For her part, Ansha thanks the servant who escorts them to the bathing chambers. She makes it a point to ignore the others in the chambers as she then proceeds to strip out of her own outfit, removing her fingerless gloves and boots and tossing them haphazardly aside. They are followed shortly by her skirt and corset, and she removes the ribbon keeping her hair bound in a loose ponytail before slipping into her own bath. Her unbound, knee-length hair soon spreads across the entire surface of the bath and she lets out a soft sigh. "I could get used to this again," she says wistfully. How long has it been now, since I left home? Nine decades? It seems like yesterday....
She makes a point to slip her head underwater as well, then hastily brushes a part in the hair that had covered her face as her head broke the surface again. She motions a servant over. "Be a dear and help me arrange my hair in something approaching fashionable among the Eleder nobility, would you?" she asks, flashing a bright smile. "Oh, and how long do we have before we are expected to make our appearance?"
"Well, this is more like it," the half-elf announces to noone in particular once he takes a few moments to look at the chambers arranged for him and his companions. After a long and relaxing bath, Kieran moves to the wardrobe, taking a little time until he finds several clothes to his liking.
"Well-made and elegant, yet comfortable and, of course, appropriately dark-colored," he mutters as he puts them on and, before long, he is garbed in attire of black, midnight blue and dark indigo. He does not make use of the jewellery that came with the room, save for a small silver barrette, which he uses to arrange his black hair into a neat ponytail.
"This should do it," he comments with a smile, as he takes a moment to look at himself in the mirror, before exiting his chambers.
For her part, Ansha thanks the servant who escorts them to the bathing chambers. She makes it a point to ignore the others in the chambers as she then proceeds to strip out of her own outfit, removing her fingerless gloves and boots and tossing them haphazardly aside. They are followed shortly by her skirt and corset, and she removes the ribbon keeping her hair bound in a loose ponytail before slipping into her own bath. Her unbound, knee-length hair soon spreads across the entire surface of the bath and she lets out a soft sigh. "I could get used to this again," she says wistfully. How long has it been now, since I left home? Nine decades? It seems like yesterday....
She makes a point to slip her head underwater as well, then hastily brushes a part in the hair that had covered her face as her head broke the surface again. She motions a servant over. "Be a dear and help me arrange my hair in something approaching fashionable among the Eleder nobility, would you?" she asks, flashing a bright smile. "Oh, and how long do we have before we are expected to make our appearance?"
The servant keeps her eyes lowered as she answers-
The party has already begun my lady- you may attend whenever you deign to.
** spoiler omitted **...
The galley covered in flags of Sargava and the catapults presented as to not pose a threat, you sail back towards Eleder.
Lady luck is even more generous than you thought possible- for no other crew member decides to try his way to the upper deck until your almost in Eleder's harbour. There are some tense moments and one of the Avistani, keeping his ear to the locked hatch, reports that the crew are under the impression the Captain is punishing them for failing to destroy every boat and seem to be sulking. There are some half-hearted efforts to get the hatch open but they bear no fruit for the pirates.
Your ship has been lit up by the few spellcasters among the two teams, the Halfling providing most of the clever magic to make it a rather stunning sight as it approaches. You don't see any sign of a ship coming to intercept you but you've only just entered visible range.
N'bellocq steps into the room to find that he will be sharing it with others who arrived before him. He sees the bed and the small pool. "I already swam today so I don't need to get wet again, and if you two have already laid dibs to the bed, I can sleep on the floor...not sure I could sleep in bed, now that I think on it..probably too soft."
It takes some explaining to convince him that they were there to help him AND that they were not slaves. There is nothing really to be done with his dreadlocks but tie them back with a thick leather cord. Never having new clothes before, he does relish the feel of the untorn fabric. Though the white shirt and brown pants are fairly mundane he does have one of his 'assistants find a colorful native vest to go over his shirt. He does not look to see what happens to torn pants and striped shirt. His feet he keeps bare, not understanding the need for feet clothes and hard leather.
The servant keeps her eyes lowered as she answers-
The party has already begun my lady- you may attend whenever you deign to.
