EnteraSwordswomanEnter a SwordswomanIt's been five days since May Day,and the attack upon the Duchess and by extension, Esperance itself. If she has gained information on the mysterious assailants, the Duchess has not yet seen fit to summon Esperance in order to share it yet. In the early morning, with the sun still fighting to break through and skewer once and for all the fog that has settled on the city of Riverside since before dawn, the cool wet conditions not only make rooftops slick and slippery, but even cobblestones and paving stones on the street as well. From where she breaks her fast inside of the narrow house on the lane, she can smell the cool, wet, humid air. In addition to the sense of smell, her sense of hearing is engaged as well. For Esperance soon hears a voice, male, cry out from just outside of her domicile, and a thud as said person, presumably, strikes the ground. From his position near to the table, Hugo looks alert, quickly moving from a prone to a sitting position, ready to move at the slightest encouragement from his mistress. If it weren't for Hugo's reaction, Esperance would be inclined to ignore a noise that might just be a passerby losing his balance on the slippery flagstones. As it is, she sets down her mug of tea on the small table and moves to the window. Ivy trails from a hanging planter and partly obscures her face without blocking her vision as she peers down at the street. It's quiet on the lane outside of her house at this hour of the morning, and the foggy, wet conditions press about the house and its lane like a concealing blanket. The world beyond a block or two fades away from sight, as if the tangible, defined universe ended outside of the small area around Esperance's house. With that, its easy for Esperance to spot the young man, since he is the only person on the street. With Hugo scrambling up so that he, too can look out the window beside her, Esperance sees that a man lies on the ground not far away from her door, clutching a lamppost and seeking to use it to regain a standing position. With brown hair and tradesman clothes in dark browns and black, he looks like an ordinary young man of Riverside. Possibly drunk, thinks Esperance, though it seems an odd time of day for it unless the fellow had a =really= long night. A small square parcel wrapped in brown paper and wrapped in twine, forgotten for the moment in his efforts to stand, lies on the flagstones near his feet. Through the window, Hugo watches the man with unflinching interest. Esperance lays a hand on the big dog's shaggy neck and thinks a wordless question at him. What does he find so interesting about the clumsy young man with the parcel? The corners of her mouth twitch up in a smile as she wonders if it's a package of soup bones, or something. Hugo does not answer directly, of course. However, Esperance does notice that he flickers his gaze from the man to his parcel and back again. Whether or not the package contains soup bones, the man finally rights himself, and, walking gingerly, retrieves the parcel. The man regards the wrapped parcel, and rotates it slightly. Satisfied, he puts it underneath his arm. He then looks around at the neighborhood around and then he visibly takes a deep and abiding breath before he starts walking. The young man's destination quickly becomes clear. It is the door to Esperance's home. "Hm," Esperance says to herself. "Business? Potential clients don't usually come bearing gifts, though. Well, I expect Judith will sort it out." Judith, the landlady, stout, middle-aged, and eagle-eyed, usually makes it her business to answer the front door -- the better to pick up all the best gossip. The young man reaches the door, and the stout Mrs. Bluefield does intercept the young man, just as Esperance expects. Hugo still looks alert and excited, although much less so than when he first appeared on the scene. After about five minutes, there is the sound of two pairs of footsteps toward Esperance's door. "Mistress St. Vier." Judith's voice calls cheerily from beyond the unopened door. "This young man has something he claims is for your eyes only." "Does he say who sent him?" Esperance calls back, at the same time approaching the door. Those who bargain for her services are usually nobles, though they often employ a go-between. The young man looked to her more like the latter than the former. "Well...yes." Judith says, almost defensively. "And he tells me that its some foreign client. And yet he claims its some sort of *personal* business." she huffs. Esperance's heart gives a sudden, irregular thud. Foreign client... personal... =Father?