Umbar had a nightlife of its own, and the guards at the gates of the Great Towers were even more vigilant. And especially so at Seaward, after the recent invasion and theft of the Lord's property. Double the normal number of hard-eyed men patrolled the grounds and stood watch at the gates in the flaring light of the lanterns.
Lominzil crouched in the gutter and pinched his lips together. The gate was impossible. Cautiously, he glanced along the street, and then stood up and shambled along towards the inner parts of the city. When he was out of sight once more, he stopped and tried to hold his breath to listen. He couldn't hear anything save the roaring of his blood in his ears; couldn't see anything but the moving shadows of the guards. He didn't think there was anyone behind him... he glanced over his shoulder, and saw nothing.
Why wasn't sneaking around strange cities in the dark taught to all squires as part of their training for knighthood, he thought, his emotions a complex swirl of terror, exhilaration and despair. But as he clearly couldn't sneak into the Seaward Tower grounds, he decided to explore the city a little more. They still needed a way to get out without being caught.
His hand was sweaty where it clenched the dagger under his ragged robe. There were real thieves out at night; real beggars who would stab him in the back for a crust of bread... A pebble shifted, and his stomach leapt into his mouth. He could hear his own breath, harsh and swift, as he whirled around. But there was nothing there.
After a long moment, he continued down the street, slipping sideways into an alley. Half-way along it was a stone he'd noticed earlier in the week. It looked odd, and he squatted down beside it, looking over his shoulder once more, before shifting the knife to where he could reach it easily and feeling at the edges of the rock. It was grooved. Lominzil dug his fingers into the gritty holes and leaned back, straining with all his might. His muscles quivered, but it was coming up... His fingers slipped, and he let it drop, cursing silently.
But in that brief moment, he'd gotten a whiff of cool, fetid air. The sewers! he thought, something leaping inside him. He stood and paced back and forth, thinking feverishly. They could get in - but where did it come out? Somewhere outside the city, surely. He didn't dare climb down there now; with no way to pull the stone shut after him, and no way of knowing if he could ever get it open again from below. But if he and Fari...
Someone spoke behind him, a single harsh word.
For an instant, Lominzil froze, half-turning towards the voice before he remembered he was deaf. Ice prickled along his skin as he forced himself to continue walking up and down as if he had heard nothing; gripping the dagger under his clothes until his hand ached.
Unexpectedly, the man laughed and said something else. He came around in front of Lominzil, reaching out to take Lominzil's chin in his hand and turn his face to the feeble light of the stars.
The Gondorian caught a glint of light sliding along a blade in the man's other hand, and said nothing, only lifted his empty hand palm up, and tried to smile his beggar's smile. Vacant, meaningless, foolish. Meaningless wasn't hard; he had no idea what the man was saying. Vacant was more difficult.
The man spoke again, and let his hand drop and stared up from hard black eyes. He stepped closer and lowered his voice, and Lominzil caught a single word. "...Vain?"
-Seaward Tower Gardens-
There is a small pond here - it is not the larger one that the heron no doubt prefers, but Farielle won't go there - this one is only one step above tiny. An exquisite trickle of water falls from a rock into it, and ruffles the surface. And a black heron stands in the water looking, if birds can, disgruntled. Farielle sits nearby, her back to the pond.
Making her way up the garden path is a strange sight indeed, a Priestess of the Eye decked out head to toe in black and white. Clearly feeling a little bit self-concious, S'aria walks a little bit faster than usual, clutching a long white cloak about her slender form, as if she is naked beneath. Instead, she is merely wearing a pair of trouser, but it seems from the way the girl's fingers trace to the edge of the garments that the Easterling is not used to such an innovation in her clothing. Regardless, she moves with purpose, her long braided hair trailing out behind her, pausing momentarily to glance towards the pound as she spots Farielle sitting there.
The Gondorian glances up briefly at the sound of footsteps, and then looks away. She is not so withdrawn as last time S'aria saw her, but neither could she be described in any way as outgoing or cheerful.
The Easterling looks at Farielle for a moment before she moves to head over in that direction, a smirk twisting onto the young girl's features. "Greetings, Lady Farielle," calls out the girl as she makes her way through the garden towards the Gondorian woman. "What do you think of my outfit? Lady Eruphel helped me pick it out... she told me I should try pants for a change." Tugging at the side of her trousers a little bit, S'aria comes to a stop at the edge of the pool, leaning to the side uneasily. Her dark eyes flicker down to her features, "I know the Haradim women wear trousers all the time, but I still feel like a bloody boy...", demurs the Priestess.
