He was dead.

Earlier had been terrible enough, being forced to bring news to an irritable Heolstor in the middle of the night, but now he was to be the bearer of even worse news. But it couldn’t wait. They’d all agreed on that much. Heolstor would be even more angry if the news was delayed by so much as a day. It had to be delivered today.

But why me he thought, irritably. His companions had sent him on a suicide mission. They all knew he was being sent to his death. But, then, he was the most freshly demoted. Everyone had agreed, Suicide Messenger was the lowest position one could sink to. And he had, of course, been appointed immediately.

Heolstor would kill him.

He wanted to scream, tear the letter up, and ride away from Meduseld as fast as his horse would take him. But Heolstor would find him. Somehow he always did. No one who played a double-game with him and ever succeeded. There were few deserters, indeed, among his ranks, and with good reason.

It was doubtful he would survive the afternoon. Even if he managed to get through Edoras without being caught, he would then be left to face Heolstor. Still, at least there was a small chance. A very small chance, but a chance nonetheless.

He clenched his jaw harder, and continued to stride down the mostly-empty halls. Remembering Heolstor’s “advice”, he slowed his pace as much as his nerves would allow, and tried to stop shaking. Perhaps if he actedlike he knew where he was going no one would question him about his destination. Truth be told, he wasn’t completely sure where to go. Heolstor hadn’t been in his room, and now the only recourse that was left him was to frantically search for the Marshal, and hope he could remember his way back out. Meduseld wasn’t all that huge, but to his panicked mind, every turn seemed to be leading him in endless circles.

He passed a few giggling and chattering maids, but continued on, straight-backed, clenching the letter in his hand tightly. A deep voice behind him almost made him jump.

“Are you looking for someone?”

He whirled, and came face to face with the last man on earth he’d wanted to see. Thorongil. He cursed inwardly. Thorongil was supposed to be wounded. He was supposed to still be abed, not accosting traitors in the hallway. After a moment of these terror-stricken thoughts, he realized that Thorongil was still staring at him.

“M-my…employer,” he stammered out lamely. “Employer” didn’t exactly describe Heolstor’s position, but he couldn’t think of any other half-acceptable title to give him.

Thorongil smiled. “But who is your employer? You appear none too confident of your way. Perhaps if you would tell me who you are searching for…?” He looked closely at the slightly-trembling man, and then down at the letter in his hand. What was the man so fearful of?

“I’m not a spy. You have no right to question me,” he said, the quaver in his voice ruining his attempt at sounding confident.

“I’m not accusing you of anything. But if you aren’ta spy, then why can’t you tell me who that letter is meant for? Come, I am on my way to meet with the Council now. If you tell me who that letter is for, perhaps I could deliver it for you, and save you some time.”

He studied the face of the dark-haired captain suspiciously. No. He couldn’t trust Thorongil, of all men. Even Heolstor seemed to view him with admiration, and a degree of fear. He could be up to no good, asking to take the message from him. As much as he would prefer to allow Thorongil to deliver it, he could trust the letter in no one else’s hands. Least of all Thorongil’s.

“No,” he said aloud, backing away a few paces. “No, I will deliver it myself.”

Thorongil frowned. “Is something the matter? You look ill.”

He felt ill. Seeing Thorongil’s brow creased into a frown, he felt his skin go clammy. To his exhausted, fearful mind, filled with panic over being in enemy territory, everyone wanted to arrest him and hang him for treason. Heolstor had warned him enough times about the consequences should he be caught. Even now, he could see the tall captain’s eyes narrow with incriminating suspicion, as if he could see right through all his subterfuge. He was used to playing this game of treason out in the open, surviving by his sword not his wits! Almost subconsciously, his hand reached up and felt inside his vest. His frantic fingers touched the cool, reassuring smoothness of glass. They closed around the vial. He could almost smile now… It would be so easy. So much easier to go this way.

Thorongil’s worry increased, as the man began to back away. “What is wrong?”

Sweat ran down the sides of the other man’s face, but the smile remained fixed on his face. He would not die screaming in some god-forsaken prison cell, ready to betray anyone to escape from the pain. No, he would do as Heolstor had always said to do. He would die quickly and mercifully at his own hand.

“Nothing’s wrong, Captain.” His fingers shook violently as he drew out the vial and uncorked it. “Nothing at all.” With one last smirk at Thorongil, he emptied its contents into his mouth.

