*~*~*~*
Outside the castle, Maston and Arwing behind a home, watching the very same gate Emmaris had entered by. Kzahar, Lil, and Adrian had staked out a second gate in the high wall further around. It had been nearly an hour now, and Maston was getting anxious. He kept peeking around, waiting for the gate to swing open. He had already tried the latch; it was locked, and would need someone from the inside to open it. He hated having to rely on Emmaris. Despite everything, he still could not bring himself to trust the scholar or shake the fear that now that he was safe, he might sell out the rest of the group and get them all killed.
“He’ll come,” murmured Arwing, rubbing his arm.
Maston nodded, one hand caressing the hilt of his mace in his belt. “Oh, he better,” he replied softly.
Arwing sighed. Every muscle in his body was taut and ready to spring into action. She hated seeing him so tense and nervous, but she too felt the anxiety and fear. But there was nothing she could do to comfort him; her promises were empty, for she had no control over Emmaris either. She prayed silently that he would indeed show.
There was a noise from the wall. Maston snaked his head around and let out a great sigh of relief. He grabbed Arwing and dashed across the street, then slipped inside past the open gate. “Emmaris!” he burst out. “What took so long?”
“I needed to clean myself up,” Emmaris shrugged.
Maston looked him up and down. He was wearing a bright blue collared shirt, tucked into his fresh black trousers and belted at the waist. Gone was his scruffy beard, gone was the fear and weariness in his eyes. He looked at home again in the palace clothing; for the first time in weeks, he looked at ease. “Off to see the King?”
05-Jul-2008 19:31:58
