"Have you news of my family?" Father asked, leaning forward as he swirled fresh water in a crystal glass.

"It is hard not to have news of your family, Lord Sivis," my mother's father replied.

"Your grigio, lord ipocond," Vis interrupted gently, without a slur in his speech, as he poured a ruby liquid into a similar crystal glass in front of the visiting lord.

Good job Vis! I thought. Less than a week of training and the stablehand seems to have become an acceptable valet.

Ipocond Phrans took the glass without any suspicions on the valet's origins, but before he continued speaking, the guard who had been trailing Pricel came around to take the glass for a sip.

Ipocond Phrans then took the glass back and continued speaking.

"Your father, Sijon Feles, has recently been spending much of his time in the capital with the Elafoz. They exchange lavish gifts and listen to minstrels and bards in the Ginishilla palace."

"With the Elafoz," my father murmured, eyebrows raised.

"Yes. The Elafoz, along with many of the more... munificent of our peers, has been protesting the king's decision to raise levies at the borders other than the one with Klistoss. The costs in the capital for wines and silks have risen sharply as a result."

"We are soft, this kingdom, only spared by Keiran's warring princes. But let's not talk more of my father. Is my brother well? And what of Marian? Has her fate yet been decided?"

The ipocond snorted and took a sip from his glass. "You know your father. As soon as Lady Marian came of age, he made sure she was betrothed. Fortunately, it was a well chosen match for her. Perhaps your father learned from you. She will marry Cond Yse's son."

"Verbon Yse? They were similar in age, if I remember well."

"Yes, they are already well acquainted and don't seem to have made any fuss."

"And my brother?"

"Your brother, hmm. Perhaps Lord Nistan can tell you," mother's father gestured to Pricel's shadow, who had just returned to standing behind the boy at the table.

The man was tall and fit. His hair was not cut short, but not unruly either.

"My lords," he bowed to father and the ipocond, "my lady", to my mother. "Forgive the late introductions. I am Nistan Bairv, son of Cond Bairv got Kervel."

Pricel was quite a ways down the shield shaped table, so Nistan had to walk a few paces to arrive in front of the talking lords.

"Lord Bairv, we should get you a seat at the table," My father got up and suggested.

"No, please don't. I am of no status, a disgraced fourth son of the Cond. The past year, I've had the good fortune of Ipocond Phrans's employ as shadow and tutor to Lord Pricel. Of your brother though, there is some troubling news."

The man's voice was sharp, but he announced he brought bad news on a topic I had little interest in.

Rather than boring reports of the capital, I wanted to eat or go upstairs. I had never met the aunts and uncles they spoke of and had no idea what conds and keirans were and the depressing stories of arranged marriage are not for me.

Mother and father should understand when I ask to marry Ivian, right? Of course, I'll have to convince Ivian first, and there might be a few small hurdles to overcome with the 20 years gap, but love conquers all, right, right?

I peeked over Grita's arm at the shield shaped table where Ivian was setting down a platter of food.

Much better, I thought, as I was rhapsodised by the glistening russet drumsticks of two different birds meeting in the centre of the platter. Even as far away as I was, I caught the aroma distinct to birds cooked over fire that I had become used to in the months sitting with my parents at the dining table.

Today, however, Grita and I sat, not at the table, but at the edge of the room. We were not deemed appropriate participants for the welcome feast, but my parents still deemed it better to feed me in the room. Perhaps they wished to show my mature wondrous self off to visiting family.

Once the rest of the meal was served to parents and guests, Ivian came to sit by me, insisting on spoon feeding me today.

I didn't complain as much as I might have in the past. It was so rare to have any time with Ivian the past couple weeks that I relished the opportunity.

"What does the baby eat?"

A familiar boy popped up in front of us again, his curious voice bringing the attention of the whole room with it.

"Pricel, come back to your seat," mother's father scolded.

"My lord, I apologise, this is because I had not been paying attention." I flinched at Nistan's apology, grim as if he was speaking for the benefit of his disobedient charge. He turned towards the ipocond only after finishing his sentence and bowed low.

