The Heartwood The Highland Path Highside, West of Silk Creek Ravine After Sunset and then On the Road The end of Horse and passing on into Poet
Bekkah, Daxia, Darian, Mikal, Jankin, Dean, Cesare, Kadri... Morning Star, Longtooth, Kay and Romana
Kay turned, to follow Bekkah back to the fire and the others. But not before she paused, looked dwn, tugged at the top of her tunic and looked down again as if in confirmation, before raising her head and chasing after the much taller blonde.
"How in the world am I supposed to know THAT. I'm'a girl!"
That was in answer to the Aterran's question; concerning the inevitable discourse of mice and men.
****
The easterly road, it followed the very edge of the Silk Creek Ravine, following the sheer cliffs on one side while the broken stones rose on the other, creating a single terrace for travel. In some places it is narrow and some places much wider; usually suck a place sheltered a tavern or inn. The road too itself had changed, from grass to hard packed dirt to rough hewn cobbles and then large paving stones. In some places, where the rise was steep, they were actually carved into steps, well worn from ages travel, with a pair of - relatively - wide ramps from riser to riser for the wheels of carts and wagons. Regularly there'd be some manner of break or pass, leading upwards to the fields above, but the main road stayed along the rim of the ravine.
The traffic picked up too, and while they kept their pace heading towards the sea and sunset and thus maintained their relative privacy, they often had to move to the side to let a similar group, usually accompanied by a wagon or three or four, pass on their eastbound way.
By now the milestones had become regular and familiar markers, not just visible but well kept and well maintained.
****
"The big woods?"
Kay looked across to Daxia and the others, when answering that particular question.
"Well, we lived up in the crags above the Forest, of course, but we weren't keepfolk, not really, ceptin' we could see the sun rise over its towers on a clear summers mornin', after chasing the sheep all over the far valley side.
"But come the first hint of harvest, Fa and his friends would gather up their gear and go down into it. It was right regular, when I was a kidlet, leavin' Ma and me to finish the harvest while they hunted for meat to keep us to the spring.
"That's ... that's the big wood I know of. Folks didn't much try and live in it; being there was plainstigers and bears and what not that were ready to make you their meal instead of viceversa. Besides, to hear the gardeners speak it woulda been like livin' in a chapel. Which were all right and proper to visit every now and then butafter about a day or so a lass ... okay me ... would go stir crazy because of all the things you aren't supposed to do in a chapel.
"Lily-kins, she always be bopping me on the head ..."
The young dayalan fell silent, for a moment, taking a big bite from her roll.
" ... and said I'd never make a very good temple guard.
"But who in their right mind want to spend all their days standing out side the same door?"
****
Finally, however, two things happened.
First, the morning came and found Romana running her fingers through long lengths of black hair, the big floppy hat hiding the hints of slender ears.
Second, the rise to the right side of the pat became not a wall of striated stone but houses cut into the stone; like a makeshift village set into the landscape.
And they would be watched. Red hair would get children snared back into mother's arms, especially the young lasses and laddies, especially when added to a midnight unicorn.
"Now there's trouble comin' down the street ..."
"Black ... color of night ... good unicorns are supposed to be white as the clouds in the sky."
"Yah .. thats'a snarkhound, I bet. Fa told me of them, they's a sure mark of someone uncivilized ..."
"Country trollops ..."
"Look at that one, yah her ... there's the reason bread now costs a silver a loaf."
"Well of course. She's a Lady. She's gotta be nice to everyone. No choice in that.
"Poor thing.
"Well I'm sure one of the Knights will be setting her back upon the straight and narrow.
"Isn't that a Knight with her ..."
"That lad ... looks like a fish that's gonna get tossed back into the river for bein' too small."
The last rise in the trail was reached.
Three choices lay before the small group.
One; through the scattered houses the collection of homes not fine enough or wealthy enough to be within a town wall, the well paved road continued west, leading to the sea and Talesan's Village.
Two; a path known by Mikal, here the road doubled back towards sunrise. The road that lead beyond the rich manor fields to the broken farms of Brockman's Holdfast and then the rugged quarries of Montague.
Three; through the tall gat towers and their black metal portcullis. The color of honey stone soft in the setting sun, rising above path and creek ravine strong and proud. Ramshackle homes, of the poor, clustered outside the walls and lined the road in, and here there was even stratification of the poor - those who managed to hold on to a home, a shop, a place to park a wagon of food to sell, much better off than those the farther from the main way.
In multiple rings, far larget than the Rock or Cragside, even making the fancier castles of Dawnview seem small, the Khorall of Keeps rose before them; Talantal, where the streets were supposedly paved with gold and coins fell from the sky like rain. Of course such stories were for children, but like all stories the modicum of truth now stood before them.
Dominic Korie's little home village.
There was, of course, a line at the gates. And tolls collected.
By the Keep watch, of course, the soldiers of Talantal, those who were the liegeman of the Noble Family Korie.
It had been a reasonable journey; time on the way for some personal time with Darian, time for further horse training with Kadri and also time to start his crossbow training with Mikal. However he still needed to find a forge to make the dagger that would fulfil his bargain with Mikal and he needed to talk with Kadri.
And here they are approaching civilisation.. so there might be an opportunity to find a forge. He smiles to himself hearing the comments as they pass the first dwellings. Maybe one other advantage to travelling with this mixed group of folk is that rather than be a focus for unwelcome attention, even a Rhoni can pass relatively unmarked.
He drops back a little to walk alongside Kadri.
"Been meaning to ask, now I know enough to look after a horse, is there any chance I might learn to ride one?"
He reaches out to pat Lisica whom he had been helping to care for over the last month or so.
"What a cousin said about riding a horse once was that it is much like loving a woman. You have to figure out where to put the legs of course. You need to be ale to look her in the eyes. You give her gifts of something sweet and tasty now and again. And if you don't read her mind, you are going to hurt quite a bit between the legs. The key isn't to get her to do what you want - but instead to get her to want to do what you want."
She grins, winks.
"I think with a little teaching you will make a good rider."
Last edited by Art in the Blood; Mon 09/09/1312:24 UTC.
"Well then maybe Darian has already given me the first few lessons."
Then on a more serious note he adds.
"My thanks, I know what she means to you."
He has also been observing over the past few weeks, not only Kadri but also the others in their group who ride, noting body positions etc. And he knows he has deft hands and reasonable balance, so he is feeling quite positive.
As they ride west Mikal has been unusually quiet and withdrawn. He barely glaces at the surroundings, keeping his eyes focused on the road just in front of Talia's hooves.
He has begun working with Cesare on the crossbow, and has been impressed with how quickly he has picked up the process. It is a simple weapon, such that most new New Jvrillian troop members can become at least familiar enough with it to be useful in combat fairly quickly, but Cesare has a natural dexterity and a very good eye.
"You'll be better than me with this if you keep working at it." He grunts at the end of one of their last sessions.
He continues to spar with Daxia, and Dean when he chooses to join. Practicing each evening with the broadsword and shield.
Upon reaching the trail crossings, and as the others discuss which way to head, he is silent. The reins are squeezed so hard in his hand that his fingernails leave marks. He stares straight ahead, but others can see his eyes repeatedly flickering to the trail that leads towards Brockman's and Montague lands. The expression on his face a combination of sorrow, eagerness, and hesitation.
He is not immune to the feelings of others within the group but often chosing not to comment, generally respecting their right to privacy. But recently he has spent more time with Mikal and the man is obviously wrestling with inner demons just now. Moving quietly to stand next to Mikal's mount, on the offside from the others, he murmurs for Mikal's ears.
"If you need an ear.. or just a diversion for those pent up thoughts, let me know."
He stays close for a few moments, giving Mikal some time for thought but he is ready to move away before his presence also becomes an issue.
He sighs, and with obvious effort releases Talia's reins, wrapping them around the pommel of his saddle. He then leans back and wipes a hand over his face, then turns to Cesare and offers a wan smile.
"Do you know", he starts softly, "how after a long ride, of weeks in the saddle, 2 or 3 hands of hours a day, how you may get a really bad boil on your butt? How badly it hurts whenever you sit or move, and the desire you have to lance it? But you know that if you give in to the desire to cut it that it will surely become infected and much worse than the nagging pain it is at the moment? The infection might even kill you."
He glances back to the path and stares that way as he finishes his thought. "That is how I feel." He points down the trail. "That way lies my former home. All the memories of my youth, both good and terrible. The boil on my butt." He grins softly. "The itch I would love to scratch, but am not certain I would survive the scratching."
"Actually one of my greatest desires in to have a long ride, spend weeks in the saddle. I have not yet had the pleasure of that experience. Instead I have suffered sore feet, worn out shoes, aching legs and back and have divested possessions because it just hurts too much to carry them. Though the new boots are good now, and help."
He smiles over in Romana's direction, even though she would have no idea why.
"Not sure I fancy boils though. Do you think I should rethink my riding lessons with Kadri?"
Then he grins.
"I understand what you mean. In my experience, better to scratch and purge, rather than to have something dog you for a lifetime. Got to move forward, follow the tides, lose the anchors that pin you into the past. And if you need someone to stand by you whilst you scratch, i'll be there."
The last statement brings his gaze back to Cesare. A considering expression on his face. "I am not sure you understand the scope of what you offer", he says, voice carrying to any who care to listen.
He waves a hand towards the Northeast. "My Father and Uncle were taken by the Montagues to work in the quarries. I know not their fate, though few survive that work for long. The only thing that saved me from sharing their fate, even as young as I was, was that I had taken the crop to market that day and was away from home."
His eyes reflect a coldness, like blue ice.
"My mother and sister never spoke of that day to me. They were there too, and had bruises. Bad bruises on their faces and bodies. Some broken fingers as well. But they were tight lipped anytime I asked."
He pauses.
"We.., the three of us, tried to work the farm ourselves after that but it was too much. My sister died in an accident with our bull the next spring and my mother never recovered her spirit after that. She was a hollow shell of the mother I knew. She slowly withered away, working herself to death on the farm."
"I buried her next to my sister and left soon after. I had the good luck to fall in with Cameron's Lights."
He glances back to the trail. "I have nothing left there. There is almost no chance my Father and Uncle are still alive, and even if they were those mines are well, and strongly, guarded. The only thing for me, should I turn down that trail, is revenge. And death. And I expect death for any who follow me."
"Sure, I daydream about charging into the quarries and rescuing them. Freeing them and the others of Brockman's illegally enslaved, but it is just a dream."
He looks again to Cesare. "Your offer is kind, and I appreciate the spirit in which it was given. But I would not lead you to your death. If I go down that road one day, I will do so alone."
Last edited by Zeim; Sat 14/09/1314:55 UTC. Reason: mines/quarries
[OOC: I've been trying to write a post all week. Every time I get a few sentences in, Gypsy or Zeim would post something else and make moot whatever it was I'd written. It's been a freaking hilarious week! (Really... I'm laughing, not being sarcastic.) Then my Muse would say, "Pffft, never mind this silly knees-bent running about advancing behavior! Let us wave our private parts at their aunties, and go back to BTS!" To which, of course, I would have to reply, "Ew... and okay."
So, it looks like it might be safe to start writing HWD again, but just to be cautious, I'm going to head over to ECL first. And I'm watching you, you daffy English kaniggets!
(Don't tell the GM, but I think Monty Python and the Holy Grail might be a perfect metaphor for this game. My Muse seems to think so at any rate.)]
The Heartwood The Highland Path Highside, West of Silk Creek Ravine After Sunset and then On the Road Attaday, the eighth day of Poet
Bekkah, Daxia, Darian, Mikal, Jankin, Dean, Cesare, Kadri... Morning Star, Longtooth, Kay and Romana
"So ...
"Are you burkes going to be standin' there come sun up and sun down?"
It was one of the guards who broke from his ranks. Both he and his steed his steed made a metallic shuffle as they approached the small knot of travelers. Both wore the gold and red of the Imperial church.
It took a second look, a closer one, to note the additional gold embroidery subtle, running next to the gold stripe running the length of surcoat and mantle. A star. A crown. And a bear.
"Real folks, real people ..."
He waved his hand, noting the line gathering behind them, as they formed a knot at this important intersection, right before the first gates of Grand Talantal.
" ... have business to attend to. Stop gawking and get out of the way."
The first to move course, was Dancer, easily nudged aside by her rider. Romana oh so properly ducked her head and stepped aside.
The first hint of a problem, however, occurred from the one on foot, eyes narrowed, peering up from beneath the fall of traitorous bangs. Kay growled.
"'e means people what aren't standing around like bumps on a log in th' middle of the road an' are gettin' on wit' their doins. So 'haps we should move an' get through that gate before she goes to sleep over the far horizon?"
She looks up at the rider, doing her best to look all peasanty and unimportant again.
"Just normal folks, nothing anyone need bother or pay mind, eh? Leastways, long as we get out o' t'way."
This could get bad, fast so reluctantly Bekkah stepped forward between Kay and the guard. She knew that this was one of those times where her station carried even more weight than usual.
In her white robes there was no mistaking the golden haired woman for anything other than a Lady of Attera.
"Yes, of course good sir. We shall take in the beauty of your city when we are out of the way of traffic. Please forgive us." she said this but the way she stood before the man, she was clearly not asking for forgiveness. Her words and stance were meant to end the encounter.
"Come friends, let us find a good inn." she turned back to the guard.
"Good sir would you have a recommendation for us?"
By the time they reached the small village — well... a village of a sort, at any rate, though carving homes into the rocks themselves was likely no small or simple task — Daxia wasn’t the least bit surprised to hear the murmurings from the villagers.
Politics. Her Khorall had done what she knew to be best for her people; but like ripples in a pond, the effects of Linnell Allaine’s actions didn’t stop at Snowgate Pass. Both the Khorall and the Heir knew this, of course. It was a passing strange thought that those in the Korie lands were only slightly less upset at the sight of a Dayalan and her Unicorn than the folks of Romana’s lands might be. The only difference that Daxia could see was that the Cohrlayans would be considerably more upfront and honest about wanting to run a sword through her.
She sighed to herself.
Even she was getting tired of politics.
The trip had been more than interesting. Kay made her laugh more often than not. There had been times she’d understood why Lily might have bopped Kay over the head; perhaps her something sort of cousin Dandy might have already done the same. Should they venture into Dom Dominie’s little village, Dazi herself might need to bop her once or twice. But Kay was bright and curious... bold and not the least bit afraid to speak her mind. Daxia imagined Gillyflower had probably been a bit like that when she was young, too.
When they’d arrived at the crossroads, and it took no skill to notice Mikal’s unease. That he spoke loud enough for anyone in the party to hear his tale made Daxia, at first, think of it as a warning away from that road... away from the information she hoped could be found at a mill somewhere in the Montague lands.
However, this unexpected event changed her mind about that. And made her realize Kay would need to be bopped sooner rather than later.
She nudged Morning Star closer to Kay, Kadri and Bekkah, leaned down and took hold of the back of Kay’s tunic collar. “Youngling,” the elder Dayalan said mildly, “I would have thought by now you would have learned the proper way to address your betters... that way being silence.” She released Kay’s tunic and tapped her lightly on the back of the head. “Go stand with the Hunter.”
Daxia straightened and rose to her full height in the saddle, and looked at the guard as an equal. “Your pardon, sir... the child is rather selective in what she wishes to learn.” The Dayalan’s eyes then shifted to the Atteran priestess.
“I know you have business in the city, dear sister, just as I have business outside it. Perhaps we could meet here again in a handful or two once our separate tasks are complete? Those who wish to see the glory of Grand Talantal should, of course, join you. Those with no interest in such...” She glanced briefly at Kay. “...and those who have yet to learn how to comport themselves appropriately may join me on my errand.”
Apart from finding a forge and that is not a quick errand, he has no particular leanings in either direction, instead he looks at Darian with a lifted eyebrow and enquiring look, thinking she will probably opt for Daxia's errand as she is no more a city person than he is.
The Hunter had been more quiet than usual, which is to say exceptionally. The closer they came to the lands of the Grey Men the less she spoke. She spent her time observing, watching, listening and keeping Longtooth close and her bow ready to draw.
She planned or wanted no vengeance as Mikal did. She gave the Grey Men the due respect they deserved as a dangerous pack hunting predator. If her whole Pack could not stand against them, she, as a lone Hunter, must proceed with caution. There was no shame in living to Hunt another day.
As they came upon the great city they called Talantal, that stretched farther than her eyes could see, she looked upon it with suspicion. In the other smaller places they had been through, Bordertown and Cragside, she had wondered at all those people huddling behind walls living on top of each other with no places to run and hunt. And she had seen what it had done to the one who claimed to be Hunter who lived with them.
As they came to the gates she stood to the side, eyeing the walls, the gate and those that guarded them with equal suspicion. She rested one hand on Longtooth's furry head as she considered her options. She had enjoyed traveling with this small group of folk who were quite different from any she had ever known. There was always advantage in learning the ways of others, much as one would study the ways of the beasts.
At Dazi's pronounce both about Kay and to her sister, the Hunter looked up and met the Dayalan's eyes. She gave a brief nod of assent and agreement. She had no desire to journey beyond these tall walls into the press of unwashed masses.
Jankin was now very close to the guard and Kay, standing alone, as if not a part of the group, gazing at the city in wonder. Part of it was acting his part, but much of it was quite real. This was amazing, stupefying, and no place for the likes of him to be sure.
