Chapter Summary: Nott says they need work and sanctuary; the Ruby misunderstands.

Chapter Seven:
In The Lavish Chateau (ft. Jester)

The Lavish Chateau had, in its time, been host to many strange guests. They turned away no races, no class or clan, though they did insist on a certain level of respect and decorum. Enforcing that decorum was Blude, though he generally took care of indiscretions out of view. Which was why Marion was surprised when, just before dawn, he knocked on her door. "My lady, do you have a moment? There are visitors downstairs, and I'm not sure what to do with them."

Marion set down the comb she'd been drawing through her hair. "Clients?" she asked, because it was unusual for Blude to approach her about that side of the business.

He clarified. "More like...asylum seekers."

"Oh," said Marion with understanding. That did happen from time to time. Some came from others, less savory forms of sex work. Others were fleeing abusive spouses. A few merely sought excitement. Marion had taken on a handful, but most she turned away. The Lavish Chateau was a safe place, and she didn't take that responsibility lightly. Those who threatened or cheapened it were better off elsewhere.

Wrapping a shift around her, she slipped her feet into silken slippers, and Blude took her arm like the gentleman he was. Halfway down the stairs, she noticed the furrows between the protruding horns of his head. It was uncharacteristic. Blude was so reserved, it was strange to see him so openly troubled.

"What is it, my friend?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Perhaps it's best I do not speak," he said. "I may be biased about this situation, and I don't want to sway you."

Intriguing. Part of Marion wanted to press, but perhaps it was better to do as he requested.

He led her to the common room, a private space where the staff socialized outside of business hours. Supplicants wouldn't ordinarily be brought here, though it seemed these weren't typical supplicants. Conversations quieted when she made her appearance, and Marion exchanged smiles and 'good mornings'. Of course, she couldn't help but notice the preoccupation in the room. Eyes kept drifting. There were whispers. Was this all because of the guests Blude spoke of?

Nestled around a low table with cushions, Marion saw them – two figures, one small and swathed in bandages, the other a lithe young man in a ratty coat. The man looked up at her, and Marion's breath caught. His eyes were a pure, unadulterated blue. She was transfixed by the clarity of them, the openness. The other figure stood when she saw Marion, and, in a high, rasping voice, asked, "Is this her?"

Blude introduced them. "This is Lady Lavorre, the Ruby of the Sea. My lady, these two came barreling into the kitchens near closing time. There was quite a lot of commotion. However, they had some interesting things to say when we caught them, and this one begged to see you."

Marion examined this guest who had come in like a falling star and apparently caused so much chaos before pleading for an audience. She was as small as a child, or perhaps a halfling or gnome, though it was difficult to tell because her features were obscured. Marion knelt, seeking the face inside the hood. She found eyes too large for a pale green face, and – peeking out from thin lips – a set of very pointy teeth. Marion gasped.

The goblin whined, recoiling. Her lantern-like eyes were wet with tears.

Perhaps it was the tears, but something about her moved Marion. She extended her hand. "My name is Marion. Can you tell me what brings you to The Lavish Chateau?"

The hand that gripped hers was strange, small but rough and strangely strong. Marion could feel the claws touch the back of her hand, but they were a whisper only. "I'm Nott," the goblin said. "Nott the brave."

There was a chuckle from the room, but Blude silenced it with a look. "Well, Nott the brave," Marion said. "Why is it that you're here, asking for an audience of me?"

"We just got into town from the Dwendalian Empire," Nott said, "We didn't have much coin, so I took a job from a man named Le Marc. It was just a little job. Simple. But I messed it up, and that made him angry."

"Were you being chased tonight?"

"Yes. We've been hiding for a few days, but we got hungry. Caleb isn't very good at being sneaky. He tries, he really does, but we were spotted. I was sure they were going to throw us into the harbor or drag us back to Le Marc, and my Caleb..." She trailed off, choked by emotion. "We came here because I was desperate. People say it's a good place. They say, if you ask, sometimes The Ruby will hire you."

The Lavish Chateau was a good place. It was Marion's personal sanctuary. Many had found security within its walls, especially those who needed walls to keep the world at bay. Marion considered. Did she want to entertain this idea? She supposed it wouldn't hurt to at least take a look.

