TheRoadToDamascusIndex SB: Espérance: The Road to Damascus Alex's fingers lightly dance on Swan's scalp (and the fingers are just slightly warmer than Swan expects), and so the exertions of the day turn into a gentle, rocking, rolling ride. "Are you looking to converse, or to rest?" Cazaril says to Espérance. "I expect that between myself, and your bondswoman, you could find some rest. Really, only I and Huttner" Cazaril looks ahead and down at the young man confidently urging the large creature forward "are the ones that strictly *need* to be awake." "I will rest" Kolfa declares "only when She gives me leave to do so." "You have my permission," Espérance tells her. "You'll be more use to me and everyone if you're well rested. Though I for one can rest and converse at the same time," she tells Cazaril, "as long as it won't disturb anyone else's concentration." "We will speak quietly" Cazaril says. "And allow the others to rest." Indeed, within a few moments, Kolfa, Swan and Alex all drift off into slumber. Cazaril glances outside at what has become an infinite sea of green jungle, punctuated only by the greyish line of the seemingly endless road that, below, Huttner leads the Oliphant and its cargo, human and otherwise, along. "Now that we aren't looking for missing people, or dealing with Jesby adversaries." Cazaril says "Now, and later on the train ride, is the time for conversation and questions. Surely you must have a myriad of them, and pledged to your mother as I am, it's a duty, and a pleasure to answer them." "Any you haven't already posed to Huttner and gotten answers to, of course." he adds. Espérance leans back in her seat, her pose relaxed. The sharpness of her gaze is anything but. "Factions," she says in a low voice to Cazaril. "I've never been a real player--a sword for hire, especially in Riverside, has to be officially neutral--but I've seen enough of the game to know how it works. There'll be people in my mother's own court, never mind the Jesbys, who won't be best pleased to see me turn up. Who am I going to have to watch out for, that you know of? Mind you, I don't expect you to know all the answers. It's in the nature of things that you wouldn't. But if I already know that obvious ones, I can spare more attention for the inobvious ones." "Well, let's begin with the basics on the political factions. Broad strokes that my sometimes overenthusiastic protege" Cazaril head motions down toward Huttner "may have forgotten to mention." "Chaos is an Empire, ruled by an Emperor officially advised by representatives of the Noble Houses, the Thirteen Great ones anyway. The Emperor is selected from these Thirteen Houses. You, your mother, Alexandra, myself and Huttner are from Sawall, the current Royal House, since the Emperor comes from our House. The other Great Houses combine and recombine to form the major factions in Chaos, using minor Houses as pawns and proxies. There are factions within the individual Houses, too, of course, like our own." "With me so far?" Cazaril says. Espérance nods. "So far, pretty much what I expected," she says. "Good" Cazaril says. "As I said, thirteen Houses. Sawall, our royal House, has strong ties to Helgram--your mother is originally from there. Lesser ties to Wererathe and Vangrast." "Hendrake, the House that is next in succession order, forms the major opposing bloc in the Diet. They hate Helgram with a passion, and have a lot of smaller houses under their banner or folded into their structure. Minobee likes them; their House head is from there. Aricline and Draynell too, favor them." "Our friends the Jesbys make the third largest faction, allied strongly with Chanicut, and with contacts and relations with a slew of the others. There are smaller factions below them, but those factions churn and change rapidly. These three are the ones to watch, for starters." "Right," says Espérance. "Now, how about the factions within Sawall's own party? I know there have to be some." "There are" Cazaril says with obvious reluctance "obvious fault lines within Sawall. You will find the feudal power structure within Sawall to resemble the dukedoms and baronies of your birth shadow, Espérance. Below his Grace the Duke, and the Duchess, your mother, there are six Marcheses: Donato, Junious, Delmas, Creola, Delois, and Chiara. Each of those, in turn, have six Baronies beneath them." "Of course, theoretically, all six Marcheses are beholden to the Duke. As you might imagine, Espérance, reality is very different." Espérance grins wryly. "It always is." "Delois is strongly allied to the Emperor and the Ducal line. I promised Alex and Swan a session with the Marchesa in tutoring them in shapechanging. Its a specialty of that line. Chiara also strongly favors the Duke and the Emperor. Marchese Donato thinks that he