11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 10

The moment it had happened the news of the shameful episode and Prince Herleif’s subsequent punishment had spread like a wildfire throughout the Palace. The staff nevertheless hid their delighted chuckles and guffaws hidden behind a sleeve or a handkerchief, while inwardly wishing, still worst in store (yet to be) for this particularly disfavored Royal fiend (brute). As it were, no one seriously expected Herleif to one day ascend the throne; meanwhile, five or six staff members had already began expounding on the ensuing repercussions of this recent debacle (fiasco).

Zakhertan Yozdek’s estimation being right on the mark, fifty strokes had been more than an adequate punishment for the crown prince with his low pain threshold; Herleif had to be revived several times, due to the requirement that the offender (lawbreaker) remained conscious during punishment, until all the strokes had been properly administered. When it was all over, Herleif was taken back to his Royal apartments where he was gradually nursed back to health by the assigned, conscientious (diligent) Royal Physician, Enqui Rimeng.

After lying in unconscious state for several hours on the first night, Prince Herleif soon as he had regained his strength, spent the subsequent days and nights ranting and raving, venting his suppressed rage, foul temper, curses and unwarranted vengeful acts upon that vulnerable help who tended to him.

01- PRINCE HERLEIF RANTING AND RAVING

 Those domestics (servants, retainers) who were obliged to serve his unreasonable needs were made to suffer tenfold pain, worse than he had been forced to bear. His unjustified wraths (ire, madness) were only interrupted by ear splitting shrieks when the bandages were changed (replaced); his high-pitched yelps akin a whipped jackal, meanwhile, ripped through the air each time the potent medicine, a stinging salve (ointment, lotion) was applied on his lacerations.

Herleif (needless to say), had entirely missed the point of his punishment, and no one was foolish enough to attempt to reason with him or enlighten him on the elusive logic, let alone this rare, lenient consequence, for which he should be thankful (glad, content).

                                                                                   ~ 

Royal Tutor Worren Youkup’s previous night's soul-searching and sleepless hours of self recrimination, on the subsequent dawn (at daybreak) had visibly left its mark on his face.

Worren, nevertheless, was still adamant (resolute, determined ) to confront Lady Sejon and extract a plausible  explanation from her; hence, no sooner had he dressed and breakfasted, he climbed into his personal carriage and instructed the driver (handler, coach) to take him (traversing across the vast palace grounds) at once to the South Palace gate.

02-THE GATE OF SOUTH PALACE

Worren Youkup once there, while alighting from the carriage he quietly considered the long and brisk (laborious) walk that lay ahead of him before his destination, the compound at the far side of the South Palace where Lady Sejon, currently the Sovereign's favorite, resided. The location, besides being the grandest apartments in the South Palace, was set at the farthest high ridge (at high elevation with many steps leading up to it), with an stringent checkpoint at the bottom, positioned prior to the hanging bridge that crossed over the ecological (natural) deep lake, an intimidating, unwarranted measure, which  displayed her importance and discouraged any trespass from wayward or frivolous (inconsequential) visitors.   

This morning had been unseasonally frigid, Worren Youkup’s breath as he exhaled, let out white plumes of vapor testifying to  the crispness of the morning air; nevertheless, after flatly refusing the offered palanquin (rikshaw) ride, he with an unreadable expression for a spell had lingered at the spot and stared at the long stretch that lay before him. He of course, had deliberately opted to walk off all that nervous energy (in solitude) which had been bottled up within his chest; anticipating that, the physical exertion would placate his troubled heart and mind before he confronted Lady Sejon.

His prior (routine) morning walks had always given him an inexplicable sense of rejuvenation and oneness with nature, as well, effectively diminished (paled) all major disconcerting (disquieting, worrying) thoughts and experiences that often beset (plagued) him. Indeed, in those instances, the knotty (tricky) political affairs and dubious acts of powerful people that aggrieved his conscience, plus the problematic social and administrative duties had always (vanished) melted away by the wafting breezes that gentle caressed his cheeks; then, for a fleeting shining moment or two, whatever had ailed his heart or plagued his conscience, thankfully and indubitably, lost its significance (and potency).  That is what he’d sought to echo (recap) this very morning; thus, his steps anon (presently), promptly and carefully tread on the interwoven, smooth, damp logs of the hanging bridge, for it had drizzled (rained) freshly just before dawn. Worren Youkup, furthermore, indulging his lungs with rhythmic, deep intakes of oxygen, welcomed the soft zephyr (gentle wind) drifting (fanning) off the lake and experienced the familiar sensation, to akin absolute peace and tranquillity, availed by that pristine, crisp morning breezes that buffeted his sleeves and caressed his cheeks.