"Oh. Well then," Ansha replies, helping the servant gather up her hair. "We wouldn't want to keep them waiting." She frowns at the hairstyle the servant puts her hair in at first. Really no sense of fashion, these Sargavans....
After giving the servant instructions on how to arrange Ansha's hair in a fashion that she remembers being worn among elven debutantes back home in Kyonin, Ansha weaves her hands in a couple of arcane passes. She closes her eyes as she concentrates, drying her hair off with the cantrip she had cast, only opening her eyes again when she feels the servant cease to work on her hair. She nods, satisfied. "You're a good hand at this, my dear. Thank you," she says with a wink.
After taking the time to clean herself thoroughly (and to simply relax in the steaming-hot bath), she stands again and steps out of the bath, sitting down on the rim and crossing her legs as she concentrates on drying herself off with that same cantrip. That done, she gathers her clothes in her arms, hands them off to the servant-girl and returns to her room (oblivious to the proprieties she may be violating by wandering the palace in the nude). Once inside the quarters she was provided, she has the servant place her corset and skirt down upon the bed and rummages through her backpack. After a few minutes she pulls out an elven noble's outfit--a wrinkled sage-green evening gown of obvious elven make--with a muttered "Ah hah!" and sets it down on the bed as well.
"That will be all for now, dear," she says by way of dismissing the servant.
Taking the time to clean her worn clothing and the evening gown with her cantrip, she dresses herself in the gown and arranges her own jewelry--on par with what most nobles wear anyway--appropriately on her body before looking over the clothes the colonials provided for a pair of slippers that match the outfit she's assembling. What happened to the slippers I was wearing that night, anyway? she thinks to herself, recalling the last time she wore this outfit. Her countenance darkens as she recalls. Oh, right. I lost those while I was running through...
Ansha shakes her head to clear the thoughts away, and tries on several pairs of shoes before she finds a pair she thinks work well with her gown. She then goes over to retrieve a few more bracelets and items of jewelry from her pack and her hand brushes a ring she hasn't worn in years, a signet ring of elven craftsmanship. After hesitating for several moments, she snatches the ring up and places it on her right ring finger, angrily chiding herself, What are you afraid of? They're thousands of miles away and decades in the past. They have no reason to even care you exist any more.
She spends several more minutes arranging her jewelry and cloth "just so" until, finally, the elf is satisfied with her appearance and steps out of her chambers, flashing a smile at the first person she spots and modelling the outfit for them as she asks, "What do you think?"
Stepping out of the bath Qhude's face is crossed by a frown as he does not find his clothing where it was left. Roughly drying off with a towel, Qhude dons the much cleaner and more presentable shorts that were left for him. He does however remain barefoot and barechested - only his amulet adorning his upper body.
Briefly returning to his room he ensures that his belongings have not been touched before pausing for a long while to consider whether he should don his cestus. Reason eventually wins out and he proceeds downstairs, avoiding attendants if possible - which is unlikely.
After some preparation, more so in some cases than others, you find yourselves being shown to the party. You are led down a set of grand stairs into a large ballroom and as you are announced to the assembled nobility and esteemed citizens of Sargava there is a polite round of applause as glasses are raised in your honor. Servants scurry about the room serving drinks and refreshment, while guards are stationed at every door except the one leading to a rather impressive balcony looking out towards the ocean.
The party seems to be rather exclusive, with only about fifty people in attendance. Most seem to be nobility or civil servants, but your sure that a few well off merchants and their trophy wives are also in the room. Off to one side of the large room, an exquisite buffet table with exotic fruit, meats and cheese has been laid out, next to a small group of Bards- a few people on a dance floor dancing slowly to the soft lute playing that acts as a pleasant background noise for the event. The Grand Custodian is sat at a table, deep in discussion with a well-dressed man of Chelish background. He raises a glass to you with the others, but quickly returns to the conversation at hand.
Kieran takes a little time to look around, perhaps even subconsciously marking potential targets whose pockets might prove interesting to pick, at least were he so inclined. 'Old habits die hard indeed,' he ponders, a soft bemused sigh the only indication of his thoughts.
