Chapter 9

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Chapter 9


                Artair was buoyant. He felt as if he was floating upon the air, as the squalid surroundings just passed by without any consequence. The chill was not felt, the smell was not registered, and the sun was only recognised for the way it lit his way back to the house where he could plan his attack once more. For Rohesia would more than likely try and talk herself out of the deal they had come too, even if it had been her idea to begin with.


                He whistled a jolly little tune, and nodded jauntily at the old woman who paused to watch him pass with a puzzled brow. He was young again, feeling more his age than he had for years. He could not stop from adding a little spring to his step, and realising only just in time that Alfred may still be within the same house he was heading towards, he turned swiftly down an alley way. Wanting to come in through the back entrance, and maybe have the possibility of overhearing Kendrick and Alfred in discussion. That was if he was right and Alfred was still in discussion at this moment.


                The door creaked and he cringed at the sound. He knew how that sound could travel through the house at its quietest moments and he did not want it to disrupt anything that could be happening within. For knowing his luck of late, it would be a crucial moment that he disturbed and stopped all talks in their tracks. Holding his breath he stepped through the doorway and closed the squeaking door behind him once more. A gust of breath leaving him when he still heard the rumble of voices in the quiet after the door had closed solidly in front of him.


                With a small smile of relief on his face, he dodged around the large kitchen table, and somehow ended up knocking into the rather sharp corner, causing him to bite his tongue and squeeze his eyes together. Rubbing at the spot on his thigh, trying not to cause any more noise than he already had. For someone who wanted to keep the noise to a minimum he really was trying to make as much as possible, or so it seemed. Shaking his head to focus he managed to make it to the door which was open a crack, and put his eye to the slit to try and see and hear into the room beyond.


                The conversation was, unfortunately on the opposite side of the room, and while he could make out the back of Kendrick, and see the side of Alfred as he sat bathed in the light of the hearth. The two were in a heated debate, but from his hiding place, he could not hear the specifics. It was not long he had to wait before the argument grew even more impassioned and Alfred proved this by pushing violently back from the small, roughhewn table. His chair flying backwards, before toppling over with a solid thump upon the floor. Artair tensed, his fingers clenching against the doorframe to keep himself from charging to his friends rescue. It was what he would have done at any other time, and it went against the grain to not do so now. But he needed to stay in the shadow of the kitchen area, for if he did not Alfred would be tipped off as to his involvement, and he could not allow that to happen.

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