Post by Dinadan on Oct 9, 2005 19:29:13 GMT -5
[Hadn't realized I'd not gotten 'round to posting this here yet.]
Dinadan was still not entirely sure how they’d made it to the elves’ tree city. He remembered the journey from Keystone mostly in fragments, the constant fear that Hanada would re-appear, the small shifts in the cant of the road that had become mountains, the rising sun casting long shadows in front of them as they staggered west.
And finally, at Elanoralana’s manor, there had been a biomancer. Some elf Dinadan had never seen before, wearing a livery he didn’t recognize, but competent and quick. Glim got the first attention, then Dinadan. The bard couldn’t tell whether the biomancer had sent him to sleep magically or whether it had been simple exhaustion, but he’d slept a long time, and not dreamed.
Somewhere along the way, his clothes had been cleaned and mended. He felt almost himself as he perfunctorily bathed and dressed.
[--*--]
Elanoralana, Ylonna, and Glim were seated around the Marchioness’ dining table. Glim looked a little pale, but otherwise in good spirits. The same could not be said for Ylonna, busily trading glares with the elf-lady.
“What’s the time?”
“Mid-afternoon, boyo. Ye’ve had a good long sleep. Seems t’suit ye.” Glim replied between bites of some vegetable concoction.
Din sat, his eyes on Elanoralana. “I do feel better. Good afternoon, your grace.”
Elanoralana seemed as composed as ever. But a few strands of hair had escaped her coronet, and her jewelry was slightly askew. “Good afternoon, master Whistler. Have you come to apologize?”
The bard’s eyes narrowed. “For what? Telling you the truth? Asking you to take some responsibility for the lives you’ve blithely endangered in your quest for a summer home? Or is it for bleeding on your carpet?”
“Enough! I admit that matters have not progressed as I had hoped. Iqualanelle’s betrayal runs deep, and I suppose I owe you thanks for exposing it.”
“Suppose?” Dinadan roared. “Seven hells and six brothers, woman, I’ve been stabbed, spitted, and chased half across the Retroverse ‘exposing’ your granddaughter’s treachery. And so far all I’ve got to show for it are patches in my clothes and a nearly dead father. And an assassin after me.”
“Dina! Hush ye. ‘Tis not yer place t’be shoutin’ at th’lady.”
Ylonna snapped. “Don’t you dare defend the elf, o husband mine. I’ve had to take you from her once. Don’t make me do it again.” Glim looked properly abashed.
Dinadan dropped his voice to a more conversational level, though little of the heat left it. “Marchioness, working for you put me in danger. I’m fine with that. Put myself in danger plenty with less money on the table. But it’s gotten my family in trouble, and I’m not about to let that slide. What are you going to do about it?”
“What am I going to do about it.” the elf repeated. “For all the chaos you have sown, Dinadan Whistler, your understanding scarce breaks the surface. It is not my place do aught other than send my pieces once again onto the board. And unfortunately, you seem to have killed or discredited most of them.” Her lips curled. “I am left with an elderly satyr swordsman and his reckless singer son, my advisors, and a few assorted guttersnipes paid in copper. And we are at the end game.”
“Spare me your metaphors, marchioness. If you’re about to ask me to do something foolish, just do it. I’ve got no more patience for this dance.”
Elanoralana produced a sword from somewhere, presumably beneath the table. After a moment of looking at it, Din recognized Lan’s rapier.
“Th’sword of th’door.” Glim mumbled before Dinadan could respond. “I’ve not seen her for ages. Where’s him what wielded it?”
“Your son killed him.” Elanoralana replied dryly. “Which leaves me without a doorwarden.”
“M’lady, ye don’t want an old goat like me.”
She nodded. “Not for long, no. But I require one last task of you, Glim.”
“You’re not taking my husband away from me!” Ylonna stood, a heavy goblet shaking in her hand. “You leave us out of this!”
Glim stood, too, and circled the table to stand beside his wife. “’Tis her right, my love. We’ve had our time. Good years, good years. A fine son. If’n it be time to throw me life away for justice, I can be livin’ with it, so t’speak.” He took her hands and looked into her eyes. “I know th’Unseelie. That gobbo won’t be restin’ ‘til I’m cold and buried, not so long as ‘er mistress want me dead. I’ve got too many years under me belt t’be hidin’ and scramblin’, hopin’ t’stay a step or three ahead o’th’knife. There be only one way t’end this.”
“Glim...” Ylonna trailed off. “Please, don’t.”
The old satyr shook his head angrily, great curling horns glinting in the light. “Ye know me fer a fool, and a stubborn one at that. Iqua sent her killers after me. After me son, after me wife.” He picked up the sword on the table. “She’s a good blade, Ylonna, and I ain’t failed wi’ her yet. Mayhaps I got one good fight left in me, mayhaps not, but I’m not fer th’lay down and die. There’s more in me hands than carvin’ wood, and I aim t’see the bitch dead.”