should be the next Duke of Sawall, and Junious owes him enough favors to be his..." Cazaril makes a face of disgust "lapdog." "Delmas and Creola blow with the winds. Both Donato and Delois court them extensively, and that does shape politics. The baronies generally follow their lieges, but there IS a small group of baronies from across the Marcheses that, together, try to exercise beyond their station. They call themselves the Grey Baronesses." "They're all women, then?" hazards Espérance. "How many women are peers in their own right, like Duchess Tremontaine?" "Out of the 5 Marcheses, Delois and Chiara and Creola are female. As far as the thirty six baronies, I believe nineteen..." Cazaril shakes his head. "No, twenty, are female. That includes the Grey." "You and Alex are certain to draw their attention when we arrive." "No doubt. New pieces in the game, properties unknown," Espérance muses. "Precisely. And, based on blood, relatively high ranked pieces, too." Cazaril says. "Daughter of the duke's wife and Emperor's mother, and first daughter of her son, niece to the Emperor." Cazaril glances down at Huttner and then back at Espérance. "The moment we are in Sawall, there will be those who will say that Huttner and I have been manipulating you all along, melding you to our point of view." "Naturally," says Espérance, then continues with a slight smile, "Why don't you tell me what your point of view is, so I'll at least know what I'm being suspected of sympathizing with?" "Well, Huttner and I are loyalists to the Ducal family, first and foremost, and to Dara in particular. I respect my father, and through him my grandmother, your mother. Huttner has a bit of Helgram blood in his line as well, making us both distantly related to him." "In addition to being royalists, we, support the incorporation of House Orlais fully into Sawall, making their Somdej Chao Phraya into the seventh Marchese. We do not think that Master Suhuy should be forced to act as official council for the Duke. Our branch of the family are only moderately religious, which is why I did not condemn Alex as a heretic for walking that design. Huttner and I do feel that the Lessima are a dangerous threat and neither of us support reconciliation with *them*. Espérance chuckles. "Yes, that's more or less the sort of gobbledegook I was expecting," she tells Cazaril. "Apart from the fact that you and Huttner are loyal to my mother and her family, which is also what I expected you to say. The rest of it will presumably start to make sense after I meet the people in question." "Immersion into the Courts will be an interesting experience" Cazaril replies. "However, you have people who support you, a relative for an ally..." he glances at the sleeping Alex "you have had a demon bound to you for years..." another sidelong glance at the quiet but not-quite-sleeping Hugo "and you have even picked up someone to serve you, and a blade besides. I think My grandmother has done remarkably well in giving you the tools to survive and thrive." "All at a distance," Espérance says dryly. "Remarkable." "Speaking of the blade, I did want to talk to you more about it. That can wait for the train portion of our trip, if you still want to experiment with it, by yourself, first." "Will there be more privacy on this 'train' of yours?" asks Espérance. "And more space? I don't really want to experiment too much while riding on a live creature." "If it's anything like the one we took in, there should be a bit of both," a sleepy voice emerges from recently awakened Alex. Sleepy eyes open, the tiniest hint of flame flickering in their depths, as she slowly stretches out each cramped muscle. It isn't the long full-body stretch she would have given had she been in a bed, but it's enough to shake the sleep from her bones. Fingers clasped together, she finishes with her arms over her head, palms pressing toward the sky. "I needed that." "So," she asks, folding her legs smoothly beneath her as she looks from one person to the next. "Did I miss anything important?" "I was educating Espérance in some of the material we covered in our own train trip, Alex." Cazaril replies. "The Thirteen Great Houses of Chaos. The Marcheses under the Duke and Duchess of Sawall. I didn't tell her about our immediate family, yet, and I know this is stale wine for you, Alex, but if you will indulge me." Alex nods her acceptance, settling back into the comfort of her seat. While it may be "stale wine", as Caz called it, she listens carefully to more readily cement the information in her mind. "And to confirm what Alex has said first, Espérance." Cazaril says. "the train will have small but private suites for all of us." "The Ducal family consists of Duke Gramble, elderly but still alive, and his wife Dara, the Queen Mother to Merlin, our