The half-elf seems to be enjoying the sights and sounds, if his smile is any indication, a smile he seems to maintain as he approaches Tebati. "So, dear lady," he asks in a smooth voice, "what do you think of the festivities the 'colonials' have arranged? Could I interest you in partaking a little bit more? A dance perhaps? I am fairly certain this is probably going to mark the beginning of a whole new set of troubles for our merry little band, not just the ending of what we have so far endured, so we might as well enjoy ourselves, I should think."
The rogue offers his hand. "So, how about that dance? If for no reason other than curiosity about the experience?"
Stepping into the room Qhude feels more uneasy than at any other time during the day. Sneering at the attention given to him he makes for the least occupied part of the room and puts his back against a solid object. I feel as though fallen into a viper pit, fangs and venom at all sides... perhaps I should have brought my rope after all... letting the thought trail off as he attempts to ward off any approach through dour disposition alone.
As the ship sails into the harbor Jakob walks again the the after deck accompanied by the taldan. They are both carrying cutlasses.
To the Captain, his mistress, and the two crewpersons.
"As you can see we will soon be back in Elander. To be honest with you I do not know what will happen to you after we land. I have so standing with the government. I was a contestent at the trial. If you remember one of the boats produced a cloud of smoke when you started shooting. I swam from that boat and made my way here. I will have little influence on your fate.
That said I will recommend that you be treated with lieniency. Sargarva needs experienced sailors and it would be a crime to throw you away. However this whoe episode stinks of politics and just as the Shackles Pirates sent a message through you the government may want to use you to send a message back. I do not want your blood on my hands so I am allowing you the best choice I can. You can escape.
The jolly boat I hid in is still tied behind this ship. I expect a barrel of water and a box of food could make their way into it without too much trouble. It is not much and I do not know if running will increase or decrease your chance of survival. Perhaps by stressing the politics of the situtation this could all be papered over as a 'misunderstanding.' I do not know. It is up to you.
As the 'escape' will require cooperation from your former cargo I have brought my friend here as a representitive. Perhaps he will agree, perhaps not, but it is worth talking about."
Ansha feels herself blush a little at the announcement of her name and accomplishment in the Trial, but she regains her composure quickly. She smiles and waves at the audience before descending the grand staircase, an eerie feeling of deja vu accompanying her descent. Just like my debut.... she thinks, displaying a smile to a face that caught her eye--a smile that she hardly feels, given the memory.
She makes a point to mingle among the crowd, flirting with most anyone, but paying the most attention to younger nobles (men and, more subtly, women alike), deflecting questions about her signet ring or where she got her gown. Where she finds interesting conversations regarding the pirates of the Shackles, speculation about the task likely to be assigned to herself and her companions, or conversations about the state of Sargavan affairs or the "real" reason why the Trials of Grallus were called, she makes an effort to insinuate herself into the conversation.
As she does this, she is slowly working her way toward the Grand Custodian himself, until she is before his table. Patiently waiting til he acknowledges her, she toys idly with one of the living ivy vines that embroider her evening gown. When he finally acknowledges her presence, she gives him a dazzling smile. "You host an entertaining gala, Grand Custodian. I wanted to thank you for the extension of your hospitality--it's a refreshing change of pace from life in Crown's End," she says, gauging his reaction. Her gaze shifts to the Chelish man at his side, the smile still on her face, and she asks, "And who is this fine gentleman? Introduce us, won't you?"
Despite her disdain for Eleder's cosmopolitanism as compared to her home, Tebati cannot help but be somewhat cowed by the experience of being announced to the assemblage of rich strangers; in Nantambu she was never a person of any particular importance except at the shrine to Shimye-Magalla. She holds her head high as she trails down the staircase, but inwardly she is intensely aware of her feet and deathly afraid she will stumble and make a fool of herself by falling down the stairs.
When she reaches the foot of the staircase and can mix in with the crowd rather than being the center of attention, she breathes out a sigh of relief and finally takes a moment to look around the room. Her eyes light up as she spies the fresh fruit on the buffet, and she is headed in that direction when Kieran intercepts her.
