‘You are again indulging in sulking,’ Rhagarth stated via mindspeech as she gazed at the young Ddraig.
Gruudux maintained his dignity as best he could considering the taunt and also the tickling of the human child beneath him, who apparently, had not been completely squashed: perhaps she had been lucky enough to find herself protected in some depression in the ground as deep as the sleek young dragon's depressed mood.
"I am Thinking, Old One."
'Old One' - It was a formulaic form of respectful address, but not the way he thought it!
"I suppose you have come to tell me I should follow her." he guessed in his mind's eye. By 'her' he meant his bonded rider Wynn Rhew Gaeaf, of course. He snorted dangerously and a tiny muffled voice beneath him squeaked "Hot!"
Gruudux ignored it, and the little fists that pummeled ineffectively on his underscales.
"She needs me even less than I need her. Your ideas of Ddraig and Drakeri bondage are outmoded, Old One. I would as well have this retarded human half-form beneath my belly ride me, than her." he huffed in his mind-speak.
Heavy with steel and sodden clothes, weighted by the tensions of the moment, Aldebrand was heaved to heavily fall on planks of solid, sturdy wood.
The attack which had created the emergency seemed to dissipate with the mists and spray of the roiling sea. In a mystery, the beast was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and with no more apparent reason. Regardless of his heart, Aldebrand's mind worked.
His cognition was not, perhaps, the sharpest tool in the toolshed. But it was a relentless hard worker. He likened it to a pick rather than a knife. He hammered at and chipped away at problems until they crumbled before his efforts, rather than expertly cutting them along clever lines.
But he hoped there was something to be said for stubborn persistence.
In this case, he was mystified. He was equally sure that something was afoot. Strange happenings under the sea were at the heart of the matter. It almost seemed as though two factions were battling for the fate of his beloved. One keen to destroy her. Another keen to see her saved.
Or... was this all a pantomime performance designed to influence Aldebrand's feelings and actions?
If that was the case, he didn't care. He was sure that his feelings for his new wife were genuine, and that she had no deceit in her. Even if they were in the midst of a heinous plot, something honest had been forged in the midst of the lies. And perhaps that honest thing would undermine the machinations of whatever evil forces were behind this.
Hands lifted Aldebrand up, and he nodded in thanks, before seeing Wynn being aided by her servant.
There. There was nobility. Even in a peasant girl.
He stepped somewhat unsteadily to Wynn's side as she finished the remarkable resuscitation.
"I am here, my love. And whatever this was... it seems to have ended."
He looked to the servant.
"You have my eternal gratitude."
Rhagarth circled ever higher in the sky, enjoying the feeling of the warm sun on her wide wings and the scales of her back. It was a glorious day even if her task was somewhat onerous. It was only her devotion to the Windmaster that made her agree to seek out the youngling. Then the offspring of Akulatraxa were never the most stable creatures. Their tempers and emotions ran high. More troubling, however, was the fact that they tended toward a peculiar loathing of the Bipeds. The mighty copper-gold she-dragon heaved a sigh as she began to home in on Gruudux’s location.
It was past time for a visit to Falcor. Rhagarth would speak to Breccan and Grayfury. For the most part, Claen Gael stood apart from the Free Riders of Falcor. It was rumored that even non-Drakeri rode Ddraig into battle although Rhagarth had also heard that this was a myth, that the non-Drakeri only rode the skrill. Inadvertently, Rhagarth’s lips drew back from her long pointed, serrated teeth. The skrill were wyverns! Cannibals and carrion eaters!
There! A speck of rock, not much more than a promontory jutting from the waters of the Burning Sea. At least Rhagarth was not going to have to trail the young drake into the vastness of the reaches that surrounded Claen Gael. She did not bother to cloak herself as she spiraled down to land on Snapdragon Island, alighting gently and folding her massive, nearly one-hundred foot wings. Her opalescent emerald eyes whirled as she gazed at the dark Ddraig in front of her.
‘You are again indulging in sulking,’ Rhagarth stated via mindspeech as she gazed at the young Ddraig.
"Eerie charms? When she was our captive here, I saw no evidence of any eerie charms. And she never tried to escape and ....while quite capable of chattering away she never said anything to anger us...well, I mean my father.
