Thursday, May 21, 2009
Tidehall, Midmorning 2nd Day – Lara, Daeron, Crefley
Lara watches as another barrel of salted fish is loaded aboard the troupe wagons. Most of the troupe’s provisions are already stowed, and then it would be the tents, which are being struck by the older boys and eldest men. The younger children are playing “drop-the-handkerchief” among the carts and are cheering as one of the troupe boys runs quickly around the circle followed by a girl half his age. Lara notices, along with the red- and brown-haired children, two unfamiliar blondes heads, bobbing and laughing. Upon closer inspection, she recognizes them as Ser Sigurd’s girls, playing with the troupe children. Their mother, round as a melon with what must be twins and due last month, waddles toward Lara when she notices her watching. “My girls love the puppets and the games. It’ll be sad to see your troupe go.” She smiles conspiratorially, “I’m Yasmin. My husband mentioned you were in our hallway last night, helping him keep Ser Bohemund on his leash.“ Her gaze returns to the children. “Which of the little ones is yours?”
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Daeron sits within the covered wooden battlement atop the Falcon tower. Stone for its construction was a wedding gift from the Mallisters to; actually, Daeron could not recall. One of his great uncles, he thought. All the history that the Maester had been trying to teach him ran together. Although the Falcon tower was the most southern of Tidehall’s towers, it was a full 4 floors taller than the Old Tower, and offered a commanding view of the surrounding countryside and water below. At this height, the children shouting among the wagons were a mere whisper.
ReplyDeleteThe Falcon tower is also home to the rookery. The birds quork and caw in their cages. The Maester has been complaining that one of his best birds had disappeared, but his face is dark now for a different reason. He takes the far-eyes from Daeron, and scans the horizon.
“Fog is quite thick, but no doubt about it, my lord. Four sails, moving in unison, making for the port. Three triangular sails, like those of the free cities, but one is an ironborn vessel for certain. Shall we sound an alarm?”
Crefley is on his haunches, slathering fresh mortar over the cracked stone. He is up to his shins in muddy sand at the bottom of the empty moat; the waters had receded only an hour earlier. Now is the only time to make repairs, and he had been tasked with doing so before the waters fill the channel again. The previous work had been shoddy, and only lasted a few months. Tarbin, the chief builder of Tidehall stands above him at the lip of the moat, calling down unsolicited instructions. He imagines this is punishment for some perceived slight. Or perhaps it’s just his lot to be unlucky.
ReplyDeleteAs he moves slightly further down the moat, he trips over something buried in the sand, but keeps his footing. He turns to look at what had almost sent him sprawling.
The body of a young man lays half-buried in the muck. Lee is shocked it took him so long to note it. It appears fresh and is fully clothed in roughspun. The clasp on his faded blue cloak bears a yellow enamel heron. Perhaps, Lee reflects as Tarbin curses from the top of the moat, he isn’t the unlucky one.
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ooc: in case you guys are wondering - this is redline's new PC. Be nice, and I'm sure he'll introduce himself.
oh, and an awareness(notice) check and knowledge(education) check, that'd be swell.
"I'm Lara, pleased to meet you Yasmin." She greets the woman warmly. She follows her gaze out to the gaggle of playing children.
ReplyDeleteLara smiles thinly. "Sadly, none of them are mine. What kind of life is this for a child, anyway? The hardship of the road, the constant travel; as soon as you've grown accustomed to staying in one place, it's already time to move on. It's hard to feel safe anywhere..."
Lara catches herself, noting the edge of bitterness that has crept into her voice. "I'm sorry, Lady Sigurd, I'm just sad to be seeing Tidehall go. The troupe, though, they're like my family. They took me in. Niccolo he..." Lara stops, it wasn't like her to confide in a near stranger.
"Besides if you need entertainment, may I suggest putting Ser Bohemund in mummer's robes? You may have heard that I bested him in a contest of throwing axes, but less well known is that he bested me at a contest of mummery."
Of all the back-breaking, tedious repairs that Tidehall needed, re-mortaring the moat was actually not the worst that Lee had been subjected too. Lee thought the moat was one of the more remarkable pieces of engineering in Tidehall and he enjoyed working on it.
