LXV. Welcoming Arms
You need some time away from Blue more. It is win-win; he gets to hunt down and murder a fox, and you get to not have to deal with him for a bit
and also he'll be happier when he comes back. Yes, the downside of this is that you will have to deal with a stroppy teenage girl who is feeling patronised — and that is not a threat to be underestimated — but on the plus side Inaan is not a soul-eating prince of the chaotic madness that swirls endlessly outside the world.
All things considered, that's probably better. Maybe.
"My Blue," you tell him fondly. "You can be my champion in this endeavour."
His back straightens, and he bows to you floridly, his orange eyes ablaze with eager ambition. "My lady! I will make you proud! And bear your timely token with valour!"
Fuck. A token. You rummage around in your pockets and find a handkerchief. "It is a mere frippery, my Blue!"
"Nothing from your radiant self could ever be 'mere'," he tells you with his vacant-headed smile.
"It is not worthy of you," you play along.
"Your smile alone, your kiss, your company; this is all I need! Such a token will keep me content in the dark days to come!" He brings you in for a kiss, sweeping you low. You eagerly kiss back, tasting the star anise that is his personal flavour.
Inaan makes a loud gagging sound and mimes being sick. Everyone's a critic these days, and romance is wasted on teenagers. Maybe when she grows up she'll understand how it feels to have a man hanging on your every word.
"Stay safe, my love!" he murmurs to you, and then in a great leap he is over the side, the sun in his hair and the wind in his burnoose.
"Actually vomit inducing," Inaan grumps. "And the fox ran away because you two were being so loud. Mostly him. It's like you don't know how to hunt." She pauses. "A woman of your standing should think more about the men she associates with," she adds.
"Darling, I'm a dragon-child, and I have no husband — I have no
need for a husband," you say, watching Blue as he begins his hunt. "I'll associate with whoever I want."
"You picked your bodyguard just for his looks!" she accauses. "Have you no shame?"
That gets your hackles up, and you turn to glare at the petulant, insolent teenager. "Why should I be ashamed that I have a very pretty young man as my bodyguard? Though I didn't pick him just for his looks. He is a better swordsman than me — and therefore you, too." You exhale slowly. "So do not push him, Inaan. He is very handsome and I am quite fond of what he can do for me. But he isn't as nice as I am. And pushing him might result in you accidentally calling him out."
"Then call him off!"
"If you challenge him, his own sense of honour will drive him to fight you."
She stares at you, hands balled into fists. "So of course you choose your lover over me," she says, voice far more cutting for how soft it is. Cutting, but distinctly unsurprised. There's probably something going on there, but you don't care. Everyone always has a reason for what they do, but it's not your job to chase it down and fix it.
"Inaan, we are close to a bordermarch," you say, making things up as you go. "I'm not going to let you go chase a suspicious fox."
"Yet you'll let him do it!"
"Because he's a very dangerous swordsman! Were you not listening to what I literally just said?"
"You said I had talent!"
"And talent isn't enough to handle an area touched by chaos!" You pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a stress headache coming on. "There is a difference between a wyld hunt and one person haring off on their own."
"Like your
bodyguard?"
How unimaginative. "I wouldn't go off on my own here. He has his own talents. Talents which surpass mine when it comes to fighting creatures of chaos. Blue is very good at what he does." You are not lying. It's true. It doesn't include thinking, but that is why you are here.
She hunches up her shoulders, twisting her balled hands in her outer layers. "I thought you were different!"
"I'm not going to let you go off and get yourself killed in a bordermarch."
"You're just a hypocrite."
"Yes, yes, and I'm unfair and mean and horrible. Are you done?
Student?" You unsheath just a little bit of your voice, a little bit of your commanding presence as a dragon-child, and Inaan flinches.
