Café de Nuit

Delegation Black Courage, Year of the Displacer Beast (17 June, 774 BC)
Veneficus

"...I expect our tax revenues to be stable for the next half-year at least, and the regional quota for the Tables will be met easily. I am, ah..."

The speaker paused and looked around the room, as if in search of assistance. No-one met his gaze. The room was stiflingly hot; even in the midsummer heat, braziers burned in all four corners, and the air was thick with incense. The eight sallow, heavily tattooed men seated around the table were sweating freely, and none more freely than the man who had just fallen silent; the very aged man in red at the table's head appeared to be asleep, collapsed in on himself, head lolling and beginning to drool from his opened mouth. The young, ruddy-skinned woman covered in tiger-striped tattoos standing behind him was the only one who seemed comfortable--perhaps because she was naked to the waist and wearing only the sheerest of sarongs.

"Autark?" he asked, respect and fear not quite hiding the faintest hint of contempt in his voice.

The ancient man at the head of the table opened one bloodshot brown eye and then the other, so pale a blue as to be almost white, and fixed the speaker with his uncanny gaze.

"I don't know why you expect your tax revenues to be stable, Iorekssen. Well over half your revenues are agricultural, and I hear bad things of the crop blights on Parne lands. You also seem to be having some trouble with opium shipments into Nova Vaasa evading the scheduled tariffs. Unless that's a deliberate oversight on your part?"

Opening his mouth, then shutting it, the unfortunate Iorekssen looked wildly around the table and was studiously ignored by his fellows. The young woman, on the other hand, met his gaze and smirked.

"No, Autark, of course not. I assure you tha..."

The old man moved his left hand half an inch, and the speaker stopped in mid-word and sat staring at the tabletop.

"I can see you all aim to bore me to death before my time. Collect those tariffs, Iorekssen, and your tax revenues will be much more stable. Voren, don't think I haven't noticed you scanting the Tables. Unless you'd like to be there yourself, you'll meet your quotas. Horlaeks, you did well to catch that Vaasi agent. He was...very useful to me."

"Thank you, Autark. I live to serve."

"Yes, you do. You are dismissed. Jarlsen, you stay. Eleni, my draught, please."

"Of course, Wisdom." Moving to the corner of the room, the young woman took a pinch of powder from an open dish and added it to a porcelain cup, then poured hot water over it. As she did so, the seven dismissed filed out and the old man turned to the one he had commanded to stay--a man in his early thirties with hot, restless eyes and a lifelike tattoo of a screaming hawk on both temples.

"The West is restless, Jarlsen."

The hawk-tattooed man spread his hands wide in a placating gesture. "It is always restless, Autark."

"Yes."

A long pause; the old man pursed his lips and nodded, as if falling asleep. The young woman returned and offered him the cup; draining it at one gulp, he coughed and continued.

"Always restless, but now more than ever. They think me weak, Jarlsen. The Isfahani hate me more than most, the Jarenberg fear me more than most, the Ystrangr are always thinking of their own aggrandizement. Send agents. Find out their plans. Bind the Thott and Sehestad to us with promises, and keep me informed. When the time comes..."

The old man make a gesture, and the porcelain cup exploded, one fragment cutting Jarlsen's cheek as he started back. Collecting himself, he made a seated bow and looked up to meet Hazlik's eyes.

"I hear and obey, Autark."

"Good. Go."

They were not human.

We would, at least, not call them human if they lived among us now. We might say "elf" or "eft" or "faery", or some other word meaning "not like us". But, like the folk we now call elves, they were very like us…enough so that their women could, and did, bear children to the First Men who followed the Iron Emperor from Vaasa to this place and took wives of the race they had conquered. When we consider the works of that vanished people, we marvel that any nation of such might could be overthrown. Some say that it was the steel they wore and wielded which gave the First Men the victory over the fey-folk, some that it was the Iron Faith that strengthened them, still others that it was the strength, the cunning, and the magecraft of the Nameless King, the Four-Colored Phoenix, that made it possible (and not a few hint that he was himself of the race his followers conquered, a convert to the True Faith whose perfection of obedience made him an avatar of the Iron God). Be that as it may, they swept aside a greater nation than any known since; they were men of might, men of renown, the like of whom is no longer seen in a world grown weak and faithless.

It is that admixture of iron and gold, strength and magecraft, which has formed us; though their blood runs thin at this remove, it is a thread binding us to that past time, when these high halls and deep delves were held by those tall, dark, gold-eyed magicians whom we now call the Vossath Nor.

We the Isfahani, who have made our homes in the halls of the West in unbroken line from Nebuch al-Spahan, Companion of the Iron Emperor, and his lady Kaliarissa Alliantaer Laenrech, are among those who in whom that blood runs strongest. It is not uncommon for those of our house to be born with gold eyes, so like those of the lion, the eagle, or that hybrid of the two that symbolizes our house; there has at least one in a generation since our first days. My father is one such; my eldest brother is another.

Cyrus and I were not so fortunate, but there are other legacies to which we are heirs.

One night in early spring, five years before my head was shaved and I became a man, I awoke to find my breath clouding the air; one star, very bright and low, shone at the window, and I was certain that someone had called my name. Leaving my bed I went to the window and looked out to the horizon, where a thin red line of light on the mountain peaks showed the beginning of daybreak. I had sat there for some minutes in a sort of waking dream when I saw from the corner of my eye that there was someone sitting at the edge of my bed, someone tall and dark and with eyes like two gold coins. I turned to look directly at her (I knew—I do not know how—that she was a woman), but could not see her. Only when I turned away again could I see her, at the very edge of my vision.

I sat very still, partly from fright, partly embarrassed, partly because I sensed that she would be offended if I were to address her without permission. After a moment she spoke.

“What is your name, child?”

Her voice was deep and resonant, even in the almost-whisper in which she had spoken.

I had to try three times to speak before I could produce an audible answer. “I am Darius Isfahani, Lady.”

I sensed rather than saw her nod.

Curiosity, that bane of cats, drove me to question her in turn. “Are…are you…what is your name, Lady?”

“You would call me Kaliarissa Alliantaer Laenraech yf-Al-Spahan, child,” she replied. I think she was surprised—not at the question, but that she had decided to answer it—though I cannot say why I thought so, or if I was correct to think so.

“But, please. Lady. Aren’t you…” After a long pause I got the word out. “Dead?”

She made a motion with her hands and I knew she was offended.

“Please, Lady, I’m sorry. My mother is dead, and I…”

I wept, as miserable as only a child who knows he must not weep can be. As if hearing my thought, she said, “You may weep, Darius. You may weep for your lost mother. Such a thing is worthy of grief, if anything is among the sons of men.”

She sighed, and continued. “I am your mother, too, Darius. You know this? Fifty times or more removed.”

“Yes. You’re not down…with the other ladies and their lords.”

“Because I’m not dead.”

“Yes. I thought…maybe they had lost you.”

At this she laughed, a sound I cannot forget, and do not even wish to forget—though I have often wished that I had never heard it.

“I am not lost, child. That is why I am here.” She patted the sheepskin she sat on laid over my bed. “Come. Your brother sleeps like a good child. You must join him.”

“I am a bad child. Father says so.”

She shrugged. “You must be good now. Come.”

I did as I was bid, coming to where I had seen her sitting (I could not see her now, except perhaps the gleam of those golden eyes) and sliding beneath the cover. I closed my eyes and tried very hard to sleep, and I thought perhaps she sang to me, a long song without words, like the breaking of waves on the beach.

When I woke again it was full daylight and my brother was pulling my ear and commanding me to come with him to breakfast. I thought of telling him then, but it was too strange and new. I wanted to keep it in my heart and think on it before I spoke of it to anyone.

Now it has been twenty-one years, and I write it for the first time. I remember it as clearly now as I did then. When you ask what I know of the Vossath Nor, I must say, that is what I know, be it much or little—that they knew us once, and some, at least, know us still.

The konductor Araamssen, who has stood at this post every day with his longspear bound in iron and his bronze half-mask covering his lower face for much, much longer than Darius has been alive, smiles—his mouth is hidden, of course, but his eyes show it clearly enough—and steps aside. Only the konductors and the Isfahani may descend these stairs unaccompanied; even the Autark, when he has come (twice in fifty years, and may the Lawgiver decree no third visit) has not stood alone at the Well of Stars, among the past masters of the Rjodrbergholt and their ladies.

Darius does not, and indeed cannot, think how strange it is to see his ancestors seated in the niches where they have their final rest, looking down on the Well, their skins stretched over mannequins of holly-wood, their eyes gemstones, so that they seem to sit alive and silent in consideration of this last mystery; it is all he knows of death, and it is more than enough. He comes here often, and it is the only place he never goes with Cyrus. He knows that Cyrus comes here, too, though he suspects it is for different reasons than his own; Darius has never been very interested in the Well, and spares it no more than a glance now, the slow lights playing over the ink-black surface as they always do. Xerxes comes more often than either of them, for reasons Darius does not know. Nezar is almost never here; Father comes often, but never before sundown.

When Darius comes again, it will be for reasons other than the one he has now. A child may run to his mother for comfort without shame; a man cannot.

She is seated well back in her niche, as if unwilling to put herself forward for scrutiny; a trumpet vine blooms at her right temple, vines grow along her arms, her eyes are two pieces of pure green jade, and around her navel are four leaves of holly and four berries red as blood: four sons born alive to Mariasha yf-Isfahani Vinheim. It is a blasphemy to tattoo a corpse, but his father had forced old Yarek to write the last two on her skin; she was still warm, and therefore there was no sin, that was what Father said, and no-one can easily resist one of Father’s commands. That is the story which Darius learned; he has no idea how or when. Surely neither Father nor Yarek would have told him…Nezar, perhaps, because he is the only one who really remembers her.

Touching her hand, Darius crouches and leans his dark-blonde head against her thigh. “Today I am a man, mother,” he whispers. “At noon they will begin the ceremony. The diviner came two weeks ago, and he has been watching us and asking questions. I think he doesn’t like me. Actually, I think he doesn’t like either of us. Or Father, much. He’s a Heron, mother…what do you think my totem will be? Do you think I’ll be a Griffin, like Father? Xerxes says Toad, but he is just mean.”

A scrape, and Darius leaps up and turns to see Father looking down at him. Shocked into silence, he stands staring at the swordstorm tattooed on Father’s chest and waits for him to speak…to ask what he is playing at, why he was touching the silk sarong which must surely be replaced if handled regularly, to promise a beating for having come.

Father is silent too, and after a long time Darius looks up.

Father is crying.

It is the only time in his life, before or since, he has seen such a thing, and it is far more disorienting (and therefore frightening) than any promised punishment.

Father finally nods toward the door of the great vault, and Darius bows and walks quickly away, only running when he has rounded the corner and is (probably) out of earshot.