ReplyDeleteUnfortunately for Lee, he had a tendency to talk back to his master when he was in a good mood (also when in a bad mood), which often led to long hours or beatings.
"Surely not even your last apprentice could have done this shoddy work, Tarbin. Did you do this yourself? Where did you learn to mortar, with your wetnurse spreading jam on your biscuits?" Lee regretted it as soon as it slipped out, but it was too late.
Lee stumbled and looked down to see what he tripped on. The wind left his body and the color his cheeks as he looked at the corpse. Bad memories came washing back. Mother. Father. He tried to to push them back. His bravado gone, he managed to stammer, "Ta... Tarbin, the... there's a body in the moat."
----
Awareness 5 (3,1,1) Awesome!
Knowledge 16 (6,4,3,3,2)
The pregnant woman’s guffaws of laughter are more in keeping with her sailor husband than a lady. “I’ve only seen Bohemund on the practice yard. My dear husband assures me that on the field of battle, no one laughs at him. Though I must agree, he would look rather appropriate in a motley hat.”
ReplyDeleteLara is somewhat surprised to hear a compliment for Ser Bohemund from Ser Sigurd, even filtered through his lady wife. Yasmin claps her hands loudly enough that most all the children turn to look. “Esly, Meera. Come along, young ladies. The septa will not be half so kind if she finds you.” The girls finish the round of their game, and run to join their mother. Both of them look admiringly at Lara and curtsey. “Show us a trick!” “No, a song!” The elder one, Meera, eyes grow large as she spies the slender throwing dagger tucked at Lara’s side. “Mother, she gets to have one! Why can’t I?”
“To your studies, now.” She speaks in a tone that only mother’s have, and the girls make haste toward the nearest doorway. Yasmin turns back to Lara. “My apologies about the girls, Lara. They are always headstrong when their father is at sea, and it is made worse now that I can’t keep up with them. So, where are you traveling, then?”
Niccolo’s crisp voice rings out behind Lara, with just a tinge of sadness, “To the Vale.”
Crefley tries his best to shake off the memories that overwhelm him, but stillcannot bear to look at the body. However, he recognizes the sigil and by the manner of dress, determines this to be Ser Rymon’s squire. The Runningbrook knight and his squire were ofttimes visitors at Tidehall; Lee was reasonably certain he had seen the squire alive the day before.
ReplyDeleteWhen he calls this information up, Tarbin lowers the rope ladder over the side of the channel so that Lee might scramble up. Lee decides to wait until he reaches the top to remark on the poor craftsmanship of the rough wooden rungs.
“Well, you’re the ‘engineer.’ How do you suppose we fish him out? I imagine if he is Ser Rymon’s shieldbearer he won’t look kindly on us leaving him in the muck for the tide to bring him to us. I’ll go fetch the silent sisters, one look at you and even they would scream. You find a way to fetch him.” Tarbin turns and crosses a small footbridge. ‘One of my footbridges’ thought Lee in a burst of pride, as Tarbin heads towards Tannyr’s Quay and the Sept.
ooc: Tried to post this last night, but I guess the internet gerbils were hungry...
ReplyDelete-----
Taking back his far-eyes from Aldrik, Daeron looks again at the incoming ships.
"Yes, have everyone man their post, but do so quietly; runners only. And make sure the sea-chain is ready for use. Who'd Sigurd leave in charge of the remaining fleet?"
Something about the events of the last two days didn't seem right to Daeron. Turning from the sea, he looked north, where the fires were seen last night, and then began to view the entire country side, circling the tower and using his Myrish prize to examine any identifying features or anomalies he could see from the tower.
"Where on the beach has that Iron priest been ranting and raving?"
----
Awareness (6,2,2)+3= 13
"I will see to it immediately. Gramm has the watch at the sea-chain. I will speak to him personally and ensure he knows to be alert in case it is needed." Daeron remembers meeting Gramm shortly after arriving at Tidehall. He made the doubled error of trying to shake his hand. Firstly, as an heir to Gilder, he was informed such a greeting of a lowborn former seaguard was unwarranted; secondly because Gramm had lost his right hand in an accident. Aldrik nods to himself, making a list of his tasks and recalling information from his memory. "Captain Gribbs of the Morningstar has command of our ships here, a capable man, if not terribly imaginative. The priest holds his sermons on the beach I hear, but the Septon knows more than I."
