Chapter 67. Joy Amid Sorrow

intersday preparations were ahead of schedule, a fact that the more somber members of the guild found a little annoying.  The Tyrians preferred messy boughs of conifers and holly against which the servants waged near constant war.  Red lanterns and paper garlands were more to Canthan taste, as were celebratory red and gold banners painted with cheery good wishes.

Zhou took it all in stride.  After the events of autumn, some good cheer and celebration were in order and while he did not encourage it, neither did he bow to the protests of the steward.  He did, however, curtail the head chef’s new fascination with spiked egg nog.  The experiment with rice wine had made a great number sick, but after he had managed to procure a batch of fine Krytan rum, the revelry got out of hand.  The great hall had become a place of almost nightly dancing and musical performances.

But in a quiet corner of the great house over looking the sleeping garden, Brigit warmed herself by the fireplace and glanced occasionally at Armand sleeping peacefully beneath layers of blankets and a burgundy silk comforter.  Sometimes she drew up her chair beside him and held his hand and talked about a long ago adventure with her dwarven friends or her exploits in the woodlands outside of Lion’s Arch. His placid expression never changed, and when she stroked his golden hair, she remembered the way he flinched from her touch and taunted him, daring him to do so now.

Zhou told her he might not come back and Kantele, though she had skill with mental wounds, conceded that her craft might not be enough to revive him.  For nearly three weeks now she had kept her vigil with friends dropping in each day to cheer her with games or gossip.   She forced a smile to her lips as Pendaran and Mabane arrived bearing a tray of soup and tea and a bun stuffed with spicy pork.

“Pen’s going to be my father!” Mabane announced, grateful to have found someone who did not know the news.  Brigit blinked up at them from her place on the floor.  The boy was almost dancing with exuberance and he tackled her, one of the few people he was allowed to rough house with.  She ruffled his black hair amid his gleeful laughter while looking askance at Pendaran.

“Teleri and I are getting married on Wintersday.”

“Congratulations!” she replied, forcing herself to sound deliriously happy for them.  In truth, she was glad Teleri had finally said yes.

“I think Teleri would like you to participate, although I don’t think she’ll require you to wear too much taffeta or lace.”

Brigit snorted as she rose, Mabane still clutched under her arm while he struggled to escape from her.

“You can do better than that,” she chided, tickling his ribs until he squealed in false misery and finally extricated himself.  Brigit thought she saw Armand’s head turn ever so slightly and Pendaran followed her gaze.

“Perhaps it would help Armand if we brought in some friends or perhaps some music.  Maybe we just need to entice him to come back here by proving it’s pleasant and safe to do so.”

“Is he still there, Pen?”

He shrugged.

“The only other mesmer around him while he was still conscious is in the imperial jail currently.  I doubt she would be very helpful.  Still, Kantele thinks he is still alive.  If anyone knows, she would.”

“But just now when he stirred, did you sense anything?”

“I’d be lying if I said I did, Brigit.  I’ll find out if he has any friends in Lion’s Arch.  Everyone in Tyria passes through there eventually.”

“Can we play cards with Brigit now?” Mabane demanded.

“Sure,” Brigit replied, cuddling the boy, “but you make sure Master Pen doesn’t cheat.”