[[ooc note ... Mikal would know its 2-3 weeks one way from Talantal to Montague, not counting any stay overs, perhaps a little over a week to Brockman's.]]
In watching Darian, her nod confirms that they are going with Daxia.
He takes a last look at the city, a part of him wanting to go and explore.. but he would feel the same way if he had made the other choice. Rhoni like to explore.. and then move on.. be it cities or trails. And Kadri has the right of it whether caused by her or not, cities are places of trouble.
Darian seems a little distracted of late, he is concerned but respects her privacy. They are close enough now that if she wants to talk the opportunities are there.
He sits quietly on Talia, eyes downcast. His head turns towards the trail to Montague and Brockman's, then swivels back toward Talantal, then back to the trail, then back to the city.
**Choose between two places I really do not want to go to.**
He has spent his life, after leaving the farm, avoiding cities like Talantal, well, quick revision, there aren't other cities like Talantal, so really just avoiding any cities.
He has also never returned back home since he left, to pay his respects, and he has more than a fair amount of guilt about that. Sure, he explains it to himself as a simple safety precaution to avoid accidents were he to cross a Montague 'press' gang, but that is becoming less and less valid an excuse each day as they get closer and closer to Brockman's and the road to his family's farm.
Finally, with a large sigh he reach into his saddlebag and takes out a large piece of burlap, He slides it over his shield, covering the new device he recently had painted on it.
He looks at Daxia and says simply, "We will stop so I may pay respects." It is not a question.
"It will be about a week's travel to Brockman's, perhaps another week or so to Montague lands."
The Heartwood The Highland Path Highside, West of Silk Creek Ravine After Sunset and then On the Road Attaday, the eighth day of Poet
Bekkah, Daxia, Darian, Mikal, Jankin, Dean, Cesare, Kadri... Morning Star, Longtooth, Kay and Romana
"My betters?"
it seems the youngling must have had practice voicing her views with her toes barely touching ground as she is hauled upwards; which is an easy task considering her relative un-sizeness.
"They didn't even bother to come to the fight!"
She bounced on her feet when dropped, which only meant the rap on her head ended up a solid one, though she didn't complain.
"Fine ...
"I'll go stand with the Hunter ...
"I won't talk ...."
With a farmer's disgruntled walk she retreated, though, halfway between Darian and Daxia she dood look back over her shoulder,
"Can I at least point and laugh?"
Upon her white horse Romana had to bite her tongue hard to keep her own composure.
The Knight listened and watched, looking down from his destrier, patient, proud and definitely showing that he is but suffering their presence.
"Your youngling is lucky that it is beneath me to strike a girl."
He paused, waiting for the little group to clear the road.
"Don't make me order one of my squires to do it for me."
(OOC - Other than a comment from Bekkah about needing to do something in Talatal, it seems everyone else would prefer to bypass the city and go towards Brockman's and Montague.)
“Of course we will, Mikal.” Daxia said that as though there was no other option in the world.
Then her mind raced, and Paths blossomed before her. Oh, how she hated when they did that! It’s not like she was as good at this as Kisa was. It could take her most of the evening to figure them all out. But they did have one thing in common...
“Lady Bekkah, might we step off to the side to say our farewells, and leave his good man in peace?” Dazi’s smile was a slightly less exuberant one than she might have shown her sister at home when they were growing up, but it conveyed all the mischief of another Dazi Scheme.
“Good sir, my youngling — luckily for her — is known for her good luck.” With that, the Dayalan urged Morning Star to join the others who gathered out of the way and off the road. Then, more importantly, she urged them all out of earshot of the Korie Knight... and all of the real people trying to get into Talantal.
She waited until Bekkah joined them, staring at Dean with a raised eyebrow the entire time. Then she looked at her sister with mischief in her eyes.
“Bekkah, it has just occurred to me, thanks to Mikal, that if we travel together on the road to Brockman’s and beyond... and then travel together back to this fine city, we would arrive here again at Midsummer.” Daxia paused to recalculate the timing. “Perhaps even a few days earlier.
“Visiting Talantal at Midsummer would make your task so much easier, with all the throngs of people about... the confusion and bedlam that is bound to exist when most of the world is trying to visit the grandest city of all at the very time the Noble Families are meeting for their Midsummer Council.”
Daxia tried to imagine it, and very nearly shuddered at the thought. Midsummer in the Vale was hectic, but it was home. She hadn’t liked Cragside, she hadn’t liked Brementown, she hadn’t liked Bordertown, and Daxia had to honestly admit to herself that she was predisposed — despite her training — to dislike Talantal, sight unseen.
“And it would be a much better time for me to visit Talantal.” She sighed. “Well, assuming our Khorall doesn’t send Dandy as the lone Allaine representative again. Though... if I think that would be a bad idea, surely Kisa figured it out months ahead of me. So I’m sure Kisa will be able to convince her mother it would be a bad idea.” Dazi smiled brightly again. “What better way for a Dayalan to enter Talantal than as a member of the Allaine Family guard?
“Yes? Yes! So, of course we’ll all travel to Brockman’s with Mikal to honor his family.”
She became very serious, and turned to Mikal. “It is a difficult thing you do, and you should do this surrounded by your friends.”
Turning back to Bekkah, Dazi continued, “And we’ll all venture further into Montague lands to chase down my harebrained idea. The point being, of course, that we’ll be together.”
Then Daxia looked down at Kay and sighed.
“I know they didn’t come to the fight, Kay. But I obviously haven’t impressed upon you yet that the Kories are the most powerful of the Noble Families this side of Snowgate Pass. Or that the most powerful of the Noble Families who isn’t Korie is the Noble Family that sponsors the Dayalans. You do not need to be an Allaine to be considered an ally of the Allaines when you are a Dayalan... even a Wild Dayalan.” Dazi shook her head. “Not that any of them would know the difference.
“And I obviously haven’t impressed upon you just how much the Kories dislike the Allaines, or the Allaines the Kories. Well, in general,” she added, thinking about young Dominic. “So would you please try not to antagonize the nice Korie Knights... or anyone else, for that matter? Thank you. I appreciate it. And I wish I had a leaky bucket for you to fill up every day.”
She shifted her eyes to the westering Sun. “I suppose it’s too late to profusely apologize to Kassia for every annoying thing I ever did that I didn’t even know was annoying, isn’t it, My Lady? Yes? Well, of course it would be. Just as long as You understand I have no idea what I’m doing, which of course You would.”
Then Daxia tapped Morning Star on his neck. “You, O Magnificent One, can stop laughing, too. I’m not sure I can find apples for a laughing unicorn.”
Well it seems like they are all going.. and then all coming back here. It suits him. They have a strength together and that is worth preserving. And he will get to see the city later.. even though Darian will probably hate it.. though there could well be the compensation of a comfortable bed amongst other things to give some compensation.
He looks over at his lover with a grin. She can probably tell what he is thinking.
The Heartwood The Highland Path Highside, West of Silk Creek Ravine After Sunset and then On the Road Attaday, the eighth day of Poet
Bekkah, Daxia, Darian, Mikal, Jankin, Dean, Cesare, Kadri ... Morning Star, Longtooth, Kay and Romana
The black unicorn would simply stomp his foot, whuffle and clip clop his way down the path, heading along the cliffy ramparts that rose over the way they had previously passed. The stallion had an agreement upon apples, serious business, and then, as he looked ahead his ears did, however, fall back.
And he turned his head, just giving his rider a look.
"Oh ... I've seen that look before."
Kay turned her head up, dark eyes sharp.
"Well I have. And I'll be good."
She did, however, follow obediently as they began their first steps back in a westerly direction.
"And aye, I know my lessons. You have to obey Yrick, never try and out fox an Allaine, always keep a Korie happy, never hurt a Kierkegaard critter, never try and hide from a Corliss, never make one of Brockman's angry, you just can't hate Larsen, its impossible to keep a secret from a Konstantin and if'n you are hurt, find a Terilanquel.
"He was just a guard ... like me. Kinda. Maybe. Not a Noble. Probably grew up on a farm just like me and weren't the oldest who would actually get the farm ...
"And you heard that? Cor ... if'n you folks start rubbing my head too, I'll be bald by winter. Then catch my death of cold. And you'll all feel right powerful guilty.
"YIKES!"
Someone had reached down to playfully tossle the young sword sister's hair.
The Montague Trail
It was a very strange and somewhat familiar ride.
One could see how this trail was valuable, and why it was a prize sitting between the rich farm lands of Talantal and the rocky quarries buried deep upon the Highside. Every eve there was a tavern, but there was also a true stone watch tower, one set at the very edge of the broken stone cliffs. Their path doubled back the way they came; but while the Highland Path was cut into the side of the ravine this one overlooked that road. From the top of the cliffs one could look far far down and see anyone trying to approach the western lands.
It took a couple days ride to leave the influence of the Kories; and one could easily tell when that was. The colors changed, and it was not that of spring. The greening farms were left behind and replaced by harsh stretches of burnt yellow, of heather barely able to break the rocky soil. There was wildlife; or at least the signs of it. Perhaps this was once cattle country ... perhaps this is where sheep were raised.
But if there were ranches ... they are mostly empty, their herds now wild.
Darian and Longtooth found the truth of this; in the carcasses discovered, here and there, off the trails but near where there was abit of grass for grazing.
The only critters that seemed to prosper in the lands of Brockman were the wolves and nighthawks.
The villages, the ones they passed through were quiet and withdrawn; the dust rolled through them instead of ruffs and children. Those who lived within seemed to be old; as if they had passed the age where moving on was possible; tied to their land by pragmatic economics or unpragmatic pride.
"Cor ... looky ... an ridin in and not ridin outwardsly ..."
"That's nothin' but trouble ..."
"That's three crown for the hard tack an' water. Conversation. Look around lassie, what is there left to talk about?"
"What do you expect. First you can't keep your own guards ... then you cant keep those bought ... where there's nothing but death, of course the vultures come flyin' round."
That was a simple and harsh explanation; of why this trail was not watched over by those in Brockman's livery. A day out and the guards wore the colors of Rames and Korie. For both bekkah and Dean this should have been perplexing; if one hold allegiance to to Lords and Lady of The Imperial Court they should not be beholden to any mortal rulers, Noble or not.
Two days out the road patrols bore only Korie heraldry ... and then, for a bit, as they approached the Keep, the roads were empty save; not even merchants took this trail it seemed, or at least not often enough to kick up the dust or cause any traffic.
Passing by Brockman's Holdfast was haunting.
In tall honey marble, finely cut, it watched over both this trail and the Highland Path; one could almost imagine that someone with sharp eyes might even see the battered bridge from here. There was the remnants of a town at the keep's feet' but it seemed sluggish, it was not abandoned but there were many shops boarded up. Here there were children; to look up at their horses in awe, to point at a unicorn and run away, to race circles around Kadri wondering if she was just a big kid and how did she get such a pretty horsey.
They were covered in dust and their garb screamed how poor they were.
"... a princess on a pony ... a hand of pretty shells ... dark man ... dark man ... where is my princess now ..."
The children skipped in the dust, singing their silly sing song ... only to scatter when the keep's guardian clomped down the rough path leading to the keep. They ran in all directions, vanishing like snow upon a frying pan.
These guard were not confused in their livery.
They wore gray.
"Move on. The Keep ain't takin' any appointments, especially the likes of you. Get on with it"
"Sure... go ahead."
"They'll love you up by the lake.
"Heard the Lord's thrall has a likin' for redheads."
Rough laughter would follow them as they continued east, riding into a bleak sunrise.
The further east, the rougher and more inhospitable the land would become. Brown grass and moss seemed to be the only thing grown naturally and what farms there were seemed to only harvest dust.
The land was sick, it was dying. As if it shared the grim and heartless soul of those who now ruled here.
One of the travelers could not help but to see this, to feel it.
It was like walking through a nightmare.
Finally ... the wind slashing it was a wild beast, sending clouds of brown into the air, sending worn bramble rolling, they came upon a farm long abandoned - the house now gray and shorn with holes and fallen timbers - the wattle and daub nothing more than broken brown dirt. What were fields now sported thinning hay, like a mangy dog. There were a few trees here, mostly leaf less, struggling each day as if it were their last.
He had started in good spirits but as the days passed and the countryside turned to gray death, he becomes more subdued. Something definitely wrong here and he didn't like it.
It is like the land is under a curse.
He is unlikely to find Rhoni on this trail, not that he is expecting any but Rhoni follow fruitful paths, not this bleakness. No bounty to be found here.
He felt as if the land was crying out, and entered a sort of walking meditation, where each footfall of his on the earth carried with it a prayer, a blessing, a hope.
She looked back longingly at the city as they started away. She would have loved to have spent some time there, but being with her little sister meant far more to her. So once decided, she continued on without complaint. Which was really no surprise to anyone since Bekkah rarely complained.
"Perhaps we shall see it at Midwinter little one. But I suspect that our current path makes future planning somewhat unpredictable. We shall see what happens and take it all in stride."
Her spirits dropped as they crossed into this barren land. It was not a place she had traveled to in her years amongst the people. She pulled her cloak tighter around herself to ward from the chill although it was probably equally as much to ward against the feeling she had in this place. She would be glad to be elsewhere and as soon as possible.
Kadri frowned as they traveled. This place was ... Oppressive. Stifling.
"Evil is, where evil lies, evil lives where hope it dies. Hope and grace here lie entombed in ice, imprisoned by the grey device."
She pauses, then attempts a low lilting song, more a nursery rhyme almost, just to keep the oppression back a peg.
"Day is grey', day is gray, she's away, she's away. Darkened sky, darkened heart. Looks as soon, rain may start. Still the sun, she shines away, ever bright, behind the grey. Shining on, never gone, light breaks through, afore too long .."
She pats Lisica on the neck and gives her a quick hug.
He heaved a large sigh as they turned up the trail and rode along with the others. He was cheerless and spoke little. It was only as they stopped at inns or passed by villages that he seemed to rouse from his stupor, smiling and pausing to exchange a word or two here and there with people he obviously recognized.
In the evenings it was virtually impossible to draw him into conversation, his replies typically consisting of little more than a bare minimum reply or a grunted acknowledgement.
As they passed Brockman's holdfast, and the marble walls and outlying village came into view a flicker of expression crossed his features. An odd combination of both hope and hopelessness.
When the children come running out in natural curiosity, mostly to see the unicorn, but also as strangers not dressed in Gray are by themselves unusual enough to draw attention, he smiles at them and hands Talia's reins to them, one by one, asking them to lead her along the trail and offering each one a few small coins in return for the chore.
The encounter with the Gray clad Montague guards bring clenched teeth and whitened knuckles, but he does not overtly react. The children wisely have scattered by then and he reaches down to retrieve Talia's reins from where the last one dropped it.
As they move past Brockman's, the wind picks up, howling in an appropriately mournful sounding tone. It continues this way until passing over a small rise they come upon the scene of a lone, abandoned farmhouse.
He stops Talia at the top of the rise and simply sits and stares. The fields show long abandonment, and seem as if they practically resent the thought that anyone ever even tried to make something grow here.
A shutter, hanging by a single hinge bangs repeatedly in the wind, offering an almost surreal audible metaphor of the still continuing abuse the former owners of this place endured.
After several minutes of silence, Mikal points to the barn, which looks in as bad shape as the farmhouse. "Stable the horses there. We will be spending the night."
He finally glances around at the others with a crooked twitching of his lips. "Don't worry. I know it looks like it will collapse at any minute, but my father, uncle, and I drove every nail and turned every screw. We cut every board that sits here by hand. It is stronger than it looks."
He clicks his teeth and nudges Talia forward towards the barn. Dismounting silently and leading her inside.
The barn looks as bleak and as lost as the rest of the land, fitting in a way. Knowing that Mikal had a hand in its construction though does take away some of the bleakness and its walls will at least restrict the view of nothingness that surrounds them here.
And he'll be glad to be under shelter out of the wind and rain.
"Myself, I tend to think that I prefer something that seems shabby on the outside but is straight as steel than something which has the look of solidity but is instead rickety and weak. Many things are not what they seem. I trust your hands. "
Daxia had her reasons for venturing into these dreary, desolate lands. Each step they took only seemed to underscore the hopelessness she felt about the fate of Innocence Allaine. Was this particular quest anything more than simple intellectual curiosity? And was learning the fate of her kinswoman — however distantly related she might be — worth the journey they were making? Was this purely hubris on her part, thinking she could learn everything, solve every riddle? And even if she found the answers to her questions, what then? It would only be information to tuck into the space in her mind that itched for completion, for closure.
Perhaps, someday, she could tell this tale to Kisa. But as fair and kind, as intelligent and clever as her Khorall was, it was not a story that could be told to Linnell. That was a Path even she could see was one to be avoided at all cost. Not knowing what happened to her sister those many years ago, or believing her to be dead, was certainly better than the truth... for knowing the truth could — perhaps would — set Linnell on the very Path Kisa had foreseen, the Path Daxia and her friends had eliminated in Cragside.
Before they’d ventured too far down the road from Talantal, she’d asked her friends to speak with... well, whomever they wished about stories of the red haired wife of a miller. She knew each of them could ask the same question of the same person, and not only would a person hear eight different questions, but there would be eight different answers. Who was Miller McLaine’s mysterious wife? Did she still live? Was it true they had a daughter who had run off one day? Or had the child been kidnapped, perhaps?
