quite knights.” Jeldea said.

“Jeldea!” Phlan snapped. “Don’t--ugh.”

“Not quite knights?” Telteir laughed. “Does this mean you’re not quite taking me to the Circum?”

“You will still see justice.” Phlan said.

“Oh please no!” Telteir threw up bound hands. “The last thing is need is being plopped in not quite a dungeon.” Telteir laughed once again. “I honestly don’t know why I’m still here, I could have gone long ago. That simply shows you how bored I am . . . I get capture just for a short conversation.”

“And how’s that working for ya?” Jeldea asked.

“Great! Haven’t you noticed?” Telteir asked.

“No, not quite.” Jeldea said, both men broke out laughing.

“Would you just stop it!” Phlan snapped.