Eternal Knowledge (short story)

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Title: Eternal Knowledge
Author: Rohese Bayvel-Timsh'l

First published on the 17th day of Olaesta in the year 5119

Following on from A Difficult Journey and A Healing Process, this journal is a repository of vignettes including insights into Rohese's continued story and her involvement in The Nazhor Chronicles.

Prologue

It is through our memories that we learn to live again, learn to love again, and, in turn, make more memories – better memories. The knowledge is eternal; sustaining us, nurturing us, and allowing us to grow. As House Illistim's heraldic statement bears testament: Knowledge is the key to eternity. It is my hope that by recording my memories, my loved ones will not be forgotten, I will not be forgotten, and I can help make memories for others.

Trials and Tribulations

Rohese paused, her hand resting lightly on the door handle.

She glanced in the direction of the burly guard standing nearby, his words echoing in her mind. “Scum! That’s what he is. Should’a strung ‘im up in the commons for the real birds to feed off’a!” He snorted at his own attempt at humor and spat over the balcony.

Taking a deep breath, Rohese opened the door and stepped over the threshold, flinching slightly as she heard it lock behind her.

The room was fairly well appointed, despite being used as a holding cell, and there was a fairly decent view of the town through the window. Even through the heavy rainfall, it was possible to make out curls of black smoke in the distance where the burnt out shells of homes still smouldered.

He was seated in an armchair facing her, one leg crossed over the knee of the other, his fingers steepled together. He looked surprisingly relaxed, given the circumstances, but then Nehor was always good at putting on a show.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me,” she said, flushing slightly under his steady gaze. “I wasn’t sure you would be willing and the guard was reluctant to let me in otherwise.”

“Come to gloat?” he responded, somewhat curtly but his demeanor softened a little as he gestured towards the other chair.

Rohese hesitated, doubt still lingering over her motives for being there. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all. She knew it was probably futile but she had to try, even after her vain attempts to reason with him the other day. She would never forgive herself if she didn’t at least try to talk to him again, this time without the added distraction or pressure of a hostile audience. It was unfair of Socius to have put them both in that position but she understood the necessity; time was of the essence. She wished that she had had the chance to appeal to him alone, in a place of her choosing where he wasn’t so … vulnerable. But it was too late. She had failed him then and she was more than likely going to fail him again.

His trial was scheduled for the coming Restday, a week on from the atrocities that had occurred under his alleged leadership. She had this one last chance to reach out to him, to reason with the man that she knew he really was: Kind and caring; one certainly intelligent enough to understand her point of view and more than capable of seeing beyond the delusional plans of a madman. If only he would let his guard down and let her in; explain why he felt that Nazhor’s idea of balance was the only way forward. What had happened to make this man so disillusioned with the world? Yes, Elanthia had experienced horrific events over the millennia – and was still suffering from tyranny and malevolence - but there was hope. She witnessed many genuine acts of kindness and forgiveness every day. Goodness and mercy would prevail, of that she was certain.

Firming her resolve, she sat down in the armchair and settled her gaze upon him.

“How are you?” she began, fidgeting nervously with the skirts of her kirtle.

“I endure,” he admitted. “The treatment of the guard was not gentle. They lost friends, most of them, in the … incident.”

Rohese nodded faintly as Nehor gave her a wry smile and she knew then that this wasn’t going to be easy for either of them.

---<-`<@

An hour later, Rohese stepped back into the corridor and watched the guard turn the key in the lock. She glanced back at the door, almost tempted to go back in. Should I have refused his request to leave? No, he needs time to think. With a perfunctory nod towards his gaoler, she headed down the stairs and out into the rain.

A Life in Ruins

Mist Harbor, Restday, 31st day of Charlatos
A pretty young elven woman races in, crying. She pleads, "Can someone... please... help my father? The house was set on fire, and he's stuck in there!" As she finishes her message, she is suddenly struck by a streaking fireball! Flames engulf her body as she screams aloud! The magical flames consume her with incredible rapidity, leaving her in a heap of ashes as the last of the flames die out.
Mist Harbor, Day of the Huntress, 5th day of Olaesta

Rohese draped the silk veil across her face in an attempt to mask the lingering taint of charred flesh and the acrid smell of smoke. Cautiously stepping over the rubble, she struggled with her raw emotions as she witnessed the evidence of a murdered family strewn about the ruins of their former home.

For some reason, Ceyrin held back, the fading daylight casting him in shadow and obscuring his expression. He shifted his position as a streak of bright white lightning seared the sky and briefly illuminated the ash-filled room. She barely flinched these days. The raging storm had become part of everyday life on the island and no one seemed to pay it much attention anymore. They had more important things on their minds.

Rohese’s gaze fell upon a bloodied shirt and her hand flew to her mouth. Fortunately, the militia had taken away the corpses for burial but it was obvious what had befallen this unsuspecting household. Cracked and broken bowls lay at her feet, the smaller one still with the spoon resting inside. Caught unawares during their evening meal, they’d had no chance to escape. They were my friends! A tear ran down Rohese’s cheek as she surveyed the rest of the damage.

Whether it was seeing her distress, or just to escape the torrential rain, Ceyrin cursed under his breath and joined her inside. He bent down to retrieve something from near the hearth and attempted to conceal it before she noticed. But then, taking in the devastation around him, he had second thoughts and handed it to her.

Ceyrin simply stated, “He needs to see that.”

With a cry of anguish, Rohese slipped it carefully into her basket. Nodding once, she replied flatly, “I’ve changed my mind, I need to go to the trial.”

---<-`<@

Later that evening, alone in her room ...

A boom of thunder resonated outside.

Rohese set down her quill and read over the letter she had just written.

Clerk to the Magistrate
c/o Sergeant’s Office
Mist Harbor
Dear Sir,
I wish to formally request an opportunity to speak at the trial of Nehor on Restday, the 7th day of Olaesta. It is my understanding that witnesses will be asked to present their evidence and, if I may impose on the goodwill of the court further, I would like my testimony to be heard last, if at all possible.
Humbly yours,
Rohese Bayvel-Timsh’l Illistim

Folding the parchment and applying her seal in white wax, she found herself gazing at the basket on the floor beside her. The mere reminder of it tugged painfully at her heart but it firmed her resolve and she rose to her feet with the intention of delivering the letter herself.

How many more lives need to be ruined!

Conscience and Correspondence

She was home.

Walking into the hallowed halls of the Library Aies brought back a flood of fond memories and she breathed in its comforting fragrance. The familiar smell of wax and dusty parchment embraced her like a warm hug.

