Searching for Common GroundIndex | HomePage | GameLogs | HoldfastGameLogs | Searching for Common Ground Limosa allowed herself to be led out of the room, but once they were in the corridor beyond, she tugged at Syndra's sleeve to make her stop. Syndra stopped, an inquiring look on her face. Then Limosa stooped down and, with a little sigh, jerked off her shoes. She straightened, tucked them under her arm, and nodded at Syndra, as though to say they should continue. Syndra giggled. "Wolf wasn't joking then," she grinned amiably as they continued on their way. Syndra kept up a brisk pace, made brisker by the fact that Limosa walked faster barefoot than not. The guest noticed that her hostess was constantly alert and wary as she strode purposefully through the corridors. She stopped only once, to ask a servant to bring some bread, cheese and cider, enough for three, up to her room. She did not speak to Limosa, though, until they arrived before a closed wooden door. When they reached Syndra's quarters, Kenrith sketched a bow to both of them and then continued his search. Syndra stopped to open the door, then peered into the room as if she expected someone to jump out at her. Once she determined that the room was empty, she invited Limosa inside and closed the door. Only when the door was closed did Syndra relax. "Please, make yourself comfortable," she told Limosa as she took off her own shoes. Syndra curled up on the window seat, her bare toes molding into the fabric of the cushion as she pulled her knees up under her gown. The room, though rather austere by Winterfell standards, was far more luxurious than anything Limosa had ever seen at Leaning Stone. A large feather bed, draped in intricately stitched quilts and topped with fluffy goosedown pillows, dominated the room. There was a dresser and a wardrobe against walls opposite the bed and two chairs scattered about. The single window boasted a window seat which, based on the wear of the cushion, appeared to be Syndra's favorite perch. Lovely tapestries, with fine, delicate stitching in colors that Limosa had never imagined, adorned almost all the walls. Far from following Syndra's advice, Limosa stood in the middle of the room looking around, her eyes round with wonder. Finally, she seated herself ... but on the floor, still looking around as though dazed. Well, comfort is different for everyone, Syndra realized as she cocked her head curiously. And she did want to make her best friend's daughter feel welcome. Gamely, she moved off the window seat and sat cross-legged on the floor facing Limosa. "So, I'm guessing that you either can't or simply don't talk, yes?" Syndra asked kindly. Limosa hesitated and then nodded. "All right, then. I can talk enough for both of us," Syndra smiled. "Wolf, I mean, Corryn... I call him Wolf and he calls me Little Bear but that's a long story... anyway, he never told me about you and I think he would have, so I'm guessing you came into his life fairly recently? Like within the last year?" Limosa nodded again. Syndra hesitated. "Aaand, I saw your reaction when Rhys asked about your mother. Did she... pass away recently?" she asked gently, with the sympathetic air of someone who's been through it. Limosa jumped suddenly to her feet, and before Syndra had time to react, she had reached the door, pulled it open, and was running away down the corridor beyond. "Limosa, wait!" Syndra called as she scrambled to her feet and took off running. "Come back! Please!" Limosa was fast, but with her long legs, so was Syndra. And Syndra had the advantage of knowing her way around the castle. Limosa, it appeared, had a very clear idea of where she wanted to go ... out. She took the first staircase she came to, a spiral staircase, and scooted down it. Syndra, only several seconds behind her, heard a panicked cry. "Look out!" It sounded like Edlyn, and it was followed by a thud and a yelp of pain. Syndra followed, wondering which one she was going to have to scrape off the steps - Limosa or Edlyn. Round the second curve she found Edlyn sitting on the steps, nursing her ankle. She looked up indignantly. "I was trying to be helpful and she ran right over me! Of Limosa there was no sign. Syndra uttered a little groan of frustration. "I'm sorry, Edlyn. Really I am," she said, her voice frantic and desperate. She put her hands out in front of her, urging Edlyn to sit. "Here, sit here. I'll be back to help you as soon as I catch her." And with that Syndra scooted past Edlyn and flew down the stairs. Figuring that Limosa would probably retrace her steps and go to the last place she had seen Corryn, Syndra ran down a side passage and crashed out through a servant's door into the courtyard, hoping to head her off. She ran toward the band of Laughing Knives as they began to set up their camp, yelling "PHALAN!!" at the top of her lungs, and looking for Limosa as she ran. She saw a group of the Knives crowded around together. Phalan was one of them, but when he hjeard her he walked swiftly across, frowning a little. "Now, Miss Syndra," he said, his tone much as it was when he used to scold her at ten. "Whatever have you been saying to our lady to upset her so?" She looked up at Phalan, then over to the group, who she now noticed had actually enveloped Limosa into their midst to the point where it was hard to even see