“Damn the Fates,” he muttered as he labored up the hill, “So many good ideas and no ability to write them down.”
“Aleron! Stop your dawdling. I do not want to be late.”
“Yes, my lady,” teeth gritted he tried to speed his pace. It wasn’t much, but Lady Torellani seemed satisfied.
Arriving at the ancient mansion, he dropped the poles of the rickshaw and hurried to lower the step for Lady Torellani. It didn’t matter how fast he was; she still gave him that icy glare as if she’d been waiting an eternity for him. He held his hand out to assist her, but she swept past him. Even the rustle of the copious layers of silk in her dress seemed to whisper condemnations.
As Aleron watched Lady Torellani enter the mansion, he moved back the front of the rickshaw to pull it off the street. Maybe he’d finally have a chance to write about the ideas in his head. Inventions. Poetry. Epics. Art. So much inspiration. It was all there roiling in his mind until he felt he may go mad from the turmoil.
Reaching the stable, Aleron set the rickshaw down. He dug in his pockets for the scraps of paper and pencil he kept there in the vain hope he’d have a chance to use them.
Sighing, Aleron looked up, “Yes?”
“Lady Torellani wished you to address several tasks while you wait. Here is the list.”
He took the list from the serving man and almost choked. The duties she assigned would surely take him all day. Even then, he felt uncertain about accomplishing them all before she would want to return home. Feeling tears welling, he left the courtyard. It wouldn’t do to have the servants of the house see his weakness. It would get back to Lady Torellani and that would be dangerous.