The events of last Restday had left Rohese reeling. The trial had epitomized everything she abhorred and had fought to overcome in her short life: injustice and indifference. "A travesty of justice," some hailed it but went about their day nonetheless. Many were baying for blood and seeking it in turn, while others were savoring the bizarre turn of events. A few were even whispering rumors of collusion and allegations of "crocodile tears." But one thing could be agreed upon, it had certainly had an impact on the people of Mist Harbor.

Rohese had promptly left the Isle, feeling as if she had no place there anymore. She had witnessed Nehor being found guilty of all charges brought against him yet walk free with a fine of 10 silvers; apparently that was all those innocent lives were worth. The magistrate had trivialized every word she had delivered and she had been left feeling foolish and inept. No matter, I am home now.

Lost in her thoughts, Rohese had walked the length of the Hall of Being and reached the Hall of the Ancients at the far end. Taking in its golden glory, she circled the room, allowing her fingers to wander along the spines of the weighty tomes lining its shelves. She had come to the Library in the hope that she could find something … anything … on the mysteries of the meek.

A voice behind her caused her to jump with a start. "Lady Rohese... may I please have a moment of your time?" Socius stepped into the room and approached her. "I have an apology and an explanation to offer you, Lady."

Instantly recognisable from his scar, Rohese retreated a little, shocked to see him in the Shining City.

"I have been away, checking on my father," he added, by way of explanation, "and in my absence, a cancer spread to the Isle. In fairness... it has been there for some time. But it became malignant in my absence. And some of the consequences of my inaction, and absence, caused you a great deal of hurt. And for that, I simply cannot apologize enough "

Breathing a heavy sigh, Rohese replied, "You're referring to the trial, I take it."

Socius nodded and, stepping closer, he spoke quietly, suddenly conscious of his surroundings. "May I explain the actions I have taken, and intend to take, as a result of that horrible day?"

Rohese nodded slightly by way of a response.

"I thank you, Lady. First, the magistrate has... left his post. He will never again darken anyone's door, whether within or without a hall of justice." Lowering his voice further to a mere whisper, he added, "Nehor ... when he is seen, shall be dealt with. Harshly. His role in this has not gone unnoticed by me and he must pay for the pain he has brought to the Isle."

It’s all my fault. If only I could have reached him ... made him understand that he wasn’t alone and that he was merely Nazhor’s puppet. As if hearing her inner thoughts, a darkness clouded Socius’s eyes.

"The more immediate threat, however, is Nazhor, and he nears his goal with frightening rapidity. If he is successful, the Isle will be transformed into a hellish place, populated by atrocities that were never meant to be in this world."

He glanced around the room to ensure they could not be overheard. Taking no chances, he leaned in closely and whispered something into her ear. Somewhat taken aback, Rohese considered his words and nodded in agreement. She had clearly underestimated this man and was astounded that he had made the effort to come all this way to speak with her on the matter.

"If I might be so presumptuous ..." With a ghost of a smile on his lips, Socius reached over her shoulder to one of the upper shelves and lifted down a tan leather book. "There's an old tale that I read as a boy. My father travelled a great deal, and I was always keen to read as much as I could. Given our current ... situation ... there's a particular passage that is ... worthy of consideration. It suggests some insights into ... other worlds. A guide to correspondence, if you will."

"Could be worth a read," he suggested, handing it to her with the barest hint of a wink. "Until next time, Lady," he bowed and left the room.

Rohese glanced down at the book in her hand and read the title. "Tales of Toomy the Bard." It wasn’t a thick book so, forgoing her usual ritual of a comfortable seat and a cup of tea, she quickly opened it and started to read. About halfway through, she noticed a tiny symbol at the top of one of the pages. It looked almost like a bird and appeared to be a handwritten annotation to the text. She read the passage again …

Toomy stared in the mirror at himself, his eyes wide on both sides. But the Toomy in the mirror's mouth moved! "The thing is, Toomy, you're not as alone as you think. You chose a road that looks empty to you, but there's lots of Toomys who took that road, too! You can't see them, of course, and they can't see you, but there's lots of worlds with lots of Toomys, and all of them who went down that path with you... they're closer than you think! If you take another turn, then a lot of Toomys will too. Think about that, Toomy. You're never really alone, so there's no reason to be scared. You're an army of Toomys, so you have nothing to fear!" {scribbled in the margins, in a spidery Elven script, someone has written, "Be true to yourself always, so that you are as many of yourself as you can be. Is this the secret?"}

Rohese smiled to herself and mentally started packing for her return to the Isle.

Memories (Rohese runs the Gauntlet)

The Now

Rohese reached up for the tome on the highest shelf and blew away the thin layer of dust. Carefully opening the cracked leather cover, she began to read the faded text within.

She had spent the last few days wandering the Halls of the Library Aies in search of anything that would reveal the nature of the meeks and give her an insight into the meaning of their correspondence. The bruises were fading on her arm but the scar tissue was a constant reminder of their desperate attempt to reach out for help and her recent encounter with Socius had made her more determined than ever to do just that.

The storybook she was now holding was a familiar one from her childhood. One story in particular resonated with her and she paused to reflect on its meaning. The tale of "Patience and the Lily" reminded her so much of her own story: one of hope and suffering, of love and loss. Patience's story could be her own. Memories of her family flooded her mind, both happy and sad; the smiles on their beloved faces still causing her heartache but she smiled as she thought fondly of them all.

Reaching into robes, she pulled out her grandmother's book and opened it to read the words inscribed on the inside of the cover.

"Death leaves a heartache no one can heal; love leaves a memory no one can steal."

Lost in thought, she didn't notice the room around her shift slightly, and the lines of the objects become slightly less distinct.

A voice spoke in her mind, whispering slightly, "Lady Rohese... this is a time of... correspondence. And opportunity..."

Placing her hand on her book, Rohese tentatively asked, "Who are you?"

"I am one of the meek... your thoughts have drawn me to you during this time of correspondence. I have prepared... an opportunity. Should you be willing to undertake it, I believe much good can be done."

Resting the fingertips of her right hand in the hollow of her throat, Rohese closed her eyes for a moment and quietly murmured an archaic elven orison. Feeling a little more settled, she nodded slightly and felt herself pulled away.

She opened her eyes and surveyed her surroundings. She found herself standing in a white marble atrium, with elaborately styled buttresses supporting the ceiling overhead, and brilliantly colored stained glass windows casting a kaleidoscope of rainbow hues across the single massive marble slab that served as the floor. The air was still and heavy with the taste of dust and time. At the far end of the atrium was a single archway.