That is the only moment in Darius’ life that has given him reason to believe his father loves him, and for that and other reasons he would, if asked, say it is the most important thing that has ever happened to him.

Forbearance Red Diligence, Year of the Displacer Beast

Renhalt and Vasili each won one game of dragonchess that night. Six hours after his friend had retired, Vasili was still in the middle of his third game.

"Time for bed," Leila prodded.

"I'm almost done. I've learned three new ways out of the Gansk maneuver, and I think I can still win."

"You'll win either way, won't you? You're playing both sides."

"It's the best way to learn--it ensures both players are equally talented." He moved gold's elemental to the subterranean level to threaten red's basilisk.

"Or equally twitchy. You can't be playing your best at the witching hour."

"You forget I once went four days without sleep." Red basilisk retreated to freeze gold thief.

"I forget nothing. By day two I was propping you up in church, and by four you were trying to fly."

"I'm not ready to go. Maybe I won't sleep at all tonight. Every other day should be fine." Gold griffon to the air level--but which position?

Leila swelled to full size. "Vasili, that's enough! You can't skip sleep now; people need you at your best!"

"Not yet!"

"Now!"

Fuming, Vasili cocked his arm to throw the griffon at her. At the last moment he remembered it was Renhalt's set, and replaced the piece with a shaking hand. They stared each other down for a moment.

"He's bound to c-come tonight."

"Then we'd better go get ready," Leila replied cooly.

Defeated, Vasili muttered the first incantation to reduce himself to the height of a child, and then the second to enhance Leila's speed. Moments later they were streaking breakneck out into the night, and moments after that, into the mines. Vasili clung to her with his entire body, burying his face in her fur. He knew her eyes would have to serve them both for this journey--he trusted her as he always had, with his life.

After several minutes racing switchback through the mines, Leila slowed and stopped, and Vasili lit a pebble with his hand and let his eyes adjust. They were in an abandoned section many years neglected, but one of many they had scoped out for such use over the years. Leila dashed away for a minute and returned with his bedroll. There were enough loose rocks and mining tools to rig three deadfall traps, and while Leila put the finishing touches on those, Vasili used a simple cantrip to collect all the loose dirt into a single pile and form it into a bed.

Vasili cocked his head and listened. "Water. There's runoff nearby." His eyes locked on Leila, who nodded.

"It's a good spot. I figured we ought to be especially prepared, in case he comes tonight."

His eyes narrowed. "Prepared for what? You've always insisted the Scissorman was done with me, that I needed to move on and stop hiding." He turned to walk down the passage a little ways to find the water running down the walls about seventy feet away from his bed. Examining the flow, he wedged a hand-sized splinter of wood into the rock so that the water sprayed out into the passage.

Leila trotted up to him gingerly. "I know what I've said. I wonder...if this isn't about him anymore. Maybe this is what you need. If this is the price to be paid to get you sleeping regularly, I'll pay it."

He dropped one hand to her head, but said nothing. After several moments of silence, he walked to the bedroll and climbed inside. She curled up beside him, and he wrapped himself around her for warmth. Whatever conversation they had from here on out was entirely telepathic, taking turns completing each other's thoughts before they were fully formed, as exhaustion nipped at them both.

Minutes later, sleep finally claimed him, and as it did so, Vasili's arms held only empty air.

December 774, Dementlieu
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He had his hand pressed to his lips, a gesture meant to maintain his composure. In his case, it was to keep himself from crying. Across from him, his sister sat with her hands folded in her lap, the picture of perfect poise. She still had the spirit left in her to be angry. Unlike their father, she was rarely rude; much like him, it didn’t matter whether she was or not. Anger roiled around her like a wave of heat. She was nothing but graciousness and etiquette, and people cringed from her like a whipped dog.

Richard felt sorry for the dark-skinned woman who sat between them, who had only done as she had been told, and had so unwittingly fallen into this emotional pit. She looked at Richard uncomfortably, uncertain of what, if any, actions she was allowed to take.

“What is it?” Richard finally asked.

“It” was a small spike of crystal, not unlike the quartz that Cerise kept scattered around her room, faded blue in color. Richard could hear the voices again, when he looked at it closely - beautiful, heartachingly beautiful voices, ones that made him want to scream and tear at his head and run until he couldn’t hear them anymore. Unlike most times, they were speaking to him clearly. Clear enough to make out words, not enough to understand their meaning. His mind strained fruitlessly against his incomprehension… he swallowed hard, and banished them.

“An… an artifact,” the woman, Kiri, said. She was speaking to them through a spell, not knowing the local tongue otherwise. “I found it buried, and… we have studied it. At the Red Tower. We still are not entirely sure of its nature. It is-- they think it is Vossath Nor. You know the Vossath Nor?”

Richard shook his head.

“The people of Hazlan, before the coming of the Iron Lord,” Kiri explained. “Their magic is lost, but their blood still remains, among the Mulani.”

“And the Red Academy let you take it with you, when you left the country?” Alice asked. The Rashemani woman cringed. Alice raised an eyebrow, and dropped it.

“Can-can… do you know any-anything of it beyond that?” Richard asked, leaning forward in his chair. “Please, any-any hint of what it-it might have done…”

“It dispels things, sometimes. Small things, large things. It is not a stable, disciplined magic, I lack the talent to make it so,” Kiri said, looking dully down at the floor. “But it sometimes dispels what others cannot. That is why I thought to try it.”

“Might I see you use it, if it is no taxation or harm to you?” Alice asked. Richard glanced away, briefly. His sister’s magical talents were a topic the two of them tended to avoid.

“Yes…” Kiri lifted the crystal, and it began to glow. It wasn’t a vibrant light, a dusty, faded blue, perfectly matching the color of the Rashemani’s eyes. The voices were speaking again, the voice, loudly, enough that Richard could just begin to touch on understanding...

“Richard!” Alice cut through his thoughts, in alarm.

“What?” Richard blinked. He was standing.

Alice blinked as well, and frowned. She looked at Kiri, who looked blankly back. If any of them had said or done anything, they couldn’t remember.

Richard slowly sank back down into the chair, looking over at the bed next to him. There had been no reaction from the man lying on it, but then, that had been expected.

The young man reached out, and slipped his hand into his uncle’s non-responsive one. Captain Edmund Harris had been a big man, before coming here, as tall as Richard and weighing thirty pounds more, easily. He was still tall, but he had lost weight, easily half of what he once had. His body was gaunt, the muscle long since gone, and his skin hung loosely on the skeletal frame. His brown hair was now mostly grey, and thinner than it should have been on a man his age. His eyes were closed, as they had been for the last thirteen years. At least, until yesterday. So they said.

“Did-did-did he-he say anything? When-when he woke?” Richard asked, fighting to keep his breath under control.

“A strange word. Menetnashte,” Kiri replied.

Alice abruptly stood and left the room. Richard held up a calming hand to the Rashemani mage, eyes following his sister as she went.
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Her eyes were red when he met her on the street. They knew each other well enough not to mention it, both pretending they didn’t see it. She’d caught him with tears in his eyes often enough, though she had more of a gentleman’s pride in these matters, where he would weep more freely and be scorned for it.

“It’s-it’s-it is settled,” he said, voice tired.

“It is not settled,” Alice replied, with her steely temper. “It shall not be settled, if this is meant to be the way of things from now on! I should consider it no wonder he went back to sleep, if he woke to find nothing but strangers!”

“Cerise said she-she will send for us, when it-it happens again,” he said, rubbing at the side of his beard and bowing his head. “We mustn't-we mustn’t… father didn’t-didn’t know it-it might actually, actually work. And we, I-I-I haven’t… I-I haven’t lately…”

His voice stopped. There were too many words he could have ended on, weren’t there? Looked? Asked? Cared?

Alice turned away from him, folding her arms across her chest. Richard blew out a breath and looked out on the street, ignoring the fact he could see her crying.

“Oh Richard,” she said, breathing in through her grief. “He didn’t even bother to tell us.”

Richard was silent. There had been a time when this would have given them hope, made them happy, but that had been a long, long time ago.

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Universality Grey Obedience, Year of the Alzabo (New Year's Day, June 21st, 775)

Fireworks boomed in the sky over Ramulai, swirling clouds of red, white and green sparks enacting a dramatic rendition of the battle in which the Autark had finally subjugated the forces of chaos and bent the Writhing Host to his will. Such a battle had never actually taken place, but, setting aside trifling details of factuality, it was an impressive show, a genuinely artful mixture of evocation, illusion, and alchemy.

“I am pleased,” Hazlik declared, removing the lenses that allowed him to view the spectacle from the windows of Veneficus. “It is skillfully done.”

“It should be,” Eleni returned tartly, handing him a cup. “I have had them drilling for months.”

Smirking, the ancient mage drained the cup to the dregs and handed it back to his apprentice. “All of this to amuse an old man, daughter?”

“To amuse an old man, and many others beside. To keep an number of potential troublemakers busy, to hearten our supporters, to overawe the foreigners with Hazlani magecraft, to remind the Church why it supports you and our enemies what forces you have at your disposal,” Eleni replied, smiling crookedly. “Worthy of some time and effort, don’t you think, father?”

Hazlik smiled briefly in return but did not reply, tracing invisible runes on the top of a small table with one long nail. The liver-spotted hand with its ropy blue veins had a slight tremor at rest, but in motion its movements were still deft and delicate. After a minute or so of silence he roused himself and said, “So. A new year, daughter. The year of the Alzabo.”

“Law and Light bless you in this New Year, father,” his apprentice replied, a dangerously ironic glint in her eye. “I think it rather fitting that this year will be represented by an eater of carrion.”

“Yes…” Hazlik replied, looking at Eleni with an odd expression…almost a guilty expression, if the cruel lines around mouth and forehead had been better adapted to such a look. “Quite appropriate. And, if one believes the astrologers, quite advantageous.”

Eleni shrugged. “I’d say it’s more a matter of striking while the iron is hot, but you would know better than I, father.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hazlik replied. “You’ve learned a great deal, daughter. I think you’ll make a worthy…successor.”

“None of that!” Eleni barked, shaking her finger under her master’s nose. “You will outlive me, and everyone down there in Ramulai, father. I know it.”

Sinking into himself, Hazlik mustered another weak smile. “Not if your shrewish ways drive me to an early grave, woman.”

At this both laughed, Eleni loudly and freely, Hazlik in a strained and wheezing chuckle.

“How long, father?” she asked, almost in the voice of a child asking for a bedtime story.

“The day of the Alzabo, in the year of the Alzabo,” he replied. “Then, and no sooner.”

“Do you think any of them suspect?”

Hazlik shrugged. “No-one who matters. Even if they did, what then? The Voss have no talent for action, the Dannouth are pinned down and weak, the Shadisanet think they control me. The Isfahani are far away, poor, and friendless. The Paave…the Paave might prove difficult, if he suspected. But he thinks I am in my dotage, and the Church will not rise against me without his word. We are safe, daughter, if we go with care. Eleven more months will see us through.”