Something the guard said... about their lord’s thrall having a liking for red haired women... made her wonder if Poppy hadn’t known more than Dazi knew now, and knew it years ago. Had Poppy’s young initiate run off... or had Poppy known what fate was before her if the girl stayed with the miller and her mother? Had Poppy known who the miller’s wife was? Maybe it was wishful thinking or maybe it was obvious now that she walked into the lion’s den, but Daxia suspected Poppy knew the part of this story that she was now trying to verify. If what she suspected was true, Poppy could no more have revealed the truth than Dazi could. That Path led to war. It was no wonder Poppy was rarely seen in the Vale... assuming, of course, she knew the truth that Daxia only suspected. How could anyone with an ounce of compassion not want to ease the heart and mind of a woman who’d lost her sister? And yet, how could anyone with a shred of intelligence be able to ease Linnell’s pain... for to do so would lead to retaliation against the Kories and Montagues. And with what evidence?
Well, Daxia had found the evidence in a grove where a demon was defeated and an Eastern princess saved. But fitting all the puzzle pieces together would make a stronger case against the Kories and Montagues, and retaliation no more reasonable an action today than it would have been eighteen years — no, nineteen now — ago. Then, the continent might have been set into a civil war, leaving a trail as wide as the High Tarn itself through which the East could ride. Now...
Now, Kisa was playing the game, as well. Daxia had no illusions that she was much more than a piece to be played on the board... and yet, at the same time, the very piece Kisa was least likely to risk. She had that much satisfaction. For all the trials and tribulations she’d been through since leaving Dawnview Vale, Daxia knew that she and Kisa were pivotal to the peace of the mainland. The Snowqueen’s heart had melted, and the Heir of Allaine, too, had been moved from one Path to another. Had Linnell Seen what might well have happened to her daughter? Had a fortuitous delivery of Doublebluff tiles been a Khorall’s opportunity to steer her Family and her people toward a better fate? Or had it been a mother’s love that nudged two young women toward a friendship that would tangentially lead to the same result? And being an Allaine, wasn’t it possible that Linnell could act as both Khorall and mother to use one moment on a snowy Midwinters night to give a better future to Dawnview Vale and her daughter?
Had she been manipulated that night? Oh, Daxia had always known she had been... but ultimately it hadn’t mattered. She’d been fascinated by Kisa’s pattern of tiles on the floor... which led to the most tenuous of friendships... which, over the next six years had deepened into the most solid friendship either woman was likely to have had. And had Khorall and mother not been rightly concerned about her Heir and daughter’s fate, the young Dayalan would have not had quite the same thirst for knowledge. Kassia had seen the potential, had done her best to teach Dazi not only what every Dayalan should know, not only what every Dayalan on the path to being a Priestess of their Lady should know, but what a Knight of Dawnview Castle should know. It had taken Kisa to push Daxia to that last bit of learning. And now, here she was, truly a Knight... though was she truly a Knight of Dawnview?
Bekkah’s and Dean’s subtly raised eyebrows on seeing the Knights of Rames in Korie colors didn’t escape Dazi’s notice. And that, too, made her think... perhaps more than she really need to think. It wasn’t until she saw the oddity of the Knight’s uniforms that she wondered at the relationship between her own order that the Noble Family Allaine.
Everyone knew about the Imperial Court, even those who served other Gods or Goddesses. One followed one’s Deity first and foremost, whether that Deity be Rames, Attera or Hastur; Dayala, Jvrill, Arylis, Khannish. And then, and only secondarily, would one follow one’s mortal leader. For many, especially in the far reaches of the High Tarn, it wasn’t difficult to do... their gods were ever-present, their Khorall and his vassals often much less so. But for those with close ties to a Noble Family, might that line, the distinction between service to one’s Deity and service to one’s Khorall, be blurred?
Daxia saw the desolation of this land around her, and yet it was a lesson, too. Was she guilty of the same mistake these Knights of Rames made? Did her loyalty to the Noble Family Allaine, her love of the Heir, blur the lines between her duty to Dayala and her duty to her Khorall? Dazi didn’t think so, but then she’d never had those duties tested, either.
And Gilly’s words came back to her then, from so long ago that Dazi hadn’t even grown to her full height yet, from a day when Dazi had asked her teacher about Brighteyes. They keep us honest.
Was that part of the unicorn’s role in a Dayalan’s life? To point at a place where his warrior might be blurring that line? Morning Star had obliquely made reference to the blurring on this Path she was taking. No, there were no apples to be found on this road... and yes, they did have an agreement about apples. Perhaps this meant — aside from the obvious that Morning Star had an unusual fondness for and obsession with apples — that she ought to examine the reasons for walking this Path, and in whose service she did so.
If she was honest — and in this instance, there was no point in anything but honesty — she sought answers on this road for neither her Khorall nor to right a wrong in service of Dayala. She walked this Path because she needed to know, she needed to look into the face of Innocence Allaine and see whatever it might be that she would see. After nearly a lifetime, Daxia expected... well, she expected nothing. She hoped to see a flicker of life left and she feared to see the abandonment of all hope.
But why was this so important to her? In the great meanderings of Paths she could see, it made no difference one way or the other. Knowing and not knowing what happened to the Lady of Snowgate Keep had the same effect on the Paths Dazi could see. Far into the future, perhaps the knowledge would make a difference. Only Kisa would be able to see that far, and Dazi still wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do to tell Kisa any part of this tale. Not yet. Most assuredly not in writing, not even in Ancient.
And how long would it take to get back to Dawnview Vale? She had already been away for half a year. No longer on her Duksheviya, she was a Wild Dayalan whose responsibility was to remain in the world, and make an attempt to return to the Temple once a year. Given how long it had taken to arrive here, she didn’t see the likelihood of seeing the Vale before next Midsummer. And how could she return east until she knew Romana would be safe?
Dearest Dayala, how had her life become so strange that she worried about returning home, where her beloved waited for her, because it might leave an Eastern princess in danger? No doubt Romana could fend for herself. She was highly intelligent and extremely resourceful. But an Easterner alone in these lands? That, to Daxia, would put the woman at too much risk. It was better for her to be the shy, quiet, strange one in a group of many than a quiet and strange one all alone. Surely there was a place in the world where Romana could be safe, but Daxia could hardly think of one. Still, she hadn’t seen all the world yet... perhaps the Larsens of Talesan’s Village would welcome her. Dean was from that area... Poppy was said to winter there... Dean had hardly batted an eye at Romana, though that was probably because he’d been in shock about everything else that had happened when they’d rescued Romana. Still, in all this time on the road, he’d never seemed to mind her presence... or even notice that she was any more unusual than anyone else in the party.
Of course, he had been rather monomaniacal in his devotion to Bekkah. On the one hand, that was the task his Knight had set before him. Daxia knew a thing or two about doing what needed to be done. On the other hand, he had managed to drive her sister to the verge of not very Atteran-like behavior. Ah, well... perhaps his Knight had failed to mention that the Ladies of Attera — especially their priestesses — all had backbones... and that they were made of ironsilver. It seemed Dean had figured that out, though. Back at the gates of Talantal, when it looked as though they might split the party, Dean had very deliberately chosen to take this path rather than accompany Bekkah into Talantal. Oh, it had been subtle, there was no doubt about that. But thinking back on that moment made Dazi smile... not because of the nearly expressionless look Dean had given Bekkah, not because he’d perhaps come to realize Bekkah didn’t need his constant protection — though in Talantal, that might be the one place where even Imperials were better off not alone — but because he had obviously taken time, however great or small an amount of time it had been, to think about the task his Knight had set before him. Even if all the thoughts had been subconscious ones, and his decision had been entirely instinctive, it meant he was growing. And learning to think for himself, and question what his teachers had taught him. That was good. That was very good. Better to question a teacher’s words — and hadn’t she pelted Kassia with more than the woman’s fair share? — and understand them than to follow blindly the orders of one’s superiors. True, following orders was important. For many, that was all they needed. But those destined to be leaders — she didn’t doubt that Dean would reach that point some day — needed to understand the how and why in order to make better decisions themselves.
Dazi wasn’t sure she’d gotten to that point yet. Indeed, she was certain she was still fumbling her way through this job of leading the group, but it was possible that she’d managed to get one or two things right.
The mood of her friends didn’t escape Dazi’s notice as they traveled, despite her apparent preoccupation. For all the thoughts tumbling around inside her head, her senses were focused on the outer world. She hadn’t been this quiet since the trip down the mountain leading to Cragside. She hadn’t been this introspective for so long since living in the Temple at Dawnview.
She saw the desolation around her, but she wasn’t sure it affected her as it affected her friends. Perhaps it was because she’d had so many discussions with Kisa about the many and varied ways rulers’ decisions could affect their people. Given what she knew of the Montagues, the only thing that really surprised her on this journey was the melding of the Rames and Korie colors. Even that... even that made a sad kind of sense in light of what Dominic had said.
Daxia was even more quiet than Mikal, sitting with Bekkah in the evenings... or perhaps with Darian and Longtooth, silently scritching the ruff’s ears. She managed smiles more than most, but words had become a rare and precious commodity.
There was only one time she nearly broke what seemed a vow of silence... when the guards spoke of their lord’s thrall and his fascination with redheads. But she bit her tongue, because no matter how diplomatically she managed to phrase her question, she knew it would not be diplomatic enough. She was a Dayalan and, to the uninformed observer, an Allaine; her words would only antagonize. She could only hope that one of her friends would ask the questions as she turned away... who is this thrall? Have there been other redheads? And who have they been?
The song... yes, the children’s song almost seemed to verify all her fears.
It worried her that Bekkah was so... well, sad. Bekkah had never been sad, except when Marcus had died. But other than that dreadful wound to her heart, Bekkah had always been so cheerful, so upbeat, so optimistic. Dazi and Morning Star rarely left Bekkah’s side as they traveled, whether Bekkah rode Fern or led her along. There was something peaceful, though, about sharing a hard road with her sister. Though, in true Bekkah fashion, her dear sister did seem to be taking more of the emotional burden of this quest than was her fair share.
Mikal’s silence and behavior made complete sense, and Daxia wished she could do for him what Bekkah’s presence did for her. But this was Mikal’s home, and there was no way for her to completely understand his pain and sorrow. She could well imagine it, but there was nothing for her to do except be present... be a friend with an ear to listen and a heart to care. It hardly seemed strange to her anymore that she felt the same way about Mikal that she would about any of her sword sisters. He was a brother in arms, he was a friend... it was that simple.
She noted Kay’s silence as well. That wasn’t particularly surprising either. Kay was accustomed to seeing lands well-tended or ravaged by war. Had she ever seen something as foul as Montague... with lands ravaged by neglect and domination?
When they arrived at Mikal’s homestead, she looked at the barn and shrugged. They’d stayed in structures that looked nearly as unsound on their journey from Cragside to this place. If Mikal had a hand in building it, she would trust his word that it was sturdy.
Nudging Morning Star to follow Mikal, she dismounted and the two of them followed Mikal and Talia into the barn. His Pretentious Magnificence may not want to stay inside such a hovel all night, but his tack certain would.
His was a touchstone, though, and she managed to remove bridle and saddle and blanket without thoughts of despair flooding her.
She brushed his midnight coat, noting that the sigal on his neck needed a touch up. Most wouldn’t notice; but a single line of one star was slightly worn away. When she was finished, she sat quietly beside Bekkah. Just as he had had different rituals for the fallen Jvrillians in the grove so long ago, Mikal would have his own way of saying a proper goodbye to his family.
Daxia would honor them, and honor him, by following his traditions.
He had noticed, obviously, the Montague guards who'd come out of Brockman's, but considering the rate of decline of the family Brockman, the Holdfast, and the surrounding lands, he simply assumed that over the years he'd been away Montague had finally laid claim to the last vestiges of what was left. He does wonder what happened to Dag Brockman, his wife and daughters. Even the little son of Lady Tanna. But whatever it was, he doesn't expect there's too much he can do about it.
So he busies himself getting Talia settled alongside the other mounts. Giving her a good brushing and feeding and cleaning and oiling his gear.
After a time, he realizes he is making excuses, and taking a deep breath, he moves off to the main house. He pauses at the weather beaten front door, and seeing the boot scraper is still beside it he carefully cleans his boots of road mug. The incongruousness of the fact that it is probably dirtier inside than out is lost on him. He then grasps the handle and pulls it open, smiling slightly as the door open with hardly any squeaking.
Stepping into the entryway his gaze is drawn automatically to the hand crafted wooden bench against the wall, and he frowns as he sees the mirror that hangs above it is cracked and several pieces have fallen to the floor and shattered. He bends down and picks them up, holding them in his hand for a moment or two before letting them fall back to the floor with a sigh.
He then moves slowly through the house, from room to room. Pausing for a time in each room, the memories flooding back in a tidal wave. The meals in the kitchen. The laughter of his sister and the smiles of his parents and Uncle. The hand-built fireplace in the living room. His fingers unconsciously find the small chip in it's mantle from where he hit it with an axe when he was 5 and was pretending to be Mikal Allina, Hero of Jemminy's Hill. His hand reaches back to touch his butt. His father had paddled his bottom good that evening, although he realizes now it was from worry he might have hurt himself or his sister who was in the room watching and giggling more than the small nick in the stone.
He looks into his parents bedroom, remembering the laughter and giggles he'd always heard coming from it, and then the sobbing and silence after his father and Uncle were taken.
Finally, he reaches the bedroom he shared with his sister. He simply stands and stares. Tears rolling unashamedly down his face. His shoulders heaving with sobs. He sees the bed made for he and his sister by his Uncle, still standing in the corner, and he collapses across it, not surprised that it holds his weight, even after the years of neglect.
He lays there for a long time. Several hours pass since he entered the house. Eventually he sits up and placing his hands upon the remains of the coverlet to rise, he feels a bump underneath. Curious he turns the cover over and sees nothing. He feels again and realizes it is something that is inside the covers. Carefully he tugs at some loose threads, and with very little effort the seams part and a small ring falls out into his palm.
He simply stares at it as even more memories return. His sister was at the age where suitors would soon come calling, and as was the tradition in his family she saved up her pennies and had a small ring of silver made. It was engraved with vines and flowers and had her name etched on the inside. Her suitor would wear it, to let other girls know he was hers and to keep their hands off. She often playfully gave it to Mikal when they played as she pretended he was her suitor and the serious expression on her face and her words to him at that time thunder in his ears: "Never remove this ring", she told him, "if you want my love to last forever."
He'd tease her by pretending to almost take it off, and she'd laugh and swat him. Holding it in his hand now his fingers tremble and he tentatively slips it onto his finger. Where it used to be so loose he had to clench his fist to keep it on, now it fits as if it was made for him all along.
His gaze is drawn out the window, to the small copse of trees in the distance and he smiles through the tears. He then strides out of the house, back to the group.
Upon reaching the barn, he says. "I have to pay my respects in the morning, at first light. We can head on after that." Those present can see his eyes are red and he wears a new piece of jewelry on his hand.
(OOC - I assumed no one would disturb him while he was in the house.)
Unobtrusively, as he often does when someone from their group goes off to collect water or on some other errand, Cesare moves to stand at the entrance to the barn, idly leaning there as if watching the oncoming night arrive. He usually has something in his hands, honing his daggers or cleaning a piece of kit, but his eyes usually watch outwards, listening to sounds and generally keeping watch.
He nods as Mikal returns, making no comment, just mentally ticking off his list.
Before going to sleep that night he carefully cleans and washes the best set of clothes he has and hangs them to dry for morning. He then performs his normal nightly rituals of oiling his leather and using a sharpening stone to remove any nicks in his weapons.
Early, well before dawn, he rises and dresses in the clothing on the line. He leaves all his armour and weapons in the barn and just before sunrise he heads out of the barn walking slowly towards the small copse of old forest growth. He doesn't say anything to the others. If they wish to join him he doesn't dissuade them and if not he doesn't make mention of it either.
As he walks, he stops periodically and reaches down to pick up small stones. Reaching the copse of trees he stops precisely at a spot about 10 feet or so from the base of the largest tree. It is ancient, with gnarled branches and roots that sometimes press above ground.
He stands there silently for some time. Any who have joined him can see there is little to distinguish this spot from any other nearby. Someone with extremely good skills in tracking and nature might be able to detect that the ground here was disturbed at one time, but it has been years since that happened and the grass and root growth have reclaimed the earth.
Kneeling down on the ground, he reaches his hands out to the earth, pressing them flat, as if trying to feel for something. His eyes are dry. He wept for his family last evening and he has made peace with his return. He is now simply honouring their memory.
Moving back up to his knees, he takes the small stones and lays them in a precise pattern on the ground. First is a circle, and beneath it is an upside down "v" shaped arrow point with a line across the top.
"Watch over them Krysta. Keep them safe until I may see them again."
He stands, dusting off his pant legs, and offers a small smile to any who have joined him. "I just need to change and we can get moving. Thank you for indulging me."
She had watched... no, she had carefully observed Mikal last evening both as he cleaned his best clothes and then, with occasional glances, his normal evening routine of caring for his weapons. And so in the morning, when she dressed before her prayers to her Lady as she rose to once again watch over the world, Daxia dressed in her formal attire of white tunics and the black surcoat with silver trim. It hadn’t been a conscious decisions; it had just felt right.
Unlike Mikal, however, her sword hung at her side. True, she was not a Starlord and therefore not required to carry it at all times. Still, since the moment Kassia placed the sword, scabbard and belt in her hands, she had behaved toward it as if she was a Starlord. After all, Starlords were the foremost warriors of Dayala who carried the ironsilver weaponry.