The awe-inspiring beauty of the chamber was oddly comforting so Rohese took the opportunity to steady her breathing and prepare for what might lay ahead. Sensing her readiness, the voice continued.

"What you see is not what is, but a construct fashioned to help you comprehend what must be done. I have tunneled through, and will hold the way as long as I can, though time will be short. The Fallen will send obstacles, but I will assist as much as I can. In your memories, we increase correspondence. Proceed, Broken One, and know that we are with you."

Stepping tentatively through the archway, Rohese was immediately transported back to her childhood.

The Past

The first thing that struck her was the fragrant scent of herbs as she stood amidst a modest garden, carefully organised and in full bloom. Various herbs and brilliant flowers lay in neat rows and a delicate wrought-iron fence surrounded the entire space. Just beyond the fence, through a faintly glowing gateway, stood an indistinct pair of figures, hand-in-hand, watching her silently. The larger of the two seemed to be carrying a fishing rod, and the smaller one seemed to be rather thin. In that moment, the smaller figure raised a hand towards her, as if in greeting, but made no sound.

Memories of her mother overwhelmed her: the scent of her garden in full bloom, her smile thought lost to the years, and her strength as she fought the unwinnable battle against illness. Carrying that memory in her heart, Rohese simply walked towards the gate and whispered, "Mother?"

Her vision faded in a melancholy grey haze only to return with a sinking feeling.

The Near

The scent of lavender filled her nostrils again but this time it came with a wave of nausea. A pair of stone pots containing large plants in full bloom rested on either side of the wooden doors through which she had just stepped. The walls were painted a pale green, and the carpet underfoot was a complementary darker green with an intricate pattern of interlaced deep blue woven throughout. Her eyes were drawn to a large writing desk in the middle of the office and she knew immediately where she was. An indistinct figure in the background sighed and approached her.

"Does this space look familiar?"

Rohese nodded and suddenly felt the stares of an unseen crowd upon her. She felt her face blush hot with embarrassment. This can’t be happening again!

"This is the place where you almost broke."

Rohese's insides roiled and she felt a deep knot of pain in her gut as she relived the deep betrayal once more. Tears rolled down her cheeks. "That wasn’t justice!" She cried out, recalling the humiliation of Nehor's trial a few weeks ago.

"And what has justice to do with reality?" The figured stepped closer again. "You are not owed justice, Lady Rohese."

Retreating, Rohese quickly replied, "Justice is everything. It creates balance!"

"And do you believe you are entitled to it, then?"

The distinct sound of laughter drifted through the room and Rohese was certain it was directed at her. Struggling to maintain her composure, she glanced at the book in her hand and recalled the words of her grandmother once more. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.

Rohese cleared her throat. "Yes, everyone is entitled to justice."

"And when the world does not accommodate you... you turn and run. What is the right path when faced with injustice?" The figure’s words felt like a slap in the face causing Rohese to doubt herself for a moment but she quickly recovered. "To stand and fight, I know that now."

"Is every life truly worth saving?"

"Yes!" came her reply, without hesitation. Her grandmother's face filled her thoughts as if prompting her to continue. "Every life deserves a second chance."

The indistinct figure stepped even closer but she was still unable to make out the features enough to identify him although, in her heart, she knew... and she knew she still had a chance to reach out to him.

An indistinct figure asked, "Even one... such as I... who would turn from the light time and again?"

Somewhat reassured, Rohese nodded firmly and repeated, "Yes, forgiveness is everything."

"Then why... Lady Rohese... have you been unable to forgive yourself?"

Feeling her eyes burn as she attempted to hold back the tears, she finally set aside her long-held anguish and boldly declared, "Because I wasn't ready to do so but now I am. I know that I too am worthy of forgiveness."

“You believe that you are ready... that you can stand against injustice, and your own self-doubt, and be a force for good?"

Firmer in her resolve, Rohese stated, "I will do whatever it takes ... even if it means my humiliation again." Removing the white linen bandage from her arm, she exposed the elaborate mark marring her arm and brushed her fingers lightly over the scar tissue. Taking one final step forward, the figure placed an indistinct hand across the mark.

"Go forth, then, Lady Rohese. With open eyes, and a knowledge that you... matter."

Without even a backward glance, Rohese stepped through the small hatch.

The Present

Rohese found herself in a circular room of doors. The room was lit from above by a massive candelabra and each door was equally spaced from its neighbour. Each of the doors were slightly different in color and had a plaque set at eye height. The ceiling overhead was low, causing the space to feel cramped and confining.

A familiar voice whispered to her. You know what you know. You've seen what you've seen. You've been where you've been. You've lived what you've lived. Now go where you'll go. And remember your manners.

Clutching the book tightly in her hand, Rohese surveyed each of the doors, reading the plaques in turn.

"There is one, there is the other, and never the twain shall meet."

"What is, must always be."

"When the journey ends, there is no more."

"Who we are today is who we'll be tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is tomorrow, and its worries belong to it."

Rohese wished her grandmother was here with her. She would know what to do – which door to choose - but something didn't feel right. Is the path forward always so clear? It is never clear except when the path of righteousness is before you.

Closing her eyes, Rohese searched around and discovered a hidden door. Murmuring under her breath, "Remember my manners," she knocked tentatively on the door three times and watched it slowly swing open before her.

The Path

Ahead of her lay a long hallway, down which ran a plush red velvet runner with stylized golden patterns sewn into it. The walls were sturdy and high, and decorated with palatial tapestries of vibrant scenes. Interspersed along both sides of the runner were a series of small columns, each topped with a small figurine.

Rohese peered curiously at each in turn, noticing that when she touched them, they came alight with faint tendrils of essence. Noticing an elaborate plaque imbedded in the floor, she scanned the unusual phrase and pondered its meaning. “TVYUVW, WTWX, VTYUW, TZXX”

Touching a number of figures in turn, she suddenly felt herself pulled away again.

The Quiet

Surrounded by darkness this time, Rohese quickly realised where she was. There was almost enough light to see by but she was unable to tell where it originated from. Directly overhead was a matte black ceiling and a cool breeze blew through the area. Shifting shapes appeared against the darkness on all sides but their details were impossible to discern. One thing was clear though, Nazhor wasn't here but his book was. Glancing nervously around her, Rohese quickly picked up the book and noticed that the small niche in its center was empty.

"As you see, Lady... the Fallen has made a grave error. Keep this safe. When the Fallen realizes its absence, his rage will be terrible. Seek the crystal. When the two are joined, his ability to draw on the powers of the meek will be no more."

Rohese closed her eyes and nodded. I can do this!

"You are stronger than you have shown thus far, Lady Rohese. The time for self-doubt, fear, and mourning has past. The world needs your strength. Do not disappoint it."