You want to see how she reacts. Whether she mouths off with things she knows she shouldn't say, too consumed by her passions and tempers, or whether she manages to contain them. Because if she can't handle such a mild reprimand, you will cut her loose without a single care. You cannot teach those who refuse to learn, and you have no use for someone who has not an iota of self control.
To something of her credit, she purses her lips, and bites back what she was clearly itching to say. "I'm
sorry," she snaps in the most-teenaged, least-meaning-it way possible, and storms off.
It is too damn hot for you to carry on with the argument, and she needs some time alone. So rather than talk to her, you instead seek out her brother.
It is disgusting how well-dressed and well-shaven Zia is right now. He is looking better than you, dressed in soft teal and brown morning-dress rather than travelling clothes. Does he have a secret bath hidden on this ship? That he's hiding from you?
No, no, that's ridiculous. It is more likely a consequence of the fact he spends no time on deck at all, where the winds might ruffle his clothing or dry out his skin. His cabin is small, but soft; soft-cushioned, draped with wall-hangings, plushly rugged. Zia likes the best things in life.
"You spend all your time down here reading, or playing Gateway against Amigere. Do you not get ship-sick?" you ask him, standing in the doorway.
"I never have," he informs you.
Disgusting and unfair. You slump down on his cushioned chair, and let your head sink into your hands.
"My little sister is not quite as cute and innocent as you might have thought," he says dryly.
"You heard?"
He looks meaningfully up at the roof of his cabin. "Who didn't hear? This is not a large vessel, and we were not crossing loud terrain."
You nod. The sandships on the way south were louder, but you still had to keep your voices down or you would be heard through the walls. "So you know what happened?"
"Enough." He flicks his fringe out of his eyes. "You did the right thing, for what it's worth. Well, not necessarily letting your… bodyguard loose, but in stopping her going. She is just a child, after all. Even if she has our mother's temper and passions."
"Oh?"
"Mother is a… tempestuous, passionate woman. She knows what she wants and she goes out to get it." He smiles at you. "You and Mother are very much alike."
You don't know how to feel about that. You choose not to say anything.
"Do you think your Blue will be fine?" he asks. "Really?"
"Oh yes. He has hunted wyld beasts before. I doubt anything here will pose him much problem," you say.
"Mmm. Hmm." Zia swallows, turning the page of his book without looking at him. "Are you… that is to say, do you consider yourself to be, uh. Single and unattached right now?"
You meet his eyes, raising one eyebrow. "Dear boy, now why would you want to know that?"
"N-n-no I'm not asking for me, you see, it's not… I could never… you—"
You just sit there, waiting to see where this goes. He is so pretty when he blushes like this. Zia swallows deeply, and trails off.
"Why don't you try again?" you ask, giving him a fond smile.
"I… that is, I was asking for. For family reasons. Just in case. Because you… well, you have your bodyguard and that birdman — which will be something of a scandal! — and I believe it is hardly a secret that the three of you are involved and-and-and there will be Calibration parties at the estate and I was just wondering whether, uh. Um. How things will." He coughs nervously and looks down. "Resolve."
"They're not my husbands, Zia. They are working for me. And like I told your sister, I am not looking to settle down with anyone." You reach over, and lift up his chin with one finger so his eyes meet yours. "I know I play around, darling. And I've done it for quite a long time. It is how I am, nothing more. But I don't want people to get hurt. I'm not a married woman, and just because I take someone to bed doesn't mean they get my hand or my heart. Sometimes it's just a way to make some fun."
Zia is a mouse cornered by a queen, and he seems to have completely seized up. You do hope you haven't broken him. Not yet, at least. It isn't like you're lying to him. And the wives who blame you for certain incidents which have occasionally forced you to make an exit from the window had only themselves to blame. Well, and their husbands. The husband was the one who broke the oath they'd sworn to each other, not you.
But things do not proceed quite like you had a vague intention of. Instead, he blurts out, "I'm sorry, and I'm flattered, but… but I just can't. It's..." He pushes your hand away. "I… please leave, Meria. I… I like you. But I can't be who you want. It's complicated. Go to your birdman. Or… or your swordsman when he gets back. Not me."