Daxia paused for her prayers to greet Dayala, then followed Mikal silently toward the ancient tree. The observer, the witness... she stood today as friend, as well. She added her own thoughts to Krysta, a prayer of sorts, silently echoing Mikal’s sentiment.
When he stood, she returned his smile, then extended a hand to clasp his forearm... so similar to that day so long ago when she had Sealed an agreement with a Jvrillian who was a near stranger.
“It is no indulgence, my friend. After all you have done for us, for me, it is an honor to bear witness for you this morning.”
He is not altogether comfortable in the rituals of others, and unsure as to whether his presence would be welcome. He has a more practical approach to things and tends to exist more in the present than in the past - the exception being the unknowns in his past which seems to ambush him from time to time when he least expects it.
So he gets up with the others but stays behind preparing breakfast and making preparations for the journey ahead, supporting in the background.
The Heartwood The Highland Path Highside, West of Silk Creek Ravine After Sunset and then On the Road Attaday, the eighth day of Poet
Bekkah, Daxia, Darian, Mikal, Jankin, Dean, Cesare, Kadri ... Morning Star, Longtooth, Kay and Romana
The morning was quiet; the sun casting shadows the entire length of the world, crisscrossing here and there as She poked her had over the far, far off mountains, through the scattered boulders and rock outcroppings of this broken landscape. The jagged streaks seemed to somehow fit the morning solemnness, as Llugh walked from dark to light to grey, collecting his stones. If this land grew anything in abundance, it was small pebbles and chips of rock, more than enough to suit the Jvrillian's purpose.
The black unicorn stood at Daxia's shoulder, grim and silent, the wind tousling his dark mane ever so perfectly, so much like the hero in a minstrel's song. One hoof occasionally scraped at the ground, a harsh *clop* every now and then. His gaze looked to the east first and to the west, followed by a single, sharp equine snort.
It was Longtooth, the snarkhound, the big ruff the only one seeming to ignore the funereal awakening. he hadsomehow found a rabbit or two, which he has dropped down between Darian and Cesare's bedrolls, before finding first a large rock and thn a half bent dying tree ... to end up on the rooftop of the worn and empty house. There he sat, like an elder might, looking towards the rising sun a bit ... as one might from a keep's tall gallery - looking down into the great hall where minstrels and mummers put on their passion play.
A simile, perhaps, lost upon most of this motley crew.
For the rest, the snarkhound simply seemed quite attentive in his watch.
What came next was a gentle footstep.
Followed by a sudden stomp, a little skid and a dark dark look. Where this pair had been, that morning, was a little bit of a mystery; but a commonplace one. As everyone was waking and gathering their things, so did Romana and Kay; for both to have vanished for a little bit before was nothing untoward.
But now they faced each other, on opposite sides of the small gravesite, shadow and light, night and day, east and west, starbred killer and hellspawned princess. Both held their hands cupped, and in both was a clump of dirt from which sprang a splash of color, whites and yellows, dusty and defiant.
Wildflowers.
The look the Dayalan gave the Princess was priceless, a narrowed eyed and fierce one and one didn't have to hear to know it was a how dare you ... of all folkes ... this was MY idea kind of glare.
To which Romana simply shrugged light curvy shoulders, returning only the lightest giggle. She almost lost her burdens, however, when she clamped her hand over her mouth, since this was supposed to be a right serious morning.
The two, almost as one, kneeled. with a bit of trouble, with a bit of work, set the flowers on either side of the pebble runes. When they rose, Romana simply hopped a few steps backwards. Kay humfed, turning on her heel, a full one hundred and eighty degrees and then just crossed her arms.
The transplanted wildflowers wobbled a bit. The two certainly were no matter no famers or gardeners, either of them. But their hearts were in that task. Both of them.
It was not long after that, as Cesare prepared breakfast, that the snarkhound's flopped over ears perked. He still remained sitting, his attention snared by rising whisps of dust further up the trail. And not long after that he rough and staccato beat of hooves upon rock was heard, heralding the approach of tow ... no ... three riders.
They heeled their horses around, when they spied the horses and barn.
"Hoi at the ...."
And Daxia's mount; which did bring a pause.
"... the Richter ..."
"... can't be. That fatherless wench rides alone ..."
They gathered themselves and slowly approached.
"Hoi at the house."
There were three of them. They were dressed roughly, and while they did wear a gray band of cloth, wrapped and knotted about their upper arm, they bore no other tabards or surcoats. Their clothes, mostly leathers and perhaps some bits of plate here and there, were covered with dust - tail dust covering a hint of darker, heavier dusted stone. Their faces were ruddy and tan, as if most of their days were spent out of doors. Two carried simple spears; it was the one with a sword at his side that rode a few steps forward.
"Hoi at the house ...
"Have you seen a bloke pass by, last night, this morn? He'd be a big bloke, burly and all, not dressed to well, heading towards the sunset.
"He'd not be armed, or shouldn't be, last he had been seen.
"But he's prolly have steel about wrists and ankles, and if there's still chains on them, that'd prolly be right dangerous."
He'd watched, silently observing Lugh's ritual, offering his respect, and had wandered out towards the front in time to observe the dialogue with the mounted men. Initially, he'd been mildly afraid they might be referring to him, but 'big and burly with manacles' didn't seem a good fit so he relaxed.
He nods thanks to Kay and Romana as they lay wildflowers near the tree and then clasps Daxia's arm in return as they turn to go. "Still, you have my thanks." He says simply, and earnestly, in return.
..... Later that morning.......
Buckling the final straps on his armour and weapon belts he steps out from the barn and observes the men who had just ridden up coolly. **Montagne wannabes? .... no......** his expression turns grimmer, **..... guards from the quarries, ...chasing a runaway.**
He steps out of the barn and looks up at the swordsman. "Why do you look for him?"
She watched from a handful of paces behind Mikal, dressed now in traveling tunics and armor. This was his home; he understood these lands better than she. Although... she understood them well enough to guess who these men were, and who they might be following. Quarry guards or overseers... chasing down a man who’d escaped. It was far less likely that the escaped man was actually a criminal than a person the Montagues had simply pressed into slavery. Though, however small the likelihood, it wasn’t something that could be completely discounted.
Of course, the night and the early morning had been still and quiet. She did wonder, though, about Longtooth perching on the roof of the house like that. He was far too clever to be surveying the area around them for no reason at all. It wasn’t exactly that he was more perceptive and aware of their surroundings than Morning Star, it was more a matter of perspective... mortal versus Immortal.
Daxia glanced at Darian and caught her eye... then lifted a questioning eyebrow as her eyes moved from the Hunter to Longtooth and back again.
That was one question asked; the answer would come when it came.
Wrapping the mantle of proper court manners around herself, Daxia stepped forward a few paces — just slightly farther than an arm’s length from Mikal, ever the mindful soldier. She was neither farm girl nor noble, clearly a Dayalan Verchovai, standing out with her mop of red hair. Courtesy was the only option she had here. She regarded the horsemen with just a touch of interest... enough not to be insulting, yet not enough that her question could be construed as anything beyond honest curiosity.
“We heard no sounds of travel... none that my friends mentioned, at any rate.” She glanced across the barren terrain and shrugged lightly before turning bright blue eyes to the swordsman once again. “But one such as you describe, even if he is a dullard... well, would he not avoid the road altogether?”
Well, perhaps... and perhaps not. The trick would be to encourage the horsemen to seek the escapee in the direction he would least likely go, and to have them believe themselves clever for chasing him in whatever direction that was. While she might be able to accomplish the latter, convincing them to chase their own tails was really more Kadri’s area of expertise. And if Kadri did manage that... well, no doubt her Lady would find it at least somewhat amusing.
Daxia also kept a sharp eye out for Kay, ready to bop the young Initiate over the head yet again if she so much as said a single word.
He stays within the shadow of the barn, observing. Certainly he had seen nothing when he stood watch over Mikal's return the night before.. but he wouldn't have told them if he had. It wasn't any of his business and besides he doesn't like the idea of anyone not having a free choice over where they go. He guesses there are exceptions to that but probably less many than those denied those choices for no good reason.
As he watches the scene evolve, he feels a shiver pass down his back. It might be the chill of the morning, it might be the winds of Fate stirring eddies around them. It feels more like the latter but he attempts to push the feeling to one side and keep his attention on the rabbit meat in the pot. Not long before it is ready.
The Heartwood The Highland Path Highside, West of Silk Creek Ravine After Sunset and then On the Road Marketday, the fourteenth day of Poet
Bekkah, Daxia, Darian, Mikal, Jankin, Dean, Cesare, Kadri ... Morning Star, Longtooth, Kay and Romana
The first response to the queries was the draw of a midwinter's hat down over long sable locks, a duck of a head, at once both subservient and proper and perhaps if one were even sharper, a subservience and propriety that was known to be expected, how a servant behaves before their betters. She busied herself at Cesare's side, as if waiting for instructions. However it was not the the three riders nor the rabbit stew had not stolen Romana's attention - well except for an occasional sniff and a tummy rumble. No; she was looking curiously, eyes of sapphire considering the odd one of their party; Longtooth.
The lead rider's horse whuffled, a one hoof restlessly tapping at the hard packed ground. Resting back in his saddle the quarry guard answered Mikal first.
"Bloke ran out of the Laine's Town quarries end of last month and it's our task to be bringin' him back. And considerin' he left two dead in Juleston when he passed on through, he's wanted back right powerful bad."
At Daxia's side ... or rather from her back, Kay peered around at the horsemen, giving them a fierce look. Her nose twitched, once, and she then just humfed and straightened herself out, brushing the trail dust of her tunics.
A humf is many things, but not a word.
"Look about, lassie ..."
The lead rider turned his attention to Daxia, his tone lecturing, as if speaking down, as if explaining the obvious.
"You get yourself tossed into the quarries up here and your choices end. They are now made for you. Your work or you die. You run, you run west or east. East is right to the motte and bailey; and that's the last place anyone be running to. North and south? Get half a day out and if'n the wolves don't get you first you'll be heading right back to the trail to be findin' food.
"That leaves east and hopin' you can get yourself lost in the poorest ring of Talantal before you get ketched."
Leaning forward again he'd continue.
"He's many things, lassie ... mean, nasty, a law breaker, knowing he has no choices ahead of him, now he's on the run and desperate,
"Normally he'd leave a group this size alone. Too many swords. But only one and a half of you ..."
He'd glance at Mikal and Dean.
"... prolly knows how to actually use that steel, no matter how proud, fancy and fiery you are. Plus you got a gaggle of of lassies ..."
He'd look from Daxia to Kay to Bekkah - all fair and pretty and harmless - to Romana and Kadri - far too small, too easily tossed aside - and even Darian.
Finishing the adjustments on his armour and settling his swords and dagger on his hips and across his back he moves a bit closer to the lead horseman.
He doesn't directly answer the comment about the man fleeing the quarries, although he can't help keep the corner of his lips from twitching upwards and thinking, **Good for him.**
"How did it happen? In Juleston I mean. Was it some trying to bring him in?" He asks, regarding the man's comment about the deaths there.
As he waits for a reply, he adds a soft, "Shhhh", to the man's horse, reaching up to gently stroke it's neck and nose, which also conveniently places him where he can grab the horse's bridle if he needs to.
He almost laughs at the comment regarding the abilities of the womenfolk in this group, instead sharing a grin anmd a wink with Romana, hidden as they were behind the others.
He does note mentally though that this deperate man, if indeed he is one, might also underestimate their strength. They should stay alert on their journies in this area.
This was the first time he'd encountered someone with so vast an under-estimation of women and their capabilities, having been raised by his mentor to revere them as representatives of Her. Certainly he'd always considered them to be equals, albeit ones whose ways he knew little about where they differed from men. He wondered about this desperate man, what he'd done, where he'd gone, and if he too would think little of the women with their group. If so, the worse for him.
Daxia wasn’t entirely certain that the lead horseman was trying to provoke her; perhaps he was simply dismissive of all women. Likely the latter was the case, as he hadn’t seemed to recognize Bekkah for who she was... a priestess of Attera and therefore, technically, the most powerful person in their group. Well, at least as long as they were on this side of the Black Mountains and Snowgate Pass she was. Dazi thought back to her days in Dawnview, being harassed by Initiates who spent more time giggling over boys than their lessons or their sword work, and changed tack.
She smiled up at the man, bright and charming and cheerful. “Your thoughtfulness in explaining this land says much about you, good sir. I had no idea how large and yet so closed in it was!” She looked wide-eye around them. “Goodness, who would have thought it? And how dreadfully terrible it would be to come upon such a desperate man as this escapee!”
Indeed. If the man was desperate enough to attack their group, it would be dreadfully terrible for him. If he truly was a criminal... well, that was one thing, of course. But if he was merely an unfortunate individual such as Mikal’s father and uncle had been, a person dragged off to the quarries for no other reason than the Montagues were bullies? Ah, now there was a different matter altogether.
“Oh, and as for all our shiny weapons and such frippery...” Daxia turned to Kay and grinned — it might even have appeared to be a great smile of fondness, too, to most — before she rubbed the top of the youngster’s head. “...my little Sister here is coming along well in her lessons.” The redhead looked back at the horseman and giggled.
Dear Dayala, the insane things I do in Your service!
“I am only good enough to have caught the attention of an Immortal.” She shrugged. “Well, perhaps slightly better than only good enough, for I seem to have caught the attention of the most Magnificent of the Immortals.” Smiling brightly again, she asked, “Laine’s Town? Oh, that wouldn’t be where the famous Miller MacLaine lives, would it be? Do you think apples could be found there this time of year? Goodness, the Magnificent Immortal one does love his apples!”
I do draw the line at batting my eyelashes, my Lady. I’m afraid that’s just not something I can manage without collapsing with laughter.
Even from inside the barn Cesare can detect the sarcasm in Daxia's voice, veiled as it is in sweetness and charm. He pauses in stirring the pot, hoping that the guy is as stupid as he sounds and taken in with Daxia's pretty face, rather than listening to her words, otherwise trouble may be brewing.
<oocly notes we are still waiting on some players. The post is mostly written, answering the previous questions, ready to be edited for any other comments or additional questions ... and i'll wait till mid-week before putting it up>
The Heartwood The Highland Path Highside, West of Silk Creek Ravine After Sunset and then On the Road Marketday, the fourteenth day of Poet
Bekkah, Daxia, Darian, Mikal, Jankin, Dean, Cesare, Kadri ... Morning Star, Longtooth, Kay and Romana
"Gawk!"
Which wasn't really a word either; Kay squawked as she tried and failed to duck her head away from her mentor's rustling, giving her a sidelongs look from beneath tousled bangs. Her nose would wrinkle as her lips tightly sealed and she kicked a stray rock away, hard. The lead rider from Montague simply watched with a mote of amusement before speaking.
"Well then, I guess what they say about taste is and its accountin' is right powerful true ..."
The quarry guard almost snorts his answer to daxia, as he slowly turns his horse's head away from Mikal's reach.
"Laddie, I woulda thought someone like you would know that reachin' for a strange horse is a good way to be gettin' yourself bitten."
Resettling his mount the rider would then return his hands to the top of his saddle's horn.
"And as for the criminal, well, for some reason he dinnae like the work clothes he had been given. So he took some from one of the crafters in town; now we suspect that the candewright wasn't quite agreeable with being stolen from. So he ended up dead. His wife? Best we can figure that she was killed just for spite.
"He also took some food, some copper, a hatchet, mebbe a knife or two; all signs say he was headin' this-a-way."
Turning his attention back to Daxia he returned to her question.
"MacLaine? Famous? Mayhaps in his on mind and for havin' the only licensed mill between here and Dag's old Keep. But aye, that's where Rolf lives; he's headman of the village, on account of his license.
"Apples? Perhaps. There's some remnant orchards near the shores of the tarn. But they's small and spindly looking and bloody hard." He'd nod towards the gravesite and the poorly transplanted wildflowers.
"Nuthin' survives here thats pretty. No one to take care of such. Here only the strong survive."
Keeping out of sight seems the best move, bit like keeping an ace up your sleeve except that he knows he is not an ace. Maybe a knave? The thought amuses him.
He smiles at Romana, trusting that she too, even though for other reasons, wants to keep her head down also.
As as been her custom, she merely watches with a keen eye, noting both the actions of the snarkhound and those who ride up. Her bow is not put away but neither is it a hair's breadth from ready. With reason, a reason only shared with Mikal, she is wary of these. She understands her furry companion's stance but will wait until these have moved on before taking the matter up with him.
As for the tale of the escapee, she does not begrudge the man his flight. Better to die free than live a slave. If what they speak of the one is true, her Lord would approve of him.
He shrugs when the man yanks the horses head away. "True enough for a warhorse." He murmurs, leaving unsaid the comment that he doubts this man merits a war-trained mount. He moves from the horses head, to it's side, placing himself even with the horse's flank, near where the man sits in his saddle.
"Well, you've delivered your warning, and as my friends have said, we've seen no one matching that description. We'll keep our eyes open. Was there something else?"
