Fall of Angels

XLVI

IN HER GREEN tunic and trousers, her hair bound back in a green and black enameled hairband, Zeldyan steps into the tower room. After closing the door, she bows deeply to the lady Ellindyja. “Honor and greetings to you, lady.”

“You are now the Lady of Lornth, and I am honored,” answers Ellindyja. She does not rise from the cushioned bench in the alcove, but lowers the embroidery hoop to her lap. “Your grace in coming to visit so soon shows great respect for your lord, and I am pleased to see that.”

“I respect Sillek, more than most would ever know. You are my consort’s mother, and, out of my deep respect for him, always to be honored and respected,” says Zeldyan, inclining her head to Ellindyja again.

“I am so pleased to be included in your respects, dear, especially since your mother has always been one of my dearest friends.” Ellindyja knots the yellow-green thread with deft motions, and takes up the needle.

“She would count you among her dearest and most trusted friends,” answers Zeldyan, stepping toward the alcove where Sillek’s mother begins an embroidered leaf on the white linen. “And a wise woman.”

“Wise? I would think not,” says Ellindyja as the needlecompletes another loop of green comprising the leaf. “For my son has less of his heritage than his father.”

“I am confident that situation will change, my lady, and that the greatness of Lornth will increase.”

“With enemies on three sides, Lady Zeldyan?”

“While I would certainly defer to those who understand arms and other weapons far better than I do, I have great faith in my lord Sillek.” Zeldyan pauses. “And great faith that you will offer counsel to him.”

“I have always attempted to be of service to the Lords of Lornth, to his father, and to Sillek.” Ellindyja completes the small leaf, knots the thread, and rethreads the needle with crimson.

The faint whine of the late fall wind rattles the closed tower window, but neither woman looks to it.

“And you have,” responds Zeldyan. “You surely have.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Ellindyja knots the crimson thread and makes the first stitch in the small segment of the linen that will be a drop of blood. “I understand that your father has remained here in Lornth for a time.”

“He plans to leave for Carpa tomorrow, now that he has seen me safely joined to Sillek.”

“And your mother?”

“She will arrive to see you presently. I prevailed upon her to allow me a few moments with you to convey my respects.”

“You know, my dear, Sillek may have been even wiser than I had thought. Together we might be of great assistance to him.” The crimson stitches bring the hint of arterial blood to the linen.

“My lord Sillek respects you greatly, Lady Ellindyja, and I would prefer not to intrude upon that bond or that trust. I would be most happy for any and all advice that you might have.”

“As I said, Lady Zeldyan, Sillek chose wisely.” Ellindyja’s voice is dry, but she holds the needle still for a moment. “I would trust that you might pay some heed to the possibility of ensuring the succession of Lornth.”

Zeldyan bows slightly. “I would like nothing better, my lady.”

A muffled thrap sounds on the door.

“That would be your mother, I presume?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“If you would be so kind as to bid her enter?” Ellindyja’s needle flashes again as Zeldyan steps toward the door.

“But, of course. She has looked forward to seeing you for some seasons.” Zeldyan smiles and opens the door.

“Cakes and sweets should be arriving shortly,” announces Ellindyja, “for the three of us. I had hoped we might converse.” She stands and sets aside the embroidery hoop. “Erenthla!”

The heavier white-haired woman bends forward and brushes Zeldyan’s cheek with her lips before stepping fully into the room and responding. “Ellindyja, I am so pleased to see you.”

Zeldyan closes the door and, with a faint smile, stands, waiting.