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- 38
((26 Kingsway, 35 Dragon; Cousland Estate in Denerim; mid-morning; @Ferren Bairston ))
The infirmary had been spared the damage from the fires that had spread during the darkspawn siege, but not from the looting in the days and weeks after. Conrad could at least see a reason for desperate folk to steal the healing supplies to help the wounded, but they had certainly left a mess to be cleaned up. Glass bottles and canisters shattered on the floor, shelves knocked askew, cabinet doors ajar, and all of it coated in a heavy layer of dust.
But Conrad could see the possibilities, and they pleased him greatly. The area was spacious, with a main room to greet patients and examine them (what looked to have been cloth and wood screens had been torn and splintered), another room to hold patients who required observation or extended care (the cots were gone) and a small supply room (empty of supplies).
First things first. By the middle of the next month, Conrad intended to have the mess cleaned up and a full list of the furnishings and supplies that would be needed to return it to service, with the associated costs, if he could find them. He could purchase herbs from Cora, and he'd heard there was a carpenter in town -
“Tee?”
Conrad looked up, then stepped quickly across the room to intercept Riane before she could step onto the glass-strewn floor. “What are you doing here, little one?” he asked, crouching before her. The Teyrn was not with her, nor, so far as Conrad could tell, was anyone else.
She offered him a sunny smile. “Tee.”
“I … do not understand.” He regarded her helplessly. “Your kitten … is he well?”
“Kitkit!” She beamed at him. “Kitkit tee!” Wrapping one tiny hand around his index finger, she began tugging at him. Standing, he allowed himself to be led through the halls, drawing odd looks from the workers they passed. Conrad had given the Teyrn permission to be honest about his past, but he had no idea who had been told what at this point. A young elf carrying an armful of linens saw them and her eyes grew wide. Before he could speak, she dropped the sheets and scurried off.
“Tee!” Riane insisted, tugging him in the opposite direction when he tried to follow the elf. Briefly, he considered just picking her up and carrying her, but if she started crying, it would look even worse for him. Giving up, he followed her to a spacious, well lit room that had been thoroughly cleaned. There was a comfortable looking couch beneath the window and toys strewn across the floor around a child-sized table and chairs on which was set -
“Ah … you meant tea,” Conrad exclaimed, feeling foolish. But on the other hand, it was not as though he was invited to tea often.
“Tea!” Riane confirmed delightedly, tugging him toward the table. “Kitkit tea!”
In a doll-sized cradle beside the table, the kitten lay, garbed in a frilly dress and bonnet. The feline opened one green eye as he approached, then closed it again, the generous bulge of his belly providing an explanation for his somnolent state.
“He seems to like his tea very much,” Conrad told Riane, bending to pat the kitten and do a check of the new splint, finding it secure.
Riane nodded happily, then pointed at him, then the table. “Tea!”
He stared down at the tiny chairs, the even tinier cups and saucers. “I think that I am too large, little one.”
That got him a look of wide-eyed appeal that was going to be the death of some young man in a dozen or so years, and a wistful, “Tea, pease?”
Defeated, Conrad shifted one of the chairs to the side and lowered his bulk to the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of the table. With a happy laugh that would have been sufficient reward for a far more onerous chore, Riane bounced into the chair across from him and picked up a tiny teapot, pretending to pour into her cup and his, then sat back, watching him expectantly.
The tea set looked to be made of tin … a better choice than porcelain for one so small, the outsides painted with colorful designs to please a young eye. But so tiny! Gingerly grasping the handle of his empty cup between thumb and forefinger, Conrad raised it to his lips and pretended to sip. “It is very good,” he told Riane solemnly. “Thank you.”
She laughed again and pretended to drink from her own cup, then gestured to him that it was time for a refill. He passed his cup to her, wondering how long it might be before the elf found whoever she had been running for.
The infirmary had been spared the damage from the fires that had spread during the darkspawn siege, but not from the looting in the days and weeks after. Conrad could at least see a reason for desperate folk to steal the healing supplies to help the wounded, but they had certainly left a mess to be cleaned up. Glass bottles and canisters shattered on the floor, shelves knocked askew, cabinet doors ajar, and all of it coated in a heavy layer of dust.
But Conrad could see the possibilities, and they pleased him greatly. The area was spacious, with a main room to greet patients and examine them (what looked to have been cloth and wood screens had been torn and splintered), another room to hold patients who required observation or extended care (the cots were gone) and a small supply room (empty of supplies).
First things first. By the middle of the next month, Conrad intended to have the mess cleaned up and a full list of the furnishings and supplies that would be needed to return it to service, with the associated costs, if he could find them. He could purchase herbs from Cora, and he'd heard there was a carpenter in town -
“Tee?”
Conrad looked up, then stepped quickly across the room to intercept Riane before she could step onto the glass-strewn floor. “What are you doing here, little one?” he asked, crouching before her. The Teyrn was not with her, nor, so far as Conrad could tell, was anyone else.
She offered him a sunny smile. “Tee.”
“I … do not understand.” He regarded her helplessly. “Your kitten … is he well?”
“Kitkit!” She beamed at him. “Kitkit tee!” Wrapping one tiny hand around his index finger, she began tugging at him. Standing, he allowed himself to be led through the halls, drawing odd looks from the workers they passed. Conrad had given the Teyrn permission to be honest about his past, but he had no idea who had been told what at this point. A young elf carrying an armful of linens saw them and her eyes grew wide. Before he could speak, she dropped the sheets and scurried off.
“Tee!” Riane insisted, tugging him in the opposite direction when he tried to follow the elf. Briefly, he considered just picking her up and carrying her, but if she started crying, it would look even worse for him. Giving up, he followed her to a spacious, well lit room that had been thoroughly cleaned. There was a comfortable looking couch beneath the window and toys strewn across the floor around a child-sized table and chairs on which was set -
“Ah … you meant tea,” Conrad exclaimed, feeling foolish. But on the other hand, it was not as though he was invited to tea often.
“Tea!” Riane confirmed delightedly, tugging him toward the table. “Kitkit tea!”
In a doll-sized cradle beside the table, the kitten lay, garbed in a frilly dress and bonnet. The feline opened one green eye as he approached, then closed it again, the generous bulge of his belly providing an explanation for his somnolent state.
“He seems to like his tea very much,” Conrad told Riane, bending to pat the kitten and do a check of the new splint, finding it secure.
Riane nodded happily, then pointed at him, then the table. “Tea!”
He stared down at the tiny chairs, the even tinier cups and saucers. “I think that I am too large, little one.”
That got him a look of wide-eyed appeal that was going to be the death of some young man in a dozen or so years, and a wistful, “Tea, pease?”
Defeated, Conrad shifted one of the chairs to the side and lowered his bulk to the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of the table. With a happy laugh that would have been sufficient reward for a far more onerous chore, Riane bounced into the chair across from him and picked up a tiny teapot, pretending to pour into her cup and his, then sat back, watching him expectantly.
The tea set looked to be made of tin … a better choice than porcelain for one so small, the outsides painted with colorful designs to please a young eye. But so tiny! Gingerly grasping the handle of his empty cup between thumb and forefinger, Conrad raised it to his lips and pretended to sip. “It is very good,” he told Riane solemnly. “Thank you.”
She laughed again and pretended to drink from her own cup, then gestured to him that it was time for a refill. He passed his cup to her, wondering how long it might be before the elf found whoever she had been running for.
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