She hesitates at his invitation -- the colonial music is unfamiliar to her, as are the movements of their style of dance -- but she cannot find polite words to demur, especially in this setting where he seems at home and she is so at sea. She feels her face flush as she wordlessly nods and allows him to escort her toward the dance floor. Besides, she rationalizes to herself, if we are to work together as a group beyond the colonials' games, I would do well to find out more about this man and his elf companion. Her eyes flicker over to Ansha near the Grand Custodian's table, easy to pinpoint with a knot of admirers around her. "What of your friend? Is she too busy to favor you?" She tries to keep her tone light and impersonal, but her voice wavers badly, betraying her unease.
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Not having eaten all day, N'bellocq pulls a chair up to the table laden with food. Knowing not to pass on a meal when you don't know when your next one will be, he digs in to the fruit plate.
"Ansha?" Kieran starts to answer as Tebati and he dance. "My friend seems to be enjoying herself quite nicely getting to know the various players in the little game of politics, even if at the moment that game is disguised as a gala. Who am I to deny her that? After all, what she may find out might be of use to us, yes?"
"Besides," he adds with a mischievous wink, "I am not entirely sure she is my type, or even I hers."
"And what of you and your friend, dear lady? What would your story be? I can tell a few things, I suppose," he goes on, the almost ever-present smile still on his face, "such as that you have not had any formal dance training, but there is grace about you enough that you are doing wonderfully on this dance floor as it is."
"And worry not," he finishes, "even were you to falter, I am here to catch you."
"I've danced," she answers a bit defensively, "in the manner of my own people. Not like the colonials. But you are right to say that I have not been trained to dance, not like your Ansha. I think there are many things she has been trained to do. When I dance, it is because I want to, not for applause or for money." She catches sight of N'bellocq seated at the buffet table and doesn't know whether to smile or to wince. "N'bellocq is my relative ... my kin. When I found him, we were both lost and without a home. Among my people, family takes care of its own."
Qhude continues to stand back against a wall arms crossed and uninviting.
"Family is certainly important," Kieran readily agrees. "Having been without one for quite some time, I can easily attest to that. But my time with them, when I was younger, was a good one, despite... heh... circumstances being what they were."
"So," he asks wryly, "are you dancing now because you want to or because you did not know how to say no to me politely? I promise you I will not be offended, so you may answer truthfully."
"And if you would prefer to go and keep your kin company, I am sure I can find something to pass the time, though I doubt it will be as delightful." His tone is warm, without a hint of sarcasm.
The Captain and two crew members seem hopeful at the prospect of setting off in the Jolly Boat, but the Taldan's face hardens as you make your proposal. The mistress speaks first, saying-
I was simply a slave like your companions were to be. I put my fate in your hands, sir. I'm not a pirate, don't let them hang me... with tears welling up in her eyes.
The Taldan chooses his words carefully.
Jakob, after all you have done for us, I will accept whatever decision you make; we all will. But this snake and his crew would make slaves of us and worse. I heard what they were planning to do to my Elven companion and... I do not feel they should be allowed to escape. Speak for them if you must, but let justice be done.
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Ansha weaves her way playfully through the men and women of the ball, generally receiving warmth and well wishes from them. Despite her charms however, few speak to her of anything of substance, commenting mostly on how beautiful she looks and complimenting her fine fashion sense. She does end up talking to a senior member of the Treasury and his wife and after some small talk, the Trials come up. Chuckling and a little drunk, the man tells her (before his wife proceeds to hush him and steer the conversation away from the topic)-
Well, lets just say that there were many reasons our Grand Custodian came up with the Trials- not least the state of affairs of Sargava's finances! We could barely afford the tribute to the Free Captain's last month...
Eventually, Ansha tactfully makes an exit from the couple and approaches the Grand Custodian at an opportune moment. Utilinus smiles at Ansha warmly in a paternalistic fashion and replies-
Why, it is my pleasure Ansha. You and your companions have done more for me than you know- please enjoy yourself. This is Marcellus, my assistant. But he has his orders and will take his leave now. he finishes pleasantly as the Chelish man bows and leaves the room through one of the guarded doors. Would you favor a tired, middle aged man with a dance, eternal beauty? he says smoothly.
There were slight pauses in his speech as he corrected whatever he was going to say when he said both 'Marcellus' and 'assistant'. He corrected them rather expertly though.
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N'bellocq tucks into the food eagerly, eating many delicious fruits before a husky voice talks into his ear.