= And then as counterpoint comes the voice of the young man. It is soft and accented. Esperance does not recognize that accent, not in any function she's attended of the Duchess, or in any of the more disreputable establishments near the river. "Mistress St. Vier." he says. "It would be easier to explain my presence and why I am here if we conducted matters face to face rather than sightlessly through a door. Unless such is the custom of Riverside?" "Custom of Riverside?" Judith repeats in a piping retort. "No, of course it isn't," says Esperance, and opens the door. "Please come in." The sandy haired man gives a bow and then enters. He is dressed in relatively dark colors. Both his pants and his shirt are cut of some sort of black material. The buttons on the latter have a bright gleam of silver. The room is snug rather than palatial, and paradoxically seems both smaller and larger because of the plants. Hanging pots festoon the windows, and standing planters occupy the corners. Apart from that there is a bed, with a clothes-press at its foot; a small table with a couple of straight chairs; a modest fireplace with more comfortable chairs at either side. Judith remains on the threshold of the doorway, as if unwilling to either enter, or leave Esperance completely alone with the young man. Hugo's reaction, however, is to trot toward the young man, and looks up at him with wide, intelligent eyes. The young man returns the favor for a moment, and then looks up at Esperance. "May I be seated?" he says, hefting the parcel he still carries. "Certainly," says Esperance, waving him toward the fireplace. Hugo's reaction both interests and relaxes her; he wouldn't be so calm if the stranger meant them harm. "And then you can tell me what your business is with me," she continues pleasantly. "You don't need to stay, Judith -- it isn't as if I can't take care of myself." "All right. You know I will be just downstairs dear, in case you need me, and my hearing is very good." Judtth replies. She gives the young man one last long glance and then she departs Esperance's flat. In the meantime the young man has sat down on one of the straight chairs, balancing his parcel on his knees. Esperance doesn't sit, though she does lean on the back of the chair across from the young man, regarding him interestedly. Once the landlady is safely gone, he clears his throat. "My name is Huttner." he begins. "I was contracted to find you, on behalf of your Parent." he says. "Forgive me for my delay, I had not expected to take so long in tracking you down. I have traveled a long way to come here." He looks at her with blue eyes that, perhaps with a trick of the light, briefly look more greenish than blue. "I bear a message for you from her." He hefts the parcel. "Will you hear it?" Esperance only just stops herself from blurting =Her?=, then inwardly chides herself for her surprise. Her mother, at least, would certainly know of her existence. She's never been sure about her father. Although... "I would have expected... her... to know where I was," she says dryly. "She left me here, after all." "But yes, I'll hear the message." Huttner nods. "I am only engaged in sending the message, and given my lowly rank, know little of the counsels of those higher in the House than I, of course. I shall produce the message." He begins to unwrap the ordinary looking parcel, revealing underneath the brown is a simple wooden box. This box is jet black, and inset on its lid is a drawing that looks like a silver chess rook. Huttner opens the box without prompting, revealing a small mound of tissue paper, with something catching the light from within. Something faceted, glass or a stone of some kind. Huttner reaches a hand toward the item, and then, in sudden realization, draws his hand back as if stung by an adder. "I suspect, given your Mother's resources in creating and protecting such items." Huttner says. "that my touching the message stone would be a poor idea. It is likely that only you can touch it safely, much less receive the message." he says, in a tone of apology. Esperance looks at the stone frowningly, wondering if this is some sort of joke. "Why?" she says. "What is this 'message stone' supposed to do? If it's a token of a noble House, I don't recognize it." At the same time she glances over at Hugo to see how the dog is reacting to this object. Hugo has taken a position near to Esperance, and his head is tilted upward to where Huttner has opened the box. Intense, silent scrutiny might be seen in the dog's eyes, of Huttner, and of the mysterious glittering object in the box. Huttner for his own part looks a little surprised at Esperance's words. "Forgive me, I was unaware of your level of training and education in such matters. Her Highness has kept you isolated from such things here, it seems." Huttner looks at Hugo. "Not entirely alone, however, I see." Hugo gazes calmly back at Huttner at the comment. "My mother disappeared when I was still an infant," Espérance tells him calmly. "I know practically nothing of who she was or where she