[Novnarwen]

Tarkan

The sight that met him, once inside the antechamber, was not exactly surprising, yet it was still highly uncomfortable. Tarkan had realised when closing the door that he had been just slightly harsh towards the boy, and perhaps he'd spoken too loudly. It had not been wise of him. Nothing that could make others believe him cruel and coarse was good; not if he were to succeed in life. He hoped the word of his strictness, or cruelty as some most likely would say, would not reach any others than those who had been present. However, knowing that gossip was a common interest amongst most of the people who worked here, and others, he knew he was being naïve; the word would spread and he would be accused for treating the boy in an inappropriate manner. Was he going to deny this if he was confronted? At the time, in the Hall, he was overly convinced that how he was approaching this young boy, was perfectly appropriate; he knew he could have been calmer and not as rash, but he'd only acted as he saw fit. Surely there was no doubt the boy had been rude, both in appearance and how he had spoken; his grin was definitely one of a silly youngster, trying to be smart with adults or of those of higher rank and he had also been aware of his words, which were almost words of mocking.

Now facing the Priestess, he wondered whether Zamara had heard or seen what had been going on in the Hall for the past five minutes. Positively sure that he didn’t want to find out, whether she had heard or not, as he would most definitely not benefit from anything she might hold against him someday, Tarkan tried his very best to act as normal. He gave a faint smile as he turned away from the door and approached silently.

"High Priestess Zamara," he said and nodded politely. When seeing the surprise in her face, probably of his coming, it occurred to Tarkan how embarrassing this was. Why had he changed his mind? To avoid Pelin? To think about the conversation he had had with Evrathol? Now after this, he would probably have even more to think through; the incident with that oaf of a boy in the Hall for instance, was one thing. And if this wasn't enough, he didn't know what this meeting with the Queen and the High Priestess would bring. He frowned; at least now he would be able to observe Zamara. He'd never thought about this before; the way Evrathol had out it, talked about her as if a sly snake. He was exaggerating again, but did not care. He would watch her every move during their session with the Queen. However, when taking it into consideration, he knew that if Zamara was how Evrathol had describes, it was not very likely she acted the same way with the Queen. The Queen was different. It was how Zamara treated, and manipulated, normal people, like Arlomë, that counted. Realising this, he knew that all of this would be in vain. His coming to the Palace was a complete waste of time.

"Tarkan," he heard The High Priestess say after a while, interrupting.

It took you a while, he thought to himself rather amazed. Do you greet all in this way? He gave a faint smile to emphasize that he'd heard it, but it was probably so faint that it was impossible for anyone to see it.

The meeting with the Queen, his decision to come after having decline, was terrible mistake. He wanted to jump to his feet and run. Only the slightest hope of being able to meet the King later gave him the strength to stay.