[Novnarwen]

“Father?”

The priest turned around, being surprised by seeing the kind and innocent face of the young Pelin.

“I saw the elf leave..” Pelin continued being uncertain.

Tarkan, who had almost forgotten about his ‘dear friend’ after the interesting conversation with the elf, begged him come in. Pelin obeyed. This was not an ideal situation he found himself in. He would much rather be alone at this point, thinking it all through, especially taking the last bit of the conversation into careful consideration. He cursed under his breath. Was his brother doing it on purpose? Was the King not going to invite him to meet the Emissary? Would he, Tarkan, have to take things into his own hand?! It was outrageous; a Priest with his position, being the King's half brother, should have been invited to meet the Emissary when he came. Not a day or two later! He wanted to know who this so-called guest was! If Arlomë knew the Emissary enough to speak of him with Zamara, he was being ridiculed. He managed to restrain himself, seeing that Pelin looked at him, as if penetrating his mind to see what he was thinking. Tarkan ignored him for a moment, letting his thoughts float and touch the matter that concerned the High Priestess.

If Zamara had a bad influence on Evrathol’s mother, Arlomë, it would surely be a good reason to investigate her. Did the High Priestess use her position to influence people in a wrong manner? Would this be good enough reason to have her followed and watched by the authorities? Surely, if a woman like herself was taking advantage of people through her profession, it would not be supported by . . . anyone!?! With this rather calming resolution, which he intended, and was already very eager, to pursue, he remembered the Queen. She had invited Zamara and himself to the Palace to discuss matters concerning furniture in the Temple. The previous evening he had not accepted the invitation; most humbly, he had declined. Now, to his annoyance, he regretted. He thought for a moment, feeling an even stronger need to be alone, to think and come to a conclusion that would be to his satisfaction, but furthermore to act on what he already knew. He wanted to see Zamara; he wanted plan how he would present it to his brother and meet him, the King.

“I’m truly sorry, Pelin,” Tarkan said suddenly and rose from the comfortable divan. “I just remembered that I have an appointment with the Queen. Oh, I am terribly sorry,” he said, looking at the man as if he was devastated of leaving him. “Oh, that reminds me.. The High Priestess will also be there, so that leaves you in charge here.” Pelin looked surprised, but didn’t say anything. “It is needless to think that that will be any problem, am I correct?” the Priest said, smiling. “Now, off I go. Cheers!”

With stern steps he walked left the little room where they had eaten breakfast, grabbing his mantle on his way. Knowing that he would probably be quite late, he hurried out of the Temple extremely excited about what this would bring. Would they be surprised by him showing up? Was it rude first to decline and then to come after all? It did not matter, he concluded. The Queen and Zamara were welcome to think ill of him if they were comfortable with that; he did not care, as long as it would be his victory in the end, which seemed quite probable now as things had developed as they had.