ReplyDeleteDaeron scans along the coastline. A small finger of smoke still rises, and appears to coming from land only a few yards from the water's edge. Tannyr's Quay is bustling in a quite ordinary way for this time of morning. The markets are alive with tents and tables, the crystals from the top of the sept throw bright colors along the roofs nearby. The port has received 2 vessels since the night before, both small coastal skiffs or fishing boats, and the cove looks rather empty with only the Morningstar and Wanderlust sitting at anchor. A decidedly small crowd has gathered on the beach, only a dozen or so men. The priest and two other men are standing apart from the rest, backing away as if frightened, although the others are keeping their distance. The ships on the horizon are keeping tight formation, and appear to be taking in sail to row the rest of the distance to the cove.
Lara feels the blood drain from her face. She turns toward Niccolo to hide the sight from Yasmin.
ReplyDeleteShe takes a second to compose herself. She turns back to Yasmin.
"Yasmin, tell your girls I'll both wow them with a trick and dazzle them with a song before I leave Tidehall. If you'll excuse me."
She grabs Niccolo's elbow and drags him behind one of the wagons. She tries to keep her roiling emotions in check as she examines his face.
"The troupe can't go there! You know that I..." She trails off, and squeezes her eyes shut. It was too much. "Niccolo, why? Just... explain."
"Hey, Walt," Crefley shouts to one of the other servants. "Could you give me a hand with one of the bridges. We're going to move it over here and secure it and then pull the body up."
ReplyDeleteLee also approaches one of the guards. "We found a body in the moat. Its Ser Rymon's squire. Might want to tell whoever is in charge."
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Rolling everything that might be relevant:
Athletics: Strength 14 (6, 4, 2, 2, 2)
Athletics: Climb 21 (6, 6, 5, 4, 2)
Cunning 14 (6, 4, 3, 1)
Knowledge: Education (Architecture) 23 (6, 5, 5, 4, 3)
Persuasion 7 (4,3)
Will: Coordinate 10 (4, 4, 2)
ooc: I also want to look at the body to try to determine cause of death unless that's what my earlier awareness roll was for.
ReplyDelete----------------------
Awareness 9 (6, 2, 1)
Niccolo hangs his head in a mixture of exasperation and shame. “It’s my fault, Lara. I know better than to push him. When we met to decide our next destination, we started as always by dividing the families’ coin. He mislaid 40 stags, probably an accident. I called Cesare a swindler, half a jest, but he was furious. It had nothing to do with you.” Niccolo sits on a nearby barrel, and continues, “When I saw he was going to fight me on our next city, I said, ‘Fine you old fool, anywhere but the Vale’ and he began insisting. You know the rules as well as I. If we cannot agree, the troupe decides. I fought for you, Lara, but you made me swear never to speak of the things that happened there, and I could not break my word, even for this. He wove a beautiful tale of the money to be had in those mountains, and had the votes. If you hadn’t been in town, maybe you could have convinced them.“ He looks up and continues, ”Maybe on the road, we can muster support and divert the troupe south, to Lannisport, or down to King’s Landing. We have had good luck there before.”
ReplyDeleteLara knows there is little hope of diverting the troupe once the vote is made. It is the way of things; a vote is as sacred to the troupe as a septon’s blessing, probably moreso.
Niccolo stands and puts his hand on her shoulder firmly. “You will be safe if you stay with us. We can keep a good watch, I’ll have Vincenze and Marrio outside your wagon each night, and who knows if they even are looking for you anymore?”
As Lara considers his words, she notes that Yasmin is leaning in the open door to the tower, her eyes are watching Lara intently.
Walt is, even by the standards of lowborn servants, simple and slovenly. But he has a strong back and with Lee’s careful direction they set to their task. Lee’s bridges were all the same modular design; a series of spans the length of a man made of layered wood, supported by paired truss work underneath. Walt is able to maneuver the middle section of the nearest plank bridge off it supports and drop it safely to the bottom of the moat. Lee lashes on rope, and with Walt’s help drags the body onto the planks. From there, it is only a matter using the support beams as a pulley and winching up the lot. The guardsman, who until now had been ignoring Lee’s request, sees the corpse and decides he might want to report it.
