Nightfire | The Whispering Wall #1

Fifteen: Ethred

At first, she ignored the hand on her leg. As long as it did not move, she could breathe and find her centre before she did something stupid.

Nova took a long breath and stared resolutely into the wine glass in front of her, telling herself there was no weight on her leg and the warmth was her imagination. Her eyes flicked to her fork, its points gleaming in the light of the candles on the table, and then back to the wine.

Ethred pretended he didn't notice, though she knew he was waiting for a reaction from her. She wasn't going to give him one.

Unless the hand moved.

The wine rippled as Faellian laughed at something Ethred had said, slapping the table. The glass wobbled but didn't fall, and Nova briefly contemplated knocking it again so it splashed on her lap. It wouldn't mean she could leave, of course, but it might get the baron to keep his hands to himself. It had been sitting in front of her all evening, in a laughable attempt at making it look like Harkenn held her in any esteem whatsoever, but she knew well enough that if she did touch anything she would be lashed and spend the night in her cage.

"Ah, but on a serious note, Faellian," Ethred said, sobering. He stared at the lord across the table over his goblet, and the glare he received in return was only half in jest.

"Go on, Ethred," Faellian said, eyes unwaveringly cold even as he smiled. "What could be so very serious?"

"Eril is...slipping," Ethred said carefully. "Making mistakes. Priests aren't being directed efficiently. Twice this week death urns have been smuggled from the temple itself without anyone noticing."

"And the temple authority has taken no measure to make up for the...slipping?" Faellian asked. His words were also careful. "Can the temple authority say for certain that the cause is Eril's inefficiency, not the incompetence of those on duty at the time?"

"I have a copy of the rotation of duty," Ethred said. His hand finally left Nova's leg as he turned and beckoned to an acolyte standing in the corner of the room guarding a bag, half-shrouded in darkness. The boy, small and pale, seemed to struggle with the weight of it.

"Take yourself to the library, Silas," the baron muttered, rifling through the documents in the bag without looking at the boy. "This isn't your business."

If the boy's aura hadn't given off such a strong flash of fear, Nova wouldn't have looked twice at him as he darted from the room. She followed him out with her eyes, trying to find a reason for him to fear having to leave and seeing nothing. She looked to the baron. Ethred was an imposing man, with a sharp face and square jaw and eyes that didn't make it hard to intimidate people with a glance alone. Yet he was not looking at Silas, intent on finding his paperwork, and Nova saw nothing suspicious in a quick scan of the baron's aura; only the faint whiff of something that indicated he wasn't done bothering her.

"Well," Faellian said, jolting her from her thoughts. "This does seem a little...haphazard."

He scanned the parchment again and then put it down. Without looking at Ethred, he said, "Does no one check it before it is put into use?"

"His clerk," Ethred said, "But his clerk's comments result in punishment, so he sends it out as Eril dictates."

Faellian gave him a bland smile. "Then I will talk to Eril about the matter. Is there anything else you wish to bring to my attention?"

Ethred paused.

"I haven't noticed any difference in Eril's character, personally," the lord said lightly, "But when he ceases to be the best authority in Shadow's Reach in matters of state finances, we can talk again on this subject."