"Well, let me see him then," she said, gesturing for the young man to stand. He did so, though he wore a bemused expression as she looked him over from heel to crown. What she saw was a human not much out of his twenties, his features muted by a general lack of cleanliness. However, the dirt on his face did nothing to hide his cheekbones or the dusting of freckles. Under the light, his hair gave off enticing flashes of copper, as though it might shine when scrubbed clean. And those eyes. They gazed at her now, utterly guileless, and when she touched his chin, he moved with her, pliant and receptive. In all, he was full of potential and likely to be even more so after a few weeks of good meals and a bath. Marion smiled at him. "Caleb, was it?"

He smiled hesitantly back, and her heart fluttered. Oh, yes, this one would have no trouble drawing attention. She turned to the goblin, Nott. "Very well. If he'd like to be installed here, I can see to it that he starts training."

Marion was surprised when, instead of relief, horror bloomed on Nott's face. "What? No!" She took Caleb by the hand and yanked him behind her. "No, no, no. You don't understand at all. I'm the one who needs the work."

Marion didn't want to be unkind, but she had to be honest. "My dear, without meaning any slight to you personally, there aren't many guests who'd be interested in spending the evening with a goblin, even one so lovely as you."

A flare in those golden eyes. The snarling abruptly stopped. "Lovely? Me?"

Marion's heart broke slightly at this proof of internal doubt. Though so many praised her beauty now, she knew what it was like to feel inherently ugly and unloved. 'Jester will never feel that way,' she promised herself, just as she had every night since the baby's indigo ringlets had first curled around her fingers like perfect crescent moons. To Nott, Marion said gently, "I can see your inner beauty well enough, though you're trying so hard to cover it with those heavy clothes. Still, you must understand when I tell you that you could not be an escort here."

Nott hesitated, then slowly drew down her hood, revealing a long, tangled thatch of hair, gnarled like seaweed. She scrubbed her cheeks, which were flushed, but her expression was determined rather than sad. "I know. I don't want to do that anyway." She glanced at Caleb, whose was still silent. His long, thin fingers danced in front of him as though he wanted to hold on but wasn't sure if it was allowed. "As for my Caleb, he can't. I know he looks grown, but..." Her voice cracked. "Show them, Caleb."

Caleb showed reluctance for the first time. Nonetheless, he allowed Nott to draw him into a crouch and part his hair above his ear. There, Marion saw a gnarly scar. It must have nearly cleaved his head in two, and it clearly had not received anything like a proper healing.

Grieved, Nott said, "He doesn't like anyone to see."

The pieces were beginning to fall into place, and Marion felt a sickness in her belly at what she had considered, though, of course, given the circumstances, she couldn't have known. "He's like a child."

"He's not stupid," Nott said with heat. "He's very smart. He just can't, cant…"

"It's alright," Marion cut her off. "You don't have to explain."

Nott caressed Caleb's face, and the way he looked at her was immaculate with trust. It was an exchange Marion recognized. She saw it when she tucked Jester into bed, or bandaged a splintered finger, or kissed her wrinkled forehead when she cried. It was the bond of a parent and a child, and as one single mother to another, Marion knew she had to do something. The Chateau was a place she could keep her daughter in safety. It would be that for Nott, too. She would see to it.

"What kind of work do you do, Nott?"

It was an amazing thing, hope. It went through Nott like gunpowder, and she dashed her claws with eagerness. "I have quick hands, and I'm really strong for my size. I can sneak and fight."

'Oh dear,' Marion thought, but thankfully Blude stepped forward. "I can always use someone with a strong mind and hands, provided you're not shy of hard work."

Nott stood to her full height, which at four feet didn't even scrape the minotaur's belt. "I'm a very hard worker."

Blude looked to Marion, who smiled. "It seems it's settled."

"And what about him?" asked Lyma, one of the girls. She sashayed up to Caleb and thumbed his cheek.

Nott rounded on her quickly. "No one puts their hands on him or I'll rip out your liver and eat it for breakfast."

There was a general uproar, but Marion waved her hand. "Enough, all of you. Nott, first of all, you should know that this establishment has the utmost respect for the autonomy of others, and none of us would dream of imposing upon someone who couldn't give their consent. Lyma knows that very well, don't you Lyma?"

Lyma pouted. "I was just teasing."

"Better to save it for someone who can appreciate it," Marion admonished, and to Lyma's credit, she accepted it with good grace. That taken care of, Marion turned back to Nott. "The point is this. Your Caleb will be safe here. No one who lives in this building will harm him, and those who enter won't be permitted to do so either. Do you believe me?"

