Peridot’s eyes follow his toward the tent and then go back to the Prince. She bows again. “Thank you, your highness. I want to do my part for their Majesties as well. They have been good to us beasts.”
Cor says, “I’m sure we — I’m sure we all want that.” He takes a breath. “Lord Peridan might be better to talk to.”
Peridan ducks out of the tent, rubbing his forehead for a moment before straightening his shoulders and walking toward the fire where the others are gathered.
Continue reading day 3: over and done
Lanisen’s satchel is leaning up against a stall belonging to a big gray gelding, packed full and tied shut.
Peridan enters the stable, looking still worn. He makes his way to Adair’s stall immediately. “Hey buddy.”
Continue reading hiding out
You stand in a circular tower which serves as a sort of corridor. In the center is a stone pillar, around which stairs are placed, rising to the Nobles’ Quarters above. To the south is the Sewing Room. All around are small tidy rooms, the staff quarters. To the east is the Inner Ward.
Lanisen is locking the door to his room. He tests the knob once, twice, and slips the key on its cord under his collar, where it hangs like a necklace.
Dalia slips out of her room, locking her own door with a soft click and slipping the key into a small pocket.
Continue reading up is down
Lanisen is kneeling by the hearth, sweeping out last night’s ashes. He has to jostle with an interested harrier for elbow room.
Peridan walks into the Kennels. Though his face is calm, there is a weariness that seems to be surrounding him. He goes over to one of the keepers, speaking quietly to him.
Continue reading interview
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 southwest 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.
Colin leads Lord Peridan down the stairs to the reservoir chamber and takes a turn for the dungeon corridor. He glances up slightly and then slows, squinting at one of the windows. He looks at his cousin, confusion on his face. “Is that…”
Peridan coughs, “Yes, that is.”
Colin looks at him. “Wait, you know about it? What happened? How did it break?”
Continue reading half-dropped eaves
Avery says, “Um.” She looks at Peridan and then back to Colin. “I might have one.”
Colin replies, “I’m willing to listen to other ideas. I’ve run out of them.”
Avery hesitates for a moment, lowering her voice.
Avery mumbles “What if … … … …”, to Colin.
Continue reading dismissal
An unfamiliar voice calls up to the loft. “Lanisen? Squire Lanisen, are you there?” There is a note of urgency in the tone.*
Lanisen peers down the steps after a brief pause. “I’m here?” he calls uneasily.
A young man Lanisen might have seen on watch patrols lately looks up. “Squire, you ain’t to eat anything.” He wrings his hands. “I mean, Sir Colin says you ain’t.”
Continue reading barriers
There is a strong and clear voice that drifts up the stairs, “Lanisen, It is Lord Peridan. Can I come up?”
Lanisen is sitting alone on the floor by the window in the north wall, his bad leg stretched out in front of him and his good leg tucked under it. He has a book open on his lap, and is holding a piece of bread away from a hopeful hound. He straightens slightly at the call, surprised, then gets to his feet and goes to the steps to see.
Continue reading catching up
Peridan walks into the stable, adjusting his satchel. The man is dressed in traveling attire.
Lanisen is sitting on an overturned crate outside the stall of the gray gelding that seems to be his particular friend, his back against the stall door, reading.
Continue reading peridan departs
Inner Ward of Anvard
Peridan is walking through the Ward. He seems to be looking for someone.
Lanisen passes through the gatehouse, rumpled and covered in dog hair. He’s still got his stick, but though he still limps, he seems to be relying on it far less.
Continue reading good luck, old chum; good health