The redhead shrugged philosophically. “True enough, so says the saying regarding taste and such, what with the world being such a huge and oftentimes perplexing place.” Daxia nodded in a friendly way, as she would have if she’d been conversing with... oh, say one of Dandy’s men of the Wild Horde. The horseman’s story of the escaped man didn’t ring true for her, though. Oh, no doubt he likely stole some clothing. That seemed to sit well enough. And perhaps... just perhaps... he even accidentally killed another man over the clothing he took. But killing the candlewright’s wife for spite? No, that had an echo of such falsehood that Dazi nearly lost her pleasant smile. Were things so different out here in the lands held by the Montagues that people accepted the idea that things were done simply for spite? It was something she’d have to puzzle through later, perhaps talk with Mikal about it... but in her experience, everyone had a reason for what they did. From the dishonest merchants of Cragside to the Jvrillians of the Dark Mark to the members of the Thing of Bordertown and even the hapless barkeep at Highside Heather... people did things for reasons. The reasons might not be as clear as fine glass, but spite didn’t seem to be a reason for anything. Perhaps it was just his way of saying nobody knows why she was killed and we may never know?
Ah, but on with the show!
“But surely if I’ve heard of him...” She rested one hand on her hip and tapped her chin with the forefinger of her other hand. “...though after all these years I couldn’t rightly say where I heard of him, or even who told me his tale, but I do recall the bit about having a fine mill and it being a rare one.”
All of this, of course, was lies heaped upon more lies, for she did recall a tale Gilly had told... a tale she said she’d heard from Poppy.
“But the part of the story I recall most — so I must have been quite young and still overly impressionable about such things — was that the miller had the most beautiful wife in all the land, with hair red like mine except of course so much more beautiful than my mop. And that — this part was whispered, you understand, because... well, such things are whispered in the Black Mountains, you know — she was even more beautiful than the Khorall beyond the Snowgate Pass.” Daxia nodded knowingly to the horseman. “You’d see why such a thing would be whispered even in Kierkegaard lands hard against the Rock.” Again, she shrugged. “Oh, I’m sure it was just a fanciful tale and an exaggeration worthy of the best minstrels! Why, for all I know, the Miller MacLaine has a plain wife with plain hair, and half a dozen perfectly plain children.”
She looked around... ostensibly toward the grave site, but keen eyes noting the clear absence of Cesare and Romana in the barn’s door way and the way Longtooth cleverly blended with the pitch of the house’s roof... then gave the horseman a single dip of her head in acknowledgment. Every bit of her story of the miller’s wife was fabrication, but a well reasoned one based on what she knew of her Khorall’s family and what she and the group had discovered in the grove when they rescued Romana.
“Yes, I can see where such a fanciful tale would be fanciful.” Daxia shook her head sadly. “If he knows such a tale was spread, even long ago, that would certainly give Miller MacLaine reasons in his own mind to believe himself famous, don’t you think?”
When Mikal very obviously made it clear the men were not exactly welcome, Daxia simply stood very much as she’d seen other Initiates doing during the Festivals... hands clasped behind their backs, watching the festivities with expectation. Dazi had always thought that was an impractical pose, which is why her hands were very definitely not clasped. It was certainly not as convenient for drawing weapons as having hands loosely held in front... or, even better, hands already on her weapons. But she was absolutely not going to antagonize the horsemen.
If anyone was going to do that, it was Mikal’s right and his decision.
The Heartwood The Highland Path Highside, West of Silk Creek Ravine After Sunset and then On the Road Attaday, the eighth day of Poet
Bekkah, Daxia, Darian, Mikal, Jankin, Dean, Cesare, Kadri ... Morning Star, Longtooth, Kay and Romana
"Its just a crusader lassie. Most common kind of horse this hear abouts."
As the first rider turned away, so did his two companions, or at least they began too. He paused, first as Longtooth slowly loped from the rooftop to end next to Darian. The two looked at each other, the snarkhound shaking his head, ending with one notched ear perked upwards. The second reason, however, was to answer the elder Dayallan's question.
"Yah mean Inno?"
The man just shook his head, looking down a bit.
"Pretty lass, and nice enough, I guess. We's quarry folk and he's town folk, so our paths didn't cross much. Heard she had the patience of a boulder, the way she let Rolf boss her around, keep her close to home and smack her when she got out of line.
"Until a while ago; a year, maybe more?
"The day after her daughter ran off, Rolf got himself called up to the Keep. When he came down he was powerful angry and blamed whatever happened between him and the Warlord was all his wife's fault. Now the way I heard it, he went to strike her and she, like she had been savin' up her backbone for years and all, came after him with a carvin' knife.
"Rolf's whatcha call a widower now. But before she got beat down she made bloody sure he'd be rememberin' her every time he looked at his reflection."
"Powerful waste. If'n yah ask me."
He'd then continue, urging his horse a few steps down the trail towards Talental, offerin' a final nod to Mikal.
"Nay, that be it. Figured there's worse things in the world than being a mite neighborly. Fair travels."
Unless questioned more, the three sheriffs would then continue upon their way.
He grunts non-committedly. **Or perhaps the escapee came upon the man attacking his wife and intervened to save her, but was too late? It could be anything. No way to tell.** However he admits to himself that his personal prejudices will automatically side with any who oppose those of the Quarries.
He watches the men ride off until he is sure they are gone, then he turns to the others. "So. Where to?"
Daxia watched the horsemen ride off, wondering if she had really expected any other conclusion to her quest. She couldn’t understand why Innocence had remained as mild — or at least patient — as she had for all these years, though...
She sighed to herself. Allaines played games that spanned generations. Innocence had been the Khorall of Snowgate Keep, not some naive orphaned farm girl who grew up in a Temple. Daxia wasn’t a mother and would never be, but she tried to understand how a person could subsume their very self for the sake of their child. She’d heard of such things... it’s possible she’d even seen the evidence of it without knowing it. A mother’s love was rumored to be stronger than even ironsilver.
But what she now knew about Khorall Innocence’s fate wasn’t something she could share with Khorall Linnell, or even Kisa... that somewhere out there, with Poppy Gwynn if rumors were true, a niece and cousin was training to be a Dayalan. And yet...
And yet, how could she hide the truth from Kisa? If anyone could be trusted to safely hold that information... to say only what would not lead to catastrophic repercussions, it was Kisa. How could she, and how could she not, share such a personal and emotional thing with her friend? Kisa had certainly been young when Innocence disappeared, but she’d have been old enough to remember her aunt. Dazi had memories — soft and kind, and fading more with each passing season, true — of her father, of her mother. Hadn’t Innocence disappeared some time after she and Bekkah had arrived at the Dawnview Temple? Dazi couldn’t possibly predict how Kisa would react to the reality of a heretofore unknown cousin. It was something she could mull over for quite a long time, though... deciding what, if anything, to say to Kisa. It could be years before she got back to Dawnview.
And knowing Kisa... well, knowing Kisa, she may already have seen the tiles lined up to form the sort of grand pattern Dazi would never see until the last tile fell.
She found that she’d wandered over to Morning Star, thoroughly distracted. Why did she think an Immortal would give her any comfort in this all too human turmoil? He was an Immortal... and probably quite rightly egocentric. The fact that she was his rider might give him some measure of concern for her well-being, but how could he begin to understand such mundane human things as despair and doubt? Her life, her fears, her worries... all of it was nothing more than a speck of dust floating in the air for no more than the blink of an eye. And yet... and yet, resting her head against his very solid, very real, very NOW neck did bring her a small measure of comfort. He was a constant now in her life... very much the opposite of what she was in his life. Dayalans are chosen and Dayalans die... and unless the horrific happens, Unicorns will continue on until She tires of Time, and likely even beyond.
The truth was...
What was the truth, anyway? That she was weary of saving the world and the people in it? No, that wasn’t quite it, though weary she most assuredly was. Perhaps it was the traveling. Perhaps it was the lack of solitude. She’d been so accustomed to solitude in Dawnview. Since leaving home last Yrick, she’d had only moments of solitude snatched at odd times when she could find them. She didn’t fault her companions for that. She was grateful for their company, and was frankly astonished that they continued to follow her around... especially on this particular quest. Although having Bekkah with her... yes, that sometimes made the traveling, the lack of roots, the sense of jumping from one danger to another all seem less onerous.
But then, Bekkah had always seemed to make everything better. She’d had that gift long before she left for Lilia’s Castle to begin her studies with Lady Catherine.
And of course, with Morning Star beside her, solitude might be something she may never see again.
Still, the trip this far down the road into Montague lands had been necessary, at least for her. It had given Mikal the opportunity for closure, as well... if there could be such a thing. And to have his friends around him when doing something so deeply personal, something that was no doubt difficult, seemed appropriate.
And what was next? Daxia hadn’t quite grasped the enormity of what it meant to be a Wild Dayalan, though the fact that she’d likely spend very little time in Dawnview as the years cycled from Spring to Dry to Harvest to Storm time after time... well, it was starting to sink in. That knowledge wasn’t helping her.
If, as Gilly had said, the Unicorns keep us honest, Dazi thought, and part of that honesty is to keep going when all we want to do is give up... how do they manage that? How do they manage to keep us honest enough to keep going when doubt and despair fill our hearts and minds and souls? I suppose I’ll find out, won’t I?
She sighed and looked over at Mikal, then shrugged. “Back to Talantal, I suppose. I learned what I needed to learn.” Dazi looked down the road they’d so recently traveled. “Kadri’s betrothed asked if the kind Lady of Attera — his words, Bekkah — would visit his sickly brother and, in a rather round about way, asked if we’d rescue said brother. I suppose we could figure out how we’re going to pull that off.” She shrugged again. “I suspect the closer to Midsummer Council session Brother receives his visit, the easier the visit will go.”
Daxia looked at Dean and Bekkah. “Of all of us, you two will stand out the least in Talantal.” Grinning at Dean, she added, “Just as they’ll see only my red hair, sword and unicorn, all anyone will see is your fine surcoat marking you as a follower of Rames. Of course you’d belong in the greatest Imperial city this side of Trundle-on-the-Hill.” She looked around at the rest of her companions, gesturing to each in turn... nodding toward the barn where Cesare and Romana still waited. “Jvillians and Rhoni would not be remarkable, at least in the outer rings of the city, I would guess. Kay and I can join the Allaine delegation when it arrives.” She closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head. “If it arrives, if Khorall Linnell doesn’t send Dandy alone in her stead again.” She just sighed. Kisa would talk her mother out of doing that two years in a row... wouldn’t she? “A good Hunter,” she said, nodding to Darian and Longtooth, “would be appreciated, I’d think. Kadri...” This time she rolled her eyes and smiled. “You’re a chameleon, Kadri. It wouldn’t surprise me if you became fast friends with Mikal’s horse’s namesake.”
Only when she looked back at the barn where Romana peeked out and at Jankin who was so quiet one could almost forget his presence that she frowned slightly. “About you and Romana, though,” she said to him, “I worry more. You’ve both proved yourselves to be capable and resourceful, and yet...” The Dayalan simply pressed her lips together tightly for a moment. “I hope you are not offended that I am concerned for your welfare.”
"My only thought is ... Is it better to be Kadri djinn Khayriyah al'Terilanquel of Amber Born, or Kadri djinn Lisica al'Izgon? To hide by hiding or to hide by being obvious in not hiding?"
The Heartwood The Highland Path Highside, West of Silk Creek Ravine On the Road past Brockman's Holdfast Morning, Marketday, the fourteenth day of Poet
Bekkah, Daxia, Darian, Mikal, Jankin, Dean, Cesare, Kadri ... Morning Star, Longtooth, Kay and Romana
The news of breakfast being finished brings two bright responses. One, from the three hundred year old Dayalan ...
"Hoi ... watching you play doublebluffs with those fellows makes a body hungry."
The other ...
"Pancakes!"
"Pancakes?"
"Pancakes!"
"Listen, blue-eyes, I keep telling you, those ain't pancakes! Pancakes are round and thin and made by your Ma on cold winter morning, covered in syrup tapped by maple trees. Do you see any maple trees here? Do you even know what a maple tree looks like?
Kay look anout, pointing to the lonely almost bare tree.
"That's an oak and waaay over there are some very tired pine trees.
"You know for someone supposedly so smart I just don't ... no no no stop that ... you'll burn yourself, here ... here ... wooden plate, wooden plate ..."
To which, of course, Romana had but one answer,
"Pancakes!"
"GAAAAWK!"
Which was still not a word.
Halfway through their rhoni cooked breakfast Romana lifted her head, brushing away dark black locks. She straightened herself, set her wooden plate in her lap and smiled.
"Talentatalentalentals your biggest home, yes-yes?"
The tall woman spared a look towards the rising sun, shading her brow with her hand against Her light.
"Romanas are Romanas are Romanas are big town Romanas. Thousand Towers an all its people, all in such small small place. Romanas know what big town folks see, what don'ts, slipped through Trundles-On-the-Hills ahead of Fathers Hunters, found shadows, found lights, found Alley.
"Folks see what folks wants see. Pretty girl. Stupid girl. Girl with black hair.
"Funnies. Funnies not ha ha funnie.
"All folk like that. Poor, rich, good, mean ... even Princes.
"See what wants to see.
"Romanas shows what folks want see and what Romanas wants folks see."
She'd then point to Kadri, eyes bright.
"Understands, yesyes? Kadridjinnniskhayriyahhahahaha al Terilanquels ... Kadridjinnnislililisica al' Izgon ... Kadridjinnniskhayriyahhahahahaterilanquelslililisica al Korie ... many names to chose, yesyes?"
Romana continued, her words now much quieter.
"Big towns, they just like Forests. No green, no brown, just stone and folks. The city has hunters, has prey. Forests easy, hunt to eat, hunt to live. Trundles, Kh'lhy'ra, Talantals, hunting much more dangerous. Hunt for coin, hunts for power, hunts for ... fun."
Finally, Romana looked back down to her plate, her smile returning with a good helping of Cesare's repast.
"Besides. Romanas gots hats."
"Cor ..."
Kay shook her head, speaking up again.
"What, you been saving up all those words just for now?"
The brunette turned, and just like Mikal, added a question to her brand new mentor.
"She means 'thank you'. You need to listen to the meaning, not the words, and it is as clear as day."
Another pause.
"As for what she is saying now ... that is easy enough."
She looks over to Romanas, and looks her right back in the eyes, then speaks with an even tone, allowing the full lilt of her native accent to slip through.
"Talantal is indeed our biggest city. You know big towns. Know how to vanish in them, know what the people there are looking at, and for. You slipped into Trundle on the Hills ahead of your father's men, found the shadows and the lights, and back alleyways. You showed people what they wanted to see and were expecting to see. A pretty girl, a stupid girl with black hair. If you show people what they want and expect to see they won't look for much of anything else - and that true whether that person is rich or poor, wicked or good - or even a princess. Something I know very well."
She took a swig from a waterskin.
"Yes, a city is much like the wild in its own way. Trees of stone and rivers of rock, people are both hunters and prey. But - yes, people hunt for other reasons than just for survival. They are much more complicated, for all the good and bad that brings."
"We are all many different people. Who we are here."
She taps her chest.
"And what mask we wear to the world. You wear the face you must wear to get through the next year, the next day - and when that face no longer works - another one must come in its place. Yet - in the end, we still are who we are - whatever face you might present to the world."
She looks over to Cesare.
"Quite good, as usual. You need to teach me to cook so it tastes good in addition to filling me sometime. I can do one, am not too good at the other."
She looks to Daxia.
"Yes ... What DID you learn?"
Last edited by Art in the Blood; Mon 23/12/1304:06 UTC.
By now Cesare is in his usual place beside Darian, close so that no light shines between them, eating from his bowl and feeding Longtooth the odd morsel. This arrangement is now longstanding and comfortable and might always have been.
He chuckles at the exchange between Kay and Romana, winking at the latter in approval. Care needs to be taken in cities but that can be done. Kay might need Kadri's explanation.. maybe Jankin too.. but the rest of them are fairly used to her manner of speaking by now.
He looks over to Kadri.
"My Ma & my aunt taught me mostly. It is just knowing the flavours of the plants, which to use and how much. I carry a few and gather others along the way. Be happy to show you.. maybe in exchange for some riding lessons."
His grins amiably at his suggestion, knowing that there is some cheek there as the two are not exactly equitable.. but he follows the maxim 'you don't ask, you don't get'.
Then glancing at Mikal, he adds.
"And I still need to gain the use of a forge. Maybe we can find one in the city?"
He reminds the warrior that he hasn't forgotten his debt for the crossbow training Mikal has been giving him. He has half an ear in Daxia direction wondering what the answer to their question might be.
She raised an eyebrow at Mikal, and smiled sadly. “You certainly can’t have forgotten the grove along the Brementown Road where we rescued Romana and met Dean?” Dazi asked as they walked back to the barn. “We found the remains of the marriage caravan of Innocence Allaine and Danton Kierkegaard, but not a shred of evidence that Innocence was there... although evidence of Lord Danton, his men, Jvrillian mercenaries, and a single Montague was plentiful.
“From that, from stories, from rumors... I added two plus one plus two and came up with a handful. The horseman verified all the rumors I’d heard about Miller MacLain having a daughter who’d run off with Verchovai Poppy — Richter Gwynn — and confirmed my own theories that the mother of that daughter was my Khorall’s missing, and now sadly deceased, sister.”
She was silent then, tending to Morning Star before getting her own breakfast. She smiled at Romana’s explanation, certainly more used to Romana being loquacious than Kay was. From her seat beside Bekkah, she snickered at Kay’s reaction.
She had to wait on Kadri, though, to answer Kay’s question. While it was likely Kay didn’t understand Romana as well as the rest of them had come to understand her... Kay hadn’t actually asked what Romana said, she had merely remarked on Romana’s sudden outpouring of words.
“Princes, Kadri, not princess,” she said. “Even the princes of Kh’Lhy’ra see what they want to see.”
