breeze picked up, sending sand across the ground and making just enough noise to prevent him hearing what they were saying.
Not long after that the two men made their way back up the slope towards the settlement together. Brett remained behind his boulder, brooding over what he had heard. If things had been different, he might have been at Highkell now. He might have been caught in the collapse of the tower. Or he might have been squire to some knight by now, and safe away from all that. So many ‘might have beens’. Instead, here he was, hiding behind a boulder at Scarrow’s Deep in order to get some hint of what was really going on. Almost sixteen years old and still treated like a child. He’d done everything that was required of him, proved himself responsible in every way he’d been given the opportunity, yet… Surely he was old enough to be told something of the adults’ concerns? And how would he prove himself worthy if he was never given the opportunity?
Maybe it was for him to make his own opportunity.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Lord Convenor Etrus of the Outer Isles gestured to the serving boys to bring him more wine.
“And for our esteemed guest.”
His esteemed guest tilted his head politely. “You are too kind, Lord Convenor.”
Both men were still the safe side of drunk, after several courses of food, several hours of drinking and a few meagre minutes spent discussing the real object of the dignitary’s visit.
Bleaklow, seated further down the table watched in fascination. The Lord Convenor Etrus, of course, was a well-built – if not outright bulky – man and his frame could absorb prodigious amounts of alcohol. But the dignitary from Vasic’s court was best described as skinny, tall with it, to be fair, but he hardly seemed to have the bulk to absorb the half of what he’d put away that day. Bleaklow watched in admiration as the pair of them danced in delicate conversation around the issue at hand. His admiration for his liege lord increased – even though he had not thought such a thing possible in peace time – with every carefully-calculated sentence. And given the matter foremost in both the men’s minds, he could only admire his lord’s forbearance the more. No one looking on could guess at the weighty matters preying on his mind at present.
Bleaklow could only admire the sheer stubbornness of the two engaged in diplomatic wrangling over the table, as they negotiated peace terms in the most roundabout of ways. Long may that peace last: it was imperative that these talks with King Vasic’s representative went well. Vasic had a reputation for being too easily offended and since his reach had extended to include Highkell and all of Highground around it, it behoved Lord Etrus to keep on his good side. Even if it meant offering up his beloved daughter as marriage material.
“I look forward to meeting your daughter, my lord. It is a great disappointment that she is unable to join us this evening, for her looks are already spoken of with great favour in Lynesreach.”
“We are as disappointed as you, Sir Kaith. It is unfortunate she should become indisposed.”
“It is often the way after a large gathering such as your nephew’s recent wedding. People meeting from all corners of the land, after all, bring new illnesses in their wake.”
Did Kaith know? Bleaklow listened intently as his lord calmly deflected the gambit.
“Indeed. We can travel so far, so fast, yet we cannot outstrip contagion. Would you care for more wine, Sir Kaith?”
Sir Kaith accepted graciously. Bleaklow began to suspect he was pouring half of it down his sleeve, but could see no evidence of it. There was even less evidence of Kaith having consumed all that wine in the first place. Was he one of those who drank so much he never sobered up? A strange choice on Vasic’s part to handle such delicate business, if that were the case, for all the man had polished manners and breeding.
“Will I have the opportunity to
Not long after that the two men made their way back up the slope towards the settlement together. Brett remained behind his boulder, brooding over what he had heard. If things had been different, he might have been at Highkell now. He might have been caught in the collapse of the tower. Or he might have been squire to some knight by now, and safe away from all that. So many ‘might have beens’. Instead, here he was, hiding behind a boulder at Scarrow’s Deep in order to get some hint of what was really going on. Almost sixteen years old and still treated like a child. He’d done everything that was required of him, proved himself responsible in every way he’d been given the opportunity, yet… Surely he was old enough to be told something of the adults’ concerns? And how would he prove himself worthy if he was never given the opportunity?
Maybe it was for him to make his own opportunity.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Lord Convenor Etrus of the Outer Isles gestured to the serving boys to bring him more wine.
“And for our esteemed guest.”
His esteemed guest tilted his head politely. “You are too kind, Lord Convenor.”
Both men were still the safe side of drunk, after several courses of food, several hours of drinking and a few meagre minutes spent discussing the real object of the dignitary’s visit.
Bleaklow, seated further down the table watched in fascination. The Lord Convenor Etrus, of course, was a well-built – if not outright bulky – man and his frame could absorb prodigious amounts of alcohol. But the dignitary from Vasic’s court was best described as skinny, tall with it, to be fair, but he hardly seemed to have the bulk to absorb the half of what he’d put away that day. Bleaklow watched in admiration as the pair of them danced in delicate conversation around the issue at hand. His admiration for his liege lord increased – even though he had not thought such a thing possible in peace time – with every carefully-calculated sentence. And given the matter foremost in both the men’s minds, he could only admire his lord’s forbearance the more. No one looking on could guess at the weighty matters preying on his mind at present.
Bleaklow could only admire the sheer stubbornness of the two engaged in diplomatic wrangling over the table, as they negotiated peace terms in the most roundabout of ways. Long may that peace last: it was imperative that these talks with King Vasic’s representative went well. Vasic had a reputation for being too easily offended and since his reach had extended to include Highkell and all of Highground around it, it behoved Lord Etrus to keep on his good side. Even if it meant offering up his beloved daughter as marriage material.
“I look forward to meeting your daughter, my lord. It is a great disappointment that she is unable to join us this evening, for her looks are already spoken of with great favour in Lynesreach.”
“We are as disappointed as you, Sir Kaith. It is unfortunate she should become indisposed.”
“It is often the way after a large gathering such as your nephew’s recent wedding. People meeting from all corners of the land, after all, bring new illnesses in their wake.”
Did Kaith know? Bleaklow listened intently as his lord calmly deflected the gambit.
“Indeed. We can travel so far, so fast, yet we cannot outstrip contagion. Would you care for more wine, Sir Kaith?”
Sir Kaith accepted graciously. Bleaklow began to suspect he was pouring half of it down his sleeve, but could see no evidence of it. There was even less evidence of Kaith having consumed all that wine in the first place. Was he one of those who drank so much he never sobered up? A strange choice on Vasic’s part to handle such delicate business, if that were the case, for all the man had polished manners and breeding.
“Will I have the opportunity to
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