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Author Topic: Maidens of Mayhem Chapter 17  (Read 2713 times)

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Offline Evie

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Maidens of Mayhem Chapter 17
« on: July 14, 2010, 11:06:15 pm »
Chapter Seventeen


      
   An hour and a half after midnight.  The sacristy at Nyford Cathedral was shrouded in darkness as the raven-haired lad silently appeared inside the deserted room.  He cast a quick look around, blue-violet eyes wary, then relaxed as it became clear no one was around to notice his arrival.

   Still, the circumstances warranted the utmost caution.  He pulled stealth around him like a concealing cloak, using his innate powers to help enhance his less arcane training, slipping silently through the Cathedral and out a side door towards a nearby inn where an old acquaintance always kept a horse available and at his disposal.

   A quick whispered conference with the stable’s groom, followed by an exchange of coin, and the youngest of the Lords Arilan made his way northward towards a certain monastic infirmary only a few short miles distant.

#

   “So, what's to become of her now?”  Jass MacArdry asked the following morning as he guided Ailidh and Celsie through the streets of Rhemuth.  “Whoops!  Mind your step there, Celsie lass;  you've just missed a patch of mud.”

   “We don't know yet,” Ailidh answered, “except that she's to be allowed to stay on with us for now.  Her brother's still alive, but no one knows for sure yet if he's going to pull through or not.  I suppose we'll just have to wait and see.”  She gave her 'cousin' a sidelong look as he helped Celsie to a drier section of roadway, suppressing a smile.  Sir Jass was being all courtly knight today in Celsie's presence, his customary Borderer accent all but absent aside from the faintest of brogues and the occasional distinctively Borderer turn of phrase.  Seeing him with his Rhemuth manners on full display still struck her as exceedingly odd.

   “I imagine she's not up for a day out yet, poor lass,” Jass mused as they drew closer to the draper's shop that was their destination.  

   “I don't know; I think Sophie might have wanted to come with us, if only to take her mind off things for a little bit, but she's being fitted for her mourning gowns today,” Celsie said, paying closer attention to her footing on the damp cobblestones.

   “All right, almost there; it's that third door on the ri—Sweet Jesú!”  Jass yanked Ailidh by the arm out of the way of a sudden stream of noxious smelling liquid tossed out of an upper story window, muttering a stream of fluent invective that was most uncourtly, but also unlikely to be understood by anyone born this far south and east.  “That didn't hit you, did it, chuisle?”

   “No, it all missed,” Ailidh said after a quick check.  “Thank you.”

   He swiftly maneuvered both ladies away from the line of fire before calling up another stream of rapid-fire words in Border speech, much to Celsie's amusement.  From above, a lazy voice drawled out “Sure, whatever, and your mother’s been breeding with Border ponies!”  The requisite posturing concluded, Jass moved the ladies forward into the shop, which would hopefully be more hazard-free.

   Celsie giggled, mindspeaking to Ailidh.  What did Sir Jass say?

   The Border girl's lips twitched. Well...the first bit's a little hard to translate in polite terms, but he implied some rather scandalous things about the parentage of that man in the upstairs window.  Let's just say it involved several reivers and a sheep.  And as for the second.... Ailidh's eyes gleamed with suppressed laughter. It roughly translates to “May your merchandise burn to ashes and your supply ships sink before they ever reach the shore, while your mother runs up and down the dock barking frantically for help.”

   Celsie turned wide blue eyes up at the Border knight and giggled.  He returned her look with an amused grin of his own.  “Tellin' on me, are you, Ailidh a chuisle?”  Leaning to whisper to the blonde girl in a voice too low for the approaching shopkeeper to overhear, he added, “Is that one of the hazards of courtin’ a Deryni lass?  You never know what she’s thinkin’ to others about you behind your back?”  He winked as she gaped at him, then straightened to greet the shopkeeper.

   “I’m afraid my wife’s not finished with your mother’s new gown yet, Sir Jass,” the man began, but Jass waved the apology off.  

   “I’m not here for that today, Master Draper; I’ve brought you some new custom who wish to have a look at your fine wares.”

   The shopkeeper gave the two young ladies an appreciative look.  “So I see!  And what may I help you fine ladies with this day?”

