This is kinda what I was going for:
* * * * *
On your way to the healer, you’re briefly filled in on the details of what’s happened since the earth shook. Saferza, one of the Vedkin who came to your aid, explains that the Keep itself suffered structural damage, with several being killed when portions of the inner walls collapsed.
“Everyone was frantic and on edge, the chekal especially. And it didn’t help matters that a few of the Stones fell over the edge--I don’t know if you’d seen that.”
You startle at that and stare at him, then swear under your breath. ‘The Beasts have spoken’...I was wondering what was meant by that.”
“Catchy, isn’t it?” Saferza says wryly. “Anyway, so after that, there were the...the red lights, in the sky.” You involuntarily look upward and seek them out, then look away. The sight always makes you uneasy. “Which no one could explain.”
“What about Herikor? I had hoped--“
Saferza shakes his head. “It’s been all hands on deck since the moment the earth shook. There’s simply been no time for him to cloister himself away for a vision or however that works. He and your mother were the only things keeping the enclave from descending into complete chaos. Meanwhile out in the canyon and the outskirt villages, that’s where things with the chekal reached a fever pitch and boiled over.”
You examine the enclave grounds as you walk past. The cliffside meadows are strewn with rubble and marred with patches of blackened grass, tents and open cooking fires. Many of the farmers’ and workers’ cottages have been dismantled, and others sag dangerously. What must be hundreds of chekal are camped in the open or milling aimlessly around outside.
After a moment you realize Saferza is watching you expectantly. “And what about yours?” he asks.
“My what?”
“Your chekal. You went out with two dozen scouts, didn’t you? I’ve got to say, the Lady Anidina will NOT be pleased that you lost them.”
“Oh.” Nemskir and Panithia cough and avoid eye contact. You scrub at your snout and blink miserably. “Ah, they...they sort of went mad when the earth shook, and we...they...well, I think it would be best if I just waited to explain to mother for myself,” you finish. You same pathetic and defensive even to your own ears. But you’re wanting to keep the whole Solskin situation to yourself for the time being. Explaining it to your mother will be difficult enough.
After your wounds are all bandaged in the Keep’s grand dining hall turned makeshift hospital, you find an out of the way place for Pani and Nem to rest, then go and seek out your mother. Everything still seems a bit unreal to you. After all the striving to get back here, this isn’t the Keep you remember. Deep cracks web the walls, with broken bits of masonry littering the floor. Though at least anything that looks structural has been rather haphazardly repaired and propped with wooden beams for support. The floors are sparsely populated. Many common rooms like the dining hall all but stripped of furniture to make room for sleeping mats, but the servants and guards you do see wander about in a half-dazed manner, tired and dirty.
It takes some time to find someone who can even tell you where your mother is, and that turns out to be a makeshift command room in a converted wine cellar.
Anidina, when you first see her, comes as another surprise. In contrast to the stained and wrinkled garments of most of the exhausted looking soldiers and couriers around her, the dress she wears is neat and clean, but so simple and severe you’d almost think it had belonged to one of her servants. Her scales, patterned a lacy blue and black, bear not a trace of decorative paint, and though her expression is weary and strained she keeps her shoulders straight and looks very much like one in process of getting shit done. The command room table is full of maps and documents she keeps jabbing a claw at while snapping orders at everyone around her. The wizened form of the high priest, Herikor, his scales and drooping quills a dingy yellow and white, sits hunched over a table recording her commands as fast as she can give them and handing off slips of parchment to messengers.
Turning to face you when you clear your throat in the doorway, she greets you with uncharacteristic praise.
“Larzun. Good job clearing away that trash by the gate.”
You manage to stammer out an acknowledgment. Your mother has never had much good to say about you.
“I thought you wouldn’t be reporting in for another week yet. But we had a fine mess here, so just as well you never learned to stick to your orders. Now, I need your chekal scouts provisioned immediately and transfered to Captain Vimkar to help reinforce the southwest pass. We’ve lost contact with two of the other guard posts already, and that one is absolutely vital for bringing in supplies if we have more trouble at the main gates.”
You cough. “Ah, about the chekal...”