came from. My education has been... my own." "Hmm." Huttner seems slightly disquieted by this. He slides the box across the table toward the chair Espérance leans against. As he does so, Hugo shifts slightly on his haunches, as if trying to get a better look. The part of the stone visible glitters within its wrapping. "A Message Stone is a method for storing a recorded message," Huttner continues. "While a more formal missive would be in writing, some prefer to use images of themselves to bear their words. These images are stored as particles of light and arcane force within faceted gemstones, often keyed to a House, a Bloodline, or even just an individual person." "In this case, You" Huttner says simply. Espérance stares at him skeptically -- what he's talking about sounds like some sort of magic -- but reaches out her hand to slide the box toward her. "So you're saying that while you shouldn't touch the stone, I should." "Yes." Huttner says. "Continued contact will produce the best results although it will activate somewhat with just a touch." She lays a light, experimental fingertip on the sparkling gem. While the wooden box felt ordinary to the touch, the gemstone is different. The sensation that Espérance feels through her sensitive and skilled fingertip is like touching cold water. The gem is unnaturally cool. And three seconds after laying that finger on the gem, there is a soft tremble from the stone, and then, disembodied, there is magic. A voice. A female voice of an accent similar to Huttner's, and surprisingly similar to Espérance's own for it. It seems to come from the stone. "Good day, Espérance Richardsdottir. If all has gone well, a factor or relation has delivered this message stone into your hands. My name is Dara of the line of Benedict, High Lady of House Sawall and Queen Mother of the Courts of Chaos." "I am your mother." Espérance snatches her hand away and glares at Huttner. "What sort of game is this? I don't find it amusing." "Game?" Huttner's face, in comparison to the glare that Espérance favors, is a study in confusion. He furrows his eyebrows. "I play no game." His expression changes slightly and his eyes widen. "Do you think I am from some other House, presenting lies before you? Do you think that I am presenting a fraud?" "I think..." Espérance takes a deep breath. =Don't kill the messenger.= She can't quite explain even to herself the sudden, white-cold anger coursing through her. "Perhaps..." Huttner looks from Espérance to Hugo and back again. "Perhaps your companion might be able to verify that the message stone is genuine?" "He's a =dog,=" Espérance bites out. "I can tell from the way he's reacting that you don't mean me harm, but as far as that thing goes..." She transfers her glare to the stone. "Tell me what will assuage your concerns," he asks. She says evenly, "I want to know where that voice is coming from." Huttner's puzzled expression with the sudden flare of enlightenment on his face. "Mistress Espérance." he says. "Forgive me. I was not instructed that you and this world were not familiar with such things." "The voice is stored within the crystal." he says. "Just like you might write words in a book, and later read them, so your Mother knows the secret of speaking words into a specially crafted and honed crystal, so that they can be later heard." "If you wish." he offers. "You might remove the crystal completely, take it with you outside or to another room, and see for yourself that there is no trick in the box, or anything of my doing, that evokes and emits its words." "Would not a true savage living without civilization consider a spyglass or a telescope that you demonstrated, showing things far away, to be some sort of devilry?" Huttner says. "And yet it is a commonplace item in Riverside." "Common knowledge, anyway," Espérance acknowledges, "even if it's beyond most people's purses. All right." She scoops up box, stone and all. "Perhaps I should be alone with my... mother. I'll be back." Huttner gives a nod of the head. Hugo, for his part trots after Espérance. She strides to a narrow, curtained doorway at one side of the room. Here a steep staircase leads to the roof -- one of the reasons Espérance took this room in the first place. Hugo stops at the doorway, as if standing guard over her privacy for her assent. Back when this part of town was fashionable, the house no doubt had a roof garden. Nowadays it is simply a flat expanse of gravel with a low parapet. Espérance steps through the roof-door and closes it behind her. She breathes deeply, gazing out at as much of the city as she can see through the morning fog. Then, her face set, she takes the stone out of the box and holds it in her hand. It's a quiet, fog-bound morning. Little can be seen beyond her building,the city fading into gloom as if it were no longer tangible. Again, just