The Black Citadel, Bergovitsa, Nova Vaasa
Universality Black Obedience (11 July 775)

“So what exactly did you find there, Jernspogmaler Abtor? The Slaves? The Penitents? Something else?”

“I am not certain myself, Your Zeal. Not being certain, I hesitate to say.”

A brusque gesture from the Grand Inquisitor of the Church of the Lawgiver, indicating that the Abtor’s uncertainties are not to be considered further.

“I suspect that a impromptu attempt—a rather clever one—was made to make a celebration of the rites of the Slaves of Iblis appear to be those of the Penitents of Yutow.”

“Explain your reasons, please.”

“The Thott—I mean my nephew Yarek, the head of the household—fell into bad company while in Ramulai. I suspect…that is not to the point. His closest friends were drawn from a group of students and mages of the Academy who were known to be friendly with members of the cell of the Slaves of Iblis whom we rooted out two years ago. It was decided to place an agent in the Thott household when he returned home after his father’s death. That agent—whose identity has been revealed, unfortunately, and who must now be moved—believed that his...mentor in this evil was a Rashemani sergeant-at-arms. He had no definite proof, you understand, of her being a Slave, but he thought she had a great deal of influence over my nephew and a surprising number of others. She was also tasked with the maintenance and defense of the tunnel system beneath the Helholt, giving her obvious opportunities to find and use places which would be ideal for secret rituals. He himself found…things…in the tunnels which tended to confirm his suspicions. He discovered that some unusual activity was to take place on the night of the New Year involving this sergeant and others.”

“Including this girl you spoke of.”

“Yes. She has no memory of what happened that night after nightfall. None.”

“I see. You suspect?...”

“Of course. She is, however, untouched and unharmed…seemingly without any ill effect at all, save the loss of memory.”

“Very unlike the Slaves.”

“Very. Not so very much like the Penitents, either.”

“And how do the Penitents come into it, again?”

“The ringleader—the sergeant I spoke of—was found in the tunnels. When she saw my men approaching, she swore a final vow to Yutow and cut her own throat. On further investigation, we found a shrine to Yutow and forty-two people, Rashemani and Mulani, a handful of Nova Vaasans, one Barovian and two paka, each of whom confessed their adoration of Yutow and threw themselves on the mercy of the Inquisition.”

“No Valachani.”

The tall, wiry Mulani bows in acknowledgement. “Your Zeal is perspicacious, as always. No Valachani.”

“What did you do with them?”

“Branded the Rashemani and the foreigners. Send the paka to the Tables. The Mulani we noted and fined.”

“You wish to investigate further, I take it.”

“Yes, Your Zeal, I do.”

“Very good. You have my permission to do so.”

“Thanks you very much, Your Zeal. Law and Light guide you.”

“Likewise, Jernspogmaler Abtor.”

Alone in his room, Vasili closed the door firmly and set his bag against it. It would not bar the door, but would offer enough resistance to give an intruder pause and warn him of their approach. He kicked off his left shoe and traced a circle on the floor with his toe. Though there was hardly enough dust to see the circle, his eyes locked to it with practiced ease, staring at it until it stood out from the floor. He held still--even held his breath--so as not to change his perspective and ruin the vision, and allowed the other features of the room to blur. The circle rose up further from the ground, darkening inside, sinking inward like sand through an hourglass to reveal Leila's closed eyelids. The eyes opened, locked their gaze onto his, and they held each other steady as the surroundings fell away. Finally, like a sculpture freed from stone, Leila groaned with relief and stepped out of that other-space into the room.

Panting, she looked around the room, then questioningly at her master. Vasili said nothing.

Leila waited, arched an eyebrow. <You're going to make me ask?>

<We're having proper conversations now, remember? Ask, and I'll answer.>

Leila sighed. <Where are we?>

<We're in the Homweyz Aerie, on the way to Forfarmax. The rockslide prevented us from going back the other way.>

Leila stiffened. <How many days has it been?> she asked archly, trying to keep her tone light.

<Four. I told you, I needed some time to think about our relationship.>

<I...you-you said...I didn't know you'd actually spend it without me! What if something happened?! There are bandits in these hills!>

<I had good company. And no one knew I was without my escort.>

<...the illusion? You held a silent illusion of me from sunup to sundown? And no one suspected a thing?>

<I told them you weren't in a talkative mood. In case of melee, I was prepared to make you "invisible" before summoning some other creature to help you out. I had the whole routine worked out, I think the others would have bought it--they were fully convinced of your presence. They would have easily convinced any bandit that they were about to be pounced on by an invisible lynx.>

<Not talkative...the thing makes no sound! I'm quiet, but not that quiet!>

<I had you scout ahead and around, being very stealthy. You have quite a reputation now for stealth.>

Leila sat back on her haunches, glowering at him. <...really.>

Vasili nodded. <And now, you're going to live up to it. Scouting mission, just over a mile. Those pesky bandits, perhaps.>

<Really.>

<No one knows you have been absent for four days. You will not disabuse them of this.>

<...I...> Leila choked. <Vasili...darling...Master, have I not served you well? Have I been so terrible to you, that we cannot ever be as we were? Why do you speak to me like this?>

Vasili pulled the length of fine chain from his sarong and looked at it for several moments. <Leila...we spoke during your secret healing about how things might change. I've spent the last few days reviewing those ideas. I think many of them have merit. I just needed to be alone with my thoughts until...>

<...Until you knew the thoughts were totally yours. You doubted your decisions, because-->

<Because they sounded like your decisions! Because our thoughts coincide so much....>

As one, they finished the thought. <Like they are doing right now.>

After a half-heartbeat pause in their instantaneous relay of thoughts, Leila spoke first.

<So...you healed me in secret, only to send me out on another mission that will diminish my stamina? Over a mile away, that's going to cut me down to almost nothing. Better get Lena and Richard and Avram ready with the healing, so that no one knows you can do it yourself.> The bitterness to her thoughts trickled down to the back of his mouth.

Vasili nodded. <That facade is over. You appeared multiple times before the inquisition fully healed, which will help to disguise your role in the deception. As fate would have it, Richard and Lena were concerned about my inability to heal you, and gave me an excellent gift--a spell to heal eidolons. I'll be adding it to my own repertoire at the next opportunity, and we can stop making these public displays of healing to show that I cannot do so.>

Leila let out a purring sigh. <What a relief. That stone was agonizingly slow. What do you plan to do, sell it, fix it?>

<Not sure. I'm not in any kind of rush.>

Leila sat up, leaned forward to look Vasili in the eye. <You're hiding something. You have another con to pull with it.>

Vasili's eyes narrowed. <Those are my thoughts, and I'll keep them. That con is one I'm loathe to consider, but it may be necessary. Until then, we keep the stone, until we are certain we don't need it anymore.>

Leila nodded slowly. His thoughts, her thoughts. This was how it had to be. She trotted to the door and pulled the bag aside to leave, when his thoughts found hers and pulled her back a moment.

<That reminds me. Being silent in the field, "you" never properly thanked Lena and Richard for their thoughtfulness. You should do so without giving away that you have been absent for four days.>

Leila paused. <Is that an order, Master?>

<...No. Not an order. Just some advice. The kind you used to give to me...which I would be happy to receive again."

Leila nodded, and shrunk down to small size to ride on her master's shoulder as he returned to the group.

UNIVERSALITY GREY OBEDIENCE, YEAR OF THE ALZABO (21 June 774)

The Game Master 12:30 pm
The baggage has arrived from the Burning Scroll; with the assistance of a guide (a redhead--she must have Forfarian blood) and a porter (making it quite an expedition, really) Lena has gone up three longish flights of stairs lit by magicked torches and occasionally pierced by arrow slits to her room, a small but pleasantly lit space with a low divan for sleeping and a rather fine carpet. There is a small, high window--no glass. "If you need anything, you ring the bell," the serving girl says. "Or you can tell me now."

Dismissed she disappears down the hall, closing the door behind her.ll




Vasili 12:36 pm
Leaving the revelry below in the main areas, Leila sniffs her way up the stairs following Lena's scent, and then guide her master to the location telepathically--it would not do to have him ask directions to her room!
Once at the door, Vasili turns to look at Leila for confidence, but she slips into her smaller form and slinks back into the shadows, preparing to stand guard.

Vasili 12:39 pm
Knowing she can hear his thoughts, he curses her fickle friendship and looks back at the door.
Taking a deep breath, he allows his shoulders to droop and his eyes to narrow, dropping the halfwit facade. This was Lena, not Cattia. She already knew about the man beneath. That was why he was here...

Vasili 12:41 pm
*knock knock*
||

Lena 12:44 pm
The door opened of its own accord, as tended to occur among wizards, even poor ones like Elena von Zarovich. "Come in Vasya." The Barovian's clear, musical voice beckoned him inwards.

Vasili 12:44 pm
Vasya...so she still used his pet name, after all that had come between them...

Lena 12:47 pm
Over the years of their correspondance, Lena had neglected to mention certain things -- her looks being among them. She was currently seated at a dressing chamber, her elegant gown replaced by a simple, grey shift, and her hair loose. She glanced up at Vasili through the mirror and made a tiny gesture, the door closed behind him.
Ushka was curled up in a ball of russet fur on the bed. She twitched an ear Vasili's way. ||
[ http://www.ramonabadescu.it/images/sbook/nbook036.jpg ] ||

Vasili 12:50 pm
Vasili's eyes darted nervously towards the door behind him as it closed, but only for an instant. In a room with Elena von Zarovich, few other things could hold his gaze for long.

"Hello, Lena," he breathed, his voice suddenly dry.
His eyes flick to Ushka for a moment. "She's a masterwork," he murmurs after clearing his throat. "We...you...did a fine job on her."
||

Lena 12:53 pm
Ushka stretched and yawned, aware that people were talking about her. The world's best pastry-thief was content to bask in admiration at the moment, as she didn't go and bother Vasili for cuddling.
"Thank you. Coming from you, that means quite a bit." Lena said, gathering up her hair in a knot and looking critically at the mirror. "I'd ask if I should wear my hair up or down, but I doubt this is a question the Mulani have a stance on." She flashed a dazzling smile at Vasili. ||

Vasili 12:58 pm
Vasili chuckles. "If I hear Cattia compare you to her little sister one more time, I'm going to lose my temper. And then my job," he adds. "I know she's supposed to hate you in public, but she needs better material."

