The Dove of Death

Chapter Eleven

‘I am sorry…I am sorry…I am sorry…’

Fidelma’s voice echoed as if in a cave far, far away. Eadulf found himself fighting against the black oppressive current, swimming badly upwards towards the light and suddenly…His eyes snapped open. Fidelma was leaning over him, her hair and clothing soaked, water streaming down her face — mingling, it seemed, with tears. Her expression was tragic.

He started to cough and spit out seawater. The taste in his mouth was vile.

‘I am sorry.’ Her voice came again.

He sank back. ‘It seems that we are making a habit of trying to drown one another,’ he managed to croak, unable to control the timbre of his voice.

Her face above him broke into a smile of relief.

‘Eadulf!’ was all she said, and was unable to speak further for emotion.

Eadulf became aware that he was lying on grassy ground. The crash of waves came at a distance. He was soaked through. His head ached and his throat was sore. The realisation came to him gradually that he must have been hauled from the water and carried to this spot. He looked at Fidelma and was about to form a question when he observed the shadows behind her. He tried to focus on them and after a moment they moulded into two grim-faced warriors whose swords, however, were sheathed.

Fidelma saw his glance.

‘We were seen — these men came down to the shore and managed to save us.’

He became aware of another man kneeling by his head and proffering a goatskin water bag.

‘Take a sip, swirl it round your mouth and then spit it out,’ the man instructed. ‘You have swallowed much seawater and ’tis better not to digest any more water until your mouth has been cleansed.’

Eadulf tried to raise himself on one elbow but his head started to swim.

‘Better if I could spew it forth,’ he replied, remembering the advice of the physicians under whom he had trained.

‘We caused you to vomit on the seashore, otherwise…’ The man did not finish.

Obediently Eadulf took a sip, tasting the cool fresh water in his mouth. It was hard not to swallow but he rinsed his mouth and spat the water out again.

The man took the goatskin bag and put back the stopper. Then he signalled to his men. They lifted Eadulf like a child between them.

‘It is not far to my lady Trifina’s dwelling,’ the man said. ‘Do you require assistance, lady?’ This last enquiry was addressed to Fidelma.

Eadulf did not hear her answer but it must have been negative.

‘It was lucky for you that we were at the southern point of the island,’ the man said, as they began to move forward. Eadulf had the impression that he was young and swarthy. He was feeling light-headed again and wanted more than anything to close his eyes and sleep. However, he struggled to keep his senses attuned as he remembered their circumstances and realised that they might soon be in trouble.

‘Is the lady Trifina in residence?’ he heard Fidelma ask innocently.

‘She is often at this island, which she regards as her home more than at her father’s residence. Do you know the lady Trifina then?’

‘We have met.’ Fidelma’s voice was solemn.

It seemed that Eadulf must have passed out then, for when he came to, he was inside a building and could feel the warmth and hear the crackle of a fire. A young man was bending over him and prodding him with firm but gentle fingers. Eadulf felt nauseous and his headache had not improved. He blinked and groaned but his eyelids felt like lead.

‘He will be all right after a short rest, lady,’ the young man said to someone behind him. He spoke in Latin.

‘What on earth has happened?’ The voice was familiar and it took him a moment or two before he identified it as that of Trifina.

‘We were coming to pay a call on you and mistook a safe landing-place,’ he heard Fidelma reply. Even through the fog of his mind, it did not sound convincing. ‘We struck a submerged rock and our boat broke up. It was fortunate for us that these men saw the incident from the shore and effected a rescue. They saved our lives.’

‘They will be rewarded,’ responded Trifina distantly. ‘But how did those at Brilhag let you come out here alone? Macliau knows how dangerous the waters around these islands can be, unless one has knowledge. I do not understand it.’

‘Your brother is away hunting,’ Fidelma said.

Trifina gave an exclamation of surprise.

‘He left you and…?’ Then her tone became brisk. ‘But we must get you dry, into warm clothes, and it looks as though your companion stands in need of some attention. Heraclius, my physician, will take care of him. If only Iuna were here,’ she added absently.

‘Iuna is not here?’ Fidelma’s ejaculation of surprise was apparent but then it seemed she controlled her astonishment. ‘I thought I had heard that Iuna was coming to join you here,’ she added.

‘Indeed not,’ responded Trifina. ‘Why should she? I left her to attend to your wants at Brilhag.’

