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Old 04-06-2004, 08:07 AM   #148
Estelyn Telcontar
Princess of Skwerlz
 
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Join Date: Jan 2002
Location: where the Sea is eastwards (WtR: 6060 miles)
Posts: 7,645
Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!
tap, tap, tap...tap, tap

Wyrma looked up from her paperwork with a start. The knocking on her window shutter was no chance movement of the wind; in fact, she knew this particular signal well and hastened to open the window. A desert owl sat on the ledge; its sandy colour made it almost invisible in the dusk. It flew into the room and transformed into a dark-haired young man, taller and somewhat broader than Tinar, but with an unmistakable similarity.

“Kumat!” she exclaimed, “Is something wrong? Do you have a message for me?”

“Thank you for your warm welcome,” her third son replied with only the faintest touch of sarcasm. His mother did not intimidate him, at least not much, but he had a healthy respect for her wrath and treated her with deference. “If I were to tell you that I came for the pleasure of your company, you would not believe me. Yes, something is wrong. No, I do not have a written message; Hálfr thought it would not be wise to send something that could be intercepted or lost, so I bear the message myself.”

He motioned her to the elaborately carved chair at her desk and took another for himself when she was seated.

With an impatient gesture, she waved aside the decanter of wine that he proffered her before pouring himself a goblet. “Is all well with Markal? Have Hálfr and his troops been attacked?”

“Markal is as always,” he answered, with barely concealed disdain for his staid oldest brother. “Hálfr and my brother Walat have their troops well under control, and there has been no open hostility within or without the city.”

“Then what?” she snapped.

“The stones and bricks that were stored for building your main headquarters have been destroyed,” he said, leaning forward to emphasize his words.

Wyrma’s thoughts raced. Building in the desert was a costly and difficult undertaking, since building materials were few. It had taken much effort and no little money to import enough to build not only houses, but to provide a solid foundation as well. They had had to proceed carefully and with some stealth so that Falasmir’s spies did not realize how monumental their plans were.

“But how? And by whom?” she asked the obvious questions. Stones could not be destroyed that easily!

“That is the problem,” he answered, his brows furrowed. “To all appearances, an oliphaunt rampaged among them – there are tracks everywhere amidst the broken stones. But there are no tracks leading away from the storage place. No one heard anything, since it happened during a storm.”

Her mind leapt to several conclusions simultaneously. “If there are no footprints coming or going, it cannot have been a normal beast. Should there be a rebel Maenwaith somewhere who can take the form of an oliphaunt? This would be new in the history of our people and indeed a danger to our plans!”
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