[Child of the 7th Age]

sophia's post

Síriel leaned against the wall as the darkness began to grow heavier in the street where she waited. Where was Thenidir? What was keeping him? She shivered, Denethor’s masquerade would be in full swing by now and she was missing it. Shrinking closer to the wall Síriel dodged out of the way of a passing man. The streets were suddenly foreign to her, filled with rushing strangers, more dirty and ragged than the daytime shoppers.

A large man jostled her with his elbow and Síriel gasped as her head hit the stone wall of the building behind her. Without stopping to apologize, he hurried off through the alleys. What was she doing here? She, a lady, daughter of the Ruling Steward, here in a dark street in the evening? Thenidir should never have brought her here. A smile played across Síriel’s lips as she thought of how she would make him sorry… the handsome Thenidir, begging for mercy from Lady Síriel. How delicious.

Síriel’s delightful vision of teasing Thenidir dissolved suddenly with the mention of her father’s name. She jerked her head upright, scanning the knots of hurrying people in the street. Of course, anyone could have mentioned Eckthelion in the square, but what if it were someone she knew? She moved cautiously a little further into the dark street.

Two dark figures stood there, whispering together. Síriel froze, a chill running down her spine. What if they were plotting against her father… she slunk closer to the wall, listening hard. “The couriers… new messages…” Síriel thought the voice was male, but she couldn’t tell. A scrap of paper passed between the speaker and the second figure. The second figure nodded, its hood pulled well over its face, hiding the eyes. Síriel crept a little closer.

“Unsuspecting… as soon as you get them… will be pleased.” A stone clattered across the stone pavement, causing all three to glance up, startled. Síriel caught a glimpse of a pale face inside one of the shadowy figure’s hoods before they turned away and disappeared into the street.

Thenidir’s hand came down hard on her shoulder, and Síriel jumped and spun around. Stifling a cry she faked a lighthearted laugh. “Oh, Thenidir… is the carriage ready?” He gestured to the waiting coach just up the street, the horses stamping impatiently and the driver watching her with an amused look on his coarse face. “Yes, we should go now.” She smiled up at him, pushing him gently toward the carriage with one hand. Something was gleaming in the lamplight where the two whisperers had stood, and Síriel bent and snatched it up as soon as Thenidir’s back was turned.

Inside the carriage, Síriel listened to Thenidir’s apology halfheartedly, quite without the enjoyment she had earlier anticipated. She was staring at her lap, where a broken cord with a bit of wax seal still clinging to it nestled. The seal was almost certainly her father’s, though it was torn almost beyond recognition. Her heart pounded, what could all this mean? She had to get back and talk to her father immediately. Turning to Thenidir she asked, “can’t the driver go any faster?” Thenidir looked at her oddly, leaning forward to whisper to the driver through the curtains.
“You do hate to miss a party, don’t you?” he asked, with a wink.

“Oh yes,” Síriel said, “it would be a shame to get there too late…”
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[ September 02, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]