ReplyDeleteOnce finished, Lee carefully repairs the bridge, and finally has a chance to examine the body. Walt says, “looks like a cutpurse got him,” and points to a series of dagger wounds, closely spaced below the right ribs. Walt’s words, however, don’t make much sense, as a small pouch is seen at his belt that would have been irresistible to any thief that Lee had ever met. He sees Ser Rymon and Lady Castriati exit through the postern gate, and they begin walking his way.
Lara's shoulders slump as she listens to Niccolo's story. "40 stags," she shakes her head, "Cesare and his damn thin skin."
ReplyDelete"Niccolo, I need time. I need to think," Lara chews her lip. She looks at the wagons around them. She watches the faces of the her troupe working loudly to pack up camp. Some of the children throw a chicken leg back and forth and Lara's dog chases it relentlessly. A red-headed boy, Armand Russios, is diligently carving the face on a puppet, working his knife blade into the hard wood with his thumb. At the far wagons Cesare yells at Gregory Grissio who has just dragged one of the troupe's colorful and intricately woven banners through the Tidehall courtyard mud. She can't help but smile.
Turning she sees Yasmin leaning against a tower. On the battlements, the soldiers manning the walls are strangely quiet, tense and wary. The practice yard, usually filled at this hour with Daeron's yelps and Ser Roger's fiercesome cries lies silent and unused.
Niccolo is watching her sadly from his perch on the barrel. Lara looks at the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, and at the shock of white hairs at his temples set against his otherwise dark hair. These features give him a respectable air of gravity, Lara thinks, the kind of thing you always want in an actor. It was the kind of gravity needed to play the imposing monarch, or the stern patriarch. He watched her intently, his dark eyes studying her reactions with a palpable intensity. That too he used on stage. It was the withering stare of the villian, or the defiant glare of the hero.
Impulsively she throws her arms around Niccolo. Niccolo, surprised, jumps back off the barrel, but after his initial shock stands stoicly still in Lara's embrace.
Lara slowly pulls back, her red hidden behind her hair. She sheepishly pushes a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. "Sorry," she mumbles. "Thank you, Niccolo. For everything."
She smiles, the wide easy smile of a mummer about to reveal the punchline. That smile in place, she turns towards Yasmin. She covers the distance between them at a quick pace. "Sorry about that," she rolls her eyes as she comes to a stop in front of the pregnant woman, "Actors! You know how they are, always some crisis or another that needs handling. A pregnant woman knows that the only true crisis in the world is that breakfast is so distantly followed by lunch. I hope you wouldn't object too terribly to accompanying me to the kitchen and seeing what we can pick up? An apple and a juicy rumor would certainly hit the spot for me."
Lee drops down on one knee as the highborn approach and lowers his face letting his longish brown hair obscure as much of his face as he can. "Milady, Ser Rymon, I am dreadful sorrowful for this news. I found him in the moat not twenty minutes ago."
ReplyDeleteA thin smile plays at Yasmin’s lips when Lara’s joke. “Indeed, I do know how actors can be,” she says in a way that Lara fears means she overhead more of her conversation with Niccolo than she would have liked.
ReplyDeleteThe two women arrive at the kitchens, where 3 serving boys and half a dozen cooks scramble to ready meals for midday. The boys are loading salted meats, cheeses, fruit and fresh loaves into baskets to be taken to men at their posts; the sheer number of baskets convince Lara that most of the men will be staying on the walls through lunch. The girls are baking and emptying casks of thinned wine and ale into small jugs to be taken to the sentries as well. The flurry of activity is under the close scrutiny of Marta Rivers, head cook at Tidehall. Not a particularly handsome woman, she bears a striking resemblance to Gilder, less most of his beard, and Lara’s half-remembered recollection of Erryk as well, less his general sallow appearance. Well into middle age, she appears to have taken the kitchen as her roost, and clucks accordingly.
