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Old 04-05-2006, 01:01 PM   #190
JennyHallu
The Pearl, The Lily Maid
 
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Linduial drew a fine line down her paper to mark the last wall, and rose, pointedly ignoring Larswic playing with the Knucklebones. She played no games of chance: her father had always taught her it was unlady-like, but she could see Garwine across the yard intently watching the man, and she hoped the quiet and polite man-at-arms would not lose much money to the brute.

She was aware that her opinion of the man was based on very little, and as like undeserved as anything else, but something about the combination of the man's careful observation and leering expression minded her of the cunning of a beast. The boys accompanying him seemed well enough--but boys, interested in weapons and horses and boys' games, and they held little fascination for her. Their--father? master? made her nervous, and that was enough to unfavorably color her impression of the whole crew.

She decided the ink was dry enough, and rolled the paper up tightly, securing it with a scrap of ribbon, before standing, stretching her arms behind her, ran it into the building and upstairs to her room. She dropped it off quickly and once again stepped outside, but this time into the front courtyard of the Inn, attracted by the sound of every-day hustle and bustle. A pleasant-looking man was climbing down off a broken cart, eyeing the ruin of the hall with intelligent interest in his eyes, and conversing almost shyly with Saeryn and Eodwine. Linduial caught a glimpse of two small faces grinning impudently at her from under the canvas covering the back of the wagon, and grinned back with answering youthful mischief.

A tall draft-horse still stood in halter, waiting patiently for someone to tend to him, and Lin wondered where Léof was. He was usually immediately available when a horse needed care, appearing almost by magic at one's elbow, courteously reaching for the reins before a guest could even think of looking after his own beast. She hoped that he was all right, but did not worry about it over-much. She had seen him helping Eodwine digging in the rubble, and assumed he might have twisted his ankle or fallen in that mess easily, and no worse.

Degas was walking to the party from the stables, carrying a lead-rope, and set about the work of caring for the horse without a word of complaint or question. Lin amused herself by surreptitiously making strange faces at the children in the cart, who periodically disappeared underneath the cover, giggling, but out of the corner of her eye she was discreetly watching Degas, and the way his muscles played on his arms and back under his light shirt as he manhandled the broken cart out of the horse's way and gently led the beast into the stable.
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