Point of Hopes
“Rathe glared at drizzle beyond the tiny windows as he shaved and dressed, but got his impatience under control before he climbed down the creaking stairs to the main room. They would still reach Mailhac by the end of the day, and that was all that mattered. Eslingen was standing by one of the windows in the common room, looking out at the grey, wet sky. He shook his head, hearing the other’s approach, but didn’t turn.
“We may not make as good time today,” he said mournfully. “Seidos’s Horse, I ...hate wet travel.”
“I suppose the weather had to break sometime,” Rathe answered more philosophically than he felt. He hoped the rain wasn’t an omen, and dismissed the thought as being foolish beyond all permission. He accepted a cup of thick, smoky-smelling tea from the yawning waiter and joined Denizard at one of the square tables, wrapping his fingers around the warmed pottery.
“It couldn’t have waited another day?” When there was no answer, Eslingen drew himself away from the window and sat back down opposite Rathe.MoreLess
“We may not make as good time today,” he said mournfully. “Seidos’s Horse, I ...hate wet travel.”
“I suppose the weather had to break sometime,” Rathe answered more philosophically than he felt. He hoped the rain wasn’t an omen, and dismissed the thought as being foolish beyond all permission. He accepted a cup of thick, smoky-smelling tea from the yawning waiter and joined Denizard at one of the square tables, wrapping his fingers around the warmed pottery.
“It couldn’t have waited another day?” When there was no answer, Eslingen drew himself away from the window and sat back down opposite Rathe.MoreLess
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