As he unsheathed his black dagger, a dark head rose from the heap.
"Tohr?" Darius lowered his weapon.
"Aye. " The boy turned over on his ragged bed. "Good evening, sire. "
"Whatever are you doing herein?"
"I have slept. "
"'Tis obvious, indeed. " Darius went over and knelt down. "But why- for did you not return unto your home?"
After all he had been disowned, but Hharm rarely went unto his mated abode. Surely the young one could have stayed with his mahmen ?
The boy pushed himself up to his feet and steadied himself on the wall. "Whatever time is it? Have I missed--"
Darius gripped Tohr's arm. "Did you eat?"
"Am I late?"
Darius didn't bother asking any more questions. The answers to what he wanted to know were in the manner in which the boy refused to lift his eyes: Indeed, he had been asked not to take shelter in his father's house.
"Tohrment, how many nights have you passed herein?" On that cold floor.
"I can find another place to tarry. I shall not retire here again. "
Praise the Scribe Virgin, that would be true. "Wait here, please. "
Darius ducked through the gate and checked for correspondence. As he found communications for Murhder and Ahgony, he thought about leaving one for Hharm. On the lines of, How could you possibly turn out your blooded son such that he is forced to spend the day with naught but stone for a bed and his clothes for a cover?
You arsehole.
Darius returned to Tohrment and found that the boy had packed his things up in his satchel and had his weapons strapped on.
Darius bit back a curse. "We shall go first to the female's mansion. I have something I must needs discuss with. . . that steward. Bring your things, son. "
Tohrment followed, more alert than most would be after however many days without food or proper rest.
They materialized in front of Sampsone's manse and Darius nodded to the right, indicating that they should proceed around to the back. As they came to the rear of the house, he took them to the door they had exited from the evening before and rang the banging bell.
The butler opened the way and bowed low. "Sires, whatever may we do to serve you in your quest?"
Darius stepped inside. "I should like to speak anew to the second- floor steward. "
"But of course. " Another low bow. "Perhaps you would be good enough to follow me to the front parlor?"
"We'll wait here. " Darius took a seat at the staff's well-worn table.
The doggen paled. "Sire. . . this is--"
"Where I should like to speak with the steward Fritzgelder. I see no benefit to adding to the burden of your master and mistress by their encountering us unannounced in their house. We are not guests--we are here to be of service in their tragedy. "
The butler bowed so deeply it was a wonder that he didn't fall on his brow. "Verily, you are right. I shall get Fritzgelder this very moment. Is there anything we can do to ease you?"
"Yes. We would greatly appreciate some victuals and ale. "
"Oh, sire, but of course!" The doggen bowed his way out of the room. "I should have so offered, forgive me. "
When they were alone, Tohrment said, "You don't need to do that. "