Emperor. Dara also has several other children. Mandor is the oldest, but he declared himself unsuitable for the throne. He has no children of which I am aware. He's the best sorcerer out of all of us, famed throughout the Courts." "Dara's other children are Jurt and Despil. Alex is Jurt's daughter, and as I said when first introduced, I am Despil's son." "It is not often said or spoken aloud." Cazaril says "But none of these children are Gramble's by blood, although they are by adoption. When you two are formally presented, you will be adopted into the Ducal family as well." "Duke Gramble sounds like an accommodating sort," comments Espérance. "There is a story behind that." Cazaril says. "And this is where some of the politics comes in, some of that politics that you two are facing." "The Duke is old, and probably will not last many more years. All of the children he had, and his previous wife, fell to either Vendetta, or the War with Amber. If not for the marriage to Dara, he would have likely lost the Dukedom to one of the Marcheses." He looks at Espérance. "I mentioned Marchese Donato before, and how he thinks he should have been Duke. He bears no love for Dara for spiking his plans for advancement. I understand that arcane laws allowed the Duke to adopt family members only if he was married. And thus, we have the situation we have now." "You two, when you are adopted into the Ducal line, help serve as an insurance policy against Donato and Junious by growing the family. Alternatively, you are the most accessible to be turned--or attacked." Cazaril finishes. Espérance nods her comprehension, then throws out a hypothetical question. "What if we were to decide that we didn't want to be adopted?" Alex blinks. The option of not being adopted never occurred to her. Her search for her father had so consumed her that, when Cazaril found her and proved her heritage, she took her adoption as a requirement. She was interested to hear what would happen if she decided that she didn't want to be a part of the Courts. That if, instead of being in eventual line for the throne, she chose to hitch her wagon to Swan's star. Now that the possibility has occurred to her, she leans forward to hear the response. "Not adopted?" Cazaril looks at Espérance blankly for a long moment. "I don't think her Highness considered the possibility that you might decline to join House Sawall. Or did you mean to join the House, but not join the household of his Grace the Duke?" "I don't know. I'd have to look about me," replies Espérance. "But did Her Highness" -- there's just the hint of a derisive sting in the title -- "really think she could leave a child to her own devices for most of her life and then expect automatic filial loyalty? Didn't she even consider that someone in that situation might decide to go back to where she's considered a person rather than a pawn?" Swan yawns, “You haven’t been playing this game for long have you, Ezzy?” She squirms and wiggles a little in her comfy place, not ready to surrender to the banality of true wakefulness. A soft smile crosses Alex's face as she watches Swan entertain the thought of longer rest. A slim hand rests on her lover's head, brushing her hair from her face as softly as a kiss. "Nice rest?" she asks under her breath. Then her attention turns back to Caz and Espérance's conversation. Swan gazes up at her and whispers, "I want to wake up to that smile from here on in." "I want you to wake up to this smile, too" Alex replies softly, her hand brushing a stray strand of hair from Swan's face. "Glad we see eye-to-eye, sweetheart," Swan whispers, touching Alex's wrist with feathery fingertips. "It is said." Cazaril says. "that she made similar mistakes with his Majesty, giving him too long of a leash for too long, and making him independent of her. Lord Jurt, on the other hand." he gives a nod of the head toward Alex "has been far more closely bound to his mother. And yet, for all of that, Merlin has become the Emperor, and Jurt has not yet similarly flowered in strength." "I think the Queen Mother wished you to be strong." Cazaril says. "And her son followed suit." he adds, glancing at Alex. "But both
being from a Court, can perhaps enunciate on this topic." "I can't give you the inside scoop," Swan says. "I'm the trigger-girl daughter of a trigger man. So, I've always been standing on the outside, doing the dirty work. People treat me with fear and suspicion. But they always come to me when they need something done. That's pull of a sort. "But yeah. Caz has the right of it. You got the blood, you gotta pay the dues. Just like people will tip the hat to you both. Find your place and grease the palms. Or you'll be someone's pin-cushion before the day is out. Welcome to the board, o'pawns of mine." Espérance nods soberly, then says, "I've mostly been in your position, Swan. Nobles in Riverside paid me to pursue their quarrels for them ... but that meant I was professionally neutral. Now..." She smiles slightly. "Well, actually, I look forward now to meeting these brothers of mine. Their take on this whole business may be ... interesting, to say the least." "This is my first experience in anything like this," Alex admits. "So I'm looking to all of you for advice." Her lips curve as a chuckle escapes. "And I'll still probably offend
