Count Blade's hands were around the flask, not the bottle, which was the first ordinary thing he had done since noon.
"The sentry is still in the yard, Cynthia has him, he is trying very hard to be useful now that he has been shouted at, I would not call that honesty yet but it is closer than smiling."
Rigel did not sit.
"Private rooms, say exactly what he asked, not the version you cleaned for a report."
Blade's mouth pulled, iron without the lining for the moment.
"He asked if the rooms set aside for you had been aired, then he asked if the inner latch on the old royal bedchamber still stuck in damp weather, then he laughed and said of course it would, war or no war, wood remembers weather, and the sentry thought that was small talk from a man who had sold cloth here before the flag changed."
Cynthia came in with the sentry by the sleeve and let go only when the man was inside the door.
The sentry looked like he wanted a wall to stand against and did not deserve one.