Rohese softly echoed, "I am stronger and I will no longer doubt myself." Kissing three of her fingertips, she pressed them to her heart and felt the comforting presence of her locket beneath her robes.

Fading away, the voice whispered, "Of this, we have no doubt. Fare thee well, Lady Rohese. We shall be watching."

The New

Finding herself back in the Library Aies, Rohese glanced down to see both the Fallen's tome in one hand and her grandmother’s book in the other.

"I will always love you, Sighisoara but it's time I stood on my own two feet."

As the words left her lips, she noticed faint lines of text lifting from the pages of her book. Writhing around her wrists and climbing her arms, the elven script settled into position on her skin and began to dissolve into it. The vellum pages glowed for a moment and the book returned to its original state leaving Rohese gazing in awe at her hands.

Several voices echoed in her mind. Know that I am always with you, child ... I love you, pixie ... Be strong, Rohese, I am inordinately proud of you.

Of Crystals and Tomes

[Darkened Hall, Oculus] 
This space is perfectly round, with a gently sloping ceiling that rises to a small opening at its peak. Through this opening, the light outside comes through and strikes a deeply-flawed crystal mounted in the floor. The floor underneath is firmly packed dirt, and the walls are sheer stone, but the room is curiously bereft of the echoes one would expect from such a space. You also see a narrow doorway. Obvious exits: none 

This ruined crystal has a deep crack cutting a jagged line through its surface. The flaw runs to the heart of the crystal, where there appears to have been a rounded out space. The entire crystal is dull and lifeless, despite the shaft of light striking it.

The faint shaft of natural light coming through the oculus dimmed for a moment as a phalanx of geese passed overhead. Avawren gestured, calling on the spirits to cast Light and the shadows in the Darkened Hall duly retreated. Now able to see a little more clearly, Rohese slowly circled the room to examine the flawed crystal mounted in the floor. Her expression hardened with each step and, on completion of her exploratory circuit, she turned to face Avawren.

As if understanding exactly what Rohese was thinking, Avawren nodded. "Where should I start ..."

She took a deep breath and began, "I don't know how long the existence of this room ... this crystal was known, but I was allowed to see it once, briefly, when it was whole. The entrance is locked and only one person holds the key. Darcena and I were shown it during a gathering of the Circle ..."

She paused to shift her weight, casting a glance at Rohese. "Though I came to know of this room a week or so prior to that."

A little distracted, Rohese nodded faintly, her attention still drawn to the center of the room. Reaching out, she touched the ruined crystal, which remained dull and lifeless despite the shaft of light striking it from the oculus above. A deep crack cut a jagged line through it surface, running to its heart where there appeared to be a rounded-out shape. Something was clearly missing.

Avawren pursed her lips, giving a slight shake of her head. "I wish I'd gotten the chance to show you before it was destroyed. It was beautiful, alive. It ... thrummed. The whole room pulsed with it. I'd have liked to have gotten a sharp pair of Illistimi eyes on it." She offered Rohese a small smile.

Rohese breathed a heavy sigh. Realising that time was of the essence and she could trust Avawren, she made a decision. "I need to show you something."

Rohese reached into her case and pulled out a small blue and black tome covered in silver scrollwork. Showing it to Avawren, she watched her expression closely as the realisation of its significance quickly dawned on the Nalfein.

"You know what this is?"

Avawren arched a brow and, with a smile, simply remarked, "We have a great deal to talk about it seems."

Nodding in agreement, Rohese returned her smile. "It's time the Inner Circle met and we put all our differences aside. I've been complacent for far too long." Slipping the tome back into her case, Rohese glanced at the crystal again before continuing. "Knowing about this place and with Nazhor's tome in our possession, I believe it's time for some decisive action."

With a resigned sigh, she noted, "I also need to meet with Nehor but, this time, I won't let him make a fool of me."

A Meeting of Minds I

They eyed each other with no small amount of scepticism but Rohese hoped they could put aside their differences for a short while to achieve her goal. At least there is no malice in their glances ... or am I fooling myself?

She adjusted her position slightly to avoid Naamit's direct gaze and opened the proceedings.

"Well, I should probably begin then but I ask you all to think kindly of me."

Rohese had spent the last few weeks trying to discern anything she could about the mysteries of the Fallen's tome now in her possession. Whilst she had gleaned much about its purpose, she was still unsure about far too many aspects. It had occurred to her that if her recollections could create correspondence - as they had done with the meek, Ghaila, to successfully acquire it in the first place - then perhaps, as a group, they might be able to reach out to her daughter, the newly ascended meek, Kheelin.

It was going to require a lot of trust on all their parts to be able to share memories from their past that they would not normally feel comfortable doing so, but with so much at stake, she had to try.

Keeping her eyes averted, Rohese began to share the reasons behind her constant feelings of shame and guilt with the small group. Thankfully, they seemed to appreciate her vulnerability and kept their judgement to a minimum.

A light whisper drifted across her thoughts, "Your pain is strong, but you are stronger ..." The air stilled around them all, growing thick. Echoes ceased and all sound felt stifled.

After a little muttering, Darcena relented and offered to share her own painful memory. It was clear from her expression during the whole account, that she too had suffered at the hands of others.

As she drew to a close, a series of faint whispers sounded through the room, some joyful, some sad, but steadily growing in intensity. Bursts of sound and colour exploded in Rohese's mind as she continued her journey through the grey murkiness of her own memories; each image becoming stronger and more painful. The room grew darker around the edges and the outline of a presence could be seen at the far end of the table, its head cocked to one side, listening intently.

Naamit glanced over at Socius. "Fine, I will go next," she said flatly and narrowed her eyes at Rohese.

Rohese squirmed uncomfortably in her chair as she listened to Naamit's account but then noticed that the area under the archway had grown opaque. The figure at the end of the table dispersed, but did not disappear. Instead, it seemed to spread throughout the room.

Furrowing her brow, Darcena asked, "Kheelin?"

A whispered voice sounded through the area, "I... am here... but more... is needed."

All eyes turned to Socius who was touching his scar with a shaking hand. With reassurances from all gathered that no word of anything shared would ever leave the room, Socius began to recount the painful memories relating to the incident around his blemish.

The room grew darker and heavier and the sensation of a presence became solid. A quiet voice intoned, "Thank you all ... your passion and strong memories have created enough correspondence for me to come to you."

With hope in her voice, Darcena repeated, "Kheelin?" to which the quiet voice duly responded, "Indeed, Lady Darcena. It is I. Were it not for the power of your collected memories, I would have been unable to reach you at all."

