Chapter 2 - Cierwan. Yawp. I love that name. I am sorry Isobelle Carmody.
"Mitri, you never told me your wife was so beautiful!" Edward said over dinner. Myra blushed again, for the third time in his presence, and a flicker of jealousy passed over Mitri's face but was gone as soon as it had come. "Well," Mitri started, and then shoved a piece of food in his mouth, "it's really the only thing she's good for! And she's not my wife, yet." He said laughing. Edward's eyes flitted over to Myra and said shaking his head and laughing "Oh now! I am sure she is good at something, Myra?" He had said her name so casually but she felt a slight thrill at the way he pronounced it. She shook her head and both men laughed. She felt some one butt her knee and hoped that it would be Edward but as she looked down she saw that it was Mitri and he had that look in his eye.
As she was preparing to get ready for bed in the bathroom down the corridor, Edward came in. "Myra," he whispered, "I just want to apologise for this afternoon. If I had known you were to be." "Shhh," she cut him off, "You gave me something I would never have had with Mitri. For Mercy's Sake! I hate the man!" She stopped, realizing she had told this man she doesn't even know something nobody knows. He grinned. "MYRA! COME TO BE-EEEED!" Mitri sang out and she shuddered. "Mitri," she hissed, "you might wake our guest!" Edward grinned even further and departed. Sighing, she made her way to the master bedroom.
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Myra left her house and with a quick glance backwards stepped into the dark alley three houses down. It was midnight and well past the town's curfew. She shivered and pulled her shawl about her tighter. "Hello?" she whispered. "Are you Myra?" An old woman's voice croaked. Myra nodded then realised it was dark and who ever it was probably could not even see her. "Yes," she whispered, "Do you have what I asked for?" There was a soft cackle. "Of course, dearie, have you got the money?" The old woman stepped forward into the only light coming from a street lamp. Myra thrust her hand into her pocket and pulled out three KJ's. "Very well then, are you sure you want to go through with this?" "Yes. I'm sure." "A child is a precious gift, my girl, are you sure you want to cast it out?" The old woman held out a glass bottle filled with a brown-coloured liquid. "Of course I am sure otherwise I wouldn't be here. It's the best for the both of us. I will have plenty more opportunities to be with child, but right now is not the time. We will only be miserable! That is to say, the child and myself. Nobody deserves to be raised in a loveless home! " The old woman nodded her head knowingly and said "Very well, have it your way. Take this as soon as you get home and dispose of the bottle." Myra did not need to be told that but she gave the woman the KJ's, mumbled her thanks and left.
Back home, Myra sat at the kitchen table, her back to the door, and silently regarded the little, glass bottle. It was a plain, rectangular bottle with a cork stopper, not the sort to inspire romantic visions of a girl casting out the child of her ugly and cruel husband and a beautiful man to rescue her in case anything went wrong. say poisoning. Myra uncorked the bottle and swilled down the contents in one gulp. Oh this is putrid! Myra thought and threw the bottle in the bin. "Myra, what are you doing down here in this time of the night?" Myra turned to see Mitri standing in the door way with an accusatory look on his face. Does he know? Oh Mercy, if he knows..... "I was just getting a drink, I have a sore throat, you know?" His face creased up into a hideous smile. "Well, if that's all, hurry and come back to bed, will you? Your wifely duties have yet to be filled." And with that he left. "I'm not your wife yet," Myra mumbled.
**************************** Cierwan pushed his way through the bustling crowd, ignoring the dirty looks and silent curses he received in man handling people. He had something very important to do and he wasn't about to let the ignorant peasantry stop him. He did not dislike the peasants; it's just that they were naïve about important matters, which was the whole idea. If they knew what was really going on behind the palace gates, there would be trouble. These people loved their monarchical family and as with most people, did not like to see those they love be betrayed.
He had been ordered to stake out the palace and if possible, get inside, to understand the lay out of the rooms and the positions of the guards on duty. This order was essential. If he failed to be hired in the palace, with which he would surely get to know the palace like the back of his hand, then he would need this knowledge to help him to succeed in his task.