When Yasmin enters behind Lara, one of the serving girls stops her task, and approaches with a curtsey. Yasmin barks commands for a basket of food: pickled beets, lemon tarts, a ripe green apple, assorted meats and cheeses and ale. She shares a glance with Lara, “Beets, like his father. I hate beets, but he always wants them. What am I to do? Neither of the girls care for them, that’s how I know it’s a boy. That and the way he kicks me in the ribs when I do my knitting.” The girl returns shortly with her package, which Yasmin passes to Lara with a nod.
The women retreat from the kitchen to a small balcony with a view of the yard and wagons below. Two maids that are cleaning the railing and giggling to each other in the corner eye Yasmin warily, and then retreat from the balcony. “I’m not much good for rumors these days, I’m afraid. The girls see the belly or my husband’s ‘Ser’ and all go about curtseying.” She stabs a wriggling red beet with the point of a fine knife, and pops it in her mouth with a sour expression. “But, I imagine you have a good story for me, all the same. I’ve never been to the Vale, but I take it you have.”
Neither Ser Rymon nor Lady Ayala respond to Lee directly. Lady Ayala stands at some distance, covering her mouth with one hand, but not turning away. Rymon walks over to examine the man more closely. As Lee watches his face, it seems that Ser Rymon is not surprised to see his squire’s pale corpse, and his examining of the body is a cursory affair. He plucks the enamel pin from his cloak with a jerk, but leaves the body otherwise unmolested. “Boy, what is your name?” Ser Rymon inquires. Lee responds, and then Rymon continues, “Crefley, see that his body is well tended by the Sisters and prepared for transport. His father will want to burn him on a pyre, I imagine – such is their way.” He sets a gold dragon the squire’s chest, and hands a stag to both Walt and Crefley directly. “See that this is kept quiet. I wouldn’t want word of this spreading to his father before we can bring his son home.”
ReplyDeleteWith that, Ser Rymon and Lady Ayala retreat back to the castle. Walt looks at the stag in Crefley’s hand, and says “Best hide that, Tarbin is comin’ up the hill with the Sisters.” Indeed, Tarbin is some 200 yards off down the hill, followed by two women in the robes of the sisters, making a slow ascent in their direction.
ooc: Sam’s internet has been out for awhile, so he gave me his actions, which I will relay here. Hopefully he can return from the dark ages soon. Awareness:notice 6, Knowledge: 13
ReplyDelete----------- -
Maester Aldrik returns, out of breath from the long flight of stairs and heavy bundle in his arms. “Milord, I delivered your messages, and the men stand ready. I took the liberty of meeting with Gramm at the sea-chain personally. He says he will do what he can, but the winch has been somewhat unreliable of late, and often slips a link. He worries that if it meets with a vessel at high speed, it may not hold. The moat is empty now, but the tide is with us. It should fill by mid afternoon and I took the liberty of ordering the sluices closed.” He begins assembling his bundle, a slender tripod on which a thin bronze tube is mounted. “This was a gift when I was still a boy who thought himself a man, only a year or so older than you. I used to chart the stars and look for changes in the seasons. Now, it gathers dust, more often than not – my eyes were always better for squinting at numbers than at charts.” He opens a long pine box lined with silk and wool, to reveal two additional lengths of tube and two lenses, one the size of a platter, the other the size of a coin. After assembling the tube, he urges Daeron to take a look.
The sea leaps into view as he scans along the coastline. He sees the men onboard Morningstar running out oars and moving the ship towards the opening of the harbor. As he scans the horizon, he finds the ships, still quite a ways from shore. The fog has pulled back, and now all four ships can be viewed clearly. The sails have been furled and the colors snapping at the stern of one of the free city’s ships is pushed straight back and impossible to make out from this angle. He notes that one of the free city’s ships as well as the Ironborn ship show marks of recent battle; scarred and broken wood and bright scrapes in their iron prows. Daeron also notes the figure heads: a crystalline woman’s face, a shouting man in halfhelm with an outthrust sword, dangling chains with open manacles, and on the ironborn vessel a busty mermaid, with rivulets of red painted down her cheeks. He calls these figureheads to Maester Aldrik, whose brow furrows. “That’s Ice Maiden, Eugar’s Wrath, and Iron Breaker; I do not know this other ship.” As he speaks, an even volley of three arrows, aflame and trailing black smoke, are loosed from the deck of the ship he identified as Ice Maiden. They travel in a high arc high before descending into the sea. “But I do know that signal. It appears your uncle Gilder has returned. Shall I stand down the watch?”