Vasili 1:02 pm
After a long pause, he continues, "I think you may be a threat to Mulani culture. After seeing your hair, Mulani girls are going to refuse the blade." He shakes his head in mock sorrow. "For the sake of peace between our countries, you must keep this visit brief."
||

Lena 1:05 pm
"Is there a particular reason Cattia's decided to despise me in public?" Lena asked mildly, abandoning her efforts to tame those unruly black curls and instead turning around in the chair, resting her arms on its back. "You can sit down somewhere, you know." ||

Vasili 1:10 pm
"Oh, that? We came up with that, you know, she and I. Cattia's public persona is that she is tagging along on this trip for social reasons. Publicly, I'm the emissary and she's here for the sights. Privately, she's actually the one representing the Jarenberg. So we figured it was most consistent with her public persona to throw people off the scent by making the two of you look like rivals."
He finally registers her request, and finds a cushion.

Vasili 1:14 pm
"It's imperative, you, see, that Cattia be seen as an outsider among us, even in her family's business. No one is supposed to know how much her uncle has trusted her with his secrets." ||

Lena 1:17 pm
"There's more to young Cattia than meets the eye, I take it?" Lena said, arching one perfect eyebrow. ||

Vasili 1:22 pm
"Much more," Vasili agrees, then stops short and looks around nervously. His eyes come to rest on the small, high window and he swallows hard. Time to change the subject...

"We have much in common, she and I," he continues. "Public facades very different from our private lives. I'm sorry...I never told you. I really did tell you true things, if not the whole of the truth. When you're me, the whole truth can get so deviously complicated." ||

Lena 1:25 pm
"Well. Let's be fair. I didn't tell you the whole of the truth either." Lena said with a wry smile. She smiled a lot, this woman from across the border. "I doubt anyone does, in letters. There's always embarassing little details you don't want to let the other person know."
"Mind you, your omissions are definitely more..." Lena paused, pursing her lips as she sought out the word and failed to find it. "Well. Certainly more something than I expected." ||

Vasili 1:32 pm
Vasili nods at the idea of everyone leaving details out of letters. "I suppose...by leaving out the worst, we actually imagine a better lives for ourselves."

Vasili 1:34 pm
"Have I disappointed you?" he says in mock seriousness, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He raises his voice into falsetto. "Hello, Vasili! Goodness, I expected you to be taller...and saner." ||

Lena 1:38 pm
"I think I'm too confused by Vestrdyrr to be disappointed yet." Lena said brightly. "Who am I but a country girl from Barovia, unused to people pretending to be borderline lunatics or teenagers being political emissaries. Kartakass was more comprehensible, and they choose their leaders by singing." ||

Vasili 1:48 pm
"Oh, I can't believe Vestrdyrr is your worst assignment yet. You navigated Borca just fine, with all its poison politics. Cousin Oton still sends me your tickets. I saved them after we...I...lost track of you." He falters for a moment and looks at the floor, begging her not to pick up on that.

"I would have brought them with me, but I didn't know it was you I'd be meeting with until we were halfway here. There was just enough time to explain the situation to Cattia and Renhalt." ||

Lena 1:54 pm
There was a quiet moment as Lena simply looked at him, her eyes two points of darkness in the otherwise well-lit chamber. Then it passed, and Lena continued quietly. "Vasya... what are you doing here? I wasn't told about you at all. Only that I'd be meeting with emissaries of House Isfahani and Jarenberg. That's Cattia and... Altan?" ||

Vasili 2:02 pm
"Lena...I serve house Jarenberg. While Cattia is their official agent for you to meet with, I'm here to assist her.
You must understand that houses of the Landsraad play deadly games, and people have to pick a side. I side with the Jarenberg. They have been good to me."||

Lena 2:04 pm
"I can see you're flourishing." Lena said dryly. She rested her chin on her hands, atop the back of the chair. "Thus the eccentric act? So people don't think you dangerous?"
"What can you tell me about Cattia?" ||

Vasili 2:14 pm
Vasili shrugs. "I told you the truth in my letters: I lost my mind as a child, and had a long, slow recovery. What I left out was that other people--especially my father--failed to see my recovery for what it was. Eventually I just stopped trying to prove I wasn't a halfwit anymore. I just...let them carry on. And then, yes, I started playing the part up a little, once I saw the advantages to it."

At the mention of Cattia, Vasili stiffens a little. "Would you mind if Leila joined us? And maybe Ushka needs to go out and sniff around? And maybe...I could throw up a warding spell or two? We are alone in your room after all. Would hate to cause a scandal." ||

Lena 2:18 pm
Lena considered this for a moment, and then she nodded. "Of course. Ushka, make yourself useful." The Barovian smiled at Vasili. "And consider Leila to have a standing invitation whenever I ask to see you."
The tiny little fox got to her feet and stretched, then began to sniff about. Ushka had a stomachache, but she still had better senses than anyone else in the area. ||

Vasili 2:25 pm
When the door was open to let the fox out, only the most perceptive onlooker would have notice a thin feline form zip through the crack and into the room at the same time. Having kept careful watch outside, Leila now followed Vasili's mental command to check out the window. Hopping up to the ledge on her second try, Leila darted her head out, sniffed the air, and swiveled her ears, while her master wove a quick warning hex on the staircase.

Vasili 2:39 pm
After ensuring there were no eavesdroppers, Vasili sat down facing Lena. "Did you know that Cattia is the only adult Jarenberg who does not usually carry a weapon on her in public? Cattia shares the viewpoint of other nobles, that openly carrying weapons is gauche and barbaric, and that this habit is an embarrassment to her family.

"The truth is, Cattia is never unarmed. She's trained in the darkest arts of the Black Tower, including how to cut with her hands, and she can imbue small objects with killing force from a fair distance, by imbuing them with fragments of her own life force. Her ability to do this, the training that allows her to, and her willingness to do so for her family, are all desperate secrets. Cattia is her uncle's emissary, and also his best weapon." ||

Lena 2:41 pm
In a way, Lena wasn't surprised. She would have been more surprised if there weren't something special about Cattia, since she was to be the Jarenberg's emissary. In any case, there was a decided absence of gasps of horror or shock on Lena's face. "Remind me to be very polite to her in the future, then."
"And as an emissary? Does she have diplomatic training?" Lena asked, her expression thoughtful. ||

Vasili 2:45 pm
"I...don't know all about that part of her training, but she keeps secrets well, obviously, and she has been diplomatic enough in dealing with other such secrets. Mine, as well as her own."||

Lena 8:46 pm
Lena made an affirmative sound somewhere in the back of her throat. Something was going on behind her eyes, though what was a secondary question. She laughed then, softly. "I suppose I'll have to find out the hard way. I sometimes wish Barovia had a few academies of dark arts. Being packed off to the University of Dementlieu really does not compare." ||

Vasili 8:54 pm
"Oh, Dementlieu has trained you very well to deal with Hazlan," Vasili said with a smirk. "It's all about hiding a dagger behind your smile, saying one thing with your words and another with your tone, keeping your friends close and your enemies closer."
||

Lena 8:55 pm
"Vasya, I've tried to hold a dagger. It ends poorly for everyone involved." Lena wrinkled her nose. She tilted her head to one side, looking at him with those dark eyes of hers. "Do you like it here?" ||

Vasili 9:08 pm
Vasili bit his lip and gave an apologetic smile. "I have no basis for comparison. The world you talk about...it's a beautiful world. I hope to visit it someday."

His eyes drop to the floor and he leans back before looking up again.

"But this is the world I live in. I've found a way to be happy it it, which is more than anyone could have expected, considering my childhood. If my happiness comes at a cost, it is one that can only be reckoned by comparing it with hypothetical fantasies of how my life would have been different. And fantasizing is something that I can't afford to do."||

Lena 9:14 pm
"Some people live on fantasies their whole lives." Lena said, a soft, maddening smile on her ruby lips now. Whatever had happened between them before, she was shoving it to one side. It wasn't important, not here and now, not in Helholt. There would be time for recriminations later.
"When this is all over..." Lena cast her eyes to one side. "You could travel, see the world. See what other lives you could make. You're a competent soul. I could help you. It doesn't have to be a fantasy." ||

Vasili 9:21 pm
Vasili's heart was in his throat. Was it all behind them so quickly? All the anger, the terrible things they both said? "Well, I suppose I spoke too soon. I do allow myself to fantasize, but not about what might have been. I only fantasize about what will be, in the future. The undiscovered country, I think one of your Kartakan friends called it. And the future you describe, that's one I would relish."

"That

Vasili 9:24 pm
's the future we're building now. If you want to join me in it, help me carve a better place for the Jarenbergs. I will rise on their wings to join you in the West."
||

Lena 9:29 pm
"A genuine patriot, Vasya?" Lena smiled, and she suddenly stood up from her chair, the grey shift clinging to her form. She walked over to the window, looking out across the Hazlani landscape. "I suppose so am I. What does this future look like, with it's better place for the Jarenbergs?" ||

Vasili 9:41 pm
"Well, I'll leave the details to Cattia, Lena--I'll probably pay for divulging as much of her secrets as I have--but suffice it to say that the Jarenberg will no longer be the poorest of the Landsraad.

"I think..." he paused and his mouth twisted into a smirk again. "I think you need a project. You've done so well adapting to partial information, I'd like to give you a little more, and give you a little fun. It'll be like old times, you and me, playing mischief with the monks, remember that?"||

Lena 9:43 pm
"I won't tell her if you don't." Lena smiled, though the look that she sent Vasili made it quite clear that this conversation was not over, merely put off. From her letters, Lena had made it quite clear that she was a Barovian patriot herself, loyal to the Count, but more than that, she was also a political thinker with an idealistic streak in her. Still, that could wait until she'd found her feet.
"And what little project will you give me, Vasya?" Lena said in an arch tone. ||

Vasili 9:50 pm
"I need someone who is a good conversationalist, someone who will get people talking, keep them distracted, make them guard their thoughts. The more people guard their thoughts, the easier it is to read them. Tomorrow morning, when everyone is drunk and dazed, you and I will make the rounds and gather up all their secrets like nuts after a strong breeze. What do you say?"||

Lena 9:52 pm
"I think that if I'm talking to them, their secrets are going to be the last things on their minds." Lena said, turning to Vasili and glancing pointedly down at her body. "Still, you're the expert on this. Now... how do I know you won't turn your mind-reading prowess on me?" ||

Vasili 9:57 pm
"Ah, see, didn't take too long to get your head in the game! You'll fit in just fine around here."||

Lena 9:58 pm
"Vaaaaaasyaaaaaaa......" Lena said dangerously. ||

Vasili 10:10 pm
Vasili locked gazes with her, a gaze so fierce she scarcely believed this was the same glasseyed man who had been traveling with her all day. "So what if I did? What would I find? Are you saying you have secrets you would hide from me? Now I'm curious...Lena, why are you here? Yes, I intend to read your thoughts tomorrow, when I'm reading all the rest. And I'll delve into the things you don't want me to know about, and then I'll tell the others there is nothing in you they need to fear. So now you have a little warning, for the sake of our friendship. So now give me a little warning--when I read your thoughts, and report to them that you are harmless...will I be lying? Am I going to lie to my family tomorrow, for the sake of our friendship?"

