THE GATHERING: II -- KEMUEL
Kemuel stared at the ashen-faced girl lying motionless on the ground. That folder bore the messenger's brand, unmistakably. He pulled on his hair in frustration. What a dreadful mistake! He turned at Borah. "Do something!" he hissed. Borah stammered an apology. "She's hungry, you imbecile, can't you see?"
Borah quickly retreated to get some blood, mumbling "how could I know," in his low monotone voice.
"Well, look at her," Kemuel yelled after him, his voice high with desperation, "she can't be over a night old!"
"Bree months," the girl's lips bubbled. Kemuel began to laugh.
"Three months. Oh, that's wonderful. Three months and they send you off with a message to Lord Raziel? All saints on a stick, is this a joke?" Borah returned with a jug. Kemuel poured the blood, freshly drawn apparently, into an earthen cup and pulled the girl up straight so he could feed it to her. She took the cup greedily and drained it. Then she held it out for a refill, without even wiping her mouth.
.
As Kemuel poured her a second cup, he began to lecture her, a cold cynicism in his voice. "Just so you know for the future, it is customary for messengers to bear that sign where people can see it. High up in the air, usually." She nodded fearfully, looking at him from over her cup. "And while we're discussing customs, we generally take the front gate to get inside this place."
"Yes, my lord," she answered meekly, looking down into her empty cup. Kemuel refilled it for her, then stood up, putting the jug on the table.
"Borah, take her..." He ran a hand through his short red hair, trying to work out what to do first. "Let her wash... no, how much haste is needed?" He turned to the girl again.
"It must be delivered immediately," she said breathlessly. Now that she didn't fear for her life anymore, the importance of her mission seemed to return to her.
"Right, she'll just have to come like this then. Follow me." He strode off towards the steps. "Borah!" he called behind him, and Borah dragged the girl to her feet and made her follow.
.
In the hallway leading to the Lord's chambers they met Adoile, the stunning young vampire who currently fulfilled the role of the Lord's personal servant.
"Adoile, is the Master in?" Kemuel demanded.
"In his private library --"
"There is a messenger carrying a most urgent letter," he interrupted. She nodded, surprised, and indicated the door. He opened it and hastily crossed the room, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. With some trepidation, he knocked on the library door. Adoile nodded at him to go in, so he did.
Lord Raziel looked up from his book, a small volume bound in leather. He was lounging on a low seat, but got to his feet immediately to greet his visitor. His movements were without haste, yet swift; he carried himself with the effortless grace of true nobility.
"Kemuel," he said, his tone at once calm and alert.
"My Lord." Kemuel bowed hastily. "A messenger, hailing from the clan of Rahab. The matter is... rather pressing."
He gestured behind him and Borah led the girl into the room. She looked frightened, disheveled, still trying to keep her bodice together with one hand, while the other clutched the letter. Although the cuts had healed, the dried blood on the back of her hand still witnessed her mistreatment.
"My Lord." She curtsied deeply. "My mistress Demera hails you. She told me to show this to you only." Bowing her head, she held out the letter.
Without taking a step closer, Lord Raziel raised his hand and made the letter fly towards him. He caught it and opened it in one smooth gesture. The girl messenger stared at him with undisguised admiration. In fact, her mouth was hanging open. Kemuel smiled. His Lord often had that effect on people, especially if they were female.
.
Lord Raziel finished reading the letter and commented, "this is a pressing matter indeed. Please wait outside," he told the messenger, "I shall answer your mistress immediately."
Borah dutifully manoeuvred the girl out of the small library, and Kemuel followed, but was called back from the threshold.
"Kemuel."
Kemuel's spirit sank. The tone in his Master's voice was one that demanded an explanation. He closed the door behind him and turned back to his Lord.
"Yes, Lord?"
"What exactly happened to that poor woman?" Raziel had moved to the desk in a corner of the room, and took out ink and a quill. Kemuel was forced to address his back.
"We mistook her for a spy, my Lord. It was a most unfortunate mistake, we would never -- " His Lord silenced him with a hand gesture.
"Just tell me, is it our custom to play noughts and crosses on the backs of spies' hands?"
Kemuel's hope sank even further. "No, sire," he answered, crestfallen.
"Pity," said Raziel, "I thought it was rather amusing." Finally he looked up and half a smile broke on his lips. Kemuel breathed more easily and stammered another apology. Again he was silenced with a hand-gesture.
"Come look at this, Kemuel. It is quite serious."
Kemuel walked over to his Lord and was given the letter to study, as well as the crude map that had come with it. The contents surprised him, but he waited for his sire to finish his short note in reply before voicing his disbelief.
"The Rahabim plan to attack our keep?"
"It seems so," the Lord answered perfectly calmly. He folded the letter closed, and sealed it with wax. Kemuel was puzzled. Was he being tested?
