The gates closed behind them with enough force to shake dust from the stone arch.
Inside, Count Maren's castle no longer resembled the seat of a prosperous border lord. Wagons crowded the lower courtyard, packed so tightly that servants had to turn sideways between them. Refugees slept beneath canvas stretched from the walls. Wounded soldiers occupied the covered walkways, while priests moved among them carrying water, bandages, and bowls of smoking incense.
The smell of smoke did little to cover the scent of decay.
Serenna's horse shifted beneath her.
She looked toward Teclos. "It's coming from below us."
"I know."
Captain Dalen heard them.
"What is?"
Teclos dismounted and handed the reins to one of Maren's stable boys.
"The dead."
Dalen looked around the courtyard. "There are funeral pits outside the walls."
"That isn't what he means," Serenna said.
A bell rang from the northern tower.
The people in the courtyard stopped moving.
For several seconds, no one spoke.