Subsequently, as his rapid and sure steps advanced towards Lady Sejon’s main dwelling (key residence), the acute tautness (tension) from his shoulders had also gradually eased and he was temporarily thence, got reprieved from the consequential qualms of his present dilemma. Halting for a spell, his eyes took in the magnificent outlay (brilliantly organized lay out, geometric designs, delightful landscape etc.) that stretched out before him; as he did this, he was reminded once more, that, ‘Things were same yet not the same.’

03- SOUTH PALACE - 1 JP

The South Palace (typically guarded by the heavily armed parapets,) contrasted in every viable way from the other Imperial dwellings (compounds, buildings), including those of Eunuch’s edifices (structures). Here for instance, the prevalent architecture by design lost the severity of all others. The manicured grounds, currently awakening at dawn and reconciled by the delicate patterns of the exquisitely adorned, more refined flowers, glistened with the jewel-like dew on them; meanwhile, Worren’s nostrils were delightfully assailed by their varied (diverse, mottled) intoxicating fragrances.

Those brilliant nuggets of flowerbeds, moreover, occasionally held in its centre the mythic nymphs, pleasing female-guardian statues, or the representations of legendary beauties fixed in enchanting poses. To put it succinctly, all was designed to totally inveigle (cajole) the senses, to disarm and place one in an amicable, receptive mood. Worren, likewise, mollified (placated), he watched the butterflies’ flitter here and there; while lending an ear to the ongoing lugubrious symphony of insects and birds, his soul entirely lightened now, of all its (mundane) burdens.

 

04- HEAVENLY GARDEN LANDSCAPES - 9

Unexpectedly, an involuntary shudder just then however, reminded Worren Youkup of the cold, forbidding North Palace where Zakhertan Yozdek resided. The austere Spartan decor of the North Palace was in keeping with the bloody frescoes which glorified hunting, war and the Sovereign's supremacy over nature and the works of Heaven. Every niche and corner held menacing marble grotesques representing War Spirits and Demons. Even Zakhertan Yozdek’s private garden from his apartments was decorated to look more like a battlefield than a quiet meadow.

 

Worren, two days prior had received the summons to render his usual report this late afternoon, a task which he did not ordinarily relished; currently however, this was made worse by Prince Herleif’s recent debacle (catastrophe). Worren, hence, shook his head to dispel those unwarranted, worrisome thoughts and fears that anew threatened to burden his soul and directed his attention instead, on the present fecundity (lushness) of nature, which opportunely once more lulled his senses into a tranquil state. Worren, furthermore, focused his gaze deliberately on the intricate granite walkway ahead that was boarded by glazed colourful (azure, yellow, red, green) tiles that glistened, then on the elaborately carved balustrades (handrails, railing) that boarded it. His steps absentmindedly navigated the smooth surfaces, as he pondered on the anticipated, soon to be encountered labyrinth (maze of) of fragrant orchard trees and then the snaking path of the tranquil bamboo grove.

 

05- SUMMER PALACE GARDEN - JP  3

 

                                                                                                        ~  

Worren Youkup’s hasty steps swiftly advanced (passed) through the large, circular moon shaped gate next, and then bypassing into the inner courtyard, he finally entered Sejon's private quarters. There, his gaze was greeted by jewel encrusted mosaics depicting seductive scenes of exotic nymphs cavorting shamelessly across the walls, designed to bring forth euphoric ecstasy of the imagined Heaven.  Notwithstanding his puritanical nature his gaze lingered briefly on them, to vicariously appreciate the frolicking, lifelike, voluptuous pixies (fairies, elves), fertile earth spirits entwined around the carved turquoise pillars that stretched up to the purple ceiling.

Worren Youkup’s feet, independent of thought, then softly glided on the plush carpet past the ranks of vermilion doors flanking the corridor and emitting waves of exuberance, warmth, and secrets, or whispered intimacies. Despite the bustling of the servants rushing to and for, there was such an atmosphere of placid tranquillity that he wondered if the news of last night's events had reached here at all. But of course, it had.