"Do you not think it is some kind of trick, my Lord? To lure us out?" Lord Raziel pressed the face of a heavy metal seal into the warm wax, and shook his head. "Do you know this lady -- "
"Demera." Raziel finished. "Yes, I met her at the Sanctuary a number of years ago. We... spent some time together." Kemuel nodded.
"Ah."
.
His Lord put the note into the leather messenger's folder, stood up and opened the door. Kemuel studied the map of Darheim again, trying to decipher the notes scrawled in the margins. If his sire really wanted to know his opinion on the matter, he had better have one. He heard the door behind him close again.
"Kemuel, inform Sir Marius and Sophia of this situation, and let them deal with it as they see fit. Make haste though, the Rahabim doubtlessly mean to attack in the evening."
"My Lord," Kemuel said, meeting his Master's eye, "Marius and Sophia are out searching for those murderers. Many of our knights are."
"Damn it!" his Lord exclaimed. He sat down on the bench where he had been reading. Kemuel still lingered at the writing-desk, the map in his hand. "Is Harald here?" Raziel asked.
"No, my Lord." He waited as his Master stared out of the high window for a long moment, no doubt considering his options. The most experienced of the Razelim warriors were out, that was true. But Kemuel knew the troops better than his Lord did, and he felt an attack on Darheim was still possible, if the Rahabim were truly hiding there. It took him a while to work up the courage, but in the end he saw no harm in suggesting it.
"My Lord? If I may be so bold," he began, carefully, but trying to make his voice carry conviction, "I think this would be an opportunity for some of our younger warriors to prove their worth. If we attack during the day, and take the Rahabim by surprise... We have enough talent to lead the divisions. I could recommend a few men that I think would meet the challenge." Lord Raziel looked at him, frowning, considering this. Kemuel could feel his heart beating in his chest; if the Master would take his advice on this, it could improve his reputation by a considerable margin, as long as the attack went well, of course. He could not suppress a proud smile when his Lord nodded.
"Very well, Kemuel, I will leave the matter in your hands. Choose your leaders for the divisions, and take all the men you think you'll need." Kemuel's blood roared with excitement. This was more than he had dared hope for. It was a risk, but the rewards would be worth it. "Hit them where it hurts, Kemuel," his Lord continued, hard-voiced. "This conflict is getting out of hand. Capture their leaders if you can, drive off the others. Kill if you can. I shall not tolerate an army on my doorstep." Kemuel bowed.
"My Lord. I will not disappoint you."
Kemuel stared at the ashen-faced girl lying motionless on the ground. That folder bore the messenger's brand, unmistakably. He pulled on his hair in frustration. What a dreadful mistake! He turned at Borah. "Do something!" he hissed. Borah stammered an apology. "She's hungry, you imbecile, can't you see?"
Borah quickly retreated to get some blood, mumbling "how could I know," in his low monotone voice.
"Well, look at her," Kemuel yelled after him, his voice high with desperation, "she can't be over a night old!"
"Bree months," the girl's lips bubbled. Kemuel began to laugh.
"Three months. Oh, that's wonderful. Three months and they send you off with a message to Lord Raziel? All saints on a stick, is this a joke?" Borah returned with a jug. Kemuel poured the blood, freshly drawn apparently, into an earthen cup and pulled the girl up straight so he could feed it to her. She took the cup greedily and drained it. Then she held it out for a refill, without even wiping her mouth.
.
As Kemuel poured her a second cup, he began to lecture her, a cold cynicism in his voice. "Just so you know for the future, it is customary for messengers to bear that sign where people can see it. High up in the air, usually." She nodded fearfully, looking at him from over her cup. "And while we're discussing customs, we generally take the front gate to get inside this place."
"Yes, my lord," she answered meekly, looking down into her empty cup. Kemuel refilled it for her, then stood up, putting the jug on the table.
"Borah, take her..." He ran a hand through his short red hair, trying to work out what to do first. "Let her wash... no, how much haste is needed?" He turned to the girl again.
"It must be delivered immediately," she said breathlessly. Now that she didn't fear for her life anymore, the importance of her mission seemed to return to her.
"Right, she'll just have to come like this then. Follow me." He strode off towards the steps. "Borah!" he called behind him, and Borah dragged the girl to her feet and made her follow.
.
In the hallway leading to the Lord's chambers they met Adoile, the stunning young vampire who currently fulfilled the role of the Lord's personal servant.
"Adoile, is the Master in?" Kemuel demanded.
"In his private library --"
"There is a messenger carrying a most urgent letter," he interrupted. She nodded, surprised, and indicated the door. He opened it and hastily crossed the room, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. With some trepidation, he knocked on the library door. Adoile nodded at him to go in, so he did.
Lord Raziel looked up from his book, a small volume bound in leather. He was lounging on a low seat, but got to his feet immediately to greet his visitor. His movements were without haste, yet swift; he carried himself with the effortless grace of true nobility.
