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husband's brother.

Chapter 5
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Brelan Saur ran a hand through his thick brown hair and cursed. His footsteps, as he walked up the steps to the tavern, were hard and angry.
    For months he had been trying to get into Boreas Keep, but every time he tried to gain access, he had found extra lookouts—Temple Guards, at that—surrounding the place. He had tried to get messages through to Legion on where to meet him, but spies in Rylan Hesar's network had failed. Finally, one of his men told him that Teal had brought news from the Dark Overlord, himself, that all the men were well and had joined forces to fight Tohre.
    "Damn it!" Brelan spat as he jerked open the tavern door with a snap. "Damn it to hell and back!"
    He should have been in Boreas Keep at that moment, not trying to find Conar to tell him he had failed. Conar wasn't going to like it, and he wasn't going to allow Brelan to give him excuses about his failure. He could feel that scathing tongue lashing him even before he heard it.
    And hear it he did.
    What Brelan heard as he entered the Hound and Stag tavern was nothing compared to what he saw. The sight made his blood run cold.
    Conar stood on a table, a naked blade in his powerful hand, the tip pointed with unsteady aim at the throat of a menacing Temple Guard. Another guard lay dead on the floor in a pool of blood.
    Brelan groaned with despair. Around him stood Roget du Mer, Shalu Taborn, Sentian Heil and Thom Loure, men who usually stayed close to Conar's side, all dressed in the unkempt disguise of the Wind Force. Conar, however, his bearded face uncovered, his long braided hair swinging behind him, was toying with the man at his blade tip while his own men hovered by uneasily.
    "Repeat it, you scum!" Conar shouted in a slurred voice that made Brelan flinch.
    If he hadn't staggered, if he hadn't lost his footing on the ale-slick table, if he hadn't fallen backward into Roget's waiting arms, Conar more than likely would have severed the head of the Temple Guard—a man Brelan had been cultivating for months at Boreas Keep. The guard, who was likely trembling more with annoyance than fear, would no doubt have stood his ground until death, rather than strike out at the Darkwind, but that was beside the point. The next guard might not.
    Brelan was furious as he looked at Shalu. "How many in this room are ours?"
    "All, Wren," Shalu swore, using Brelan's cover name. "These guards came in only a moment before you did."
    Sentian and Thom had swords pointed at the surviving guard. Brelan strode forward to knock away the swords. " He's one of us, you bumbling idiots! Roget, you promised to protect him! Do you remember that, Hawk? Is this how you go about it?"
    "He got a little drunk, that's all," Roget said.
    Brelan gave a disgusted snort and turned to Thom. "Get that dead man buried before the whole Temple Regiment comes down on us!" He pointed a finger at Roget. "And get his ass upstairs and out of sight!" He swung around to fix Shalu with a murderous glare. "This guard's name is Zeb. See that he's sent through the undercurrent to Chrystallus. If I hadn't come in when I did, you bastards would have lost us a valuable man!"
    Shalu ground his teeth together. "It got out of hand."
    " It got out of hand?" Brelan sneered, "or he got out of hand?"
    "We were watching him."
    "Watching him?" Brelan bellowed. "He drew a sword to the throat of a Temple Guard, Rook! One of Kaileel Tohre's personal guards, at that! You have no way of knowing how important this man is to us. His information will be invaluable! What if Darkwind had been just a bit less sober? Huh? There were two to his one. They could have cut him down. Drunk as he is, it's a wonder he's still alive!"
    Shalu grunted. He folded his arms over his massive chest and glared back at Brelan. "You know only his own weapons can harm him. And nothing happened to him."
    "Nothing…" Brelan took a step forward. "Aye, and you're damned lucky, Rook!"
    "He's a grown man, Wren,"