The news of Huan’s poisoning came to him in an indirect way. Closeted in his office with stacks of contracts and letters to be gone through, he would have missed it altogether, save that he had asked a page to bring him a light lunch from the kitchen later in the day. The meal lay now on his desk, uneaten, as he listened to the boy’s report of the happenings.
White faced, lips trembling, the boy tripped over his words, and it was only with much coaxing that the story was gotten out of him. Someone had poisoned the meal sent to the King’s heir at midday. No, the heir had not been taken ill by the food. His dog had eaten it and now lay dying, if not dead from the effects of it. No, no one had seen who had done this, or recalled who had fixed the plate for the heir. Yes, as far as he knew, the guard had been increased around the heir.
Gaeradan’s first impulse was to make for the boy’s room, but he held back. There would be plenty of people there to see to the boy, he would be only one more body in the press. A few moments of reflection and his course was decided. The King would be busy with the news, and of late he had been dismissive of his aide’s opinions.
Locking the papers he’d been working on in his desk drawer, Gaeradan made his way first to the kitchens to speak with Cook, and then to Tarciryan’s apartments. It was time to share what he had learned at The Gilded Gull with him. Perhaps the King’s brother could bring his suspicions to the King, and the King would listen.
[ September 27, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]
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‘Many are the strange chances of the world,’ said Mithrandir, ‘and help oft shall come from the hands of the weak when the Wise falter.’
– Gandalf in: The Silmarillion, 'Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age'
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