It was indescribable. She felt claustrophobic and safe at the same time.
"What kind of cave is this, Belgaer?" asked Astarael, their past argument forgotten. Ranna and Yrael, as usual, were scampering about, marveling in this "entry room", as Belgaer had called it.
"Not a cave, Astarael. The House. Courtesy of the nearby town's Elders, who are convinced we can't take care of ourselves because our joints can move." Astarael didn't even bother to ask what a town was. "One thing at a time," she reminded herself.
"Your elders usually know best, Belgaer," Astarael said sternly, recalling the last time Yrael had challenged her authority.
"We aren't like them, Astarael," Belgaer countered earnestly. Noticing her puzzled expression, he quickly added, "But more on that later. Are you comfortable representing your family?"
Astarael flashed an annoyed smirk. "Belgaer, that's what I've been doing for the past season. And anyway, I basically brought up Ranna and Yrael. Between making sure they were clean, fed, and safe, I've had little time for anything, especially nervousness."
She expected him to laugh, but instead he gave her a sad look that left her confused. "What was that supposed to mean?" she thought, thoroughly puzzled.
Belgaer cleared his throat importantly. "At the moment, there are only six of us. I'm hoping that you and our siblings will make it nine, but we'll have to see about that." He cleared his throat again, and made to speak, but she silenced him with her hand.
"Wait. You're meaning to tell me that you brought my family here possibly for no reason? You've led us on a journey-long season on a moot chase?" she asked, her voice taking on a dangerous edge. If there was one thing Astarael despised (well, one of the many things she despised), it was wasting time. "Just tell me what matters," she would often tell Ranna and Yrael.
Belgaer looked away, embarrassed. "Sorry, but you realize that it is easier for three to travel as opposed to six." He shrugged apologetically.
"Is there anything else I should know before meeting your friends?" she asked blandly.
Belgaer frowned. "Not friends. Associates. Mosrael and his sister, Kibeth, are fair-minded. You don't have anything to fear in them. Dyrim is, well, Dyrim. Extremely talkative, ambitious, snide… Not that nice of a person. But if you think Dyrim is a lot, the last two you won't be able to handle. Orannis and Saraneth… Orannis is smart underneath that skull of his, I'm sure of it. Saraneth uses his brain slightly more often- I'd say that out of the two of them, Saraneth is more valuable."
He began to move towards the opening in the wall (a door, she recalled Belgaer saying), but Astarael stopped him by grabbing his wrist.
"Do I get to know what they look like, at least?" She knew right away that she would have to appeal to Dyrim above all others, but if she accidentally began appealing to Kibeth instead of Dyrim, Dyrim probably wouldn't like her all that much.
Belgaer cast an unapproving eye over Astarael's animal skin shift, and then over Ranna and Yrael as they walked up to them, looking windswept from running around. "Perhaps we shouldn't focus on appearance," he suggested.
Ranna blushed, taking a correct guess on what they were talking about. She moved behind Astarael, finally acting more like herself. Yrael, in his loincloth and looking wholly unconcerned, pushed on the door and entered the chamber. Belgaer caught the door before it closed, and held it open for Astarael and Ranna. Astarael wouldn't have minded if he had acted rude like Yrael and went first. As she went through the door, Belgaer gave her a smile, which she returned weakly.
"Hurry up, then! We haven't got all day!" The shrill voice pierced the silence. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, Astarael could make up five figures sitting at a long wooden table. The effect was, overall, intimidating.
