I am on my way Home but I will be a little later than I planned. I stepped funny on a rock under the water when we were crossing the fords at Beruna a few days ago and hurt my foot a little. It is not very bad and I am well looked after so please do not worry. I am at the inn in the woods where we stayed in the Autumn, where we met Honeydrowse. I will be home next week or the week after.
I’m sorry for taking so long to write back. It seems like there are always things happening here, or new people being friendly to talk to, or interesting trails that go places you don’t expect. Narnia is just as beautiful in Spring. I have not seen very many Dryads, and those I have seem to be very busy, but the Naiads are very playful just now. A Faun I have met has warned me off swimming with them, though it is not very likely I would have done anyway. He says they don’t mean any harm, but sometimes they don’t know their strength at this time of year and you could get tossed about and sent where you do not mean to go very easily, unless you are a very strong swimmer. The Otters looked like they were having fun, though.
Continue reading to megren, 18 longsun 1017
I hope Narnia is treating you well, and that it is as nice in spring as in autumn, even with the poorer Circumstances, and that your mission is going like you hoped it would. What are the dryads like in spring, and are the nayads all very much bigger and scarier, or just the same? I want to hear all about what you are doing, if you think you are free to write about it. If not, then whatever you feel you can tell. Continue reading from megren, 15 greenroof 1017
Lanisen is packing. There is a rucksack open on a chair half-full of travel supplies and clothing, and he’s wandering around the kennel to see what else he might need, distracted.
Megren comes down the stairs holding up a sachet of tea. “This one?”
Lanisen halts his wandering and blinks at the sachet. “What was it doing up there?” he wonders.
Megren asks, “We brought the whole pot up that one night, with all your teas, remember?”
Continue reading packing up
Lanisen makes his way through the market in the early afternoon. Despite the sunny day, he’s wearing a scarf and a jacket. He’s got bags under his eyes and looks a little pale.
Deonyc walks along the marketplace aside a fellow guardsman, they are both in uniform but greeting people as they meet.
Dalia slips out from the stables, dusting off her dress and brushing a hair behind her ear.
Continue reading concoction
Megren sits at the short table under the window in her quarters. Despite a comfortable spring day, she has her wrap pulled around her. Her knees are pulled up to her chest with her feet on the seat of the chair, and she leans forward against them with her arms tucked between her body and her thighs, only reaching out to turn the pages of the sheafs of parchment that sit on the table.
Lanisen knocks three times on the door.
Megren drops her legs suddenly enough to make a small ‘thud’ and gets up to open it, sticking her face between door and frame. Tiny winds around her legs and whines, then slips out and bolts down the hall.
Continue reading plague party
Lanisen has built up the haybale wall a little again, about halfway, as the day has gone drizzle-damp and chilly. He is curled up in front of the hearth in a heaping nest of blankets and hounds, drinking tea that smells of echinacea and mint, red-nosed and red-eyed and thoroughly miserable.
Megren peeks inside and, seeing the wall rebuilt, circles around it in search of the kennel keeper.
Lanisen calls, before she is in sight, “Meg?” When she comes around the wall he makes flappy banishing arms at her and shakes his head urgently. “Dod cub id! Dod cub id here, you’ll getch it doo!”
Continue reading unsuccessful quarantine
Lanisen has hidden himself away in one of the little studying nooks in the back. His notebook is open on the table in front of him, and a couple of slightly dusty history books are stacked in front of him, currently being used as a pillow. His face is buried in his folded arms and the lamp above his table is burning low.
Megren steps into the library, letting the door shut quietly behind her. She passes through the stacks until she finds one of the dryer sections on royal lineage and reign. She reaches up for a book when she spots Lanisen down at the end of the row. This is more than enough to distract her from her task.
Continue reading a vexation shared
The lowest level of the noble’s tower is a broad, round chamber, fairly dark, but lit by sconces on the walls and a row of small, arching windows high near the ceiling. To the north, three windows look out onto the pastures at ground level, though it is difficult to see much in detail; to the east, a single wider window offers a glimpse of the comings and goings in the inner ward. Wide steps curve up around a pillar in the center of the room, leading up to the servants’ floor, and an archway to the southeast leads down a long, dim corridor toward the kitchen.
Sunk into the ground around the chamber’s central pillar is an enormous reservoir, filled with enough clean, clear water to fill all the bath-tubs in the castle, and then some. In the morning, the sunlight from the east window reflects off the surface of the water and fills the chamber with dancing light.
Lanisen sits cross-legged on the floor with his back to the reservoir wall, well out of the way of any traffic that might come through from the kitchens or tower. He has a map spread out on the floor in front of him in a pool of sunlight, and he is meticulously copying it into a little book. Around him are scattered other books and maps and Jana’s letters.
Megren comes pounding down the steps.
Lanisen lifts his head, looking toward the steps. The sunlight hasn’t progressed far enough yet to glint off the water, but the chamber is filled with a pleasant late-morning glow anyway.
Continue reading plan for every circumstance
Megren knocks on the door.
Lanisen calls, “It’s open!”
Megren slips inside. “Evening!”
Lanisen is just setting out the hounds’ dinner, and it’s accordingly noisy, until all of a sudden it’s not. “Hey,” he says, going to rinse his hands. “How’re you?”
Continue reading come raingiver