Then Daxia sighed. “I explained that the Bankerpool Empire arrived with their Imperial Court to bring order to the land after the last war with the East, ya, Kay? My sister serves Attera, Dean serves Rames... just as we serve Dayala. And that the rulers of the various lands became the Noble Families of the Little Kingdoms... Allaine, Corliss, Kierkegaard, Konstantine, Halahmbrah, Korie, Brockman, Montague, and Larsens. Yrick is long gone, though I suppose those of the Bankerpool Empire are likely his descendants come back from their voyage across the Opal Sea. As far as I know, Tashka of Darkdown was the last of the folks from Konstantine’s lands, though there may still be people living there.” Daxia shrugged. “Halahmbrah rules Amber now, not Terilanquel. As you saw, unfortunately, Brockman is all but dead... though Montague is something of a bastard child.”
She didn’t doubt, however, that Montague stood in the place of the Brockman Kay remembered.
“Each Midsummer, the Noble Families gather for a Council, which has been hosted by the Kories for... well, for all of my life. Dayalans are the House Guard of the Allaine Family.”
She paused to finish her food before concluding, “So the Allaine Family will send their representative to the Council — it’s usually Khorall Linnell, though I heard once Khorall Sasha went in her stead. And last year, of course, she sent a single Verchovai and a string of empty horses. Being Dayalans, we would not be out of place among the other Dayalans of the Allaine House Guard.
“Assuming, of course, the delegation consists of more than just Verchovai Dandy again.”
The Heartwood The Highland Path Highside, West of Silk Creek Ravine On the Road past Brockman's Holdfast Morning, Marketday, the fourteenth day of Poet
Bekkah, Daxia, Darian, Mikal, Jankin, Dean, Cesare, Kadri ... Morning Star, Longtooth, Kay and Romana
... the conversation at breakfast continues ...
"I know that!"
Sitting next to Romana, her legs crossed and her own breakfast in her lap. She picked at it with dagger and fingers, definitely well versed in backwood farm manners.
"But that's not the point ..."
She turns, her dark eyes riveting the other young woman's.
"Blue-Eyes, listen up good. You say that when you ain't asking for breakfast and you'll get funny looks from every one, and thats the exact opposite of vanishing, or so I've been told. Worse, if a kindlet hears it and thinks its funny, they'll go repeating it, ja? And then their Ma and Va will ask who said that, and they'll say the silly stranger with long black hair, and then they'll ask questions, and the folks they ask questions of will ask questions, and then the next thing you know some big bloke will be lookin' down at you and be asking you questions ... like just who are you anyways. And when you can't answer with a farmgirl from Darkdown's manors they'll haul you off, take your hat, and then they end up throwing you in a gaol for having pointed ears, and then, then, Her Ladyship here ..."
Kay nodded to Daxia,
" ... will take me by the scruff of the neck and shake the life out of me, asking me why I didn't keep you safe! And then I'll be dead and up in the sky and all I will be able to do is watch while you reach for the hot frying pan and your fingers will get all burned.
"Ja?
"Ja!"
The blue eyed easterner just blinked. She listened. She tilted her head.
"Ohs. Romanas understands."
"What does Blue-eyes understand?"
"Romanas understands alls, yesyesyes."
"Say it."
There was a long pause and then a very soft, perfectly accented,
"Thank you."
Kay smiled and sitting back she looked very satisfied. The dark haired Dayalan answered, of course, with a very proper return.
"Thank you."
"Wall trim."
"GAAAAAAAWK!"
Romana ducked her head, looking away, trying to hide a small, princessly, aristocratically mischievous grin. Without looking up, however, the eastern lass peeked past her bangs back to Daxia.
"Never same twice."
She shook her head.
"At big courts, if one pokes, only pokes once, yes yes yes? Pokes twice no longer ... auditory ... new day like ... a day's quiet shush ... no longer ... no longers ... audacious. Then just bads, rudes, poor taste, where once saw strong slap becomes all pettys.
"After pokes ... best play ... play strong.
"They will be prepared, yesyesyes? Will need to poke backs, save faces, yes yes yes? So must be strong enough, so pokes basks? Come. Dares. Now. Try.
He nods when Daxia mentions the glade and what they found there, but when she finishes the rest of it he replies with a negative shake of his head. "You seem to assume I understand what is behind what you speak of, and more so that I am familiar with court practices. I do not, and am not. Before I met you I had never heard of a Dayallan, nor could I conceive of a female who knew how to use weapons, less one that was good at it. I knew a plow, planting and harvesting, and later horses and swords. Things I could touch. Things that were real."
"The Verchovai's, Noble Councils, Dawnview Vale, in fact most of what you just said are things unknown, or perhaps mentioned once in a lifetime as a fanciful tale of something imagined and not real, far, far, away. So I accept that you found answers to the questions you pursued, but I have no understanding of why they were important, nor do I comprehend what we expect to be doing in Grand Talantal or even why we needs go there."
"In Cragside we saved an orphan girl who was being taken advantage of. In Bordertown we helped fight off an invasion of Chaos coming from the woods and broke a demonic curse. Those were things I understood."
He nods at what Kay just said to Romana. "But if you do not wish me to 'muck things up' with a misplaced question or misunderstood plan, I'd truly appreciate if it was explained to me in terms a poor farmer's son can understand what we are going to be doing in Talantal and why we are going there?"
Dazi did her best to maintain at least a somewhat serious expression during Kay’s exchange with Romana, but a rather unladylike snort escaped when Romana replied with her version of you’re welcome.
She certainly understood what Romana was saying... about Dawnview, the Allaines, Talantal, the Kories. Don’t play the same trick on someone twice in a row... they’d be expecting that.
But what was Dawnview’s strongest card? Just what would Talantal not expect?
“Hmm... that’s a good question, Romana...”
The Dayalan turned to Mikal and shook her head. “None of what I searched for has any bearing on why we’re going to Talantal. You’ve said more than a handful of times,” she said with a chuckle, “that you hate politics.
“Talantal is all about politics.” She sighs. “First, imagine the grandest Midsummer Festival you’ve ever seen, and then try to imagine a fullhand of that. That’s before you even add the politics of the Nobles’ Council.
“And Imperial politics.”
She rubbed her temples. “Dear Lady, it gives me a headache. The short story is that Bekkah is the most powerful person in our group... Imperials trump Nobles, Bekkah is a Priestess of the Imperial Court. She could probably just stroll into the Fifth Ring of Talantal because priestesses of Attera are that powerful in the Imperial Court.”
Then she nodded to Romana. “Our extremely clever black-haired, hat-wearing friend would probably understand who’s who and what’s what in less time than it took Cesare to make breakfast. I think saying that a thousand princes of Kh’Lhy’ra would create more political drama than the Noble Families might be a bit of an understatement.
“For you ordinary farm lads...” She glanced at Dean with a quick smile. “That includes you, too, Dean, despite your ever so Squirely disposition...
“It’s probably enough to know where the lines of friendship are drawn among the Noble Families. Consider that Allaine stands on one side and Korie on the other; these are the two most powerful Families on the mainland. Corliss, Kierkegaard and Amber stand with Allaine. Montague stands — nominally — with Korie. Brockman, if any still exist, will be cowed into standing with Korie, though as far away as possible, I would guess. Larsen of Talesan’s Village stands apart... which I suspect is both a measure of his renown kindness and a shrewdness he keeps well hidden.
“Kay here is — like Dandy and Camelia — a Koromov, which is an Imperial Family... albeit a disenfranchised one. She’s also...” Daxia turns to scrutinize her young charge. “...shield-bearer for the Captain of the Allaine House Guard, da? That’s who Lily Allaine was, da? Except now she stands at my side...”
The redhead turned to Romana again. “...which comes back around to the strongest card Dawnview has to play...
“The strange, bookish, unpredictable Heir of Allaine...
“Whose best friend happens to be the newest of the world’s Dayalan Verchovai...
“Who is mentoring a Koromov...
“Has friends from both Amber and Kh’Lhy’ra...
“And whose sister is a powerful Atteran Priestess.”
She blinked, blue eyes looking into blue eyes.
“Maybe Talantal won’t expect all that, da?”
Then Dazi patted Bekkah’s knee. “If the powerful Atteran Priestess would do a great favor for her little sister the Dayalan Verchovai... Now, I know you don’t need protection and you didn’t ask for protection, but if you would do me the favor of allowing Squire Dean to protect you while we’re in Talantal, it would ease my mind greatly. I don’t worry for your safety, Bekkah, but Dean’s. If he is following his Knight’s orders to protect you, no one will be able to pry him from that duty. He will not unwittingly be used to subvert the proper goings on in Talantal... and by ‘proper’, I mean keeping everyone in our party safe. As well as Kisa... which is the Dayalans’ job.
“I don’t intend any insult by this, Dean,” she said to him. “I have trusted you with my life, but it’s my understanding that another Knight might approach you to request your assistance in a task if you are not already engaged in a duty you swore your Knight and your Lord Rames to fulfill, da? I also get the impression that you and Mikal have in common your dislike of politics.”
Finally, she turned back to Mikal. “Feel free to pelt me with questions...” She looked around the barn at the others. “All of you. If I have the answers, I won’t be miserly in sharing them.”
Dazi paused a moment. “Oh! The reason we’re going to Talantal in the first place! Yes...
“Korie’s youngest son, Dominic... whom we know from Bordertown as the young scamp who publicly professed his love for Kadri... asked that Bekkah visit with the middle Korie son, Trey, who is sickly, and has been all his life. Perhaps the Lady’s kindness will bring some measure of health to the lad and perhaps not. But Dominic fears for Trey’s general health and well-being — and his life, I think — and would like us to sneak him out of the Fifth Ring of Talantal and away from his not particularly loving father, and his elder brother and new wife who may or may not be — but likely are — plotting to have him enjoy a dance with Krysta sooner rather than later.”
She looked at her far more politically savvy friend and shook her head. “That sounds just as crazy when I say it out loud as it sounds rolling around in my head. But I have a feeling that Romanaska understands getting out of guarded palaces better than anyone, yesyesyes? Yesyesyes!”
The Heartwood The Highland Path Highside, West of Silk Creek Ravine On the Road past Brockman's Holdfast Morning, Marketday, the fourteenth day of Poet
Bekkah, Daxia, Darian, Mikal, Jankin, Dean, Cesare, Kadri ... Morning Star, Longtooth, Kay and Romana
... the conversation at breakfast continues ...
Reaching past and over past Kay - which got a bump and a startle from the young Dayalan - Romana poked Kadri.
"Nonono ... nows for speakings, not for all mysteriousness!"
As she leaned back, a potato was stolen, deftly, from Kay's plate.
"Hey!"
With wide, soft, innocent and warm blue eyes Romana looked back and offered a piece of carrot in return.
"I was merely going to say that I am also at least reasonably as acquainted with getting in and out of places unseen. And I suspect I could make an at least better than average partner in crime for that. And I also still wonder which Kadri should make a show here."
He makes a face as if he just ate something sour. "As you say, I dislike politics intensely. So, enter Talantal, find Korie's youngest, attempt to heal him, and spirit him way from the heart of his family stronghold. Seems simple enough." He smiles slightly.
"You did not mention where we might be spiriting him away to?"
He pauses, then asks. "Would you prefer that I accompany Bekkah as a hired guard to supplement Squire Dean, or act the part of the lone Jvrillian and pretend I do not know you, or something else?"
While Romana negotiated a trade with Kay for the piece of carrot, Daxia reached across Bekkah and snagged another potato from Kay’s plate. She popped it into her mouth with a grin, then turned her gaze to Kadri. The Dayalan studied the Amberite for the time it took her to thoroughly chew and then swallow the potato.
“Use the same question Romana asked me: What’s the strongest card you have to play, the one the Kories would least expect?
“Is it Kadri, the simple Amber girl traveling to see the wonders of the world?
“Is it Her Highness Kadri, the daughter of the great Amber House of Terilanqel?
“Or is it Lady Kadri, the new daughter of Korie and wife of Lord Dominic?”
Dazi shrugs. “I have a guess about which Kadri would be least expected in Talantal, and I suspect it’s the same Kadri who would amuse your Lady the most.” She winks at Kadri before turning to Mikal again.
“Middle son, but yes... it does sound simple, doesn’t it? Dominic didn’t exactly specify a place where he thought Trey would be safe, but I thought to continue west toward Talesan’s Village. From there, we might find a relatively safe path into the Dirkwood to assist Jankin in his quest. The seashore might be a restful place for a lad who has been sickly all his life, da?”
Then she shook her head. “Oh, no. A Lady of Attera wouldn’t likely have a need to hire a Jvrillian... certainly not when a Squire of Rames is guarding her with his life. Not that she needs protection, of course.
“On the other hand, Lady Kadri would not only have her own personal bodyguard, but doubtlessly an entire retinue of people with her.
“After all, she’s married to the youngest son of the most powerful family this side of the Black Mountains. The more people who travel with her, the more important she appears.”
Daxia rolled her head to the side to look at Kadri again. “Of course, if you don’t care for the idea of being a Kori, the same would probably still be true... or mostly true... for a Terilanquel.”
He nods at the information, grinning slightly as the options for Kadri were explored.
"From the way our friend Kadri interacted with Dominic when last we were together, perhaps it is Dominic who would need my services as guard? For protection from Lady Kadri's sharp pointy things?"
Dazi chuckled. “Perhaps, though I suspect Dom Dominie is quite capable of defending himself. On the other hand...” She shrugged as she smiled more broadly. “The two of them play a game that’s even more convoluted that the one Kisa plays. Who’s to say if getting jabbed by Lady Kadri’s sharp pointy things might not be part of Lord Dominic’s plan?
“Well, assuming he returns home and doesn’t...” She stopped, remembering a few random comments Dommie had made, and then groaned. “Oh, dear Lady, I wouldn’t put it past him to be traveling incognito with the Allaine party trying to charm the strange, bookish and unusual Heir of Allaine. Lord Dominic Korie certainly couldn’t be seen in Allaine company, but the ordinary lad named Dommie could.”
Daxia sighed and shrugged again. “Ah, well... I’ve already written to Kisa about him; she knows my thoughts concerning the lad.
“Though if you do encounter your beloved husband in his little village,” she said, looking at Kadri with a more serious expression, “it would be far more beneficial to your health and his to play a game of cooperation. From what he said, his brother the Heir is no more interested in his continued health or his longevity than he is concerned about their brother Trey’s health and longevity. And the Heir’s wife...”
She shook her head, rolled her eyes.
“Perhaps having only one couple at one another’s throats in the very small village of his is sufficient. The game being played between the Korie Heir and the daughter of Montague is a dangerous one. That is the place where your considerable skills might best come into play, my friend... hiding in plain sight, creating diversions by doing nothing, playing our game by appearing to play no game at all.
“So if you were to be the grand Lady Kadri, what roles could you create for those here who are not Imperials or would not be part of the Allaine House Guard? Clearly, Mikal is an excellent choice for your Ladyship’s personal bodyguard... but what of Cesare, Darian and Jankin? Cesare and Darian are simply who they are... a fascinating Rhoni and a talented Hunter. But Jankin...”
She turned her blue eyes to the older man. “You, too, have a talent for hiding in plain sight. Where would you hide in all of this? You would seem out of place among the Allaines, despite the fact that Dayalans are most likely to accept you for who you are. It’s best, though, to keep your true self hidden, da? Would a clever woodcarver have attached himself to the kindest of all Ladies of Attera?” Dazi’s eyes twinkled with... well, it was hard to know if it was merriment or mischief. “Or would a clever woodcarver have found himself in the entourage of the eccentric yet regal Lady Kadri?”
Then Dazi smiled at Romana. “And where does Romana see her best place in this game, eh?”
The Heartwood The Highland Path Highside, West of Silk Creek Ravine On the Road past Brockman's Holdfast Morning, Marketday, the fourteenth day of Poet
Bekkah, Daxia, Darian, Mikal, Jankin, Dean, Cesare, Kadri ... Morning Star, Longtooth, Kay and Romana
... the conversation at breakfast continues ...
" .... gaaawk ..."
The younger Dayalan simply narrowed her eyes.
"Aw ... come on now your Ladyship. That just ain't ... ain't ..."
Kay's frustration turns into a mote of confusion, however, as with a gentle thunk Romana adds another carrot to her breakfast mate's plate. After placing a protective hand over her meal Kay finally replies to Daxia, swallowing a bit. Her words are perhaps a bit too soft, as she just looked down.
"But ja. That's true I guess. I don't have to join the Castle guard. Bein' the last one of them and all. Even if'n I was just the mascot."
As Daxia continued to speak, her words snared Romana's attention, away from her breakfast and the balance of power as related to potatoes and carrots. For a long moment, after the focus of Daxia's words centered on her, she sat silent, thinking and then thinking more. Blue eyes then narrowed and she frowned, for a moment, for a long set of heartbeats. The aristocratic lass shook her head back and forth, hard and harsh, sending her long locks flying.
" ... Hey watch ... out ..."
The Easterner stood, carefully reaching up to take off her earrings. these she hen looped to her necklace, and then slipped both both beneath the collar of her tunic. Which she would then straighten, all nice and proper before letting her head fall forward, chin almost touching her chest, black hair cascading to conceal her face.
Very submissive.
Reaching down she'd gather up her breakfast plate, take two steps and turn, to face Kay.
Kay looked up, once more confused, even to the point of scootching backwards a hair.