Thorongil’s eyes flew wide in horror at sight of the vial. He sprang forward, but the man stubbornly refused to allow his arm to be wrenched away until the vial was empty. It fell to the floor and shattered. The man paled, and then slowly closed his eyes in death. Thorongil caught him awkwardly as he fell forward, grunting in pain as the still-healing wound in his side was jarred.

Footsteps echoed down the hall behind him, and he turned his head to look. Thengel was moving swiftly in their direction. Without saying a word, Thengel quickly moved forward to help with the weight of the man. At his call, two of the palace guards soon appeared.

Thengel finally turned to his captain. “What happened? Who is this man?”

“I only wish Iknew.” Thorongil sighed and shook his head, and commented wryly, “I’m really beginning to think it’s me—lately everyone I meet seems to have the sudden urge to commit suicide.”

“Then you don’t have any idea who he is? Or rather, was…”

“No.” Thorongil bent forward to pick of a piece of the shattered vial that lay at their feet. “But, he had a vial, just like the men who attacked me on the road. As soon as he saw me, he was terrified. He must have thought I knew what he was up to… I only wish I did.”

Thengel’s eyes caught on the letter, where it had fluttered to the floor unnoticed. “What is this?” He picked it up and studied it. It didn’t seem to be addressed to anyone on the outside. “Well, the seal certainly isn’t going to tell us anything.” He broke the plan, un-imprinted red seal and scanned its contents. Instantly, a groan broke from his lips.

Thorongil stepped closer. “What is it?”

Thengel turned the letter so he could see it.

“The message is coded.”

Nodding, Thengel refolded the letter. “Come, we must go to in to the council. There is much we have to discuss.”

***

Heolstor shifted in the uncomfortable, un-cushioned, straight-backed chair. They hadn’t even offered refreshment this morning. Barbaric. Once his plans succeeded—once he was in charge here—there would be a many changes coming to Rohan. He shifted again. To begin with, he would replace these cursed uncomfortable blocks of wood that everyone insisted upon calling “chairs.” Finally, he gave up trying to find a comfortable way to settle his back against the chair and leaned his elbows forward on the dark-wooded table.

Even while a continuous trail of curses ran through his mind, he kept up his act. No one could have begun to guess the dark thoughts hidden by his outwardly pleasant expression. One by one, he purposefully allowed his gaze to linger on the faces of the various men gathered around the table, waiting patiently until their eyes met.

He smiled at one portly man close to the head of the table.

Imbecile.

His eye made contact with the next gentleman, his smile never faltering.

Pompous fool.

He nodded agreeably at the third gentlemen his eyes met.

Idiot.

All around the table his eyes traveled, his face a mask of carefree smiles. Granted, he did look a little tired, but that only made him look more genuine and casual. The man next to him even had the gall to nudge him good-naturedly with an elbow. Masterfully ignoring his first instincts to glare at the man, Heolstor bestowed him with one of his liberal smiles.

“You’re looking a bit on the worn side, Lord Heolstor,” the man said pleasantly.

“Yes…” he drawled with equal pleasantness. “I did have rather a hard time getting to sleep last night.”

Spending the night maturing plans to overthrow a kingdom can do that to you.

He even stooped low enough to offer one of the feeble jokes he detested so much. “Let’s hope I can stay awake during the meeting.” He felt like such an idiot. If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up becoming one of “them”.

He shuddered at the thought, even while he managed to keep up a steady flow of small-talk with the man next to him. At times like this, he could hardly believe it was actually his voice making all those petty comments.

A new voice entered the room and, hearing it, he froze. Luckily, the man he’d been engaged in conversation with wasn’t exactly observant and, since he’d been doing ninety percent of the talking anyways, he didn’t notice the sudden absence of any response from Heolstor.

Thorongil was here. For a second, indecisive emotions battled inside Heolstor, although he never allowed them to show on his face. On one hand, he was almost relieved to hear the captain’s voice. At least it meant the opportunity for some intelligent conversation. On the other hand he, quite frankly, was beginning to hate Thorongil with a passion.

Finally, the incessant babbling of the man beside him broke through his thoughts. As soon as the man paused for breath, he was ready. “Ah, here is Captain Thorongil… I did want to have a word with him. Do excuse me.”

Hardly waiting for a response, he pushed his chair out and, with numerous nods and apologies, painstakingly waded his way through three different conversations, before finally catching sight of Thorongil. When their eyes finally met, Heolstor’s smile was dazzling and flawless as he greeted him.

