When she felt a spike of self-satisfaction, she turned to watch her maighstir as he made his way to the office in the back and looked around.
At the center of the room was a large wooden desk with silvered inlays and a leather writing surface. Balgair walked around the desk, nodding as he saw the three drawers with heavy locks. He made a satisfied noise as he sat in the large wing-backed chair and turned to the desk. “Do I have a scribe?”
Tackett nodded, “You do, sir. She’s probably waiting right outside. Would you like me to get her?” When Balgair nodded, the sergeant poked his head out the door and called, “Delilah, your new boss wants to talk to you.”
It took a few minutes, but the woman he had called for walked through the doorway and knelt before Balgair. “I am Delilah, Maighstir. I’m the former Reve’s scribe.”
Heather appraised the woman, noting how she carried herself. She’s more than a bean-cheangail and less than an umhail. Heather thought as she felt the other woman’…
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