A man with an healthy appetite, excellent. Now you will have lots of energy to dance with me, won't you? she says demurely. N'bellocq turns to see an attractive young colonial brunette in a beautiful white dress smiling coyly at him, a hand extended. Behind her, a small pack of young women seem to be scowling and giggling at her behind her back.
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Few approach Qhude and even less seem inclined to speak with him with so much open hostility. After several minutes though, General Morvius casually walks over leans back against the wall next to him, his armour clanking heavily against the wall behind you. He says nothing, but nods in greeting to Qhude.
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Kieran and Tebati seem to have become the immediate centre of attention upon the dance floor as they quietly converse. Both seem to dance smoothly, although they do nothing extravagant. More and more people seem to be coming over to join them.
Qhude gives a slight nod in return to the General, though does not turn to face him as he settles beside him against the wall. While not openly accepting the company, his body language does ease slightly from aggression.
Addressing the empty space in front of him, though loud enough for the General to easily overhear (Polyglot) "The Bas'o have a game that younglings play. Two are blindfolded and placed in the middle of the others who form a circle. One is the mbube (lion) the other an impala (antelope). Both are spun to disorient before being set free. The circle calls to the mbube, exhorting him to catch the impala, while the impala tries to remain un-caught."
Turning his head to regard the General directly (Polyglot) "By winning the trial, are we to be your mbube? - or are we to be released as impala to draw the attention of another?" The words are spoken flatly, as though it does not matter to Qhude if he is hunter or hunted, but he holds a level gaze at the General.
"I...," she falters, feeling her skin warm again. "I have said I do not dance for the pleasure of others, so you must assume I please myself," she recovers. "As for my cousin," she glances over at N'bellocq again, "between the table and the colonial maidens, he does not appear to be wanting for pleasures of his own." She meets Kieran's eyes for a moment with a wry smile before looking away again. "Ansha, then, is not kin to you?" she asks, eying the not-entirely-human point to his ears. "A man and a woman traveling together ... one wonders what their connection might be."
Ansha blushes and smiles at the compliment given her by the Grand Custodian. "You honor me, milord. I would be delighted to share a dance with you."
"Indeed he does not," Kieran agrees with a soft chuckle as he briefly glances towards N'bellocq as well. "And I do believe," he adds as he takes note of the young woman standing so close to the Mwangi archer, "your friend and relative is about to find himself the prey instead of the hunter, in a manner of speaking."
"As for me and Ansha," the half-elf replies, his silver eyes returning Tebati's gaze, "no, we are not kin. I am elven only on my mother's side and she was an entirely different kind of elf than my friend; my father was a human from Brevoy. Their meeting should make quite a story and one I would love to share with you once we have the time."
He pauses for a moment as he considers his next words. "And as for our connection, I can tell you for now that we have shared a bit of past, though nothing... ahem... tawdry. We are friends thanks to necessity and circumstance, but anything more on that subject will have to wait for another time. I ought to retain some of my mystery, yes? It is, after all, part of my charm." At least in part, his words are meant in jest, especially if the look he gives his dance partner is any indication.
"You know, I have just said as much, but it bears repeating. This is... enjoyable." Another brief pause as he looks around. "And I do believe it is not just me -or us, if I dare say so- that is enjoying our dance."
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.-John Masefield:
To the Taldan. "I am sure that we will all spend time talking to the authorities. Between the Shackles and the Government and the nobles putting their oar in this could become quite the nine day wonder. I am sure they will get such justice as Sargava affords. I just wish it had been possible to rescue you with out taking these people prisoner. It seems the trials were aptly named."
To the woman. "You have been very helpful and I expect that will sway the authorities towards mercy. Assuming that is that you are telling the truth about your status and activities. I am sorry but I do not expect the next few days will be pleasant for anyone on this ship.
Is there anything you want me to pass onto the authorities on your behalf?"
To the captain:
"I hope that no one is killed. Dispersed among other ships the crew at least will prove a valuable asset. They seem well trained and your catapult crews were surprisingly accurate; which makes your overall incompetence rather puzzling."
"Look at what happened. You snuck a ship this size into a port this busy and important. That alone is amazing but too do it so as to arrive during the final trial shows skill and planning of a very high order.