Farielle doesn't look up. "It is very nice," she answers, expressionlessly. The bird spreads its wings as S'aria comes to close and hisses. It is a large bird, almost waist-high on a short person, and has a wickedly long beak.
S'aria takes a step back away from the bird, eyeing it carefully. She does not want to get her new clothing full of holes and that beak looks sharp. Seeming to relax a little bit, the girl folds her arms in front of her chest, glancing over to Farielle now. "So... how are you adjusting?", she tries weakly. "Has... Sir Alkhaszor been treating you well?"
"Sir Alkhaszor despises me," is Farielle's unemotional response. She fixes her attention on a bush nearby. The heron lowers its wings, but remains watchful, cocking its head so that bright black eyes are fixed on S'aria.
"I imagine he does... he sounds quite devoted to his late wife," remarks the girl with a frown as she crouches down near Farielle. She gives the bird a playful grin, tilting her head to the side as she extends a hand out, to see if the creature is willing to approach or not. "You know... I still want to help you if you will let me. There is still a lot that can be done to make your stay here more... manageable," she says, her words softening a bit. She turns to look at Farielle briefly, her braid sliding over one shoulder. "You know... if you want to chew me out over what happened, you can. I totally deserve it..."
The heron jabs suddenly at S'aria's hand.
"Thank you. I have had sufficient of your 'help'. I do not wish for any more." There is nothing in Farielle's voice. No hatred, no fear, nothing. She could be talking politely about the weather by her tone. And she entirely ignores the girl's final words.
A wince flickers across the young Priestess' face as the bird catches the tip of her finger before she can retract it. Luckily for her, no blood is let, but she gives the hand a shake before popping the finger in her mouth. "Vicious thing...", she mumbles before pushing to her feet. "Come on... You did not even let me help you. What, you think I thought marrying you to Sir Alkhaszor was a favor? Lord Alphros could have proclaimed you married himself by the law, or just have fetched another Priestess...", she says taking a few steps towards the other girl, hands resting on her hips.
"I do not know what you thought," Farielle replies, disinterestedly. "And you made no attempts to help me. I wish no favors from Him or his servants. What do you think you could do that would aid me now?"
The heron withdraws, tilting its head the other way as S'aria stands, still watching her intently.
"Well, I am what I am... and I am not ashamed about that," says the Priestess decked out in enough white to almost make that an ironic statement. "I can help you adapt here? Learn the language, use the political system to your advantage? If you are savy enough there is no saying what you can accomplish," the girl explains as she crosses her arms, her dark eyes flickering with thought. "Start small, and then you can think bigger. What is the thing you want most right now? A divorce? You know you can make that happen... if you play your cards correctly, right?", offers the black-hared Easterling by way of parlay. She turns her head to the Heron and makes a face at it while she awaits Farielle's reply.
Farielle turns her head, and listens. And shakes it. "I will accept no aid from him or his servants," she repeats. "Once I was fool enough to believe that perhaps your desire for friendship was true. I will not make that mistake again. If you could this moment by some dark powers waft me home, I would not accept." There is something behind her gaze, hidden in opacity.
A glint of threatening tears appears in the Easterling's gaze, but she holds it back. "Then do not accept it until I prove otherwise. I am a human just like you are... can I not act as a human? Do you think they have carved out my innards? Remember, I told you what was going to happen before it did! Why would I do that if I did not want to help you?" She looks down at her hands, "I... can help you arange to see the High Priestess. She can annul the marriage. There was several irregularities that violated the Law. You have a very strong case if you are willing to act upon what you want." She sighs softly, lifting a hand to her head, "Look... I have been trying here... to find a place outside of the Church. That... is what happened... I lost sight of your friendship... That doesn't mean it never meant anything to me... It still does. I want it so bad for some reason," she tries to confess, but it is clearly something the Dark Priestess is not used to.
"You did not tell me this would happen," Farielle points out quietly, but not ungently. "And there is a difference between doing something because you must, or because you find it your only path towards a desired goal; and in rejoicing in - in the distress of another." She looks back to the shrub, her voice having faltered for a tiny moment before she steadies it.
"I cannot accept. I wish you joy in your search." The words have the ring of finality, though she has not entirely rejected S'aria's renewed protestations of a desire for friendship. Neither has she accepted them.
