[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Kâthaanî was nervous and tired. Her frantic ride had taken barely more than three days. She had slept little, her hair and clothes were caked with dust, and her muscles were sore. She had changed mounts frequently, to save their strength as much as possible, but still on the third day they had slowed. She also had slowed, until Marsillion met her outside the city. Mounted once more on Nitirú with Marsillion riding Mani, the two of them pounded homeward.

Now she nodded to Marsillion as she gave him Nitirú's reins; he was still mounted on Mani, having left his mare to find her own way home. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and briefly rested a hand on her shoulder before swinging down and leading the sweating Kariborim toward the stables and a hard earned rest. "I will talk to Mother." Kâthaanî called back over her shoulder, already setting a brisk pace for the house. Her head was swimming with the intricacy of this problem. The fact that her father had been taken was desperate enough, but together with the brief time left before their departure... rescue seemed nearly impossible.

As she neared the room where Inzillomí often spent her mornings, Kâthaanî ran a hand over her matted hair, dragging her fingers through it in attempt to force it into some kind of order. Pushing the doors to her mother's sitting room open, she found her mother at the table with a small sampler in one hand and a needle in the other. Only the smallest tremors in her fingers and the lines around her mouth gave away Inzillomí's nervousness. For a few seconds Kâthaanî simply stood in the doorway her hands at her sides, fingering the edges of her sleeves; then she rushed forward unable to keep calm any longer.

"Mother, they've taken him away... the King's guards, they arrested him and they took Lômi too. And Tiru's gone to meet Azarmanô already, and it's time... it's time. But they took Father. By now he's in Armenelos... and the ships... and I rode..." she dissolved into tears. Kâthaanî stiffened momentarily as she felt her mother drop down beside her and put her arms around her shoulders. She had long considered herself too adult for coddling, but she soon relaxed and her hysteria passed. She breathed in deeply and looked up at Inzillomí. Her mother's face was pale and her eyes ringed with shadows, but she was calm and composed. Kâthaanî quickly composed herself and stood up.

"The treasure you carried, is it safe?" Inzillomí asked quietly, sliding back into her chair and picking up her embroidery. Kâthaanî nodded. She'd checked the moment she'd remembered; her mother's palantir, the precious seeing-stone and heirloom of Elendil's house was still safely in Khibil's saddlebags where it had been through their whole journey.

"We must send men to find him." Kâthaanî whispered. "We cannot leave him behind."

"No, we cannot. Perhaps my son, Nimilroth, could go?" a voice said from the doorway. Ziraphel, Abârpânarú's sister, walked into the room. Neither mother or daughter had heard her approach. She looked at them appraisingly. "Inzillomí, was that Gimilnar I just saw? A King's guardsman here can mean nothing good." Kâthaanî's eyes widened as she and her aunt listened to Inzillomí's news. It seemed that things were going to become more complicated still.