[Nurumaiel]

Lord Korak paced restlessly up and down, scowling darkly here and there, kicking at the rugs, and releasing his anger in any other way he found possible. His mother did not flinch when his fist came down heavily upon a table he passed, but she sat gazing at him with eyes full of sorrow, and she was as still as a stone, save her hands, which fumbled at the folds of her clothing. He cast a look at her face once, and paused for the briefest moment at her sad and gentle face, and he felt some regret at her unhappiness. A memory of sitting by her knee and letting her hand stroke his hair flitted through his mind, but he rallied himself and scowled at how sentimental she was, and he continued his pacing.

There was a silence, and then he stopped and flung his arms in the air in complete abandonment to frustration. "What a family I am cursed with!" he cried. His mother did flinch this time, and he felt a quick pang of anger towards his own self for having said such a thing in her presence. "I do not mean you, Mother," he said, hastily, and moving towards her to take her hand. "I speak of the Lady Arshalous. She has no other aim in life but to torment me with her sharp words and cunning glances. She has injured me, she has injured my most trustworthy servant, and she has injured you, too, my mother, for I see the lines of sorrow upon your face."

Lady Hababa stroked her son's hand with great tenderness. "Oh, son, my injuries are inflicted by you, not by her," she murmured.

He drew himself up stiffly, and said sharply: "What do you mean, Mother? What have I done to harm you?"

"Truly do you speak when you say that I am pained by your cousin's behaviour towards you, but it pains me more to see my son speak bitter words and laugh in cruel mockery at the daughter of my sweet sister." A tear rose to her eye, but she did not brush it away, for with both hands now she had gripped his own, and she stared earnestly into his face. "It is hard, my son, so hard to live amongst those whose only pleasure is to harm those who should be nearest and dearest to them. Do you think I do not notice how much hate fills you? I grow old, son, but wiser and keener, and yet more prone to be wounded by foolish hatreds."

"Be that as it may, Mother," said Korak, and he pulled his hand away from her, "my cousin is a poisonous snake, and I cannot help but hate her who hates me." He saw that she opened her mouth to speak, so he moved quickly to the door, saying: "I intend to go out riding, Mother, and try to calm myself with the fresh air."

"You will return to me in a better mood, I hope," she said, but there was the smallest hint of a question in her words.

He stopped at the door, and felt much annoyance that she should suggest that his mood was ill, and he turned with a sharp reply upon his lips. But his eyes fell upon her face, and he saw not only the sorrow and weariness but the maternal love in her expression, and so he replied, though with reluctance: "Yes, Mother." And then he left the room. She bowed her head and let the tear in her eye fall.

Morashk was skulking about just outside the door, and the Lord Korak turned on him with a scowl, for he had been taken by surprise by the figure hiding in the shadows. "I am going out riding, Morashk," he said. "You will stay here and be carekeeper of this home while I am gone. If the Lady Arshalous calls, as she might to spite me, tell her I am away, and send her up to my mother."

Morashk grimaced at the mention of the cousin's name, and his long, clawlike fingers curled into fists. Yet he nodded smoothly to the order, and promised obedience to fulfill them. He followed his master through the halls of magnificent stonework, and then to the stables to help him prepare his steed. Lord Korak waved aside any assistance, and saddled his horse himself, and likewise refused help to mount. He directed his mount away from the city and towards the country-land, and averted his face so it could not be seen by his servant when he said: "Morashk, I also bid you watch after my mother, and take care that she does not grow too lonely." And then he spurred his horse, and rode hard away from his home and away from his city.