7
DAY 10
Rajel chopped carrots.
It was a boring task, one that annoyed him considerably, but the work wasn’t nearly as bad as the company. The former members of Avrin Bryse’s squadron were squabbling again. His knife made a rhythmic thud, thud, thud, on the chopping board, a metronome that let him tune out the argument.
The kitchen at Braynar Manor was quite large with wooden cupboards forming a rectangle around a central table. Off to his right, a pot was bubbling on the stove as Mr. Helsmin – the head chef – made soup for dinner.
They had positioned Rajel under the window where he could feel the warm sunlight on his face. He might have enjoyed it under other circumstances, but combined with the steam wafting up from the pot, it only made the room painfully warm.
Jef Zamad entered t