“Captain, Thorongil! I did not expect to see you up so soon.” Inwardly, he added, I had not expected to see you up at all… Why, oh why couldn’t they have just killed you? Why can’t anything be that simple? But he kept his surprise natural, and pleased-sounding. “You look very well though…” He studied him was apparent concern. “A little pale yet, but very well considering the terrible wound you received. Yes,” he repeated decidedly. “you look very well indeed, Captain.” And what pleasure it would give me to alter that. Permanently. “Congratulations, on your hair-breadth escape. Rohan would be a different place without you, and your enthusiasm.” A very different place. Things would be so much simpler.

Thorongil studied Heolstor as intently as decorum and manners allowed. Why did he always feel so uncomfortable when he was around Heolstor? What was it about this cheerful, good-natured man that always somehow scared him? He smiled, despite his secret premonitions.

“Thank you, Lord Heolstor, I’m feeling nearly myself again.” I do not see malice in his eyes, then why do I feel it so strongly?

“Good, Good…” Heolstor nodded with satisfaction. “I know the King appreciates your advice and, in times like this, he needs all his best captains around him.” Loosing you would have been a crippling loss. Too bad.

“You flatter me, my Lord.” Yes, he most definitely felt malice.

“Not at all, Captain. Thengel-King would truly have lost a valuable counselor if those rogues had been successful.” If those idiots had only fulfilled their task, I wouldn’t have to spend so much of my valuable time trying to think of a new way to kill you.

Thorongil chuckled. “Well, the admiration is mutual.” However, I’m not so sure I trust you.

“I am truly honored and thankful that you think so.” And I’d be even more honored—and especially thankful—if you’d just oblige me and die right here and now. You’d save me so much trouble, Captain. Do consider… “Come, have a seat next to me. You are looking better, but you are not fully recovered.”

Thorongil bowed deferentially, and took the proffered seat. “Thank you.” He seems genuine enough, but I why can’t I shake these feelings? Why can’t I trust him like all the other members of the council do? In order to keep up a comfortable flow of conversation, he continued to talk idly, “Have any decisions been made in my absence?”

“Oh no, nothing of importance. We did hold council once, but I think everyone was too distracted to come to any real agreement. Now that you are here, however, I’m sure the King will want to get down to business.” Now that you are here, I’m going to have to be much more careful about what I say, and how I say it. If I so much as bat an eyelash wrong, I could be tying my own noose. Curse you to Mordor, Thorongil.

“Ah, then there willbe many matters to discuss.” Thorongil pushed aside the disturbing encounter he’d had in the hall. He couldn’t know exactly how much Thengel was going to make public yet. Realizing he’d paused just a moment too long for comfort, he added lamely, “Much to discuss.” Why do I get the distinct feeling you know exactly what I’m talking about? Why do I get the feeling you know more about what I’m talking about than I do?

“Yes, I wouldn’t be surprised if this meeting lasted long into the afternoon, or even later, if the matter of the Dunlendings is addressed.” I only hope I have enough time this evening to come up with a feasible new plan to end your miserable life.

Thorongil gave a genuine smile of amusement at mention of the Dunlendings. “Yes, the Dunlendings… They, alone, could keep us here half the day.” Keep your eyes open, Thorongil. What, exactly, is it about him that makes you shudder?

Heolstor laughed. “Let us hope that does not happen.” Let us hope we can retire before you grow too weary. It would be such a pity if you were to have a sudden relapse from your wound…

With difficulty, Thorongil matched his smile. “You look like you’re rather tired, yourself. Late night?” Somehow, I don’t think I want to learn any more about your nocturnal activities, Captain Heolstor.

“You have caught me, then,” Heolstor was saying amiably. “I’m afraid I never could quite shake my tendency to stay up late. I’m quite nocturnal. Don’t get into the habit, it can be quite inconvenient.” I have a number of inconveniencies in my life at the moment, thanks very much to you.

Trying to brush away just modicum of his suspicions, Thorongil teased lightly, “You and your chess. Perhaps that was what keeps you up so late into the night?” Or is it something more sinister? Is it just my imagination, or do you not appreciate this line of questioning as much as you pretend to?

Heolstor didn’t flinch. “Yes, yes, you’ve caught me. I’m afraid it was the chess again.” Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me…We can’t let that happen, can we?