‘I thought that she might have come bearing the news.’ Was Fidelma searching for an excuse?

‘News?’ Trifina’s tone was perplexed. ‘What news?’

‘Firstly, that Riwanon has arrived at Brilhag with her entourage.’

‘Riwanon!’ The voice had the tone of surprise but there was something not quite right to Fidelma’s ears. A note of falseness. ‘Then are you saying that King Alain and my father are at Brilhag?’

‘They have not arrived yet,’ Fidelma rejoined. ‘Riwanon had left them hunting and came on by herself.’

‘Then it is a good thing that Iuna is at my father’s fortress. And my brother has decided to go hunting at this moment? For shame! No one there to welcome the Queen.’

‘There is even more news, lady,’ Fidelma said. She cleared her throat. ‘Unwelcome news, I regret. Abbot Maelcar of the community of Gildas arrived at Brilhag…and was murdered last night, or rather, early this morning.’

There was a long silence.

‘Are you jesting?’ demanded Trifina. Yet again there was something unconvincing about her tone as though she were affecting surprise rather than truly being surprised.

‘I do not jest about murder, lady,’ Fidelma replied firmly.

‘Let me get this right. You say that Abbot Maelcar was murdered while staying at my father’s fortress at the same time as Riwanon arrived?’

‘Indeed. It was to bring you these tidings that we came.’

Eadulf presumed that Fidelma considered herself to be merely twisting the facts to suit the moment, rather than telling an outright lie. Even in his befogged state of mind he could almost smile at the logic.

‘We will talk more about this when you are dried and changed,’ Trifina announced abruptly.

Eadulf was aware of instructions being issued but he still could not open his eyes. A great lethargy seemed to overcome him and he slid into a gentle sleep.

Fidelma had followed Trifina’s attendants, who carried Eadulf between them through a light oakwood-panelled corridor then up a broad stairway. They ascended without pausing and went along another corridor to a comfortable chamber where a wood fire was already crackling in the hearth. While Eadulf was being bathed and placed in a warm bed, a female attendant invited Fidelma into a small adjoining chamber where a tub of hot water had also been prepared for her and some dry clothing had been brought. It did not take long before she felt restored to her normal self, and one of the female servants told her that the lady Trifina was now awaiting her with refreshments.

She looked in on Eadulf before she left and saw that he was sleeping fairly comfortably. The young physician, who looked little more than a youth, stood respectfully by the fire.

‘I will stay with him for a while, lady,’ he said. He spoke in excellent Latin but she could not place his accent. ‘The water is out of his lungs but the immersion has disturbed him; also he has a bad graze on the head, and so he desires sleep above all things. I have seen this desire for sleep happen before, when someone has been resuscitated after near-death by drowning. A rest, and he will be well again. Have no fear.’

‘Trifina says you are a physician.’ Fidelma gave the youth a slow scrutiny.

‘I am qualified in my own land in medical matters, lady.’

‘What is your name?’

‘Heraclius, lady.’

‘I have heard that name before. And surely it is a Greek name?’

For a moment an expression of pride crossed the young man’s features.

‘I was born and educated in Constantinopolis.’

‘Then I leave Eadulf in your hands, Heraclius. Be sure to send for me, if anything is amiss.’

‘Have no worries, lady. He will be well soon.’

Fidelma turned and followed the waiting female attendant along the panelled corridor again to the stairway. The interior of the building was almost entirely of wood, with the exception of a stone tower and lower foundations. There were outer walls of sandstone which surrounded the large two-storey building. It was an impressive place and Fidelma had seen few buildings to compare with it. It was, in many respects, reminiscent of structures she had seen in Rome.

‘This is a magnificent building,’ she commented to the attendant. The girl bobbed nervously.

‘Indeed, lady.’

‘And old?’

‘They say that a Roman governor, sent to rule over the Veneti many years ago, had it built as a summer palace.’

Fidelma congratulated herself. So that explained the similarity that she had felt between this villa and some of the buildings she had seen in Rome. However, Roman residences were not usually built with second storeys and watchtowers, so she presumed that much had been added to the building over the years. From the bottom of the stairway, the attendant led her along a corridor and through a door which entered on a typical Roman-style inner courtyard with what might once have been a fountain but which no longer gushed water. On the far side of this courtyard, the attendant opened a carved oak door and ushered Fidelma inside.

