Chapter 13
Greenswatch
Jerrol awoke early feeling quite refreshed. The grey pre-dawn light was leaking into the room through the small window. The soft patter of rain explained the dampness in the air. It was raining again. The roads would be impassable.
He stretched, muscles protesting as a result of the exertions from the night before. Miraculously there were no burns on his skin. He felt luxuriously cool. As he sat up, he noticed the soft green glow emanating from his skin. A temporary after-effect of the Lady’s presence? He hoped it was temporary.
As he pondered on the Lady’s words from the previous night, the glow began to dim, and Jerrol breathed a little easier. He glanced across at Jennery, still snoring into his pillow. It had been late by the time they had stopped talking.
Jennery’s news was more disconcerting. The Grove council had a shadowy overseer calling the shots. How many other councils were infected by the same disease? He wondered what Torsion thought of it all and whether his council in Velmouth was affected.
Sighing, he decided to return to Greenswatch and hope the Lord Captain had arrived. Lord Hugh would be a good source, to begin with, and then they would search out Torsion. Decision made, Jerrol levered himself out of bed and changed into his new clothes; he didn’t dwell on where they came from. The material was soft and silky against his skin. He had never owned such fine linen before. They shimmered with a silvery grey-green hue that pulsed gently, a more tangible gift from the Lady.
It would be interesting to see if Jennery saw it the same way. His skin pulsed in rhythm but as he stamped into his boots, the two clicked in place and the glow sank into his skin, much as he had absorbed that exaltation last night. He wondered what it all meant.
He had dreamt of the Lady last night. It was as if she were determined to give him his orders all at once. He had a head full of information, and yet it was all just out of reach as his brain busily catalogued and filed it all away; maybe once he made sense of it all he might be able to access it.
He turned back to rouse Jennery and saw a small Arifel nestled on his pillow. Hesitating, he looked closer; it was a bizarre sight. A black and brown mackerel-striped kitten ending in a forked tail, and yes, those were scaly wings tucked in behind its forelegs. How long had it been there? Where had it come from? It looked young, newly hatched, another Arifel. Why were they suddenly appearing?
He tried to reconcile the cute, cuddly kitten with the fact that it had reptilian features. The creature opened large emerald-green eyes and chittered in disapproval. It snuggled further into Jerrol’s pillow and glared at him; its eyes were trying to convey a message.
Information kicked in. Arifels dated back to pre-cracking of the stone times. They hadn’t been seen since the stone had cracked, and they were highly intelligent creatures used by the Guardians to pass messages, especially vital between remote regions. They were telepathic creatures, though not with ordinary men, and they were rare, highly prized companions of the Lady’s court, or so his new memories provided him. The Arifel chittered in agreement and began to preen, flicking his forked tail in a gentle thump on the pillow.
Jerrol smiled in amusement at the creature’s antics and yet, why was he here? He perched on the side of the bed and watched the little creature. The Arifel had a pointed face and a white nose. He meeped mournfully, and Jerrol’s stomach growled. He stared into the Arifel’s mesmerising green eyes, which grew larger and more pleading as he watched. He didn’t know what Arifels ate, but he could tell he needed to scrounge some food to keep him quiet.
With a resigned sigh, he rose from the bed and glanced across at Jennery. “I’ll get food, but you have to stay there,” he said as he glared at the creature. The Arifel meeped happily and curled up on the pillow, tucking his scaly tail around his body.
He left Jennery sleeping and made his way down the stairs to the taproom. One of the young maids was trying to wash the floor with a grubby mop. He wasn’t sure that she was making much difference. She paused as he entered the room and with a twitch of her lips which might have been a smile, she made a funny bob and spoke: “You’re early for the morning meal, sir, but I could get you some bread. Fresh-baked this morning.”
“Bread would be fine,” he replied, and she bobbed again. Propping her mop against the wall, she disappeared out the back of the bar. She was back before he had a chance to move, holding a tray of bread twists and a mug of milk, which she placed on the nearest table; then she grabbed her mop and disappeared again.
Jerrol sat and inhaled the aroma of fresh-baked bread, remembering similar early mornings at Stoneford Keep, coaxing rolls from the overworked cook. His shoulders relaxed as he pulled the twist apart.
He mused over Jennery’s report of the man with the spiky hair he had followed the previous evening. Who were these people who had so insidiously infiltrated the Watches? The news of the shadowy figures controlling the council and rewriting history didn’t bode well for the people nor for the Watches of Vespiri.
Jerrol drank some milk and then broke the rest of the bread into the liquid. He carried the mug back up to his room before the Arifel came in search of him. As he climbed
