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Old 01-26-2004, 07:10 PM   #79
Child of the 7th Age
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Sting

Ráma

By the time Ráma arrived back at the Cat's Paw, the front door of the Inn had already been locked and barricaded for the night. Despite Falasmir's assurances to the citizenry that all was well in Umbar, the streets of the city were still full of danger. It was not unusual for the proprietor of a respectable establishment to bolt his doors at night and reopen them only in the morning.

Leading Kyelek towards the stables where a welcoming lantern still glowed in the window, Ráma placed him inside an empty stall and tipped the man in charge, a burly fellow with arms almost the size of barrels who agreed to keep an eye on the horse until her return. Tonight she planned to meet with Thorn, and ride out of Umbar early the next day, either with Thorn or by herself, returning to her mother and clan.

As she walked down the path that swung around to the back of the Inn, the events of the day continued to weigh heavily upon her mind: Wyrma's presence at the palace and the uneasiness she'd sensed among those attending the reception, a palpable fear that was carefully hidden behind masks of diplomacy and pretensions of trade. Nor did she know what to make of the captain from Gondor who claimed to be close with one of her maenwaith sisters. Mithadan had not said where or when he'd met his friend, but Ráma did not know any of her kin who would voluntarily journey to distant lands, certainly not to places in the far north.

Yet even beyond Wyrma's threat and Mithadan's puzzling words, there was something she found more personally painful. Try as she might, she could not erase the memory of her conversation with Thorn. Rama had known Thorn since she'd been a child; he had watched the twins grow up, almost like the big brother that the two girls had never had. If Ayar had her way, Thorn would become leader of the Eagles when the older woman chose to retreat to private life or journeyed beyond this world to join her ancestors. Sometimes Ráma wondered why Ayar had not brought either of her daughters before the council as possible leaders of the clan. Despite their youth, such future promises were not unheard of. At heart, though, Ráma trusted in her mother's judgement and would accept whatever she said. Still, the girl had reasoned that, at some point in the future, she would stand beside Thorn as his wife, and the two of them would jointly provide for their clan. She had pondered this enticing image so long that she had failed to notice how Thorn's eyes often strayed to her gentle twin Narika whose gift of story and song rivalled even that of Ayar's.

Now there could be no more pretending. Thorn had made his preference clear, probably speaking first to her mother, who had gently suggested he let Ráma hear the news directly from his mouth. Soon the young couple would have their wrists bound together in front of the clan and there would be a great celebration and feast in their honor. And when that happens, Ráma promised, I will be the first to offer the couple whatever support and protection I can give.

Leaving the stables and heading to the rear of the Inn, she pounded on the heavy wooden door, the entrance used during the day for wagons making deliveries to the kitchen. As she had hoped, the massive gate creeked back an inch or two and familiar eyes peered out through the crack. A large woman with tight black curls and skin as dark and rich as mahogony greeted her with a hug. There were few in Umbar whom Ráma trusted, even among her own folk. Too many of her kin had been seduced into giving up their freedom in exchange for empty promises. And, despite her conversation with Mithadan, Ráma had always made a point to avoid outsiders as much as possible.

With Lena, it was different. The woman had come from a tribe of free desertdwellers and had criss crossed the great sands many times, going further to the east and south than even her own clan had journeyed. When Lena's husband and children had been killed during the troubles of some thirteen years before, the woman had reluctantly agreed to settle within Umbar, purchasing the Cat's Paw and acting as its Innkeeper.

Lena was no Skinchanger but Ráma would trust her with her life. They had never spoken of it, but the older woman had once seen Thorn change from a sand rat into his human form. Lena had quietly accepted what had happened and made no fuss about it, keeping the secret to herself, for which Ráma was extremely grateful. Releasing the girl from her arms, Lena looked Ráma up and down, afterwards shaking her head in disapproval and prodding, "What has happened? You look as if you had swallowed a prickly cactus."

"Things are no better at the palace. In fact, worse! Falasmir has taken on a new advisor.....and she does not look to be any improvement over what was there before. And these traders from Gondor are too trusting. I fear they will end up with their throats cut in a ditch unless they are more careful."

Lena looked over at her friend and laughed, "Since when does a desert dweller care what happens to one of the strangers from over the sea?" The older woman continued in a teasing manner, " This one must have a face of extraordinary beauty for you to be so concerned."

"No, he is old," Rama responded without a trace of humor. "He has a wife and three babes of his own, and they please him well. But at least he appears to be a gentleman which is more than I can say of many others in that palace."

"Then I hope his fortunes fare better than you fear." Lena pushed her hand into the pocket of her skirt, and latched onto a small envelope, handing it over to the girl. "This came for you early this evening, after you'd already left. One of the messengers from the palace...."

Ráma thanked her and tucked it inside her belt, explaining that she would be leaving in the morning. She drew out her purse and offered to pay. "There is no charge," Lena quickly countered. "The horse you gave me your last visit will earn you a stay here whenever you need it." Then she looked hard at Ráma and lowered her voice, "I think there is something you are not telling me. But in this city, it is sometimes safer not to know. Please, be careful. And if you ever need help, I am here." With that, the two women parted, and Ráma withdrew to her chamber, unfolding Thorn's note on the table in front of her and reading:

My dear sister-to-be,

Something has come to my attention today which I feel impelled to share with you. For I fear that Falasmir's blind ambitions are about to destroy the fragile peace that exists in this city, and I do not wish to see you in the middle of it. To put it bluntly, Falasmir has stationed two Corsair warships next to the Lonely Star, a vessel from Gondor that stands berthed in our harbor. His intentions are to seize the ship within two days' time as well as all its men, selling the crew and its captain Mithadan into slavery.

While these strangers personally mean little to me, I pity them such a fate. More importantly, when you receive this letter, you must flee immediately for I do not know what further actions, if any, are planned. Do not speak of this thing to anyone, but ride out on your own as quickly as you can. Who knows what else Falasmir has in mind, especially with Wyrma now beside him? I pray that these troubles remain within the walls of this accursed city.

I will meet with you again late tonight. For now, I am off to do a bit of exploration in the palace.

Till later,

Thorn


Ráma flung down the letter on the table, her mind whirling in confusion. Without understanding or knowing what he was doing, Mithadan had approached her under one of the clan's most sacred obligations, that of offering friendship and shelter to those few who have been like a family member to one of the maenwaith. Yet Thorn had ordered her to flee on her own. How could she ignore either command? The girl sat hunched at the table, her head clutched in open hands, as she desperately tried to reason out what tradition demanded of her. She kept gazing out the window and down again at the floorboard hoping to see a small rat or bird made its way into her chamber. But an hour passed, and then two, and there was still no visit from her kinsman.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 10:27 AM January 27, 2004: Message edited by: Mithadan ]</font>

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 9:25 PM January 27, 2004: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]
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