Ladybird
First Post
Lady Brightspan’s chamber was a light, airy room, filled with colorful tapestries and a flock of ladies-in-waiting, all busy with talking and needlework. Lady Brightspan herself was a small, thin, middle-aged woman with her gray hair looped up in fluffy, elaborate knots, deep in conversation with another, slightly younger woman. Everything about the scene suggested peace, tranquility, and homey comfort.
Nobody from Canberry was fooled for a second. From the way Lady Brightspan was speaking, it was obvious that she was completely in control of her castle, and the business of the Brightspan government hadn’t stopped just because the duke was away.
Something about the bearing of the younger, dark-haired woman next to Lady Brightspan tugged at Honore’s memory. It was as if the woman had had clerical training – Honore remembered having to stand for hours like that at prayers, when she was in the seminary – but she wore no obvious holy symbol. Still, a noble of Lady Brightspan’s status should have a spiritual advisor by her side, and there were no other clergy in the room that Honore could see. “Odd,” thought Honore, and filed that away in the neat, orderly workings of her mind.
Meanwhile, Lady Brightspan had dismissed most of her ladies-in-waiting, who scurried out of the audience chamber with sidelong looks at the Canberrry expedition that showed that most of these women had just as much expertise and intelligence as Lady Brightspan, despite their appearances.
The poor page, nearly at his wits’ end after the encounter in the hallway and being buffeted to and fro by departing ladies-in-waiting, gulped, and said in a single breath: “Lady Brightspan. May I introduce – Dame Katherine of Lyneham - Sir Toby McGillicuddy, in service to Whimsy – Mother Honore and Sister Alessandre, in service to Glordiadel – Gyles Lennox – Kashan – Jet – and, er, Twang? Sent from the capital on their way south of the border to fight slavers, m’lady.” Varya, who had not said a single thing throughout the journey to the castle, didn’t mind that she wasn’t included in the introductions. She was used to being overlooked, and had gotten so used to it that she wasn’t offended anymore. Plus, it helped to be overlooked, sometimes – it meant that you could go places and not get noticed.
“Ah,” said Lady Brightspan, with a sweet smile. “We are always happy to have visitors from the capital. I hope that the new Archduke, is doing well and in good health?”
Kit still wasn’t fooled. She could tell that the Duchess of Brightspan hoped that Alistair was anything but in good health. Preferably dead, if Lady Brightspan got her way.
“Oh, certainly, Your Grace,” Kit replied, with just as sweet and polite a smile. “And he will be happy to hear that your ladyship is the same. We just couldn’t pass through without paying our respects, Your Grace. It wouldn’t be proper.” She wasn’t sure if Lady Brightspan was fooled by her own attempt at kind concern, but she could hope.
“Indeed. So you’re here to fight the slavers?” Lady Brightspan went on. “Good. It’s about time someone tried to put a stop to them. Oh, there have been the usual adventuring bands of younger children of noble houses, that sort of thing. But that’s not enough, even after the Sixth Disctrict withdrew.”
“So they are gone?” Kit’s interest sparked. She wasn’t sure if she could trust anything that Lady Brightspan said, but figured that this, at least, was easy enough to verify.
“Oh yes. Six weeks ago. They took their three vollers and went off to the west. Whoever is in behind the current raids, it isn’t the Noldar. They do have arcane power on their side, though; there have been fireball attacks, or so I’ve heard. Still, nobody’s been able to make a dent in them yet. Not even the Hanalians.”
“The what?”
Lady Brightspan’s smile betrayed the tiniest hint of malice at Kit’s shocked reaction. “Oh, didn’t I mention them?” she asked, in a calculatedly casual tone. “Yes, there are 500 or so Hanalians south of the border. They don’t seem to be doing much against the slavers, though; they seem to be concentrating on the refugees. I rather think they’re looking for something or someone that the refugees have.”
“Oh. Really?” Kit was able to moderate her voice much better now that the initial surprise was over, but her mind was racing. Hanalians? This close to the border of Canberry? Too big to be a scouting party; too small to be a credible attack force; too open to be trying to sow discontent and sedition among the refugees…what could they be doing?
“Yes.” Lady Brightspan smiled again, as sweet as ever. “Would you like something to eat before you move on? I wouldn’t feel right, sending you on your way hungry.”
I think it might be time for one of those food-tasters. Kit thought, and by the uncomfortable look in Jet’s eyes, she could tell that he was thinking the same thing. Although I doubt that she would poison us at her own table, no matter how hostile she is to Alistair…
Fortunately, the food was very good, and entirely non-poisonous. To say grace, Lady Brightspan called in her official spiritual advisor: an ancient and doddering Glordiadelian bishop. Well, that explains how and why she’s been able to have that other cleric at her side, thought Honore, as she did her best to subtly prompt the old man along when he forgot his lines. It would probably be impolitic to have another official advisor, but still – there must be something odd going on, or why wouldn’t the other cleric want to reveal her status? Or even the deity that she worships?