"It is my duty to minimize such events, Alex" Cazaril says. "Your training is far from complete." "You will be introduced to your brothers in short order" Cazaril says,turning back to Espérance. "Doubtless, since you are by blood his sister...' he then glances at Alex "and niece, even his Majesty the Emperor will be most interested in meeting you both as soon as possible. You would be his first close female relatives other than his Mother after all." "And then, after the rest of the House, you will likely be introduced to Suhuy, the Keeper, and assessed for your suitability for Logrus training." Cazaril continues. "With the Pattern Imprinted on her cute butt, won't 'Lex have a dicken's of a time wrangling this Logrus?" Swan says, slightly concerned. Cazaril considers this for a long moment. His eyes drift over from Swan to regard Alex. His eyes briefly change color, to a dull brick red, before reverting back to normal. "It is a problem, to be sure." he says. "I do understand, however, that his Majesty the Emperor is amongst those select few who managed to bear both imprints. And there is another who has managed the feat of having both imprints." "The Queen Mother, herself." Cazaril says. He then turns his head. Flying above the tree line is a beautifully colored bird, in red, and blue and green. Something like a large parrot, this bird is flying on an intercept course toward the Oliphant. Swan sits up, suddenly alert. Muggin is in her hand; cold and menacing. “Something tells me Toucan Sam over there isn’t just a stray pigeon.” Glancing up at the bird, Espérance thinks 'crossbow' at what is currently the bracelet on her wrist. As it gets closer, Swan, Espérance, and Alex can see that the oversized parrot-like bird is carrying something rectangular in its claws. Espérance's bracelet smoothly flows and changes. Swan does indeed recognize, as does Espérance, that it forms into a jet black crossbow of a sooty dark material that feels slightly warm to the bearer. There is a bolt, with a silver-like gleaming metallic appearance, already loaded. "It smells of Pattern magic." Cazaril says. "If I summon the Logrus here, however..." he glances at Alex and Swan, it might discomfort your reactions." He looks down and shouts to Huttner to stop the progress of the Oliphant. "What does?" Espérance asks Cazaril. "The bird, or this?" She gestures with the crossbow. "The bird of course, Espérance." Cazaril replies. "Not the Silver Dragon blade. I think it would be insulted to be thought to be akin to Prince Corwin of Amber's accursed Pattern Sword." Espérance shrugs. "You're the one with the nose for these things." Shortly, however, the bird comes within firing range of the crossbow and Swan's guns as well. Inaction will mean that the bird will get within those ranges shortly... “Hold your fire, Ezzy,” Swan says, remembering her recent ‘conversation.’ “This Maltese pigeon might be for me.” Espérance nods acknowledgement, but remains alert. [Swan] suspects this might be Van’s doing. You didn’t walk the Pattern and not take advantage of its ornithological messenger system at least once in your life. She still fondly remembers the time she sent a polite 'up-yours' to dad via penguin. Swan closes her eyes and allows her arcane senses to extend outward through Muggin. She scans the bird through this ‘scope,’ focusing on the package it appears to be carrying. Alex leans forward, eyes focused on the bird. She doesn't ready a weapon - hers are all too wide spread to be effective at this distance - but she keeps herself ready in case whatever is on it's way isn't a pleasant surprise for Swan. Through the sight of the gun, Swan can see that the square object is exactly the size and shape of a Amber tarot card, and her red-headed uncle appears to be depicted on this particular card. Indeed, with Swan holding off the fire of her compatriots, the parrot soon reaches the Oliphant. In a deft move, the parrot releases the card and veers off. The trump card flies in an easy arc toward Swan. The bird is still easily within range if Espérance changes her mind. Swan deftly snatches the arcing missile from the air. The gun slips back into its holster and she returns to her seat. “Yep,” she says. “Telegram from the family. Sorry to rile your knickers, guys.” Espérance