Later on, he would learn that the uproar which had rocked the very grounds of the East, West and South Palaces had not at all disturbed Her Ladyship's slumber. While everything was turned upside down about her, Sejon had slept soundly and peacefully through all the animated gestures, the whispers, the sighs and lashing of tongues. It was as though her physical form and soul existed in the  alternate placid universe.

The North Palace had also maintained the (norm) routine, as the resilient, stout attendants and guards often being quite accustomed to earthshaking events, completed their assigned tasks, with regimented, military efficiency, throughout the night and subsequent morning.

                                                                                                       ~

When her Ladyship Sejon finally awoke at her usual time in mid-morning Sejon was delicately informed by a serving staff (team) that the old tutor Worren Youkup had made his unexpected, early visit and that, stubbornly, he insisted on waiting for an audience (conference) with her.

"If he has so much time on his hands then waiting a little more will not hurt him." Sejon had replied without emotion and continued with her leisurely bath and toiletries. “Those towering bookshelves in the library will no doubt afford him some amusement; let him pass the time there. Make sure he has his treats." 

Having been perfumed and dressed she then consumed a full breakfast in her usual, unhurried manner.

 

06- HER  LADYSHIP SEJON

                                                                                                          ~

Worren Youkup, meanwhile, as per her orders, was congenially ushered into the library and, after making himself comfortable was served a cupful of fragrant herbal tea. A large tray of his favorite small cucumber sandwiches, sweets, and exotic tidbits was also placed nearby for him to partake.

“No, Sejon, I won’t be so easily mollified or enticed this day.” Worren had inwardly scoffed, snubbing the tray of cuisine pabulums (victuals).

Subsequently, leaning his back in the plush chair, his stern gaze had instead, uninterestedly swept over the volumes, row upon row of classic manuscripts and rare scrolls about family loyalty, proper conduct and morals which now taunted him by their incongruous presence in these apartments. But as the hours wore on, in these plush surroundings with the flowers perfume from the garden wafting into the room, it gradually pacified Worren Youkup’s inner fury and iron resolve; his hand meanwhile, had absently wandered over to the tray and, before he’d even realized what he had done, he had already popped several delicious cucumber sandwiches into his mouth. And once he had started, he could not very well stop, and so, with a sigh, he consumed last two of those delectable (scrumptious) sweet comestibles (edibles).

 

                                                                                                      ~

Sejon, with an amicable (cordial) smile, one that did not reach her eyes, had eventually sauntered into the library after her breakfast; but her keen eyes at once (noting) finding the tray empty, her laconic (pithy, curt) yet decidedly dour (terse, severe) look at the servants sent them immediately scurrying off to refill it.     

"What brings us the pleasure of your company so early in the day, Master Youkup?” She inquired pleasantly; her voice filled with respect while inwardly she cursed. “I will tolerate you for a while longer, you old fool, for you still have some use.”      

"You are always welcome here, of course."  She puckered (pursed) her crimson lips and coyly shook her hair once she had crossed the room to stand facing Worren Youkup, who had risen from his chair to greet her.

She was about to add, as you well know, I am more disposed to receiving visitors in the afternoon, but Worren's firm, almost angry countenance froze (arrested) the words on her tongue. After indicating for him to take a seat, she with a certain flair and charming decorum seated herself also, right across from the old scholar.

Observing her placid (tranquil, serene) demeanor, Worren Youkup could not have estimated that, just then, her stomach had in fact, knotted with anxiety.

For a period, they both sat immobile and with unreadable expressions simply gazed (stared) at the other, without a word passing between them.

Sejon held up her fragrant handkerchief to her nose and then pursing her lips momentarily looked away, as she succinctly considered: Courtesy was always the best policy. There was no point in aggravating the old goat any more than he clearly, already was.

"I hope you have not been kept waiting too long, sir.” Sejon purred her insincere apology, finally ending the uncomfortable silence, as she same time flashed him one of her winning smiles.

“That should be enough to placate him.”  She was confident of the effect, being the most enchanting beauty in all the land and typically, the response had always been the same; but Worren’s unwavering eyes had met hers coldly then moved about the room, resting briefly on each of her attendants until they settled on Nijel, her newly promoted yet most trusted and ambitious lady in waiting.

07- NIJEL

Worren Youkup wry (sardonic, cynical) smile fleetingly brushed his lips and then he nodded, “Despite her angelic face, yes, that vixen would be the one.”