On the other hand. You neglect basic preparations and precautions. If this is a slave taking raid why is the ship not equipped as a slaver? Where are the manacles and the specialized hold? Your men miss items in a search and the slaves are left free in a closed hold. You even had to move cargo onto the deck to clear this hold. On top of that you stand your crew down in hostile waters. You mount a pitiful two man watch, and show lights, at night, in hostile waters. With even minimal thought this ship could have been impregnable. Instead a single man with a skeleton key and a bit of rope was able to capture it. This incompetence does not fit with the brain that managed to get you here."
"So tell me, what was your real purpose here? You did not sail into the main harbor of your ally on a slave raid. There are far better pickings in the costal plantations. I suspect the slave taking was a private attempt to increase your profit on this trip. So you had another reason. The mistaken belief that you could aid your team in the trial? To send a message?
If you are expecting rescue from the Shackles I should think it would better serve their interests to publicly disown you as a 'rogue element' and wash their hands of you. It sends the message that the Sargavan nation is vulnerable while not risking a major incident. Mind you if this is true then their next step would be to kill you to prevent what you know from getting out. Your best bet for long term survival may be to sing loud and long and to as many people as you can. Once the cat is out of the bag so to speak the value in killing you is outweighed by the risk. At least that is how I see it.
Now before we arrive, is there anything you want to tell me?"
Once the conversation is over Jacob will head to the Captain's Quarters and take careful look for any papers or other things of interest. Particularly the magic auras he noted earelier.
Tebati glances around the dance floor as well and is glad to see other couples beginning to dance around them, making them less conspicuous. "Do you think the Grand Custodian is planning another speech? 'Only by looking beyond the boundaries of race and tribal affiliation can Sargavans truly dance together?'" she jokes. "Ah! It looks as if he is taking his own advice and providing an example of his nation's true greatness. Your Ansha has tempted him onto the floor." She returns the subject to Kieran. "Brevoy? That is on the northern continent, is it not? Is the climate there really so inhospitable that you all find your way so readily to Garund?"
N'bellocq drops his fork when he turns and see the woman and her extended hand. He gets nervously to his feet, his dark complexion hiding most of his blush. "Me?...Um..you have me at a bit of a tight bend Miss..." and he leans in a bit closer, but looking out at Kieran and Tebati gracefully crossing the floor. "You don't want to dance with me, I don't know these city..moves. Anything I know would be a bit...more tribal."
"Heh," Kieran chuckles at Tebati's joke. "Careful now, I may start to believe that there is oh so much more to you than your usually more stern and business-like attitude," the rogue quips, his tone teasing, yet friendly.
"I did tell you Ansha was doing just fine, did I not? And as far as I can tell, she is one used to having men do her bidding, one way or the other, and she is rather good at it."
As he is once again questioned about himself and his past, the half-elf seems all too eager to answer the woman's questions. "I would not call it inhospitable, I suppose, but Brevoy is a difficult place to get used to, I will give you that. Especially when one has not grown up there. I was born in Varisia, you see, and it was not until I was a little older that I found myself to Brevoy. I cannot say I did not have a good time there," he says, sounding perhaps a little wistful, "but one might say I... overstayed my welcome. And once I returned to my birthplace, I found noo... nothing there waiting for me. Next thing I knew, after a few brief stops along the way of course, here I was, in Sargava."
"And since we are so interested in each other and our stories, what about you? What is it like where you were born? And have you not wanted to travel? As far as I am concerned, there must be so much wonder and adventure out there! Quite the temptation!"
Tebati shakes her head slightly in bemusement as Kieran discusses the differences between Varisia and Brevoy. Distinctions between such places she has only heard as names mean nothing to her; when she envisions Avistan, she pictures a featureless plain buried in ice and snow. When he asks about Nantambu, however, her eyes light up as enthusiasm blossoms over her face. "If you had ever seen Nantambu, you would understand why no one would ever wish to leave it. We live in peace both within our walls and with the tribes without; our markets are full of fresh fruit and meat from the jungle tribes and the fish my people take from the river; everywhere is light and beauty and color." Her smile fades. "I would never have left there of my own volition."
