Opposite the entrance, at the far end of the chamber, a fire crackled and sputtered, its flames reflected in the onyx of the hearth. But in spite of the fire, the room was covered in shadow, swallowing up the meager glow; only the desk and armchair standing before it were brightly lit. Two other chairs were just visible, placed at angles in front the desk, and a figure lounged in the one on the right. Another figure, little more than a black silhouette before the flames, stood immobile beside the fireplace, arms crossed.
Gateo crossed the floor silently, and as he approached he could hear the man in the chair speaking, his tone one of amusement. The other did not reply, though he seemed to be listening intently. The first man broke out into hearty laughter just as Gateo reached the desk and bowed low.
?Ezt?fiel,? he said in greeting to the drow at the fireside, whose skin gleamed darkly in the light. ?Misen,? he added, with a nod to the lean man in the chair. Misen, clad in the habitual leathers and mail of a soldier, was still chuckling to himself, and gave a wave with the wine glass in his hand. Gateo turned back to the silhouetted figure, waiting.
?Report,? said the quiet voice of Dveqyr, Ezt?fiel of Ytrewtsu and High Priest of the Izzu?ri.
Gateo bowed once more, then began.
He was surprised that he had ever been worried. The reports were so much a part of him that as soon as he spoke, the words simply flowed out with the ease of long years of practice. His account of the tasks he had been assigned was accurate and precise, with enough detail to answer all questions that might be asked, but sparse enough that it was only a matter of minutes before he finished. In the past week he had dealt with five matters pertaining to the family?s various alliances, three of them crucial, and all of them favorably concluded. He did not take pride in his work; he merely completed it, as was his duty. But one way or another, he always completed it successfully. Over the years, this had earned him a reputation.
Once all the facts had been laid out, he clasped his hands behind his back.
Dveqyr took a seat in the armchair at the desk and laced his thin fingers together. He was ancient, even for a drow, but did not look it, save for the whiteness of his hair. His skin was unwrinkled, his brow free of the care lines of age. He had the strong, sharp features of a much younger man, but the set of his jaw told of older convictions, ones that Gateo knew had been forged over centuries. When he finally spoke, his eyes glowing like coals in the firelight, the words were as flat and hard as steel. ?You leave tomorrow for your estate.?
?As is customary, Ezt?fiel,? replied Gateo with a nod. A spark of worry flickered to life inside of him, but he ignored it.
?Yes. Then,? the high priest glanced at Misen, ?that will be all.?
As quickly as it had appeared, the spark died away. The audience was over. And Gateo bowed once more, then strode back out into the sunlight.
He was just entering the manor proper through another set of double doors when he heard someone shout his name and nearly froze, but caught himself. Turning, he saw Misen jogging up behind him, and held the door to let the older man pass through. Misen grinned and clapped him on the shoulder.
?Gateo! It?s been a while. How fares Dveqyr?s favorite?? He still had the wine glass in his hand, though it was nearly empty. His other hand rested easily on the sheathed dagger at his hip.
?Well enough.?
Misen nodded and took a final sip, handing the glass off to a nearby servant. They strode through the shadows of the main hall, which was brimming with family, servants, and slaves alike. The hall?s ceiling arched over their heads in a complex dance of masonry and wooden beams, each carved with names and tales from the house?s history. They were too far up for passersby to make out, but they did not have to be read. Everyone within the manor?s walls knew they were there and knew the stories they contained. It was merely a reminder, as was everything in the house, in its own way. Misen rubbed his short beard thoughtfully as they walked beneath the beams, glancing up at them. He did not look a day over thirty, though he was, like most of the family, many years older than he appeared.
?Hm. And how about your pretty cousin? Any news of her lately??
Gateo raised an eyebrow at Misen, who grinned at him with the usual roguish laughter on the surface of his eyes. Other things ? truer things ? gnashed their teeth from beneath it. Gateo?s stomach tensed, but he did not so much as blink. He simply said, ?Nothing of note,? and shrugged.
Misen sighed. ?Ah well.? He ran a hand through his close-cropped hair, still dusted slightly from travel. ?Speaking of pretty little things, I don?t suppose you?ve seen the Sileni girl anywhere? She?s probably expecting me ? I?ll blame my lateness on our most holy uncle for asking so many questions.?
Gateo shook his head. He had not seen her in several days, and even if he had, he would not have been in a hurry to mention her whereabouts.
?No? Pity. You have met her, though, haven?t you? Lovely girl. I think the parents expect me to produce a ring this week.?
?How unwise of them,? he said, which, unfortunately, was true.
A light chuckle escaped Misen, and he grinned. ?Quite. Well, I must be off ? haven?t been out of this armor for a few days, and I have business to attend to. What should I say this time, do you think??
?That you are sorry??
?Oh, for shame, I won?t lie to the girl. Perhaps I?ll tell her I?ve taken to her sister ? not entirely a lie.? The grin became a wolfish baring of teeth, and all traces of mirth vanished, swallowed up by a yawning hunger. ?Well, I?ll think about it. Have a good trip.? With a wave, he turned down a separate hallway, singing a lovelorn minstrel tune under his breath. Gateo did not turn to watch him go, but the jaunty notes still echoed in his ears even as he headed for his own chambers.
A good trip? Nodding to himself, Gateo hoped that it would be.
*****