My mother, seeing this, then got flustered in turn, "Please stand Lord Nistan. Fault lies with me for having my son eat with us," She hesitated before continuing to explain herself, "Tilly is such a well mannered child, I felt it would do no harm for him to demonstrate his grace at meals."

It seemed to me that this was all being blown out of proportion. Could we not have just told Pricel what I was eating and returned to the meal?

"No, there is nothing to blame with either of you. Pricel, you know better than to stand up and wander after being seated at the table."

"Sorry grandfather," Pricel responded dejectedly as he walked back to his seat.

Perhaps Pricel was as bored as I was listening to all the political gossip.

"Semolina, Pricel" I spoke, feeling a bit sorry for the boy.

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

That was perhaps not wise, as now all the tension was directed at me.

"Semolina?" Pricel asked, stunned at the word.

"It's what Tilly is eating my lord," Ivian answered, bowing low to the wooden floor herself while interrupting the little lord's return to the table.

"Your son has the bearing of a great knight, Cianna. To be so intelligent and courteous even at such a young age.

"He really does, father," mother said joyfully to her father's comment.

"Pricel," he spoke again, this time to his grandson.

Startled at mention of his name, Pricel looked to his grandfather, then turned and smiled.

"Thank you baby cousin. May you enjoy your meal too."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Grita sat with me in my room, apart from the rest of the household.

A pitter patter of rain on the roof as we finished dinner was now a heavy grey noise to fit the colours of the darkening night.

The sound of the rain made Grita and the rest of the room seem more distant, almost separate from my little crib.

I looked at the window as I heard a shrill sound dimly above the sound of the rain.

Was it the whinny of a horse from the ipocond's retinue, wet and morose as his men camped in the distance?

The ipocond seemed sure his men would be happy, enjoying a long sleep and a warm bite to eat. But the rain that seemed melancholic and somehow comforting within reminded me of drenched clothes and muddy roads in a land of another place.

Listening for another sigh of the horse, it was a creak of wood from across the wall that caught my attention instead.

That was the room Pricel had been given, on the opposite side of my room from Ivian's chambers.

I felt a bit happier as I imagined the curious boy jumping on the bed or exploring the hidden places behind chairs or under the tables. He seemed to always be looking around enthusiastically for new things to play with.

The door creaked open, and Ivian entered.

"Tilly, you were so grown up tonight," She walked up to my crib and said enthusiastically. "The lord ipocond was so very impressed by your answer to his grandson."

"Ivian too! You were doing all the valet things!" I said, thinking of how she served the dishes during the evening.

Ivian giggled and kissed my forehead.

"And thank you Grita, for taking care of Tilly this evening."

"Yea, good evenin' miss." Grita said from her chair.

The sound of the sad horse's whinny came through the shutters again and we all looked up.

I heard it more clearly this time. It dragged on a bit and ended in a breathy whistle. It wasn't a horse at all but the sound of the wind finding cracks in the masonry.

"Your lord father had planned to show the lord ipocond and his retinue the estate and the village fields tomorrow and borrow their assistance to do a sweep of the woods. The weather being what it is though..."

She talked about how the rain was throwing off father's plans for tomorrow.

"Last winter, there was a behemoth shrieker that came in the middle of the winter, and destroyed many of the houses in the village. Although your father and the militia were able to take it down with only one death, it was a very long and cramped winter as the villagers had to share homes with those affected. It is unlikely that there are any behemoths this far south, but it was just as unlikely last year. A proper sweep through the woods would have been reassuring."

A giant appeared behind Ivian, peering into my bed.

It was large and porcine, tusks jutting from beneath its jaws and fur draping over its head and shoulders.

It seemed bigger than even the image of it was, as if it was used to looking down even at the trees.

But its gaze turned away from me, and it seemed more interested in chewing something that I couldn't see just beneath the floor boards in front of it.

Was that a behemoth? It seemed like a terrible creature if aggrieved, but a grazer just like the horses whose vegetarianism I was slowly coming to terms with.

"Aye, that was unpleasant, for sure," Grita added in, "I had to take in Jarly, and her husband and twins. Rude, the lot of them. I hope we don't see another behemoth or any shriekers anytime soon."