 Worren lowering his gaze, cogitated further: Nijel’s keen eyes, before she quickly veiled (disguised) it, had bespoken of ruthlessness, an intense yearning and an unfulfilled ambition…More importantly, since she had replaced the absent Zijur, Nijel had consistently of late, had wormed (inveigled) her way into Sejon's confidence. Besides, Sejon was too crafty to soil her own hands.

Sejon's mind, meanwhile, was perturbed by the old man's cryptic manner; underneath her projected, fragile smile, laid bitterness she could not entirely repress. "How may I be of service to you, Master Youking?"  Receiving no reaction still, she pressed on, "Perhaps, sir, you would wish to visit my son, prince Ma...?"    

"No."  The curt (snappy) and unnaturally loud tone (voice, assertion) caused two of her servants to jump.

 "I apologize for my terse response,” Worren Youkup quickly composed himself, then added, in a low toneless voice, picking out each word meticulously. “However, the sole reason for my visit Madame, is to discuss here and now, a matter of utmost urgency pertaining to ..."  He stopped then his eyes dubiously (suspiciously) glared at Nijel.

"I am at your disposal then, Master Youkup." Sejon, pretending not to have noticed this, assumed instead a baffled (perplexed) look, plus just a hint of vulnerability added to her quivering, caring tone, that completed the pseudo (quasi, imitation) picture of a persona of an eager pupil, as she same time sat stiffly upright in her seat.

"Pray, tell me also, have I or any of my staff, done anything to displease you; speak frankly, your mind, sir, so that I may address (tackle) it immediately."    

Worren Youkup fought off the urge to slip into familiar pedantry. “Oh, you are good my dear, but it won't work this time.”  Her submissive manner far from pleasing him, seen now in a vastly different light, merely served to annoy him and his mouth creased into a grimace of disdain (akin a scorn).

“This brazen vixen is toying with me! Has it come to this, then?”  Though his expression outwardly had not changed, inwardly the resurgent rage had choked the words in Worren’s throat. “She knows full well what she has done, yet playing the innocent…what unmitigated gall she has?”

Worren, adamant at not showing any weakness, exhaled deeply to check his indignation then leaned back. “All right, my dear, we will play this your way.”  He softened his expression and fixed a more amiable gaze on her. In a pleasant tone he next inquired, "I wonder if, before we proceed any further, it could be arranged for us to speak privately."    

"Leave us."  Sejon's immediate, curt wave of her hand dismissed all her attendants, indicating to Worren Youkup that at least she wished to cooperate. They all promptly departed except for Nijel, who had not budged an inch from her mistress' side.

Worren Youkup remained silent; he knitted his brows and his stern gaze simply looked away, to a void space in the periphery of (just inches from), where Nijel stood.

 

(END OF SECTION 10)

 

 

                                                                                           ~

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 21

 

After the scholar Fradel had left the room, Yenis hung her head, pouting for a long while, as seething anger stirred within her.  Eventually putting her disappointment and rage forcefully aside, she reclined and attempted in earnest to get some sleep.  Still, her melancholy and irritation drove away any sleep and she stayed fully awake most of that night, wrapped in a despondent, fitful mood, suffering from emotions and thoughts that obstinately refused to go away.

In the next room, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) had spread out his overcoat next to a dry wall, rolled his outer garments up into a neat bundle and placed them under his head as he lay down to sleep.  Hearing a stirring behind him, he instantly turned and sat bolt upright.

Luminous, swirling vapors circled the center of the room, finally settling to reveal the apparitions of three handsomely clad monks kneeling to face him in supplication, flanked by two novices carrying lamps which glowed with a cold fire. 

Rising to his feet, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) was about to accost them when the center monk bowed low on courtesy and, in a resounding voice, gave solemn greetings to him invoking the name Prince Nevetsecnuac Alric Therran Valamir. He then added:

"Abbot Tuho respectfully requests an audience with Your Highness.  Please follow us."

Not waiting for Nevetsecnuac's reply, they rose to their feet in unison and, bowing, floated out of the room.

"Please wait up, sirs."  Nevetsecnuac grabbed the bundle of garments and rushed outside after them trying, as he moved, to clothe himself decently.  Everything outside was bathed in unnatural, cool daylight, its beauty almost taking Nevetsecnuac ‘breath away.  All had been transformed into the exact semblance of its former glory.  In the splendor of the days before the monk's demise Nevetsecnuac noted the red columns, inlaid with jewels lining the halls.  Cut diamond chandeliers were suspended from the ceiling, their brilliance mirrored in the smooth marble of the floors.  Brilliantly colored murals surrounded every door and, flanking the portals, tall, lifelike statues stood sentry over the rare fragrances wafting in from the courtyard outside.