Rohese traced her finger over the cover of the tome in her hand, circling the small niche directly in its centre.

The quiet voice continued, "The tome of the meek ... Yes ... It is unreadable to almost all ... and cannot be read by any who do not have the crystal."

"The Flock have the crystal, Kheelin," Darcena muttered, "and I don't think we want to hand the tome over to them so they can read it."

"That is unfortunate ... the Council cannot be once again allowed to influence the selection of your world's next meek but correspondence grows weaker and I have limited time to impart knowledge."

Seizing upon the opportunity presented to them, the Circle succinctly relayed their concerns to the meek who in turn offered her insights. Her voice going ever weaker, she finally added, "You must convince one of appropriate power to take up the mantle, with all haste. In a month, the damage is impossible to gauge. Longer than that ... and entropy might take hold."

The echoes in the room started to reverberate and the air grew lighter. She was gone. A slight breeze drifted through the area and the air returned to normal.

Glancing around the room, Rohese noticed their thoughtful expressions. It had worked.

A Meeting of Minds II

Rohese seeks Lylia's advice


[Cyraeni's House, Drawing Room - 19413]
Flowered silk cushions are placed around a low peach marble tea table at the center of the sprawling room.  An enormous driftwood bookcase looms over the varnished mahogany floors that are inlaid with an ornate ivory peony marquetry.  A long, solitary white wall colored in a brilliant mishmash of oil and watercolor paints stands opposite an arched picture window with a scrolling turquoise frame.
Obvious exits: out

