As I trod down the hall, I made and discarded plausible excuses. When I reached the tapestry I decided against speaking at all. I'd just take a quick peek, and if the livery was Merindar, then I'd have to hire someone to ride back and warn the Renselaeuses.
I pulled my soggy cloak up around my eyes, stuck out my gloved finger, and poked gently at the edge of the tapestry. Remember the surmise I recorded on my arrival at the Residence that day in early spring--that if anyone were to know everyone's business, it would be the servants?
I glanced inside in time to see a pale, familiar face jerk up.
And for a long, amazing moment, there we were, Meliara and Shevraeth, mud-spattered and wet, just like last year, looking at one another in silence. Then I snatched my hand back, now thoroughly embarrassed, and spun around intending retreat. But I moved too fast for my tired head and fell against the wall, as once again the world lurched around me.
I heard the faint metallic of chain mail, and suddenly he was there, his hand gripping my arm. Without speaking, he drew me inside the bare little parlor and pointed silently at a straw-stuffed cushion. My legs folded abruptly, and I plopped down.
"Azmus--" I croaked. "How could you--I sent him--"
"Drink." Shevraeth put a mug into my hands. "Then we can talk."
Obediently I took a sip, felt sweet coffee burn its way pleasantly down my throat and push back the fog threatening to enfold my brain. I took a longer draught, then sighed.
The Marquis looked back at me, his face tense and tired, his eyes dark with an intensity that sent a complexity of emotions chasing through me like darting starlings.
"How did you get ahead of me so fast?" I said. "I don't understand."
His eyes widened in surprise, as if he'd expected to hear anything but that. "How," he asked slowly, "did you know I was here? We told no one when I was leaving, or my route, outside of two servants."
"I know you were here," I said. "I sent Azmus to you. With the news. About the Merindars. You mean you already ?"
"Let us backtrack a little," he said, "if you will bear with my lamentable slowness. I take it, then, that you were not riding thus speedily to join me?" With his old sardonic tone he added, "Because if you were, your retreat just now is somewhat puzzling, you'll have to admit."
I said indignantly, "I peeked in because I thought you might be one of the Merindars, and if so, I'd send a warning back to you. I mean, you if you were there. Does that make sense?" I frowned, shook my head, then gulped down the rest of the coffee.
He smiled just slightly, but the intensity had not left his eyes.
The serving maid came in, carrying a bowl of food and some fresh bread. "Will you have some as well?" she said to me.
"Please," Shevraeth said before I could speak. "And more coffee." He waited until she went out, then said, "Now, begin again, please. What is it you're trying to tell me, and where are you going?"
"I'm going to Orbanith," I said, and forced myself to look away from the steam curling up from the stew at his elbow. My mouth watered. I swallowed and turned my attention to pulling off my sodden gloves. "I guess I am trying to tell you what you already seem to know--that the Merindars are going on the attack, with hired mercenaries from Denlieff. But--why do you want me to tell you when you already know all this?" I looked up from wringing out my gloves.
"I am trying," he said with great care, "to ascertain what your place is in the events about to transpire, and to act accordingly. From whom did you get your information?"
The world seemed to lurch again, but this time it was not my vision. A terrible sense of certainty pulled at my heart and mind as I realized what he was striving so heroically not to say--nevertheless, what he meant.
He thought I was on the other side.
I pulled my soggy cloak up around my eyes, stuck out my gloved finger, and poked gently at the edge of the tapestry. Remember the surmise I recorded on my arrival at the Residence that day in early spring--that if anyone were to know everyone's business, it would be the servants?
I glanced inside in time to see a pale, familiar face jerk up.
And for a long, amazing moment, there we were, Meliara and Shevraeth, mud-spattered and wet, just like last year, looking at one another in silence. Then I snatched my hand back, now thoroughly embarrassed, and spun around intending retreat. But I moved too fast for my tired head and fell against the wall, as once again the world lurched around me.
I heard the faint metallic of chain mail, and suddenly he was there, his hand gripping my arm. Without speaking, he drew me inside the bare little parlor and pointed silently at a straw-stuffed cushion. My legs folded abruptly, and I plopped down.
"Azmus--" I croaked. "How could you--I sent him--"
"Drink." Shevraeth put a mug into my hands. "Then we can talk."
Obediently I took a sip, felt sweet coffee burn its way pleasantly down my throat and push back the fog threatening to enfold my brain. I took a longer draught, then sighed.
The Marquis looked back at me, his face tense and tired, his eyes dark with an intensity that sent a complexity of emotions chasing through me like darting starlings.
"How did you get ahead of me so fast?" I said. "I don't understand."
His eyes widened in surprise, as if he'd expected to hear anything but that. "How," he asked slowly, "did you know I was here? We told no one when I was leaving, or my route, outside of two servants."
"I know you were here," I said. "I sent Azmus to you. With the news. About the Merindars. You mean you already ?"
"Let us backtrack a little," he said, "if you will bear with my lamentable slowness. I take it, then, that you were not riding thus speedily to join me?" With his old sardonic tone he added, "Because if you were, your retreat just now is somewhat puzzling, you'll have to admit."
I said indignantly, "I peeked in because I thought you might be one of the Merindars, and if so, I'd send a warning back to you. I mean, you if you were there. Does that make sense?" I frowned, shook my head, then gulped down the rest of the coffee.
He smiled just slightly, but the intensity had not left his eyes.
The serving maid came in, carrying a bowl of food and some fresh bread. "Will you have some as well?" she said to me.
"Please," Shevraeth said before I could speak. "And more coffee." He waited until she went out, then said, "Now, begin again, please. What is it you're trying to tell me, and where are you going?"
"I'm going to Orbanith," I said, and forced myself to look away from the steam curling up from the stew at his elbow. My mouth watered. I swallowed and turned my attention to pulling off my sodden gloves. "I guess I am trying to tell you what you already seem to know--that the Merindars are going on the attack, with hired mercenaries from Denlieff. But--why do you want me to tell you when you already know all this?" I looked up from wringing out my gloves.
"I am trying," he said with great care, "to ascertain what your place is in the events about to transpire, and to act accordingly. From whom did you get your information?"
The world seemed to lurch again, but this time it was not my vision. A terrible sense of certainty pulled at my heart and mind as I realized what he was striving so heroically not to say--nevertheless, what he meant.
He thought I was on the other side.
( Sherwood Smith )
[ Court Duel ]
www.QuoteSweet.com