“Plotting to over-throw your next opponent?” What are you hiding?

“Of course,” Heolstor returned with a cheerful and yet challenging expression. “I’m always plotting, in the hopes of a game. Lately, though, there does seem to be a horrible deficiency when it comes to worthy opponents…” Heolstor shot him a sly, but friendly glance. “I don’t suppose you’d indulge me? I hear you play a good game of chess yourself, although I’ve never had the opportunity to witness it.” Yes, we shall play, Captain, we shall play. You and I shall match wits yet.

“Perhaps.” Thorongil looked down at his hands somewhat sheepishly. “I’m afraid the King has as much as ordered me to take a rest from my duties, so it seems possible that I’ll have plenty of time on my hands. I wouldn’t mind trying a few tactics against you. But I must warn you, I probably won’t be the ‘worthy opponent’ you seek. I am very much out of practice.” But believe me, I’ll still be watching you.

“Well then, we shall have to play a couple of games, and let you warm up.” How I wish I had the time to properly kill you.

“I would enjoy that very much. If I have time to spare, I will definitely consider your offer.” At least it will afford me an opportunity to observe you more closely.

“Do more than consider, Captain, accept. Iwould enjoy it very much, and I doubt you’re half as out of practice as you claim.” Rest easy while you can, when we match our wits, it will be to the death. The pleasure, I assure you, will be all mine.

“My Lords!” Councilor Silfren was standing next to the King at the head of the table, trying to get everyone’s attention. “My Lords, please, we must begin!” Finally, his voice seemed to break through the din, as most heads swiveled towards him. “My Lords, it is time to attend to business!” Finally the last conversations ceased. “Thank you,” he said, in mock exasperation, as he sank back into his seat.

Thengel rose and began in a rather conversational, but dry tone of voice, “I won’t waste time this morning lingering over unimportant matters—such as asking you all if you’re well this morning.” A small ripple of laughter ran along the table at that, and the King couldn’t help but smile slightly. “Good, I’m glad to hear it. Then we can move on.” His smile wavered, his face grim once more. His audience followed suit. “There are so many matters to be discussed, I hardly know where to start. However, I know a few of you will have specific interests you wish to have addressed. If so, speak now. Captain Anborn, why don’t you start?”

Anborn, the oldest and most experienced of the three Marshals of the Mark, stood with his usual composed attitude. He had served for several years as First Marshal, and he’d carried his duties well, but for personal reasons, and as his responsibilities—both official and otherwise—multiplied, he had eventually stepped down. His current position, sometimes smilingly referred to that of “scapegoat”, suited him well, and there was an air of easy-going confidence and control about him as he spoke. “Certainly, your Majesty.” He gave one of his quiet, unobtrusive smiles. “I believe what I have to say is not of any great importance, but I shall allow the Council to decide. It is a report concerning Lord Mannalic.”

At mention of Mannalic, there wasn’t a straight face in the room. Mannalic, a highly paranoid man, sent complaints to the King several times a year. He had a good heart, and took careful care of the towns he governed, but whenever someone was sent to do a survey of the Westfold, they would always come back with a complaint from him of some kind. A couple of years ago, it had been Orcs, the year before that, it had been Wargs. This year, the theme was Wild Men. Just imagining what Mannalic had said this time brought a few muffled snickers from around the table.

Anborn continued, hiding his own amusement with some difficultly. “Yes, as I was saying about Lord Mannalic… He has lodged a complaint.” He refrained, with obvious control from adding “again”. He cleared his throat hastily to cover another smile. “As many of you have probably already guessed, it is concerning the Dunlendings.” More quickly concealed mirth spread and died. Anborn spoke more rapidly now, as if trying to get the rest of his report out before he burst into laughter, and thus lost all his dignity. “He believes that Dunlendings are sneaking through Helm’s Deep and, aided by…” His sense of professionalism didn’t allow him to hesitate too long. “…by Saruman, are plotting to overtake Edoras. He says they’re already encroaching upon the Westfold, causing disturbances among the people.”

“Do you have any eye-witnesses of this, Captain?” Thengel asked seriously, faithfully treating the whole matter as the grave situation it would have been—had not Lord Mannalic been the source of the information.

Anborn followed the King’s lead, replying with equal seriousness, “Yes, my Lord, there are at least half-a-dozen men in Halodawn who staunchly support his theories, and claim have seen these Dunlendings themselves.”

