inside. He invited them to sit.
“I can’t promise the Major will see you,” he said, “but if you’ll wait here, I’ll find out. Someone will bring you refreshments.” He left, closing the door behind him.
Taran glanced around the room as Cal and Rienne took chairs in front of a heavy wooden table. The lack of personal items or military paraphernalia puzzled the Journeyman: if the room was an office, as the Captain had implied, then surely it was seldom used. All it contained was a heavy, dark wooden table, a few chairs, and rush matting on the floor. There was another door behind the table opposite the one they had entered, but it was firmly closed.
The austerity of his surroundings bothered Taran. He felt uneasy, almost abandoned, and the feeling heightened his anxiety over how his story would be received. He was suddenly convinced that coming here wasn’t such a good idea.
However, he couldn’t leave now. Resigned to the wait, he sank into a large, comfortable chair and tried to control his nerves.
The wait was interminable and Taran’s patience was quickly exhausted. The Captain had obviously forgotten them, even the promised refreshments hadn’t arrived. On the verge of anger, Taran was about to look for someone to complain to when the door finally opened.
A slender young woman entered the room and Taran glared at her, seeing a chance to vent his frustration. She was in her late teens or early twenties and was dressed in a loose-fitting white shirt and dark green breeches. There was no rank insignia that Taran could see; she was obviously some kind of secretary or aide. Well, he thought, at least they might now get the promised fellan.
The woman didn’t speak as she slowly crossed the room and Taran frowned. How small she was, he thought, the top of her head would only just have reached his shoulder. Her delicately featured face was drawn and pale, and suddenly he noticed that she walked with a slight limp. The more he watched her, the more he revised his initial dismissive impression because despite her pallor and frailty, she was beautiful. A magnificent wealth of shining tawny hair rippled over her shoulders and back. This was eye-catching and unusual enough, but it was her eyes that captivated Taran. Set in her small, fine-featured face, they were huge and golden: very striking. He couldn’t recall ever seeing eyes quite like them.
As she reached the heavy table, she steadied herself with one hand and turned to face them. “I am sorry you have had such a long wait.”
Her voice was soft and low with a musical lilt, the likes of which Taran had never heard. She spoke gently, deliberately, without blurring her words together as most people did. Lovely as her voice was, however, Taran’s concern for his village and fear of embarrassment got the better of him. He was in no mood to wait any longer.
“We came here with potentially important information,” he said. “Is Major Sullyan going to see us or not? I appreciate he might be busy, but we’ve been on the road for two days. I’d rather not waste any more time.”
Her huge eyes fastened on him and a peculiar shiver ran the length of his spine. Before she could answer, however, the door burst open and a huge man, well over six feet tall, solidly muscled and florid of face, strode forcefully into the room.
At last, thought Taran, as the man he had been expecting finally appeared. The newcomer’s imposing presence and well worn combat leathers gave him a distinct aura of authority even though Taran couldn’t see any rank insignia. He stared at the man, expecting to be noticed, but the newcomer didn’t even glance at him.
“There you are,” the big man snapped, his deep bass voice filling the room. “I’ve been looking all over for you since Hanan told me you’d left the infirmary. What on Earth did you think you were doing, walking out like that? How the Void do you expect us to cope if we
“I can’t promise the Major will see you,” he said, “but if you’ll wait here, I’ll find out. Someone will bring you refreshments.” He left, closing the door behind him.
Taran glanced around the room as Cal and Rienne took chairs in front of a heavy wooden table. The lack of personal items or military paraphernalia puzzled the Journeyman: if the room was an office, as the Captain had implied, then surely it was seldom used. All it contained was a heavy, dark wooden table, a few chairs, and rush matting on the floor. There was another door behind the table opposite the one they had entered, but it was firmly closed.
The austerity of his surroundings bothered Taran. He felt uneasy, almost abandoned, and the feeling heightened his anxiety over how his story would be received. He was suddenly convinced that coming here wasn’t such a good idea.
However, he couldn’t leave now. Resigned to the wait, he sank into a large, comfortable chair and tried to control his nerves.
The wait was interminable and Taran’s patience was quickly exhausted. The Captain had obviously forgotten them, even the promised refreshments hadn’t arrived. On the verge of anger, Taran was about to look for someone to complain to when the door finally opened.
A slender young woman entered the room and Taran glared at her, seeing a chance to vent his frustration. She was in her late teens or early twenties and was dressed in a loose-fitting white shirt and dark green breeches. There was no rank insignia that Taran could see; she was obviously some kind of secretary or aide. Well, he thought, at least they might now get the promised fellan.
The woman didn’t speak as she slowly crossed the room and Taran frowned. How small she was, he thought, the top of her head would only just have reached his shoulder. Her delicately featured face was drawn and pale, and suddenly he noticed that she walked with a slight limp. The more he watched her, the more he revised his initial dismissive impression because despite her pallor and frailty, she was beautiful. A magnificent wealth of shining tawny hair rippled over her shoulders and back. This was eye-catching and unusual enough, but it was her eyes that captivated Taran. Set in her small, fine-featured face, they were huge and golden: very striking. He couldn’t recall ever seeing eyes quite like them.
As she reached the heavy table, she steadied herself with one hand and turned to face them. “I am sorry you have had such a long wait.”
Her voice was soft and low with a musical lilt, the likes of which Taran had never heard. She spoke gently, deliberately, without blurring her words together as most people did. Lovely as her voice was, however, Taran’s concern for his village and fear of embarrassment got the better of him. He was in no mood to wait any longer.
“We came here with potentially important information,” he said. “Is Major Sullyan going to see us or not? I appreciate he might be busy, but we’ve been on the road for two days. I’d rather not waste any more time.”
Her huge eyes fastened on him and a peculiar shiver ran the length of his spine. Before she could answer, however, the door burst open and a huge man, well over six feet tall, solidly muscled and florid of face, strode forcefully into the room.
At last, thought Taran, as the man he had been expecting finally appeared. The newcomer’s imposing presence and well worn combat leathers gave him a distinct aura of authority even though Taran couldn’t see any rank insignia. He stared at the man, expecting to be noticed, but the newcomer didn’t even glance at him.
“There you are,” the big man snapped, his deep bass voice filling the room. “I’ve been looking all over for you since Hanan told me you’d left the infirmary. What on Earth did you think you were doing, walking out like that? How the Void do you expect us to cope if we
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