Hyacinth (storyline)/Opposing Views (vignette)
"Excuse me, sir. Can I ask your business here?" The matron's voice was clear and well-enunciated. It carried the weight of authority, and made the target of her interest smile, just a touch.
"I come to see the new addition, as others before me. The orphanage seems very well-built," the man remarked neutrally, casting his gaze around at the architecture.
"Indeed. Though I must say, your interest has lingered far longer than most of the others. What is your specific interest? Is there something I can assist you with?" The subtext was extremely clear: How can I help you finish whatever your business is, so that you can leave?
Again the man's mouth tugged at the corners, though his beard hid most of the expression. Still, his eyes sparkled with a flicker of amusement.
"No, no. Nothing of the sort. It's good to see the Isle is in capable hands," he remarked.
"Then, sir, if you have no further business here?"
This time the smile broke through, and the man dipped into an elaborate, courtly bow.
"Watch over these young ones, Eira. They have been through more than any should at their ages. Take care that they are sheltered from any further suffering."
Before the matron could respond, the man turned and strode out without a backward glance. Eira felt a chill run up her spine. Everything about that man had set her teeth on edge. She calmed herself and let her grip relax on the small dagger she'd kept concealed against her wrist while they'd spoken.
She knew what it was to confront a stranger unarmed, and would never forget the lesson learned that dark night.
Some hours later, Eira was getting some of the younger ones ready for sleep when a gentle tap on the doorframe caused her to glance up from the book she was reading aloud. There stood the Administrator, and Eira thought to herself once more that it was uncanny how such a formidable individual could move so silently. Eira nodded to Zofiya, though did not pause her reading. Zofiya leaned against the doorjamb and listened along to the escapades of Piotr the Penniless, the star of this evening's narrative, as he wound his way through a series of ever-more-unrealistic coincidences until arriving back home, safe and sound. Eira tucked each of the little ones in once more, pausing to give one young girl whose eyes were shining with unshed tears a long hug. She then wished the room at large a good evening, and closed the door, ushering Zofiya ahead of her down the hall.
"What was the little girl's problem?" inquired the Administrator as they walked.
"Piotr is her favorite, but it always makes her sad. Her father used to read it to her, to the point that she knows every word of the story by heart. She always requests it, but it always makes her remember, too."
"Then why does she request it, if it'll make her sad?" Zofiya asked, genuinely curious.
"I asked her that same question the other evening. She said it's because she's not finished crying all the tears she needs to for her Daddy. She wants to hurry up and cry them all, so that the hurt will finally go away," Eira said. Her tone was even, but there was an undercurrent of strong emotion just beneath the surface.
Zofiya blinked at that, her own eyes welling slightly. Eira noted the reaction from the corner of her eye with some curiosity, then remembered that Zofiya herself had been an orphan.
"What did you tell her when she said that?" the Administrator asked, her voice husky with emotion.
"I told her that I would happily help her with whatever strategy she wanted to employ. So it's been Piotr the Penniless each night. And each night there have been fewer tears."
Zofiya nodded, though her expression was clouded over.
"Do you think that's wise? Maybe there's a better-"
Eira cut her off mid-sentence, her tone hard.
"That girl's lost everyone who ever loved her. Her father died in her arms. She's six years old. She is entitled to whatever comfort she can find, and I will do everything I can to help her. She doesn't need me to be a tutor, or a counselor. Thanks to the generosity of the town, those have been provided. My sole job is to make sure she knows, deep in her heart of hearts, that she is lovable, and loved. And I will do everything in my power to make sure that I do that job to the very best of my ability."
Eira finished her speech before she realized that she'd stopped walking, and had squared her shoulders to the much larger woman. She coughed slightly and relaxed her pose somewhat, looking away with a slight flush on her cheeks as an awkward silence settled over the pair.
"I'm so very grateful that you're here to take care of them," Zofiya finally said, her voice warm. "They, and we, are so very lucky to have you. If you need anything at all from me, or the town, just say the word and I will make it happen."
Eira looked up at the woman, noting the wet eyes and the wide smile, and felt a small smile creep across her own face.
"Thank you, Administrator. I shall."
The pair resumed their walk, the silence now far more companionable. As they reached the door leading back to the street, Zofiya spoke once more.
"I actually stopped by to ask if you had any information for me. I've been making the rounds and trying to see if anyone has seen any sign of this Circle in town. Have you noted anything strange? I know you've had a steady stream of visitors since the doors were opened. Anything that I should take a look at?"
Eira started to shake her head, then thought back to the man from earlier.
"There was... one man. He... set my teeth on edge," she began awkwardly.