Vasili 10:16 pm
||

Lena 10:32 pm
Lena regarded the young man coolly, her eyes expressionless and yet subtly mocking at the same time. Then she smiled, and that moment of cold was gone as though it had never been, as if the sun had come out from behind the clouds. "Of course I have secrets, Vasya. Just because I trust you doesn't mean I want you to know that I think Altan Isfahani is a drunken sot, to choose just one minor example."

Lena 10:35 pm
"You may tell them that I'm here from the Count." Lena said quietly. "And that I'm to see if this idea of your family can work. Can you build a better future."
"And I'm here... because I want a better future for myself." Lena shrugged and looked away. "So there you are." ||

Vasili 10:39 pm
"I din't ask if you have secrets. I'm asking if you have any that would endanger us. I will tell them that you have no agenda here beyond what they know. I will tell them that your patriotism to Barovia is just that, and not part of a Barovian plan for conquest. I'll tell them all of that and more. Even if it is a lie. But the lie I will not tell is that I did not look into your mind.
He slumps back, exhausted with the tension of trying to express himself so she will understand. "So prepare for tomorrow, unless you would have me read your mind tonight."||

Lena 10:45 pm
"I am distinctly unenthused with this course of action." Lena said, sitting down on the cushion next to Vasili. Ushka, sensing that something was going on, managed to leap down from the bed in some loose approximation of grace and sat down in front of them. "If the Count plans conquest, he hasn't seen fit to tell me, all that I can say."
"May as well get this over with, I think." She turned to Vasili and lifted her chin. "Proceed, Vasili Boritsi." She smiled darkly. ||

Vasili 10:53 pm
Vasili blinked. "Not here...that...really? You really want me to do it here? I...Lena, I appreciate your resolve, but I wasn't serious. The spell has a limited duration, and we need to use it on as many people...as many drunken, tired, weakened people as possible. Nuts after a stiff breeze, remember? I need at least a modest collection of secrets to show for casting it, and vetting you--as much as I'm anxious to--isn't going to give me that."||

Lena 10:57 pm
"Vasya, I attended the University of Dementlieu's Arcane Sciences department." Lena said dryly. "Spells are what they call a renewable resource. Use it on me now, get a lovely night's sleep, and I'll have Ushka wake you up tomorrow morning bright and early." Possibly by having the fox taking a running jump onto Vasili's stomach. ||

Vasili 11:08 pm
Vasili blinks and stammers. "Of course, but..but there we get into opportunity cost again: I was going to use a _different_ spell tonight, to track currency that will have arrived here from the Bergholt...I've been keeping a ledger for years, but this is the furthest I've ever been able to track, and I'd really like to collect the data as soon as possible..."

He draws a sharp breath and glares at her, realizing he had lapsed into his other persona in his nervousness.


"Matter of fact, you might be able to help me with that part, too. Are you in such a hurry to have me plumb your secret thoughts? Leave it for tomorrow, when you won't know until it's over. It's better that way."||

Lena 11:17 pm
Lena gave him a look. She was, one may have observed, really very close to him. She did not however look terribly amused. "Vasya, as a matter of fact, yes, I am in a hurry. I want to get this over with. I don't want it hanging over my head." She blew out a soft breath.
"Please." ||

Vasili 11:20 pm
Vasili let out a long, slow breath. "As you wish, Lena." He mutters a few sibilant syllables and streaks an arcane sign in the air in front of him.||

Lena 11:24 pm
Lena closed her eyes and let him into her mind. ||

Vasili 11:26 pm
"Well, is suppose the quickest way to the truth is to ask, what don't you want me to know? What are you afraid I will find out, Lena?"||

Vasili 11:43 pm
"Okay, and let's have a look at your marching orders, shall we? Who gave you your instructions..."||

Vasili 11:54 pm
"Count Strahd wrote the instructions himself, but didn't deliver them--interesting. And I'm not sure what to make of this other Vasili. How long have you known him?"
||

Lena 11:56 pm
Lena tapped her fingers on the floor (these cushions were low) and gave Vasili that dangerous look again. ||

Vasili 12:01 am
"If you're so impatient, Lena, stop blocking me. I need to know the specifics of your assignment. Normally I'd say shocking things to distract you...but I like you too much. I don't like upsetting you."||

Lena 12:06 am
"I'm not trying to block you. I'm just not really used to letting strange men have a rummage in my brain." Lena said, perhaps just a touch peevishly. "There is a distinct lie back and think of Barovia element to this, you realize." ||

Vasili 12:11 am
"Well, that's one of the reasons I wanted to take you by surprise, Lena. I guess the greatest liability you present is...me. I shouldn't have told you. I should have lied to you, one of those cozy lies we all like to hear, right? 'No, I'd never read your mind, only other people.' Something like that. How about this: just tell me the orders that were written on the paper. Can you do that? I won't have to keep looking if I can get that part."||

Lena 12:17 am
"Cozy lies only help if you get me to believe them." Lena said dryly. She really needed to get one of those little rings so that this indignity would not be repeated. "In any case. In brief? My mission is to gather information. Can this plot of yours be pulled off. And who are the people and places about, and what can I discover of them?" ||

Vasili 12:19 am
"And could this information you are gathering be used for military aggression against Hazlan?"||

Lena 12:21 am
"Certainly. Most of the same information that would help a revolution would help a conquest. They're the same thing, from different angles." Lena said dryly. "But I wasn't explicitly told to scout for invasion routes, no." ||

Vasili 12:23 am
"Would you like to see Hazlan become subject to Barovia? If your Count Strahd wanted to invade, would you approve, and help occupy Hazlan they way you helped him occupy Gundarak?"||

Lena 12:30 am
"Yes." Lena said suddenly, heat in her voice. "No... I serve the Barovian state, and I'm proud of it, and I think what you have in this country is a wretched excuse for a government. I think the way people treat Rashemani here is intolerable and I think serfdom is a crime." She blew out a breath. "But I don't want to see people die, and I don't want to see you hurt, and as near as I can tell, the Jarenbergs are among the best of the lot."
"If it does come to that... yes, I would help. I couldn't refuse my Count." Lena said, then smiled wryly. "But keep in mind, that I am a terrifying trade attache. I rather doubt my skill at figuring tariff rates would be important to an occupation, but they might make life a little better if it came to that." ||

Vasili 12:41 am
Vasili blew out a breath and sank back into his cushion. "Well, I think we're due for another of our philosophical wranglings, but apart from that, I see nothing that would concern or alarm the Jarenberg, ...and even a little that would please them. Thank you, Baroness, for your candor."

Vasili 12:45 am
||

Lena 12:48 am
"You are welcome, Freiherr." Lena smiled, and then looked away. She folded her arms before her stomach and leaned forward, away from Vasili. She was quiet. ||

Vasili 12:54 am
Vasili turned away, scanning as best he could through the walls so as not to waste the remainder of the spell. As the silence between them grew, he finally decided it was up to him to break it.

"I...I suppose this wasn't what you had in mind when you invited me up. I'm just the picture of disappointment today."
||

Lena 12:57 am
"You aren't endearing Hazlan to me right now, no." Lena said quietly, shaking her head. "I've managed to go entire years without my mind being violated in Barovia." She blew out a breath. "Sorry. That was unworthy of me."
"In any case, we'll do the rounds tomorrow." Lena said. She stood up, moving away from him, and then paused to smile. "Oh, Richard and I bought you a present earlier today." ||

Vasili 1:04 am
"A present?" Vasili is taken aback. "I...Lena, this isn't right. You give me a gift, and I've given you something awful..."||

Lena 1:10 am
"Your point? At least you told me before hand what was going to happen." Lena shrugged. "Richard has them, some scrolls we bought for Leila. He can give them to you at the baths, I imagine." ||

Vasili 1:13 am
"For Leila?! Lena...Elena...I-I can't. This is a mistake! I have to go." Vasili is up and heading for the door without another word. ||

Lena 1:24 am
"If it's a mistake, then it's mine." Lena said quietly, and she stood to close the door after Vasili. "Goodbye Vasya." ||

Vasili 1:29 am
Vasili was two floors down before he stopped his feet from carrying him further. They didn't really know where they were going, after all.

It was never like that before. What was wrong with him?




Vasili 1:32 am
<Nothing's wrong with you, darling,> said the voice in his head, the one that had been there since childhood, back when it all started. <I've said it before--you just care too much! Now let's head over to your rooms so we can make sure they're secure. I'm sure things will feel better in the morning.>
With that, Leila slipped ahead of him and swelled to full size, leading the way to his own rooms, where she would make sure he was safe.

UNIVERSALITY GREY TEMPERANCE, YEAR OF THE ALZABO (June 26th, 775)

Vasili
So if/when Richard takes him up on the invitation to visit, he finds Vasili working on a three-dimensional recreation of what he saw right before Leila was killed. He was sharing her senses when it happened, so he's recreating that scene using an illusion, and modifying it like with a police sketch artist.

Vasili has been in a pensive mood since the spying expedition, but he brightens and softens considerably when Richard arrives. "Richard, thank you for coming. I've a lot to talk to you about."||

Richard
"Of course, Freiherr, though I-I-I confess I-I could not imagine as to what," Richard said, peering at the magical recreation with curious, misty eyes. The Mordentishman rubbed idly at his left hand as he glanced around the room. ||

Vasili
"I-I..." Vasili stops hard and realizes that he himself was on the verge of stuttering. He scowls and presses forward deliberately. "I want to give you your gift. It's nothing like what you gave me, but it's sincere, as I believe yours was.

"As a child, I was treated by some of the finest alienists in the Core, and because my mind healed...faster than I let on...I was able to pick up a little of their methods. Lately I've been delving into their tools, especially hypnosis. I've uncovered a method from Mordent...using hypnosis to treat speech problems.

"Frieherr, I mean no disrespect to your person. You are a man of grace and wisdom..."

Vasili pauses, his eyes casting around for the right way to actually ask...||

Richard
Richard flushed slightly and rubbed his beard, looking at the floor with half a grin. "I-I-I had a... a great many attempts to treat it. A-a great many speech tutors, certainly, though I-I fear they tended to make the problem... worse."

"Hypnosis was-was not quite so respectable for my-my Father to employ it." He laughed. "Well, I-I know it causes me some issue, and I do not doubt your sincerity. I-I-I have gotten used to it, if nothing else." ||

Vasili
"I understand. I know a little about getting used to one's...circumstances."

