Elwanda

Chapter 30 - Behind Deceptive Curtains

The Steward's chambers was packed.

A group of lords and scribes were gathered around his breakfast table; parchments, scrolls, and books scattered before them. They spoke to one another in low tones, often reading and scribbling; filling the atmosphere with sounds of ruffling paper, and the smell of ink. The Steward himself was seated at the head of the table, leaning toward Haladar, who sat at his right hand side.

Elwanda stood far from the affairs table, yet close enough to see everything clearly.

From her vantage point, she could espy all six guards that stood nearest the exit, armed with spears. More were outside, she knew. Why this particular room had been chosen for a final meeting, she did not fully understand.

What she did understand very well was the reason why the royal household had been super busy for the past few days.

Standing there in silence would have made her feel awkward and muchly ignored, except that the Steward often sent long stares in her direction that kept her rooted and reluctant to move an inch.

Her dress was a full gossamer with flailing sleeves, peach coloured and hung low around the shoulders.

That morning, Fylve suggested silver earrings and little makeup to better define her face, pulled her hair back smoothly over her head so that it gushed behind in alluring red curls, and placed cherry sweetener on her lips instead of lipstick.

Having seen her reflection in the mirror for a while, Elwanda felt sure that even she would swoon at the sight of herself if she were a man.

How often the Steward ogled was confirmation that all of Fylve's effort had been worth it.

"How comes your progress, Lord Bennett?" He suddenly spoke up, removing his gaze from Haladar.

The addressed, Bennett, stirred from the parchment he had been gleaning for hours. He was the oldest of the group, wearing a pince-nez that looked about as old as he was. Oddly though, he could still stand up straight.

"My Lord, the records here are accurate and correspondent to one another." He spoke slowly. "Our last hope lies with the dispatched riders that paid visit to the coast of Camrayn two days ago to gather information there." He looked about for support. "They are expected to arrive today."

"They did arrive, Lord Bennett, about half an hour ago." A different Lord lazily offered.

"And what news?" For the umpteenth time, the Steward's eyes trailed and met Elwanda's, then removed just as quickly.

She could sense that, without a doubt, he was distracted.

This time, another familiar scribe gave an answer. "No living being there today remembered Maralah, save for one. A very old man with dented memory. He, however, claimed to remember her young son, and he released a token to us, given to him by the boy's own hand before his final departure out of Camrayn."

The Steward straightened. "What kind of token?"

From his corner, the scribe at the end of table provided a tied pouch of scraggly fabric and presented it.

"The wrap has not been tampered with since it was first received." The same scribe explained. "We thought it best you unravel the token personally, my Lord."

Passing from one hand to another, the pouch got to the Steward.

Watching him loosen the drawstring, Elwanda suddenly felt an urge to approach. When he upturned the bag, a necklace of rope fell into his open hand. By then, she was standing by his side and gasped at the sight of the object. It was the necklace from her vision; the same one Maralah had taken from her husband's dead body and put around Thorbern's neck.