As he peered out of the door across the moonlit stable yard Benor Dorfinngil
could see a cloaked figure making its way to the kitchen door. Benor assumed
it was somebody intent upon an assignation, but rather than knocking at the
door, the person produced a key and opened it. Intrigued now, Benor waited
until the figure had slipped inside and then he stole silently and swiftly
across the yard. Unsure of what was going on he took the precaution of
checking that his long knife was in its sheath.
Once in the kitchen Benor surveyed the room by the light of the dying fire.
There was a cloak discarded carelessly over the table, and the other door
was still ajar. Benor crossed the kitchen and looked through the gap left by
the partially open door. A man was standing at the foot of the stairs and
was lighting a lantern. With the lantern trimmed to his satisfaction the man
transferred it to his left hand, bent down and picked up a stout cudgel with
his other hand. He then climbed slowly up the stairs.
Benor waited until the light in the hall had dimmed and then opened the
kitchen door just enough to squeeze through. He tiptoed warily to the foot
of the stairs. Whoever it was who had entered the house was already out of
sight above him. Concerned for the safety of the residents Benor walked as
quietly as possible up the stairs. At the top of the stairs he could see
that the lantern bearer had already started down one of the corridors and
was standing with his ear pressed to a door, listening intently. Benor
froze, desperate not to make a sound. Now he had his hand on the hilt of his
knife but didn’t want to draw it lest the blade catch the light.
Suddenly the figure burst into the room, lantern held high. Benor heard him
shout, “Is this how you repay my generosity, Dorfinngil?”
Somewhat perplexed by this Benor walked hastily down the corridor and looked
into the room. Grayer Thirsk, lantern raised, was stalking towards the bed.
His sister sat up abruptly, naked at least to the waist.
“What are you wittering about Grayer?”
“You! Cavorting with that Toelar scoundrel!”
She flicked aside the bedclothes to reveal Arad Branwit lying next to her.
“Grayer, go to bed, you’re obviously drunk.”
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