The Ruins of Gorlan- Character Reaction

3

"Can I read?" Jenny asked. Gilan nodded and handed the book to her. She scanned the first few words before beginning.

"Who's next then?" Martin was calling–They all groaned at the secretary's name–as Horace, grinning broadly, stepped back into the line. Alyss stepped towards gracefully, annoying Martin, who had wanted to nominate her as the next candidate.

Halt grinned. "If I'd known you annoyed him, I would have liked you from the start."

"Alyss Mainwaring, my lord," she said in her quiet, level voice. Then, before she could be asked, she continued, "I request an appointment to the Diplomatic Service, please, my lord."

"I think Alyss is the only one who managed to keep her wits about her," Horace pointed out. Will and Jenny nodded agreement, the cook blushing slightly as she remembered her own gaffe.

Arald smiled at the solemn-looking girl. She had an air of self-confidence and poise about her that would suit her well in the Service. He glanced at Lady Pauline.

"My lady?" he said.

She nodded her head several times. "I've already spoken to Alyss, my lord. I believe she will be an excellent candidate. Approved and accepted."

Alyss made a small bow of her head in the direction of the woman who would be her mentor. Will thought how alike they were—both tall and elegant in their movements, both grave in manner. He felt a small surge of pleasure for his oldest companion–Alyss smiled at him gratefully–knowing how much she had wanted this selection. Alyss stepped back in line and Martin, not to be forestalled this time, was already pointing to George.

"Right! You're next! You're next! Address the Baron."

George stepped forward. His mouth opened and closed several times, but nothing came out.

Duncan raised an eyebrow. "From what I gathered, he seemed a talkative fellow."

Arald shrugged. "Stage fright. I don't blame him."

The other wards watched in surprise. George, long regarded by them all as the official advocate for just about everything, was overcome with stage fright. He finally managed to say something in a low voice that nobody in the room could hear. Baron Arald leaned forward, one hand cupped behind his ear.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite get that," he said.

George looked up at the Baron and, with an enormous effort, spoke in a just-audible voice."G-George Carter, sir. Scribeschool, sir."

Martin, ever a stickler for the proprieties, drew breath to berate him for the truncated nature of his address.

Halt snorted. He knew he would never get along with the secretary. After all, with Ferris, he had left with a rather large amount of disgust for protocol and royal blood.

Before he could do so, and to everyone's evident relief, Baron Arald stepped in.

"Very well, Martin. Let it go." Martin looked a little aggrieved, but subsided. The Baron glanced at Nigel, his chief scribe and legal officer, one eyebrow raised in question.

"Acceptable, my lord," he said, adding,"I've seen some of George's work and he really does have a gift for calligraphy." The former wardmates nodded, apparently approving of the Scribemaster's words.

The Baron looked doubtful."He's not the most forceful of speakers, though, is he–Will snorted. It had to be the farthest from the truth he'd ever heard anyone say–Scribemaster? That could be a problem if he has to offer legal counsel at any time in the future."