Moryan's mind turned to other thoughts as the night trudged on wearily and she drew closer and closer to Caer, finally resting her head upon his shoulder. She'd been up for nearly two days straight, dealing with more issues and matters than a mercenary ought to. The voices of Arguyle and the King droned on, reminiscing about childhood antics. She could feel Carrington's arm slip around her, and the soothing warmth of his touch along the back of her neck.


Her eyes drifted closed, and she dozed lightly, blessed by the tenderness of the man next to her as he lovingly stroked the back of her neck, just under her hair. She woke to his lips upon her forehead, and the whisper of, "Its nearly dawn m'love."


She tugged her fingers through her hair and gazed around the room. Crispian still clutched a half empty wine glass in his hands, and she wondered how many he'd gone through. Arguyle and the King were gone, something about making themselves look presentable.


She glanced at her rumpled cloak and battered armor and grinned crookedly at Carrington. "Well, I'm ready fer a farking war, eh lo'e? What about ye?" She glanced at him, noting the tiredness in his features, but the strength behind them as well. For he was growing in strength and certainty almost daily. Soon he would even realize that himself.


She stood and stretched lazily, then playfully kicked Crispian in the shin. "So ye bloody kissed that fairy o' a steward? I think ye took the job a bit too fer there Crisp.. can I call ye that? I heard someone else use it earlier I think."

Crispain flushed, then turned a bit redder. "I most certainly dinna kiss 'im!" he quipped, the wine mellowing him a bit. "He sort of caught me readin' the letters the old wench had stored, or close enough. I had to come up with some excuse and he is a bit obvious, ya' know." He found himself much more relaxed now that the king was gone, and topped up his goblet again.


"S'Blood," he said, slouching down in his chair a bit, "it's been a long couple of days." He looked at the brash, bawdy mercenary woman, leaning into the quiet, resevered cleric. A small smile creeped over his face. Aye, Moryan was tough, but she was human after all, he thought as he drained off the glass of wine.

 

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Drayton watched with ghostly green eyes as D'Vena quickly stormed out of the double doors, and muttering curses as she decended the spiral staircase. He then , silently moved to the door and creaked it open, peeringing inside through the darkness.


Only a single candle flooded light into the large bedroom. The room was lavish, with a four-post cherry-wwod bed with curtains, an amazing cradenza, intricate artworks, and beautiful furnishings. He shook hs head at the lavishness of the room, then slipped inside. He quickly made his way over to D'Vena's bed and began to knock lightly on the walls, searching for a hallow sound. He moved all around the area of the room, doing the same, lightly rapping against the wooded walls, his heat beating out of his chest.


At least, he heard the sound of a hollow knock, and ran his fingers along the edge of the panelling. He popped off the board and set it lightly against the bed, then ducked inside.


The room was lit by a single lantern, whish etched gleams of light across the small office with a ghost-like appeal. He made his was over to the addressed scrolls upon the desk, and switched them with Arguyle's. He tucked D'Vena's letters into his leather chestpiece, but not before swiping one of D'Vena's seats as well...it could be of great importance later. He swiftly left the small nook, and replaced the panel.


As he started to the door, he could hear the sound of crying, and the shouts of Lady D'Vena coming back up the stairs. He was out of time...Ravyin was trying to stall her, but here she came. There was nothing he could do. His eyes darted around the room, looking for a way out, when he spied a narrow door to a balcony. He took off in a dead sprint with silent feet; he could hear here approaching the doors. The sounds of Ravyin's crying were becoming louder and louder as he approached the balcony. At last, he met the stone edge, and pulled a rope from his cloak. He quickly tied it around his feet and prayed to God the rope was short enough to keep him from crashing into the groud. He tied one end around one of the small stone pillars which formed a ledge, and said a silent prayer. And he lept into the darkness.

 

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Carrington smiled a weary smile at Mory. He stood and wraps his arms around her lovingly from behind, then pressed his nose lightly into her hair, the scent of her hair filling his nostrils.


"Shall we call it a night for awhile love?" he said, giving her a knowing glance.