You smile.
Lylia gazes admiringly at her surroundings.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "That's better, I would hate to be overhead as it is a matter of some delicacy."
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "Please, take a seat."
You settle yourself on the flowered silk cushions for a moment's rest.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "I gleaned as much, judging by the urgency of your letter and the slant of its writing."
Lylia walks over to the cushions and settles down.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "I'd offer you tea but I'm afraid the hour is late and the staff have all retired."
You bite your lip.
Lylia removes a matte black silver-edged teacup atop small claw-like feet from in her wrap.
Lylia smiles at you.
You smile.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "I am not without recourse."
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "Prepared, as ever."
Lylia takes a drink from her silver-edged teacup.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "You never fail to surprise."
You wrinkle your nose.
Lylia chuckles.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "Now, where to begin."
You thoughtfully tap a finger against your lips.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "Allow me to show you something."
You remove a blue and black tome covered in silvered scrollwork from in your asymmetrical cloak.
You show Lylia your blue and black tome.
Lylia gazes with interest at you.
Lylia takes a drink from her silver-edged teacup.
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "I'm not sure how much you are aware of the recent events here on the island."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "When is a book not a book? When it is a container for something else. How curious."
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "But this happens to be the tome of the meek, more specifically the Fallen meek, Nazhor."
You smile at Lylia.
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you exclaim, "Exactly so!"
Lylia leans forward and rests her chin in her hand, a thoughtful expression on her face.
You place your hand on your blue and black tome.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "I have heard the name Nazhor on many people's lips."
Lylia takes a drink from her silver-edged teacup.
You smile.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "Then you'll understand my discretion in revealing it."
You wrinkle your nose.
Speaking in Elven, you tentatively say, "I ... happened to acquire his tome through a rather interesting series of events."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia replies, "I do. I am certain others covet it."
You bite your lip.
You purse your mouth, pondering your blue and black tome.  Even without a mirror, you know your face reflects your roiling thoughts.
You nod at Lylia.
Lylia looks closely at your blue and black tome.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "They do indeed, which is why I'm seeking your advice."
You glance appraisingly at the blue and black tome in your hand.
Lylia smiles quietly to herself.
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "It requires a crystal to be complete."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "I am going to surmise you know who holds the crystal that completes it."
Speaking pointedly in Elven to Lylia, you assert, "First, I need to make it absolutely clear that I do not wish to seek the power of the tome in any way."
You nod slowly at Lylia.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "I do, and let's just say that he does wish to use the tome for his own ends."
You bite your lip.
Speaking simply in Elven to Lylia, you state, "Nehor."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia coldly says, "Nehor is not someone I hold particularly dear at the moment."
You nod understandingly.
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you ask, "May I speak frankly?"
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "If you are seeking to have him killed, though, I may not be -- yes, of course."
Lylia nods to you.
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "Neither do I and it pains me to say that."
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you add, "I would prefer there to be no bloodshed if at all possible but ..."
You let out a long, contemplative breath.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "There are ways to accomplish a great deal without literal blood-letting."
You smile.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "And that's where I was hoping you might be able to help me."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "If it would please you and vex Nehor, then I have two very good reasons to lend a hand however I can, my dear."
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "Thank you."
Lylia inclines her head.
(Rohese rests her hand over Lylia's with a sigh of relief.)
(Lylia mirrors your gesture with a brief, light touch and a smile.)
Speaking embarrassedly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "Nehor used my anguish over the loss of my husband to win my confidence and in doing so, used me terribly."
You bite your lip.
Speaking tersely in Elven to Lylia, you say, "I do not wish to see a repeat of that."
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "Later today, I have to meet with him to discuss a way of ... collaborating to prevent Nazhor carrying out his plans."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia asks, "And does Nehor wish to collaborate and thwart Nazhor?"
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "He says he does."
You nod.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "He is a known liar."
You nod in agreement.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "Oh I know."
You place a hand over your heart.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia notes, "He is also self-aggrandizing in the extreme. You can use this as a lever to pry him into place."
You nod slowly.
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you ask, "Do you think I should perhaps use his charms against him?"
You incline your head.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "What else do you know of him that you could use in such a fashion? I know him less well than perhaps I should. He was Vicimer's campaign manager, but I think that was an arrangement of convenience, not convictions."
You nod at Lylia.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia replies, "You should use everything against him."
Lylia smiles at you.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "I saw that whole charade as being a way to pursue his own personal agenda too."
You smile.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "Without, of course, being seen to use these tools."
You nod slowly.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "Well, he claimed to have ... feelings for me."
You wrinkle your nose.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia dryly remarks, "Oh, poor you."
You laugh softly, trying to hide your amusement.
Lylia snickers.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "I do not believe it to be true."
Lylia pauses, a flash of pain registering for mere seconds in her expression.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "I know he has no capacity to actually love or empathise with another."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "I would not count on it either. It is a way some men believe they can disarm women -- charming them into believing that..."
Lylia inhales sharply, hissing through her teeth.
You nod in agreement.
Lylia reaches under her amber cuff and scratches her arm.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "So very true."
Speaking ashamedly in Elven to Lylia, you admit, "I almost fell for it."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia apologetically says, "Forgive me if I wince occasionally. I appear to have picked up a gift from Raznel."
Lylia sets her mouth in a thin line of disapproval.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "Oh my."
You clasp a hand over your mouth.
Speaking concernedly in Elven to Lylia, you ask, "I hope you're alright?"
Speaking in Elven, Lylia briskly says, "It is not the matter foremost in my mind at the moment. I endure what I must."
(Lylia shakes her head briefly in dismissal.)
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "Please let me know if you wish to stop at any time then."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "I am well enough, and certainly more than hale enough to deal with the likes of Nehor."
You smile at Lylia.
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you continue, "Well, it occurred to me that during his declaring of such feelings to me, I could sense there was something troubling him."
Lylia nods encouragingly.
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "And I was wondering if you may be able to shed any light on it."
You incline your head.
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you inquire, "Something in his past perhaps?"
Speaking in Elven, Lylia asks, "I can certainly try. What indication did you have of what troubled him?"
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "His past is murky."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia darkly says, "His future is as well, if he crosses too many people."
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "He has ... a look in his eyes that is almost cold but troubled."
You nod at Lylia.
Lylia narrows her eyes.
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "I'm learning this about him."
You let out a long, contemplative breath.
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "I can't believe that all of his behaviour is play-acting."
You close your eyes for a moment.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "I'm sure there is good in the man."
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "If only I could reach him."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "I am not certain if there is good in him. But there is something real enough within him that you could turn into a weapon against him."
You nod.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia smoothly says, "The only question is what that thing may be."
Deep in thought, Lylia laces her fingers before her.
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "I've tried appealing to his conscience but that seems to be a lost cause."
You bite your lip.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia asks, "The best weaponry is that which someone keeps concealed. Do you know any of his secrets?"
You lean forward.
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you whisper aloud, "He leads the Flock, which I believe is part of the ..."
You glance around the room.
You quietly whisper to Lylia, "Council of Light."
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "I have spent many hours in the Library learning as much as I can of it but there is very little written."
You sigh.
Lylia nods thoughtfully.
You recognize Lylia using the Symbol of Recognition.
You smile quietly to yourself.
Lylia smiles at you.
You let out a sigh of relief.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "I had my own acquaintance with them, at some point in time."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "Though I know less about this Flock."
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "I was hoping you might have some knowledge of their activities."
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you clarify, "They are scattered now, hopefully for good."
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "I suspect he may be alone at the meeting today."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia replies, "Sadly, no, not truly. I do know that if Nehor is put in charge of something, that cannot possibly be an auspicious sign."
Lylia smiles wryly.
You giggle.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "Good leadership does not seem like one of his stronger points. He did, after all, back Vicimer."
Speaking lightly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "I believe he is Master of none now."
You smile.
Lylia laughs softly, trying to hide her amusement.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "There is one among his party though, that I think you might also know and may be useful to us."
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you ask, "Ordim?"
You incline your head.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia asks, "Ordim. I know him, but only somewhat. Is he the baker?"
You nod.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "He is."
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "Given that both Nehor and Ordim have committed a number of atrocious acts in recent days, I was wondering if I could perhaps use that as leverage."
Speaking in Elven, you softly note, "My beloved Mirror has a warrant out for Ordim's arrest, in fact."
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "And Nehor has yet to account for the death of many innocents on this isle."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia bluntly says, "Ordim attempted to poison me as well, and nearly succeeded."
With exaggerated slowness you take a deep breath, then pinch the bridge of your nose.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "Marshmallow pie. Like a fool, I ate it, thinking it was a well-meaning gift from an admirer at a campaign event."
Speaking indignantly in Elven to Lylia, you exclaim, "He must be stopped!"
Speaking in Elven, Lylia simply says, "Yes."
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "So if we could ... kill two birds with one stone, so to speak."
You giggle.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "I would be glad to testify, should it come to that. But that is not, in itself, much leverage."
Lylia grins at you.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "Yes, well, we could be more direct and simply kill them, but that would just be gauche."
Lylia raises her voice in merry laughter.
Speaking appreciatively in Elven to Lylia, you say, "That would be wonderful, you are held in such high regard."
Lylia inclines her head.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia demurs, "Kind of you to say so, but the Mirror does not hold me in particularly high esteem. I vexed her once, years ago, at Xorus' instigation."
You wrinkle your nose.
Lylia smiles quietly to herself.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "Xorus had a bit of fun at both her expense and mine, I believe."
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you offer, "I would speak on your behalf, if that might help alleviate that situation."
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "Perhaps we could settle a number of matters through this meeting of minds."
You smile at Lylia.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia warmly says, "I would welcome that."
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you ask, "So, getting to the heart of the matter, how do you think I should best approach this meeting later today?"
