( Read more... )

Three months or so have passed since Ewar was first given responsibility for the 'children', as Martel refers to them; if Ewar were to recount the conversation, he'd probably judiciously edit what was actually said to him ('make sure the children don't do anything miserably stupid while my back is turned') out of both tactfulness and loyalty ( Read more... )

The road to recovery is fraught with perils mostly the result of the man doing the recovering being a lousy patient. 'Uncooperative' is a kind word for his irritable attitude, and one can only assume that either the attending physician is being promised vast sums of money or a masochist. A distant third is the possibility of being just precisely ( Read more... )

After the initial time spent drifting in and out of consciousness as the antidote began moving through his blood-stream, Martel spends a lot of time sincerely wishing he was still in that state over constantly bursting the stitches in his back when he's messily ill into the tin bucket by the bed. Nitral's personal physician stays with him through ( Read more... )

Just as he told his wife, Martel has no intention of going into battle - if it should become necessary, he's willing, but the Arums have an able commander already. He serves another purpose, and even if chafes at him to be cloistered in the ducal palace playing at diplomat when he could be on a horse with a sword drawn- that's not what he's there ( Read more... )

Winter is a miserable time to go to war - in particular due to winter being a miserable time to tramp down from the mountains - but the frost should have broken at least by the time they're passing Maghu, and between then and now Martel ought to have plenty of time to regret agreeing to this. It's a profitable thing, though, and God knows it's ( Read more... )

Several weeks ago.

For some time now, Martel's been steadfastly ignoring the knowledge wallowing in the back of his mind, and as much as he knows he can't continue ignoring it forever he'd really like to try. Relegated to the same place as 'Sparhawk used the word reconcile without spitting on it', his understanding of what he's been told lies not ( Read more... )

One of Martel's worst habits - in the opinion of the poor sod who gets to take care of it when his lordship can't reach the burns to clean them up on his own - is probably the fact that he appears to firmly believe few enchantments could fail to be improved by the involvement of fire. This one, though, this one needs it ( Read more... )

Some perverse part of his mind - he supplies 'all of it, then?' mentally on reflex - refuses to let go of the knowledge that Sparhawk saw fit to share with him. He avoids it; he works, he travels, he busies himself with acquiring the odd gift for those of his acquaintance who celebrate this winter holiday he keeps hearing about, and those he just ( Read more... )

The crisp cold air in Arum gives way to the more temperate nexus, and Martel loosens his cloak as he walks further away from the portal - habitually, as if this is something that he does quite often, because it is. The nexus has become a routine the way he knows just about anything can become routine, and he uses it for recreation and for business ( Read more... )