29 Storis, 1138
Time refused to behave. Committing murder probably took moments of clock time, but part of me would never leave those few seconds. I can’t make myself live from one second to the next when time itself won’t cooperate. Hundreds of thoughts wanted my immediate attention. My skin itched where the blood dried.
My heart started to pound — the panic always comes after — and amazingly, my mind helped. You should apologize to Danna Grenlin. Continue reading “Rien’s Rebellion 35 – 29 Storis 1138 Rien”
29 Storis, 1138
“I hate being out alone,” I sang under my breath, trying to find the tune, though that was exactly what I was doing, standing in the falling slush under near-black skies, and trying to clear my head of used passion-flower smoke and brandy fumes. “I hate the cold. I hate ice storms. I hate mud and snow and I hate Zara’s evil brother.” Continue reading “Rien’s Rebellion 34 – 29 Storis 1138 Bran”
29 Storis, 1138
The room was black before I returned to it. I don’t know where my mind went after the man fell, but my face was wet and something distant hurt. My throat burned — tears or vomit. If I screamed, someone would have come. Night’s fallen. I sat in the dark, holding my companion’s body, her murderer on the floor beside us. Continue reading “Rien’s Rebellion 33 – 29 Storis 1138 Rien”
23 Storis, 1138
I’d forgotten my scheduled tenday leave. Generals don’t get them, but Advocates must rest their Ingeniae. The border had been busier than expected, and given the choice of staring at my walls or taking the time, I wanted away.
If I rode hard, I’d make Celestan in two days. I’d have to stop overnight, but Watable lay in the path. I should talk to the Teregenitor while the Prava’s in autumn recess anyway. He’ll be home. I sent flash messages to him and Rien, then spent the afternoon ordering my files.
The heliograph officer on duty told me the Celestan station was out; they were getting a storm, but he had a reply from Watable. Rien won’t mind a surprise. Watable’s reply read, Best possible time. Women gone. Lethian Retreat. Thank the gods. See you tomorrow. Continue reading “Rien’s Rebellion 32: 23-28 Storis 1138 Ragin”
29 Storis 1138
In the morning, we returned to the office to work on Teregenia Silvalt’s case. I left the Company file on our table; Bran had mentioned he was staying at the Belleview, and I’d invited him to a late supper. No need to drag him out in a Wet ice storm when I could deliver his passcard. As for his survivor or partner or whatever the mysterious Quin Byssus was, Avah dropped the subject and I wouldn’t resurrect it. Bran could tell me what that man meant to him any time.
Avah disappeared at midday — another session with the tooth Healer — and my office grew cluttered as marked books accumulated on my worktables and floor. I shoved a stack of genealogies on the floor deeper under my desk and heard the odd sound of something rolling, then striking the wall. Continue reading “Rien’s Rebellion 31 – 29 Storis 1138 Rien”
17-25 Storis, 1138, Autumn
Rain poured down my window. Watching it sheet marginally interested me more than watching the plaster grow moss. Regarding weather, Uplanders say, if you don’t like it, wait five minutes or walk five miles. Not this year, though. Every few years, enough autumnal rain falls to fill the Green Sea. Next year, or the one after, would begin a decade of drought, but lucky me, I moved to the Uplands in The Wet. Continue reading “Rien’s Rebellion 29 – 17-25 Storis 1138 Autumn Rien”
18 Frumentis 1138
Not the best thoughts to be having as I picked up my post after a trip south. Letters from the various Patronae who run my langreves, one from Ethene at Haelens, and a thick one from Rien, as well as her regular daily messages. I shoved everything in my pocket, took my ruck to my cubicle, and sent my equerry for whatever the mess had available. Good thing about the small rooms assigned to Advocates — security through obscurity becomes necessity. Ryten and I had an agreement — he kept my office and left my quarters alone now.
I sat on my cot and cracked the seals, putting aside those needing reply and dropping the rest in the brazier. I saved the thick one for last, expecting it would require more of me. Not wrong, there. The sheets were covered in her spiky script, but just repeated her other four letters.
She considered whatever she had written secret. That explained the paper — heavy rag stuff that can stand a wetting, more cloth than paper. The backs of each sheet were blank. Continue reading “Rien’s Rebellion 28 – 18 Frumentis 1138 Ragin”