her. "I... I didn't... I..." Syndra stammered as tears welled up in her eyes. Seeing Limosa there, being comforted by Corryn's men - the men who used to comfort her - suddenly made Syndra feel like the menacing outsider. "I tried to help... the maester... he... asked about her... mother" Syndra whispered the last word. "And I just tried to... Oh!" Frustrated and heartbroken, Syndra stamped her foot and whirled away from the big man, running back to the door she came out of. Once inside, she slammed it behind her and leaned against the wall, finally allowing the tears to overcome her. Not wanting to be heard, she stood and sobbed without sound, wiping at her tears with the heel of her hand and sniffling back so as not to ruin her court dress. "It's not fair," she whispered to herself. The betrothal, the murder, Ser Herys and his accusations against Rhys, and now this. Wolf had trusted her to take care of the girl and the first thing she did was make her cry. She wanted her father, or Wolf, to hold her and make it better, like they used to when she was little. She wanted Rhys to hold her like... to just hold her. She wanted someone to protect her; to take care of her. For a change. Instead, though, she took several deep breaths and dried her eyes. She had left Edlyn on the stairs, hurt. She had to go take care of her. But Edlyn was no longer alone. When Syndra rounded the corner, she saw Lady Celia standing over her daughter, arms akimbo, while Edlyn's lively face had shut up into that closed blank mask she always wore for her mother. Lady Celia turned. "Syndra - what has been going on here? How comes Edlyn to be hurt?" Edlyn started to speak - a sharp gesture from her mother silenced her. Syndra took a deep breath to compose herself, then she looked at Lady Celia. With an unwavering gaze she said evenly, "I'm terribly sorry, Lady Celia. I was running down the stairs and bumped into Edlyn. She twisted her ankle. I told her to stay here while I looked for the Maester." Edlyn rolled her eyes behind her mother's back. "And did you find him?" demanded Lady Celia icily. "I shall inquire presently why you and Edlyn tell different tales." "Well, it was my fault," said Edlyn. "I tripped and fell, as I said. Syndra was passing at the time, but really, she barely touched me!" Lady Celia ignored this magnificently. "Did you find him?" she inquired again. "No, m'lady, I did not," Syndra answered. She thought to add more, but decided instead to keep it simple so as not to be caught in another lie. "Perhaps I could help Edlyn up to our room so she might be more comfortable while I continue to search," she suggested. "Certainly," said Lady Celia. "And you may remain there until I decide upon your punishment. I shall find Maester Sewell." "Yes, m'lady," Syndra responded demurely. Once Lady Celia breezed away, Syndra leaned over and helped Edlyn get up. "How bad is it? Can you walk?" she asked with concern, offering as much support as Edlyn needed to rise. At close range, Edlyn, who knew Syndra much better than Celia did from their two years of sharing covers and secrets, could see Syndra had been crying recently. "I can hop," said Edlyn phlegmatically. "Even better if you'll lend me your shoulder to lean on." "Of course," Syndra said, draping Edlyn's arm over her shoulders and wrapping a hand around her waist. She helped her up carefully and started up the stairs, taking it as slowly as Edlyn needed to. She looked at Syndra curiously. "What's wrong, Syndra? You look as though ... " She hopped up a step. "You've been crying." Every once in a while, it occurred to Syndra how fortunate she was to have Edlyn for a friend. This was one of them. She cast a sad smile at Edlyn and said, "I'll tell you when we get to the room." The two girls limped their way back to the room they shared. Syndra settled Edlyn onto the bed and propped her foot up on her own pillows. It was the least she could do after treating her so badly this morning. She slipped off Edlyn's shoe and examined the ankle carefully. "It's swelling a little. An ice pack would be better, but this might help." Syndra poured some water into the basin and drenched a washcloth in it. The water was still quite cold after the chilly night. She wrung out the cloth and draped it gently over Edlyn's elevated ankle. After ensuring that Edlyn was comfortable, Syndra crossed to her own side of the bed and laid down on her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows facing Edlyn. "I'm sorry about this morning. Being so short with you, I mean. And about Limosa running over you." She rubbed her temples, trying to ease the headache that was coming on. "Everything's falling to the seven hells, Edlyn. And I just... I don't know. It's just too much. That's why I was crying," she explained wearily. Edlyn didn't say anything. She just held out her arms so that Syndra could feel the comfort of a hug. Syndra accepted the hug gratefully, then sat cross-legged at the foot of her own side of the bed, smoothing her dress out over her knees. She was still barefoot. Presently Edlyn said, "Who's Limosa? I think, if one's going to be trampled half to death by someone, one should at least know who they are." "Now there's a story," Syndra began wryly. "Supposedly, she's Ser Corryn's daughter. I've no idea how that happened, since he never mentioned