"I would like to try. If you would permit me...I think I can do this. I think WE can do this together. I don't know much about your tutors, but if they were anything like some of mine, they lacked one of the key ingredients to really make this kind of change work. They did not respect you, or earn your trust. I would like to do so."||

Richard
"I-I-I..." Richard grimaced slightly, rubbing at his hand again. "I-I can only hope you will not begrudge me some, some manner of reluctance," he said, softly. "Only that I-I am a very long way from home, and there are too many things happening in Hazlan that I-I do not understand." ||

Vasili
"I understand, and I'll respect whatever choice you would make in the matter. I suppose the offer to try was the real gift. I wish I could be a better guide to Hazlan, but the truth is...I hid myself so long that Hazlan is quite foreign to me, too. Had I been allowed to socialize properly--and allowed myself the opportunity as well, then I might be better able to prepare you for what lies before us.

"There is...another matter...on which I would understand your reluctance. I don't know if Le--Baroness Elena--told you about me trying to read her mind..."||

Richard
Richard shook his head. "I-I know very little about what lies between you, other than she-she counts you as a friend, to-to pay out of pocket for those scrolls."

He blew out a breath. "Forgive me. I-I do not wish to make unkind insinuations. It-it is just that I-I have become so very used to being as I-I am. And I-I..." He paused, then closed his eyes in thought for a moment. "In-in some ways, it has become a comfort." ||

Vasili
Vasili's face darkened, but he tried to shake those thoughts away. "I know all about allowing your infirmities to become a comfort, my friend. It's a cozy lie. I would not wish that on you.

"The Baroness does count me as a friend, despite everything that has passed between us. Even in public, she is far more civil to me than I deserve. I thought that my duty to the Jarenberg required me to evaluate all of my companions for their fitness for the task, using every means available. I took that concept to its logical extension with Lena...

"I have been sharing my innermost thoughts with another creature for so long, I had no idea what a violation it was. And reading people's thoughts is the only way I know to evaluate them. I've never had to really trust people, until now. It does not come easily to me. ||

Richard
"There can be such a thing as too trusting," Richard said, looking down for a moment. "But we must-we must trust someone, or what can we hope to do? I-I-I am just... terribly afraid of what the-what the truth looks like." ||

Vasili
"Well, that is the other reason I called you here. My offer is made; you know my feelings about giving up a struggle against an infirmity, allowing it to comfort you. I'll say no more about it for now, to avoid badgering you, but I'd like to revisit the subject after you've had a while to think about it. I would like to talk instead about the matter of trust. How people earn it, lose it, regain it. How to learn to trust people without...more certain means of getting to know them."

Vasili points to the illusion, and a glowing sphere of light appears alongside the Forfarian druidess with the tattooed face. He concentrates to make the light from it cast shadows on the woman's face.

"I can summon these creatures from my mind. They are angelic, I'm told, or at least resemble the lantern archons that reside in the angelic heavens. When I summon them, my mind goes to a place of...trust. Earlier, when went there to summon the archon...I found you there. I've come to realize that I don't need to read your mind to trust you, Richard. I don't understand why, but I trust you like I trust my angels. Do you know why?"||

Richard
Richard blinked, leaning his head to examine the little light, a smile unwittingly appearing on his face. "What-what beautiful creatures live in your mind, Freiherr..."

"I-I've been told I-I-I have a trustworthy face," he laughed, rubbing the back of his head. "Which I-I think is my sister's tactful way of saying I-I am hopeless at telling lies." ||

Vasili
Vasili's eyes bulge at Richard's statement, and it seems for an instant that he is choking. Can't tell lies?! How by the Name did such a man wind up in the middle of their intrigue? What were the Isfahani doing, expecting such a man to be of service to them?!

And yet...that didn't remove Richard from his place in Vasili's trust.

"Frieherr...part of me was ready to ignore that...feeling...about you. I felt duty bound to scan your mind, probe it for anything resembling a conflicting agenda, so that I might report to the Jarenberg with a clear conscience that we were right to place our trust in you.

"I was even prepared to earn your trust, give you my gift and then scan your thoughts while you were under hypnosis, without telling you. I told myself it would be gentler than telling you the truth. That I could be sincere in my help to you, and sincere in my duty, and that I would be doing you the service of earning you the Jarenberg's trust.

"I'm not going to do that. I'm going to ignore that nagging doubt that says I have to _know_ your thoughts for certain. I'm going to trust in that place in me that I draw on for my archons. I think it placed you there for a reason."

Vasili stopped, looked at the floor. "Are you certain you don't know what that reason is?" When Vasili's eyes rise to meet Richard's, they are pleading with him for some explanation...||

Richard
"Oh Ezra, had I-I but an answer to give you!" Richard blew out a breach, running his fingers across his alabaster shield. "There will always be a-a reason not to trust, Freiherr Boritsi, and the reasons to have faith never seem quite so satisfying to the-the conscious mind. I-I could argue to you why you ought to have trust, but I-I cannot answer why you should feel trust toward me in particular. I-I-I can only say that if-if you feel this way, I-I am honored by it. But I-I cannot say why, any more than I-I could answer why you feel any other emotion. I-I cannot answer any more than I-I can comprehend why those strange hounds of the Thotts took such a dislike to me, or why the Baroness' fox seemed to take such a liking."

"I-I could tell you that I-I am a good man, but I-I-I am no better than some, and worst than most. I-I am a man who tries to do good, and that is all. I-I could tell you, Ezra save me, that I-I hear voices in my head, that I wondered a-a long time if I-I were simply mad... I-I don't think I am, and yet..." Richard shook his head. "I-I could tell you I-I have felt just as you have before, because I-I shared some strange blood with another person... but I-I do not feel the same as you, and so I cannot give that to you as an answer."

"I-I wish I could tell you why I-I am here, which I-I know you must be asking. My-my friend would not invite me into this-this brewing storm without reason. But I-I have only one answer to give, and you will not be satisfied with it," he said, sadly. ||

Vasili
"The hounds? The hellhounds?" Vasili stops to consider this. He had seen them behave strangely at the Burning Scroll, but he had not understood. He had not known Richard at that point. Of course...

Suddenly Vasili realized that he did not care whether Richard had the ability to lie. Part of him--a small part, a part he would normally ignore--hoped that Richard would never tell a lie.

Dwelling on this revelation, Vasili barely hears the rest of Richard's words, even though he finds some small comfort in the man's voice. Until Richard says he shared blood with someone, and this led to...trust?

"I'm sorry, you did what? Shared someone's blood? By drinking, blood brothers--transfusion?

"As for your answer, I already have an answer that does not satisfy. I'd prefer another, if only for the variety."||

Richard
"No, no, not like..." Richard made a face at the thought. "I-I only half understand it myself. Distant... distant kin, is the best explanation I-I have. But I-I always know them, even if then I-I did not realize then that I-I-I knew them."

"Ezra called me here, and I-I came," he said, with a strange expression. "And if you think me a-a fool for coming here to risk death for such a-a thing, I-I shall not fault you." ||

Vasili
Vasili nodded at Richard's clarification of the blood relationship.

"I believe Ezra called you here, Richard. That actually makes more sense than anything else I can think of. I do not regard you as a fool, and if you are, then I think the world needs more of them. You bless the lives of those around you. You give us courage."

Vasili smiled at Richard. All this time puzzling about where Richard would fit in their intrigue, but he had it wrong: Richard represented the world they were fighting for. The others would get the job done, but Richard would make sure it was the right job. ||

Richard
Richard flushed slightly and looked at the ground, hunching his shoulders slightly. "I-I-I think you have developed a-a-a-a somewhat unrealistic opinion of me," he stammered. ||

Vasili
Vasili's eyes flash mischievously. "Perhaps. Perhaps that's what I need. Trust is, in its own way, unrealistic. And yet necessary."

He draws a steadying breath and looks back to his illusion. "At any rate, Richard, I hope I can someday gain your trust in return. I'd like to show the world the man behind your stutter. I think you might even surprise yourself. Perhaps your opinion of yourself is too low, as mine is too high. I'd like to show you a little of the man I see. The man I trust."

Vasili looks at Richard again. "When you are ready." ||

Richard
"Not-not so unrealistic. Only that we-we remember the betrayals more than the faithful. But we cannot exist a-alone, we must rely on others sometimes. If we cannot trust, who will trust us? Who will be there for us to-to fall back upon...?"

Richard took breath. "I-I... I-I fear I-I might instead show you the man I-I see. But... let me-let me talk to Marcel. If-if that is... if that is alright? If-if he might sit with me, I-I would feel... I-I could swallow that fear a little better." ||

Vasili
Vasili nodded. "Let me know how you want to proceed."||

UNIVERSALITY GREY WISDOM (June 27, 775, the day of the Lynx and Mugwort)

Vasili 10:20 pm
Long after the others are asleep, Vasili wakes, disarms the simple bucket trap on his room, and clears away the diagrams of more complicated ones. Improvising traps while traveling--this was something he had not expected. Somehow, in all his fantasies about service to the Jarenberg, he never once anticipated travel.

Vasili 10:25 pm
In the silence of early morning, just as the sun is creeping up, Vasili considers calling her again. It was a waste. He had other creature he could summon, creatures he was unable to bring when Leila was around. He briefly considered summoning an air elemental to spy for the mysterious party that had fled the Tor last night. No, he had done enough there already. If he went out on his own, and had another disaster, the others would never trust him.

Vasili 10:27 pm
Thinking again on his conversation with Richard, Vasili thought again on that place in him that had no need of answers. A white ball appeared in the air.

"I think we need to...review your abilities," he said. "I fear I am neglecting you."
||

Lena 10:32 pm
It was at this point that Vasili heard a soft knock on his door, a gentle tap-tap-tap designed not to awaken anyone else still active at this ungodly hour. ||

Vasili 10:37 pm
Vasili turns to the sphere. "Did you hear someone coming?" He scowls. "Okay, scratch watchdog duties off the list," he mumbles as he moves to check the door. He opens the door a crack. "Who's there?"||
(Upon seeing Lena's face, Vasili will throw the door open)
||

Lena 10:39 pm
"Azalin Rex." Lena said with a mischievous smile. She was wearing a dark grey dressing gown at the moment, and her hair was unbound, falling in lustrous locks down her back. Before Vasili could even open the door, Ushka was already in the process of wiggling through. "This is my travelling guise. May I come in?" ||

Vasili 10:42 pm
Vasili throws the door wide and backs away, ushering Lena in while simultaneously putting a healthy distance between them. He looks askance at the sphere and says, "No, not...yet."
||

Lena 10:44 pm
"Introduce me to your friend?" Lena said, closing the door behind them. She had not been seen coming (the advantage of having a fox with ears like a bat's). ||

Vasili 10:49 pm
"Ah, this is...ah...my ar-archon. A lantern archon..I haven't given him a name." For goodness' sake, did thinking of Richard make him stutter?!
||

Lena 10:50 pm
"Well that seems unkind of you." Lena said, favoring the archon with a small bow. "Baroness Elena von Zarovich, Sir Archon."
Ushka, in the meantime, had clambered onto Vasili's bed and was looking as though she belonged there.
"Should I take it that Sir Archon is replacing your former companion?" Lena said, arching a brow. "We haven't seen her around recently." ||

Vasili 10:55 pm
"Leila? But she was here last night, until--" Vasili paused and looked at Lena, wondering what she was getting at. "Until she was killed. You were there, with me."||

Lena 10:56 pm
"Before." Lena waved a hand, glancing about the room for anywhere to sit. "When during our exhilerating journey through Western Hazlan, you prefered the company of an illusion." ||

Vasili 11:04 pm
Vasili moved to the bed and reached out to feed Leila a strip of raw meat that appeared out of nowhere. "You noticed," he said finally. "Was it obvious? Do you know if anyone else caught on?"||

Lena 11:05 pm
Ushka*
Ushka snapped at the piece of meat and nodded approvingly to Vasili. Now there was someone who understood.