sees no reason to fire, however. "You can continue." Cazaril calls down to Huttner. "Just a Barimen trick, it looks like, rather than Jesby." Swan rests her head in Alex’s lap, turning the card over in her hand. “My first Trump. Van must have wanted me to ring him up from time to time.” She flips the card over, examine the smooth back. “I need to glom me a case for this.” She nods to Cazaril, “I’m supposin’ you lot can’t do the bird on a wire trick?” "Creating or summoning creatures capable of seeking others in shadow?" Cazaril says. "No, seeking destinations in shadow by will, either by walking or by a proxy such as the bird, is the province of you flatlanders." He looks apologetically at Alex. "This distorted Pattern, for the moment, puts you in that category as well, Alexandra. No, what we can do is a different sort of skill. We've been using it to get to the train station, but I believe you wanted a trump case, Swan?" Alex's eyes light up as a thought occurs to her. "Does that mean I can do a little of both? Or would the Pattern cancel out whatever it is I'd be able to do naturally?" Swan nods, “Sure. Better than stuffin’ this in with my unmentionables.” She smiles with an exuberant curiosity. She slips her arm around Alex’s waist, “Yeah, what about that? Did I ruin her for life?” "No" Cazaril says. "The path for Alex to learn the Logrus is not barred to her, but it might be more difficult for her to internalize the lessons than Espérance will..." He glances toward Dara's daughter. "The first thing both of you will have to learn, of course, is the knack of changing your shape, at least enough to navigate the Logrus. As a scion of order, even distorted order, Alex, Espérance has an inherent flexibility that you no longer have" Espérance raises an eyebrow at this, though whether she's reacting to the remark about flexibility or the idea of changing shape would be difficult to say. "Is there any way to work on that flexibility?" Alex asks, curious. Then, upon realizing what must be going through her lover's mind, she glances quickly at Swan. "And I don't think that will help." She tells her with an impish grin. Swan looks aghast, “Oh close your head! No way I’m thinkin’ about shapeshifting and extra ‘bits.’ And I'm certainly not thinkin’ about working on the flexibility. What kinda bird do you take me for?” Then she mimics Alex’s wicked smile, “Still, it couldn’t hurt to give it a go. Cover the bases.” "There are exercises and programmes one should undertake to do so." Cazaril says. "It can be part of the preliminary training to establish suitability for assaying the Logrus." Alex blows a kiss to Swan before turning her attention back to Caz. "Sounds good to me. Last thing I want is to be inflexible." "However...speaking of the Logrus" Cazaril continues "although we've been traveling through shadow thanks the Logrus, let me demonstrate its version of the bird trick, as you called it, Swan." The creepy feeling washes over Espérance, Swan and Alex in turn. For Espérance, the sensation is becoming more and more familiar, and less and less unwholesome. Alex, however, now finds this sensation somewhat unpleasant, creepy and shivering, just as Swan does. The sensation does not last too long, but Swan gets an additional jolt when a smoky gray plastic case falls into her hands from nowhere. A moment later, two more cases, of the same shape and size but in translucent blue and translucent red, appear within the grasp of Espérance and Alex respectively. Espérance inspects the case curiously, as much intrigued by the material as the object itself. "I've forgotten that you may not be familiar with this material" Cazaril says to Espérance. "It is a polymer called polystyrene. It comes from technologically advanced worlds and is often used in the place of wood, horn, stone, or bone." "Wicked!" Alex breathes, turning the case over in her hand as she inspects it herself. Looking through the red tint, she watches her fingers stroke the reverse side of the box. Without looking up at Swan she asks, "Can I get one of those neat cards of you to put in my box?" Swan snickers through her teeth, “Sure thing, doll. I’d love to be in your box.” But she shrugs an instant later, “You’ll have to ask Caz for a Trump though. Far as I know no one has one. I cheesed it before some gonif could make one. I can pose in the buff if you like.” With a dramatic sigh, Alex bemoans, "If only I was as good at art as I am at blowing things up." She examines the new case and jerks a nod, “Nice work, Caz. Normally, I’d have to do some serious ankling for anything this sweet.” "I suspect you could have walked us to a place where these were littering a beach." Cazaril says dryly. "But you are welcome. I know that Huttner has been known to do some sketching..." Caz glances