Lee glanced down at the coin. "What does he expect me to do with this?" Lee thinks. "If I try to use this anyone is going to believe I stole it, even a moneychanger if I try to turn it into smaller coins. And where would I put those?" Lee sighs and puts the coin in his pouch. As one who had witnessed the deaths of those close to him, and seen others die, even as young as he was and as faint as the memories were, he was surprised how stoic Rymon and Ayala were. "The Brooks must be a cold hearted brood," he thought. He still couldn't shake the awful feeling inside. He glanced down at the body. "I need to get some air."
ReplyDeleteHe turned and walked to meet Tarbin and the Sisters. "The body is over there. I'm going to attend to my other duties," he said to Tarbin and moved to walk away, hoping not to be stopped. "Rymon can tend to his own dead squire," he thought to himself, "he's nothing to me, I've already dealt with my fair share of death."
ooc: This is from Sam via email, as his internet is still flaky. I'll post a response to this and the other posts in a few. BR
ReplyDeleteDoes the house have any small ships? If so, one should be sent out to
greet the incoming ships. Daeron shows signs of releif at the signals
interpretation, but does not stand down the guard; whatever caused the
big fire is still out there, et c. In fact, he takes the oppurtunity
to re-view the various sights around the keep with this new device.
Tarbin begins to protest, but his usual colorful language is checked by the presence of the Sisters, and Lee makes his way back to the walls of Tidehall. The water is already beginning to flow into the channel, so mortaring will have to wait for another day. He has little desire to return to the mud anyway. He has two other tasks before him today: one of Tarbin’s choosing: repairing a few slats of fence around the practice yard near the kennels, which meant collecting lumber from the yard, sawing planks to length, and a few hours of hammering. The other task is his own: he has a mind to add a copper pipe and drain off the main cistern line to run over the fire in the kitchen. When it rains, as it does every few days, the pipe would produce a hot water ‘spring’ for the kitchen girls before running down to the cistern, without the need for buckets. He’d seen the design in one of the books in Maester Aldrik’s library, and knows of a merchant in town who could get him the pipe. It would require a few measurements, time to reexamine the book and then he could begin. Of course, if Tarbin finds out, he is like to be cross, especially after abandoning him with the body.
ReplyDeleteOoc: I rolled an awareness for you – 15.
ReplyDelete----------
The fishing skiff that Daeron had Aldrik dispatch with a few Seaguards aboard arrives alongside the warships, and tethers to the stern of the Ice Maiden. From his vantage atop the Falcon Tower, Daeron spies a man he believes to be his Uncle Gilder, wearing a leather hauberk dyed the green and gold of his house and with a sword on his hip, exit from a cabin to greet the men aboard the skiff. They seem to recognize him, and appear relaxed.
Daeron watches briefly, and then turns his attention to the north. With the greater magnification on this far-eyes, he can seen a dark smear near the shore, and a thin line of smoke extending above it. It is difficult to make out more than that. As he scans over town, he notes that the crowd on the beach has dispersed, and the ships in the harbor are busily loading and unloading goods. It appears a shipment has just arrived, although from the assortment of barrels and crates it is difficult to tell where from.
The ships are beginning to enter the cove when Maester Aldrik reappears. “Master Daeron, shall we go meet your Uncle? I am certain he will want to be informed of last night’s events. And your aunt, the Lady Ayala, has asked to accompany you, if you choose to go.”
Lara leans against the balcony edge - a studied posed of nonchalance.
ReplyDelete"Ah, the Vale. I did grow up there, but without embellishment it is a rather dull story. I'm sure I can spin you a finer tale." She eyes the ripe green apple, her stomach growling hungrily.
