Dark Armor: Tea in the Garden

The paths came together again at the far end of the gardens, in another wide half-circle of white gravel. Lady Vathira had arranged for small tables to be waiting for them, set with many refreshments: fruit juices, teas, and soft wines; honeyed pastries and fresh fruits; fine cheeses and delicate crackers to hold them. 

Pallian waited until their guests had filled their cups and plates -- all silver, of course, and fit for royalty -- and then filled his own. The midday sun was growing warm, and he found himself unaccustomed to it; he'd spent too much time living in the crypt. He would have liked to sit quietly, perhaps with a book, but again that would have been rude. Instead, he seated himself with Lady Vathira and the Royalty of Edrias, carefully watching to make sure his attention was divided evenly between them. The High Magister's body servant had taken a seat at a second table just outside of their circle. He ate with quick, precise bites, his eyes flicking alertly around.

Lady Vathira had just finished a brief account of how the Scholarshome had come to be built in the city -- Pallian wasn't entirely sure how they'd gotten onto the topic, but he was glad not to be the only one talking -- when the messenger approached.

The messengers of the citadel were taken from among the younger servants, often friends of noble families or children from the wrong side of the bed. The role gave them an income, but also taught discretion and the importance of making connections; royal messengers might move to serve particular Houses, or rise to become secretaries or even find noble marriages if their backgrounds permitted. 

This one was, by the look of her, only just coming into womanhood; still a child, but a child who knew and understood her responsibilities... and the dangers that came with them. She stopped well back of the assemblage, even before Pallian or the body servant could rise, and knelt. "Noble-born," she said. "We have just had word. The city of Marinul has fallen. The Emissary reached it in the night. The earliest reports suggest that nothing remains save for the dying and some few survivors outside of the walls. The Wizard-King bids you come at once."

The High Magister rose, surveying Pallian and Lady Vathira by turns, and then focused on the messenger. "Take us to him." She turned to her body-servant. "Send your eyes to confirm."

The lion-man nodded and gestured, and for a moment a ghostly eagle sat on his wrist. Then the bird took to the sky, impossibly fast, and they were following the messenger back to the keep.