down at Huttner, who to all reports is listening intently even as he leads the Oliphant. "but as far as a full trump artist, we will have to contract with one in Sawall." "Although it is said he is so skilled, I doubt that his Majesty could be contracted to make a trump of you, Alex." Cazaril adds dryly. Alex's eyes go wide at the comment "I don't know if I'd dare ask him even if he could!" “We should get some of the whole gang,” Swan says. “We’ll be bumping shoulders for awhile. May as well have a way to dingle each other.” She secures the Trump in her case and then puts that in her jacket’s inner pocket, patting it happily. She settles back into her chair, patting her lap for Alex to sit. The red woman slides down into Swan's lap, squirming a little to get comfortable. "Best seat in the house," she remarks with a smile. Swan’s warm lips find the pulse in Alex’s neck, blessing it with gentle kisses and playful nibbles. Her arms slide around her waist, holding her close. “I hope they have a private cabin on this train,” she whispers. A shiver of pleasure wiggles down Alex's body. Turning her face toward Swan, she plants a soft kiss on her lover's cheek. "So do I," she replies softly. "Then a contract with a Trump Artist will be a necessity. I think your mother." Cazaril looks at Espérance "would approve of a proper sitting for you, for one thing." There is a sense of transition, and then the jungle terrain changes. While the Oliphant is still being led by Huttner through a copse of trees, from their high perch, the riders can see that the jungle ends in only a few hundred meters. Beyond it is a river valley, with red stone cliffs lining it on both sides. Beside the lazy river is a gleaming set of metal rails that run in both directions, just as the river does. A tall gothic building stands between the river and the tracks, with quays on the river and a long raised platform next to the rails. Espérance sees a series of metal carriages on wheels on the rails, yoked together. In front of the one of the ends of the series of carriages is a large scaled beast, with steam gently puffing from its nostrils. This four footed creature dwarfs even the Oliphant. Alex and Swan, though recognize it for what it is. It's a train. Its a train pulled by something like a wingless dragon. "Wicked!" Alex breaths, her eyes wide with excitement. "I can't wait to get on that thing!" For all that she'd been on main trains in her travels, they'd all been power by coal or electricity. One being pulled by a dragon... "There it is." Cazaril says. "Nokomis Station and the Drake Train that will take us to the Fire Gate." “Now that is the bee’s knees,” Swan says, regarding the dragon with a pleased smile. “Talk about traveling in style.” She closes her eyes for a moment, concentrating. Caz and the other ‘sensatives’ might sense her ‘tweaking’ with Pattern. Cazaril's shiver as Swan works with the Pattern is subtle, but it is unmistakable to both Espérance and to Alex. When [Swan] opens them again, “There should be a line of lockers at the station with a change of glad rags and toiletries for each of us stashed inside. After all the blood and nastiness, dollars to donuts we stink to high heaven.” "We probably do, at that," Espérance notes wryly. Alex takes an experimental sniff, wrinkling her nose. "We DEFINITELY do at that. At least, I do." Looking down at Huttner, she raises her voice to be heard. "How fast can we get over there? I definitely need some freshening." "There are reasons" Huttner calls upward "that I volunteered to lead the Oliphant. It smells fresher than the rest of us. I hurry, never fear." In short order, Huttner makes good on his promise. The Oliphant follows a path that switchbacks down the valley to the treeless river valley below. The possibility of Oliphants appears to have been anticipated as staff from the station soon aid Huttner in bringing the creature to a stop at a raised platform, and a rope ladder is rigged to allow Espérance, Swan, Alex, and Cazaril to disembark and join Huttner for the short walk to the station. Espérance swings easily down from the high howdah, though she leaves the Oliphant with a certain amount of reluctance. She rather enjoyed this mode of transportation. Indeed, as Swan had promised, there is indeed, a series of clothes-lockers, with new outfits, toiletries and towels. Just a glance from the attendants at the group is sufficient identification to allow the group to access the cached supplies. Or is it a wrinkle of their noses? In any event, a private shower room and changing room is available for the entire group to enter and deal with the business of cleaning up quickly. Only one escalloped alcove appears to provide any privacy. "I will deal with arranging our accommodations. The train should be leaving