"However, it would set a bad example if I gave you any tale without price. I do have a reputation to maintain," Lara says. She drops her voice to a quiet whisper. "Though, I might be able to give you a free performance of 'The Legend of Ser Malcolm at the Haunted Stones' it's a favorite among the elder kitchen staff - especially the women. I must warn you, its a bit risque - and I think a bit fanciful - I doubt that even as a young man Ser Malcolm had half the stamina the tale suggests. It's best done in the kitchen, and I'm afraid I may have disrupted timely dinner service once or twice with it. Come, I'm sure with Marta running the kitchen it will be well received."
Yasmin tosses Lara the apple with a sly grin. “There’s your price to not tell that story. It happens I was at the Haunted Stones during the Rebellion. More of it is true than you’d care believe; the girls were frightened, I daresay, and Ser Malcolm found them pliable enough. Not that I fell under his charms, of course. I was an old maid wed by then, to my dear husband, back when he was 1st mate on the Sparrowsong, and months away at sea.” She tears at one of the rolls hungrily, “As for Ser Malcolm’s stamina, he snored loudly as he slept during the day; bet that’s not in your version of the tale. But, he was always awake through the night, one way or another. I imagine that kept us safe whenever the raider scouts came by, or at least that’s what he would tell you.”
ReplyDeleteYasmin’s face turns more serious, “I heard most of what Niccolo had to say. These mother’s ears or that clear voice of his, I guess. I take it you would be in danger were you to travel to the Vale, at the least. Keep your secrets, I need to know little more than that. I guess you could find your way on your own better than most, but even under the peace of summer and the Crowned Stag, I’d not want to be a woman alone on the Kingsroad. I offer you a place here, instead. My girls could use the entertainment, as could the girls in the kitchen, and I have Lady Ayala’s ear – she will keep you if I wish it. You’ve not caused any trouble here, or I’d have heard it, I’m sure. If I do hear it, you’ll have the road as a bed by the morrow. You could spend most your time as you like and ply your trade, but I will ask you see after my girls from time to time. Their father is at sea often, and I will have the little one to tend before long. We have troupes and singers here, from time to time. Mayhap you’ll find a place with one of them that’s not headed the wrong way.”
Crefly pondered his options. He's already done at least two things to anger Tarbin today. Would not doing the repairs and working on the pipe instead get him a beating? On the other hand, to do the repairs he would have to be by the kennels all day. Not a pleasant thought given how he was already feeling. "Since today is already a bad day might as well do it now rather than it have it ruin tomorrow," Crefley said to himself as he went to gather his tools and collect the lumber, making sure to grab his crossbow and dagger--You could never trust dogs.
ReplyDeleteLara catches the apple Yasmin throws her and listens in growing amazement to her words. She can scarecely believe her luck.
ReplyDeleteFor the third time in the last two days, Lara feels her facade crumble away.
"Thank you," she throws her arms around the older woman's neck, going on her toes to careful avoid Yasmin's full belly. It is the second time today she had been reduced to such childish displays of emotions Lara notes as she disentangles herself from Yasmin. "I promise you, I'll take care of Esly and Meera as if they were my own. And I promise one day I'll tell you the whole sordid tale, so you can know exactly how much you've done for me today."
Lara steps back from Yasmin and catches her breath. Lara looks down at her bare hands with a sudden sense of confusion. "Now where did that apple go..." Lara looks over the balcony ledge. In the courtyard below is a bright green apple - ripe and uneaten.
"Damn."
Whoever had sawn the planks had either been very frightened or had a case of the fits. The jagged cuts makes for delicate, slow handling to avoid splinters. The posts are sound enough, so the work is primarily remove a single rotten board, and then hammer a new one of vaguely the same shape into place. The finished product will look quite striped, but after a few rains would even in color. The kennelmaster, Reuben, does not appear to be in the dog run. The dogs for their part are unusually quiet, and watch Lee with keen interest as he works. His eldest son Martin does appear as Lee is moving to get his last load of planks, and the dogs begin wildly barking as they anticipate their midday meal.
ReplyDeleteLee is happy to be walking away from the sounds of snarling hounds. As he turns the corner, an apple, bright green and beautiful as if it had been picked moments before, descends from above, and lands about a pace in front of him. He looks up to see where it might have come from, and a few moments later sees a girl peering down from the balcony above him, although she appears to only see the apple.
