That he was simply being allowed to imagine that he had been set free, when it was all in reality just a cruel jest.
But at least they had managed some introductions. Mara was a dark haired woman who struck him as being both plain spoken and demure, but also sharp of eye and suspicious. She watched the two of them closely, studying them while pretending otherwise. And though she probably wouldn't admit it, he recognised her family name of Perrin as one coming from Farring Cross. The family were known for the quality of the wines they produced, and though they weren't nobility as far as he knew, they were very affluent.
Kyriel was the Tenarri they had encountered earlier. She wasn’t one to chatter and always kept her hand near the hilt of her suddenly acquired blade. She stood ready for whatever might come. But that was the way of her people. They always stood ready, whether for war or a duel to the death. There was a reason that they were known as warriors and feared as such. Though he could think of no reason why one should be with the hamadryad.
Nor could he think why she claimed to belong to no house when he asked. She was obviously of noble blood. Why did she not claim her house? But he would not pry he decided. Especially not this close to the temple of Tyrel.
“There's a cloak in the trunk.” Edouard mentioned it to Marcus once the carriage came into view, and then tried not to laugh as he watched his brother take off running for the garment, bare cheeks bouncing in the wind. He didn't completely succeed.
“What is this thing? Where are the horses?”
Of course his guests were less amused by his brother's nakedness, and somewhat more concerned by the sight of the horseless carriage. He could understand that. Though there were a few of them around in the large cities, they weren't a common sight, mostly because it took a lot of craftsmanship to build one.
“It's a horseless carriage. It pulls itself along the roads.”
“It pulls itself? You jest!”
Kyriel seemed torn between disbelief and anger, as if he was making fun of her. He wouldn't dare. Even if she wasn't a handmaiden of Tyrel, she was Tenarri, and she had a blade at her side. She'd picked it up in the temple before coming with them. He wasn't sure why or even where it had been stored. He could see no buildings on the grounds. But he was sure that he didn't want to offend her while she carried a sword. The skills of her people with a blade were legendary. Besides, he would never insult a lady and, whether she was of noble birth or not, she was a handmaiden of Tyrel, a priestess. That demanded respect. Especially anywhere near Tyrel's temple.
“Not at all my Lady. The barrel on the back of the wagon is filled with water, which is heated by the fire underneath. The hot water produces steam, and the steam is trapped and used to turn a flywheel. The flywheel then turns the back wheels and the carriage moves.”
“An iron horse without tracks.”
Of course she came from an advanced land, and would have seen the mighty iron wagons travelling back and forth between the cities of Tenarri. She might even have ridden on them. One day he hoped to do the same though it would never be in Therion.
“Exactly my Lady.”
“And you built this?” She turned to him, surprised.
“Yes my Lady.” He nodded to her, pleased by what he hoped was a hint of respect in her tone. His skills as an arcanist were well practised. After all, a third son had to have something to do with his time while he wasn't inheriting or being involved in the family business and that was his passion.
Many of his friends had turned to carousing and wenching as their days of enforced idleness grew long. He had done the same for a while – until his father had pointed out the error of his ways. It had been a mistake for all of them. Naturally his friends' fathers had quickly insisted that they either enlist in the army
But at least they had managed some introductions. Mara was a dark haired woman who struck him as being both plain spoken and demure, but also sharp of eye and suspicious. She watched the two of them closely, studying them while pretending otherwise. And though she probably wouldn't admit it, he recognised her family name of Perrin as one coming from Farring Cross. The family were known for the quality of the wines they produced, and though they weren't nobility as far as he knew, they were very affluent.
Kyriel was the Tenarri they had encountered earlier. She wasn’t one to chatter and always kept her hand near the hilt of her suddenly acquired blade. She stood ready for whatever might come. But that was the way of her people. They always stood ready, whether for war or a duel to the death. There was a reason that they were known as warriors and feared as such. Though he could think of no reason why one should be with the hamadryad.
Nor could he think why she claimed to belong to no house when he asked. She was obviously of noble blood. Why did she not claim her house? But he would not pry he decided. Especially not this close to the temple of Tyrel.
“There's a cloak in the trunk.” Edouard mentioned it to Marcus once the carriage came into view, and then tried not to laugh as he watched his brother take off running for the garment, bare cheeks bouncing in the wind. He didn't completely succeed.
“What is this thing? Where are the horses?”
Of course his guests were less amused by his brother's nakedness, and somewhat more concerned by the sight of the horseless carriage. He could understand that. Though there were a few of them around in the large cities, they weren't a common sight, mostly because it took a lot of craftsmanship to build one.
“It's a horseless carriage. It pulls itself along the roads.”
“It pulls itself? You jest!”
Kyriel seemed torn between disbelief and anger, as if he was making fun of her. He wouldn't dare. Even if she wasn't a handmaiden of Tyrel, she was Tenarri, and she had a blade at her side. She'd picked it up in the temple before coming with them. He wasn't sure why or even where it had been stored. He could see no buildings on the grounds. But he was sure that he didn't want to offend her while she carried a sword. The skills of her people with a blade were legendary. Besides, he would never insult a lady and, whether she was of noble birth or not, she was a handmaiden of Tyrel, a priestess. That demanded respect. Especially anywhere near Tyrel's temple.
“Not at all my Lady. The barrel on the back of the wagon is filled with water, which is heated by the fire underneath. The hot water produces steam, and the steam is trapped and used to turn a flywheel. The flywheel then turns the back wheels and the carriage moves.”
“An iron horse without tracks.”
Of course she came from an advanced land, and would have seen the mighty iron wagons travelling back and forth between the cities of Tenarri. She might even have ridden on them. One day he hoped to do the same though it would never be in Therion.
“Exactly my Lady.”
“And you built this?” She turned to him, surprised.
“Yes my Lady.” He nodded to her, pleased by what he hoped was a hint of respect in her tone. His skills as an arcanist were well practised. After all, a third son had to have something to do with his time while he wasn't inheriting or being involved in the family business and that was his passion.
Many of his friends had turned to carousing and wenching as their days of enforced idleness grew long. He had done the same for a while – until his father had pointed out the error of his ways. It had been a mistake for all of them. Naturally his friends' fathers had quickly insisted that they either enlist in the army