shortly" Cazaril, cleaned and changed, says. “Thanks, Caz,” Swan says. As she passes Alex, she jerks a nod toward the showers and whispers, “Don’t think we’ll glom the chance to wash each other’s backs like our first time. But I’ll make it up to you on the train.” She gives her moll a playful slap on the butt and skips off to the showers. "I'll keep you to that," she warns with a grin. Shameless, she uses the more public area to get cleaned up. As she soaps up, she begins singing “The Lady is a Tramp” at full volume, swishin’ and a’swayin’ with a renewed vigor. The water feels great - not only because she’s washing off the medical garbage stink, but because she should be dead right now. Life is good. Life is grand. And people should know it. “…She loves the free, fresh wind in her hair, Life without care, She's broke, but it's ok, She hates California, it's cold and it's damp, That's why the lady is a tramp…” When she’s done, she towels off and slips into her new outfit: a tie-died, cotton skirt of chocolate, red, and oranges - like a forest fire at night – and a tank top with the words, ‘I Feel a Sin Comin’ On…” She ruffles her hair, “Let’s make like a baby and head out.” Espérance also doesn't seem too concerned about privacy, though she doesn't make a show of it as Swan does. She strips and washes efficiently, though she's careful with her new bracelet. Clean clothes feel good--a loose linen shirt, burgundy vest, and dark grey breeches. She keeps her boots and sword belt, leaves her dark hair loose to dry (it falls almost to her waist), sets her plumed hat on her head and is ready to go. Alex has only a little more care for privacy than her comrades. She doesn't hide her body completely, but she does step away from a majority of the eyes. As the water rushes over her, she notes the different feel that the water has on her new, warmed body. She fiddles with the temperature of the water until it feels a touch warmer than her skin, then takes a moment to just luxuriate as the water covers her, flowing like a waterfall from her long, auburn hair. A soft sigh of contentment passes her lips. She could happily stay here forever. But, as the great poet, Robert Frost, once said, they had miles to go before they sleep so she'd better get her butt in gear. Quickly, she cleans every crevice and cranny of her body until one last sniff test declares her clean enough. Once the water is off, she grabs a towel and begins to wring the water from her hair. Only when it has moved from dripping to damp does she quit. Finding a drier area of the towel, she runs it quickly over her body until it is dry. Only then does she reach into the locker to see what Swan has chosen for her to wear. First out is a pair of skin-tight pale golden leather pants. They slide easily over her legs, hugging her curves as though it was made for her. Which, in fact, they were. A loose white peasants top slips over her head, then she grabs the thin gold belt to cinch the roomy bottom around her slim waist. Finally, [Alex] pulls out the shoes. She half expected a pair of heels, slim, sexy and so wrong for her. But instead, a pair of comfortable sandals made from a pliant braided leather waits for at the bottom of the locker. Small beads in various shades of red are interlaced through the leather. The soul is flexible, fitting to the bottom of her foot like a second skin, yet providing enough padding that she doesn't feel any of the stones the she crossed over as she makes her way to the train. Sliding into step beside Swan, she reaches to caress the back of her hand. "Good pick. Thanks," she remarks. Looking over Swan's outfit, she can't hold back a grin. With a nod at the tank top, she asks, "Don't you ALWAYS feel sin comin' on?" Swan lightly strokes Alex’s fingers and chuckles, “You got me there, doll. I think I had a dry spell about forty years back. Lasted a whole day too. I was miserable.” She smirks and then steals a quick peck. "Gotta keep you from being miserable," Alex replies with a smirk of her own. By this point, Huttner, who had spent his own, mainly solitary ablutions (although Espérance did notice him giving her a speculative glance once or twice) humming some sort of nameless tune to himself, moves toward the door and regards Alex, Swan and Espérance. He is now dressed, in a form fitting outfit of black pants,trimmed with silver, topped with a white buttoned shirt, the top button open. His tennis shoes are white with black shoelaces. The sound of a whistle is heard dimly through the walls of the changing room. As if answeing Alex's question, he shakes his head. "I believe that is our signal to board the train." he says, reaching back and putting his hand on the handle of the door. Huttner does not yet open it as he continues to speak "I could have wished that we would use