S'aria is nothing if not stubborn. Many would have lost patience after all several conversations ago with the Gondorian lady. Her thin eyebrows furrow, "Remember? I told you he would spirit you away to marry you against your will. Sure, I thought /he/ would marry you. But I was right about the important part right? You would be miserable with either of them..." And then S'aria does something she has not done before with Farielle, and she steps forward moving into Farielle's field of vision, a white of her cloth fluttering in the wind. She tries to look into the other woman's eyes, her own pleading. "How long are you just going to sit here? How well did that work out last time? I am not asking you to forgive me or accept me unconditionally. I am just saying... let's give trying to /do/ something a chance. There are no Knights in this city that are going to come rescue you. It's up to you and me if you want to be anything more than just a puppet for other people to toy with."
A faint smile flickers over Farielle's face, gone so swiftly it may never have been. "No," she repeats musingly. "There are no Knights in this city." Strangely, perhaps, that thought seems to please her.
She does look up now, meeting S'aria's eyes. Her own are - walled. There is no expression to be seen there; no hint of her thoughts. "How would getting my marriage annulled make my life better?" she asks politely. "It would serve only to anger Lord Alphros, and no doubt, Alkhaszor as well. For all your fine words of being more than a puppet, I am yet in their power."
"Last I checked, you did not want them on your side. You could even ask the High Priestess for sanctuary but that would involve you going to the Dark citadel," explains the Easterling, her own eyes flickering with thought. She sits down in the grass in front of Farielle cross-legged, her expression emphatic. "What you need to start doing is using their enemies against them. The Church is one. So is Desert Tower. You are not going to get those people to take you to gondor. But if you are politically savvy enough you can break Alphros' control over you. If you are thorny enough, he will give up on trying to keep you under control. And when that happens you will be able to leave if you have established the right connections. I am sure for enough money you could get a corsair to sail you to the harbor."
Farielle listens courteously though she gives no indication as to her thoughts. "Desert Tower will do nothing openly against Alphros," she says. "For that would bring Lady Azradi's wrath upon them. Lady Eruphel as well, I expect."
"Not unless you give them just cause. If Alphros is trying to punish you for the ruling of the High Priestess then you have just cause," explains S'aria to the Gondorian. "Desert Tower is loyal to the Church and eager to prove Alphros is a heretic secretly. It would be perfect justification for them to take action. And Lady Azardi would be less eager to respond with force if it would seem like she was questioning a High Priestess' ruling overtly."
"But I have only your word that your high priestess would do this," Farielle points out, still politely. "You will understand, I am sure, that I find it difficult to trust." She rises gracefully. "Excuse me. I don't wish to be late." With a well-bred nod of her head, she turns to leave; the bird stalking from its pool to follow her. Two guardsmen detach themselves from trees a little ways away, and flank her down the path.
"You will have to make your case to her. But as I said, you have a solid argument on more than one front for it to be anulled. That no blood was used is the biggest violation," explains the girl before the guards approach and she seems to get a little bit more worried about being exposed. With a sigh she pushes to her feet, a lopsided frown on her face as she watches the woman move to go, scratching the side of her head, and scattering a few dark strands of hair. "Stubborn one... would help if I had not messed up so bad earlier," murmurs the girl under her beath before she heaves a sigh and turns to make her way into the Tower through another way.
Farielle hurried into the tower and up to her room. She didn't want to go in yet; sitting in the garden was the nearest she could get to privacy. But neither did she want to listen to S'aria any longer. She wanted to think.
The most important thing was how to get out of the tower. She had no idea how to get out of the city, or what to do after that. She would have to trust Lominzil for that. But he could do nothing if she could not even escape the tower. And with the guards following her every where, Farielle didn't know how to do that.
If only she could talk to him somehow, so that they could plan. Her steps slowed as she went up the stairs and she frowned in thought. She had deliberately forced herself not to seek for him, but to go randomly among the beggars. If she drew attention to him and he was caught - she felt sick at the thought.
She wondered if it might be safe to slip a bit of paper back to him when she saw him next and gave him a coin as she did all the others. But how to do it? She couldn't drop it into his bowl - it would be seen. If he held out his hand, perhaps... She made up her mind, suddenly. She would have to take the chance. Now if she could only write something without those maids noticing.
Farielle stopped as she came to her door, and said to the guard who stood outside, "I would like a screen brought, please. To put beside my bed." She waited until he nodded in acknowledgement, then went inside.