“Something like that.”
“What is your name?”
“Gamet,” the guard answered, as he followed behind the horse after shutting and locking the door. “In service to your father these last three years.”
“And before that, Gamet?
“Not a question asked.”
They came to the courtyard. Paran paused to study the guardsman “My father's usually thorough in researching the histories of those enter” Gamet grinned revealing a full set of white teeth.” h that he did.” Paran passed over the reins. He swung about and looked round the courtyard. It seemed smaller than he remembered. The old well, made by the nameless people who'd lived here before even the Kanese looked ready to crumble into a heap of dust. No craftsman would reset those ancient carved stones, fearing the curse of awakened ghosts. Under the estate house itself were similarly unmortared stones in the deepest reaches the many rooms and tunnels too bent, twisted and uneven to Servants and groundskeepers moved back and forth in the yard. None Gamet cleared his throat. “Your father and mother aren't here.”
He nodded. There'd be foals to care for at Emalau the count “Your sisters are though,” Gamet continued. “I'll have the house servants freshen up your room.”
“It's been left as it was, then?”
Gamet grinned again. “Well, clear out the extra furniture and casks.”
“As always.” Paran sighed and, without another word, made his way to the house entrance.
The feast hall echoed to Paran's boots as he strode to the long dining table. Cats bolted across the floor, scattering at his approach. He unclasped his travelling cloak, tossed it across the back of a chair, then sat at a longbench and leaned his back against the panelled wall. He closed his eyes.
A few minutes passed, then a woman's voice spoke. “I thought you were in Itko Kan.”
He opened his eyes. His sister Tavore, a year younger than him, stood close to the head of the table, one hand on the back of their father's chair.
She was as plain as ever, a slash of bloodless lines comprising her features, her reddish hair trimmed shorter than was the style. She was taller than the last time he'd seen her, nearly his own height, no longer the awkward child. Her expression revealed nothing as she studied him.
“Reassignment,” Paran said.
“To here? We would have heard.”
Ah, yes, you would have, wouldn't you? All the sly whisperings among the connected families.
“Unplanned,” he conceded, “but done nevertheless. Not stationed here in Unta, though. My visit is only a few days.”