Ah, but she had trusted in the other pretty-faced man, with his gift of wine and sweet words, and look, then — he spread the word, betrayed the trust. He gave the one man notice, and...
And her other beautiful boy, he knows. She has been too long sweet-hearted for him to deny him now, and, requesting the apprentice a fresh song to shroud her words, she shares this much: that man emerged some ten years earlier from the forest, with his sharp eyes and his huntsman's smile, and he knew the words to say, him and his stories. Of course, the ports were opening then, truly welcoming merchants, and the citadel expanded. Word from the east was that other dead lords were rising. Anurr, so long entrenched among the free people despite his ancient rule, planned to show his face once more and strengthen his position, before his subjects forgot him.
When foreigners appeared, of course Tamaiu suspected Anurr's messengers. Who would not? The man was too strong, too curious, too convenient. But for four years, he was among the men of the citadel, and he never crossed a boundary, never spoke a word out of turn. When Unhalad and his people turned up, the man stayed out of their path.
Then, seven years ago, the war of the lords began. And within the year, Anurr and his closest confidants were imprisoned.
The man was six years gone, and now he is returned, and so are Anurr's lieutenants. And there are coincidences in this world, but —
"Beautiful boy, Tamaiu's boy, the flowers of our trade know better than to trust in hazard." And softer still, "Now, you be gone, and you send word carefully and sparingly, because, true, a dead gaze can't see to read, it is known. But you can't trust the living eyes that would do the work."
She will attempt to guide Mingyu back to inspecting the local sweets, thereafter.
no subject
And her other beautiful boy, he knows. She has been too long sweet-hearted for him to deny him now, and, requesting the apprentice a fresh song to shroud her words, she shares this much: that man emerged some ten years earlier from the forest, with his sharp eyes and his huntsman's smile, and he knew the words to say, him and his stories. Of course, the ports were opening then, truly welcoming merchants, and the citadel expanded. Word from the east was that other dead lords were rising. Anurr, so long entrenched among the free people despite his ancient rule, planned to show his face once more and strengthen his position, before his subjects forgot him.
When foreigners appeared, of course Tamaiu suspected Anurr's messengers. Who would not? The man was too strong, too curious, too convenient. But for four years, he was among the men of the citadel, and he never crossed a boundary, never spoke a word out of turn. When Unhalad and his people turned up, the man stayed out of their path.
Then, seven years ago, the war of the lords began. And within the year, Anurr and his closest confidants were imprisoned.
The man was six years gone, and now he is returned, and so are Anurr's lieutenants. And there are coincidences in this world, but —
"Beautiful boy, Tamaiu's boy, the flowers of our trade know better than to trust in hazard." And softer still, "Now, you be gone, and you send word carefully and sparingly, because, true, a dead gaze can't see to read, it is known. But you can't trust the living eyes that would do the work."
She will attempt to guide Mingyu back to inspecting the local sweets, thereafter.