disclaimer: If you didn't know at first, you have probably guessed by now
that I am not Sherwood Smith, and I do not own the characters and places of
Crown Duel. My brilliant writing fooled you at first, right? (I wish!)
There is going to be a lot of fan language in this chapter.
Chapter 5: Tea at the Baroness' and an Unexpected Gift
"Lady Liara! How pleased we are that you could come. We were beginning to fear that you never would."
At the Baroness' words, I looked up from my tea glass to see Liara standing under the spectacularly carved door of the Baroness' parlor. Her reply was lost in the murmuring of many voices, but the Baroness took her hand, and guided her over to the fire, her words becoming more distinct as they drew nearer.
"Oh, but I insist, my dear," she was saying. "Come! You must obey me in this. Sit down by the fire and let me fetch you a tea glass."
"You are very kind," Liara murmured. The Baroness waited to see her charge settle on one of the cushions before the fire before hurrying to the refreshment tables.
Lady Alise, Kiera, and I looked at her expectantly, fans waiving. She was dressed in a green waist, with a beige skirt embroidered at the hem with vines the same green as the waist. A tiny gold and emerald pendant swung on her neck.
Liara addressed us all charmingly. "Greetings, Lady Alise. Lady Kiera. Lady Claudi."
She smiled. "I would curtsey in the appropriate manner, but I fear that our hostess would not look kindly on the dismissal of her orders."
"We are glad to see you so well recovered," I said. I picked up my fan, hesitated, but circled it in the gesture of Wondrous Occurrence, at the last moment bringing the fan down in Happiness, softening the blow.
Liara's face revealed nothing, but while Lady Alise talked she whirled her fan in the gesture of Appreciation, then Understanding. I smiled and nodded, though while I sipped my tea I wondered uneasily if her sudden appearance after her claim to have been ill was any indication of her character. Was she to be trusted, or were Mama's words all too true?
But she smiled and chatted pleasantly, graciously accepting the glass of tea that the Baroness' pressed into her hands. Baroness Fionara sat down on the cushion beside her, scooting her rose-pink skirts out of the way, and began plying her with questions about the journey from Tlanth. Were the roads conducive for traveling? she wished to know. Did she witness any extraordinary performances in music or dance at the inns along the way? (For during the winter, bards and traveling bands often signed on as temporary residents at the more prosperous inns, promising performances in exchange for shelter.)
Mama was sitting at the other side of the parlor, conversing with two countesses who held property in the South like us. Reaching for her tea glass, she saw me sitting with Liara, and bringing her fan up to her face, very slightly raised her eyebrows.
When the Baroness at last stood up, and made her way to another group of guests, Alise leaned forward, her fan languidly waiving in the mode of Confidential Invitation, and said, "We had hoped, Lady Liara, that you had decided which costume you prefer for the ball. More matters on you than the beginning of the ball."
Liara spread her hands in acknowledgment of the compliment. "I would not be so bold as to choose. Night, Dawn, Afternoon-arrange it as you will; it makes no difference to me. However I fit into your plans best, that will please."
"Let us ask Lady Margari," Alise suggested. "Perhaps you did not know, but she is designing the gowns. Her sketches might aid in settling your mind."
"Or befuddle it," Liara said. "I have heard much of Lady Margari's skill. I fear that seeing all of her drawings will only confuse me more."
Whatever one might suspect of her long absence from Court, there was no doubting that she knew how to please.
"You need not fear," I said, smiling. "We are with you in all things." I fluttered my fan in gesture of Impossible Feat, then jabbed it upwards in Victory, ending in a position of query, which earned appreciative laughter from all.
"Steel your mind to the task," I encouraged, laughing.
Our hostess walked to the center of the parlor, then, announced that a poet-reader from Erev-li-Erval would entertain us with Okanni, a cycle of poems joined by one theme. Two servants in blue and gray tunics moved a stool into the center, followed by a small man with a snub nose and bright blue eyes, very startling eyes. He perched himself on the stool, clasped his hands in his lap, looking down while everyone hustled to arrange themselves on the cushions which the servants now led us to.
In the bustle, I found myself behind Liara; and taking advantage of the noise, I leaned forward, tapping her shoulder lightly with my fan. Startled, she turned around, but smiled.
