I had expected – in all honesty I am not sure what – to be met by fighting-men at least, a single standing guard for certain; or else, the scurry of servants, members of the house taking to flight, raising the alarm. There was none of it. The lower chamber was deserted. I see it now. The business of the Council was a private affair not to be overheard. I was always a dead man from the very start. And I had been carefully watched into that hole. No one in that tower-house expected me to come out of it again. Not alive. I made the wooden steps to the Great Hall and thought to find it likewise empty. Only, it was not. Not quite… Lowly Crows cried out, gave me a reminder of her continued presence, safely sat upon her makeshift perch within the high ceiling. She stayed put, not yet ready to make a move. There, in front of me, was the Old-man, still sitting at the head of his table. Though he was unattended by any guard or servant or Council – the earlier courtly display had been a mask solely for my benefit – a golem, a fetch, needs none.