Nevetsecnuac passed through polished white terraces, over petal strewn paths checkered by the cold sun's golden rays, and around crystalline ponds housing darting goldfish.  Rare birds sang joyously from branches adorned with spring flowers, their melody in perfect consonance with the monk's lugubrious harmonies and the rhythmic pealing of bells.  All was so indescribably beautiful, so entrancingly transient and serene that Nevetsecnuac felt as if he was in a heavenly palace among the immortals.

Returning inside, he trod on plush carpeting, so soft he felt he was walking on clouds and noted with interest the identities of the idols that inhabited the great hall.  His wish to stop and pay his proper respects to these gods, however, was overridden by the monks' unwillingness to wait.  After a slight bow from the waist, he picked up his steps and rushed after the monks, who had very nearly vanished from view.  Seeing them disappear behind a large set of doors, he followed their lead and entered the Great Hall, where some seven or eight hundred monks, draped in magnificent capes, had already assembled. 

Separated into two neat groups arrayed around the center like a palm leaf, they were kneeling, hands clasped, in absolute obeisance (homage, respect) to the surprisingly young-looking Abbot, who was sitting in his golden cloud-patterned high-backed chair, positioned at left, center of the dais (platform). Abbot was the only one that did not have his eyes closed in deep trance.  Behind him at slightly lower podium, in intricately carved chairs set, the key (prominent)administrative priests, other high-ranking staff and scribes. etc. 

Instructed to wait at the door by the portal's guards, Nevetsecnuac watched his three guides take their respective places, close their eyes and strike the same pose as the rest. 

The two novices brought their lighted staffs to Nevetsecnuac's side and quietly led him up to the Abbot's dais.  His eminence’s eyes were at first lowered (half-closed) in contemplative pose, as if in prayer, his manner, serene yet imposing and dignified.

Nevetsecnuac waited until the golden-haired, most august-looking Abbot Tuho finally looked up and smiled at Nevetsecnuac.  

02- ABBOT TUHO

At once, Nevetsecnuac bowed his head reverently to the Abbot, who solemnly reciprocated (returned) the bow, then placed his palms together before his chest then raised it to his forehead in the traditional greeting.

Coming forward next, the Abbot took Nevetsecnuac's hands and, smiling warmly, said,

"It’s very kind of Your Highness to honor us with your presence.  May we now request that Your Highness permit us to show proper and due respect as well as our boundless gratitude."

He ushered Nevetsecnuac into a seat of honor, a magnificent high-backed chair intriguingly carved with a dragon motif, bearing the Seal of the reign of Nevetsecnuac's grandfather, on a singly higher podium to the right.

"This is where His Majesty, Zuronghan Therran Valamir, always sat to receive our oaths of fealty.  This honor is now conferred on to you, Your Highness."

03- NEVETSECNUAC BEING HONORED

 After Nevetsecnuac, with all due modesty, took up his seat, Abbot Tuho, the elder monks, the Prior, the Abbot's assistant, the Deacon, the two senior scribes and all others arrayed themselves by rank in single file to the accompaniment of bells, drums and gongs.

 When all was still once more, the long procession of monks came forward in measured steps and, one by one, knelt and touched their foreheads reverently to the floor before Nevetsecnuac.  Each one proclaimed their fealty and gratitude to him.  Their resounding, rippling words permeated the air of the Great Hall with an aura of auspicious light.

Just then a scented breeze wafted through the Hall and the ceiling of the Great Hall parted with reverberating thunder.  All eyes(heads) turned upwards; Nevetsecnuac, the Abbot and all the monks without exception, immediately and with reverence (of this miracle), had dropped to their knees, mutely expressing deep gratitude to all the Gods, Immortals and Royal lineage, for this special (favor) blessing.

 Nevetsecnuac with misted eyes observed high above him, hosted by various Gods riding the backs of Dragons, his majestic grandfather, his father, and the other members of the Royal family, all, peering down at him from the luminous clouds and approvingly smiling at him. 

