Monday, July 30, 2012

The Interpreter

Image copyright 2012 by Patricia Post"Tell him!"

Fenglan blinked rapidly and swallowed. Outside, the flames were blazing bright green through the blue glass of the cathedral windows.

"Tell him, woman!" The warlord's scaled gauntlet drifted closer to the hilt of his weapon, which in turn began to crackle and smoke.

Heart in her throat, Fenglan bowed in acquiescence and glanced up at Motui, envoy from her homeland and the man she had tried for three long years to forget. His passionate grey eyes radiated a gentle forgiveness from which Fenglan retreated immediately lest she betray her emotion. Cautiously, staring at her muddy toes, she ventured forth in their mother tongue. "His L-Lordship says the Hammer must be returned or... n-not one Ahralian will be spared."

The kneeling envoy stood and nodded in the warlord's direction. "Tell his exalted highness that he may try his best, but that we of Ahralia will never bend. And that if come morning he has set foot in our land, he will die." His eyes remained calm, steady.

It took every ounce of Fenglan's will to keep the joy from her face. She tilted her head toward her husband, eyes still on her toes. "My Lord, the lowlander promises that they will not fight. He says the Ahralians will welcome you and your chancellors to their tents in the morning, and that you may come in peace."

1 comment:

  1. Ah, very clever. I had to read it twice to figure out who was fooling who, but good job!

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