We Solemn Few

Chapter Nineteen : A Storm of Blood

Amber - why had he let that boy give him that name when he could have given his own? - settled himself into a chair of hard oak with a sigh, lifting the cup of still steaming tea to his lips; it felt cold against the natural heat of his mouth and lips, but the taste was something to savor. It was not everyday he got to drink a drink made by Shadastvi and he was not about to pass up the moment. Those eyes of hers however drilled into his soul, the ocean hue they held as cold as ice as they regarded him. She had appeared almost giddy in front of the boy - and the young girl he had saved for that matter; he had not expected such bravery from him - but now she was a statue of still seriousness. A fitting woman for Shadornthide, perhaps the only fit. He just hoped he would not be here. He would make things... complicated.

Freya - he always found it amusing that she was named after a supposed goddess of beauty who was really nothing more than a well regarded lady of a past age - was first to break their silence and if her face was stone, her voice was molten honey, a sweetness so dangerous it could burn even the unblazing, "You have damned a young boy, Therohn? The bound are not to be taken lightly yet you bring a young boy in their midst like a reckless brute lost in the fancies of bed!"

He would have laughed if her eyes weren't so cold upon him. If he didn't know better he'd worry they might wash away the heat that runs within his blood. It did not stop him grinning, though. A brute lost in the fancies of bed? His influence upon her, no doubt, but from the slight twitch of her ears even she still felt some degree of shame from that statement. He would not underestimate her for it, though; shame did not equal weakness. He had learned that lesson the hard way more than once and exploited the view in others just as easily.

"I did not damn the boy, Lady Bellwood," he began, his voice like burning charcoal smothered by rolling magma, "He was bound as assuredly as any other by the time I found him and I am not one who can release that bind." Both true in fact itself; lying would be beyond dangerous with this woman even if she bared every inch of her skin and flushed a red the color of Flame's Gorge itself. Shame beyond shame would not save one from lying, not to her.

With a sigh she settled herself, the ice in her eyes beginning to melt, "I don't care if the gods themself deemed him bound, a boy his age should not..." she sighed again, the ice fading, and seemed to resign herself to the fact of it all, muttering, "No boy should ever be damned."

He did not dare mention where that sentiment came from. Shadornthide, her courted lover, was damned beyond damnation and she yet remained to ease what suffering she could when she could. Shadastvi could only do so much as she was, though. Only so much, yet more than even he knew. Secrets lie underneath most faces who he needed the truth from the most but if there were any to be suspicious of it was hardly Freya. He took another sip of the tea.

"I will protect him to the best of my capabilities," a promise in truth. He would not take risks, not when it was a boy who was bound, "There is another matter to discuss. You know of the Prophecy of Fire?" She gave a simple nod which was expected. Reading was a hobby of hers that filled more time than anything else and with a lifespan such as hers she knew a wealth of knowledge he never would, "It seems the Queen of Flames lives still." From her reaction as he went on, she seemed to entirely trust him, but if the prospect made his finger tap worriedly, her words sent a shiver down his spine. A shiver! He was glad Shadornthide was not present to make him sweat.

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Zenrin was glad for the leather bag the Book Mistress had provided him, partially for how many books he had ultimately ended up with and partially due to the cold rain that poured down from the dark sea of clouds above. With luck the books would be untouched. With luck, anything could happen. Absent-mindedly he wondered what drove Kaufi away, wondering if she was well. She certainly seemed to teeter on the edge of sicking up and screaming. Well, he'd likely never see her again anyways; Amber would have them riding soon despite the kind Freya's protests and the scars upon his body. At least the rain helped combat the heat that flared through his back from time to time.