Audovera looked at Safiya with an earnest gaze and answered her seriously.
"Indeed, her strange ways did not manifest themselves until after she returned from being held as a hostage by your Father. Some blamed her time here; they said it was a curse of some sort because your sister died in Offo's care. I know not. But, should you meet her now, I believe that you would find her changed."
Rigunth decided to jump to her cousin's defence.
"Oh, Fredegund is still a lovely person! I would do anything for her." she yelped.
"Yes, and she might cast a similar spell on the mind of the heiress of Brydd!" exclaimed the Hospitaller.
"This Princess Clothild, is she rather weak minded or something?"
Aurovera answered Safiya's question in her usual blunt manner.
"It is rumoured that she is a woman who lies with other women."
"Ewwww, that's yeuky!" winced Rigunth, looking rather sick "Don't talk about such horrible, sinful things in front of Father Ancelin! Ugh, the idea of women kissing and touching each other, bleugh!"
"Yes, it is rather disturbing..." nodded the priest. "I shall have to pray especially hard tonight at Vespers to remove such an appalling image from my mind" he intoned, sanctimoniously.
Rigunth's sister was now called upon to have a say in this discussion.
The tourneys of the south are mere showy spectacles for empty-headed ninnies. My lady Safiya is right, the activities in the lists and upon the melee field are, of themselves, of no importance whatsoever" she said boldly, and Rigunth went a little red. "However, it is said that such gatherings are a place where the great meet and mingle without the constraint of court etiquette and where deals are made and reputations burnished or tarnished. You may be sure that our cousin Fredegund will use her unholy and unnatural glamour on whomsoever wins the joust and the favour of Princess Clothild to further Offo's ungodly ends." she suddenly found interest in a nearby bush and averted her gaze from theirs. "... or even turn her eerie charms upon the Princess herself."
Safiya smiled when her own opinion was now being upheld by the woman. But then it suddenly became about Fredegund. She did not quite get what this female knight was trying to say.
"Eerie charms? When she was our captive here, I saw no evidence of any eerie charms. And she never tried to escape and ....while quite capable of chattering away she never said anything to anger us...well, I mean my father. Now as for this Princess Clothild, is she rather weak minded or something?"
It would not surprise her, the Princess was a Bryddian after all.
"Tournaments mean nothing. Only battles and sieges matter," Safiya declared.
"I'm sure that they are fun to watch, though. And good practice for the knights." put in Rigunth. For, truth to tell, she took guilty pleasure in hearing about the fripperies of the South, although she was wary of saying so in front of the more xenophobic Safiya.
Father Ancelin nodded.
"There is much to be said for both your opinions, my ladies." he said, diplomatically "What think you, Sister Audovera?" he asked, feigning mild indifference.
"The tourneys of the south are mere showy spectacles for empty-headed ninnies. My lady Safiya is right, the activities in the lists and upon the melee field are, of themselves, of no importance whatsoever" she said boldly, and Rigunth went a little red. "However, it is said that such gatherings are a place where the great meet and mingle without the constraint of court etiquette and where deals are made and reputations burnished or tarnished. You may be sure that our cousin Fredegund will use her unholy and unnatural glamour on whomsoever wins the joust and the favour of Princess Clothild to further Offo's ungodly ends." she suddenly found interest in a nearby bush and averted her gaze from theirs. "... or even turn her eerie charms upon the Princess herself."
She was doubly embarrassed: not only because she was rumour-monging about the proclivities of the heir to the Bryddic throne, but also because such insidious rumours were also in circulation about the members of her own order.
Everyone was born with shackles around them. Most were too simple minded to ever see them. Zara had always seen hers, felt hers, and been fully aware of the manacles that were wrapped around her flesh. She never had any illusions about her role in the world. She never had to guess where she fit in, what the future would hold for her. She knew that from the start.
Her destiny had been foretold before she had entered the world. Zaiden and Zara had accepted their shackles years ago. After all, one couldn’t fight fate. Because of the path already laid out before her, there were no real decisions for her to make, no choices for her to pick from. All of it had been decided long ago and all of it without her consent. There was no concept of freewill, it didn’t exist, not for the twins.