Speaking in Elven, you softly ask, "Winsome and naive?"
You flutter your eyelashes.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "Or cold and calculating."
You giggle.
Speaking in Elven, you softly assert, "Either way, Nehor will not be getting the tome."
You place your hand on your blue and black tome.
Lylia thoughtfully taps a finger against her lips.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "You have a wonderful tool at your disposal, one that Nehor lacks. Your reputation."
You incline your head.
Speaking in Elven, you abashedly say, "I have been led to believe that there will be 6 others standing behind me that are held in equal regard."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "People presume they know you. You can also use something that I have learned: Most people are entirely happy to mistake courtesy for kindness, goodness, mercy, and all manner of positive things."
You smile at Lylia.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "Your courtesy is unassailable. People will expect you to be kind. Soft. Yielding."
You nod slowly.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia quips, "One might even say meek."
You laugh softly, trying to hide your amusement.
You glance at the blue and black tome in your hand.
Speaking in Elven, you lightly exclaim, "Given what I'm holding, that might be his fear!"
A small area of Lylia's skin twitches oddly.
Lylia grins at you.
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "But I do not seek ascension."
You vigorously shake your head.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia asks, “Does Nehor know that?”
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "... actually."
You thoughtfully tap a finger against your lips.
Speaking in Elven, you softly exclaim, "I don't think he does!"
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "I see what you're saying."
You nod slowly.
Lylia smiles at you over the rim of her teacup, tilting it slightly to reveal the pink salorisa blossoms painted within it, before taking a sip.
Lylia takes a drink from her silver-edged teacup.
You purse your mouth, pondering your blue and black tome.  Even without a mirror, you know your face reflects your roiling thoughts.
You smile quietly to yourself.
Speaking excitedly in Elven to Lylia, you acknowledge, "That could work."
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "But then, he will be even more reluctant to hand over the crystal."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "Perhaps you can claim you do seek ascension. And that you, moved by his professions of deeper and finer feelings, wish to share this with him. Or to look upon him with favor once you have ascended."
You furrow your brow, probably adding a wrinkle or two in the process.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "Oh my."
Your thoughts roil, a tumult of quick images and phrases.  Inhaling and exhaling slowly, you press a hand to your chest.
You nod slowly at Lylia.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia admits, "It is a bold gambit."
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "What an interesting idea."
You think to yourself for a while.
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "I knew you were the right person to consult on this."
Lylia inclines her head.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia admits, "I do have some experience with diplomacy, which is rather trickier among certain Faendryl Pentact leaders than others."
Lylia takes a drink from her silver-edged teacup.
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "I will certainly put this idea to the Inner Circle and see if we might be able to convince him of such absurdities, it's the kind of thing he would understand."
You wrinkle your nose.
Speaking in Elven, you amusedly say, "It never occurred to me to even consider such a thing."
You giggle to yourself.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "It is, of course, only one possibility."
You nod at Lylia.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "And certainly another option for us."
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "I fear we may need many."
You bite your lip.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "You had asked if you should be winsome and charming or calculating? You need not choose."
Lylia smiles at you.
You incline your head.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "He is probably expecting tearful and easily manipulated.  That is no longer the case."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "To be blunt, men often assume that a soft voice cannot cloak a steel resolve."
You nod in agreement at Lylia.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "It is not in my nature to stamp and shout."
You wrinkle your nose.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "Well, perhaps I did at my husband once or twice."
Lylia nods in agreement to you.
You glance away.
You smile quietly to yourself.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "But that is another matter entirely."
You wrinkle your nose.
Lylia absentmindedly twists her silver wedding band back and forth on her finger.
Lylia smiles quietly to herself.
You smile at Lylia.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia gently says, "Yes, quite a different matter."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "The fact that you do not typically show anger or flash the steel will that is within you makes it all the more powerful when it does appear. That, too, is a tool you may use against him."
Speaking in Elven, you wistfully say, "I wish he was here; he would know how to help me."
You let out a long, contemplative breath.
You nod at Lylia.
Lylia nods sympathetically to you.
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you confess, "And Nehor does make me so angry."
You take a tiny sip of your warm lavender tea, warming your lips and making sure it isn't too hot to drink.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia coldly says, "He is a small man who tries to cast a very long shadow so he may feel like a tall one. A twisted man who tries to stand at just the right angles to appear straight-limbed and true. A false man who tries to offer truths but cannot help but reveal the lies inherent within everything he does."
You bite your lip.
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you remark, "You do know him well, it seems."
Ruminating upon Lylia, you give consideration to her qualifications.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "I hold him in disdain, if not contempt, and if it were not for the fact that he undoubtedly has a few allies who would make my life difficult, I would see him dead."
You nod understandingly.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia indifferently says, "His ultimate fate is nothing to me."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "The fate of the crystal, on the other hand, seems rather important."
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "Then if I can make reparation for that too, I will be heartened indeed."
With an empathetic nod, you take Lylia's hand in yours for a moment and give it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
Lylia inclines her head.
Lylia smiles at you.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia asks, "You wish to have it, and he will doubtless try to persuade you to hand over the tome so he may...hmm, so he may do what? What will he want?"
Lylia gazes with interest at you.
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "I mentioned earlier of others who have offered to stand behind me ..."
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "He wants the tome to use for his own purposes before he deals with Nazhor, it's as simple as that."
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "What those purposes are, I cannot rightly say at the moment."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "He will want the tome so he can prove his 'goodness,' I think. So he can make amends. Perhaps your way through is to prove to him that only a selfless act, not one of self-aggrandizement such as demanding to be the one to hold both, is the only way in which he can earn back some of the lost faith others may have once had in him."
Lylia nods to you.
You nod understandingly.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "Yes, those who stand behind you; I recall your mentioning them."
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "They are a force to be reckoned with in their own right and may help me persuade him to relent."
Speaking in Elven, you softly state, "Ceyrin and Naamit, Darcena and Avawren, Socius and I believe Elspie is returning."
Lylia chuckles.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "Yes. Some of them are quite persuasive. Women with a whip often are."
You smile.
Lylia takes a drink from her silver-edged teacup.
Speaking in Elven, you softly admit, "We are not on the best terms, but in this, I am grateful for her ..."
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "... what's the right word."
You act puzzled.
Speaking in Elven, you lightly quip, "Support."
Lylia flashes a quick grin at you.
Lylia nods in agreement.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "It is my hope that seeing a united front on this matter will force his hand before we even begin to negotiate."
Speaking in Elven, you amusedly say, "All Nehor is likely to have at his back is a muffin-dusted halfling with a severe tick."
You giggle to yourself.
Lylia snickers.
Speaking in Elven, you softly apologize, "I'm sorry, that was cruel of me."
You place a hand over your heart.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "It is not cruel to be blunt in private."
You smile quietly to yourself.
Speaking in Elven, you softly note, "It does bode well for us in that regard."
Speaking in Elven, you softly muse, "Anyone of us could be considered for ascension really."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia asks, "You know you are not to be moved on the subject of handing over the tome. What if he is equally adamant about the crystal?"
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "Then our only recourse is to suggest a third party hold both."
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "Or play his bluff and say that we will have to deal with Nazhor another way."
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you add, "And given how Nazhor has treated Nehor recently, I don't think he'd like that idea."
You wink at Lylia.
Lylia grins slowly at you.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "One option might be to have the Ta'Illistim Loremasters hold them."
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "Or perhaps even split the artefacts between the Loremasters and the Hall of Mages."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia noncommittally says, "That is one possibility. If you do, though, you may never see tome or stone again. Loremasters have a way of holding onto such things and squirrelling them away in laboratories."
You nod in agreement.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "That is a concern."
Lylia takes a drink from her silver-edged teacup.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "But we really only need to keep them both safe while a new meek is sought.  Once ascended, I don't believe they would have any difficulty in retrieving what is rightfully theirs."
Lylia nods.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "Dealing with Nazhor is the more urgent concern really and he must not be allowed to get them back.  I don't trust Nehor to be able to do that."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "There is a truth to that that I believe even Nehor must see."
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "Nazhor has already proven himself to be quite adept at winning Nehor's support."
You nod at Lylia.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "I am hoping so."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia simply says, "You do not trust him. He knows he can trust you. This plain set of facts may be all the leverage you need."
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "I think that is why he agreed to meet with me."
You nod.
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "Then that is the stance I shall adopt at the outset."
You smile at Lylia.
Lylia nods approvingly.
Speaking gratefully in Elven to Lylia, you say, "Thank you so much for your time this morning, you have been a wonderful help."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "It is always best to use truths, and you have many of them at your disposal. His quarrel of them is all but empty."
Lylia inclines her head.
You wrinkle your nose.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "I am happy to do what I can, especially if it foils Nehor."
You gaze in amusement at Lylia.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia hisses, "Nasty little goblin of a half-man."
Lylia narrows her eyes.
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "Then I hope my next letter to you will be a happier and less urgent one."
You giggle at Lylia.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "I hope so, and I shall hope for word soon of the outcome of your meeting."
Lylia stands up.
Lylia fidgets and fusses with her ebon velvet overgown, making certain of the fit.
Speaking softly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "I will make it a priority."
Speaking fondly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "And now I shall let you return to matters of state, Lady Mayoress."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia warmly says, "You are kind, my friend. And you are also quite a bit more powerful and resilient than you have needed to know you are. Rely on this in your negotiations."
Speaking in Elven, Lylia reminds, "Use everything. Everything is a weapon."
You nod firmly.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "Tears. Anger. Smiles. Affection, and the withholding of it."
Speaking graciously in Elven to Lylia, you say, "Thank you, I shall remember your words and hold firm."
You smile at Lylia.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "I have every faith in you."
Lylia leans forward.
Lylia kisses you tenderly on the cheek.
Speaking in Elven, you adamantly say, "No more tears will be shed over that man."
You kiss Lylia on the cheek.
You smile.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia quips, "It is called acting."
Lylia raises her voice in merry laughter.
You giggle.
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "I might have to practice."
You wrinkle your nose.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "He has done enough of it."
Speaking in Elven, you softly exclaim, "So true!"
Speaking fondly in Elven to Lylia, you say, "And we must do this again in better circumstances."
Speaking in Elven, you softly say, "With the staff around to make tea for us."
You smile.
Speaking in Elven, Lylia says, "I look forward to it. And to the tea."
Lylia places a hand over her heart.
You stand back up.
Lylia bows to you.
You smile at Lylia.
You curtsy gracefully to Lylia.
Mayor Lylia just went out.

