by Carnath-Emory » Wed Sep 19, 2007 6:05 am
"Mm. Like the eyes of their Chosen, Okulari, do you see?" It's an unfortunate choice of words, but one must expect that of this woman; her grasp of the common tongue remains far from perfect. "There was even a time he wore it inked upon his body, but perhaps the Order, they do not know this; perhaps they saw only the robes. It matters little, mn?"
And she is sinking back in her seat then, is taking up teacup in place of charcoal, and sipping sparingly of its coarse contents. This is all of it difficult talk, after all -- for such a fledgling mind, for a woman who's certainly chosen a side in things, but .. in so unconventional a sense. What Cinnabar describes has struck her as a remarkable sort of sabotage, as something not unlike the posters they'd found scattered upon Myrkentown walls months and months ago, but simpler by far.
A person needn't read, to catch the message Calomel intends.
A person needn't even much think.
"But you must have care," she is advising, this woman who is surely not equipped to do any such thing. "It was for their victims, that word. The girls, the bakery, the Fletcher's boy."
This last addition is an anomaly, of course. He'd flung himself from that chapel's spire, and not a body'd been near to make him do it. Cinnabar Calomel has described the power of symbols, and now he sees it in action, right here at his table.
"For themselves, it was but the robes, the knives. But it is ... a good thing, this doubt," she's nodding slowly, in any case. "This suspicion, it is what they once meant to create, I think. So you use it for your own purpose, mn? As have I, for had Kerrak al'Nerun not reckoned them monsters one and all, then I -- "
Ah, but there is no need to complete that statement, and so she will not. Instead there is some very brief aversion of her features, behind some hang of dark hair, and a moment's reaching for composure before she turns a speculative gaze towards that chessboard. Thin fingers touch to the black pieces, isolating its king, save for its dark knight --
And a sole bishop.
"The dreamwitch," she murmurs then, with a tap of forefinger upon that piece. "Galacia -- do you know that she so plagued Bromn's mind? I did not tell you much of this, when he was -- " Here. Governor. Both. "I do not mean to do him more harm than he's already had, not even to his reputation, mn? But I think ... I can not do this, not no more.
"She did prey upon his mind, his dreams. Lamai Carver, she held a place within his thoughts; for months she had done this, to keep Galacia from them, and she describes it as .. a difficult thing. Perhaps this witch, she does not like him. And perhaps it was because he was Governor.
"But now, of course, he is not."