and you think the evening wasn't there before she stepped out
As the weather gets increasingly threatening, the prospect of stopping somewhere for shelter becomes less of a prospect and more of a requirement. The (granted tedious) proposition of setting up tents is put off by the arrival of Kring riding back with a small carriage behind him to introduce 'Baron Kotyk', a landowner who seems very pleased by the ( Read more... )
Comments 46
"Speak not disparagingly of our host, light of my life," Sparhawk says, mildly, and Maryani is suddenly stricken by how similarly sarcastic Sparhawk and Martel can be. She's grateful they don't snipe at each other any more than they already do ( ... )
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On the pretext of helping her with her cloak before they sit, Martel murmurs back, "If you abandon me to these people, I will leave you behind." Speaking of the young poet's vanity, he looks a little sick when Martel's own hair shines beacon-bright in the glow of the lit lamps.
"We're so isolated here," Katina -- one of the Baron's sisters -- sighs to Melidere, "and so dreadfully out of fashion..." As she continues, and the Baroness obligingly feigns shock appropriately, it's difficult to tell which of them Stragen seems more keen on getting away from.
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Maryani just grins at Martel, and listens to the extraordinarily tedious conversation ( ... )
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There are days when Martel does, too. Watching the baroness stare gape-mouthed at the blonde queen in horror or shock or probably both, this is probably one of them. Stragen helpfully advises, "The Eosian continent has a thin veneer of civilization, my lady, but underneath it all we're really quite savage."
Astansia snaps her mouth shut and objectively Martel thinks she rallies well, considering. Less objectively, he comments, "It keeps us occupied in the summer months. Only madmen go to war in winter."
Across the room, Bevier appears to have been trapped by the beringletted poet--'Elron', an unfortunate name if ever there was one. The Cyrinic sighs of his own lack of worldliness, commenting instead on Sparhawk's 'almost poetic descriptions.
"I should be most interested," Elron lies, with a professional's contempt for the amateur, "Does he touch at all on colour?"
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