Repudiation

Dipping the nib into the inkwell, Rohese paused for a moment and pensively tapped the quill against her lips. Her gaze drifted out of the window across the orchard to the forest beyond the surrounding walls and she smiled to herself. It was good to be home again and feeling somewhat at peace with her circumstances but lately her thoughts had drifted to Elspie.

It had been a month since she had last seen her and Rohese had not really reconciled with the way matters had been handled in that regard. I need to explain my actions and apologise. I wonder if she would agree to meet with me? There’s only one way to find out!

A gentle breeze caused the curtains to billow, bringing with it the scent of oleander and thyme. Rohese breathed deeply and began to write. Several sheets of vellum later, Rohese sat back in her chair and laid her quill down. She worked the tension from her fingers and reached for her sealing wax.

Having second thoughts about the closing commentary on her Nehor predicament, she removed the last page of her letter and tore it up. Lifting the quill again, she rewrote the final paragraph, this time with a little more tenacity. As if firming her resolve, she re-dotted the letter "i" and crossed the "t" in the word "repudiated" and finally sealed the letter. Adding it to the pile of correspondence for that day, she rose from her desk and went in search of some fresh tea.

Regrets? No Regrets!

The Black Moor soared past Rohese as she spurred her mount into a full gallop, the thundering hooves splitting the silence of the pre-dawn. A thick grey mist swirled in the bone-chilling wind, its ghostly tendrils attempting to wrap themselves around the filly’s legs as they negotiated the heather and charred rocks covering the bleak landscape.

Isilme moved swiftly, her powerful limbs tearing into the earth and her ear’s twitching with the obvious pleasure of just being one with her rider. Rohese’s grip tightened on the reins and her knuckles whitened as she leaned forward to urge her on – faster and faster they flew - the icy wind whipping the filly’s flaxen mane into the air to blend with Rohese’s free-flowing tresses.

I should have worn gloves. Her rebuke was fleeting; she actually relished the feel of the cold damp wind seeping into her skin. Rohese’s mind raced with each surge of the filly’s muscular body. I made the right choice ... I made the right choice ... the phrase pounded in her head with every heart-thumping footfall.

It was only when daylight had broken through the cloud cover, that she allowed Isilme to slow. They had long since passed through the ancient stone gate and down the Old Barrow Road to reach the High Plains. Finally pausing to catch their breath, both horse and rider took a moment to savour the silence of their surroundings and warmth of the sun. The rolling, misty plain stretched in all directions, bound by the dark forms of the distant hills. Scattered stones and patches of brambles broke the landscape here and there, and the steady wind pushed faint clouds of fog in an everchanging swirling pattern.

Now at a standstill, the disorderly events of last night in the Ta’Illistim Argentate came flooding back. The court session had brought back all the painful memories of an earlier trial and Rohese bit back the tears that had started to well in her eyes. No more tears! This time the rebuke was harsher and resonated longer.

Gracefully dismounting, Rohese led Isilme over to a patch of dew-laden grass and allowed her to graze.

Torn between the desire to help Elspie, with her plea for clemency, and finally seeing Nehor and Ordim answer for their crimes, Rohese had spoken out, but it had all be in vain ... again. Was there really such a thing as justice anymore? The last time Nehor had been brought to trial, she had watched it all dissolve before her eyes. Last night was no better; the whole session had been a circus from start to finish. Was there no end to Nehor’s ability to be puppet master?

The Argent Mirror had listened to everyone give evidence or share their insights, including Rohese, but to no avail. Yes, Ordim had been banished for the time being – that was something - but Nehor ...

She was suddenly reminded of an earlier conversation with Socius: "Nehor ... when he is seen, shall be dealt with. Harshly. His role in this has not gone unnoticed by me and he must pay for the pain he has brought to the Isle."

When! When will he be called to account for the pain and suffering he has inflicted?

Stepping close to a flaxen-maned white filly, Rohese threw her arms around her neck and hugged her. In response, the filly lay her chin against Rohese’s back and pulled her closer.

Rohese’s expression was grave as she pondered her options. The warm steady breath of Isilme on the back of her neck soothed her and she was reminded of a different voice, a gentler voice; one that brought a smile to her face: "... the pieces will fall where they may." Enough. I did the right thing and I am done being made a fool of in the name of justice.

Placing her left foot into the stirrup, she pushed off and gracefully remounted the filly. With the reins firmly in hand, she turned Isilme south and towards home.