Vasili 11:05 pm
Ah, yeah. Feeds Ushka.

Lena 11:06 pm
"My own constant companion noticed the absence of a scent." Lena said dryly. "And so, we investigated. I don't mean to judge, hardly. I'm simply curious. I thought you two were inseparable." ||

Vasili 11:13 pm
Vasili's eyes dropped, and he bit his lip. "We were. That was the problem. Leila's...presence...had become a problem. I was needed time without her in my thoughts. I didn't want to make a scene of it, or alert anyone else outside our party we were less defensible. Plus, the illusion gave me a way to focus my thoughts, exercise my skills, while remaining alone."

He pulls out another strip of meat for Ushka. "Who was it that said that if we cannot tolerate to be alone, we fail to appreciate our own companionship properly? It was...something like that."||

Lena 11:15 pm
"And how do you find your own companionship?" Lena said, looking at Vasili with half-lidded eyes. ||

Vasili 11:20 pm
"Dull," he said immediately. Then he sighed and rolled off the bed to a cushion on the ground. He set himself against the wall, and offered one to Lena. Leaning back, he repeated, "Dull and dreadful. I am an encyclopedia of facts without any regard for their worth. I am as charming as a textbook."||

Lena 11:24 pm
"Also rather hard on yourself." Lena observed, sitting down on the cushion with her knees curled up beneath her. It occurred to Vasili at this interval that despite wearing no other jewelry, Lena did have a single ring on her finger, of rather plain design. "Textbooks don't have quite your talent for creative insanity." ||

Vasili 11:27 pm
He laughed, only partly in mirth. "True. But I suppose I did this to examine my faults in greater relief. It stands to reason they would rule my recollections. My virtues will have their own three-day examination, someday."||

Lena 11:30 pm
"I await the results with baited breath." Lena said, blowing out a short breath. She paused for a moment. "I don't blame you for the trouble we had over Sofia. Apology accepted." ||

Vasili 11:38 pm
Vasili flushed. "I-I just have too few friends not to fight for the ones I have," he said, looking determinedly at the archon. "And if the person I need to fight is me, well, then I'll beat myself black and blue. I'll cut myself to pieces. Cut out my own tongue--" he stops and looks at Lena, "--before I give up on a friend as lost."

His fierceness abates for a moment, and he nods toward the ring. "That's new," he says. It's not a question.||

Lena 11:43 pm
"It is." Lena said, her expression oddly like Ushka's just then. She watched Vasili's moment of passion, head cocked to one side and lips pursed. Her fingers tapped against the edge of the cushion. "Do you like it?" She said, a fae smile on her lips. ||

Vasili 11:48 pm
Vasili took a deep breath. "I fear any jewelry on you, milady, is going to struggle to improve such beauty. That being said, it becomes you quite well."

"But of course, it's not there for decoration, is it?" This is a question, if only for the sake of manners.||

Lena 11:51 pm
"No. You're an excellent teacher, Vasili." Lena murmured. "And you've a courtier's tongue. Dementlieu lost a great one in you."
"Though I worry that by the end of this, you will have cut yourself to pieces." The Baroness sighed. "They'll make you do it to yourself." ||

Vasili 11:56 pm
"Perhaps..." Vasili's face darkens ever so slightly. "If I am half the student as I am the teacher, perhaps I will learn a way around that."||

Lena 7:53 pm
Now, Lena may have been inclined to strangle Vasili after the whole mind-reading fiasco, but that didn't mean the little weasel didn't have a good idea (Lena's feelings towards Vasili at this juncture were complicated). Since the Barovian didn't have any handy mind-reading spells, she decided to scope out their companions using her own ineffable methods. Lots of charm and a very pretty face.

Lena 7:56 pm
So it was that a few days out of Helholt, Lena took the opportunity to locate Renhalt Jarenberg when they stopped at one of the two-bit inns that littered the roads of the Core. As far as Lena was concerned, one traveler's inn was much like another, consisting of drafty rooms and dubious food, occasionally with an even more dubious flavor. But such was the life of a diplomat, especially a minor trade diplomat who did not rate fancy stays at noble estates, Von Zarovich name notwithstanding.
"Now where is our host..." Lena murmured, stroking Ushka's ear as she moved through the inn. The fox wiggled her ears in response.
"Hush you." Lena said. ||

The Game Master 8:00 pm
Looking up from his book from a corner of the common room, Renhalt gestured vaguely toward the back of the building. "I believe he's in the back negotiating with the local brewer. I hope that means we'll have something potable set before us tonight. What do you need?"ll

Lena 8:02 pm
"At the moment? Something to do other than stare at the wall of my chamber." Lena said, rolling her eyes and taking a seat by Renhalt. She glanced at the book. "Your country is lovely, Renhalt, but it forcibly reminds me that I'm a city girl at heart, Volkadav notwithstanding."

Lena 8:02 pm
Ushka scampered down and started looking for anything interesting, which meant anything twitching or anything edible. ||

The Game Master 8:30 pm
"How is that even possible, Lena?" Renhalt asks, amused. "Are there any cities in Barovia?"ll

Lena 8:32 pm
"We like to take Immol, put a fancy hat on it, and pretend." Lena said without missing a beat. "Still, I someday hope we'll have a city like Port-a-Lucine. Not in my life time, though." ||

The Game Master 8:37 pm
"Port-a-Lucine?" Renhalt echoes, making a largely successful attempt to keep amusement and skepticism out of his voice. "The Name alone can say what the future will bring, but…m'm. What was it that so charmed you about the great cities of the West?"ll

Lena 8:40 pm
"I said hope, not expect." Lena said with a wrinkle of her nose. "As for what so charmed me... the wealth, the culture, the idea that the arts can be more than folk songs and stories around the samovar."
"Not that I mind those." Lena observed wryly. "I would be a liar if I did... but it saddens me that Barovia's authors and librettists all go to Borca if they hope to achieve glory. Ushka takes her name from one expatriate's opera, as a matter of fact." ||

The Game Master 8:49 pm
"Does she now?" Renhalt says, politely curious. "Was this the beginning of your career as a diva, Ushka?" He offers the fox a small piece of cheese from his trencher. "Well, if those are your criteria of judgment, I think you would do well to visit Sly-Var and Toyalis some day. I think they can hardly be compared to Port-a-Lucine in scope, but I am given to understand that Western visitors generally find them impressive."ll

Lena 8:51 pm
"Bogdan Marcek's Bystroushka. About another clever vixen." Lena said, as Ushka cleverly ate the cheese. These people, the fox considered, were wonderful. They kept giving her food. "I hope to see Toyalis, though Sly-Var has a somewhat... dubious... reputation. Rather like Kantora." Which was a city Lena had visited.
"What of you, Renhalt? Are you a man of country, town, or city?" Lena said, then her smile deepened and dimpled. "And why does a wizard like you have no familiar?" ||

The Game Master 8:59 pm
"Oh, the country," Renhalt replies. "The mountains, specifically. High skies and clear air for me. Of course, my years in a city were spent in Ramulai, which is an unlovely place. As bad as Kantora except for the ways in which it's worse--though never having been to Kantora perhaps I'm maligning one or the other of them." At Lena's question about a familiar he thumbs the silver ring set with red and black stones on his right hand and frowns, then shrugs. "I never really considered it," he says. "Can't say why."ll

Lena 9:03 pm
"From all I've heard of Ramulai and from my year in Kantora, no, I think you've the right of it." Lena said, wrinkling her nose. "Clearly, we need to take you to a more enticing city. Port-a-Lucine, or Pont-a-Museau, or perhaps Mordentshire."
"They don't seem terribly common among the Mulani wizards I've seen. Or perhaps it's because I've mostly met sorcerers so far." Lena said, reaching out to stroke Ushka's fur. "Which I've always found strange, given how varied the wildlife is. You could have a duck-beaver creature as your familiar, and then everyone would ooh and aah." ||

The Game Master 9:11 pm
"Duck-beaver?…Oh! So you've heard of those. I don't know, that's rather sedate, don't you think? Setting the hallucinogenic poison spurs, which I must allow was a nice touch. You can never tell what will actually succeed once it gets into the wild, can you? Now, if you really want to raise eyebrows…I was told, the Name along knows if it's true, that some by-blow of the Ystrangr actually has an alzabo as a familiar." Renhalt raises his eyebrows in theatrical astonishment as he relates this piece of gossip.ll

Lena 9:13 pm
"I have only one question. How? In this case, how did he keep from getting eaten?" Lena's brows rose as well. She did not quite cry 'fake!' but the tall tale was met with the incredulity it deserved. "Though really, this is what I do love about Hazlan. The wildlife here is such that a poisonous duck-beaver is sedate." ||

The Game Master 9:17 pm
"It's all relative, isn't it?" Renhalt says. "When you've grown up with luecrotta and pteryons and owlbears in the woods, the poor duck-beaver just can't get any show. As for how, well, I'm sure I don't know. I hope it's not true, and if it is, I hope I never meet him. And if that's what you love about Hazlan…well, there should be plenty to love." This with a slightly ironic look; it hasn't escaped Renhalt's attention that Lena does not exactly waxed rhapsodic over Hazlan as a destination.
ll

Lena 9:20 pm
"I hear pteryon are quite beautiful, though I've never entirely understood owlbears. Regular bears seem to do perfectly fine in Barovia without beaks." Lena murmured, then grimaced at the implied rebuke. "I've not been a terribly good diplomat, have I?" She said gingerly. ||

The Game Master 9:29 pm
Renhalt frowns in puzzlement, then half-smiles and says, "Well, let's see. Within your first twenty-four hours in Hazlan you were a key figure in winning over a Great House whose allegiance is vital and was not terribly inclined to us…h'm…no further developments in the three days since...I'd have to say you made a good start but haven't really kept up the pace." He winks, then becomes serious. "I think...You love your country, Lena, as I love mine. Not because they are so very lovable, when seen with clear eyes, but because we are of them and have great hopes for them. You want Port-a-Lucine. What I want…well. We'll have time to talk of that."ll

