by Cinnabar » Sun Oct 28, 2012 3:13 am
He could only nod in agreement at Glenn's determination to do what he could for Maxwell, another casualty of Myrken's... of Myrken.
Unspoken or not, Cinnabar could make some guesses as to the new location of the statue, based on what he would do; somewhere secure, somewhere away from the general population, somewhere hidden. The hills and mountains have mines, empty or abandoned warrens of old tunnels, for instance, where the statue might lie undiscovered in the dark for... well, forever. To bury it seemed equally feasible - hide it deep, beneath something solid that would be difficult to remove. Weight it with stones and drop it into the marshes of Ghreu Fenn to sink in the mire, as it had lain at the bottom of Silver Lake for untold years.
There were options.
The matter of Catch was a thornier one, complex and vague. The instruction to start with the first meeting had Calomel quiet for a time, gaze drifting above and to one side of the Governor's head. Composing his thoughts. Eventually his eyes returned to meet Glenn's,
"The meeting itself went fairly well - an introduction, building a connection, the discovery of some boundaries. My aim was to get his measure. To see how he acted, how he spoke, and hence how he thinks." The description of his goals was matter-of-fact, as if the process was almost routine to him. Observe, analyse, infer, understand.
"Some things came up, which you may not know, or which you may know but didn't mention before." Not so much an accusation as a recognition that the Governor shares only what he believes to be pertinent. Perhaps he'd not wished to taint Calomel's findings. Perhaps he'd simply not considered such details relevant.
"First, Catch's history. Bearing in mind that this is based on what Catch told me, and I've had to do a degree of interpretation." Which may, itself, involve assumptions that are flawed or just plain wrong. He settled back in his chair, fingers lacing loosely before him.
"By his account he is old. His earliest memories are from a long time ago, or far away, or both. He was born to a people who lived wild, wearing furs and dancing under the moon. Mothers and sisters and aunts - no mention made of fathers, brothers or uncles." Perhaps significant, perhaps not.
"They loved animals and the wild, could Become animals - he claims his mother had a wolf's head - but were different from the woman, Kacela. He was clear on that point. They wore their furs on the outside, not within." No effort made to hide his distaste for the wild woman, a flicker of still-smouldering anger at her mention.
"There was tension between those who lived wild and those who didn't. His mother was killed, her head crushed. He understands that others would crush his head also, if they thought they could."