Under the cover of night, the form slipped into the orphanage without being seen. Silent footfalls ensured that none of the slumbering residents were disturbed, and the two guards were easily avoided. Each was stationary, which was a basic tactical error that caused the interloper to purse his lips in disapproval, even as he took full advantage of their lapse. He wound his way through the structure, pausing often to scrutinize some detail of the construction, or to let fingers drift across a piece of furniture. He paused at the closed door to the room where the little ones slept, and rested one hand lightly against it. After a moment of stillness, he moved on.
He took his time, but finished his search at the matron's bedside. He regarded her quietly, standing stock still and watching her breathe for long moments. He leaned over finally, his nimble fingers sliding into the pocket of the apron she wore even in sleep and withdrawing her small dagger. He lifted it to eye level, scrutinizing it in the dimness before shaking his head slightly. Tucking the miniscule weapon away in his belt, he drew a curved blade of his own from a harness beneath his cloak. Leaning down once more, he slid the blade into the same pocket that had previously held the inferior weapon.
With silent haste, the interloper left the orphanage, easily avoiding the gaze of the guards. Once well away, he took the small dagger from his belt and took a closer look at it. A harsh chuckle broke from his lips as he stuffed the weapon into a sack on his belt. He started to stride away, but then felt the world tilt away under his feet as he was yanked backwards by the hair. The tip of a blade poked into his spine, and before he could get his bearings, his assailant was cheek to cheek with him.
"Do not speak. Do not move. Listen, or you die. Blink twice, slowly, if you understand."
The assailant's voice was cold and clear, and the trapped interloper had no choice but to comply. He blinked twice, even as he took a quick inventory of the weapons at his disposal. There were any number of implements he could use, but the presence of the weapon against his back made the odds of any of his plans succeeding long indeed.
"That building is off limits to you and yours. Never again let me see you there. Am I clear? Blink twice more if you understand."
"But I-" the man started to protest.
The assailant struck, savagely. The blade vanished from the interloper's spine, and the hilt of the weapon crashed into the back of his skull an instant later. Before the pain even began to register, the blade was replaced in the exact same spot as before.
"Do not speak," the assailant stated, his voice perfectly even. "Blink twice if you understand that the orphanage is out of bounds for you and yours."
The interloper's head was swimming, but he managed to blink twice.
"If you return, you will die, and will not see it coming," the assailant stated.
Then the assailant was gone. The interloper whirled, his head still swimming from the blow, but there was no sign of anyone on the street. His gaze drifted upwards, taking in the rooftops, but there was no movement to be seen there either. Rubbing his head, he made haste to the town's gate. It was time to leave.
Pashtal had been an idiot of the highest order.
That had been the Center's opinion from the beginning, but it had only made sense to give the deluded idiot a little assistance. There was nothing wrong with using a tool when it presented itself. Pashtal's plan had never had a chance of succeeding, but it had certainly furthered the ends of the Circle quite nicely. Indeed, they were finally complete, and the real work had at last begun.
"Good evening," a quiet voice said as its owner crept through the sitting room's door.
The Center stood, an easy smile on his face as he greeted the visitor. The pair embraced, then the Center indicated a comfortable chair near the fire as he retook his own seat, and the visitor settled in.
"What news, then? What brings you here this fine evening?" the Center inquired.
"Nothing too terribly impressive, I'm afraid. The townsfolk are flailing around, jumping at shadows in their search for us. And, not to put too fine a point on it, the real target of their search is-"
"Me," the Center interjected smoothly. He appeared more amused than anything at the notion.
"You," the visitor agreed. "Still, it's turned into a bit of a charade. There's been a somewhat steady stream of informants trooping in and out of the Administrator's office with 'tips', more often than not taking the opportunity to implicate their neighbors."
The Center chuckled at the thought, shaking his head in amusement.
"Let them search. It keeps them busy, and keeps us entertained," he remarked with a wry grin.
"Agreed," said the visitor. "Though I did have a question brought to my attention by... ah... the newest member?"
"Indeed. What inquiry does the little ember have?"
"She wishes to know what the plans are for the Harbor. She's skittish, and I'm truly not sure-"
"I am," the Center interrupted her once more. "She is but a small ember, but will erupt into flames with a little fanning. Assure her that her Harbor is safe. It is only the Iyo who stand in our way."
The visitor bowed her head in silent assent, then raised her head slightly to meet the gaze of the Center.
"What will she do when she realizes the truth?" she asked, her voice low.
"Die," the Center said simply. "At that point she will have outlived her purpose, and the Circle will be reformed stronger than ever."
The visitor bowed her head once again, then stood and wordlessly exited.
The Center poured himself a small drink from the crystal decanter on a small end table next to his chair, then sat and watched the flames dance in the hearth, a gleam in his eye and a slight grin on his lips.