Nott looked close to crying again, and Marion knew that exhausted expression well. It was the feeling of a ship finally coming into port after a long journey in very rough seas. Marion extended her hand, this time to Caleb.

"As for you, my dear, I have something special to show you."

Caleb hesitated, and in that moment Marian was acutely aware of his woundedness. The wheels were turning – but slowly, much more slowly than they were ever intended to. In the end, he looked to Nott for guidance. "It's okay, Caleb," she said. "I'll come too."

Caleb let Marion take hold of him. His hand was rough, marked with the callouses of a very full life, and Marion felt a pang of loss on his behalf. 'I wonder who you were before,' she thought. She tucked his hand gently into her elbow and lead him toward the steps. "Goodnight, everyone."

A chorus of farewells followed her, and then it was just her, Nott, and Caleb, who walked so lightly she almost couldn't hear his footsteps. It was much too poised for a child, proof that there were remnants his injury had left behind. In difference to this, Marion patted Caleb's hand as they ascended, choosing to speak to him rather than about him.

"Caleb, I'm going to show you my greatest treasure," she said.

Nott startled, but said nothing. Caleb just gazed at her with curiosity.

"It's a secret not many know. In fact, I actively keep this knowledge from outsiders, so you'll have to be discreet." She said this with a glance toward Nott.

The girl nodded aggressively. "Of course we will."

They'd reached the topmost landing. These were not the rooms were she entertained guests, but the smaller, quieter ones where few were allowed to go. Just ahead was an oak door with an ornate copper doorknob in the shape of a dolphin. Many drawings had been added to the wood panels over the years, some crude and childlike, others skillful and elaborate. Most of the subjects were playful and full of joy: unicorns, trees, seashells. An exasperating number of them were phallic. Mariam allowed a wave of vexation to roll through her as well as fondness, then knocked on the door.

There was a shuffling inside, like someone roused from bed. A voice on the other side asked, "Mama?"

"It's me, darling. May we come in? I've brought someone to see you."

The door swung open immediately. Visitors here were rare indeed, and Marian knew poor Jester was starved for attention. Her eager face, as freckled at Caleb's, filled the entryway, and her lilac eyes glinted with excitement. She was still wearing her nightgown, which only made her more dear to Marion. "Oh, Mama!" Jester exclaimed, seeing Caleb and Nott standing there. "Who is this?"

Marion gestured, offering introductions. "Jester, these are our new acquaintances, Caleb and Nott. Caleb and Nott, this is Jester, my little sapphire."

Taking Caleb very gently by the shoulders, Marion drew him in front of her, presenting him to her lonely daughter, who had gone far too long without friends.

"Jester, I'd like you to meet your new companion."

If Jester were being totally, totally honest, she wasn't sure what to think of Caleb. He and Nott had been installed in the room beside hers, and he was supposed to stay with her when Nott wasn't around to take care of him. He was going to be her friend. A playmate, of sorts. Though that was funny, too, because neither she nor Caleb were children.

She remembered the first time Nott left to do her new job. She looked fretfully at the clock. It was a quarter to eight, opening time. "You'll be just fine, Caleb," she said, though it sounded like she was trying to reassure herself as much as him. Finally, she pulled Caleb down so she could press his bangs behind his ears and kiss his forehead. "I love you," she whispered. "I'll be just downstairs, and I'll come check on you in a few hours."

Caleb tried to follow when she moved toward the door, but Jester took his hand. "It's alright, Caleb," she said, swinging their arms. "You and me will have so much fun, you'll hardly know Nott is gone."

How much Caleb understood was up for debate, and as the door clicked shut, he twisted to get free. "Ah," he protested, reaching for the passage where Nott had disappeared.

"She'll be back," Jester promised. "Now come on. If you keep acting like you want to leave, you're going to hurt my feelings."

One of the first things Jester found out was that Caleb liked stories. If she gave him something to do with his hands – some yarn to wind around his fingers or a wooden top to spin – he would sit for hours, listening to her talk. It was kind of amazing. Jester hadn't had such an attentive audience in…well, ever. Everyone was always too busy. He also let Jester braid his hair, though his attempts to return the favor were messy at best.

"No, Caleb," she told him as he made his fourth attempt to make a plait over her ear. "Over, under. I know you remember. Are you teasing me?"

Caleb cocked his head. It was really cute when he did that, although it was also kind of sad. Nott said Caleb had been really, really smart. Like, a genius. He always knew which way was north, and he never forgot what he read in books, and he spoke, like, a lot of languages. Oh, and according to Nott he had this really nice voice, with an accent and everything.

