Chapter 6 (Continued)
Posted: Fri May 03, 2024 7:31 pm
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Lireba's snort of laughter could match Georg for its dryness. "Yes, well... if that's the case, I can recommend a good cobbler in town. I'll leave you to your discussion," she says. Her bow to Jaipha is stiff in its formality, not overly deep. Polite rather than fawning. "Please think on what I've suggested." she adds to the Naucan woman as she executes a near-parade turn and walks off with a sigh toward two of her men currently arguing with one another and not paying attention to their post."The very thought of a woman more suspicious-minded than a Shining Guard officer will haunt my nightmares, I'm sure," Georg replies, dry as Orien's radiant forehead. "Spare a thought for my poor boots, which will be worn out by sundown at this rate and cost a pretty penny to accommodate my hooves."
Jaipha turns her hand over, touching palm to Georg's palm, and gives his much larger hand a gentle squeeze. "I know you do," she says with a gentle smile. There's a depth to her gaze. Serious. Sad. Knowing. Warm. It's reminiscent of someone much older than she appears to be. "Eldarin is different, though it's a subtle difference and I haven't been able to spare the time or the mental space to explore it with them. Something's happened, I'm guessing? Something other than grief and loss? They are... more certain. They may need help soon, but for now, they are a rock in the middle of a swirling stream. A constant. And that's been a blessing for many of our kin today.""It's good that you have someone like Eldarin here, despite the Wards. It would have been tragic to lose someone without, well..." Georg trails off, not sure if he should have said in that much in mixed company. Since he's in the habit of holding his foot perilously close to his maw, however, he does venture, "Are they getting the help they need?"
He shakes his head. "I won't say I understand, because I'm sure I don't, but I sympathize. I'll do my best not to take anything personally. Being feared is something of an occupational and personal hazard, so I have some experience in that area." He places a hand over Jaipha's with utmost gentleness. "I appreciate the warning."
This Jaipha is a far cry from the one who never missed a chance to proposition him, never passed up in innuendo, in the short time he's known her. Georg wants to unburden himself, pour his cares into those eyes. Recount his growing horror at the realization of Elda slipping away, his anger at the way she seemed inclined to just let it happen, forcing himself to talk her back. But he doesn't know if it's appropriate for him to tell if Eldarin didn't see fit to share that already, and while he's concerned they might be burying things in order to be be support their community needs, Rovan already knows what happened. If he can trust anyone to keep an eye out for Eldarin's well-being, it's the old healer. After too long a silence (see how they like it, comes the fleeting, perverse thought), he says, "It's their calling. I think maybe that became real today in a way it wasn't, before." His massive shoulders heave like an aftershock. "But I've only know them a fraction of the time and a fraction of the extent you have, so who am I to say?"AftermathGM wrote: ↑Fri May 03, 2024 7:52 pmJaipha turns her hand over, touching palm to Georg's palm, and gives his much larger hand a gentle squeeze. "I know you do," she says with a gentle smile. There's a depth to her gaze. Serious. Sad. Knowing. Warm. It's reminiscent of someone much older than she appears to be. "Eldarin is different, though it's a subtle difference and I haven't been able to spare the time or the mental space to explore it with them. Something's happened, I'm guessing? Something other than grief and loss? They are... more certain. They may need help soon, but for now, they are a rock in the middle of a swirling stream. A constant. And that's been a blessing for many of our kin today."
Finch sinks her head into her hands, then presses her fingers to her temples. She glances over at Morwenna as the elven woman draws in a breath at Asra's question. Presented with proof that such things can be, indeed.
Saneq is the first to speak after Asra's theory is dropped into the mix.
"These are two possibilities, yes. She could be under undue influence from outside forces or she could be another version of herself from another page."
Garnyn clears his throat politely, then adds, "It seems those two possibilities are not mutually exclusive, though. If she is from another page, someone could be extorting her cooperation in order to..." He trails off here, uncertain how to finish.
Morwenna takes up the thread, saying softly, "In order to allow her safe return to her own page, mayhap." She turns an eye to each of the group, adding. "Such a possibility would be a powerful motivator."
Finch has been trying to follow all of this, and only partly succeeding. "So we need to find out which it is. Or what else it could be. Or--" She cuts off suddenly, remembering what Georg had told her about Sophie and the Mayor's Ball. "Wait. There's something else."