Ylonna nodded slowly, eyes damp. “So be it, my fool husband. One last adventure, then you’re coming back and I’ll not let you out of your shop.”
Elanoralana cleared her throat delicately. “Iqualanelle knows her agents have failed to kill you. She knows that you have told me of her betrayal. There will be little hope of catching her unaware.” She paused, pencil-thin lips pursed in thought. “And I cannot strike at her directly, not without discrediting my claims with the Sultan. The Sultan, however, does not know that the Whistlers are in my employ. You two are my best weapons.”
Dinadan shifted in his chair. Hard enough to listen to his father all but tell his mother goodbye. Now... “You’re sending us after her, aren’t you.”
“It is, as your father said, your only option. Iqualanelle will not rest until Glim is dead. She will kill you, too, if she can. Or imprison you.”
“She’s a necromancer. How do you propose a bard and an old —no disrespect, dad—man take her on? I’m fairly good at what I do, but there are far more powerful people out there. I think Iqua is one of them.”
“The treacherous whelp must die. I will provide you what help I can. My armories are far from bare. There are items that will aid you. And though Iqualanelle will not be caught with her guard completely lowered, she should not expect a direct assault. Not so quickly. She will expect me to wait, call in my agents from the field, wage the war in the shadows. That is the traditional elven way. But there is a time for,” she glanced at Dinadan, “indiscretion. For breaking with tradition.”
Dinadan nodded slowly. “I guess. But couldn’t you, I don’t know, make some kind of feint? Our chances would definitely be better if Iqua’s henchmen can be drawn elsewhere.”
“This is true. I helped build her network. I know where her agents will be. Simple enough to send a few of my own after them. The streets of Suthnas should be sufficiently confused to allow you passage to her apartments.”
“Joy. Streetfighting and arson, I imagine.” Dinadan said.
“Aye, boyo. Reckon we’ll have a right hot time of it.” Glim grinned savagely, looking years younger. “A chance t’do unto others afore they do unto us.”
Dinadan looked skeptical. He glanced towards his mother, only to find that she’d left the room. “I suppose it will be tonight, then?”
Elanoralana nodded. “That would be best. I will make the necessary arrangements now.” She swept out of the room in a swirl of silk
Dinadan picked up a bunch of olives. “Well dad, foot’s in the trap now, eh?”
“Aye, Dina.” Glim’s eyes glinted in the magelight. “Aye. That it is.”
Dinadan was still not entirely sure how they’d made it to the elves’ tree city. He remembered the journey from Keystone mostly in fragments, the constant fear that Hanada would re-appear, the small shifts in the cant of the road that had become mountains, the rising sun casting long shadows in front of them as they staggered west.
And finally, at Elanoralana’s manor, there had been a biomancer. Some elf Dinadan had never seen before, wearing a livery he didn’t recognize, but competent and quick. Glim got the first attention, then Dinadan. The bard couldn’t tell whether the biomancer had sent him to sleep magically or whether it had been simple exhaustion, but he’d slept a long time, and not dreamed.
Somewhere along the way, his clothes had been cleaned and mended. He felt almost himself as he perfunctorily bathed and dressed.
[--*--]
Elanoralana, Ylonna, and Glim were seated around the Marchioness’ dining table. Glim looked a little pale, but otherwise in good spirits. The same could not be said for Ylonna, busily trading glares with the elf-lady.
“What’s the time?”
“Mid-afternoon, boyo. Ye’ve had a good long sleep. Seems t’suit ye.” Glim replied between bites of some vegetable concoction.
Din sat, his eyes on Elanoralana. “I do feel better. Good afternoon, your grace.”
Elanoralana seemed as composed as ever. But a few strands of hair had escaped her coronet, and her jewelry was slightly askew. “Good afternoon, master Whistler. Have you come to apologize?”
The bard’s eyes narrowed. “For what? Telling you the truth? Asking you to take some responsibility for the lives you’ve blithely endangered in your quest for a summer home? Or is it for bleeding on your carpet?”
“Enough! I admit that matters have not progressed as I had hoped. Iqualanelle’s betrayal runs deep, and I suppose I owe you thanks for exposing it.”
“Suppose?” Dinadan roared. “Seven hells and six brothers, woman, I’ve been stabbed, spitted, and chased half across the Retroverse ‘exposing’ your granddaughter’s treachery. And so far all I’ve got to show for it are patches in my clothes and a nearly dead father. And an assassin after me.”
“Dina! Hush ye. ‘Tis not yer place t’be shoutin’ at th’lady.”
Ylonna snapped. “Don’t you dare defend the elf, o husband mine. I’ve had to take you from her once. Don’t make me do it again.” Glim looked properly abashed.
