Fall of Angels

XC

ZELDYAN EASES HERSELF into the armchair facing the alcove where the lady Ellindyja embroiders.

“You do me honor, Lady,” offers Ellindyja.

“You are the Lady of Lornth,” responds Zeldyan easily.

“No longer. That is your position, now, but you are most kind to recall my past … honor.” The needle carries crimson thread into the white fabric. “How might I be of help?”

“I thought you might like to hear. There was a dispatch from Lord Sillek, Lady,” answers Zeldyan.

“And you were thoughtful enough to come to tell me, and in your condition, too. I appreciate that. I do.” Ellindyja knots the crimson strand and threads green through the eye of the needle.

“I am well indeed, only sore, and that is passing. Nesslek is strong, and healthy indeed, and for that I am glad.” Zeldyan laughs. “But I stray. Lord Sillek has taken the ford below the great fork and nears Rulyarth. According to the dispatch, they have destroyed nearly a thousand Suthyans, and less than that number stands ready to defend Rulyarth. The city was never walled, you know,” she adds conversationally.

“I had heard that somewhere,” Ellindyja assents. “You understand these things, I can tell. It must help, being raised in an honorable warrior’s holding.”

“I was fortunate,” Zeldyan says, shifting her slender figure in the chair. “My mother was learned, and taught my father and her children. My father was skilled in arms and taught her and us both honor and arms.”

“He taught arms to the lady Erenthla?” Ellindyja raises her eyebrows.

“But, of course. He wanted no helpless women in hisholding.” Zeldyan smiles as she rises. “I must go, but I did want you to know that Lord Sillek is well.”

“I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Lady.”

Zeldyan inclines her head.

As the door closes behind her, Ellindyja snaps the green thread, and knots it in a quick, hard motion.