Groggily, against the blinding sunshine, Lerran opened his eyes. Tass’s legs were entangled with his own, though one of his feet was stuck out of the blanket in the chilled air. Lerran had only warm memories of the night before, so he let his toes curl in the cool breeze that drifted in the window with the rays of golden light.
They ate a small breakfast together, provided by the household staff. Lerran smiled when he tasted the hint of cinnamon in his coffee. News had reached them yesterday of a volcano in the distant city of Ellakar. Supposedly, its destruction had been absolute, and the sound and sight of the blast had been seen for hundreds of miles around. Lerran told Tass that he though he heard a strange thunder on the road to Lo Mallago, and she laughed. She had heard the same thing, one day in the garden.
He had some paperwork to fill out as soon as he got to his office; Eseveer had left a small pile on his desk. First were some profit reports from a handful of smuggling runs to Keth, Kedar, and to Bellasa. Another was the monthly statement from the Burgundy Tavern, a local brothel. There were a few offers of business, mainly contracts for burglarizing goods from various establishments on the Great Isle or East Radregar.
He listened to the clatter of training swords and spears in the yard, and one of his sisters, probably Gadra, playing a lute downstairs. He pulled his flask of rum out of the bottom drawer and poured himself a cup, and then continued signing the parchments.
“Letter for you,” Eseveer said, sticking her head in the door.
“Here,” Lerran said, reaching out his hand. She put it in his palm and turned away, her long violet skirt spinning as she strode back across the office to her exterior office.
Lerran cracked the unmarked black seal and unrolled the scroll. The thick parchment was signed, “Your ally, Havard.” He sighed, and set the letter down for a moment to take a long sip of his rum. He pursed his lips, inhaled, and then picked up the letter once more. He read it to himself. “To the Prince of Sheld, I spend my days using my divine powers to aid the people of Kedar, as you may remember. It is not often that this destiny of mine allows me to help those abroad, but I will not shy from my responsibilities. I must warn you of a vision I have had. It seems your half-sister Antha may soon cause an interference in your affairs. I am afraid she plans to leave Sheld, and the life you’ve provided her, and she may steal or cause other chaos in order to leave securely and beneficially. Unfortunately, I cannot say how soon this may occur. I’ll leave this matter in your hands of course, but be warned. Do not allow this to jeopardize your Family. Your ally, Havard.”
He uttered a curse, and took another drink. Leaving the letter on his desk, Lerran strode to his window and looked down at the small flower plot in front of the house. “Antha, Antha,” he murmured. He was more irritated about Havard though, but the strange man’s insights had proven true so far. How, by the gods, did Havard know that she was only his half-sister? No one aside from Lerran and Antha knew that, so far as he could count, though presumably his father yet lived, and Lerran had no way of knowing who Gharo had told. Of course, what Lerran knew, Tassina knew too; he trusted her implicitly.
He locked the letter in his desk drawer, of course. There was nothing to do immediately; he would just need to wait and be aware of his sister’s difficulties. He looked at the few documents remaining. It was probably another hour of work, so he dabbed his quill in the inkwell and scrawled his name once more.