"Have you become such a courtier so quickly?" I said quietly, teasingly. "I should have hoped that you are hardier than us, coming from the mountains of Tlanth, and do not find decisions so wearying."
"Ah, yes," she said, smiling. "The infamous legend of Court: where no one need ever make a greater decision than whether to wear diamonds in the hair or rubies on the toes. The public's opinion of Court has not changed greatly since the days of Galdran the Greedy; as a reader of history, you know how slowly change comes about."
"There are stories about the more despicable decisions," I said, "involving courtiers grappling for power. For example, whether someone is telling the truth or not. But we at Court at least know that that is not the case." I meant to keep my tone light, but she looked at me quickly, frowning.
At her side, her hand moved slightly, positioning her fan in the mode of Friends. Slowly, she angled it into the query mode.
I nodded, and the worried expression in her eyes faded away. It was ridiculous And I for one, I told myself, as I turned and arranged my skirts around me, was not going to allow doubt and suspicion to ruin a friendship.
The light of the glowglobes began to fade into rosy pools of light that spilled onto the carpet, flickering on the intricate designs of red, green, and black; and, looking up, the reader began to speak, very softly, in a hushing, whispering voice. It was a poem about the wind, rushing over the river, on a night just before spring would dawn. The reader was a skillful one; with his gentle, soft voice, roughened with just a hint of hoarseness, he captivated his audience; the lords and ladies sat still, fans barely flicking.
Liara was smiling in genuine pleasure, the corners of her mouth verging on a smile, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She hovered on her cushion as though she were not used to containing her emotions before such a large gathering. The other lords and ladies sat and listened like children learning their poetry from a tutor; she was living it.
There were some things, I realized then, that I believed very deeply ought to be kept free of the grasp for power that seemed to dominate Court; mistrust of other's intentions ought not to spoil them. One of these was love, and the other friendship.
Liara did not refer to the incident of the morning again, but she did suggest as we walked back to the Residence that we meet in the library the next day, either in the at noon or the evening. This time, it was her fan that whirled in the gesture of Confidential Invitation. I agreed. She illustrated one word only with her fan: Trust.
When Mama and I reached our hall, she offered to share hot chocolate with me, but I refused, for I did not want to hear any lectures on the advantages and disadvantages of befriending Liara Astiar. Bidding her good- night, I retreated into my rooms.
And discovered something lying on the little table in the parlor where invitations and letters usually waited.
I moved closer, and looked down at a long, rectangular package, bound in blue linen. There were several letters under the package, but I did not look at them.
Setting aside my gloves, I picked up the package, pressing my fingers along the edges, and discovered to my delight that it was a book.
A book? From whom? I had not ordered one. Eagerly, I unfolded the linen and slipped the book out into my hands. It was covered with dark brown leather, and tooled with an elaborate sign on the front, quite thick in my hands. I opened it, turning over the first stiff pages until I found the title page. In large script, it read: The Pirate Wars, as recorded by msrs. Alcan and Jorled Hanor, on commission by his Majesty, the King. For no reason, I looked up, scanning the room. The Pirate Wars? But I-just this morning I had-
I turned the book over, and sure enough, in the bottom corner, was the sigil of the Fellowship of the Tower: the tower, cupped in two hands, against the rising sun.
Well, I had to think about that. I sat down, belatedly realizing that even though the gift did not excite feelings of pleasure or gratitude, I still held it. I picked up the book again, turning it over this way and that. I will not deny that I felt the tiniest bit of a thrill in thinking that Derric had sent it, had remembered out talk. But this was all so baffling. Why, when he never showed any interest in me?
Was there a note? Perhaps that would explain.
I found it in the very back of the book, tucked securely into the binding. One line only.
If you read it, and find it interesting, have you any suggestion as to how to convince Hyken that history is not agonizingly dull?
I did not know what to think. Did he want my advice? But was this not only a mere gallant gesture? It was not unlike him, or many of the lords at Court. If I had expressed an interest in the book, then why shouldn't he, as a considerate gentlemen, lend it to me? Oh, why couldn't this mean something! I sighed, reading the line over again. Tomorrow, maybe, I would write a reply. I feared that now I would betray myself in some way if I committed words to paper.
Right now, I set the note on my desk, away from sight under the blotter, and picking up the book, began to read.