as before, three seconds after she grasps the stone, the voice emits. To her ear, it does come from the crystal. And in holding it in her hand, she notices that it vibrates ever so slightly as the disembodied voice speaks. "Good day, Espérance Richardsdottir. If all has gone well, a factor or relation has delivered this message stone into your hands. My name is Dara of the line of Benedict, High Lady of House Sawall and Queen Mother of the Courts of Chaos." "I am your mother." There is a pause. And then the voice continues once more. "I trust that your curiosity will eventually allow you to listen carefully to this message, rather than throwing it in the namesake for your city. You must forgive the method by which I am contacting you; things are uncertain, and I must make do as necessary." "You are, if you did not already come to the conclusion, the daughter of Richard St. Vier and myself. I thought it best, given the uncertain politics of other realms, that you should be raised away from the centers of power. Now, however, you have undoubtedly matured, as my daughter should, and are ready to take the next step to learn what that means." "I wish for you to first find your father. If your father lives, he holds a token that you might use as proof of your heritage. And then, you will travel beyond your world, to me. It will be a long journey, and it is possible that you will be diverted, detoured, or even opposed. Hugononpolianus will help conduct you in your travels." ='Hugononpolianus'?= thinks Espérance. Then, =*Hugo?* But I gave him that name... didn't I?= The day a ten-year-old Espérance found a shaggy black puppy and brought it home with her, the name had just seemed to ... fit... "I have confidence that you will in the end succeed past all obstacles. I've not looked upon you in years, and I look forwarding to meeting you at last." "Good luck, Espérance." The stone stops vibrating, and the voice ends. The dampness of that fog, still close, settles near to Espérance. After a few moments, she places the stone carefully back in its box and closes the lid on it. =So. A chance for all those questions to be answered, an opportunity for all those things to be said...= An undeniable lure, she admits ... and a challenge, of sorts. Leaving the roof, Espérance paces slowly back down the narrow staircase to her apartment. The only sound that Espérance hears besides her own footsteps as she heads back down to her apartment is the sound of the thumping tail from Hugo. When she reaches the bottom, he regards her with a patient and faithful look. The thumping of the tail picks up briefly as she comes close, and then ends when he returns to a quadrupedal position. Espérance ruffles his ears as she passes him. She finds herself wishing the dog could talk. Beyond the curtain, too, of course, is Huttner, still sitting where he was. As Espérance arrives, he looks up at her expectantly. "Did the message settle your apprehensions?" he asks. =No, it gave me a whole crop of new ones,= thinks Espérance. Aloud she asks, "How much do you know about what you carried? Who gave it to you, and where?" "Now that you have heard the message, perhaps what I explain will make more sense." Huttner says, with a respectful bow of the head. Hugo trots over and looks up at Huttner and watches him. It takes Huttner a moment to compose himself with the intense attention from Espérance's faithful hound. "Some months ago, I was commissioned by your Lady Mother, and her son Lord Jurt, to travel with Lord Cazaril Despilson," he continues. "Our mission were to carry messages of welcome and proceed to meet members of our House who had been fostered in shadow--her daughter, that is to say, you, and her granddaughter, Jurt's daughter Alexandra." Espérance isn't sure what he means by "fostered in shadow", though she guesses it's as good a description of her upbringing as any; hidden and unenlightened. "This took place in our House's holdings back home," Huttner adds. "'Our House.' Are you a relative also, then?" asks Espérance. She recalls Dara's mention of "a factor or relative." "Distantly and only by marriage," Huttner confirms. "Your mother the Lady Dara is married to Lord Sawall, head of the House. To his lordship I am a first cousin three times removed. The Lady Dara herself has origins..." he makes a pregnant pause "outside of the House. I do not believe she and I, and therefore the two of us, are related by blood." Espérance just nods, though privately wondering what this Lord Sawall thinks of his consort's offspring on the wrong side of the blanket, so to speak. "To continue my story," Huttner says. "Some time ago, a strange shadowstorm..." he continues, "a storm that ranged across an entire world, struck where we had taken shelter. Lord Cazaril and I were separated by the power of the storm. It was all I could