Beleg slumped in a chair and sighed loudly, “Where the heck is Dain? I can’t handle this on my own.”
“Master Dain,” Grivallt said, kneeling down next to Beleg, “is with the others working on verifying funds for the first part of the auction later. He will be other indisposed for quite some time.”
“Blast…” came the curse from the big man. He shook his head and clenched his fists. “I wish Talimar were here. He would know what to do. Garth or Druckner even. They would have more ability than I to revise this plan on the fly. I really wish one of them could take charge here.”
Kre felt sorry for his large friend. He knew the warrior was smarter and wiser than Beleg believed himself to be, but he had no idea how to draw it out of him. Instead, he took a different approach, “What about Kersath?”
There was no response from Beleg other than a continued shake of his head, so Grivallt answered in his place, “That is no good, I am afraid. Your friend of the Tlehonaa’i K’aandzhi is locked away.”
“I mean, yeah,” Kre retorted, scrunching up his face in thought, “but you work for the Master, right? You have access to his suite and can get a message to Kersath for us?”
Grivallt paused and looked over at Virryn, as if seeking help from her. Receiving none, he turned to Kre, “In theory, I suppose, but the danger would be great. As I said, the Master has increased the guard to include on his own rooms.”
“But we’re not asking you to break him out, just to get him a message and get his advice.”
“I will do it,” Virryn said, entering the conversation. “I will go to your friend, but you must tell me what to say so that he knows to trust me. His…” she faltered a bit, seeking a different word but finding none suitable, “his kind are not prone to be cooperative with other Ylveryan. Most especially with those of us that have taken to work with Tehynshins.”
“I should say that I will not allow it,” Grivallt muttered, “but we all know that will do little good and will only result in more pain and suffering for me.”
“He eventually learns,” Virryn murmured. “I shall visit your Kersath when I go to retrieve the food for lunch. It will draw less attention that way I think.”
They all agreed, followed by a few minutes where Kre and Beleg worked out what Virryn should say. “The wombat is an idiot,” was the best they came up with. Neither Virryn nor Grivallt understood the reference, and both were uncertain that it would be enough to convince Kersath.
An idea popped up in Kre’s head and he dashed off to the bed with his sword in hand. One slice later and the pillow was spewing feathers all over the bed. He plucked one from the mess and returned, smiling in triumph as he presented a small black feather to Virryn. “Give this to him as well. It’s a gesture of acceptance. He’ll know it’s from me.”
Virryn took the feather with a tight-lipped nod. “You realize,” she whispered softly, her soft voice barely containing the anger she felt, “that you could have asked me to retrieve a feather from anywhere else, instead of making such a mess of the pillow.”
Kre glanced back at the room and winced as he slowly realized the extent of the feathered explosion he had unintentionally detonated in the room. “I… uh…”
“Best you not try to make it better,” Grivallt advised, giving Kre a gentle pat on the shoulder. “You will only regret it more.”