[Nurumaiel]

Morashk stood a few moments longer in the shadows of the corridor, and then turned and hastened away before the Lady Arshalous made any reply to the King. Anger and resentment, nay, hatred, swelled up within him, but something was there that he did not expect, and did not welcome... a strange sorrow. Faint though it may be, 'twas there, and he hated himself for being so weak.

Lord Korak was pacing up and down in his room impatiently, muttering curses under his breath, and scowling heavily. When he saw Morashk enter the room he hardly noticed how pale and trembling his servant was, for wasn't Morashk always pale and trembling? He did not pause in his pacing, but neither did he hesitate a moment before snapping out: "Well, are they finished yet?" And he went on, muttering, before Morashk could reply. "Curse the Lady Arshalous for her impudence in my own household. What right has she to come about and order me about? And curse Gjeelea for seeming pleased at the idea." He fell silent then, for he would not yet curse his mother.

"My Lord Korak," said Morashk, straight and stiff yet sagging against the wall at the same time, "the King has just been speaking with Lady Arshalous."

"The King, here?" cried Lord Korak, and he ceased his walking and stared wide-eyed for a moment. Then the scowl returned to his face. "Curse my cousin and my wife! Did they not have the good sense to tell me? If the King comes to my home, what will he think if the master of the house does not greet him, but merely lets him be?"

"My Lord Korak!" Morashk gasped, and Korak noticed for the first time how distraught his servant was. Morashk had always been a nervous sort of man, but his actions now were not nervous. He seemed excited, in a very unpleasant way.

"What is it?" Korak demanded. "Speak up, man! Did they say anything... significant?"

"Yes, they did," said Morashk, and his trembling suddenly ceased, and his mouth set in a hard, bitter line. "The King and the Lady Arshalous are to be wed."

For a few moments, Korak was struck into amazed silence, and then he smiled easily. "Why do I care?" he said. He turned away from Morashk and strode to the other side of the room, looking out the window to survey what lands he could see, despite their dark and shriveled appearance. "I was afraid that he had said something about the Prince succeeding him. But... Morashk, do you think my cousin will influence the King against me?"

There was no answer. Korak turned, and saw that Morashk was no longer there.

Down the corridor Morashk staggered, putting his hands against the walls for support, and mumbling almost inaudibly to himself. "I do not care, I do not care, I do not care." He stopped, reflected upon what he had just heard the King and Arshalous say, and he cried: "I do not care!"

The little maid, who had been uncertainly scouring the house for wood for the fire, paused and gazed at him in surprise. Morashk was well-known as a very quiet man who saw much with his eyes, and this sudden outburst startled her. She hesitated for a moment, then went closer to him, and looked up at him with worry written on her brow.

"Is there anything wrong, sir?" she questioned. Though Morashk was a servant just as she, it had long been known that he held a higher position in the house as the others, as one favoured by the Lord Korak, and his fellow servants never failed to show proper respect towards him.

Morashk turned keen eyes to her. "Wrong?" he demanded. "For the King and the Lady Arshalous, perhaps nothing is wrong. The King is a sneaking, low-down worm who thinks nothing of power."

"Oh, hush!" the maid cried, her eyes growing wide with terror. "Don't say such things."

"It is true," said Morashk, "and my master is no better."

"Hush!" the maid cried again, seeming more violently disturbed at these words against Lord Korak than the words about the King.

"I hold to my master because I am his servant, and I am loyal to him," said Morashk, disregarding her pleas entirely. "He is harsh, and a brute, but he is good to those who are loyal to him."

"Yes, yes," said the maid hastily, "and I am certain the King is, too."

"I do not know of the King," said Morashk, "but I do know of Lady Arshalous!" At the name he spat on the ground, but at the same time he paled and dropped his head and began to violently tremble.

The maid hesitated uncertainly. Was Morashk's mind wandering, the way he spoke of the King, of the Lord Korak, of the King again, and now the Lord Korak's cousin? She had never seen Morashk act and speak in such a way before, and she wished she did not have to see it now. It stirred up fear in her.

"How can she wed him?" Morashk said, his head still bowed. "How can she wed him, being such a brute as my master, if not more so, when she would not... I - I... I was once a strong, noble, upright..." He trailed off and was silent for a few moment, and then his eyes flashed. "I have hated her ever since! I have hated her more than my Lord Korak hates her, and he hates her bitterly. I have helped my Lord Korak to catch her with words, delighting in the look of confusion and anger on her face. I have hated her as I could hate no one else!"

The maid drew back, and the rosy flush of health that had already paled in her cheeks during the troublesome months was gone completely now. Morashk turned his eyes to her, gazed at her for a few moments, and then, once again retaining his usual skulking posture, free of distress, he gestured her away. "Go to the Lady Hababa," he said. "It is possible she is need of company. The King made his proposal when the ladies were all gathered in the Lady Hababa's room, and there the Lady Arshalous made... her fiendish acceptance. Curse her!" And he continued on down the corridor, skulking for a little while, and then staggering again, alternating between self-control and an utter lack of it.

The maid stared after him for a moment, and then fled as swiftly as she could to the Lady Hababa's chamber.