having a daughter before. It sounds like a recent development. If I had to guess, I'd say it's a step-daughter, not a bastard, by the way he was leering at her. I'm going to have to have a talk with him about that," she commented with a disapproving frown. Edlyn's eyes were wide. "Do you think he's just *saying* she's he's daughter and she's *really* his mistress?" she demanded. Syndra shook her head. "I doubt it. He never denied Odette as his mistress. But that was how he was looking at her. Like Odette." "Anyway, she doesn't talk. I don't know if she can't, or just won't, but she doesn't. And, by the gods, don't say the word "mother" around her. That's what sent her flying. When I found her, the Laughing Knives had all gathered around her as if I'd tried to murder the girl." She rolled her eyes, trying to hide the sting of that rejection. "You'd think she was the only one who's ever lost her mother," she muttered bitterly. Edlyn shot a quick look at her and then lowered her eyes. Clearly Syndra would not be amused if she offered to give Lady Celia to Limosa. Instead she said, a little diffidently, "If you've never heard of her before, perhaps the whole thing only happened recently. Perhaps her mother died very recently and she's still ... sort of raw. Rawer," she qualified hastily. "I'm certain it did..." Syndra snapped, then stopped herself, realizing how childish and petty and... jealous... she sounded. She dropped her head and snorted in self-deprecation. "Yes, I'm certain it did," she said more sympathetically, remembering her own first weeks of shock, grief and tears. She silently wished her mother was here now. And Gavrin. She missed him most of all. Syndra picked at the stitching of the quilt in front of her. "I dreamed about her last night, y'know. My mother," she murmured at last, not looking up. "At least I think it was a dream. It was so real I actually went outside to look for her." Edlyn gave a little shiver. "And ... did you find her?" she asked. Syndra shook her head. "No. Whoever it was was too far ahead of me. She went off into the woods and I didn't dare follow, considering all that's been happening. Oh, that reminds me..." Syndra hopped off the bed and perched instead on the window seat, gazing downward into the courtyard. "I want to watch for people to start entering the Great Hall. I have something to say at the trial." Syndra's voice tingled with excitement. "You?" Edlyn's voice rose almost to a squeak. "Oh, Syndra ... what? And do they think they'll let you, or will they say that you're just-a-girl?" "They'll let me," Syndra answered, perhaps a bit too confidently. "Rhys will back me up and he's a witness. As to what..." she chewed her lip uncertainly, "I really can't tell you, and you'll know why after you hear what I have to say. For now, let's just say that the old gods might have answered your prayers after all," she smiled slyly. Edlyn's eyes widened. "I knew it!" she said triumphantly. "For all that you and Godwyn scoffed! So Evan Tamm will save you ... " "Shhhh!" Syndra hushed her. "The Boltons will hear!" she whispered. Edlyn frowned. "He's not very romantic though, is he?" she said. "I mean, a sellsword, and a murderer. And he's awfully rude." Syndra chuckled at Edlyn's priorities, then she grew serious. "He said some things to me last night while I was outside," she told Edlyn in a whisper. "Things that... might make a difference, if they're true. But only if the Boltons are not forewarned. That's why I can't tell you. I can't risk anyone overhearing." Edlyn nodded and then stuck out her injured foot. "Strap it up," she instructed. "I am not missing this for the whole of Westeros - and all the Free Cities besides!" Syndra laughed, a welcome giggle in an otherwise lousy couple of days. She hopped off the window seat and opened the dresser. After a moment of staring into it and shuffling things around, she brought forth a small bolt of sewing linen. She cut a long strip off with her knife and proceeded to bind Edlyn's ankle, using techniques she had seen Maester Sewell use to bind her own after similar injuries. Of course, Edlyn's dainty slipper no longer fit over the bandage. Syndra leaned down to grab one of her own larger ones and discovered something else on the floor - Limosa's discarded slippers. With a heavy sigh, Syndra picked them up to bring with her. Even if the girl was no longer speaking to her (Syndra couldn't help but smile at the unspoken pun), she could at least return them to Wolf. "Ready?" she asked Edlyn as she offered her shoulder for leaning once again. Edlyn set her jaw determinedly and nodded. "Where to?" she asked. "The Hall?" She set her good foot to the floor, tested the other, and winced. "I'll hop," she decided. "Are you certain?" Syndra asked worriedly even as she helped Edlyn out the door. "I could fetch Godwyn to carry you." But coming along the corridor, she saw an even more welcome sight - her father. He smiled warmly when he saw her, but then his expression changed to one of concern, seeing Edlyn's ankle. "What has happened?" he asked. "Limosa," Syndra sighed. "She knocked Edlyn down on the stairs when she got upset and ran." She looked up at her father hopefully. "Could you help me get her down to the Hall? Maester Rhys was there a few moments ago. Perhaps he could look at it before the trial." "Perhaps