Finn has a seat

Osh had betrayed him again. Finn had known this meeting would happen eventually, and if Osh had told him that now was the time, he would have come downstairs just as docilely.
But Osh had preferred to lie.

Osh had betrayed him again. Finn had known this meeting would happen eventually, and if Osh had told him that now was the time, he would have come downstairs just as docilely.
But Osh had preferred to lie.

That young Sebastien was coming up the path from Paul’s front door.
Egelric was generally more amused than offended by Sebastien’s arrogance and impudence—Egelric had a tough hide and had, moreover, been twenty once. But today his impressions were darkly clouded by the fact that this silk-clad cockerel was apparently one more of the many people who were admitted access where Egelric was barred. Egelric was beginning to believe he would be the last man in Lothere to spend an afternoon with his son.

At this hour and in such cloudy weather, the west-facing window of the back hall let in only a dull, dead-colored light. The candles Osh had carried in cast a narrow, too-golden glow, and beyond that, the rich saffrons and ochres of the wall were strained to lukewarm beige and taupe and gray.
It scarcely mattered for what he was painting, but he could find no joy in the contemplation of the rest of the work this morning. Perhaps it would seem no more golden at sunset.

The rain must have been ice-cold, for the panes of the window were as wet on the inside as out. Outside, however, the water slid down the glass in slick, transparent sheets. Inside it was a clinging fog, and Flann saw nothing.


Lar could see Pima peering out through a rent in the curtain just before he pulled it aside. He did not doubt she was hoping to see Ilal.
He had said it was to indulge Ilal that he had come with his four instead of sending some of the others.

The moon was round and bright, perhaps perfectly full, perfectly balanced between lightening and darkening.
Llia had thought it normal that it should be so on this night of the year, when the hours of darkness were perfectly balanced by the hours of day, but Palina had told her it happened seldom. She had said that Llia was too young to have any perspective, to know what was normal and what was rare. She was too young to have paid attention to such things.

Egelric had opened the door and slammed it behind him before Alred even looked up from his letter. He was not accustomed to unannounced interruptions, but the look on Egelric’s face showed just how little chance the guards had of stopping him.

Eithne awoke to a fumbling sound at her window and a thump onto her bedroom floor. Her eyes ached at the moonlight that jammed itself up beneath her lids, but she dared not blink; she had to see. She could move no more than her eyes.
“Whisht!” the shadow whispered hoarsely. “It’s only my own self!”

Oswald lifted the whining baby to his shoulder and whined louder than he. “I don’t think he likes me, Mouse.”
“I think he simply doesn’t like men,” Mouse said. “He cries for Papa too, and oh did he ever cry when he got a look at Sir Egelric!”

The screaming and squealing had not stopped: a lucky thing, for it meant not only that Lar and Imin had been able to follow the sound to the source, but also that there were still elves alive to scream.

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