Lena 9:37 pm
There was a moment of silence, and then Lena laughed, a pleased, surprised sound. "Clearly I need to up my game." She chuckled, then looked at Renhalt more closely, dark eyes beneath raven hair. "We will indeed, and you've answered a question I wasn't sure I could ask. But you're a genuine patriot."
"Not to mention the designated adult of this expedition." Lena said, again with that dimpled smile. "I was expecting to be met by a delegation of greybears, and I have to say the surprise has been a mostly pleasant one." ||

The Game Master 9:41 pm
"I don't usually think of it that way…but I suppose I am." Whether this is directed to being a genuine patriot or the designated adult is not quite clear. "As for our graybeards, well, age has its perquisites. Youth gets to do the legwork."ll

Lena 9:43 pm
"Well that's rather deflating. I look forward to meeting The Jarenberg. By all accounts, he must be something special, if he has people like you doing the legwork." Lena said dryly. ||

The Game Master 9:45 pm
"Oh, he is. As I imagine your supervisors must be as well."ll

Lena 9:46 pm
"I rather hope to be a fly on the wall if ever they meet." Lena said, her smile widening into a grin. "Now that would be a story for the ages." ||

Grimshaw, Mordentishire, 757

Alice had proven the easier of the pair to find. It was evident she was of noble dress and speech, and for a noble girl her age to be seen in town unchaperoned was scandalously noteworthy. Add to that her father’s temperament and presence, which she’d clearly inherited, and she’d been easily recalled by everyone she’d talked to. She was dressed rather sensibly against the chill, and had also rather sensibly packed a basket of provisions, some rope, a spare blanket, and a long kitchen knife - the last of which Edmund felt was a little too sensible. She turned as she heard him approach and gave a little jump of surprise when she spotted him, her expression shifting between surprise, joy, and chagrin.

“Uncle Edmund!” she exclaimed, running toward him, but pulling up short before embracing him. She was a forceful, mature sort of child, but still a child, and the fear of a scolding tempered any affectionate wishes that she had.

“Now, Alice,” Edmund replied, attempting a stern countenance, which was shattered by his smile cracking through it. He went down on one knee to be of closer height with her. “Does your father know you’re out here?”

Alice drew herself up, proud as a queen. “I don’t care if he does,” she said tartly. “This is his fault to begin with.”

“Ah dear,” Edmund murmured.

That was the trouble with Lord Adrian’s steely temper. It wasn’t just that it made him unreasonable, unbearable sometimes. It was the inevitability that his children would also have it. Most of his daughters had taken after their sweet mother, and praise to Ezra for that. Alice had taken after both, kind enough to keenly feel any injustice against her loved ones, and fierce enough to take offense over it. She might have been the child closest to Lord Blackwood, the one who viewed him most as a father and less as an authority. At this moment in time, that didn’t matter one whit.

“Your mother is worried about you,” said Edmund, changing tactics.

Alice folded her arms over her basket, looking to the side with a guilty glance. “She’ll be more worried about Richard. I can take care of myself. He’s two years younger, uncle.”

“And so she sent me to bring both of you home. Go on, Alice. I’m not just a Lamplighter for my good looks, I’ll find Richard,” Edmund said. “She’s talked some sense to your father, there shouldn’t be any more of the matter when you return.”

“It would go faster if we both looked,” said Alice primly.

“Go on, Alice.”

Edmund shook his head and smiled as the girl huffed and turned to make her way back up the road. She was the easy one.
----------------------

Richard had made it all the way past the edge of town. He was sitting in the meadow, surrounded by scattered flowers, in the way of a child who wanted to keep running but hadn’t anywhere to go. There wasn’t really a choice but to go back home, the other options presented to him only did so to make a mockery of the concept. He had to go back. His mind couldn’t even comprehend not going back. He just didn’t have to do it now.

He’d been crying, Edmund guessed that much. Sap was smeared across his cheeks, left there by desperate fingers. He’d quieted eventually, reached a natural lull, tears rolling down his cheeks until finally were spent. When the boy spotted his uncle approaching, however, they seemed to come back in full force.

“I-I-I… I-I…F-f-fa-father...” Richard tried, turning away sullenly as his uncle came to sit beside him. Every stammer was another knife in the boy’s heart, and there was nothing Edmund could do but wait for him to calm. He didn’t judge the boy, but whether he did or not didn’t matter. Richard judged himself, and saw that judgement reflected in the world around him.

“I-I-I was-- I-I-I was pick-picking fl-flowers,” Richard finally said, drawing his legs to his chest defensively. “They-they-they weren’t even for me. They-they were for mother.”

“Well, your mother and I have talked some sense into him. He won’t trouble you about it again, pay him no mind,” Edmund said, giving his nephew a gentle smile. They’d never pry an apology out of Lord Adrian, or even a kind word to make up for his harsh ones. The most they’d ever get was a sullen silence, a tacit promise not to bring up the argument again. To give way, even a little, was not in Lord Adrian’s nature.

There was a pause, as Edmund waited. Richard was smart enough to know what the silent implication was. “I-I-I don’t want to--I-I don’t-don’t want to-to go back.”

Edmund had barely even begun to respond before Richard turned, his voice choked on tears. “I-I-I don’t! Why-why should--why should--why should I-I? He doesn’t-doesn’t want--he doesn’t want me. He wants-wants something-some-some-something that-that-that...!”

“He does, Richard, he’s just…” Edmund blew out his breath. He suspected his young nephew was smarter than he was, which made things difficult. But Richard had never been quite so good at picking up the emotions of other people, which made it worse. “...an idiot. Pay him no mind. Your mother and your sisters are worried about you. I caught Alice out in town, trying to find where you’d gone.”

“A-Alice…” Richard hunched his shoulders further. He gave one last, futile attempt to wipe away the tears, before standing up. There wasn’t really a choice, they both knew. He had to go back home. Whether he wanted to, he could decide some other time.

They call Dementlieu the Mad Place. It is fitting, since that was where I went mad.

To this day I wonder if there was some cause to it, some trigger, or if that fuse had always been burning within me, and Dementlieu had been where it ran out. Perhaps it was both. Perhaps I was destined to be there when chaos rocked the city, as I am destined to stand in Hazlan now. Too much happened in that place for it for be a coincidence. I was touched by powers I had never felt before, met people who in some ways ruled my past, and met those who now guide me toward my future. I nearly died. When I am being truly honest with myself, I simply say “I died”; the fact I still live a minor blemish on the truth of that day. And yet there were too many potential causes for it to have been a single one. Was it the madness that consumed whole towns, that kindled this madness in me? My plunge into the abyss of death? The touch of the other world, that I still feel in the scars upon my left arm? Was it the Icon of Ezra? The Church of Eglise Sainte-Madeleine's? Was it Kerrian, and his strange thoughts of speaking to the church’s spirit?

It seems strange to point to him, amid the goddesses and monsters, the magic and passion, that flew through Dementlieu in those months. He was the one who best understood my love of Sainte-Madeleine's; I think he loved it too, in his own way. For Eglise Sainte-Madeleine's was made of human bone, the bodies of the faithful, freely given to build their church. It was the devotion of that act, that called out to Kerrian. It was the love behind it that called out to me. Whenever I stepped upon the threshold, I felt truly cherished. If I listen to Kerrian’s words, the church truly cherished me.

I know not the hour or the day, but Sainte-Madeleine's spoke to me. At the time, I knew not what to think, yet the voices never left me, after that.

”Fui quod sis, sum quod eris. Virtus junxit, mors non separabit.”

The stone walls were gone. The other bones were gone, save for the altar, and the shield that rose above it. The skulls were there: I looked at each and saw a pale and ephemeral visage, the souls of all those long dead faithful, standing behind the bones they once claimed as theirs. Each of these held a candle, a point of light in the endless darkness. The walls were made of mirrors, reflecting each other into eternity, an infinite army of a thousand tiny flames. A trio of hooded figures loomed above it all, larger than worlds, too large and far away to be heard by as small a voice as I possessed. One wore a star, one a skull, one a shield.

“Non omnis moriar, nil igitur mors est ad nos.”

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When I was younger, when they brought my uncle back, I would pray for him until the words were just sounds on my lips. My father hired clerics to do likewise: every mage, every priest of every god, every alchemist, every alienist, every charlatan he could find. He hated all of them, but he loved my mother. I shall never hear it said he does not love her with all his heart and soul. They were the finest of their kind in the Core, Father saw to that, and yet their words were as futile as mine. Yet in my childish arrogance - or perhaps I call it hope - I was convinced that I would succeed, where all others had failed us. I was his nephew, his own blood. I loved him. Surely I could find a way. Surely he would wake up for me.

Ezra ascended, once mortal who rose to grant succor to man, grant me guidance. Ezra divine, who alone heard the cries of her people, hear my prayer.

I threw myself into my studies. I even begged the Icon of Ezra, hoping it would find me unworthy, if it would but take this unnatural sleep from my uncle and place it on me. Yet Ezra never answered.

Had I been another, perhaps it would have burned out my faith. But it kindled in me a humbleness, a greater understanding, if a sorrowful one. There were powers in this world beyond my ken, ones I was foolish to think I could control. Miracles were so cherished, so treasured, because they were very rare things. I could not command a goddess by wishing it otherwise; I was hardly so special to have the divine at my beck and call. My uncle had not fallen simply so I could play a hero and bring him back.

I accepted this without malice, if with regret. And yet, so many years after hope had died, I thought I heard her speak.

How do you describe the voice of a goddess? I met a man once that, should I ever be asked how a god would appear, I would describe him. He looked like a man. He had a voice like a man, used words like a man, ate like a man, bled like a man. Yet he felt to me like the front of an oncoming storm - as if his face was nothing more than a mask, worn over something much bigger than I could see. I never knew if I was simply allowing fancy to overcome me. I never spoke much to him, when I knew him. I regret that. Perhaps I would have understood, a little better, if I had. I wasn’t ready, I think, and by the time I was he had moved on.

I do not know if calling this voice “Ezra” is likewise simply fancy, yet I know in my heart of hearts, I believe it to be her. There is no mask, only what lies beneath it, her words skirting just on the edge of comprehension. She sounds like heaven, like sky, like rain, all meaningless words for a voice, and yet all mortal words are meaningless to describe her. It hurts to hear her. She is so, so beautiful. This was not a sound meant to be heard by mortal ears, it is too big for my mind to contain. I think that voice could kill me, stop my heart in its tracks, and a part of me would gladly let it. The rest of me wants to scream, to claw open the back of my skull and let the words out. It is only when it ends that I can think of how deeply sad she sounds.

There are others, that I have learned to pick out when they speak. But she will always be the closest to me.