Dinadan dropped his voice to a more conversational level, though little of the heat left it. “Marchioness, working for you put me in danger. I’m fine with that. Put myself in danger plenty with less money on the table. But it’s gotten my family in trouble, and I’m not about to let that slide. What are you going to do about it?”
“What am I going to do about it.” the elf repeated. “For all the chaos you have sown, Dinadan Whistler, your understanding scarce breaks the surface. It is not my place do aught other than send my pieces once again onto the board. And unfortunately, you seem to have killed or discredited most of them.” Her lips curled. “I am left with an elderly satyr swordsman and his reckless singer son, my advisors, and a few assorted guttersnipes paid in copper. And we are at the end game.”
“Spare me your metaphors, marchioness. If you’re about to ask me to do something foolish, just do it. I’ve got no more patience for this dance.”
Elanoralana produced a sword from somewhere, presumably beneath the table. After a moment of looking at it, Din recognized Lan’s rapier.
“Th’sword of th’door.” Glim mumbled before Dinadan could respond. “I’ve not seen her for ages. Where’s him what wielded it?”
“Your son killed him.” Elanoralana replied dryly. “Which leaves me without a doorwarden.”
“M’lady, ye don’t want an old goat like me.”
She nodded. “Not for long, no. But I require one last task of you, Glim.”
“You’re not taking my husband away from me!” Ylonna stood, a heavy goblet shaking in her hand. “You leave us out of this!”
Glim stood, too, and circled the table to stand beside his wife. “’Tis her right, my love. We’ve had our time. Good years, good years. A fine son. If’n it be time to throw me life away for justice, I can be livin’ with it, so t’speak.” He took her hands and looked into her eyes. “I know th’Unseelie. That gobbo won’t be restin’ ‘til I’m cold and buried, not so long as ‘er mistress want me dead. I’ve got too many years under me belt t’be hidin’ and scramblin’, hopin’ t’stay a step or three ahead o’th’knife. There be only one way t’end this.”
“Glim...” Ylonna trailed off. “Please, don’t.”
The old satyr shook his head angrily, great curling horns glinting in the light. “Ye know me fer a fool, and a stubborn one at that. Iqua sent her killers after me. After me son, after me wife.” He picked up the sword on the table. “She’s a good blade, Ylonna, and I ain’t failed wi’ her yet. Mayhaps I got one good fight left in me, mayhaps not, but I’m not fer th’lay down and die. There’s more in me hands than carvin’ wood, and I aim t’see the bitch dead.”
Ylonna nodded slowly, eyes damp. “So be it, my fool husband. One last adventure, then you’re coming back and I’ll not let you out of your shop.”
Elanoralana cleared her throat delicately. “Iqualanelle knows her agents have failed to kill you. She knows that you have told me of her betrayal. There will be little hope of catching her unaware.” She paused, pencil-thin lips pursed in thought. “And I cannot strike at her directly, not without discrediting my claims with the Sultan. The Sultan, however, does not know that the Whistlers are in my employ. You two are my best weapons.”
Dinadan shifted in his chair. Hard enough to listen to his father all but tell his mother goodbye. Now... “You’re sending us after her, aren’t you.”
“It is, as your father said, your only option. Iqualanelle will not rest until Glim is dead. She will kill you, too, if she can. Or imprison you.”
“She’s a necromancer. How do you propose a bard and an old —no disrespect, dad—man take her on? I’m fairly good at what I do, but there are far more powerful people out there. I think Iqua is one of them.”
“The treacherous whelp must die. I will provide you what help I can. My armories are far from bare. There are items that will aid you. And though Iqualanelle will not be caught with her guard completely lowered, she should not expect a direct assault. Not so quickly. She will expect me to wait, call in my agents from the field, wage the war in the shadows. That is the traditional elven way. But there is a time for,” she glanced at Dinadan, “indiscretion. For breaking with tradition.”
Dinadan nodded slowly. “I guess. But couldn’t you, I don’t know, make some kind of feint? Our chances would definitely be better if Iqua’s henchmen can be drawn elsewhere.”
“This is true. I helped build her network. I know where her agents will be. Simple enough to send a few of my own after them. The streets of Suthnas should be sufficiently confused to allow you passage to her apartments.”
“Joy. Streetfighting and arson, I imagine.” Dinadan said.
“Aye, boyo. Reckon we’ll have a right hot time of it.” Glim grinned savagely, looking years younger. “A chance t’do unto others afore they do unto us.”
Dinadan looked skeptical. He glanced towards his mother, only to find that she’d left the room. “I suppose it will be tonight, then?”
Elanoralana nodded. “That would be best. I will make the necessary arrangements now.” She swept out of the room in a swirl of silk
Dinadan picked up a bunch of olives. “Well dad, foot’s in the trap now, eh?”
“Aye, Dina.” Glim’s eyes glinted in the magelight. “Aye. That it is.”