She reaches across the table toward Iana, laying her palm down flat on the surface. "You said that Charei was insisting that Ti go to the Mayor's Ball?" Finch drums her fingers on the table several times. "Something is going to happen at the ball. Something dangerous. I don't know what it is and I... can't tell you how I know. That's Per... er, Georg's tale to tell. But it has to be tied up with Charei somehow." Finch rolls her eyes upward. "Ugh. I hate mysteries. Just... give me something to smack around, okay? Surely somebody in this mess needs a good smacking around. I just... don't want it to be Charei. She was always so kind. She used to tell these wonderful stories. I could listen to her all day, with that silky voice of hers."
Asra cannot suppress the groan of frustration that escapes her lips, and, pressing her hand against her head, leans back into the wall behind her. They could sit here and speculate and theorize on what is happening, but in the end, they were only guessing. To act on anything but what they already know would be not only foolish, but potentially dangerous. Especially since there are more lives at stake here than only their own."That could explain why she's acting differently," Iana begins slowly. "Why she's hired new guards - not just because she's afraid of something and wants the protection, but because she wants to bring on people who hadn't known her well before, and therefore who wouldn't be able to tell if there had been a change in her behavior. She hasn't been spending much time with Tisara, even though Ti has barely left the house: since Ti is the person who is the most likely to notice any differences. And that could be the reason why she is suddenly spending so much time with Emmenal Angousk," Iana realizes. "If he's the only one who knows that she's the Charei from another page, and if he's working on this plot to weaken the barriers between pages..." She shakes her head. "But if this is a different Charei, what's happened to our Charei? Is she on that other page? Is she here, but held captive?" Of course there are other possibilities, but Iana cannot bring herself to speak them out loud. Not about her friend's mother.
Instead, she continues, "This morning, I heard Charei say that she needed Tisara to be at the ball. And not the way she would have said it if she simply needed Ti to help keep up political appearances - it sounded more urgent than that." She slides her hand across the tabletop towards Finch's in a mirror of the other woman's gesture, and her eyes seek Finch's as she says quietly, "I don't want her to be the one behind all of this either. I've known her all my life! And if she is, then that means that Ti is in even more danger than we thought. We have to find some way to keep Tisara safe, no matter what Charei is up to."
Garnyn straightens a little in his seat at this snippet of verse, a slow smile drawing across his face. "In life, we all follow the trend, on that we can depend," he recites. "That's Boek, isn't it? From Western Winds? I always liked that one."The rhyme snapped her back to the present, her tapping paused as she recites inwardly once more. "Look between, below, behind, to find a thread we can unwind. For in our head, we'll be mislead, if we leave them all combined,"
Asra nods. "One of my tutors growing up was quite fond of that particular verse," she agrees, then furrows her brow in recollection. "Come to think of it, I believe she was Rhamian, or Dikozan, I suppose. Makes me wonder if she viewed the verse in a different light than I'd always taken it..." she mused aloud.Garnyn straightens a little in his seat at this snippet of verse, a slow smile drawing across his face. "In life, we all follow the trend, on that we can depend," he recites. "That's Boek, isn't it? From Western Winds? I always liked that one."
Finch chuckles, the chair creaking as she leans back. "They love it back home in the army. Never believe the enemy's propaganda. Verify everything. Trust no one. That sort of thing," she says as she interlaces her fingers behind her head. "Mine are a very paranoid people when it comes to a conflict." She glances toward the ceiling in thought, then shrugs. "And we're always in some sort of conflict, come to think of it, so..."
Garnyn's eyebrows lift slowly. "That's... an interpretation I haven't heard before."
"You might not have grown up expecting civil war to break out over a passing insult," Finch replies, tipping her head toward Garnyn.
"I think I'd prefer to face him as the Lady of the Mists again. That would give me the best in-road to another conversation. Might also put him off his guard to have another encounter with her," she suggests. "But you're right, having you dressed the same as last time might not be for the best. I could always fully cover you in armor, but as we learned, knowing how that all fits together is not my forte. Might be best to dress you similarly, but in a more warrior-esque way... I'd have to think on it. But I'd prefer having you by my side."She turns toward Asra and adds with an impish twinkle in her eyes, "So glad that 'Weasel Boy' has caught on."
Saneq looks between each of them in turn and asks, "And just who is 'Weasel Boy'?"
Finch straightens up again, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. She never seems to sit still for very long. "His name's Chavon. A thrice-damned thug with delusions of grandeur. He looks like a weasel. Acts like one too. We've had some run-ins with him," she responds.