   Ailidh moved forward.  “We’re looking for fabric suitable for Court gowns, but for daily dress only, and in somber colors.”

   “Somber colors, but suitable for Court?  I’ll see what I have in stock, but my ladies, with your bright coloring and youthful beauty, surely something on the lighter side would be preferable?”

   Celsie shook her head.  “I’m afraid it’s for mourning wear.  Well, semi-mourning at least.  One of the ladies in our household has had a death in the family, and while we’re not strictly required to wear black, we’d like to be properly respectful.”

   “Oh!  Well, I’m certainly sorry to hear that.  Yes, I do think I’ve got a few selections of fabric that would suit, but I’ll need to go to the back to pull them out.  I’ll be right back.”

   While they waited, Celsie turned an appraising glance at her house-sister. So, Sir Jass is courting you?  He must not be all that close a cousin, then.  The girl dimpled as she slanted a look at Jass’s back while he surveyed the shop’s wares.   Does the Contessa know?

   No, and you’re not going to tell her, either!  Ailidh held back a sigh.  Anyway, I’ve told him I’m off men.  He’s just too bloody-minded to listen.

   You’re off that man?  Celsie bit her lip to keep from laughing.  Are you daft?  Did your mother drop you on your head as a baby?

   The shopkeeper returned with several swatches of fine wool, silks, and linens, each in dark hues but with dyes of fine enough quality to make the colors look rich rather than muddy.  “For you, sweet little princess, may I suggest the dark sapphire, and for the fiery-haired young Valkyrie, the deep emerald.”

   “Oh, they’re both lovely!  Don’t you think so, Ailidh?”  He knows you’re Deryni, but he’s not running for the Transha border yet, Celsie teased.  I think I’m envious.

   “I think we’ll take a length of both colors,” Ailidh informed the merchant, ignoring her household sister’s teasing.  “What do you think, Celsie, in silk and wool both?”

   “That sounds good.  The silk would work for more formal occasions.”

   The shopkeeper’s wife came out, escorting both ladies to a rear room where she took measurements of each to determine how much fabric they would require.  After seeing some of her work in progress and hearing her fees, they agreed to engage her services as a seamstress as well. A quick discussion of styles ensued, then both girls returned to the front of the shop, each satisfied that their purchase was in the best of hands.

   “I have to admit, Jass,” Ailidh said as they were making their way back to Rhemuth Castle, “I thought you’d taken leave of your senses when I saw what part of town you were leading us to. But that shop is quite a find!”

   “Aye.  Court quality wares, but at a third the usual cost.”  Jass grinned.  “Probably because few courtiers are brave enough to venture out that way.  Which reminds me.”  He fixed each of them with a stern look.  “Do not even think of goin’ back for your purchases without me.  And definitely not at any time other than broad daylight.  It’s a rough section of town for two ladies wanderin’ about on your own.  Better yet, I may just send a message back askin’ to have your gowns delivered.”

   “We wouldn’t go back alone.  We’re not entirely stupid,” Ailidh retorted.

   The whiskey-colored eyes twinkled.  “Well, that’s good.  I’m hopin’ for bright sons.”

   Beside them, Celsie suppressed a laugh.

#

   “Sophie, dear, you have a visitor.”

   The young lady in black looked up to see the familiar features of Bishop Duncan McLain smiling down at her, his blue eyes filled with empathy.  “I just heard the news about your family, and stopped by to express my deep condolences.”  He walked over to the window embrasure where she sat, taking the empty seat across from hers.  “Father Nivard would’ve come with me, but a shipment of manuscripts had just arrived.   He asked me to let you know that you and your family shall be in his prayers, and that he’ll stop by once he can extricate himself from all that dusty old parchment, if you’re up to receiving him then.”

   She gave the bishop a wan smile.  “Of course.”  

   He took one of her hands in his.  “How are you doing?”

   She shrugged, her eyes downcast.  “It just…doesn’t feel quite real, yet.”

   He nodded.  “It might take a while to sink in.  A lot of people go through stages—sadness, anger, denial, though the order might vary.  It’s all quite normal.”

   Sophie took a deep breath, looked back up to meet his gaze.  “I’m scared,” she said simply.

   “I imagine so. “

   Oddly, his quiet understanding, without any added attempt at reassurance or brushing aside her fears, somehow made her feel a bit better.

