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Within the courtyard, Rollan and Amdir--the former explaining to the latter, as briefly and as best he could, what had transpired thus far--had gotten the stage back open, to yield a little more space to the usually cramped waggon. There were now a few chairs, stools, and other props scattered there, and in one of them was seated Brinn, her dress smart and her hair neatly pinned up. There was a very thin smile on her face, which not even the best efforts of her husband had managed to broaden. Asta was there as well, and Sereth, both of whom Brinn had sternly warned not to overreact to anything, and Aldarion as well, who had this peculiar look on his face, as if he were trying and utterly failing to keep a smile from it at all times. She hoped it was for their good, too.
After too long a wait, the Lord Cirdacil rode into the courtyard. "Pardon me for not rising, my lord," said Brinn. "I am unable at this time. Will you please take a seat, and tell us what it is you have come here to say?"
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