Subsequently, after all the revered beings had departed and the ceiling once more sealed (closed up), Abbot Tuho wreathed in smiles coming forth, invited Nevetsecnuac to a feast in the huge dining hall of the Abbey, to commemorate this auspicious occasion.  They took up their respective seats and happily partook (consumed, shared) the delightful array of exotic fruits from distant lands and sundry, intercontinental vegetarian dishes; meanwhile, from silver goblets all drunk heartily the refreshing liquids to quench their rising thirsts, while they listened to the soothing melodies of the harp.

During dinner Nevetsecnuac, seizing an opportunity, politely asked Abbot Tuho for his guidance.

"All is to be done according to Heaven's will."  The Abbot paused and then, in a quiet, serious voice, added, "Your Highness, you must remember that perceived reality is an illusion, and things are rarely what they seem.  Lay your trust in the unlikely one and pluck out the root of evil implanted in the abandoned son."

"Help…Help!  Save me!"  A sudden, desperate cry shook Nevetsecnuac into wakefulness.

He found himself, fully dressed, seated on a wooden crate in the middle of the large, dilapidated hall.  Only the moonlight, streaming through the broken windows and the gaps in the walls illuminated his way.  It was most fortunate that he had marked the area well during the day's surveying, for now he had to blindly rush back to Yenis' room.  She was obviously in mortal danger.

When he reached the outside of her door he hesitated to enter for a moment or two and knocked instead.  "Are you all, right?" he inquired, afraid she may not be decent; afraid she may only be having a nightmare.

"Ay!  Get away from me!  Help me, Master Fradel!  Save me!"

Her shout quickly made up his mind for him.  Forsaking propriety, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) burst inside; to apprehend the culprit but he found no such person there.

 She was sitting, all alone, on the edge of the bedding, trembling in fright.  Soaked in perspiration, her diaphanous inner garment clung tightly to her body, attenuating the outlines of her exposed bosom as it swelled and heaved with her gasps.

Embarrassed, Fradel lowered his eyes to the ground at once, muttering apologies for the intrusion, and started to take his leave.

"Please don't go.  I'm so frightened." the girl pleaded in a quivering, provocative voice.

"Don't be." Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) assured her, his eyes still pinned to the ground.

"It's your taut nerves that are playing tricks on you.  It was only a bad dream.  I'll light this torch and leave it here for you, if you like."

"But I really did see someone sinister lurking about.  It was not a dream, I swear it!" in a tragic tone she protested.

 "I was not asleep yet.  Truly there was someone in my room.  I did not get to see his face, but he stood over there, as surely as I am here…A monstrously big man with grizzled red hair and blazing beard."

"That's impossible." Fradel shook his head.  "This room has no windows and no other openings besides the door I just came in.  I made sure of that earlier.  How could he appear out of thin air?"  He was beginning to lose patience with her.

"You're mocking me.", she said indignantly, pouting, puckering her lips. "Has it occurred to you that there might be a secret passage here that you might have overlooked?"

"No, that was ruled out when I thoroughly searched this room earlier."  Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) was unrelenting, but softened his tone to urge her, without turning around, "Please do not be afraid and try to get some rest."

04- YENIS LUKO

"Oh, please, I implore you, don’t go." She whimpered (moaned) seductively, then rushed over to tug at his sleeve.

 "I don't care if you believe me or not, just don't leave me alone.  I'm sorry if I spoke harshly just then."  Stomping her foot, she rebuked him gently, "You just don't care what happens to me; you obviously don’t! But how can you be so heartless to leave me here all alone without any protection?"

 Weeping, she ran back and threw herself on the bedding.  "I'm afraid.  What if he comes back?" she looked up to ask, despairingly.

Recalling the other set of footprints in the tunnel, the large ones paralleling those of Yenis, which she’d claimed to have had no knowledge of, and remembering the Abbot's parting injunction that ‘things are not what they seemed’, Fradel stopped.  The girl was frightened in earnest.  Perhaps there was something in what she claimed, for that odd sensation of being watched by unseen eyes gnawed at him again.

 "Well, all right." he acquiesced with his back still towards her.  "You may rest easy; I’ll stand guard outside the door."  He closed the door after him then sat down with his back against it.

Is this scholar made of flesh and bone? Nevertheless, comforted by his presence outside, shrugging her shoulders, Yenis closed her eyes to sleep.

 Oh well, there will be plenty of other opportunities.  Resigned to this night’s temporary setback, she yawned a few more times then, rolling over, soon drifted into blissful sleep for the remainder of the night.

 

(END OF SECTION 21)

                                                                                        ~