Two Cats

Chapter 3

“Milord, I’ve got the most recent of the plans you requested. Where would you like me to put them?”

I looked up at Cyrus, who was holding several rolled up sheets of vellum in his arms. Some were older than others, making the white of the newer ones stand out even more against his black jerkin and black slacks.

The only color my Captain ever seemed to wear was contained in the blue and white Tucat crest on the high left shoulder of his three-quarter cloak, and even that would disappear in a swirl of black if he tossed the front most piece behind his shoulder, a move I'd seen him make whenever he was about to draw his sword.

I gestured with my quill towards a table that I had earlier pulled up beside the couch. It was bare except for the two vimroot candles I had burning there, and the papers and other items that I was concentrating on.

“Be a good man and move those candles first, will you? I'd not want to get any wax on those drawings, after all.”

“Quite, Milord,” he said, putting the floor-plans I'd requested down on the chair beside the couch, freeing his hands so that he could move the candles closer to where I sat.

My attention fell back down upon the piece of parchment before me, and the hastily sketched lines that I had drawn there. I stared at some of the lines and attempted to picture the location they represented.

There was an apologetic clearing of the throat. I looked up.

“Ah, Cyrus, thank you. That will be all,” I said, smiling at him before turning back to the floor plans I labored over.

“Milord,” he nodded, not making any move to leave.

After a few moments I realized that he wanted something. I stopped what I was doing, sighing softly, and rested my quill upon the table. Then, cursing myself for an idiot, I picked it up and put it back properly in the ink well, looking for some sort of handkerchief to clean up the ink I'd just gotten on my table.

I'm prone to get a wee bit careless about things like that when I’m deeply engrossed. In fact, sometimes my staff has to remind me to do things like eat, or sleep.

“Yes? Was there something else?” I asked, carefully wiping ink from the dark wood of the table.

“Yes, Milord. I did have a question that I was hoping to ask you.”

“Well, I suppose that I might be due for a small break,” I said, stretching and rolling my shoulders. “Speaking of ... what time is it?”

“I believe it's just after five bells.”

“Really?” I kept the surprise off my face. “Errr, did I have lunch?”

Cyrus gestured with his head at the empty plate that I had moved onto the stone floor, several crumbs covering its surface.

I believe I already mentioned what happens when I get too focused.

“Ah yes, very good. Well then, ask away.”

“Yes, Milord. Please don't take this amiss, but ... are we preparing to move against Lord Greybridge?”

I stared until I could sense him becoming uncomfortable.

“And how, pray, did you arrive at this notion, Cyrus?”

“Begging Milord’s pardon, but you did send me out earlier to retrieve the most current floor plans for eight Lords about the town. I noticed Lord Greybridge's name on the list, and when I delivered the remaining plans just now I noticed you poring over a drawing of what would appear to be Lord Greybridge's estate.”