the Black Canal instead, especially since there is one here, and that Lady Espérance is familiar with such travel modes. Still, the train will be the most rapid way for all of us to reach the Courts." "Shall we?" he prompts. Swan slings her new duffel bag over her shoulder and jerks a nod, “Ready Freddy.” She heads for the train, almost skipping with excitement. As she climbs aboard, a touch of nostalgia hits her. Alex can tell right away; the smile changing from playful to wistful. She turns and winks, “I rode the rails back in Bête Noire when I was about your age. A regular bindle punk. From Paradiso to Terminus. That’s before I walked the Pattern, of course. After that, I sorta lost touch with the iron life.” She begins looking around for Caz and their rooms. Alex reaches out to squeeze Swan's hand without a word, a soft smile on her face. The interior of the dragon-pulled train is a vision of wood panelling, gleaming brass adornments, and a general sense of genteel style. The train is full but not packed to bursting, even though Espérance, Alex, Swan, and Huttner have to often navigate relatively narrow corridors and pass by bustling workers and riders alike to make progress to try and find Cazaril. It doesn't take long, once the group finds the upper class car. There are only two sets of extended suites in this entire car, one on each side of the corridor. The starboard side of the train proves to be occupied by a purple haired, tall man stripped to the waist, wearing a gray short skirt. Espérance regards him curiously. His stare back at Espérance is equally curious. There is the slightest furrowing of the eyebrows, as if he was trying to place her, but the moment quickly passes. Swan notices him, but she doesn’t let on that he’s caught her attention. She just memorizes his face from a wayward glance and moves on. Alex, however, lets her attention be known. She gives him an appreciative glance, her eyes lingering on the skirt. A grin appears and she leans in to whisper to Swan, "Men in skirts always turn me on for some reason." A touch off fire lights her eyes and her skin visibly warms a touch. The port side, however, proves to be the quarters of the party, when Cazaril opens the door with a smile. "Four suites." he explains, ushering the group inside and showing off the rooms, which are connected by an interior set of doors. "One for Espérance, one for Alex and Swan, and one for Huttner and myself. The fourth one at the far end is a bathroom," he explains. Espérance grins. "I assume Hugo and I are bunking together?" She swings her trunk off her shoulder and into one corner of her room. Cazaril chuckles, especially when Hugo gives him a more-than-canine look. "I thought that was implied. My apologies for not spelling it out." he says, looking down at Hugo. This appears to mollify Espérance's companion, with a single wag of the tail for emphasis. "There are curtains to allow for some privacy for those of us doubling up, but as you can see, the suites are relatively small but we can all cram into one if necessary to talk." The beds fold into the wall, as do tables and chairs. "I paid for three meals a day for each of us, those can be taken here or in one of the two dining cars." Cazaril continues. There is a long whistling sound. "Oh, and the estimated journey time to the Fire Gate is about 48 hours." he adds. "Any questions?" Espérance is exploring the room assigned to her. "Do these windows open?" Swan shakes her head to Caz’s question, “Nope. See you for grub.” Without much further ado, she loops her arm around Alex’s waist and pulls her into their cabin. She kicks the door closed with her foot. Apparently, her sin has finally arrived. A full-bodied laugh emerges from the other side of the door. Alex, apparently, has no problem with the arrival of sin. [I think I’d better leave the rest to the imagination ;-) ] Cazaril watches Swan and Alex disappear. "I intentionally gave them the last of the bedroom suites." he says, turning to Espérance. "I wonder if this will last long enough that Alexandra will have to register Swan as a concubine. That would cause some ripples in the House." Espérance looks faintly scandalized. "I don't see why it should be any of the House's business ... however long it lasts," she says. "Well" Cazaril says "Given Swan's origins, it matters. Having an official status would protect Swan against random Vendetta." "But to answer your question about the windows, Espérance: Yes." It's not actually physically that easy to open the windows, even when Cazaril shows her how. Its a complicated procedure involving two red levers and pulling up on the bottom. Espérance, however, perseveres. She feels better with some outside air coming in. The air is fresh, especially when the train begins its movement. Backlinks |