She makes an exasperated noise and tosses her hands up. “By Zeriker’s Left Cock! Don’t tell me you managed to lose two dozen chekal. Remind me to never trust you with anything greater than a crippled plowbeast from now on, hmm?”
So much for saying nice things.
Clearing your throat again, you mutter a request to speak to her in private. To your surprise, she actually grants it. Maybe something in your expression gives away that you’ve got more than the run-of-the-mill fuck up to confess.
At your hesitant request, Herikor accompanies you as well. Probably he thinks he's simply there to prevent your murder.
As straightforwardly as possible, you relate the last few night’s misadventures, everything from capturing Solskin to losing him and the desertion of your chekal, to the flight through the caverns and then up and across the canyon, and the state of the guard post when you found it. Your mother clicks her tongue and sighs a lot, but interrupts only to ask for clarification at certain points.
“To think you had that slippery son of a mudwarter in hand and let him slip from your claws,” is the first thing she says when you’re finished, seeming uninterested in any possible theological implications in the timing of the earthquake, or even in the red stars. She paces the room. “Mounting his head on a spike would go such a long way towards calming everyone down.”
After a moment she sighs. “Well, the intel on Solskin may be useful to us yet. We know which area he’s in, and that as of a few days ago at least, he was separated from his main forces. Your brother will return in a night or two and we can take advantage of that immediately. He has enough soldiers to defend the Keep...well, what’s left of the Keep, and still send a detachment to scout for Solskin on this end of the canyon. And...hmm, check on the guard tower by the southwest pass while he’s at it.” She looks away to make a quick note on a map. “Aside from that, I’ll ask him to leave me a squad or two to deal with those escaped prisoners.”
“Prisoners?”
“Yes! Aside from a bunch of nothing villagers rebelling and the earth itself going mad, we had a rather large prison break down in the caves while our peacekeepers were occupied elsewhere. Because everything absolutely MUST go to hell all at once, while the one actually useful son I have is clear on the other side of the canyon,” she spits out, exasperated.
Wisely you hold your tongue.
Herikor stands nearby with the aid of his cane, shifting from foot to foot and looking uneasy. He coughs. “Ah, my lady, if I may...I’m not sure it’s wise to leave everything dependent on Jorhaz’s speedy return. In a day or two the rebels may have regrouped...we still don’t know exactly how many villages are sympathetic to them. And for that matter, we...well, there’s no way to know what the situation is in the mountains on that side. The pass may have fallen in, or...or anything may have happened. We should prepare ourselves for the worst and expect delays.”
“Bah, what do you propose we do then? I simply don’t have the lizards we need to keep things secure here. Even if I were to start drafting servants, half of the ones here are injured or still half in shock. Useless! Or on the verge of betraying us like that lot Larzun took out and joining the canyon tribes. That rabble at the gates was only a taste. We might be facing a real rebellion soon if things aren’t put back into order soon, and needless to say that won’t end well for anyone in this room.” She raps her claws against a table a moment, frowning as she thinks, then fixes you with a look. “All right, you go and take Nemskir and that Wildwind girl down to the caves to wipe out those prisoners. Hopefully you can at least manage that much. No sense in giving them any more time to get up to mischief--the last thing we need is a bandit problem right under our feet. We have enough problems coming at us from every side as it is. And in a pinch those caves may be needed for shelter or defense.”
You’re at a loss as to any details on the prisoners, let alone where you might find them. ‘The caves’ referring to the vast network of caverns, catacombs, store rooms, and underground lakes deep beneath the cliffs, where absolutely anyone might be hiding anywhere.
But one thing is clear. You’ve been given permission to get the hell out of this room, and stay away awhile. You imagine that arrangement suits her as well as you. “ “Yes mother. And afterwards?”
She waves a hand vaguely. “Guard the store rooms, get some proper patrols organized, whatever else needs doing down there. Or get your tail back up here and help move supplies. I’m sure there’s enough to keep you busy until Jorhaz returns, and meanwhile I’ve got my hands full here so I can’t be holding yours. Now are we done chatting, or--?”
Taking the dismissal for what it was, you nod and quickly exit.
