[Nurumaiel]

The Lord Korak glowered at the door. How he hated his cousin, how he hated her! It was well that she had come to see him. At his own home he felt some power, but when at her dwelling-place he had some reason to fear. She had been afraid of him, and when he thought of this the scowl was swept off his face and replaced with a cruelly content smile. She had feared poison in the wine, odd as that was, for he had told her there was none. Yet she did not trust him. She had twisted her goblet in her fingers, looked down into it, brought it to her lips, but had never sipped from it, not until the end. The parting blow, she thought her words were. All the hateful things he wanted to say were contained in the bitterness of that wine, without him saying something that might hurt him. "Bitter wine, my Lady cousin?" he said, and he took up his own goblet. "For you, yes. But only for you."

Morashk crept into the room, and he pressed into his master's hands a package wrapped with fine red cloth and twined and bound with gold. Lord Korak took it, and he looked approvingly at it. "The Princess will be well-pleased with her gift," he said. "Now, Morashk, I trust my mother is preparing herself, and I trust also that you have chosen a fitting outfit for me?"

"All that you ask has been done," said Morashk. He moved to the table and began to clear it of the goblets, and he saw that the Lady's cup was not full. So she had actually sipped from it, despite her fears. He hoped that she, riding home this moment, was pale and fearful, wondering if there was indeed a poison, slow to take effect. He smiled with delighted malice at the thought.

Lord Korak ordered for good wine to be brought to him, and he departed from the room that still bore the ill presence of his cousin. He went to his own room, still lighted only by the fire, and inspected the clothing of rich blue, embroidered with gold. It would do well enough. The gold twine was taken from his beard, and the dark hair combed out, and then re-braided with greater care, and with better and more gold. He let his hair fall loose, and he put on his banquet outfit, and then Morashk entered. The servant braided his master's hair with great care and skill, for that was always his task, on account of Lord Korak demanding perfection at least and being unable to ably braid his own by reaching over to the back of his head. Gold was braided there, too, and the Lord Korak surveyed himself in the mirror. He turned, and, going to his wardrobe, selected a cloak of deep yellow, and Morashk arranged it about his shoulders. And then, thus prepared, he sat back on his couch with the goblet of good wine in his hand, taking care not to disarrange his clothes, and he sent Morashk to bring his mother.

When his servant went, the silence drew upon him and led his mind to think of what had just occurred. The Lady Arshalous was a horrid little thing, and she had been since she was a child. They had always hated each other. Or, no, perhaps not. Where had it begun? The day his father had died, when he was only a very small child. He had been full of sorrow that day, though he had long-since forgotten his father, and his sorrow had been manifested in anger. The Lady Arshalous was always annoying, but she had been thrice so that day, and had teased and mocked until Korak could bear it no longer. He tore the bits of fake jewelry, that she as a child wore, from her wrists and from her throat, and pulled at her hair, and called her names, and she had never recovered from it, though long ago she had forgotten why she hated her cousin. Or, at least, this was why Lord Korak hated his cousin. He could not say how it was for her, and when her hatred began. More than likely from the first moment she set eyes on him, she was such a spiteful creature. How he wished he could pull her hair now, and tear her jewels away.

Oh, and poor Morashk, for he...

But his thoughts were interrupted then, for the door opened and a slender, pretty little maid slipped in, her hands clasped before her and her eyes meekly on the stonework. He glanced at her, and turned his eyes to the door again, for his mother entered. Her once-beautiful skin was wrinkled, her rich, luxuriant dark hair had turned grey and was flecked with white, her light girlish step was replaced with a weary one, but she held herself tall and was beautiful still. Korak rose, and crossed the room, and gently kissed his mother's cheek, for he could not help but love her, despite that he thought her foolish and sentimental. Her large brown eyes, shadowed with many sorrows, looked up into his face, and she spoke, saying: "I heard voices, my dear one. Who were you speaking with?"

"My Lady cousin paid a short visit," said Korak.

"Your words were bitter?"

"There were as they ever are, Mother," said Lord Korak, and a sigh burst from her and she shook her head sadly.

"Remember at least, dear son, that she is the daughter of the sister I loved very much," she said.

"Yes, Mother," said Lord Korak, but he laughed inwardly. How sentimental of his mother! It mattered not to him whether the Lady cousin were a relative or not. All that mattered was that they hated each other, and that he sought to avoid her whilst seeking her out to hurt her in any manner possible.

"The horses are saddled, m'Lord," said Morashk, his pale face peering around the doorway.

"And yours too, I hope, fool," Lord Korak growled.

"Yes, my Lord," said Morashk, with some sauciness in his tone.

"What an impudent servant!" cried Korak, in frustration. "He has assumed that he will be permitted to come to a banquet at the King's Palace! It is well for him that he is so useful, or I should be rid of him. I could send him to my Lady cousin."

"That would be cruel to him," said the mother.

Lord Korak put his hand on her back and turned her about, and they moved away, with the little maid following behind. They went out into the cold air, where Morashk stood waiting with two horses, and two more of a smaller kind, though not quite ponies. Lord Korak helped his mother upon her small steed, and with a grunt of reluctance assisted the maid, with a scowl at Morashk, who was already upon his mount. Then he mounted into his own saddle, and, by his mother's side, led the little company in the direction of the Palace, where lights shone and the soft strains of music played.

The banquet was beginning.