Trifina received her in a large chamber. A fire was blazing in the hearth at the far end and oak chairs were set on either side. There was a similarly ornate table laid with various dishes and jugs, and Trifina waved towards it.

‘There is mulled wine or soup to choose from. Take what you will,’ she invited. ‘Something warm will help you recover from your ordeal.’

Fidelma took a goblet of mulled wine and went to the seat by the fire indicated by Trifina.

The daughter of the mac’htiern of Brilhag stretched herself in the second comfortable chair and examined Fidelma carefully from under lowered lids.

‘You did not really make your journey here just to bring me news, did you?’ she opened. It was not said as an accusation but a confident statement seeking an expected confirmation.

Fidelma decided to be honest.

‘Not entirely,’ she admitted. ‘Although it is true that Riwanon has arrived and that Macliau is not at Brilhag. It is also true that Abbot Maelcar has been murdered.’

Trifina continued her close scrutiny but without expression,

‘But that is not what brought you on your foolhardy voyage here, is it? Let us start, though, with the death of the Abbot. Who murdered him — and why?’

‘We do not know. At the moment, the only suspect seems to be Iuna.’

Trifina’s eyes widened in surprise.

‘Iuna? Abbot Maelcar was not the friendliest of men and his attitude certainly made him many enemies locally. However, I can’t believe…Iuna. Why?’

‘I found her fleeing from Abbot Maelcar’s bedchamber. She said that she had discovered the body a moment before. I do not think she told me the entire truth. Then I saw her leaving the fortress with Iarnbud in a small sailing boat. They were heading in this direction. Hence, Eadulf and I followed.’

At this, Trifina’s expression turned to one of incredulity. ‘Iarnbud and Iuna? You are mistaken.’

‘I am not. Abbot Maelcar said that he had come to Brilhag in answer to a plea, which was purportedly sent by the King. But it was clear, at once, that no such message came from the King or your father, neither of whom had reached Brilhag at the time.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘I think Abbot Maelcar was purposely lured to Brilhag to meet his killer. The message was, as Riwanon said, a false one.’

Trifina’s eyes narrowed slightly.

‘And so you say that Iuna was the killer and somehow acting in concert with Iarnbud? I say you are mistaken. I know them both and well.’

‘Someone who kills is always known by someone else,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘Just how long has Iuna served you?’

Trifina considered the question a moment before she decided to answer.

‘She came to be fostered by my father when she was seven years old.’

‘Fostered?’ The girl had used the Latin term curare. Fidelma wondered if it were the same system as the one that prevailed in her own land; the system called altramm which was so important to the society and the rearing of children. For when a child was seven years old, he or she could be sent to a family for education and rearing. The fosterage could be altramm serce, for affection, to families of equal rank in which no fee was paid. There was a second, less usual form, and that was fosterage for a fee. In both cases the foster family had to maintain the child according to the rank in which it was born. This was done under legal contract.

Fidelma tried to outline this to Trifina who, to her surprise, confirmed a fairly similar method among her people.

‘A friend of my father in Brekilien who was also a distant relative sent Iuna to us. He was a noble who soon after lost his life defending the eastern borders against the Franks. Iuna’s mother was killed at the same time. So we became her family.’

‘Iuna has been raised as one of your family? Yet she says she is the house stewardess and acts as your servant.’

Trifina shrugged in a dismissive fashion.

‘She can choose whatever title she is pleased to call herself. Her family being annihilated in a Frankish raid, she has remained with us. We continue to hold her in the affection of our family but she has decided to fulfil the position of…’ she paused, trying to think of a correct word ‘…quae res domesticas dispensat.’

‘A housekeeper,’ supplied Fidelma.

‘The steward of our household. She likes to be in charge of the domestic arrangements, although she can claim the privilege of rank within our family. But she has the temperament of a martyr. It is a role she seems to enjoy and, to be truthful, we welcome it, especially since my mother died of the Yellow Plague some six years ago. Iuna has complete freedom and can come and go as she pleases. In fact, she does. She has her own boat and is an expert at sailing.’

‘I am sorry to hear that your mother succumbed to the plague.’

‘I doubt if there is a family in all the world who was not touched in some way by the onslaught of that plague,’ was all Trifina commented.