It was a perfect turn, ending with a curtsey, slowly falling to her knees, slowly lowering her head almost to the ground, while outstretching her hands and then lifting them, to offer her portion of breakfast to the Koromov.
"What's ... what's ... whats she doing? Blue-eyes, That's your breakfast."
Kay stared back, eyes wide and cheeks very red. Romana replied with gentle words, quiet words, as if, perhaps ... there was much unsaid about such matters.
Daxia set her empty plate on the ground beside her, then stood and stepped to Romana’s side. She looked at Kay as she knelt beside her friend. Although her face was schooled to the near-perfect Court observer, something about the set of her mouth and look in her eyes said there were things Daxia knew about Romana’s unspoken matters.
Taking the plate from Romana and sighing, she shook her head as she spoke softly to the Easterner.
“Is this a thing you’re willing to do, Romana? Father showed you more cruelty than we can imagine.” She held out her free hand to the Easterner. “Dazi knows Romana able to do much, much, much. But Dazi does not like seeing Romana hurt. Romana can promise remembering how to be proper servant not make Romana hurt too, too much?”
A hand held out in friendship was all she could offer. Even after all these many months, Dazi’s instincts still pushed her toward offering physical comfort... be it simply a hand on one’s arm or shoulder, or a warm embrace. Romana, though... no, those were not things Romana quite understood yet.
Ah, now there was an Easterner worthy of every bit of her wrath! And it wasn’t because he was an Easterner, either, that Romana’s Father deserved a sword or two through his body... it was because he was a very, very bad and evil and just plain mean Father.
“Come now, Romana. You know all this servant business makes Dayalans uneasy, da? Up, up... finish your breakfast. Your point is well made. And I think Lady Kadri would not expect quite so much submissiveness in her servants.”
She glanced up at Kadri, the glint in her eyes almost daring Kadri to contradict her. The corners of her mouth twitched with the beginning of a smile before she looked back at Kay.
“And you’re the second Koromov to go on about this Lady and Ladyship nonsense. Dandy outranks me, and she’s smarter than I am, so I’ll accept the ‘Lady Daxia, Knight of Dawnview Castle’ bit from her.” Daxia smiled at Kay... in that way Kay was starting to understand that there might be the possibility of a head thumping in her near future. “I’m not an Allaine like Lily-kins. I’m just Yurisdotter, which is a perfectly fine thing to be, by the way. So think up something else, little one.”
He follows the conversation but stays silent, instead eating his food before anyone tried to take some of his portion. Mind, as he is sharing his with Longtooth anyway, and the snarkhound sits close. that might be enough protection in itself. With his plate almost empty now, he passes it to Longtooth and adds his thoughts.
"I know even less than Mikal of politics and what we are doing a least some of the time."
His tone suggests that this doesn't really worry him much.
"The Rhoni generally avoid any contact as much as is possible but in doing so may leave a dangerous gap in their knowledge. It would seem though that my branch of the family are less that way inclined.. and maybe I likewise."
There is a glance towards Romana before his attention returns mostly to Daxia.
"So best assume I know nothing.. and tell me if I need to know. If I need a role to play, maybe I could be Kadri's stable boy or some such. She has taught me to look after Liscia, so where my manners might be lacking and not so humble, my skills should stand some scrutiny."
"Mikal, my dear, dear friend ... I assure you that I have no idea at all what you may be talking about. I am the very model of womanly restraint and grace, and would never stoop to ... idle ... threats the make a pointed point. And I could think of none better to play - or be - a bodyguard than you. Either as an act or in reality."
She considers Darian and Cesare, looking that way.
"Exotic princesses from exotic lands surely have exotic traveling companions ofttimes, do they not? And I am sure, without too much effort, that Cesare could be suitably exotic. As for Darien ... simply by the virtue of being who and what she is, most here will consider her exotic enough, so far as Talantal is concerned. Do you not think so?" She asks to the aforementioned two.
"Besides which. I quite plan on being exotic enough myself that they may well not be giving to much thought to those walking with me."
A wide, and somewhat wicked grin graces her face.
She then looks to Bekkah, Jankin and Daxia
"Would a beneficent lady of Attera seem out of place traveling with a humble wood carver were it her choice to do so? Would any question her choice of traveling companion too closely?"
She looks again to Daxia, then to Romana.
"Submissive?"
She snorts.
"If it were Kadri plain and simple, I would not have servants at all, but if the Lady Kadri must have one even in illusion, one who was being ... so submissive ... would soon find themselves the recipient of a swift kick to the rear, until they got off their knees and looked me in the eye. Especially when they are a friend."
She pauses to reconsider.
"Or in your case, until they looked at the top of my head, because I'd sprain my neck trying to look you in the eyes standing."
Last edited by Art in the Blood; Tue 31/12/1301:13 UTC.
The Heartwood The Highland Path Highside, West of Silk Creek Ravine On the Road past Brockman's Holdfast Morning, Marketday, the fourteenth day of Poet
Bekkah, Daxia, Darian, Mikal, Jankin, Dean, Cesare, Kadri ... Morning Star, Longtooth, Kay and Romana
... the conversation at breakfast continues ...
"Ja ... ja ... except the most logical would get me bopped right powerful."
Kay slowly slipped a bit further away, thankful that Daxia retrieved the plate from Romana and drew the Easterner up to a more proper stance. the hand was accepted ... though it was taken back right quick once she was settled. And while Romana would return to her breakfast, a few more carrots would sneak their way onto Kay's plate.
Which, in turn, would get an odd grumble from Kay, and if asked, she'd quickly answer,
"I'm thinking!"
As she ate, Romana looked between Kadri and Daxia.
"That ... that not good. The problem with all exoticals ... is that exoticals attract attention. Servant not servant, folks ask, why not small, why not head bows, bulls, blues ... bowed. Why not head bowed? Cessesare, look close, exotic because Rhoni - but rhoni knowns, they everywhere yes yes yes ...
"Servant girl, stand proud, tall, to mistress ... ask ... who is, really? That not good."
Romana frowned and slumped.
"Romanas not likes, make feels ... like tummy inside outs.
"But all Romanas save.
"Romanas friends. Friends do what needed.
"Will do. For alls.
"Romanas wish better ideas, yesyesyes?
"Romanas know not other way, to hide in cities, be what folks wish sees.'
He only ate lightly, still thinking about the early morning remembrance. At the last comment, he grunts, "If not a servant, Romana could always pose as my wife. Jvrillian contracts take us everywhere, especially lone Jvrillians. I could have met her anyplace. It's not completely unheard of for a Jvrillian to take his wife on a long term contract. Especially when it is a city job and not campaigning."
The Heartwood The Highland Path Highside, West of Silk Creek Ravine On the Road past Brockman's Holdfast Morning, Marketday, the fourteenth day of Poet
Bekkah, Daxia, Darian, Mikal, Jankin, Dean, Cesare, Kadri ... Morning Star, Longtooth, Kay and Romana
... the conversation at breakfast continues ...
To the mercenariy's words Romana would turn, look a little ... perhaps scared ... for a moment and then swallow.
'If thats what best ... Romanas do ..."
Even as she speaks, however, her eyes went wide, as if it a manner of shock, as if consequences were followed o their very end.
"Mikal marries Romanas just like Dominikies and Kadris?"
We so far have two ideas on a role for Romana - as a servant (in one manner or the other) or as a wife (with all its consequences).
Both are good ideas, each with heir own merits. Perhaps there are more - just how do you keep folks from turning on someone like her in a city?
I'd just like to note that the slightly airy blue eyed lass that doesn't want to hurt anyone is still an NPC - and as this role could become part of the plot - the role she takes will need to be decided by you folks, not her.
[OOC Understood - just want to ask, does Romana with the black hair look enough like any of us to pass as a relative? We would need to take in her demeanor, manner of speech too. Another idea might be to pass her off as either in training to Bekka or under treatment from bekka, thereby affording her a Lady of Attera's protection. I might suggest this, not sure Cesare would though - happy that anyone else steals the idea if viable! ]
ooc reply - the issues with a disguised Romana are several fold. Like most simple disguises it falls apart under scrutiny. One cannot or should not wear a hat everywhere, and all it takes is a wrong shift of her head to give away pointed ears. Why it works is that you folks have been traveling; you haven't stayed in one place long enough for folks attention to wander to her in detail. It's what's called a paper thin disguise. Remember, she had already raised curious eyes in Bordertown, but you left before that plotline could snap back at you.
Romana realizes this, which is why she suggested a very subservient person. The type of person folks see as an object rather than an item of interest, the person who fades into the background.
Being married to Mikal has a bit of merit in that the natural tendency is to focus on the husband rather than the wife. It might force Romana to be the "stay at home" wife which limits her use to you as a party resource. That said, while she wouldn't be under the scrutiny of nobles, she'd have the other goodwives to worry about.
Her mannerisms and speech pattern are a very smart thing to consider; that's a great insight, and something a Rhoni would understand.
Your other thought is very interesting. The requirements to enter into training under Bekka (and thus with the Church of Attera) is that the candidate be a woman. There are no limitations to what race that person might be; Attera is the Lady of Mercy after all.
And as Bekka knows, coming under the protection of her Lady has certain benefits.
[ooc: First off sorry for my pro-longed absence. I'm going to work at being a much more consistent player]
Bekkah
"Well she certainly could become a novice of Attera. But it can't be just a disguise. I take my calling too seriously to simply let another pretend to learn of my Lady. If Romanas wishes to truly try to learn our ways, then I can teach her."
[ooc: I'd need some help knowing how to go about training her. I assume as a full priestess, I have the ability to train?]
The Heartwood The Highland Path Highside, West of Silk Creek Ravine On the Road past Brockman's Holdfast Morning, Marketday, the fourteenth day of Poet
Bekkah, Daxia, Darian, Mikal, Jankin, Dean, Cesare, Kadri ... Morning Star, Longtooth, Kay and Romana
"Romanas ..."
Looking up from beneath false black bangs, blue eyes peered out quizzically.
The Easterner just looked at Bekkah, for a heartbeat, then two, then three.
"Romanas never thought, Kind One, Kind One would ever have good thoughts about anys such as Romanas."
Her head dropped, looking down to the ground, face and features hidden, quieter still for an equal space of the morning. When she looked up again she considered the elder Atteran seriously, though there was something else hinted in the princess' steady gaze. Perhaps a touch of desperation. The question would be ... desperate for what?
"Guess ... guesss ... Romanas can be ... wrong, yesyesyes?"
"Romanas brought up to believes that if makes feel good, do. No matter what. No matter to who. If feels good to hurts, then hurt. Romanas believes ... believes ... that ... is ...
" .. broken."
"Romana also believes ...."
She manages a small sad smile,
"That Romanas answer rights now, this heartbeats, Bekkah knows .... whim, escape, minstrel's song, jesters show, and Bekkahs smarts, see through like sun upon mists upon Sea of Pearls."
With that, her head dropped again and very silently the young woman ate her breakfast. She'd slowly taste each potato, scrappet of meat, moisten a piece of dried bread to take up the last crumbs, leaving the wooden plate spotless. She'd look at it, at the emptiness, turning it over in her hand.
"So many people plates after breakfasts."
Setting the plate in Kay's lap, the tall woman pushed herself up, standing beneath the morning sun. Romana looked to the east, where She rose, shading her brow with a flat hand. Her skirts were then straightened with a tossle then a smoothing of her palms, and so very very softly, she whispered.
"Excuses ... please."
Pushing open the barn door Romana took a step outside, and then, with a silent pace, walked out, away from the trail, towards the ravine, into the broken fields.
"I am not one to judge you. My Lady will see into your heart and she will know. I do know that she does not turn aside a woman, any woman who wishes to help others. Any others. We never judge who we help."
She thought about the other thing Romana said.
"It does feel good Romana to bring healing and comfort to another. It feels better than anything I've ever experienced in my life. And when it involves an innocent like a child then you feel closer to the Lady than at anytime. I actually feel her smile upon me."
"No, it is not something one decides in a heartbeat. It took me a while before I knew." she said as Romana left the inn. She did not follow. What the girl had to do was her own business. She would have to come to this decision on her own. If anyone tries to go after her, Bekkah will say something.
As Romana walks out, Cesare moves to lean against the door jamb, taking the same watchful stance that he had the night before when Mikal was out on his own. As is his way, he makes no move to interfere with another's freedom of action or need for space - but just watches their back - just in case.
He hadn't eaten much, so his plate was easily cleaned. After offering his suggestion about Romana, he heard the one Bekkah offered and he likes it better. After all, even if her hair or ears are noticed, no one accosts a Lady of Attera, or her initiate.
When Romana moves off to the field, and Cesare moves to lean on the door jamb, Mikal picks up the crossbow he's been teaching Ceasare with.
**Let's see how much he's learned.**
He loosens the screw holding the string lock such that the crossbow string cannot be locked. As soon as you pull the string back it releases, leaving no time to lay a bolt in the channel.
Approaching Cesare he calls out to get his attention then tosses the man the crossbow and a bolt. He draws his sword and points at the crossbow with it. "You've got a fullhand count to fire that bolt into that wall", he points to the wall of the house several fullhands of feet off, "before the charging horseman skewers you with this sword."
He twists the sword with a flourish through the air and begins to take small steps closer to Cesare, a small smile on his face.
He catches the crossbow with one hand, more as an instinctive reaction. Then he grins as the challenge is issued. This is no simple test, otherwise why give him so much time?
His eyes run over the crossbow looking for the trap he knows is there somewhere, his fingers following testing the set up.. until he finds the loose string. Once identified the remedy is easy, then he loads the bolt and fires - though not dead centre - at the wall with a couple of seconds to spare.
Still holding the crossbow, he arm falls to his side as he turns back to Mikal.
"You know, there are a few potential problems here ..."
She starts ticking off points on her fingers. One finger.
"First. This is the midsummer's council in Talantal. That means many, many will be there - including from Amber. Including those of the Terilanquel. They could be very interested in my presence, and not in a good way.
A second finger.
"Now, if I am going as Kadri, wedded to Dominic of the Kories, that will quite likely keep them from trying to claim me as a runaway and take me back with them. However ... that brings up another potential problem; Playing with the politics of the Kories, who will, no doubt, be like a pack of wolves to the hunt. Now, I am not entirely averse to the potential of teasing a pack of Kories, but it comes with a large share of risks of its own. It is also possible I could try to get in say with you, under the protection of the Allaines - yet if I do that, I am still liable to attract the eyes of the Terilanquel at the least and the Kories possibly unless I just stay completely out of sight. I could, perhaps, try sneaking myself in by more clandestine means - yet I imagine that the Korie guard will be no laughing matter."
A pause.
"There is a certain appeal to the thought of making a point straight to the face of those I left, however ... there is also risk and that risk may well include all of you - so it bears mentioning."
Last edited by Art in the Blood; Sun 05/01/1401:52 UTC.
He chuckles. "It's different when it's for real, but nice job."
He looks at where the bolt struck. "Your aim is good. You just need more time practicing and you'll be as good as I am, but you don't need me for that."
"So, we'll work on the things that matter, and where I can help. Tonight we'll start working on taking it completely apart and putting it back together. Cleaning it. Learning how to tighten the string and make field repairs. Here's an example."
He takes the crossbow back and re-loosens the string lock the way it was. "Say you had this same problem and you don't have a small enough blade, or tool, to tighten it back up the way you just did. What do you do?"
He glances at the ground and picks up a loose barn nail. "The string rests on this metal pin. When you pull the trigger the bar holding the pin from moving is released and the pin is allowed to tilt flat so the string can fire the bolt. If the bar won't hold the pin from moving you can jam a nail, or other piece of metal, into the channel", he demonstrates. "Now when you pull the string back the nail keeps the pin from tilting. Since you now can't use the trigger to fire it anyway, you can lay the bow across your forearm and use your other hand to pull the nail out and it will fire."
"Be warned that your aim will suffer a bit as it's an awkward way to fire, but it's better than nothing."
He listens to the on-going planning for Talantal going on inside the barn with one ear and sighs. "I suppose what they're planing in there is more to you liking than a cavalry skirmish, but not me."
He watches Mikal carefully, rehearsing the movements in his mind but still finds the time to take a look out at Romana to make sure she is safe.
"Aim will improve. I have a good eye, hence the throwing daggers, but I just need to get used to the feel of the weapon. Bolts go a lot further than knives. I did not feel I could do my share from the tower."
He chuckles, also glancing inside.
"I'm not sure it is more to my liking. I have never been in a cavalry charge, so it is difficult to say. In my view though, large scale fighting tends to follow from playing in politics. I think I am best out of both.!
Daxia said nothing, but listened closely as Romana spoke. Since that long ago conversation they’d had on a bale of hay watching a pair of cats playing, the Dayalan had listened to quite a number of tales quietly told by the Easterner. There had been times when Daxia could easily forget the tall foreigner was one of those she’d been brought up to hate... and then Romana would say something to jar her from her complacency. Often she suspected Romana had said some of the things she’d privately said for the very purpose of pointing out the reality of her world... and how very different it was from Daxia’s sheltered life in Dawnview. For that, Daxia had been grateful.
And Romana listened, too. Daxia had spoken of the beauty of Dawnview, tiny in comparison to Kh’Lhy’Ra perhaps, but sheltered, too, by the Black Mountains. It was in private that Romana allowed herself to be the insightful and intelligent woman she was... her curiosity knew no bounds. From the simplest what do you call this? to the complex and thought-provoking why do you do that? every conversation with Romana was an education for both of them.