A/N: Okay, okay. I know that Claudi's discovery of the book is like-very like--- Mel's finding of the ring. All I can say is. history repeats itself.
There is going to be a lot of fan language in this chapter.
Chapter 5: Tea at the Baroness' and an Unexpected Gift
"Lady Liara! How pleased we are that you could come. We were beginning to fear that you never would."
At the Baroness' words, I looked up from my tea glass to see Liara standing under the spectacularly carved door of the Baroness' parlor. Her reply was lost in the murmuring of many voices, but the Baroness took her hand, and guided her over to the fire, her words becoming more distinct as they drew nearer.
"Oh, but I insist, my dear," she was saying. "Come! You must obey me in this. Sit down by the fire and let me fetch you a tea glass."
"You are very kind," Liara murmured. The Baroness waited to see her charge settle on one of the cushions before the fire before hurrying to the refreshment tables.
Lady Alise, Kiera, and I looked at her expectantly, fans waiving. She was dressed in a green waist, with a beige skirt embroidered at the hem with vines the same green as the waist. A tiny gold and emerald pendant swung on her neck.
Liara addressed us all charmingly. "Greetings, Lady Alise. Lady Kiera. Lady Claudi."
She smiled. "I would curtsey in the appropriate manner, but I fear that our hostess would not look kindly on the dismissal of her orders."
"We are glad to see you so well recovered," I said. I picked up my fan, hesitated, but circled it in the gesture of Wondrous Occurrence, at the last moment bringing the fan down in Happiness, softening the blow.
Liara's face revealed nothing, but while Lady Alise talked she whirled her fan in the gesture of Appreciation, then Understanding. I smiled and nodded, though while I sipped my tea I wondered uneasily if her sudden appearance after her claim to have been ill was any indication of her character. Was she to be trusted, or were Mama's words all too true?
But she smiled and chatted pleasantly, graciously accepting the glass of tea that the Baroness' pressed into her hands. Baroness Fionara sat down on the cushion beside her, scooting her rose-pink skirts out of the way, and began plying her with questions about the journey from Tlanth. Were the roads conducive for traveling? she wished to know. Did she witness any extraordinary performances in music or dance at the inns along the way? (For during the winter, bards and traveling bands often signed on as temporary residents at the more prosperous inns, promising performances in exchange for shelter.)
Mama was sitting at the other side of the parlor, conversing with two countesses who held property in the South like us. Reaching for her tea glass, she saw me sitting with Liara, and bringing her fan up to her face, very slightly raised her eyebrows.
When the Baroness at last stood up, and made her way to another group of guests, Alise leaned forward, her fan languidly waiving in the mode of Confidential Invitation, and said, "We had hoped, Lady Liara, that you had decided which costume you prefer for the ball. More matters on you than the beginning of the ball."
Liara spread her hands in acknowledgment of the compliment. "I would not be so bold as to choose. Night, Dawn, Afternoon-arrange it as you will; it makes no difference to me. However I fit into your plans best, that will please."
"Let us ask Lady Margari," Alise suggested. "Perhaps you did not know, but she is designing the gowns. Her sketches might aid in settling your mind."
"Or befuddle it," Liara said. "I have heard much of Lady Margari's skill. I fear that seeing all of her drawings will only confuse me more."
Whatever one might suspect of her long absence from Court, there was no doubting that she knew how to please.
"You need not fear," I said, smiling. "We are with you in all things." I fluttered my fan in gesture of Impossible Feat, then jabbed it upwards in Victory, ending in a position of query, which earned appreciative laughter from all.
"Steel your mind to the task," I encouraged, laughing.
Our hostess walked to the center of the parlor, then, announced that a poet-reader from Erev-li-Erval would entertain us with Okanni, a cycle of poems joined by one theme. Two servants in blue and gray tunics moved a stool into the center, followed by a small man with a snub nose and bright blue eyes, very startling eyes. He perched himself on the stool, clasped his hands in his lap, looking down while everyone hustled to arrange themselves on the cushions which the servants now led us to.
In the bustle, I found myself behind Liara; and taking advantage of the noise, I leaned forward, tapping her shoulder lightly with my fan. Startled, she turned around, but smiled.
"Have you become such a courtier so quickly?" I said quietly, teasingly. "I should have hoped that you are hardier than us, coming from the mountains of Tlanth, and do not find decisions so wearying."