‘Did Iuna know Abbot Maelcar well?’

Trifina actually smiled. ‘Know him well? Our family are patrons of his community. We have all known him for several years. Since he took up the Rule of Benedict, my father is not pleased, for he supports the old ways. The Abbot is not originally from this area. In fact, he comes from Brekilien, which is where Iuna’s family originally came from.’

‘And Iarnbud? How does he get on with the Abbot?’

‘You ask a lot of questions,’ frowned Trifina.

‘It is my task in life,’ Fidelma replied defensively. ‘I have mentioned before that I am an advocate of the laws of my own land, and my role-’

Trifina held up her hand for a moment.

‘I have understood that. What I cannot understand is why you are asking your questions here — and of me. You have no authority in this kingdom.’

‘Riwanon has asked me to discover who killed Abbot Maelcar.’

‘That is a curious commission to give a stranger.’ The girl’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

‘It is not the first time that I have been employed by those not of my own country,’ Fidelma said irritably. ‘Saxons, Romans and Britons have all sought my services.’

‘You would have been more competent for the task if you were able to speak our language.’ Trifina sniffed a little in disapproval.

Fidelma flushed for, indeed, it was a weakness that she was well aware of.

There was an awkward silence before Trifina spoke again.

‘So you claim that Iuna left Brilhag in a sailing boat with Iarnbud and they were heading in the direction of this island? Well, I find that hard to believe, and I can assure you that Iuna is not on this island to my knowledge.’ Her words were spoken in a studied fashion and her eyes held those of Fidelma without fear or guile. She was either a good actress or she spoke the truth.

‘You were about to answer my question about Iarnbud,’ Fidelma pressed.

‘Iarnbud is harmless,’ replied Trifina. ‘A crazy man of the woods but my father has known him ever since he was growing up. He is loyal to my family. For charity’s sake, we ensure the man wants for nothing. He employs the fiction that he is my father’s official bretat or judge, although I would not like to be judged by him.’

‘In what way do you mean that?’

‘His idea of judgement is to cut the wood to see if people are guilty or not.’

‘Cut the wood?’ Fidelma was puzzled.

‘We call it prenn dethin…an ancient custom among people where pieces of a sacred tree are cut and these are tossed on the ground. Depending on the way they fall, the person is guilty or not. It is an ancient pagan custom that most people had given up long before Julius Caesar invaded our land.’

The idea reminded Fidelma of something she had heard.

‘I think we had a similar custom in ancient times. It was called crannacher and means the same thing. From what I heard the other evening, when Iarnbud discoursed with Brother Metellus, he was very sharp of mind and knowledge.’

‘Of course. Iarnbud is knowledgeable. But he is one who believes in the old ways, and his old ways stretch back to the dawn of time.’

‘He lives on his boat amongst these islands?’

‘He does. Why do you ask that?’

‘I wondered where he would be going in his boat.’

Trifina frowned. ‘I cannot see that this has anything to do with the Abbot.’ Then she chuckled sourly. ‘You think old Iarnbud persuaded Iuna to kill the Abbot in some dispute about Christianity and the Old Faith? I can tell you that you are wrong. Iarnbud needs people like Brother Melletus and Abbot Maelcar so that he can expound on his criticisms of the New Faith and reinforce him in his own belief. He would not kill Abbot Maelcar.’

‘One of the things I have learned in life is that, given the right circumstances, everyone is capable of killing someone,’ replied Fidelma quietly.

Trifina shook her head in disagreement.

‘Philosophically, you may be right. But practically, I doubt it. Anyway, you are claiming that Iuna and Iarnbud, after killing Abbot Maelcar, ran off…well, sailed off to one of these islands and that is why you pursued them? I don’t believe it.’

‘I am not interested in belief. Only in fact,’ Fidelma responded. ‘Do you have any ideas as to why Iuna and Iarnbud would have any serious business together?’

‘So far as I know, Iuna doesn’t like Iarnbud particularly. She tolerates him out of respect for our family.’

A memory came into Fidelma’s mind.

‘Are you the eldest daughter of the chieftain of Brilhag?’

‘I am the only daughter of my father, Lord Canao,’ replied Trifina sharply.

‘You have had no younger sister?’

‘Of course not. Why do you ask?’

‘Aourken said that she taught Latin grammar to you and-’

‘Oh, you mean Iuna — my foster sister.’

