Re: Part 59d - The death tree
Cyan moves closer, looks up at the gibbet. For an instant a spasm of disgust crosses her features, there and gone. She looks away, eyes darkening to hematite, and Berd shifts nervously upon Trista's shoulder. But she sighs, passes a hand across her face, and smiles at Devlin and Trista. "Well met," is all she says aloud. More has been spoken over the bridging. Reaching out, she grips Devlin's shoulder for an instant, and her smile is broad. Again, one of those Questors who has disappeared has returned.
There have been far too many leave them forever.
Another peal of thunder rumbles across the square. The rain continues to shatter upon Berd's shield. Cyan glances up, then shrugs ruefully. James, not surprisingly, has a fine thought. The Blue Rose - the Inn to the side of the square, Devlin. Donovan, the innkeeper, understands circumspection, though I would not wish to involve him in the plot itself. Things might go ill for him. We might use his common room to discuss, or at least a corner of it, give the man some business, then be about ours. We have today and tonight.
Her gloved fingers clench in a fist. But I promise you, Trista - I will move heaven and earth to keep Beldrin from that gallows. Even if much has changed with him, he does not deserve a hanging.
No man or woman does.
Devlin, if your plan is sound we should implement it immediately. Her tone does not indicate any lack of faith in Devlin's plan - rather, her qualifier is a formality alone. Berd's silence on the matter is heavy with approval.
"A long journey for you," she says aloud, probably for the benefit of onlookers. The bard eyes the dark wanderer critically. "You have been wandering for some time, and it shows. I can certainly stand you a drink...." A wave toward the distant Blue Rose.