Nobody from Canberry was fooled for a second. From the way Lady Brightspan was speaking, it was obvious that she was completely in control of her castle, and the business of the Brightspan government hadn’t stopped just because the duke was away.
Something about the bearing of the younger, dark-haired woman next to Lady Brightspan tugged at Honore’s memory. It was as if the woman had had clerical training – Honore remembered having to stand for hours like that at prayers, when she was in the seminary – but she wore no obvious holy symbol. Still, a noble of Lady Brightspan’s status should have a spiritual advisor by her side, and there were no other clergy in the room that Honore could see. “Odd,” thought Honore, and filed that away in the neat, orderly workings of her mind.
Meanwhile, Lady Brightspan had dismissed most of her ladies-in-waiting, who scurried out of the audience chamber with sidelong looks at the Canberrry expedition that showed that most of these women had just as much expertise and intelligence as Lady Brightspan, despite their appearances.
The poor page, nearly at his wits’ end after the encounter in the hallway and being buffeted to and fro by departing ladies-in-waiting, gulped, and said in a single breath: “Lady Brightspan. May I introduce – Dame Katherine of Lyneham - Sir Toby McGillicuddy, in service to Whimsy – Mother Honore and Sister Alessandre, in service to Glordiadel – Gyles Lennox – Kashan – Jet – and, er, Twang? Sent from the capital on their way south of the border to fight slavers, m’lady.” Varya, who had not said a single thing throughout the journey to the castle, didn’t mind that she wasn’t included in the introductions. She was used to being overlooked, and had gotten so used to it that she wasn’t offended anymore. Plus, it helped to be overlooked, sometimes – it meant that you could go places and not get noticed.
“Ah,” said Lady Brightspan, with a sweet smile. “We are always happy to have visitors from the capital. I hope that the new Archduke, is doing well and in good health?”
Kit still wasn’t fooled. She could tell that the Duchess of Brightspan hoped that Alistair was anything but in good health. Preferably dead, if Lady Brightspan got her way.
“Oh, certainly, Your Grace,” Kit replied, with just as sweet and polite a smile. “And he will be happy to hear that your ladyship is the same. We just couldn’t pass through without paying our respects, Your Grace. It wouldn’t be proper.” She wasn’t sure if Lady Brightspan was fooled by her own attempt at kind concern, but she could hope.
“Indeed. So you’re here to fight the slavers?” Lady Brightspan went on. “Good. It’s about time someone tried to put a stop to them. Oh, there have been the usual adventuring bands of younger children of noble houses, that sort of thing. But that’s not enough, even after the Sixth Disctrict withdrew.”
“So they are gone?” Kit’s interest sparked. She wasn’t sure if she could trust anything that Lady Brightspan said, but figured that this, at least, was easy enough to verify.
“Oh yes. Six weeks ago. They took their three vollers and went off to the west. Whoever is in behind the current raids, it isn’t the Noldar. They do have arcane power on their side, though; there have been fireball attacks, or so I’ve heard. Still, nobody’s been able to make a dent in them yet. Not even the Hanalians.”
“The what?”
Lady Brightspan’s smile betrayed the tiniest hint of malice at Kit’s shocked reaction. “Oh, didn’t I mention them?” she asked, in a calculatedly casual tone. “Yes, there are 500 or so Hanalians south of the border. They don’t seem to be doing much against the slavers, though; they seem to be concentrating on the refugees. I rather think they’re looking for something or someone that the refugees have.”
“Oh. Really?” Kit was able to moderate her voice much better now that the initial surprise was over, but her mind was racing. Hanalians? This close to the border of Canberry? Too big to be a scouting party; too small to be a credible attack force; too open to be trying to sow discontent and sedition among the refugees…what could they be doing?
“Yes.” Lady Brightspan smiled again, as sweet as ever. “Would you like something to eat before you move on? I wouldn’t feel right, sending you on your way hungry.”
I think it might be time for one of those food-tasters. Kit thought, and by the uncomfortable look in Jet’s eyes, she could tell that he was thinking the same thing. Although I doubt that she would poison us at her own table, no matter how hostile she is to Alistair…
Fortunately, the food was very good, and entirely non-poisonous. To say grace, Lady Brightspan called in her official spiritual advisor: an ancient and doddering Glordiadelian bishop. Well, that explains how and why she’s been able to have that other cleric at her side, thought Honore, as she did her best to subtly prompt the old man along when he forgot his lines. It would probably be impolitic to have another official advisor, but still – there must be something odd going on, or why wouldn’t the other cleric want to reveal her status? Or even the deity that she worships?
(Possibly, she'll learn the hard way, although fortunately she seems to be doing OK so far.)