‘Ah,’ sighed Fidelma softly. Of course, that explained the reference to the younger sister. ‘And is there any reason why Iarnbud would arrive at your father’s fortress on the morning after Abbot Maelcar was murdered, seek out Iuna, why they were having an animated discussion and why they would leave without telling anyone, get in a boat and sail out in this direction?’

Trifina was silent, staring at the floor for a while.

‘I have told you, Fidelma, that I cannot give you an answer. I could not even begin to guess at an answer. But I will say this: I can only admire your foolhardiness at taking a small sailing craft and following Iarnbud into these waters.’

‘Foolhardiness?’ Fidelma echoed.

‘What else was it but foolish?’ reproved Trifina. ‘Do you realise how near death you and your Saxon friend came? You obviously took a sailboat without permission and blithely set out after them, sailing into waters you did not know. These are dangerous waters, dangerous rocks. Then you tried to land at the most perilous point of this island. If my men had not been watching you from the shore and reached you in time, you would both have drowned.’

Fidelma let the criticism pass over her with only a slight flush coming to her cheeks. She knew that the girl was right and she was aware that she had nearly been the instrument of Eadulf’s death. She tried to disguise the shiver that passed through her frame at the thought. Trifina saw the movement, however, and was able to sense the cause of it. She smiled humourlessly that her words had had that effect.

‘So long as you know and have learned the lesson,’ she said with harsh satisfaction. ‘But as for your question, I will reiterate once more…I cannot hazard a guess why Iuna and Iarnbud should behave in the manner you claim. Nor, indeed, has it been reported to me that they have arrived on this island.’

‘I assume that you would know if they had?’ Fidelma asked. ‘There is nowhere that they could have landed, unknown to you?’

For a moment the girl’s brows drew together in anger and then her face relaxed and she actually chuckled.

‘You obviously tried to land without me knowing. You see what good that did? There is no way they could land here without being spotted by my men. Of that I am sure.’

‘Where, then, would they be heading?’

‘There are countless islands in the Little Sea. Take your pick.’

Fidelma was disappointed. ‘There are no other islands that come to your mind where Iuna or Iarnbud might be making for — one in this direction?’

‘There are other islands, mostly inhabited by fishing folk. I would not be so foolish as to give you a boat to pursue the useless and dangerous quest that I think you have in mind,’ she added, correctly guessing the thought that had occurred to Fidelma.

Fidelma smiled tightly and rose.

‘Then there is little I can do here. I will, with your permission, go to see how Eadulf is faring.’

‘I am sending one of my men to Brilhag to inform them that you are both safe and well and with me. When your companion is recovered, then I will return you to Brilhag. In the meantime, accept the hospitality of this place.’ She suddenly gazed wistfully around. ‘It was my mother’s favourite residence.’

She also rose and accompanied Fidelma to the door where an attendant waited to guide her back to the chamber where she had left Eadulf.

Fidelma found Eadulf sitting up, leaning against the pillow and looking pale and drawn. He managed to form an expression that was meant as a rueful grin. Someone had brought him a bowl of hot broth, which lay on the bedside but it was untouched.

‘How do you feel?’ she asked, coming to sit on the edge of the bed.

‘As if I had nearly drowned,’ responded Eadulf with dry humour.

‘I am sorry,’ she began contritely, but he reached out and caught her hand.

‘I know. I heard you on the shore when they pulled me out.’

‘I was doing what I thought was best.’

‘Audaces fortuna iuvat,’ he sighed. Fortune favours the daring. ‘Sometimes it works, sometimes…Are we now in trouble?’

If the truth were known, Fidelma was still horrified that her stubborn attitude had nearly been the instrument of Eadulf’s death. She discounted the fact that she, too, had nearly drowned. She had managed, however, to cling to a piece of intact boat until the warriors had effected their rescue. She tried to hide her emotions and turned to look at the broth. It was still warm.

‘We are not,’ she said shortly. ‘And you have not eaten,’ she accused, changing the subject and picking up the bowl and spoon. She held the bowl before him. He grimaced. So she took the spoon and held it to his mouth as one would coax a child. He obeyed her unspoken order and opened his mouth to allow the warm liquid to trickle into it. As she fed him, she told him the gist of her conversation with Trifina.