You rise. "I wasn't trying to seduce you, Zia," you say. You're not lying. Not really. You just reached out to see if he'd rise to the occasion. "But I will be attending those Calibration parties - and my arrangement with my boys doesn't mean I won't be interested in meeting new people. But… darling?"
"Y-yes?"
"Please talk to your sister. And it might be an idea to have her play you at Gateway or something so she doesn't get the urge to go riding off and hunting down some beast to show me. I'd talk to her, but I am not currently her favourite person."
"Ah. Yes. That'd be wise."
Blue has not returned by the stage that the sun is reaching the top of the dam. Shadows creep across the landscape. You are, though you would not say so to anyone, feeling somewhat worried.
Not that he's been killed, because there are few things that could easily kill him in these wastes. More that he's got lost and doesn't have the brains to find the ship again. That moron. Maybe you need to put a bell on him.
Your pondering is distracted by a loud twang, and the just-as-immediate loud flapping of the sails. You recognise that sound from the sandships on the way south; a rope has snapped.
Well, you can leave it up to the crew to repair things. You light a candle, sit down and get back to work on your notes, trying not to worry.
After a bit, Amigere pokes his head in. "Oh, Meira!"
"Mmm?"
"Did you hear the rope break? I've talked with the crew and it doesn't sound good. We'll be limping on to the next port, they said."
"I understand," you say wearily. "It could be worse, I suppose. At least we're not short for supplies. Oh, by the way, Blue went off hunting."
"Yes, Meira, I heard. And so did everyone else on the ship."
You pout at him. "That's what Zia said."
"He's a waste of skin with soft hands, but that doesn't make him wrong."
"That's a little rude, darling."
"And that doesn't make
me wrong," Amigere says, running his hand across his head and re-settling his windblown feathers. "Anyway, since Blue is away…"
"Shoo. I'm working on my notes," you say, flapping your hands at him by way of punishment.
The sun has set below the dam, and the second-hand light of the blue sky illuminates the world softly. A cry comes out from the watchman.
"Dock! Dock, ho!"
The words don't register at first through the thick accent. Your first thought is that this is a wretched city, that the word 'dock' only means a dock for a sandship or landshi, and you have to call a real dock a water-dock to explain it to them. But your second thought is far more nasty and suspicious.
There shouldn't be a dock ahead. Not yet, not from what Zia said about the distances between land-ports. And you can taste chaos in the air. You put your notes away and head up to the deck, bringing your spyglass with you.
It hardly proves necessary.
A light mist clings to the ruined buildings. It washes away their sins, smooths their flaws, and in the amorphous softness it gives an air of majesty and grace that you have not seen in Cahzor before. Ahead of you, a single building is well-lit and whole and wholesome, with clean white walls wreathed in sweet-smelling flowers, bedecked with paper lanterns and tapestry-draperies, and roofed with terracotta. You can already hear music drifting from it. And goodness! They even have their own land dock where you can pull in for repairs!
"Goodness!" Zia says. "Such fortune! I wasn't expecting to find somewhere civilised for miles yet."
You call bullshit.
"You weren't?" you say neutrally.
"Thinking of it, I had heard mention of some lovely accommodation around here, but I can't remember where I heard of it."
"Oh, really?" you say. You peer at the building through your spyglass, and see the fox motif in the guardian statues - and goodness. The red robed man out the front even has fox ears. "And this isn't suspicious?" you test.
"Why would it be?"
You focus. Zia's eyes are covered up by many-coloured flowers which resemble no earthly bloom; similar flowers grow from his ears. Wonderful. So he's been ensorcelled. Glancing back, you can see the same marks of warped perceptions on the tillerman and the watchman.
