We quickly walked home, wedging through the scrambling crowds as quickly as possible. On the way, people asked my father what was happening, but he waved them off impatiently.
At last, we reached our quarters, where my mother and younger brother nervously awaited. I noticed two things about my mother that were different immediately. Dinner was not cooking and my mother now had a knife on her belt. I looked at my father, then back at my mother.
"What is happening?" My mother asked my father timidly.
"Nothing serious. Just a…inconvenience," my father lied.
"Inconvenience? Arya and the egg are missing! That is more then an inconvenience!" I bellowed at my father. I received a glare as a response.
"Well," my father said at last, breaking the ominous silence, "I must be off, there is much work to be done." He left, leaving me with my mother and brother.
"We should go make dinner," my mother said gently.
"I hate cooking," I snapped, "I am going to the sparring field."
"No, especially not now. The sparring yard will be full of soldiers at a time like this. You could get seriously hurt."
"Mother, I am a better fighter then them!"
"Girls don't fight! How many times must I tell you that? You are lucky that I even let you go to the sparring yard," She cried defiantly. "If your father knew that you go there, who knows what he might do!"
"Elvin girls fight! I wish I were an elf like Arya. She fights better then any man in the Varden."
"Well, fighting men didn't get her far did it?"
"I bet she is still alive somewhere. And I am going to go save her!" My mother laughed harshly.
"She is in Urû'baen. You will never save her. It can't be done by anyone, not even an elf." She spat out the last word like it was a curse. I glowered at my mother.
"I am going to my room," I told her, "I am not hungry." I raced to my room, flinging myself onto my thin pallet. I wanted to fight so much. I got up and retrieved from its hiding place.
I had won it years ago in a sparring contest. I had dressed up like a boy and entered under my brother's name. I had named the sword Adurna, which meant water. It was the only word that I knew in the ancient language. When I was younger, a magician had taught me some simple spell, including one that summoned water from the earth. The sword even looked like water, for it was an aqua blue with a diamond in the pommel. Wave-like designs were imprinted into the blade, and a line of ancient language runes ran along the handle.
I grabbed the sword's belt, sheathing the blade. I gathered up my traveling cloak and my travel pack, which I filled with all the money I had, which wasn't much, a pot and a pan that my mother had given me long ago, my bow and arrow, and a canteen. I would buy or steal anything else I needed.
Silently, I crept out my window and hastened out into the street of Farthen Dûr.