Caleb didn't talk anymore, so she didn't know how his voice sounded. He still liked books, but mostly this manifested in him flipped through them with an aching, uncomprehending expression on his face. He also had terrific nightmares, ones that woke him up, sobbing inconsolably. He only slept when Nott was around, which seemed to sooth him, but Jester could still hear them though the walls sometimes; Caleb's crying and Nott's murmuring.

In the weeks that followed, Jester found out more things about Caleb. To her delight, she discovered he was a wonderful dancer. If there was a waltz going on, she would crack open her door, and the two of them would spin around the room. Caleb was almost a different person when he danced. His face went young and soft, and when he looked at her, his lips pressed together almost like he was smiling. These were some of Jester's favorite times. It made her feel like she really did have a friend.

And! And! Caleb even shared a secret with her. She knew it was a secret because he hid it, even from Nott. He waited until they were alone and tugged Jester into the closet – which might have been weird, except Caleb didn't mean it that way. Instead, he opened his hand, revealing a bit of fleece between his fingers. He twisted it in a funny way, and then, standing on his palm was a tiny dancer. It twirled and leapt, dancing to some unheard music, and it was so beautiful Jester squealed. "Caleb, you can do magic!"

Caleb stared at the illusion with an almost fierce look of triumph, his eyes shining, and for once he didn't looked tired or lost or confused.

It wasn't their only secret.

Just once, Jester had kissed him. They were dancing, music drifting up from downstairs. His hand was pressed firmly into her side, and his gaze, usually so far away, was intent on her face in a way that made her stomach flutter with butterflies. Moved by instinct (and a little curiosity), Jester lifted herself onto her tiptoes and kissed him. Just a little kiss, hardly more than a peck at the corner of his mouth. Just to see what it felt like, you know? She was contemplating the sensation of stubble when Caleb's hands lifted to bracket her face.

"Caleb?" Jester asked. She was maybe feeling a little ashamed. Caleb wasn't stupid, but he wasn't, you know, there. So kissing him – even as a friendly experiment – was probably not okay.

She froze as his thumbs caressed her cheeks, and when he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, she closed her eyes and let it happen. Then it was done, and she was left with just the sensation of Caleb, who flickered in that bright, sharp way for just a second longer. Then he shook his head, and the misty cacophony was back in his eyes. He reached up and touched his lips, a confused pat-pat motion, and looked around like he didn't know where he was. A troubled whine came from somewhere in his throat.

"Oh, Caleb," Jester said, pulling him down so she could buss his cheeks, not in the exploratory way of before, but noisily, like Nott when she was trying to draw him out of one of the fugue states he sometimes sunk into. He came back almost immediately, blinking with bewilderment. "Oh, Caleb," she muttered again.

He didn't seem interested in dancing anymore. He wandered over to his favorite corner, where a bunch of pillows were piled up. Sitting with his legs crossed, he snapped his fingers several times, but whatever he was hoping would happen, it didn't. He gave up and started stroking one of the silky pillows instead. It always made Jester think of the way someone petted an animal. He did it often when he was at his most confused and in need of comfort, but didn't otherwise want to be touched.

"I'm going to get you a kitten or something, Caleb," Jester promised.

He didn't answer. His mind, as usual, had gone somewhere else.

Jester made good on her promise. All it took was a whispered word to one of the kitchen staff, and the very next day the woman snuck in a basket. Jester skipped all the way to her room and presented it with a flourish. "Ta-da!"

Caleb stared at the basket, but didn't move to open it.

Eager to see his reaction, she lifted the lid. "This is my 'sorry' for what happened yesterday, Caleb. We really shouldn't have done that, even if it was kind of nice. So, here you go. I call her Muffin."

Out of the folds of the blanket, Caleb drew a creamy kitten with a dusky face and the most precious little paws Jester had ever seen. She was new enough that her fur still stuck up everywhere, and her blue eyes blinked like clear marbles in the lamplight. Caleb held the animal expertly between his fingers, but remained so still he might have been made of stone.

Feeling self-conscious about her decision, Jester asked, "Don't you like her, Caleb?"

Caleb let out a long breath and drew the kitten under his chin. He closed his eyes, and when he opened then they were wet. He tapped the back of Jester's hand, and for once she knew exactly what he was trying to say: 'Thank you.'

