With two days yet to pass before Faevre’s trial, Brandyé found himself in the midst of much haste—so much so that he had little time to consider the consequences of the path he was now treading. He did not again meet with the Scythe’s Blood in their cellar, but rather spent his time with Elven, who led him here and there to meet with various people who were to help him prepare for the deed that awaited him.
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Brandyé and Sonora passed an uncomfortable night in a field perhaps half a mile from the great gates of Daevàr’s Hut. The weather had turned against them during the afternoon, and now that the light had dropped from the clouds, a thick and chilling mist filled the air and forebode rain. Their cloaks were soon damp, and Brandyé found he could not light a fire; they ate a little stale biscuit and hard cheese, and were hungry. Even Isabella, though her hide ought to have kept her sheltered, seemed disaffected by the gloom and settled some paces away, spending the night snorting uncomfortably.
Continue reading The following morning, Brandyé felt his mind clear, and his decision was made. The call to ride to Elven was too strong to resist, and he began to consider how he might make his departure. To the best of his knowledge, there would be no coach to the south for many weeks, so he would need a horse—a good one, if possible. Elven’s message inspired urgency, and he would not take longer than needed if he could help it.
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Satis Writes 