   “How long does it take for the pain to go away?” she asked him.

   He looked out the window, pursing his lips in thought, then back at Sophie.  “That’s difficult to say.  I lost my father four and a half years ago, and my mother some years before that.  The wounds heal, but…some days are still harder than others.”  Duncan gave her hand a light squeeze.  “But every person’s grief is different, and yours will take however long it takes to run its course.  You’ll have friends beside you, though; that helps.”

   “Yes.”

   They sat together for the next half hour, sometimes talking quietly, sometimes in companionable silence.  At last the bishop stood to take his leave, bowing over the maiden’s hand.

   “I have a Mass tomorrow, and then a Council meeting shortly thereafter, but John will probably stop by sometime in the afternoon to check on you.  I’m sure he’ll be desperately wanting to look at something besides mouldering old tomes by then.”

   Sophie gave a rueful laugh.  “Yes, because a red-eyed girl dressed like a rusty old raven is so far preferable as a change of scenery.”

   Duncan smiled.  “Actually, all symbolic meaning aside, black’s an attractive color on you.  Maybe I should wait until the books are looking better to him again before I send him up here.”  He chuckled at her dumbstruck expression.  “I’m jesting, Sophie.”  

   She gazed out the window, her cheeks warming slightly as the bishop took his leave of the Contessa and then made his way out.

#

   Sophie, not feeling quite up to an evening meal in the Great Hall yet, decide on a quieter repast in her own quarters.  She sent one of the castle pages to request a meal be brought up.  It arrived only a short time later, though instead of the expected kitchen servant, Sir Seisyll stood at the door.  She stared, bemused, as he walked past the laughing Contessa with a grin, bearing a large tray.

   “Hm.  The table in your sitting room is barely large enough to hold all this.”

   “That's...a little more than I actually ordered,” Sophie ventured, giggling.

   “Is it?  Well, I might have added a few things to tempt your appetite.”  He handed Constanza the tray, transferring the individual items to the small table instead.  “Let's see here...roast venison and frumenty, manchet with herbed butter, carrots in honey, lentils with saffron, creme-filled crepes with rose syrup....”  He presented the final item with a flourish.  “And a fine wine, raided from the King's own cellars.”

   Sophie laughed.  “I certainly hope you asked him first!”

   “Oh, was I supposed to?”  The blue-violet eyes smiled down at her.  

   “Tell me I'm not supposed to eat all that by myself.”

   “Well, no.  I was somewhat hoping you might be generous enough to share.  Either that, or you'll need to let out all your gowns.  And Celsie and Ailidh will need to roll you off to bed.  Speaking of whom....”  He glanced around. “Where are they?”

   “With Ailidh's cousin Jass, but they should be back soon.”   

   Seisyll pulled out a chair for Constanza, then joined the ladies at their table.  “Sir Jass MacArdry?”

   “Yes,” the chaperone said.  “Do you know him?”

   “Not well, but we're acquainted.  He's one of Duke Dhugal's retainers.  Seems like a good man, from what I've seen.”  He began carving the venison, serving it on finely carved treen platters for the ladies.  

   “Well, that's good.” Constanza frowned slightly.  “Still, he's kept my young ladies out quite late.  I'm beginning to wonder if anything's amiss.”

   “Probably not,” Seisyll reassured her.  “There are some traveling entertainers in the Great Hall tonight; they've probably stopped to watch the show.  I can go down and check if you'd like.”

   “No, you two enjoy your meal; I'll be right back,” the Contessa said distractedly, rising and heading out.  Sophie watched the door close behind her.  She turned an incredulous look at Seisyll, who suppressed a smile.

   “Poor Jass!”  He spooned some of the frumenty onto Sophie's platter.  “So, is he really Ailidh's cousin?”

   “She says so,” Sophie replied, looking a bit distractedly at the closed door.

   “You do realize, I hope, that among the Border folk, 'she's my cousin' can mean anything from 'we share the same grandparents' to 'my father might have once spotted her mother from across the village square'?”  Seisyll grinned.

   “Umhmmm....”  Sophie frowned at the closed door, then slowly turned her attention back towards Seisyll, looking rather bemused.

   “It would appear the Contessa has left you in my care, my Lady.  So, would you like some lentils and carrots, or shall we just proceed to the ravishment?”

