The Stone Sorceress

Chapter 12-13

The 85th refreshed themselves. The Lemurian staff attended to washing their clothing, and had prepared fine replacements for the meanwhile. A wonderful meal was set, and so it was that the 85th sat in the main reception room talking, much more relaxed, when Eros cast his eyes in Astraea's direction. She appeared to him uncomfortable. "What's the matter?"

She paused, "I have no need to remain." Sabriel opened her mouth to speak, but Eros silenced her with a curt glance. Astraea continued, "I shall leave you now, I think, adieu."

Astraea walked towards the door, "Where will you go?" Eros asked. She paused and shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know, perhaps I'll find a cabaret in which to pass the evening. Then, who knows."

Once more she moved towards the exit.

"I'll come with you."

These words came from Eros's lips before even he was aware of it. For some reason this woman captivated him. It pained him to think that she might go.

Sabriel cleared her throat, and motioned to the princess's room above.

"You and Typhon can watch the princess, we'll only be a short while."

So it was that Eros and Astraea walked the Lemurian streets. They found a tavern sat on the corner of a busy cobbled street. It was made in obsidian like all the country's buildings, and inside there were long tables of wood where large jugs of beer sat. There was a buoyant mood as the people drank, laughed, and talked.

They entered, purchased a bottle of wine, and took up a seat in a quiet corner. Eros undid the cork, poured out two glasses, and began to drink. Astraea for her part was reserved; she barely touched the wine, and spoke little. She looked at Eros still less.

The knight turned his attention to the tavern instead, appreciating that Astraea needed time to grieve. The Lemurians chattered, their tongue was not too dissimilar to Hyperion's, so he understood much of the conversations taking place. They all centred upon the same subject: the Grendel. Astraea perceived the way in which he leaned forward, and the concentration upon his countenance.

The evening wore on, and Eros had fallen into a revery. He was considering the tales about the monster when - at the bar - an elderly man began to glance over. The man's face had evidently been slashed by a sabre. He spoke to others and gestured with his eyes to the foreigners. Soon there was a group of men eyeballing Eros and Astraea.

Then they came over. The scarred man thrust both hands down. He leant over the table with breath like a brewery, and snarled, "We know who you are." Eros, disturbed from his reflections, looked up. The drunkard went on, "You're Eros, aren't you?"

Eros didn't reply. His mission was the princess. It wouldn't do for him to be in a bar room brawl, potentially harming the prospects of the marriage. He thus sat, wondering how he was to extricate himself without it coming to blows.

"You killed our king," one execrated, "Murderer!" Another shouted.

The scarred man spat at Eros, then he saw Astraea.

"This your mistress?"

The actress hadn't before stirred, but now she turned to look upon the man with such an expression of hatred that had it not been for the drink, it would have certainly caused the man to reflect.

"We'll take it in turns with her," he said.

Eros opened his mouth to defend Astraea, marriage or no, he wouldn't stand for such language, but the violent expression painted on her face caused him to stop. He focused on her, but in the next moment, the serene waxen pallor returned to that ineffable mademoiselle.