08-29-2013, 07:39 PM
The Fetch and Master Svenson could sit atop their horses, staring up at my sister and I because the Sniders ringed them, swords bared and bloody. They were in turn ringed by fallen Men of the Coot three deep. It must not have pleased the Egg to send too many of his thralls to their doom that night.
“M’ladies,” Master Svenson said, in a baritone nearly as big as he was, “it would please your Father if you would return to the Castle with us.”
“And what would please you?” Lea asked.
“A night of carousing, free of nuisance, would be quite remarkable,” Master Svenson said.
“Do you think he means us?” Lea asked me. She asked her question again as the Fetch helped her from the roofline. Old and gangly as he was, he was still very strong, like all the Men of the North.
Master Fletcher chuckled. “Only the Great Svenny would refer to a swarm of invaders attempting to lay siege to his King’s castle ‘a nuisance.’”
The Great Svenny did not seem such a fearsome warrior as he helped me from the roof, gentle as could be. He settled the folds of his cloak over me, then snapped the reins and shouted a command. The Sniders wheeled their mounts, forming a wedge and cut a path up the trail to the castle.
The Fetch galloped after us, Lea behind him on Jek’s withers.
“That didn’t answer my question!” she shouted, to be heard above the thundering hooves.
Father was not angry with us. He was furious. How could we be so careless? (We were not. We cared deeply for Father. Why else would we go to such trouble to bring him his Nameday gift?) How could we cause him to worry so? (He needn’t worry about us. The Men of the Egg practically ignored us.) What would he do, he asked us, if something happened to us? (Nothing happened to us, so he need do nothing.)
It was times like this, Mother said, that we must be meek. Our appearance was one that seemed to elicit some sort of protective response in most Men of the North. Something about ‘Ladyship’ and ‘honor.’ It baffled Lea and I. We wore the guises that Father expected of us, that of mortals perhaps a little over a decade old, though such spans of time really had no meaning to my sister and I.
Khoronus’ curse touched us differently than both Men or Mother’s kind. Though we were not entirely bereft of time’s ravages, Lea and I moved through it much, much more slowly than mortal folk. [Thorn notes: “It is unknown how much of the twins’ timelessness is due to their fey nature, the tampering done to them at the City of the Gods, and the countless bouts of cold sleep nestled in the Throne of Stars. Silva — Her Imperial Majesty — is well over four thousand years old, yet she appears to have only aged but a few years in the nearly eighty that I have known her.”]
“M’ladies,” Master Svenson said, in a baritone nearly as big as he was, “it would please your Father if you would return to the Castle with us.”
“And what would please you?” Lea asked.
“A night of carousing, free of nuisance, would be quite remarkable,” Master Svenson said.
“Do you think he means us?” Lea asked me. She asked her question again as the Fetch helped her from the roofline. Old and gangly as he was, he was still very strong, like all the Men of the North.
Master Fletcher chuckled. “Only the Great Svenny would refer to a swarm of invaders attempting to lay siege to his King’s castle ‘a nuisance.’”
The Great Svenny did not seem such a fearsome warrior as he helped me from the roof, gentle as could be. He settled the folds of his cloak over me, then snapped the reins and shouted a command. The Sniders wheeled their mounts, forming a wedge and cut a path up the trail to the castle.
The Fetch galloped after us, Lea behind him on Jek’s withers.
“That didn’t answer my question!” she shouted, to be heard above the thundering hooves.
Father was not angry with us. He was furious. How could we be so careless? (We were not. We cared deeply for Father. Why else would we go to such trouble to bring him his Nameday gift?) How could we cause him to worry so? (He needn’t worry about us. The Men of the Egg practically ignored us.) What would he do, he asked us, if something happened to us? (Nothing happened to us, so he need do nothing.)
It was times like this, Mother said, that we must be meek. Our appearance was one that seemed to elicit some sort of protective response in most Men of the North. Something about ‘Ladyship’ and ‘honor.’ It baffled Lea and I. We wore the guises that Father expected of us, that of mortals perhaps a little over a decade old, though such spans of time really had no meaning to my sister and I.
Khoronus’ curse touched us differently than both Men or Mother’s kind. Though we were not entirely bereft of time’s ravages, Lea and I moved through it much, much more slowly than mortal folk. [Thorn notes: “It is unknown how much of the twins’ timelessness is due to their fey nature, the tampering done to them at the City of the Gods, and the countless bouts of cold sleep nestled in the Throne of Stars. Silva — Her Imperial Majesty — is well over four thousand years old, yet she appears to have only aged but a few years in the nearly eighty that I have known her.”]
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