Shrieker was not a word I had heard of before.

Shrieking was just yelling, but if behemoths looked anything like the big and fat illusion, they shouldn't have a high-pitched cry.

Ivian and Grita seemed to be talking about something very different.

Thump, thump, thump

A knock on the door interrupted us and then mother entered the room.

She was carrying two candles, both in silver holders.

"It will be a dark night without the moonlight. Better to have a candle alight if anyone needs."

One, she gave to Ivian and the other she held onto for herself.

"Goodnight Tilly," she said, before leaving the room. "Sweet dreams until the morning."

The door creaked shut and we listened a while as the rain pattered against the shutters.

"An ill omen to have rain fall just as guests settle in."

"Don't say such unlucky things," Grita chided Ivian. "It's just a bit of rain. No 'arm will come of it."

"I should go to my room too. It has been a late night for Tilly."

"Well past his bedtime," Grita agreed. "Good night then."

"Good night Grita. Good night Tilly."

Ivian took the candle with her as she went through the door to her room and for a short moment the room descended into darkness.

But then her door creaked open a bit again and I saw her head come around the door.

"I'll just leave the door a bit open. I'll put the candle down here."

I worked again at condensing a few drops of mana in the weak, flickering light coming through Ivian's door.

Then, exhausted from the exertion on top of the late hour I felt my eyes drifting closed.

I fell asleep to the dancing shadows and the sound of the rain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crrrrk

My eyes opened drowsily as the creaking of the door broke the stillness of the night.

Ivian? I wondered vaguely, as my eyes stopped drooping closed.

But the sound came from the floor opposite Ivian's room. It was the door to the hallway.

I sat up and put my nose to the wooden grill, peeking out the gaps in cradle to see who had walked in during the night.

A silhouette of a man was stopped just inside. The candlelight only just reached him, a flicker momentarily showing dark hair and brown leather.

Thum, thum, thum

His boots thudded softly against the wood as he moved towards me.

He began to mumble something that seemed familiar, on the edge of my memory.

"Every whisper, bark or knell, from lady, pup or rustworn bell..."

As he spoke, he stopped in front of the chair where Grita was sleeping.

"... hereby under lock and seal, until light of dawn land does reveal..."

A burst of panic flared within me and I shouted. "Aa-"

Or tried to, just as my voice was cut short by the curse of silence.

It was the same one the shaman used a few weeks ago.

"Curse you," the man, puzzlingly, told me what he did. He seemed to be frustrated I had distracted him from cursing Grita.

Grita, wake up, I hoped violently.

But instead of Grita's voice, I heard the scratching of steel.

Grita lifted her head drowsily.

Splunk

I shivered and blinked as a drop of blood hit my cheek.

It was warm and sticky.

If only I had shouted earlier or-

Crrk

Another creak, this time of a door behind me.

Please no. Please not now.

I felt my heart sink into my bowels.

"Tilly?" Her voice seemed was almost drowned by the constant thrum of the rain.

"Every whisper, bark or knell, from lady, pup or rustworn bell, hereby under lock and seal..." the man started mumbled once again.

"Tilly? Is that you?" There was a tremor now in her voice.

The shadows shifted as she lifted the candle on the other side of the slightly open door.

I felt a flash of pain as my shoulder collided with the crib's cage-like wall.

"... until light of dawn land does reveal."

Ivian walked through the door.

"Who is that?" Ivian's voice was now alert and much louder.

Ivian, run.

I wanted to shout, but I was bound in silence.

"Curse of Silence."

A quick scramble of footsteps accompanied his lunge.

Thud

I heard them slam against the floor and could no longer see them.

I had to do something, get out, warn mother, anything.

I was so small, my tiny weight and height not enough to get out or knock the crib over.

The man sat up, his panting head appearing from the side.

He was working on something below him. I couldn't hear Ivian.

He looked my way and smiled.

Then he stood, dragging up Ivian's arms with him, a rope trussed around them.

He threw her over a shoulder, walked towards me and threw me on the other.

His breathing echoed in my ears as he left the room and simply walked down the stairs.