“Did you see anything when you were there that would lead you to believe the rumors true?” Thengel continued to question him closely.

“Well…not exactly.”

“Specify. Tell us what you saw.”

“While I was there, Lord Mannalic received a report from one of his men, stating that three Wild Men had been spotted near the outskirts of the town. Anxious to convince me that what he said was true, Lord Mannalic insisted that I come with him to see some irrefutable proof.”

“And?” Thengel urged, when Anborn paused. “Did you find any proof?”

Anborn looked down at the table. “No, my Liege, we saw…a couple of young boys playing hide-and-seek.” Merciful to the last, Anborn added, “The boys’ hair was…rather dirty, and bit long… Lord Mannalic and his men were quick to assure me that it was not these boys they had seen, but actual Dunlendings.”

A small, rotund lord spoke up from down the table. “Anborn, even you must admit it: Lord Mannalic is either a complete liar, or else he’s hallucinating. He would have us believe that, every year, some new evil of catastrophic proportions comes to the Westfold. We waste good men, and good soldiers chasing his so-called dangerous plots down to their origin. I weary of these discussions!”

Anborn was about to say something, but Thengel beat him to it. “Thank you, Lord Fordón, for your well-voiced concerns. I think most of us have long ago agreed that Lord Mannalic is prone to…exaggerate. I agree, it would be a waste to send good soldiers off on meaningless errands. However, we can not simply ignore Lord Mannalic, who has kept the Westfold safe from harm for many years. We must continue to give him our attention when he calls for aid, or when a serious crisis arises, much damage may be done before we realize what is happening. I have received another message. We must answer his call again.”

“‘Again?” Lord Fordón didn’t even attempt to keep the dismay from his voice.

“Yes, again,” Thengel replied evenly.

Anborn addressed the flustered Lord, his face portraying his usual flawless patience. “Do not worry, Lord Fordón, I will answer his call once again. Lord Mannalic means well, and I have to admire his conscientiousness, if nothing else.”

Lord Fordón scowled and muttered to himself. “Valar protect us from Lord Mannalic’s ‘conscientious’ imagination. That mad-man should save it all up and write it down in a book, not trouble us with it…”

“Again, thank you, Lord Fordón, for those very clearly expressed sentiments,” Thengel said, his voice strained but polite.

“I will take care of this matter, my Lord, do not trouble yourself, or the Council about it,” Captain Anborn reassured.

Everyone seemed ready to except Anborn’s offer, but the King shook his head. “No Anborn, not this time. You’ve already taken that tedious journey twice this year—and it’s only February. Even you must be growing tired of it, certainly your men are. No—” He held up his hand when Anborn tried to speak. “You have been patient, and willingly done this unpleasant task for a number of years, for which we are all thankful. But you shall not go this time.” The men around the table glanced nervously at each other, wondering which one of them could have fallen under the king’s displeasure enough to merit this kind of punishment. “I will go this time.”

All heads shot up at this announcement, and all mouths fell silent. Fordón was the first to recover.

“You cannot be serious—Thengel-King!”

Thengel was finally beginning to lose his patience. “I am quite serious. I intend to visit the Westfold, and I intend to do it within the week. Perhaps I may even have a serious…discussion with Lord Mannalic, and, subtly, suggest he check out his own problems more thoroughly before sending news here.”

Speechlessly, Fordón’s mouth opened and closed, making him look very much like a fish out of water. He finally stammered, “But why, my Lord? You must not place yourself in unnecessary danger.” He nodded in Aragorn’s direction. “After this latest attempt on Captain Thorongil’s life, who knows what trouble you might meet up with on the road.”

“I’ve hardly set foot out of Edoras for the past month. I intend to go.” All the other men wisely fell silent, recognizing that the battle was already lost. “Théoden and I will be leaving in two days.”

The mention of the Prince appeared to be too much for Fordón to handle, and he slumped back in his chair, exhausted from his attempts to make the king see reason.

At this point in the meeting, three or four servants opportunely took advantage of the lull in conversation to bring refreshments.

Thengel decided it was time to close the subject. “I think that concludes discussion on this topic.” No one dared say otherwise. “We will take a short break to partake of refreshment, and then we will continue. There is still much to talk about.”

Polite chatter filled what would have been an awkward silence. Heolstor turned to Thorongil, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, but smiling as he took another sip of wine.

