as sneaky as the trickster god - mountain, any

[Errant]

when my time comes around lay me gently in the cold dark earth The bay raon stallion that comes to stand beside him is a stranger, but the bay roan coat and tattoos make him easy enough to identify. So Scorch’s son has finally shown up. Errant’s dark ears flick toward the younger man as he starts to speak, and he narrowly avoids rolling his eyes. His nephew has all the social tact of his mother (even if it is in the entirely opposite direction). Does this look like the sort of conversation where one plies strangers with diplomatic niceties? Errant responds to the tattooed stallion’s words with a vague sort of nod of his head, but does catch the name Lagertha that he gives to the grey mare. He’s ready to speak again when the most peculiar sensation washes over him. It’s like someone is trying to pick open his head with a feather and it is something that he has felt before. He focuses on the source of the sensation and hears Simeon, his voice oddly magnified in the space between his mind and Errant’s. The black stallion’s eyes glaze over, just for an instant, and then he’s back again. If he has been elsewhere it does not show, and his grey eyes are clear as he takes in the scene around them. “Isn’t it obvious?” He replies aloud, his attention momentarily back to Simeon. She’s clearly stealing a foal, and if the only sensation that inspires in a future Brother is ‘curious’, Errant is already doubtful of what sort of man his sister has sent them. He does not have time to attend much to this doubt, as their unbalanced king has begun to speak again, and Errant knows he cannot afford to miss what Mountain has to say. Mountain does not disappoint, and though Errant bristles with visible rage, all he says is: “You’re just going to let her get away with it?” His tone is incredulous despite the cold fury in his eyes; his emotion is directed much more at Mountain than Lagertha, especially as the mare begins to speak. She is lying about something, but Errant doesn’t bother to parse through and determine exactly what it is. He already has lost any respect he might have for her as a fellow warrior when she had attempted to make off with a child – diplomatic steal or no. The sensation is back again and Errant expects it to be Simeon but instead it’s a female voice. He looks at Lagertha with just enough furrowing of his brow that she might see he has heard and understood her, but not quite enough to show that he is complicit. “Looks like she’s challenged you,” Errant says in reply to Mountain’s cries to seize Lagertha. He sounds reluctant to say as much, though he clearly doesn’t look it. “We can’t intervene now. Beqanna’s rules.” Mountain had just told them he is unwilling to break such overarching laws; none of the brothers are any more in the right if they attempt to step into a challenge where blood has already been drawn. “Unless,” and here he turns to Lagertha, having made no move to help her herd their king anywhere, “You’d be willing to trade Nihlus for Mountain? Our king would surely want to use this opportunity to make his displeasure known to your queen personally? And a diplomatic steal has no term with it – Mountain would be free to return whenever he chose.” He looks quickly at Mountain, his expression nearly encouraging. A good king would do this, he says nonverbally, a king that has his Brother’s support would do with. e r r a n t no grave can hold my body down i'll crawl home to her