[Envinyatar]

Belin's post

“Was he seen?” asked Farucan, slipping unconsciously into the detached voice he used with customers whose requests were entirely absurd, in the very moment when, were he less disciplined, he would have been shrieking at them as they told him his mad great-uncle had done once, when he had been in power. Farucan had always been of the opinion that the man was no more mad than he was, simply more public. He had never bothered to apply these principles to Berúthiel’s madness, and did not at this moment; the servant was by far a greater concern.

His cousin smiled faintly. “How do I know? He was not captured, and he was not successful. You can hardly expect me to hear what they are saying of it at the palace.”

“I don’t see what good you’re doing me then,” snapped Farucan, dropping his professionalism for a moment and stalking over to the table. “If they blame a lazy merchant, that’s one thing, but if they know we want to kill the heir they’ll hunt us down. They’ll hunt me down. And if they saw that it was a man of Harad…” Farucan stopped suddenly, and shuddered, not wanting to give voice to the ugly possibilities that suddenly crowded his mind. There was no telling what Tarannon might do to find him among the many Haradrim in the city, or how much more bothersome the Gondorians would become, or what the king might do with him if he were forced to return to Umbar under such circumstances. He would have to flee into the wilderness, he was doomed, doomed…

“On the other hand, they did succeed in drowning somebody at the docks,” put in his cousin helpfully. Farucan stared at him.

“Who?”

The man shrugged. “Some lord. You told them to look for a ship from the south. Maybe you should have been more specific.”

Farucan waved this away. “The point is, you’re right. I need to hear what the palace thinks. Thank you for the news.” The other, correctly interpreting this as “goodbye,” took his leave in something less than the formal court style used in Umbar. Dense as he was, thought Farucan, even he seemed worried. This was serious. He walked purposefully through his store, trying to decide how many people he could find that he could both trust and spare. Counting the assistant to the caravanner who regularly brought him news and an exiled farmer he had often spoken with of late, perhaps four or five. It would have to do. With a sigh of annoyance he set out to find someone who could carry the message. Perhaps that irritable young clerk of his would do, though it might be something of an effort convincing the man that, at the moment, he was there to observe and not to act. The next step would have to be considerably more circumspect. Poison? Well, perhaps. Access to the kitchen would be a good idea whether or no.

For now, he stored the idea in a corner of his mind and hurried about his business. If he didn’t finish quickly, he would be late for his meeting with the cats, and he prided himself on punctuality. On the other hand, it was not a meeting he looked forward to.

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alaklondewen’s post

The palace kitchen buzzed with excitement as Habeth maneuvered around the other servants. The Queen was still refusing to leave her room since the night Miaama disappeared, and Habeth was determined to see her eat.

The heavy-set cook stood behind a long counter stirring a sauce when Habeth finally found him after a few minutes of being bumped around. “’ello, Habeth!” The man offered the servant a taste off his wooden spoon. “How’s the Queen treatin’ you?” Before she could reply, he went on. “I bet she’s none too happy about her nephew’s arrival this afternoon.”

Habeth could feel the color drain from her face. “Her nephew’s arrival? This afternoon? Are you sure?” This couldn’t be…he wasn’t due for two more days. Beruthiel would be devastated when she heard this.

“Yes, ma’ame,” he said nodding energetically. “The boy had some trouble too, I hear.”

“What do you mean…what trouble?” Habeth was suddenly sick to her stomach.

“You mean you haven’t heard yet?” The man’s eyes widened with shock and he rubbed his hands vigorously together with excitement. The stocky figure leaned far over the counter and told Habeth everything he’d heard about the boy’s ‘near accident’. What worried Habeth the most was the idea of it not being an accident at all.

“Oh, dear…that poor boy.” The cook shook his head sympathetically and returned to his sauce. “Do you have the Queen’s plate ready?”

The man exclaimed that he’d almost forgot and laughing he walked away only to return moments later with a wide silver platter. He laid it on the counter and uncovered the entrée to reveal a small roasted hen and fresh vegetables. Nodding with approval, Habeth re-covered the dinner and spun on her heels to return to the Queen’s rooms.

[ August 03, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[ August 08, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]