The Artisans Pride V
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In a city of wonders, where the plants spoke and spirits of flame shared the sky with titans of steel, the mundane was easily overlooked. Mind, even in other cities, nobody would have given the man on the bench much of a second look. Just an old man waiting for something or someone, enjoying the warm, southern breeze and the treat in his hand. Sweet Cloud the merchant nearby called it, some delicacy from the Plane of Air, made of tiny filaments of sugar. It was significantly more noteworthy then the man idly plucking bits of it from the stick and eating them, or at least that what the average passerby assumed.
The woman who stepped too the bench though? She drew far more eyes with her dress that was far from decent, revealing most of her back and the rather gloomy tattoo of butterflies impaled on a thorny rose bush. A few began to whisper about the pair to each other, wondering what the two of them could have for business with each other. When the woman fiddled with something in her purse for a moment and began to speak, many ears suddenly loosing interest in the pair. Their discussion was very mundane and boring, and took far too much effort to listen to, so nobody bothered. It was in fact so mundane and boring that everyone who did try to listen immediately forgot what they heard and just wandered off, certain that there was nothing worth noticing here.
"I wouldn't have taken you for someone who preferred not to be noticed," the old man said, then plopped another bit of sugar into his mouth. The woman laid a hand on her chest, an exaggerated look of shock thrown back at him.
"Wisdom Qyburn! Do you want to call me vain?" He made no move in return, just calmly chewing his treat. "I think the word is 'extroverted' in Low Valyrian. Would you truly try to claim otherwise, what with your attire today?"
"Ah, but it's so freeing to finally have some aspect of my art I can show in public without startling the poor souls here." She turned around, turning her back to him and drawing her hair aside to give him a better view.
"Don't you like it?" "I'm afraid my sense for the arts is woefully underdeveloped, my lady, so I will refrain from judging it." Thus she turned back, making a point of looking sulkily at him.
"You are a cruel man. First you invite a lady to the festival and then you shun her." She didn't wait long to see if she would get a rise out of him, knowing perfectly well that she would have better chances with a rock.
"Why are you here anyway? I thought you wanted to continue our project while I took a few days off for my own projects."
"Such as the woman running from your shop last week?" He arched and eyebrow at her, though Elaheh just nodded in response, seeing nothing wrong with what happened there. "I hope you are aware that the king might be cross with you if he hears of this. She is one of his foundlings." Despite his stern voice, she waved him off.
"I'm sure he understands, if he cares at all. He brought her to me after all, so I figured I might as well help her out a bit." "By terrorizing her?"
"By helping her to gain a new perspective on things." "I'm not sure if that has worked, though she certainly gave me a new perspective when she bowled me over on her way out."
When this familiar complaint surfaced, she crossed her arms and glared at the old man next to her.
"I've already apologized for that, even though I don't see it as my fault in the first place." In return a smiled. It was small, crooked and looked like one of those smiles you never wanted to see in person, which made Elaheh huff in annoyance at having been had. It was easy to forget that even Qyburn would join in some friendly ribbing, if prodded long enough. After a moment of silence, she turned back to watching the crowd. It was getting thicker by the moment, everyone trying to get to the Circle of Battle in time to hear the kings speech.
"You didn't answer my question though. Why did you want to meet here?"
"I meant to ask a favor of you. There are some books I need to look over in the library, but I can't copy them, so I need someone to take care of young Ramsay for me tomorrow."
"Oh? He is here too?" "Yes. It was pointed out to me that a young man shouldn't spent all his time in a gloomy cavern with the living dead." Elaheh hummed thoughtfully, her gaze shifting to the sky and watching a flock of phoenixes passing by.
"I was wondering when Vee would object to his presence." "She didn't. It was Lord Saan who said that to me. He was worried that the boys hair would turn grey and his loins wither before he is old enough for a beard." He threw an annoyed look at the woman, who had begun snorting at the comparison. "His words, not mine."
"Where is he then?" "Currently he is with young Ser Royce's ward and the princesses' gremlins. I felt it would defeat the point of the exercise if I were to tag along. They'll watch the fireworks from the keeps gardens later and I would ask you to keep an eye on him from then to noon tomorrow, when he has an appointment at the Scholarium."
"So you want him to leave Gogossos entirely? You seemed rather fond of the boy." Qyburn nodded once, then quietly murmured the words of a cantrip to clean his hands and have the now empty wooden stick in his hand float to a can at the nearby stall of the seller. "I am, but I don't have as much time to teach him and keep him out of trouble as I used to. Lord Bolton was clear that I should take good care of him and I feel the Scholarium is better equipped to take care of his special needs."
At this, Elaheh turned back to him and studied him carefully.
"What special needs? The boy seemed decently bright and eager to learn. Polite too." "Eager he is. A bit too eager sometimes. There was an incident with one of the less favored servants at the Dreadfort that displeased Lord Bolton greatly." He meaningfully glanced at the bustling crowd on the street, silently conveying that this tale was nothing to be told in an open street. "I do not wish to have to explain myself for letting something similar occur again."
"Fine then. I will look after him for the day. Given how the beer and wine is flowing, I doubt that I would have many pleasant customers tonight anyway." Qyburn rose at that moment, but before he could take his leave, Elaheh grabbed one of the folds of his robe.
"Under one condition though. I want to know what books you are reading that are so delicate that you can't bring them to Gogossos." In return he sighed, gently pushing her hand away. "I would have not expected that there would be so many people trying to pry into my private work when I made my pledge to the king."
"So? You are asking me for a favor, so I can ask you for one in return. Tell me what you are doing."
For a moment he looked thunderous, an expression that she had never seen on his face except when talking about his past at the Citadel, but it quickly mellowed into resignation. "It is not ready to show anyone. Idle thought experiments and aimless tinkering."
"The question is if you feel to need to do this alone or if you would accept some help." "Maybe, but it's more a matter of..." He quietly trailed off, shaking his head with a mien of regret. "My work on the matter of the unliving was never an end in of itself. My goal had always been to unearth the secrets of the living flesh. Later on I realized that the unliving flesh is similar, yet distinct, so I began to study it and other states more deeply, seeking to blend the states."
Elaheh quietly nodded, seeing where this was going.
"And then you saw Gogossos." "Indeed. So much knowledge, so many wonders, all within my reach. So many years wasted to rediscover the scraps of what Valyria could achieve. I once believed the mind to be more valuable then the flesh, for it could be molded by study and discipline while the body is static. Now I see you twist your flesh each and every day, while I struggle to leave the paths I took years and decades ago. Even the power that felt so liberating when it returned to the world reminds me every day of the limits I've set upon myself with the paradigm I had chosen." Again he shook his head, this time turning from her. "I will show you when I have something worth showing and not earlier. That is all I can promise."
He took a step away and this time she didn't stop him.
AN: Some more slice of life from the dysfunctional artists commune.