"Kemuel," he said, his tone at once calm and alert.
"My Lord." Kemuel bowed hastily. "A messenger, hailing from the clan of Rahab. The matter is... rather pressing."
He gestured behind him and Borah led the girl into the room. She looked frightened, disheveled, still trying to keep her bodice together with one hand, while the other clutched the letter. Although the cuts had healed, the dried blood on the back of her hand still witnessed her mistreatment.
"My Lord." She curtsied deeply. "My mistress Demera hails you. She told me to show this to you only." Bowing her head, she held out the letter.
Without taking a step closer, Lord Raziel raised his hand and made the letter fly towards him. He caught it and opened it in one smooth gesture. The girl messenger stared at him with undisguised admiration. In fact, her mouth was hanging open. Kemuel smiled. His Lord often had that effect on people, especially if they were female.
.
Lord Raziel finished reading the letter and commented, "this is a pressing matter indeed. Please wait outside," he told the messenger, "I shall answer your mistress immediately."
Borah dutifully manoeuvred the girl out of the small library, and Kemuel followed, but was called back from the threshold.
"Kemuel."
Kemuel's spirit sank. The tone in his Master's voice was one that demanded an explanation. He closed the door behind him and turned back to his Lord.
"Yes, Lord?"
"What exactly happened to that poor woman?" Raziel had moved to the desk in a corner of the room, and took out ink and a quill. Kemuel was forced to address his back.
"We mistook her for a spy, my Lord. It was a most unfortunate mistake, we would never -- " His Lord silenced him with a hand gesture.
"Just tell me, is it our custom to play noughts and crosses on the backs of spies' hands?"
Kemuel's hope sank even further. "No, sire," he answered, crestfallen.
"Pity," said Raziel, "I thought it was rather amusing." Finally he looked up and half a smile broke on his lips. Kemuel breathed more easily and stammered another apology. Again he was silenced with a hand-gesture.
"Come look at this, Kemuel. It is quite serious."
Kemuel walked over to his Lord and was given the letter to study, as well as the crude map that had come with it. The contents surprised him, but he waited for his sire to finish his short note in reply before voicing his disbelief.
"The Rahabim plan to attack our keep?"
"It seems so," the Lord answered perfectly calmly. He folded the letter closed, and sealed it with wax. Kemuel was puzzled. Was he being tested?
"Do you not think it is some kind of trick, my Lord? To lure us out?" Lord Raziel pressed the face of a heavy metal seal into the warm wax, and shook his head. "Do you know this lady -- "
"Demera." Raziel finished. "Yes, I met her at the Sanctuary a number of years ago. We... spent some time together." Kemuel nodded.
"Ah."
.
His Lord put the note into the leather messenger's folder, stood up and opened the door. Kemuel studied the map of Darheim again, trying to decipher the notes scrawled in the margins. If his sire really wanted to know his opinion on the matter, he had better have one. He heard the door behind him close again.
"Kemuel, inform Sir Marius and Sophia of this situation, and let them deal with it as they see fit. Make haste though, the Rahabim doubtlessly mean to attack in the evening."
"My Lord," Kemuel said, meeting his Master's eye, "Marius and Sophia are out searching for those murderers. Many of our knights are."
"Damn it!" his Lord exclaimed. He sat down on the bench where he had been reading. Kemuel still lingered at the writing-desk, the map in his hand. "Is Harald here?" Raziel asked.
"No, my Lord." He waited as his Master stared out of the high window for a long moment, no doubt considering his options. The most experienced of the Razelim warriors were out, that was true. But Kemuel knew the troops better than his Lord did, and he felt an attack on Darheim was still possible, if the Rahabim were truly hiding there. It took him a while to work up the courage, but in the end he saw no harm in suggesting it.
"My Lord? If I may be so bold," he began, carefully, but trying to make his voice carry conviction, "I think this would be an opportunity for some of our younger warriors to prove their worth. If we attack during the day, and take the Rahabim by surprise... We have enough talent to lead the divisions. I could recommend a few men that I think would meet the challenge." Lord Raziel looked at him, frowning, considering this. Kemuel could feel his heart beating in his chest; if the Master would take his advice on this, it could improve his reputation by a considerable margin, as long as the attack went well, of course. He could not suppress a proud smile when his Lord nodded.
"Very well, Kemuel, I will leave the matter in your hands. Choose your leaders for the divisions, and take all the men you think you'll need." Kemuel's blood roared with excitement. This was more than he had dared hope for. It was a risk, but the rewards would be worth it. "Hit them where it hurts, Kemuel," his Lord continued, hard-voiced. "This conflict is getting out of hand. Capture their leaders if you can, drive off the others. Kill if you can. I shall not tolerate an army on my doorstep." Kemuel bowed.
"My Lord. I will not disappoint you."