by Carnath-Emory » Wed May 09, 2007 9:51 am
The bizarre. The peculiar. The slightly off.
Myrken Wood bids you welcome, Cinnabar Calomel.
But whatever the facts of that matter, he will discover that the sharp angles of her have gradually relented, on discovering his withdrawal a certain thing. That fingertips linger upon the mask's edge might be reckoned an undue paranoia, but only a short-lived one: once Calomel is settled back into his seat, her hand is seizing the mask for true, a heavy dash of it against the table's edge serving to shatter the ugly thing into a cloud of coarse splinters. That quirk of a smile which follows this is undoubtedly smug, and just as cautious; for a time, bleak hours are written into her gaze.
"Very good. So do I now, mn? Ah, this hand... he reckons himself above the all of them, I think; I cannot be sure of this, of course. Nothing is sure, as concerns this man. At his bidding, the world becomes ... strange and uncertain around me..."
Ah, a small shake of the head dismisses this as so much conjecture, as fantastic beyond the point of being useful. Her hand lifts, her head bows to blow sawdust in a fine cloud from its palm...
"Does he oppose the Baie? Perhaps. He says nothing which suggests that he cares. He -- ah. I tell you how I come to know of Bea Kanaya, mn? Then perhaps you understand a little of it. For he comes to me in the night, this masked thing, yes? With his terrible voice and his ragged robes, and says to me that I must follow, that the Order's time is at hand, the hour is now. So I follow, mn? Down through the tavern, into its very cellars, where a wall folds aside to reveal their new meeting-place."
A pause here, to watch what he shall make of that, this very clever man. This man who knows his heart.
"There we saw ... ah, such a gathering: you can imagine it, yes? A hundred and more of them, each in their robes. Faces that I recognised from my first visit to their gatherings: Beucol, Halfplow; the others. I walked amongst them, but only for a time: it was the slab for me, you see? Only that very soon, I did not, for there stood Thadius with his knife for my eyes, and such faces stood at his sides: oh, Council and Straka and all such sorts, and others besides. And Bea Kanaya as well, you have realised this, yes? And -- "
There remain some things yet which are not for the Constable's hearing. One of them is omitted this very moment, and with hardly an instant's pause the narrative concludes:
"-- so I died.
"I would not petition this thing for his aid, ser. I think he would find it ... oh, wond'rous if I did, as one finds a child's pretense with swords such a marvel, mn? I think I might not hear the end of his laughter, and even if it were not so, how do you propose to manage such a thing?
"For ser, he cannot be found."