“Of course, of course. Very well. I will speak to Ayala this evening, then. You would do well to introduce yourself and make appropriate courtesies when next you see her.” Yasmin stands, and straightens her skirts, making to leave. “I assume there are things you will need to attend to with your troupe. When you’re finished, see if you can find a groom to carry your belongings to the servant’s quarters. You’ll have to room with one of the maids or kitchen girls until we find a more permanent place for you. As the House’s mummer-in-residence, no doubt we can. Not the same as a tent or wagon, either way.” Yasmin smiles and departs to her business, leaving Lara alone on the balcony.
ReplyDeleteCrefley picks up the apple then looks up at the girl. He visualizes the throw and the arc then whistles to get her attention
ReplyDelete"Hey! Catch."
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ooc: Marskmanship 18 (6,6,4,2)
Yasmin's departure gives Lara a chance to catch her breath.
ReplyDelete"Mummer-in-residence." She says to herself, testing the sound of the words. "Lara Clearwater, Mummer-in-residence. I think I could get used to that."
Assuming of course Lady Castriati agrees to it, Lara ammends silently. She frowns. Perhaps she shouldn't perform "The Tidelord and the Cold Fish" after all.
she hears a shout from the courtyard. She looks down to see a man holding her apple. She jumps back hands outstretched in surprise as he tosses it to her.
The apple arcs through the air, landing gently in Lara's hands as if dropped.
"Nice throw," Lara calls down. She gives the apple a cursory cleaning with her shirt - which probably does more to clean the shirt than the apple - before she takes a bite.
"I'm Lara, mummer-in-residence (presumptive)," Lara calls down. "Who are you my food tossing friend? I don't suppose you're going to be asking for me to toss down any meat pies?"
"Yes, let's go meet my uncle." Daeron steps away from Aldrik's device and heads into the keep.
ReplyDeleteMaester Aldrik says, "As you wish. I will stay here, and tend to my duties. I am not much for riding, and would likely only break my neck on those rough cobblestones near the quay." He retreats in the direction of his rooms.
ReplyDeleteAfter a quick wash and a change of clothes, Daeron enters the yard. He sees that his horse is being saddled by a groom, and notes that his lady Aunt is already aseat on a silver grey mare. She glances up as he approaches. Her smile for Daeron is sweet and sincere, but she continues to chat with a pregnant highborn woman at her stirrup. Ser Rymon is mounted beside her, in a blue doublet patterned with tiny golden herons and fish. He looks as if he has eaten something that has gone sour, and tugs at the reins of his charger.
Ser Bohemund approaches, and says "I've only a few spears to send with you, but I doubt you'll need any. Permission to open the gates?" A group of eight guardsmen have gathered near the gatehouse.
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ooc:Both Lee and Lara see this flurry of activity.
"Uhm... Cref... Crefley," Crefley managaes to croak as he looks down, suddenly conscious of his cracking voice and the scars on his face.
ReplyDelete"No meat pies. It'll just rile up the dogs. I've got work to do," He says and starts to walk off.
Daeron looks at the escort and nods at them. "Yes, Ser Bohemund, open the gate and we'll be off." He walks up to Wesley, whispers in its ear, steps back, looks into its eye and says, "Agreed?" then mounts his horse, taking a moment to situate in the saddle.
ReplyDelete"Bye Cref-Crefley," Lara calls out, trying to mask her annoyance that he doesn't seem to feel the same elation she does. Lara props her elbows on the balcony's enclosing wall, and takes a bite of her apple. She winces as she does - partly from the tartness, but mostly because she sees the troupe wagons.
ReplyDeleteShe will have to tell Niccolo now - if he didn't already know from her thoughtless display. First, she decides, she was going to finish her apple. Within in a few minutes she has nervously reduced it to nothing more than its core. She tosses the core into the air and catches it again. She looks over to the Tidehall wall that faces out to the ocean and throws the apple core as far as she can.
She doesn't stop to see where it would impact - in the sea as intended with all other manner of Tidehall refuse, on the back of some poor guard's head.
She slides through the kitchen quickly before someone could ask her for a song and emerges back out into the courtyard. She scans the troupe members loading the wagons for Niccolo.
ooc: This thread is closing - will begin consolidation in an above thread.
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