He arrived at the palace gates and peered inside, placing both hands on the gate railings. "Oi! You! Get your filthy peasant hands off the royal gate!" a guard bellowed. Cierwan smirked and departed he had resumed his peasant disguise. If they knew who he really was, he was sure that they would treat him with the utmost respect.
******************************
Prince Charmont looked out from his window to see a guard ordering a peasant man away. Sometimes he wondered if he could ever teach people that the peasants should be treated equally too. He turned and saw his father, King Jerric, discussing matters of state with his advisor, the young Lord Aganet, a man with dark features and a heavy set brow, who grimaced at something the King had said. "My liege, I strongly suggest postponing Prince Charmont's trip to Ayortha. We do not yet know if the Ayorthians are still friendly." " Still, of course they are, Aganet, the last letter I received from Ayortha assured me that everything was fine."
"But that's just what they want you to think. Your highness, please, I beg of you, this could be a trap!"
********************************
Cierwan sipped on his wine and regarded the array of multi coloured doublets. He was, of course, inconspicuous as ever, but this time he was disguised as a foreign noble man and in a sense, he was. He was foreign, and he was a noble man of sorts.
He slowly crept his way around the dandy-crowded room, till he came to find the man he was looking for. Count Luxenham. The man who was charged with the hiring of the court's clerks. "Good evening, Count Luxenham. My name is Sir Sergio de Vorsee and I come from Itchinka, a little known country, and I was wondering if you could take some time out of your busy schedule to talk to me. I believe I may be of good use in the court." Cierwan smiled. Too easy, these Kyrrians don't know anything about security.
*******************************
In this chapter where Mitri says "And she's not my wife yet," always reminds me of in 4 weddings and a funeral where the scene goes: Hugh: So how is you girlfriend blah? Man: Ahh she's no longer my girlfriend.
Hugh: Ahh well. A shame. Rumour has it she never stopped bonking old Toby de lar (that's what it sounds like) just in case it didn't work out. Man: She's now my wife.
"Mitri, you never told me your wife was so beautiful!" Edward said over dinner. Myra blushed again, for the third time in his presence, and a flicker of jealousy passed over Mitri's face but was gone as soon as it had come. "Well," Mitri started, and then shoved a piece of food in his mouth, "it's really the only thing she's good for! And she's not my wife, yet." He said laughing. Edward's eyes flitted over to Myra and said shaking his head and laughing "Oh now! I am sure she is good at something, Myra?" He had said her name so casually but she felt a slight thrill at the way he pronounced it. She shook her head and both men laughed. She felt some one butt her knee and hoped that it would be Edward but as she looked down she saw that it was Mitri and he had that look in his eye.
As she was preparing to get ready for bed in the bathroom down the corridor, Edward came in. "Myra," he whispered, "I just want to apologise for this afternoon. If I had known you were to be." "Shhh," she cut him off, "You gave me something I would never have had with Mitri. For Mercy's Sake! I hate the man!" She stopped, realizing she had told this man she doesn't even know something nobody knows. He grinned. "MYRA! COME TO BE-EEEED!" Mitri sang out and she shuddered. "Mitri," she hissed, "you might wake our guest!" Edward grinned even further and departed. Sighing, she made her way to the master bedroom.
***********************
Myra left her house and with a quick glance backwards stepped into the dark alley three houses down. It was midnight and well past the town's curfew. She shivered and pulled her shawl about her tighter. "Hello?" she whispered. "Are you Myra?" An old woman's voice croaked. Myra nodded then realised it was dark and who ever it was probably could not even see her. "Yes," she whispered, "Do you have what I asked for?" There was a soft cackle. "Of course, dearie, have you got the money?" The old woman stepped forward into the only light coming from a street lamp. Myra thrust her hand into her pocket and pulled out three KJ's. "Very well then, are you sure you want to go through with this?" "Yes. I'm sure." "A child is a precious gift, my girl, are you sure you want to cast it out?" The old woman held out a glass bottle filled with a brown-coloured liquid. "Of course I am sure otherwise I wouldn't be here. It's the best for the both of us. I will have plenty more opportunities to be with child, but right now is not the time. We will only be miserable! That is to say, the child and myself. Nobody deserves to be raised in a loveless home! " The old woman nodded her head knowingly and said "Very well, have it your way. Take this as soon as you get home and dispose of the bottle." Myra did not need to be told that but she gave the woman the KJ's, mumbled her thanks and left.
