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Scyld
Scyld shrugged. “Curiosity – wondered if I should keep them in mind or not. I’ve no doubt Sorn would like to know... but I have no reason as yet to tell him.” He watched her for a moment more, still thinking about her impassioned outburst against Sorn. Her hatred of him – not surprising in itself, really, but the depth of it – that was a bit surprising, but good – good for him. It was time to let her know some things…
He looked her in the eye and spoke quietly and with feigned nonchalance; he had been an eavesdropper far too long not to give heed to being overheard himself. “I caught sight of Sorn with them the other day – admiring the knife, I think – and I know where they are… and how to get to them.” He watched her face as the implications of this settled in. “I know a lot of things that Sorn would probably rather I not knew – at least, things he would never tell me…” Scyld paused, still not sure how much she ought to be told. She would certainly want to know about Osfrid’s mission. Actually, presented in the right light, that would be the perfect thing to tell her. But first, he glanced around to make sure the door at the top of the stairs was closed. He had much more to fear from Sorn than any potential rescue party at the moment.
“For example,” he continued in the same deadly quiet tone, “perhaps you remember Osfrid? No matter. But Sorn has sent him and his lady friend on a mission to Edoras. He never told me why, but I could tell you.” He had gotten her attention now and was thoroughly enjoying drawing out the suspense. “He wants to find some weakness of yours… a person you wouldn’t want to see hurt.”
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