he could," said Godfrey. "But what happened to Limosa, Syndra? Apparently she is very upset - Corryn is cursing himself that he told no-one she's mute. Was that the mis-understanding?" "No, I figured that out," she answered. "I introduced her to the Maesters on the way through the Hall, and Rhys asked a question about her mother. He didn't mean to upset her. He was just trying to be polite. I managed to calm her a little and brought her up here. I thought perhaps, you know, since I'd been through it... perhaps I could help." She shook her head, discouraged. "It just made it worse. She flew out of here like a mad woman, and ran Edlyn down on the way. I followed her and tried to tell Phalan what happened, but he was angry about her being upset and..." She shrugged and looked away, trying to quell the tears that had started again. "I'm sorry, Father. I hope it didn't interrupt your meeting." "No," said Ser Godfrey, "no - matters are well in hand for the trial. He has gone now to see how she fares." He gave a little sigh. "Ser Corryn told me that she had been treated very cruelly by her true father, who died. And when Corryn found her, she was with her mother, who was dying herself. Corryn married her - to protect her children more than anything else. Deal kindly with Limosa, Syndra, even if her ways do seem ... strange." Syndra chewed her lip, considering this, and nodded silently. For a moment he was silent, as though turning something over in his mind, and then he seemed to recollect himself and smiled at his daughter once more. "But you and I need to talk, Syndra." He looked doubtfully at Edlyn, but before he could say anything, there was a clatter on the stairs and Oland heaved into view. "Your pardon, Ser Godfrey," he panted. "Master Godwyn has asked me to escort the young ladies." Godfrey's face cleared. "You can escort Mistress Edlyn down to the Great Hall. She has injured her ankle ... she may need your stout arm, Oland." And while Oland obeyed him, Godfrey escorted Syndra back to her room. "Now," he said, "we should talk." "Yes," she agreed wholeheartedly, gesturing at the chairs and bed, indicating he should sit wherever he chose. For herself, she took up her previous position at the foot of the bed, legs crossed beneath her gown. "This trial," he said. "It might prove unpleasant, sweetling. It seems the leader of the sellswords can claim some relationship to Ser Herys." Syndra nodded gravely as she sorted out the lies in her head. How much to tell him, how much had she told others. She looked at him solemnly. "All trials are unpleasant, Father. And they often bring out information previously unknown to those looking on. It remains my duty to attend, however, as a true Hardy and your heir. I will be there to support you as you serve justice, Boltons or no," she said gently, yet with a firmness that brooked no argument. Unconsciously, the thumb of her right hand caressed her left wrist as her hands lay lightly folded in her lap. "I would expect no less," he said quietly. "I just wish to make sure that ... you understand what might lie ahead." He reached out and laid his broad hand over hers. "Syndra," he said, "if anything were to happen ... in the past, your guardian would have been my brother. But now ... I have decided to name Ser Corryn to stand in place of your father. I think you know why." Syndra felt a cold shiver of fear shoot through her. Her hand tightened on her father's. "Do you... do you really think they would go to such lengths? And... does Wolf know? Have you told him this?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even. Godfrey, however, knew his daughter well enough to sense her fear. "Not yet," said Godfrey. "But he will know it. He will know it." He was quiet for a moment, and then smiled. "But enough of this, sweetling! We are together again - and my stay looks to be longer this time. Let's take what pleasure we can from that, shall we?" Syndra smiled wanly as she tried to put her fears aside. She was a Hardy and she would hold as fast as her father. She wrapped her arms around Godfrey's waist and squeezed, resting her head on his shoulder. "And for that, I am grateful, Father. Once this is all behind us, we should spend some time riding together. Perhaps Wolf and Limosa will ride with us and we can get to know the girl better." "I would like that," said Godfrey. Then he stretched out a hand. "Come, sweetling. We had best go to the Great Hall ... unless there is something else you need to tell me." Syndra took his hand and rose, but hesitated at his question. "Father..." she began tentatively, "if Evan Tamm is found guilty, will his penalty be death or... would other circumstances be allowed to be considered?" "Do you mean will he be sent to the Wall? I doubt it, sweetling. That's the penalty for men who kill in bar-room brawls. This was a murder that might not have required much thought before - but there was certainly an attempt to conceal it afterwards." She looked into his eyes and made a decision. If she couldn't trust her father, who could she trust? She held his hand and leaned in close. "What if he had information that could void this marriage contract, if it's true?" she asked softly. The intensity of her gaze revealed this not to be a rhetorical question. Ser Godfrey looked at her intently. "Tell me," he said... |