"Ah, this discussion has chased the smile from your face, dear lady," Kieran notes with a hint of sadness. "We cannot have that now, can we? Let us leave such things for another time perhaps. In the here and the now, we are supposed to be having at least a bit of fun. So how about? Since you are dancing to please yourself, let us do our best to do just that."
"Trust me?" The two words are but a whisper accompanied by a wry look and an almost imperceptible shrug as the half-elf looks into Tebati's eyes, as if he is saying that it is probably a lot to ask considering the little time the woman has known him. Still, he asks it nevertheless, right before he picks up the pace just a little, so to speak. The dance is still slow, following the music, but Kieran adds just a bit of 'flavor' to the steps and figures, though nothing that could be considered too flashy or too intricate, making sure his Mwangi partner can follow.
You get the impression that the woman is telling the truth and truly is a slave herself, or one step higher perhaps. The Taldan shrugs in an uncomitted manner.
I'll leave it up to you Jakob. I'm going to make sure the crew aren't getting suspicious.
The Captain listens to Jakob's reasoning wordlessly, but gives little away with his expression.
Your in over your head, boy. This won't end well for you, getting mixed up in this. is all he says, clamming up and refusing to say more. You get the impression hes still expecting to be able to get out of this situation, or possibly that he plans to use any information he has as a bargaining chip.
Looking over the Captain's room carefully, you find nothing to give you a clue as to the ship's purpose here- until by chance you notice one of the floorboards near the door is loose. Opening it, you find the Captain's stash; a small purse of platinum coins, a handwritten letter written in some kind of cipher and a beautifully carved cane with an emerald set into the handle. By almost pure chance, you notice that inside it is a cleverly concealed sword.
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The Grand Custodian bows and takes Ansha's hand as many other government officials look on in surprise. The middle aged man leads the Elf to the dance floor and dances slowly with her, but very well, in time to the music and even moving gracefully. While holding her close as part of the dance, he whispers to her-
So, tell me dear, how did one such as you end up in Crown's End?
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The demure woman smiles at N'bellocq, her resolve not fading.
I was counting on it... she whispers to him slowly in response, her voice husky and a hint of a grin forming on her pretty face.
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The General doesn't respond for a few seconds and seems to be lost in thought. Eventually he replies in Polyglot-
Right now, you are the mbube. You were already the impala. In time, you may instead become a master of the game rather than a participant. But first, you will undertake the task that many of my men have died trying to accomplish. After seeing your group of companions today, I think you have a fighting chance.
After the General responds Qhude nods and turns back to regard the party once more. (Polyglot) "Good, I prefer running forward than back." his words have a finality to them that implies he isn't inquisitive about the details.
Looking out at the reception he spies that Kieran and Tebati are dancing, as are Ansha and the Custodian; even N'Bellocq is under feminine assault. His face is tinged with sadness a few moments, and he touches his amulet with his left hand.
Morvius seems to notice your expression.
You could easily join in the fun, Qhude. A lion does not need to isolate himself to remainstrong.
A slight smile at the corner of his mouth (Polyglot) "Are you asking me to dance Induna?"
The General laughs-
No, but i'm suggesting I could find us both dancing partners.
Qhude traces a finger across the scars on his chest with his right hand (Polyglot) "I only know one dance Induna, and I do not think it welcome here. Besides, are not the kin present more interested in whitening their skin?"
You seem to have touched a nerve with the General, who stays silent for some time, his eyes ablaze. When he speaks, his voice is still easy and natural though, although hes clearly making an effort to remain so.
Three weeks ago, the 'white' ladies were trying on some ceremonial Mwangi robes shown to them by Mwangi nobility. I myself, have taken a Chelish name but that does not mean I have forgotten my people. I truly believe in what Utilinus is striving for- a nation where the distinction between Mwangi and non-Mwangi can become smaller every day. But our people have to extend our hand to meet theirs in the middle- there cannot be two skies.
Continuing on the same line of conversation, the pitch of Qhude's voice is neutral though no less strident (Polyglot) "If what you say is truth, please point out which of these colonial have taken a name of the Mwangi? When you talk of extending a hand to them, I see nothing of them attempting the same."