When Nott came back near dawn, she took one look at Mittens, narrowed her eyes, and asked, "Why did you do that?"

"He keeps petting my pillow," Jester answered. It was an honest answer, even if it wasn't the whole story. "I thought it might make him happy."

She wasn't lying about that, either. Caleb was a lot of things: quiet, stubborn, occasionally content, but he was rarely happy. Yet right now he was laying on his stomach in front of her hearth, running the pads of his fingers over Muffin's nose.

Nott's eyes softened. "He had a cat once."

That was it. No other explanation, but after that, Muffin was never far from Caleb. Caleb, in turn, spent less time staring off into the distance, and even though Jester wasn't proud of herself for kissing him, she was happy about that.

It was an evening like many other evenings. Downstairs, patrons strolled or lounged or meet with courtesans. There was eating and dancing and music. Upstairs was quieter. There were no velvety draping here. This was a home. There was a fire going, and Jester could see the sheets of her bed with their hamster print and the panels of her walls with their years of sketches and flourishes of paint. Everything was cozy and familiar. However, deep in the pit of Jester's stomach, there was a restlessness that wouldn't go away.

"What do you think, Caleb?" she asked, propping a hand on her cheek. "I mean, these rooms are nice, right? And during the day, we can go pretty much anywhere we want as long as we stay inside, but don't you think we're grown up enough to have a little adventure?"

Caleb was sitting with his heels folded neatly behind him. She'd given him some paper and charcoal, and he'd been working all morning with great concentration. It just looked like scribbles to her, but Caleb was very serious about it, going over each symbol several times with a shaky hand.

"Wouldn't you rather draw some animals," she suggested. "Or maybe a poop?"

He looked up at the sound of her voice, which had gone plaintive. He reached out and patted her hand, which was his go-to method when someone was upset.

She leaned forward, squishing his cheeks. "Aw, Caleb. You're so sweet I can't even be mad at you for wasting charcoal." He went back to his paper, but Jester's mind kept wandering to the window and the grey cityscape beyond it. "I mean, I like it here, of course. This is my home, but I want to see the world, too, you know?"

"And so you shall," said a familiar voice.

Jester squealed, spinning around in her seat. "Traveler!"

"Well, isn't this interesting," the Traveler said, coming around the table in his usual flowing green robes to hover close to Caleb.

"This is Caleb," Jester explained. "He and his mom came to live with us. His mom is a goblin. Isn't that weird?"

"It's interesting," the traveler repeated. He gave Caleb a little wave, and the man looked up.

Jester was surprised. "Can he see you?" To her knowledge, no one else had ever been able to see the Traveler. In fact, for a long time, everyone assumed he was her imaginary friend. That is, until Jester cast Sacred Flame and nearly set the drawing room on fire.

The Traveler leaned, tracing Caleb's face with two slender fingers. "You have a touch of destiny, don't you, my dear?"

Caleb frowned, then went back to his scribbles.

The Traveler looked a little sad. "Great magical talent, this one. It's a shame to see it go to waste."

"Couldn't you make him better, Traveler?" Jester asked. The Traveler had taught her so many things, and he was really powerful. Surely he could heal Caleb.

"No," said the Traveler. "I can't. But…"

"But?" Jester asked hopefully.

The Traveler smiled at her in that sly way she loved so much. "You could. Perhaps someday soon."

"Oh! You promise, Traveler?"

The Traveler's presence became a kind of unseen smile that tingled Jester's spine with anticipation and just a little bit of fear. "Promise? Why, yes, I promise. After all," he said as his voice faded away. "You and your new friend have an appointment to keep. And we wouldn't want you to be late."

Author's Note: Okay, so the inspiration for this story was the idea that Marion would relate to Nott as a single mother who wants to protect her child. You could argue they both take this to an unhealthy level, but as their reasons for doing so are embedded in trauma, it's hard not to be sympathetic. Still, children have a way of creating their own worlds: rich, complex, messy ones that carry on beyond their parents purview. I was trying to capture a bit of that in this story.

Notes on Game Mechanics:
[1] Minor Illusion – There are three elements to spellcasting: verbal, somatic, and material. Liam does a fabulous job demonstrating the use of material components, narrating biting into licorice or squishing phosphorus in his hand. However, the verbal and somatic elements are important, too. If you can't speak or gesture, you can't cast certain spells. Minor Illusion doesn't have a verbal component, which is why Caleb chose it to create his little illusory dancer for Jester.