   The hazel eyes widened.  “Sir Seisyll!”

   He laughed.  “Stop looking so distressed, Sophie.  She'll surely be back directly, probably hauling poor Jass around by an ear.”
  
   She giggled at the image that he sent into her mind.  “I just can't believe Constanza is so worried about him, she's left me all alone up here with you!”

   “Ah, well, that's easily enough explained.  Sir Jass MacArdry, like all his Transha kin, is a rough-around-the-edges Borderer from the land of plundering reavers, ready to haul comely ladies like the beauteous Ailidh and Celsie back to his thieving lair and have his wicked way with them.  Whereas I, alas, am but a civilized lowlander knight, not all that dashing or exciting, but in the King's service, not to mention I'm a Bishop's nephew, so obviously your virtue is quite safe.”

   Sophie slanted a skeptical look at him.  “Constanza really doesn't know you very well, does she?”

   Seisyll smiled slowly.  “My Lady, you wound me!  Just think of me as you would your brother.”

   “Oh dear God, hopefully not that bad!”

   He laughed.
   
#

   Late that night, in his sleep, Seisyll Arilan received a report from his own brother about hers.

   Sextus looked tired in the dream-vision, but wore a satisfied grin.  “I made my way to the infirmary by daybreak.  Your friend is still alive, but he's had a head injury and a shattered shield arm.   He's also got some nasty gashes, including a fairly deep one in his chest, but it missed his vital organs.  No infection seems to have set in, so that's good.  The best news is, he recovered consciousness today.  Word is, they may be sending him on to Rhemuth soon at the King's request.”

   “Good job, Sextus.  Any word about the brigands yet?”

   “Not yet, but I'll check into that once I leave the monastery tomorrow.  And I'm not Sextus, by the way.  Sextus Arilan was never here; I'm Brother Theophilus of Marbury.”

   “Even better.” Seisyll studied his brother's image.  “Where'd you find the cassock?”

   Sextus laughed.  “It's an old one Denis had in one of the attic trunks.  Itches like hell.  That's why I chose that name--this is 'the awfullest' outfit I've worn in years!  She'd better be worth it, Seisyll.”

   “What makes you think there's a 'she' involved?  Sir Stefan and I trained together, you know.”

   “Yes.  And I also remember that the last time you two met, you nearly gave him a head injury.  So, I take it Stefan's sister is quite comely?”

   The sleeping Seisyll laughed.  “Quite.  And she's Kelson's ward, at least until her brother fully recovers, so get your mind out of the gutter.  It's honorable courtship I'm after.”

   A dark brow, so like his own, rose.  “I look forward to meeting her, then.”


Chapter 18: http://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php?topic=562.0
« Last Edit: January 10, 2011, 03:23:31 pm by Evie »
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

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Offline Elkhound

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Maidens of Mayhem Chapter 17
« Reply #1 on: July 14, 2010, 11:33:32 pm »
The plot thickens.

I like your "Borderer definition of 'she's my cousin.'"  Sounds about like West Virginia, where, as they say, "Everything is relative."  I swear, every time I go up to Upshur and Webster Counties where my father grew up and our people have lived since before WV was a state, every third person I meet is my cousin somehow.

When I got my house appraised before refinancing, the first appraiser, when we got talking about our backgrounds, we realized that we were somehow related, although we couldn't assess quite the degree of cousinship.  The company had to send a second appraiser, someone 'not from around here', to remove the appearance of bias.

Offline Alkari

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Maidens of Mayhem Chapter 17
« Reply #2 on: July 14, 2010, 11:50:26 pm »
Quote
  “Ah, well, that's easily enough explained.  Sir Jass MacArdry, like all his Transha kin, is a rough-around-the-edges Borderer from the land of plundering reavers, ready to haul comely ladies like the beauteous Ailidh and Celsie back to his thieving lair and have his wicked way with them.  Whereas I, alas, am but a civilized lowlander knight, not all that dashing or exciting, but in the King's service, not to mention I'm a Bishop's nephew, so obviously your virtue is quite safe.”
ROTFL at the whole exchange here with this passage - and I think I would be more wary of the supposedly 'civilized' knight.