Back home, Myra sat at the kitchen table, her back to the door, and silently regarded the little, glass bottle. It was a plain, rectangular bottle with a cork stopper, not the sort to inspire romantic visions of a girl casting out the child of her ugly and cruel husband and a beautiful man to rescue her in case anything went wrong. say poisoning. Myra uncorked the bottle and swilled down the contents in one gulp. Oh this is putrid! Myra thought and threw the bottle in the bin. "Myra, what are you doing down here in this time of the night?" Myra turned to see Mitri standing in the door way with an accusatory look on his face. Does he know? Oh Mercy, if he knows..... "I was just getting a drink, I have a sore throat, you know?" His face creased up into a hideous smile. "Well, if that's all, hurry and come back to bed, will you? Your wifely duties have yet to be filled." And with that he left. "I'm not your wife yet," Myra mumbled.
**************************** Cierwan pushed his way through the bustling crowd, ignoring the dirty looks and silent curses he received in man handling people. He had something very important to do and he wasn't about to let the ignorant peasantry stop him. He did not dislike the peasants; it's just that they were naïve about important matters, which was the whole idea. If they knew what was really going on behind the palace gates, there would be trouble. These people loved their monarchical family and as with most people, did not like to see those they love be betrayed.
He had been ordered to stake out the palace and if possible, get inside, to understand the lay out of the rooms and the positions of the guards on duty. This order was essential. If he failed to be hired in the palace, with which he would surely get to know the palace like the back of his hand, then he would need this knowledge to help him to succeed in his task.
He arrived at the palace gates and peered inside, placing both hands on the gate railings. "Oi! You! Get your filthy peasant hands off the royal gate!" a guard bellowed. Cierwan smirked and departed he had resumed his peasant disguise. If they knew who he really was, he was sure that they would treat him with the utmost respect.
******************************
Prince Charmont looked out from his window to see a guard ordering a peasant man away. Sometimes he wondered if he could ever teach people that the peasants should be treated equally too. He turned and saw his father, King Jerric, discussing matters of state with his advisor, the young Lord Aganet, a man with dark features and a heavy set brow, who grimaced at something the King had said. "My liege, I strongly suggest postponing Prince Charmont's trip to Ayortha. We do not yet know if the Ayorthians are still friendly." " Still, of course they are, Aganet, the last letter I received from Ayortha assured me that everything was fine."
"But that's just what they want you to think. Your highness, please, I beg of you, this could be a trap!"
********************************
Cierwan sipped on his wine and regarded the array of multi coloured doublets. He was, of course, inconspicuous as ever, but this time he was disguised as a foreign noble man and in a sense, he was. He was foreign, and he was a noble man of sorts.
He slowly crept his way around the dandy-crowded room, till he came to find the man he was looking for. Count Luxenham. The man who was charged with the hiring of the court's clerks. "Good evening, Count Luxenham. My name is Sir Sergio de Vorsee and I come from Itchinka, a little known country, and I was wondering if you could take some time out of your busy schedule to talk to me. I believe I may be of good use in the court." Cierwan smiled. Too easy, these Kyrrians don't know anything about security.
*******************************
In this chapter where Mitri says "And she's not my wife yet," always reminds me of in 4 weddings and a funeral where the scene goes: Hugh: So how is you girlfriend blah? Man: Ahh she's no longer my girlfriend.
Hugh: Ahh well. A shame. Rumour has it she never stopped bonking old Toby de lar (that's what it sounds like) just in case it didn't work out. Man: She's now my wife.