Saneq nods slowly, breathing out a sigh. "I'm familiar with the name. He's been making himself a nuisance down in the Canals. People I trust are sure that someone up island is propping him up as a challenger to the Pilot," she says, invoking the name of the mysterious individual leading the Ferrymen.
Finch nods. "That fits with what we know," she says, then turns to Asra. "So what do you want to do? You can change your disguise, but unless you disguise me too, I can't go with you. He'll recognize me." The flat set to her expression suggests just how much she doesn't like the idea of Asra going off on her own.
Finch's expression flattens even further. "Dikozan," she mutters. "I'm going to have to educate you on the proper way to refer to a Rhamian citizen, aren't I?" Her mouth tilts sideways in a wry smirk. "You're pretty, so I'll forgive you. This time."Asra nods. "One of my tutors growing up was quite fond of that particular verse," she agrees, then furrows her brow in recollection. "Come to think of it, I believe she was Rhamian, or Dikozan, I suppose. Makes me wonder if she viewed the verse in a different light than I'd always taken it..." she mused aloud.
"What happened the last time you spoke with him?" Iana asks, her words coming slower now as they make their way out through more careful thought. "And what did he think of the Lady of Mists? Knowing that," she adds by way of quick explanation, "could help us figure out how to get him the message in the most effective way."Grimacing, she rubs the back of her neck to relieve the feeling of frustration starting to build. "But I'd have to get the message out first, and I don't know I'd even begin spreading that message out. Nor what to even ask him when we do... I was good enough at putting him off guard, but I feel like we fell into the information that we learned on accident. He may not be so careless this time," she worries.
Finch's words actually spark a short laugh to come from Asra, who seems equally surprised by the mirth. Still, she smiles at Finch, her old woman appearance seeming a fraction more youthful for a moment. "Your capacity for forgiveness and grace is astounding, as always," she comments playfully.Finch's expression flattens even further. "Dikozan," she mutters. "I'm going to have to educate you on the proper way to refer to a Rhamian citizen, aren't I?" Her mouth tilts sideways in a wry smirk. "You're pretty, so I'll forgive you. This time."
"Having interacted with him personally," Asra hesitantly explains, a look of distaste on her features as well. "There might be the tiniest bit of truth to his words. I wouldn't exactly call him 'noble', but I would agree that he is at least from Hara. Confirming anything beyond that with anything aside from his own word would be... difficult."But then, as the conversation turns to Chavon, a grimace of distaste to match Asra's shows through Iana's illusioned-smooth face to wrinkle her nose. "Chavon," she echoes. "Definitely a weasel. We've been watching him for a while." She does not specify who 'we' were, but when Iana speaks in that swift smooth rhythm, she almost certainly means Obsidian. "But there's never any proof for what he does! Or of who he is. He claims to be a Kasiali noble," she explains, with a brief roll of her eyes, "but nobody believes that that's true."
"I think he didn't know what to think, for the most part. He seemed to think she was spouting nonsense, but I definitely put him on the defensive more than once," she reported. "Though its likely any grudging respect he had for her was ruined by our hasty retreat. I can always try to spin something together to excuse it, but who knows if he'd accept it...""What happened the last time you spoke with him?" Iana asks, her words coming slower now as they make their way out through more careful thought. "And what did he think of the Lady of Mists? Knowing that," she adds by way of quick explanation, "could help us figure out how to get him the message in the most effective way."
"Oh, no, that's better!" Iana leans forward, eyes brightening as she declares, "You're a mystery. If he's got any curiosity about him at all, he'll want to know more about you. Of course," she has to concede with a sigh and another disdainful roll of her eyes, "there's always a chance that he hasn't got any curiosity. But even so, we can play on the fact that you put him off-balance. Then he'll want to be on guard against you.""I think the biggest issue he had was not knowing what to think of me. To him, she showed up out of the blue, strutted around like she was queen of the world, and then vanished in the back of a ruddy carriage after Finch's armor started melting away. If he knew something about her, I might be able to work off of that…"
The smile emerges fully onto Iana's face, sparking bright with anticipation. "Oh, that is exactly what they train us in," she declares, with a quick smile over at Garnyn. He'd like this part of Obsidian work, she suspects."Obsidian didn't happen to train you on, I don't know, spreading rumors or false histories about someone? Spreading stories about someone who doesn't exist?"