‘You believe that she is speaking the truth?’ asked Eadulf.

Fidelma put down the empty bowl and spoon.

‘As much as one can trust one’s instincts,’ she replied. ‘Her surprise when I told her about Iuna and Iarnbud seemed genuine enough. How do you feel?’

‘I can get up,’ he said. ‘The headache was the main thing and, thanks to the potions of a physician here, I feel much better.’

‘Are you sure you feel able?’

‘I hate lying abed, especially when there are things to be done,’ he replied.

‘Trifina has supplied us with dry clothes.’ Fidelma gave a short laugh. ‘This is getting to be a habit, borrowing clothes after being immersed in the sea.’

‘Let’s not make it a third time,’ replied Eadulf with grave humour. ‘My constitution will not stand it.’

Fidelma rose, went to the window of the chamber and peered out. From the position of the sun she concluded that she was looking eastward across a short sandy shoreline and a small stretch of water to another smaller island — and beyond that to various patches of rising land. This ‘Little Sea’, what the natives called the Morbihan, was filled with islands, and Iuna and Iarnbud could have gone to any one of them. But why? She sighed deeply in frustration.

Eadulf was pulling on the dry clothes, although not with the alacrity he usually displayed. He was still fairly weak.

‘Have we reached another dead-end?’ he asked.

‘Not exactly,’ she replied. ‘Iuna and Iarnbud left together. There is a link there, and we must find it. While there is still plenty of light, I am going to see if I can explore the island a little. I think Trifina was being truthful with me, but it is always a wise precaution to make certain. It shouldn’t take long to examine any bays and coves where Iuna and Iarnbud could hide.’

Eadulf gave a groan. ‘To be honest, while I am better, I don’t think I am up to exploring islands as yet.’

‘Stay in the villa,’ Fidelma suggested, looking sympathetic. ‘I shan’t go far on this small island.’ And she left him, sitting by the fire that had been lit in the chamber.

There was no one about outside and so Fidelma made her way down the stairs to the ground floor again, and along the corridor into the small courtyard, which led to the room where she had seen Trifina. As she neared the door, she saw that it was ajar and she heard voices raised. Familiar voices. Even though the speakers were conversing in the language of the Bretons, she recognised the commanding tones of Trifina. She would have entered, had it not been for the second voice. She was almost sure of the identity of the speaker before she peered through the crack between the door and the doorjamb — it was Bleidbara, looking serious. It was clear that Trifina was giving him instructions. He seemed to be asking a question or two and nodding at the answers. Then, to Fidelma’s surprise, the young man ended the conversation by leaning forward and kissing Trifina in a manner that bespoke a deeper intimacy than she had been led to believe. And what was more, Trifina responded with no less fervour.

Bleidbara was turning for the door when Fidelma realised she had to act. The only place of concealment was a small recess not far away. It would be useless if the warrior turned in her direction. Thankfully, he chose the opposite direction and vanished through a door at the far end of the corridor. Fidelma waited a moment, her mind already made up, and hurried after him.

The door gave access to a small ante-room leading into a tiny yard and then a pathway that wound down to the eastern shore of the island, a long strip of white sand in a curving bay.

The warrior moved quickly down this path, oblivious to Fidelma coming up behind him. At the bottom, on the shore, two men were awaiting him. Fidelma spotted them just before they glanced up to see Bleidbara coming towards them. She had already crouched down behind a bush before they did so. She could hear a cheery greeting and the warrior answering. Then she peered carefully around the bush. All three were walking across the sandy beach towards a small rowing boat, by which another man stood. Bleidbara and one other man climbed in while the remaining two men pushed it out into the water and scrambled in as it rose on the waves.

It was only then that Fidelma realised there was a large ship at anchor in the bay to which the men were now heading, two of them hauling at the oars as the boat bobbed its way over the waters. The ship was a large wooden sailing vessel. It was painted black from bow to stern with the exception of the jutting spar and bow timber. These were a deep orange in colour that made the vessel appear very sinister. Fidelma’s eyes rose to the white flag flying from the masthead — a large white flag with the image of a bird on it…the image of a dove.

She gave a sharp intake of breath and was about to move forward to gain a better view when she was aware of a soft footfall behind her.

She pivoted round, rising automatically.

Trifina was standing regarding her with an amused expression. Behind her stood one of her guards, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.