Embers

Chapter Seven - The Stronger the Hammer

The spring morning was unusually warm, the heat filling Nasuada's private rooms and discouraging any rigorous activity like walking or standing. The queen was sitting in her divan with a scroll in her lap, but her eyes did not see the words on the parchment. Her head was filled with the burning questions that had only recently arisen.

Out on the balcony, curled up on the thick railing, Vauliir Mangleheart slept. Or at least appeared to be sleeping. The werecat had taken to following Nasuada around the castle in his cat form, and though it wasn't necessarily a hindrance, it was most certainly an annoyance. There was no doubt in the queen's mind that Mangleheart was there to watch her, learn about her, and though the feeling wasn't new, neither was it welcome.

Nasuada regarded the furry form for a moment, wondering what the werecat had thought of her exchange with Orrin a few days ago. It had been impossible to tell, but she thought, or rather hoped, that she had impressed him and proven her right to wear the crown. As Orrin had said, she wasn't a child, and that was the first thing she wanted this new werecat to know about her.

Just when she had returned her gaze to the parchment in her lap, there was a pounding of the spear hafts outside her door. One of the Nighthawks stuck his head into the room and announced the arrival of a messenger returned from Palancar Valley.

Nasuada got to her feet, carefully so as to avoid alerting Vauliir to her extreme interest in what the messenger had to say.

She needn't have bothered with her discretion, for the werecat had gotten to his feet and padded into the room at the guard's words. He sat in the shadows of the room, watching with sharp eyes as Nasuada called for the messenger to enter.

He was a young man, old enough to travel so far and young enough to do so quickly. Joshua, his name was. He entered the room and bowed deeply to Nasuada before she bid him to rise and deliver his message.

"My queen," he began dutifully. "You sent me to Palancar Valley and the city of Carvahall to ask after one Roran Stronghammer. I traveled as you had asked and when I arrived at the town, the people were rebuilding after some devastation they claimed happened when they left for the Varden. I asked to speak with Roran Stronghammer, and they told me that they had not seen him since he left for Tronjheim with Queen Arya and her dragon. From there, I traveled south on my way to return to you, and I stopped at Therinsford to once again ask after Roran Stronghammer. No one there had seen him as well. M'lady," Joshua finished, "Roran did not return to Palancar Valley after he left Ellesméra."

Nasuada carefully controlled her breathing, which was a feat in itself, for a great wave of anxiety rolled through her. If Roran was not in Ellesméra, and not in Palancar Valley, then where else could he be? The Empire was large, but he had never shown any urge to set foot anywhere other than back in his home in Carvahall.

The queen lifted her chin and dismissed the messenger before thinking hard on what to do next. She had refused to believe that Roran would be in Surda, stirring up trouble for Orrin. It seemed an incredibly foolish thing for him to do, especially with his wife and daughter in tow.

"Have you ever heard the expression," came a sly and rumbling voice from the shadows, "'The stronger the hammer, the harder the blow?'"

Nasuada turned to look at Vauliir as he sauntered towards her, once more in his human figure. She resisted the urge to lift her lip at the disdain in his voice, and kept her expression neutral.

"I have not, though there was one about curiosity I think you'd be interested in," she replied coolly.

The werecat chuckled.

"An old friend of mine once told me that what we don't know is often what gets us killed. Curiosity can save one's life if used in the right way." Mangleheart stared up at Nasuada, his azure eyes disarmingly bright.