do, in the aftermath, to find your message. I presumed that Lord Cazaril was unfindable, and possibly even killed. As I still held the information on where you were located, and the message itself, instead of turning back to your Mother, I continued on, and this week, found your world, and soon, you." "I know not what precisely the message contains," Huttner admits. "I assume it was a welcome to visit her in House Sawall?" he asks speculatively. "Something like that," says Espérance. "She wishes me to find my father first." She looks at Huttner assessingly. "Are your... instructions to accompany me?" He gives a bow. "In truth, milady, my orders now are at what the Weavers might call a loose end. His Lordship Cazaril was given the bulk of orders concerning your disposition. I suspect that he would have wished for you to accompany us to meet the Lady Alexandra, and thence all of us travel to the Courts." "I might be a poor substitute for his Lordship. However, I suspect that your Dal Honese companion and I together can aid you in traveling to find your father and beyond. If you will have me." "'Dal Honese'?" queries Espérance. "As for finding my father, I have some ideas of my own about where to begin." Espérance has long suspected the Duchess Tremontaine of having a better idea than most of the whereabouts of the legendary St. Vier. Now, at last, seems the right time to ask her about it. "Do you have a place to stay while I make the necessary inquiries?" "Dal Honese," he agrees. He gives a glance at Hugo and then to the swordswoman and then back to Hugo. "A Dal Honese, aren't you?" Something glimmers in Hugo's eyes, and he barks, once. "You see, milady Espérance," Huttner says, looking back at her. "There are many creatures and denizens of the Courts. House Sawall has made an arrangement with a race of semi intelligent creatures, the Dal Honese, to act as guardians and guides. One of the things that convinced me that I had found the right person was his presence with you. I've apprenticed to a Beastmaster, you see, and I know how to tell the difference between a Dal Honese, and a more mundane companion." Espérance also looks at her shaggy companion with new eyes. Then she turns back to Huttner. "And what other talents do you possess?" she asks him, figuring this would be good to know if they're to travel together. "I am not highly ranked enough to be considered a candidate for the Logrus." Huttner says. "However, I have been taught the usual skills that a gentleman from Chaos should know--combat, dancing, riding and poisons. Of course, I also have power over the Black Road...a means to travel, although not as fast as the Logrus." He gives a nod. "The meaning of much of this I will explain on our travels. We will have much time to talk." "I suppose we will," says Espérance. "For now, combat and riding should be good enough." "As far as to my accommodations, I have rented a room in a hotel in the city," Huttner adds. "The Green Arms, on the Street of Tulips, near the river. I can wait as long as you need." "I'm familiar with the place," agrees Espérance. "The ale is excellent, but leave the wine alone. Oh, and Mistress Benita only =thinks= she knows how to cook fish." "Fish?" Huttner furrows his eyebrows. "That smell was fish?" His tone is incredulity. "I thought the smell was that of Lap cheong, even if it doesn't fit this world." Espérance chuckles. "I won't ask what Lap cheong is, right now. I'd give it another name that probably wouldn't be so polite. Stick with the roast meats ... it's safer. "Thank you." Huttner gives a nod. "I will endeavor to do that." "I'll look for you there, then, probably in a day or two." Huttner gives Espérance a full and formal bow. "I shall be there, lady Espérance, preparing for our journeys and awaiting your preparations." Espérance opens her mouth to tell him she's not a lady, then closes it again. Who knows? Among her mother's people -- whoever they are -- perhaps she is. She walks to the door to see Huttner out. Huttner walks to the door, and gives a bob of the head to Espérance at the threshold. When Huttner turns back, Hugo simply wags his tail and watches her with the same canine expression he has always had. Out of the window, Espérance can see the young man soon reach the street, and start heading the way that he came. Espérance's ability and talent for noticing details allows her to see two things. First, as he walks, she can see the fingers of Huttner's right hand, visibly, waggle as if playing a brass instrument's stops. And second, the fog is finally lifting, and with strange rapidity, as the morning sun starts to come into view in the sky, and much closer to the ground, the rest of Riverside comes into view as well. Second by second, the fog becomes less and less oppressive. It will soon be only a memory of the early morning... Backlinks |
