Chapter 4: Sáeril Quepentorne – Storm
Sáeril Quepentorne reached Lune in the middle of a storm. His knees failed him twice. His cloak was more water than wool. Sáeril knocked on Lune’s every door, but people looked out of their windows and saw a black cloak, black leather gloves, a hood without a face. No one opened the door, and Sáeril kept on climbing the city streets toward the castle. The rain had turned the paths into rivers. With water up to his waist, Sáeril struggled to reach the gates of Lune Castle. He clutched at the gate and asked the guards for permission to come in, to take shelter against the rain. One soldier went inside to speak with the master of the castle. Sáeril Quepentorne, aware that the gates of Lune would probably not open for a black, faceless cloak, leaned against the wall, trying to find a small place where the wind didn’t spit icy water.
The gate opened at his back.
‘Come in,’ said the soldier.
Sáeril crossed the courtyard of Lune under the rainy glares of the soldiers on the wall. He nearly lost his balance when he entered the hall, leaving behind the weight of the storm. A broad man with meaty hands held him by the shoulder. This was Master Séramon of Lune.
‘Let me help you out of this wet cloak.’ Séramon tried to grab the black wool.
‘No.’ Sáeril gently deflected the man’s big hands.
‘But you are soaked.’
‘No.’ He held the cloak with gloved hands and waited in the darkness of his hood.
While the Master of Lune studied cloak, hood, and leather gloves, Sáeril noticed two pale little faces spying from a half-closed door. Children. Few people would allow a faceless stranger to sleep under the same roof as their children. Sáeril would be sent back to the storm. Instead, Séramon offered him a dry room and warm soup.
As soon as he was alone, Sáeril stretched his body on the rug in front of the fire and slept.