 

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A grim man with a wrinkled face and a hooded black cloak entered a small room with a single chair in the middle. A flash of grey hair could be seen underneath, but moved away as though the shadows were following him. His face was not visible. It was impossible to make out any other features, but his eyes. His eyes burned through the darkness as if balls of glowing ivory, hot from sitting in the sweltering sun. He sat in the single oak chair in the center of the small room, which was lit only by one, small, inadqueate candle.


"What can you give us?" a booming voice asked the man, muffled, as if it was being disguised.


The white haired man grinned beneath the shadows and looked to the four men standing across the room from him, all wrapped in dark shrouds.


"Everything."

 

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Jaelyan was not buying into her antics, and she ordered her up to her private suite, no need to do this in front of gossiping servants. Ravying continued her shrieking and wailing, what had gotten INTO that child. Gods forbid, was she pregnant? Lady D'vena pushed that thought away, and grabbed the girl by the arm, and started leading her upstairs to her suite. Some heavy wine should knock the screeching from her, and then she could deal with this more rationally.


Up the stairs, the girl fighting her the entire way they went. At the doors to her suite, Ravyin collapsed in a heap in front of the door, rocking back and forth in gushing sobs.


"Get that girl up and put her on mine bed," she told her steward as she stepped past and opened the door.


The suite was empty, a single candle left burning as she had. But a breath of air blew past her cheek from the finger sized gap in the doors to the balcony. Odd, she didn't recall leaving those open. She strode across the room, ignoring the wailing girl behind her, and pushed closed the elegant doors, and flipped the latch. Some lazy servant, she surmised, and turned her attention back to her daughter.


Ravyin managed to look around the room and saw no sign of her husband, to her relief. She hoped he'd gone out the doors. She also began to pray fervantly that Uncle Arguyle and the rest would be there in the morning to rescue her from her mother's clutches.


"Lord keep mine husband safe," she prayed to herself, and made ready for the tirade of Lady Jaelyn D'vena against her only child.

Drayton winced as the roep suddenly became tight, and choking his legs. He let out a soft growl of pain...he would be bruised, but it was better than being caught by that damned psychopath of a woman. He looked toward the ground and saw that he was only inches from crashing to his death. He took a deep breath and reached down for the dagger which had fallen from his cloak and nabbed it, cutting the rope from his ankles. He let balanced himself on one hand, his muscles tightening and rippling from the weight, and silently lowered himself to the ground.


He took off in a dead sprint away from the manor, and slipped into the shadows, diving behind some bushes. He peered around, in sight of the main doors. There he would wait for his wife, and pray she was allright.

 

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"Sedate that child," D'vena growled. "I dun care how thee do it, as long as she is nae bruised."


The woman paced, searching her mind for a plan. She had her daughter back in her grasp, that was one thing in her favor. But what to do with her. The annulment was safely tucked away in the church's keeping, Ravyin didn't even realize she was already divorced from her husband. "Hmmm.. thats it.. Hurbury would be pleased."


"Steward! Thine fastest most trusted courier. Quickly, to Lord Hurbury. Tell him to bring forth his son, there will be a wedding before morning!"


Ravyin blinked and groaned, but was held tight by two rather burly servants as they forced some heavy wine between her lips, laced with herbs to induce calmness. She tried to spit the wine out, but they pinched her nose and held her lips closed, forcing her to swallow.


Steepling her fingers together, Jaelyan nodded. "Hurbury trusts me, and he'll follow through. He wants this union as much as I do. Girl,"she said to a passing servant in the hall, "make mine daughter presentable, and get the rest of the servants up. The downstairs drawing room is to be spotless, for a wedding will take place at dawn."

Carrington nodded to Arguyle and Crispain, then kissed Mory softly.


"Drayton and Ravyin should be done by now. Its time for the rest of the plan."

 

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Drayton quickly lept from the shadows and met a Whitethorne page near the crossroads. He nodded.


"Ta' Constantine." Drayton said, and slapped the D'Vena seal on the envelopes, which he has stolen from her.


The page nodded.


"And tell Carrington to get ready. It's his turn."

 

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