Well, there's really no point in protesting. You can't sail this ship without the crew, and you're too close to break the illusions that have captivated them. You suspect that they're an ensorcellment of omission, rather than deception; they will not see or hear anything that would make them suspicious. It is always wearisome to have to shake people out of them, especially if said omissions include 'someone telling them what this place is'.
The wheels of the ship rattle as it slowly pulls into the port, and a gangplank is slid across. And then there are red-robed men and women with fox ears here.
"Welcome, welcome!"
"Oh, such noble guests! We are your humble servants!"
"We seldom see people as important as you! We are so remote you see!"
"We can talk about costs later! For now, eat up, relax, and enjoy our baths!"
You — barely — resist the urge to pinch the ridge of your nose. These idiots. These complete and utter fools. Do they really think that anyone with the slightest hint of awareness of these matters would not recognise this place for what it is?
The bright colours, the delicious smells, the handsome fox men (oh and there are some fox ladies here too, you
guess). The broken rope. The fact it is exactly what a weary traveller would want.
This is a fae-lure. For creatures of chaos they can really be very predictable, and if there is one rule to the world, it is this; wherever you find harsh journeys through unpleasant climates and there is a wyldpool nearby, you will find fae who thought it was a good idea to pretend to be a waystation so they can get people to stop there. Sometimes they'll just take a week of dreams, sometimes they'll eat up their victims and crunch their bones once they've drained them dry over the course of days. That's just how the fae do.
You glance over your travelling companions. Even Inaan is smiling, apparently entirely over her snit — so the ensorcellment is fogging her mind to the degree she has even forgotten you are horrible, mean, etc. No one seems to suspect a thing. Well, you
guess that when you're a prince of chaos whose glamours can entrap the mortal mind, you don't have to come up with original ploys. But still, very sloppy. Though it must be noted that they lured Blue off with the fox so they're smarter than some fae you've encountered, tricked, and forced into servitude.
"Beautiful, graceful, lovely ladies," says a rakish-looking man who wears only a short kilt and whose fluffy red tail is wrapped around his waist as a belt. You wouldn't mind petting him. "Might I escort you two to the noblewomen's section? You have travelled long and hard and now you have to relax and let out all your stresses and worries."
Mmm. He's definitely flirting with you. You check your hair, looking like you're making sure it looks nice. That's only a secondary concern; you're actually making sure the hairpins that Peacock style lets you kill a man with are still there.
All things considered, you could play along. Just for a bit. Get an idea of what their deal is, how smart they are, how many true fae and how many hobs are here, what leverage you have over them — and of course, wait for Blue to come back. Because he will come back, unless he's dead. Your darling moron will be delighted at the prospect of a quest to rescue his lost lady, and you may just have to swoon into his arms to reward him. The fact that while you scout things out you'll get to enjoy the delights of this place does not at all provide you with motivated reasoning.
Then again, there's definitely a bit of you that wants to find the idiot running the place and deal with them directly. Which may end with you actually coming to an arrangement, or you may have to fight a prince of chaos to the death. Not an attractive prospect, but it would handle the disrespect of being treated this way.
Rena is reasonably sure that whatever she picks and whatever this fae game is, they won't start killing people (if they're the sort to kill people) for a couple of days. Sure, some of her companions may be left exhausted and sick from dream-theft, but that can be handled by a few days of bed rest. That's not her problem.
And what that means is she needs to now decide whether she goes along with it to give her time to scout them out and work out what they can actually do, or whether she tries to seize the moment.
What Does Rena Do?
[ ] Play Along. For Now. There's no need to act rashly, not in a fae pleasure den with pretty fox-boys. She'll find out their deal, find out how strong there are and how many true fae are here, and then see where it goes. And also take advantage of the services here.
[ ] Demand To See The Manager. Look, this is very nice and all, but she wants to find whoever is in charge and have a talk with them. A long talk about the disrespect of them trying to entrap her. It may end in murder. Or in a mutually beneficial arrangement.
