Havaldr

"Sol, bakana."
"Kud tâti, Serki?"
"Dugg, Forstrang, ra Havaldr lu zayara."

There was a muted thud, and another a few seconds later, followed by a crash coming from somewhere in the building. 
That will be Connwear and the savages making their entrance. More than enough to draw attention to themselves.

I swear, he keeps locking this only to amuse himself...
As if working a lock while crouching on a very narrow stone sill fifteen metres up in the air wasn't difficult enough on its own, the rain was getting heavier and a distant rumble announced that it was turning into a lightning storm. 

"Lady Maerion, it is a privilege to meet you at last, and to welcome you to our fair city."

It wasn't all that different from watching a mother nip and tuck at her daughters before taking them to be paraded in front of a host of suitors, standing in that store while the tailor and Lord Denien spoke of different fabrics and cuts, the two brothers propped in front of full length mirrors wearing half-finished jackets with various patches of cloth being attached and removed as new ideas were suggested and old discarded. 

How in the blazes are we going to pull this off?

"Branson! I'm delighted to see you again, my most timely rescuer. I hope you didn't get lost this time?"
"No, this place was easy enough to find in the daylight."
"I'm glad. Sit, sit. My father will join us shortly."

"Another day ... Oh, I do not wish to rise ... Do, I have to Elliot?"

A soft purr sounded from her lover's pillow, but it was not he. It was a calico kitten, a few weeks old with amber eyes. He blinked at her, before cuddling back into the feathered pillow with a flick of his tiny tail.

"You're right, sleep is better. For a growing child that is."