Saturday, July 30, 2011

Chapter 4 - Part VII

"Anita and the Nü girl have yet to arise." he repeated deliberately when Vaughn did not respond immediately. Gregor clasped his palm to his forehead and pushed his inch and a half dirty blond hair back. It was a futile effort. The cool damp early summer moisture in the air clung to every follicle, dragging it back into his eyes.

¨You are to stay with the Nü until she finds herself, elek bei'thal. The bei will know what to do when she awakens. You are to let her proceed on her own." Around Vaughn's waist, a thick leather belt kept a forearm and a half, half-moon Aeglch sword and sheath close at hand. Thumb to the sky, the elder bei'thal grasped at it's hilt, tapping the silver laced leather grip with his finger tips. "If neither awaken before the sun has fallen and risen again, it is for you to deal with them properly."

Gregor did not need to be told what that entailed. First, there would be the bloodless termination of their lives; perhaps a break of the neck or suffocation. Gregor did not have his poisons set with him. Next would be the task of disposing of the bodies. That might require a tad more finesse.

"Nothing overlooked, Gregor," Vaughn warned, "Cedric's delivery must be completed without the slightest notice of any of the nobles. If we must sacrifice even our most talented of bei, then so be it. She would have understood."

Gregor cast a sideways glance at the slumbering women while Vaughn, the elek bei'thal, second of his order, spun on a leather booted, steel plated heel. His dull grey sheepskin cloak flared up with the motion before disappeared from the room.

Anita lie splayed across the better half of the pallet. A cold sweat gleamed from her forehead as her body struggled against the tug of unconsciousness. Neither a muscle of she, nor that of the Nü twitched, but the signs of tension radiated from the two bodies nonetheless.

Davin paid her little heed as he prepared to leave. Having lost consciousness in his suitable bei attire, his preparations were minimal. He readjusted his pocket belt of tools and monies before making his way to the door. Half way exiting the building, he made his solitary prayers hiding behind the half open oak wood door. Out of habit for what once was, he drew breath to utter a plea to Dagleth, Keeper of Progress and Corruption, that the deity give leave to the horde only so much as to grant his partner the gift of progress.

Of course, even before the compromise, he had lived in Heilth long enough to know that the keepers answered no one, but he viscerally longed for the hour when Anita would finish her task, see color and texture with her ears and join him by his side once again. No emotion had escaped from his lips, nor could it show from his long dead eyes; it would never express itself on this body ever again. Yet Davin gave cause to the notion that the compromised, the bei, might still retain some shred of humanity, that in their monotone voices they could still bear some measure of concern for another. Perhaps Davin's need for Anita was practical, moreso than personal. For his part, Cedric could not tell.

Finally dressed, Cedric was adorned in garb more likely to be displayed by a flax and maize farmer of the rural Eirdred lowlands, rather than a servant of noble employ. His hands were covered in an indigo-blue dyed thin linen glove, save for his fingertips, which extended to his elbow, though purple tinted stretched sheepskin wrap held fast the gloves and tucked in his loose beige tunic around his forearm and.

In the hot humid fields of human sized grasses and tough and stiff flax, his loose flowing tunic would have been the best way to remain cool, while the tightly bound gloves would ensure that no flora nor fauna would catch on his garb and slow his progress. Similarly his breeches clung tightly to his skin, but ended at his knee caps. An average farmer would protect his calves with rough leather boots, but while in the city to sell his wares, he might elect to wear cobbled shoes instead.

Gregor shoed him on, suggesting he hurry if he wanted to catch up with Vaughn. Cedric looked helplessly at the Lithenese man, much like the sheep he was wearing looked like prior to its transformation into bindings. What little trust he had in these people was entirely vested in Gregor and Gregor alone. To be passed like hot, steamed pine nuts was a concept that taxed Cedric's rabbit heart terribly. When minutes turned to a quarter hour with Cedric's feet affixed to the surface of the floor Vaughn lost his patience and made a reappearance at the room. Before Cedric could whimper the slightest protest, the thick, muscular man pulled from his own reserves a wad of hemp chewing paste far to large to be enjoyed properly and stuffed it in the timid Archne chef's mouth. Cedric gagged on the sticky substance that filled his mouth but was unable to utter anything more than grunts and groans. The paste took little time effectively calming the thin nervous man and he relaxed. Vaughn seized his shoulder and Cedric was relegated to a force march outside of the room. In a few moments, their footsteps on the hollow hallway floor were no more.

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