And a lovely little interlude with Duncan, and his understanding of her grief.  I like the way how he's sympathetic but doesn't use any platitudes, just allowing her time and space. 

Offline Elkhound

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Maidens of Mayhem Chapter 17
« Reply #3 on: July 14, 2010, 11:53:53 pm »
Actually, I'd be more worried about Sir Jass.  Who is going to protect him from the girls?

Offline Evie

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Maidens of Mayhem Chapter 17
« Reply #4 on: July 15, 2010, 09:50:37 am »
Quote
I like your "Borderer definition of 'she's my cousin.'"  Sounds about like West Virginia, where, as they say, "Everything is relative."  I swear, every time I go up to Upshur and Webster Counties where my father grew up and our people have lived since before WV was a state, every third person I meet is my cousin somehow.

The part of Alabama where I live now isn't very much like that anymore.  So I was a bit surprised to discover that my friend Cheryl, who I met in local SF fan circles, was the same Cheryl my husband had met years earlier at their university 150 miles south of here.  But then one evening, she and I started talking about having family roots in Northeastern Alabama, and we eventually discovered that we were fifth cousins.  

Now, keep in mind that I wasn't even born in AL, and that with my Navy Brat upbringing I never even became a resident of my grandparents' home state until I was almost an adult.  I'm not used to finding undiscovered cousins under the woodwork!  So that was a very odd feeling.   :D

Quote
Quote
 “Ah, well, that's easily enough explained.  Sir Jass MacArdry, like all his Transha kin, is a rough-around-the-edges Borderer from the land of plundering reavers, ready to haul comely ladies like the beauteous Ailidh and Celsie back to his thieving lair and have his wicked way with them.  Whereas I, alas, am but a civilized lowlander knight, not all that dashing or exciting, but in the King's service, not to mention I'm a Bishop's nephew, so obviously your virtue is quite safe.”
ROTFL at the whole exchange here with this passage - and I think I would be more wary of the supposedly 'civilized' knight.

Yes, I suspect you'd be quite right to be more wary of Seisyll than of Jass.  Jass is very much "what you see is what you get."  Sure, by Rhemuth standards, he might be a bit rough around the edges, but I suspect he's a thorough gentlemen.  (At least I've not discovered any evidence to the contrary yet.)  Whereas with Seisyll, I think very few people actually know the real man underneath the "civilized" knightly veneer he presents to the world, especially at Court.  He's quieter, keeps things closer to his chest, and has lots of secrets to keep.  And I'm beginning to wonder if maybe he's only as gentlemanly as specific situations warrant.  It's a bit hard to tell, with Seisyll.  As Stefan warned his sister, it's the quiet ones you have to watch out for....

(In pencil-and-paper RPG gaming terms, if my memory isn't failing me utterly here, I'm thinking Jass would be more lawful good, whereas Seisyll appears to be the same to most casual observers but in actuality might skew a bit closer to neutral good.)

Quote
Actually, I'd be more worried about Sir Jass.  Who is going to protect him  from the girls?
A valid point.  Fortunately for Jass, even though she's quite able to appreciate his myriad charms, Celsie is still in luuuuuuuuve with Derry.  I'm wondering though, once Ailidh finally decides that she's not really off men for life, if poor Jass is even going to know what hit him.   :D

Quote
And a lovely little interlude with Duncan, and his understanding of her grief.  I like the way how he's sympathetic but doesn't use any platitudes, just allowing her time and space.  

Oh, I'm sure he's gotten enough of those in recent years, he'd know better than to dish them out himself.  
« Last Edit: July 15, 2010, 12:40:06 pm by Evie »
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
I have a vocabulary in excess of 75,000 words, and I'm not afraid to use it!

Offline AnnieUK

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Maidens of Mayhem Chapter 17
« Reply #5 on: July 15, 2010, 02:02:26 pm »
Grooooaaaaannnnn.

Can't believe no-one has commented on that truly AWFUL pun, there girl!  "The awfullest" outfit.   :P :o

(Incidentally, I was still giggling over the bear with a mohawk this morning - my staff thought I'd totally lost it!)

Offline Evie

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Maidens of Mayhem Chapter 17
« Reply #6 on: July 15, 2010, 02:42:10 pm »
Well, you know all about that Brion Haldane and his nicely trimmed bears.   ;)
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
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