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Lithor
“How do I feel?” Lithor asked in return. “Why, like any man in this position would feel.” He eyed two men passing by before he leaned closer to Thornden and replied in a voice barely above a whisper. “I feel like a goose waiting to be led to the chop. I do not feel as chipper as I sound, but do not tell anyone that. I will laugh with any punishment Athanar gives me.”
His eyes saddened, but only for a moment. He would not be gloomy as he had promised. Thornden, however, was very grave. There were obviously more matters pressing on his mind. Athanar will rely heavily on him today to complete the transition.
“I see that you have found yourself in good favor with Wynflaed.” Lithor said with a pleasure in his eyes. “That is good. She seems honest and good, though I do not know how such a noble lady could have raised such…” Lithor thought for a proper word. “Such ‘misbehaving’ sons.” He smiled broadly.
“By the way, are we still searching for the person who hit the lord’s daughter? I pity the person, though I think that those two young men suspected me of it (cannot wait to find out what their names are).”
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