The Book of Terrus: The Wise and Powerful

Chapter 7 - Thunder

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The rain fell in a steady beat, muted into a dull rumble on the cottage rooftop. Rivulets of clean, clear water trickled along the wooden eves into barrels waiting below. The moss on the mountainside grew fat and green with moisture; a slick wet blanket for the rocks beneath. If a person were to stand on the plains to the east, The Teeth would appear veiled in thick, swirling rainclouds that shifted from apprehensive grey to near black. It wasn't often that the mountains saw rain this far past midsummer, but it wasn't unwelcome either.

Not even mountain-born shepherds dared chance the upper reaches of The Teeth when the rain slicked them down. When Lhara, Tarun and Marden woke that morning to the cadence of raindrops overheard they knew without rising that they would not be taking the flock out today. By unspoken agreement breakfast was an unhurried affair. The three siblings cooked a pot of porridge while still in their sleeping clothes, lounging around and talking about nothing in particular while the water boiled. Tarun even pulled out one of his books while they waited; normally an activity reserved for evenings. Lhara's hands kept wandering toward the nape of her neck where Magda had inked the the night before during her Dedication ceremony. A pointed look from Marden kept her fingers from actually finding the tender skin though.

All was calm until Marden saw fit to open his big mouth, in Tarun's long-suffering opinion. Still, admittedly he was curious about the events of last night too.

"How long will they be staying for?" Lhara was already asking questions the moment Marden finished retelling of the Factionists' arrival.

Marden shrugged. "They only paid for the one night that I saw. Rooming fifty people much longer than that will probably run a higher tab than even they can pay."

"And you say they were dressed like clansfolk?"

"Bucklers, belts and everything," Tarun said as he helped to clear the table. He brought the bowls to Lhara where she stood over the wash basin, already at work on the pot from the hearth. The rain had given her thick hair extra life; it floated around her head and down her back like fluffy brown spinning wool. "I thought I saw riders from the N'Shars and S'Dirs at least, and I'm guessing a few from the A'Khet clan as well."

Lhara frowned thoughtfully, that familiar spark of excitement shining bright in her eye despite the dim, stormy daylight filtering through the shuttered cottage windows.

"Town must be in an uproar with so many strangers about," she commented.

"Must be," Marden agreed.

They tidied up the breakfast in silence, each listening to the rain outside and their own curious thoughts. Lhara retreated to her room to dress and tame her hair, and emerged still with that hungry look to her face. She noticed smugly that both Tarun and Marden had also dressed in warm, layered clothes better suited for a trek outdoors than a quiet day in.

"I should probably see about fixing that split corner on the loom." Marden made a move toward the corner where the loom sat, but his shuffling steps lacked any serious conviction.

Lhara likewise drifted toward the rocking chair and the bulging whicker basket set next to it. "All of our stockings and hose could use mending too..."

Tarun rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't dance around it. Lhara, you'll be out the door by mid-morning. Marden, you'll be hard on her heels and I'll be dragged along between the two of you. Come on; let's get our cloaks and go ogle the Factionists."