The question hung in the air between them.
Everyone in the square knew what he was talking about.
Earlier that day, Lord Eude's mercenaries had killed seventeen innocent people - men and women who had done nothing wrong except try to protect their homes and families. Their bodies had been dragged away, but their blood still stained the stones, and the memory of their screams still echoed in everyone's minds.
Gales shrugged his shoulders as if the question meant nothing to him. "We killed whoever Lord Eude told us to kill. That's what he pays us for."
He scratched his beard and looked at Jolthar with the kind of interest a cat might show in a mouse it was about to catch. "Why? Did you know some of them?"
The words were like putting a torch to dry wood.
Jolthar's anger, which had been building like pressure behind a dam, suddenly burst free.
