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Old 01-13-2004, 10:07 PM   #49
Child of the 7th Age
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Sting

Thorn

Thorn watched with some discomfort as Ráma ran her hand lightly over the stallion's arched neck to offer him her private goodbyes and then headed through the stable door to the outside enclosure where she'd left Kyelek. Ráma's initial intention had been to spend several hours interrogating Falasmir's key trading agent for any clues on the latest developments at court and to see if he’d heard of any major changes in his master's plans. At the last moment, Thorn had managed to persuade Ráma that such a probing inquiry was far too risky, given the enigma of Wyrma's presence. The young Skingchanger had returned to the Cat's Paw to pack up her belongings and secure needed supplies for the trip, promising to make a brief appearance at the evening reception.

Relieved to put this conversation behind him, Thorn emerged from the stables and walked quickly over towards the wing of the palace where Falasmir and his chief advisors maintained their private offices. The Skinchanger veered off the public path in the gardens, pushing through a profusion of fragrant hanging blossoms in hues of purple and orange that were normally maintained by a phalanx of gardeners armed with an abundance of watering cans. He slipped inobtrusively inside a small wooden shed the staff used for storing gardening tools.

A few moments passed. A tiny scuffling noise suddenly sounded from underneath the door as a plump sand rat, not much bigger than a child’s hand, wriggled his way to freedom. The rodent scampered over to the building and, digging through the matted leaves and debris, uncovered a half-buried pipe that belonged to a system designed to carry water and garbage from the kitchens to a distant part of the grounds.

Thorn found the accustomed space between the outside and inside pipe, squeezed his body through the opening, and started to swim. He did not like the water, but the fragrant aroma of discarded vegetable marrows and rotting fruits hit him like a pleasant wave; he fought the temptation and paddled on. Coming to the kitchens, he skipped out of the pipe and immediately headed for the safety of the wall boards. A large broom narrowly missed his head as he ran towards a small hole in the wall tucked in a corner of a dark pantry.

This was indeed a foolhardy venture. Normally, he would have made such an expedition after dark. But he could not afford to wait till evening, since he needed the light of daytime to be able to read the documents he unearthed. He made a brief stop in Wyrma’s quarters, but found little of any interest. The woman was both obsessive and devious; every scrap of evidence had been destroyed or put in a locked box beyond the reach of a small sand rat. Continuing his trip behind the safety of the wall boards, Thorn finally came to the room where Falasmir kept his desk and papers. This particular place had yielded a wealth of information on prior occasions.

This time was no different. Falasmir’s desk was littered with a multitude of letters and directives that were piled up in disheveled heaps. Changing back into human form, Thorn ran over to the door and securely latched it, hoping that no one would disturb him. It was a terrible risk to take, but he had to look at the papers quickly, and this seemed the only practical way to do that. Leafing through the piles, Thorn was disappointed to discover that most of them were routine administrative orders concerned with the running of the estate. Nowhere was there any mention of Wyrma or the reason she had come to the palace.

Tired and exasperated, Thorn quickly slipped back into rat form and jumped down from the chair, landing in the middle of a container used for discarded papers. The basket toppled over and Thorn went sprawling, with a paper falling on top of his head. Exhibiting the natural instincts of a rat, he poked his head out and wrinkled his nose, noticing that the paper had definitely been in Falasmir’s hands in recent days. His curiosity aroused, Thorn managed to leap onto a nearby shelf so he could get a better look at the thing. It was obviously some kind of a letter, and was marked through with revisions in a number of places. It seemed to have nothing to do with Wyrma or the maenwaith, instead focusing on the deployment of two warships. The letter included references to the party from Gondor, some of whom were coming to the palace tonight. Reading it over, he shook his head in disgust.

Thorn did not wish ill on any man, and had no particular grudge against Gondor. But this was what happened when people were foolish enough to stray away from their own kin, and travel to places where they should not be! He filed the piece of information away in the back of his mind and turned to leave. He promised himself to go to Ráma later tonight to see if she had any better luck gathering information at the reception.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 12:02 AM January 14, 2004: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]
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