And more than that, Romana had seemed to take it all in stride.
Everything. Romana seemed to have taken everything — from breaking a Curse in an ancient Dayalan temple outside Bordertown to acting out her part in the play that was Highside Heather to her playful bantering with Kay — as just one more new thing to do, another thing to learn. But this... this decision to follow Bekkah in service to Attera... this was something very different.
The Dayalan’s eyes followed the Easterner as she left the barn.
There was a knot in her heart that loosened as she looked between her sister and the doorway through which her friend had walked. Bekkah had offered Romana something huge. It was more than just a way to pass through lands where normally she would be killed on sight. It was more than just hope for a future that didn’t involve hurting anyone. It was more than even the Eastern maxim of doing whatever felt good. It was the thing Romana sought the entire time she’d journeyed with them... something she’d said outright once or twice, but hinted at with regularity.
It was the opportunity to have a different day every day. Something new. Never the same. Every single day.
She turned to Kadri, nodding slightly at the points Kadri made. But in the end, Dazi had to chuckle.
“Kadri, the only way to avoid risk in this venture is to avoid Talantal altogether. Even then, actions we might fail to take when avoiding Talantal might bring far greater risks in the future.”
Dazi shrugged. “You’re overthinking things, my friend... and I should be offended as that’s generally my job,” she said, smiling broadly. “Do what you do best. Better than any of us, I think, you can hide in plain sight by being anyone and anything.
“But keep in mind the alliance between Allaine and Amber. By attaching yourself to me, to Allaine, you risk not only that alliance, but you put yourself in a weaker position in regards to your family. You are in the strongest position to both evade your family and help our cause through distractions as Kadri, bride of Lord Dominic Korie.”
Daxia looked between Kadri and Bekkah, before addressing Kadri again. “We three are — for lack of a better term — leaders of our own parties. I and Kay have little choice... we are and must be aligned with Allaine.
“Bekkah, as an Imperial and Lady of Attera, has the most freedom. No one dares harm a Lady of Attera, da? But remember that no one dares question the decisions of a Lady of Attera, either. Whatever Bekkah decides she should do... well, everyone knows that she and all her Sisters are representatives of the Lady of Compassion and Mercy... so everyone knows that any decisions Bekkah makes or actions that she takes would come from that place of compassion and mercy.”
Dazi paused to look at her sister, smiling in a way that was solely for Bekkah. “I don’t know why it took you any time at all to know your calling. As hard as it was for me to see you leave for Lilia’s Castle, it was something that had always seemed obvious to me. But maybe that’s because I’m your little sister,” she said as she snugged an arm around Bekkah to hug her.
She sighed and looked at Kadri again. “You, Kadri, have more freedom of choice than I do, though perhaps less than Bekkah does. I would say your best course of action is to become the fox in the henhouse of Korie. This will certainly keep you from immediately being carried off amid tears of joy — not yours, of course — when the missing daughter and sister is discovered.” Dazi tilted her head, as a possibility is seen, a Path is cleared. She nodded, and smiled. “With Amber an ally of Allaine, there is the possibility that a daughter marrying into a Family at odds with Allaine would get that daughter disowned. That could certainly work in your favor to alleviate any long-term problems with your family.
“Of all who face risks in this endeavor, I think you — and those who accompany you — are likely to face the greatest risks. The Heir of Korie and his new wife would likely welcome you with open arms... though I’d be wary of any embrace they offer. You may well need a Jvrillian bodyguard simply to help you watch in all directions at once. I don’t know that I’d compare the Kories to a pack of wolves, for at least among wolves there might be some true loyalty to the pack.
“Montague is allied with Korie, and their daughter is now the Korie Heir’s wife. But theirs is not the alliance that Allaine knows with Corliss and Kierkegaard, or even Amber. Theirs is an alliance in name only, and in the occasional common goal.
“No, you are walking into a pit of viper snakes, I think. Encourage their animosity toward one another; that might be all you need to do.”
Then she turned and whispered to Bekkah, before getting up and following Romana outside.
She paused several paces away from her friend.
“Dazi listen if Romana wants talk. Dazi here as friend if Romana wants quiet.”
Movement comes from his right, from inside, and he steps back from the door to let Daxia pass between them. Then he holds out a hand to Mikal asking for the crossbow.
"Might have a practice now, try that nail trick."
He smiles briefly, a small nod following.
"As I said, good teacher. I will not forget my debt.. once I can get use of a forge."
The Heartwood The Highland Path Highside, West of Silk Creek Ravine On the Road past Brockman's Holdfast Morning, Marketday, the fourteenth day of Poet
Bekkah, Daxia, Darian, Mikal, Jankin, Dean, Cesare, Kadri ... Morning Star, Longtooth, Kay and Romana
She looked down from the perfect blue sky, burning away the cool of the night, sharing the warmth of the dry season. Across the Highside the farmers were already awake. The pickaxes and hammers of the Montague quarries were already singing. In Talantal the cathedral bells had welcomed the morning and the front gates hauled up; the day's merchants and farmers flowing into the first two rings as regular as the tide at Talesan's Village. Brockman's too, stirred, slowly, its keepers shading the morning glare with hands to brows.
On a little abandoned farm, She watched two practice a manner of archery, a breakfast being finished, a short brunette standing in the doorway arms crossed and trying to look fierce while stayed by a Priestess' solemn look.
She cast a long shadow for a slender foreigner that walked away from that barn, who finally came a stop where brown fields ended and the first hints of rock escarpments began. There Romana stood, crossing her arms - hugging herself actually, kicking at the pebbles at her feet. If she heard Daxia's words she made no response, save perhaps, once or twice, a hand clenching into a little fist, to rub beneath one eye.
Kneeling, then, she searched the stones at her feet with her hands, sure, curious, and very picky, until she found one a touch softer, a touch chalkier than the others. Then it is her turn to kneel at Daxia's feet, eyes narrowed as she marked out a circle around the Dayalan, inscribing around it arcane symbols and what must be the flowing lines of her native tongue.
A handful of paces away, she did the same for herself.
**********
Mikal and Cesare noticed it first. The sudden wind, blasting across the fields like a sledgehammer, almost snapping the limbs of the graveyard ree, definitely rattling the loose boards of the barn, sending some flying and creating a few new holes in the roof. it was a hot wind; it stung, brought up beads of sweat and a sudden bite of pain; as if one had strayed too close to a midnight bonfire. Kay reflexively brought her arm up, to cover her eyes, only for them to open wide and fall to hold herself, that heat broken and replaced with a bitter winter's breeze, one that ripped through the small homestead leaving a layer of frost upon the barn, the ground and Mikal's crossbow.
And then ... it was gone.
Someone with sharp eyes might see that breeze ripple away into the distance, until, once again, it was just another warm summer morning.
**********
When Romana returned, it was with a slow but determined pace.
Her thoughts, her path, her destination was true.
She crossed to Bekkah.
Slowly she reached up, a shake of her head baring her long slender ears, to, carefully, one by one remove her earrings. Then from her neck she took her own pendants. Fine pieces they were, marked with fine gemstones. But where, before, they glittered as if they were alive, as if they shone with an inner light, now they lay still and dull.
Empty.
She offered the three pieces jewelry to the Atteran Priestess.
Taking the crossbow, head down he examines the nail and how it is positioned.
Suddenly his head snaps up and he looks out, feeling the wind and noting the unnatural chill. Instinctively he makes a warding sign feeling that this is not a natural occurrence. Tense, he looks around, watching for a threat. When nothing happens, and the chill disappears, he starts to relax again though he is still watchful.
He waits until both Romana and Daxia reenter the barn and then elects to stay outside on watch but also to practice with the crossbow.
She'd looked down fondly on Dazi as she leaned in close, kissing the top of her head as she had when Dazi was small enough to cuddle up on her lap. She nodded with understanding as Dazi went outside. Then shortly afterwards Romana appeared. Bekkah stood looking up at the taller woman. She accepted each piece of jewelry as they were offered. She smiled up at Romana's final request.
"If we can't find one, we'll have one made." she said with a smile that told Romana that she understood exactly how she felt at this moment. She slipped the pieces into the pockets of her robe then took Romana's hands in hers.
"We shall have to get you new clothes. Do you happen to have anything white? I have extra robes, but they might be quite scandalous on you. Perhaps we can find someone to alter them or find some in town. We also need to sit and talk, just you, me and the Lady."
She smiled up at Romana.
"If I am not mistaken, I think you already feel her love upon you."
The Heartwood The Highland Path Highside, West of Silk Creek Ravine On the Road past Brockman's Holdfast Morning, Marketday, the fourteenth day of Poet
Bekkah, Daxia, Darian, Mikal, Jankin, Dean, Cesare, Kadri ... Morning Star, Longtooth, Kay and Romana
"Someone risk everythings...
"Lost everything ..."
Romana looked down for a heartbeat.
"Everythings."
Then she looked up, her smile soft and sad.
"That how. Romana knows love."
Even for Romana the snippets of words were fragments, just pieces of a puzzle, as if trying to divine an image in a shattered piece of stained glass.
Then her head shook, back and forth, many times ... once, twice, thrice, her long hair snapping this way and that, as if banishing those thought; or perhaps stepping past them, perhaps stepping up from them.
"Whitewhitwhites ... of course Romanas have white skirts; must mach Dancers, yesyesyes? But ... but ... but ..."
Her shoulders rose and fell.
"Surcoats all blues and reds and greens and blues not sames, not white and white an white. Romanas make do. Layout in sun when lessoning ... lessons learned ... learnings? Then fades? Maybe not fades fasts enough ..."
She looked down at Bekkah, who had taken her hands.
She blinked.
"Oh.
"My."
Her head tilted curiously, when she finally looked into her mentor's eyes.
"Meanwhile ... I have an outfit that would be appropriate I think - I saved it from when I left ... however, I am going to need some help getting into it and making myself presentable. It has been a while since I dressed to attract attention rather than deflect it."
She didn't interrupt the girl and when Romana finally stopped and looked into Bekkah's eyes she only saw compassion and understanding. She saw love.
"Don't worry about the surcoat. I have an extra one that will work for now. Probably still a bit short, but at least you have robes. Besides, it only really matters to others. Our Lady does not truly care about the clothes we wear." she added with that same soft smile.
"If the others don't have need of us, then we can sit and talk in private. If we're leaving soon, then we can talk more tonight."
He takes a few more practice shots with the crossbow into a wooden wall well away from the others, trying to learn to adjust for the wind, trying to keep his arm steady. Then goes to retrieve his bolts, if necessary digging them out with the dagger, rather than risk damaging them.
Heading inside the barn momentarily he takes the pots from breakfast and heads to the stream to wash them. Whilst there he spots a useful herb growing a takes some leaving roots intact so they stay fresh longer. He'll show Kadri this later and how he uses it in the hope she'll agree to teach him to ride.. the next step in owning his own horse. He accepts that this is a unlikely ambition, almost a dream, given the cost of horses but he wants to be ready if that opportunity can be brought about. Kadri never actually agreed, instead studying Liscia with some thought and then she was distracted by other conversation - but he can live in hope.
Pots washed, herb stowed away, he returns to the barn to see if they are setting off any time soon.
Shortly, Kadri looks around, sees everyone occupied, and moves to Cesare.
"Cesare. I believe you wanted, perhaps, to learn to ride, yes? If there is to be someone even pretending to care for my horse - or even pretending to part of my 'retinue' - they will need to know about horses, including how to at least ride them at a gentle pace. "
Often in the background, often serious, his humour usually dry and understated, however Kadri's words bring the largest smile that anyone - maybe outside of Darian - has seen.
"Now?"
His eyes shine with excitement but there is also a doubt present, a doubt stemming from many experiences of being let down in the past.
"Well, I could wait to next week if it pleased you better."
She offered a mischievous smile of her own.
"Besides, how could I refuse someone who gets that wide of a smile at the chance to ride? Come, come. Tell me, Cesare ... What do you THINK you know about riding?"
Last edited by Art in the Blood; Sun 12/01/1413:20 UTC.
He smiles at her teasing, little diminishing his happy state at the moment. Then he considers her question with considerable thought.
"It is best to sit facing the horse's head.."
But he cannot hold back a laugh.
"In truth I have sat on a horse, the one we used to pull our cart. It was a small tired horse, and so I cannot really say that I had ridden it. I have watched all of you though.. quite a lot.. over the past months.. but I think that is a very different thing to actually doing it."
"Good - then there is little you will have to forget. Lisica is small - but she is neither old nor tired. We will start with the most simple - mounting. Come?"
She motions towrds Lisica and heads that way herself.
Having stowed his crossbow, he follows Kadri as she leads the way to Liscia. He has spent a lot of time looking after her and so they are familiar with each other. As he draws close, he reaches out to stroke her soft muzzle. He may not know much about horses but he knows Liscia is special.
"Now normally, you want to try to get on - if you can - by standing on something - reduces the strain on both you and the horse. However, I'm going to show you how to get on without one. First things, I've shown you how to put on or take off the saddle, start by putting that on ..."
She digs in a pouch and finds a little lump of something sweet she had been saving.
As part of looking after Liscia he has saddled her before so he takes the treat, feeding it to her and then gets the saddle, doing up the girth fairly tight so that it does not slip in use but also making sure he can insert two fingers under it to allow for the horse's comfort, just as Kadri had shown him before. Once he has doubl checked, he steps back & turns to Kadri.
"Right, now you are going to take the reins in your left hand ... and your right hand ... here ... And then your left foot in the stirrup - and you are going to spring up and into the saddle, doing two things .. staying as close to her body as possible, to put as little pressure on her back as you can, and then make sure to seat yourself gently in the saddle. It will look like this ..."
And she proceeds to do it in one smooth and practiced motion.
He waits for her to dismount and then takes up the position he saw her in, standing next to Liscia. Initially he lifts up the wrong foot but realises almost immediately that it is not going to work.
He gets the correct foot in place, hesitates on the first try resulting in a small hop and then pushes off, managing to get his leg over her body fairly fluidly and without tugging on the reins. He is talking to her softly all this time in the Rhoni language, soft and lilting. Carefully he settles into the saddle, concentrating as he is not sure how she will react.
And she is very quickly calm, whuffling slightly, and shifts her weight around on her feet a bit as if getting used to the new weight, but otherwise quiet.
"She knows you now. She must like you, or you would be decorating the wall."
She gives him a wink.
"She doesn't put up with people she doesn't like much. Like Horse, like rider. Hows it feel?"
"I love being able to see so much more, like the closeness with Liscia. My balance is pretty good anyway so I don't feel worried - though maybe I should be. The sitting position is not so natural, might be uncomfortable before too long."
He looks down at Lescia.
"I like her too. And she is being nice to me.. so far."
"She knows she's in charge, you see. Now, how you make requests of her Highness is gentle nudges, nudge her side with the knee on the side you want to turn to ..."
And she proceeds to give a set of simple instructions.
"She will figure out where she wants to go on her own if you don't give her suggestions."
He follows the instructions, gently squeezing with his left knee and not quite ready for the responsiveness, much sooner than he expected, almost loses his balance... though he is grinning from ear to ear.
"Good, good - very light . To someone who doesn't know what they are looking for it might almost look like the horse is guiding itself. You aren't controlling her so much as letting her know what you want, yes? Trying to actually directly force things gives you less control."
"Does this work with any horse.. or is Liscia in particular trained this way?"
His thoughts are already running beyond this training as he considers what opportunities might be thrown his way. He is enough of a realist to accept that it might never happen.. but the Fates often lead down unlikely paths. He wants to be ready.
"That largely depends on the trainer - Lisica is better trained perhaps than most. However to a degree it still holds - horses are stubborn, and if at all possible you want to let the have your way. But they all have personalities - much like people. Lisica is like me. Any other horse, you will have to figure out their ... Quirks. Key is, be confident. Your horse will know if it is able to master you. Your body language will be a dead giveaway. Some, you may have to force, at least a few times - to let them know where the control lies."
He nods, absorbing the knowledge like a parched sponge. He feels fairly confident at the moment.. and he is used to Liscia which helps. Now though he is eager to move on from the theory.
†Restricted forums can only be accessed by DreamLyrics members of the age of 18 years or older. Access which is granted by the Behind Closed Doors Procedure. ™DreamLyrics Play-by-Post. DreamLyrics Play-by-Post does not own copyright on DreamLyrics texts or graphics, except trademarked DreamLyrics logos and logotypes. The works contained in DreamLyrics are copyrighted (automatically, under the Berne Convention) by the original authors and may be available under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution Licence. (See Copyrights for details.) Privacy Policy
I've been trying to write a post all week. Every time I get a few sentences in, Gypsy or Zeim would post something else and make moot whatever it was I'd written. It's been a freaking hilarious week! (Really... I'm laughing, not being sarcastic.) Then my Muse would say, "Pffft, never mind this silly knees-bent running about advancing behavior! Let us wave our private parts at their aunties, and go back to BTS!" To which, of course, I would have to reply, "Ew... and okay."
![[Linked Image]](http://www.dreamlyrics.com/forums/gallery/291/medium/5119.jpg)
![[Linked Image]](http://www.dreamlyrics.com/forums/gallery/291/full/5559.jpg)
]
]![[Linked Image]](http://www.dreamlyrics.com/forums/gallery/291/medium/5100.jpg)
![[Linked Image]](http://www.dreamlyrics.com/forums/gallery/291/medium/5115.jpg)