Shaking his head "I know not much of Eleder Induna, I am recently of Kalabuto. Perhaps here the black and white blend to grey, but the contrast is still stark there." Qhude's left hand reaches up to touch his amulet "We learned of that the hard way" I wonder what father would say of me now, among the nobles so far from the plains of our people.
Opening up a little to the military man "In truth I know not to which family I can belong. I have been cast out by the Bas'o and there is no welcome among the Chelish of Kalabuto. All that I would call family are dead. I survive only through the strength of my arm."
The Grand Custodian bows and takes Ansha's hand as many other government officials look on in surprise. The middle aged man leads the Elf to the dance floor and dances slowly with her, but very well, in time to the music and even moving gracefully. While holding her close as part of the dance, he whispers to her-
So, tell me dear, how did one such as you end up in Crown's End?
...
"'One such as I,' milord?" Ansha replies softly, deflecting the question as amusement dances in her eyes. "Perhaps I was born among the Forlorn there, living among smugglers and only recently finding a way out. Or perhaps I am a bard, here to see new sights and experience new things. Or perhaps I am a wayward daughter of Kyonin, an elflady in exile."
She draws away from him in the course of the dance, glancing about the room and noting with a measure of pride the attention she and the Custodian are drawing. Only when the dance brings the two closer again does she continue, her voice low. "No, I am none of those things. What I am, dear Utilinus--may I call you that?--is yours for the evening."
She meets his gaze with a smile full of promises.
You've spent what, twenty minutes in the palace leaning against a wall and you think your qualified to judge whether the descendants of Cheliax extend a hand to us too? Morvius asks, serious scepticism written into his voice.
Well... coming from Kalabuto, I can understand your attitude, somewhat. When I was your age, it was a struggle to even be allowed to earn honest coin as a Mwangi. Now look at all I have accomplished. Things in Sargava are getting better for us all the time.
He listens as you make your last statement and then clenches your forearm in a warrior's grip.
Your not alone Qhude. Sargava welcomes you with open arms and I hope in time you'll come to call me your friend. Now forgive me, I must mingle for a time.
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The Grand Custodian bows and takes Ansha's hand as many other government officials look on in surprise. The middle aged man leads the Elf to the dance floor and dances slowly with her, but very well, in time to the music and even moving gracefully. While holding her close as part of the dance, he whispers to her-
So, tell me dear, how did one such as you end up in Crown's End?
..."'One such as I,' milord?" Ansha replies softly, deflecting the question as amusement dances in her eyes. "Perhaps I was born among the Forlorn there, living among smugglers and only recently finding a way out. Or perhaps I am a bard, here to see new sights and experience new things. Or perhaps I am a wayward daughter of Kyonin, an elflady in exile."
She draws away from him in the course of the dance, glancing about the room and noting with a measure of pride the attention she and the Custodian are drawing. Only when the dance brings the two closer again does she continue, her voice low. "No, I am none of those things. What I am, dear Utilinus--may I call you that?--is yours for the evening."
She meets his gaze with a smile full of promises.
Utilinus chuckles softly into your ear.
An excellent deflection, young madam... he whispers, putting emphasis on the two words. Just enough information to not tease but with very little substance; and then using your charms to put me at ease. Have you considered a career in politics?
He twirls you around to the lute playing, and continues. Still, we have not yet known each other for very long and i'm hardly revealing all of my cards yet either am I...? Yes, you may call me that dear...
Jakob smiles at the captain. "I expect you are right but when you are in over your head what can you do but try to swim?"
Leaving the purse and cane in the stash Jakob tucks the letter into his boot.
Jakob heads to the foredeck and leans on the leading rail, taking some time to feel the breeze and watch the city form from the evening mist.
The captain was right I am in over my head. I thought I could manage the trial, play the deeper game, but I can't. There are too many intrests, too many conflicts, and so much blood. That bolt.
Did I rescue the teams only to doom the crew? Is that a net gain or is it just what is. I wish I understood more. I don't even know if I am still in the trial or if the team will have me back even if they can. Or to be honest if I even want back in the trial.
Jakob watches the sea. His face wet with spray or tears.
Still unsure of herself and doing her best to copy the steps of the Sargavan dancers, