It was raining. A gray haze had swallowed the sun and sent sheets of torrentuous downpour washing over Haulani. It rushed from ceilings and downspouts, trickled over paved squares and boardwalks, making wood slippery and treacherous. For the first time since setting foot in Torchline, Maea felt chilled. Sitting crosslegged on the rim of the fountain before the courthouse, she watched the surface ripple and distort the shadowed reflection of herself, until it became impossible to tell who was looking back. Hard droplets pattered against her head, soaking the plain shirt and wide-legged trousers all through until it laid plastered against the skin. Every now and then a silvery note shimmered into the air, from the bells that dangled off her wide arching horns; but save for the slowly swaying tail that spilled over the edge of the fountain into the water, she remained still. Unmoving, like a pale statue forgotten on its way somewhere else.
An official looking person had offered her to wait inside, to be plied with tea and treats and a warm fire. Maea had declined. Her business wasn't official. Actually she wouldn't call it business at all; she just hoped to see Hadama, but had been told the King was busy, and would she like to leave a message? She declined that too. Wasn't sure what to say, for one, and for the other... Something about that grand building and all the imagery of the Herald of Life made her uncomfortable. She just wanted to talk to her friend, not the King or the Demigod. Sometimes it was hard to reconcile those roles with the person who had tied wreaths in her kitchen, or sparred with her in a dingy gym.
Better to wait here, where the distance between them wouldn't seem quite so wide. Maea could be patient when she wanted to be. Sooner or later he should pass by, and she would figure out what to say.