When Zaiden had made it clear what was expected of her, what her duty was, there was no need to rattle the chains wrapped around her. She had bathed and put on the softest and prettiest robe that she had. Her hair had been combed until it shined, a bit of vanilla added to give a sweet smell to add to the seductive allure.
"Not a guard...not a servant...only his lecherous self. One would think he has entirely too high an opinion of his ability to seduce you..." The Sand Devil shook his head as he watched her getting ready. "...I assume you are going to play to exactly that opinion?"
Zara realized that they had foolishly not done enough background into the bodyguard they had brought with them. The man had hardly spoke more than 5 words during their trek here, and now that they arrived at their destination, it had become glaringly clear that the man was a deeper danger to them than the country and people of Brydd.
“It is not an opinion, it is fact. I will not bring dishonor to my people. Do not dally, be thorough but quick. An hour, no more can be promised."
Akris glanced around out of habit to ensure this outer area was safe, then he turned and pushed through the door into Zara's room. He pushed the heavy door shut behind him and looked at her. '
"Not a guard...not a servant...only his lecherous self. One would think he has entirely too high an opinion of his ability to seduce you..." The Sand Devil shook his head as he watched her getting ready. "...I assume you are going to play to exactly that opinion?"
Much of what Lady Rigunth has to say is true, if rather fancifully put." he chimed in, his hands clasped before him and his chin on his chest, as if either in great thought or nodding off after a heavy lunch. "However, there is more to be had in Brydd than mere Aerethly merriment and pleasure."
Safiya would believe her father over this priest, holy man or not. Besides, he had been sent by Offo, hardly an endorsement for the fellow.
"And what is that then?" Safiya sounded dubious.
"Your Father has won a signal victory, My Lady. He is a proud man, and is flushed with victory. Offo seems weak. That makes my task much the more difficult. For it is my duty to try and broker a truce and bring peace to this troubled land."
"Ha! Offo IS weak!" Safiya declared confidently inspired by a distinct bias toward her father.
Rigunth looked huffy "Hmm. Your duty to Offo, who started this whole trouble by sending me into Grayfall with those awful traitorous mercenaries!" she objected.
The priest of course denied it.
"Offo has lost a battle. But he continues the war, by other means. You must know that he has sent his daughter Fredegund into Brydd, where she will meet with the Royal family there, and the powerful nobles who control their armies." he warned.
Rigunth actually laughed out loud.
"Oh, but we both like Fredegund, don't we Saffy?" she smiled, though her sister Audovera looked somewhat more thoughtful. "What possible harm could her visit to a silly old Tournament in Brydd do to Lord Tancred?"
Safiya remembered Fredegund from the woman's earlier captivity in control of her father. Tancred could have treated her brutally, he had not. He could have even killed her...disemboweled her. But he did not because her father was a merciful man.
"Tournaments mean nothing. Only battles and sieges matter," Safiya declared.
Dinner with Lord Piotr had concluded an hour ago, and now the Draavosi visitors had been split into two parts.
Zaiden had been shown to the suite which had been prepared for the envoys of Al-Ador. But at his request, his sister Zara had been allowed to stay in the private suite of rooms which belonged to Lord Piotr himself. This was not quite as salacious an arrangement as it might have at first seemed. The Lord of the Blackfort had several rooms that comprised his suite, including an additional bedroom where Zara was to be quartered. Moreover, Akris was being allowed to guard her assigned bedroom, protecting not only against hostile invaders... but also against any accusations of impropriety.
Outside of this suite, two of the Blackfort guards stood in the hall, adding a layer of security to all within.
Lord Piotr seemed especially bright-eyed as he retired to his own bedchamber, "Just over there..." A hunger seemed to live within him. A hunger which hadn't been sated by the recent repast.
This left Akris and Zara to their own devices. Remarkably, the Sand Devil found himself in the inner sanctum of a historic enemy of the Draavosi. Over there was the Lord's office. Over there, his bedroom. The servants had been sent out for the evening. Had his mission been one of assassination, Akris could have accomplished it effortlessly.
But that was not his mission. Nor Zara's.
They were part of a diplomatic mission.
Of course, 'diplomacy' and 'intelligence' were so often two sides of the same coin.
What they would make of this remarkable opportunity was for them to decide...