“Well, the King does seem to be in a rather decisive mood this morning. Perhaps there is hope that all will yet be decided upon before toomany hours have passed.” Heolstor took another sip of his wine. The company does somewhat ruin its effect… He was growing decidedly tired of having Thorongil’s presence so nearby, reminding him of his failure.

Thorongil nodded. “Indeed. I think the King is just as anxious for matters to be settled quickly, as we are.” He held his own goblet to his lips, taking a slow, thoughtful drink. He was growing decidedly tired of Heolstor’s presence, he had to admit. This is why I always avoid sitting next to him. I’ll remember better next time. It was a rather childish sentiment, granted, but a very true childish sentiment.

Watching his fellow Captain’s face cloud over, Heolstor asked, “Is the wine to your liking, Captain Thorongil?” Perhaps I could add a little hemlock, just for flavor?

Thorongil quickly snapped out of his stupor. “The wine? Yes, it’s very good.” Which is more than I can say for the company. Doesn’t he know when to leave a man to his thoughts?

“Good.” Here is one man I had better not leave to his thoughts for too long. Too much if his kind of thinking is what ruins well-laid plans like mine. “What do you think the King will address next?” The question sounded slightly inane, even to his own ears, but it sent a chill up his spine, just watching the other man’s eyes turn inwards in thought… What were those thoughts? How much did he suspect? He couldn’t stand to watch those silver eyes flash with dangerous considerations and broodings.

Thorongil had to struggle not to look too sharply at Heolstor. What kind of a question was that? Was it simply a question of genuine interest? Or was it something else? What “something else”? What could Captain Heolstor possibly be driving at? And yet… Automatically, the question struck him as almost probing. He couldn’t quite keep the suspicion entirely out of his voice, “How would I know?”

Heolstor flinched inwardly at the sudden suspicion that entered Thorongil’s eyes. Here was the only man alive who would take such a simple question so seriously. He was getting far too used to intercourse with simple minds, and now he would have to work ten times harder to procure Thorongil’s trust again. If he’d ever had it in the first place. “Oh, noting in particular. I was just wondering if you had any idea… I know Thengel confides in you often.” If only I could see into that mind of yours, what would I see? You’re far too intelligent to live. There’s only room for one of us in Rohan.

“When the King chooses to ‘confide’ in me, I generally take the conversation into my confidence, and do not share it around like a scandalous bit of gossip.” Before he could help it, the rude comment had slipped out. And, he realized, he didn’t really want to take it back. How will you respond to that, Captain Heolstor?

Heolstor felt his smiles coming to a desperate depletion, but he managed a weak one nonetheless. “Of course not!” He toned down the too-cheerful response, with second, “Of course not… Forgive me, I didn’t mean to pry, or make you feel uncomfortable.” I mean to do far worse when I’m through with you. “Of course you must keep your confidences, I was only curious as to what the plans for the day might be.” Deciding that the situation called for another smile, he begrudgingly added one on to the end his apology.

Despite his previous disparaging thoughts towards Heolstor, the other Captain seemed genuinely repentant now, and Thorongil couldn’t help but feel a small pang of guilt, albeit a very small one. He glanced briefly at Heolstor. Was it just his imagination, or was his smile beginning to look rather strained? And why shouldn’t it? After such a rude comment he’s liable to be a little put off, isn’t he? “No, no need to apologize…” His diplomatic habits asserted themselves automatically. “I spoke hastily, without thinking.” He took a sip of wine to cover his sudden embarrassment at his own outburst.

“Never mind, Captain, I understand. All our tempers our bound to be little short by the end of this meeting.” Heolstor’s own diplomatic training also followed suit, sliding easily into place over his feelings of detestation. He watched Thorongil take a measured draft of wine. Oh gods, just let him choke…

The gods, however, did not seem to be in an obliging mood, and Thorongil drained his glass without coming to any harm. Before they could continue their delightful conversation, Silfren was standing again, directing everyone’s attention back to the head of the table.

And so the Council continued. And continued…

Heolstor shifted in his chair and repressed all thoughts concerning his opponent. There would be some serious planning to do before this night was over, and one particularly troublesome Marshal to get rid of.

Thorongil shifted in his own chair, accepting a glass of cool water from one of the passing servants. Yes, dehydration and tiredness could definitely play tricks with the mind… Lord Heolstor, plotting? He must be going insane.