"Ah, yes," she said, smiling. "The infamous legend of Court: where no one need ever make a greater decision than whether to wear diamonds in the hair or rubies on the toes. The public's opinion of Court has not changed greatly since the days of Galdran the Greedy; as a reader of history, you know how slowly change comes about."
"There are stories about the more despicable decisions," I said, "involving courtiers grappling for power. For example, whether someone is telling the truth or not. But we at Court at least know that that is not the case." I meant to keep my tone light, but she looked at me quickly, frowning.
At her side, her hand moved slightly, positioning her fan in the mode of Friends. Slowly, she angled it into the query mode.
I nodded, and the worried expression in her eyes faded away. It was ridiculous And I for one, I told myself, as I turned and arranged my skirts around me, was not going to allow doubt and suspicion to ruin a friendship.
The light of the glowglobes began to fade into rosy pools of light that spilled onto the carpet, flickering on the intricate designs of red, green, and black; and, looking up, the reader began to speak, very softly, in a hushing, whispering voice. It was a poem about the wind, rushing over the river, on a night just before spring would dawn. The reader was a skillful one; with his gentle, soft voice, roughened with just a hint of hoarseness, he captivated his audience; the lords and ladies sat still, fans barely flicking.
Liara was smiling in genuine pleasure, the corners of her mouth verging on a smile, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She hovered on her cushion as though she were not used to containing her emotions before such a large gathering. The other lords and ladies sat and listened like children learning their poetry from a tutor; she was living it.
There were some things, I realized then, that I believed very deeply ought to be kept free of the grasp for power that seemed to dominate Court; mistrust of other's intentions ought not to spoil them. One of these was love, and the other friendship.
Liara did not refer to the incident of the morning again, but she did suggest as we walked back to the Residence that we meet in the library the next day, either in the at noon or the evening. This time, it was her fan that whirled in the gesture of Confidential Invitation. I agreed. She illustrated one word only with her fan: Trust.
When Mama and I reached our hall, she offered to share hot chocolate with me, but I refused, for I did not want to hear any lectures on the advantages and disadvantages of befriending Liara Astiar. Bidding her good- night, I retreated into my rooms.
And discovered something lying on the little table in the parlor where invitations and letters usually waited.
I moved closer, and looked down at a long, rectangular package, bound in blue linen. There were several letters under the package, but I did not look at them.
Setting aside my gloves, I picked up the package, pressing my fingers along the edges, and discovered to my delight that it was a book.
A book? From whom? I had not ordered one. Eagerly, I unfolded the linen and slipped the book out into my hands. It was covered with dark brown leather, and tooled with an elaborate sign on the front, quite thick in my hands. I opened it, turning over the first stiff pages until I found the title page. In large script, it read: The Pirate Wars, as recorded by msrs. Alcan and Jorled Hanor, on commission by his Majesty, the King. For no reason, I looked up, scanning the room. The Pirate Wars? But I-just this morning I had-
I turned the book over, and sure enough, in the bottom corner, was the sigil of the Fellowship of the Tower: the tower, cupped in two hands, against the rising sun.
Well, I had to think about that. I sat down, belatedly realizing that even though the gift did not excite feelings of pleasure or gratitude, I still held it. I picked up the book again, turning it over this way and that. I will not deny that I felt the tiniest bit of a thrill in thinking that Derric had sent it, had remembered out talk. But this was all so baffling. Why, when he never showed any interest in me?
Was there a note? Perhaps that would explain.
I found it in the very back of the book, tucked securely into the binding. One line only.
If you read it, and find it interesting, have you any suggestion as to how to convince Hyken that history is not agonizingly dull?
I did not know what to think. Did he want my advice? But was this not only a mere gallant gesture? It was not unlike him, or many of the lords at Court. If I had expressed an interest in the book, then why shouldn't he, as a considerate gentlemen, lend it to me? Oh, why couldn't this mean something! I sighed, reading the line over again. Tomorrow, maybe, I would write a reply. I feared that now I would betray myself in some way if I committed words to paper.
Right now, I set the note on my desk, away from sight under the blotter, and picking up the book, began to read.
A/N: Okay, okay. I know that Claudi's discovery of the book is like-very like--- Mel's finding of the ring. All I can say is. history repeats itself.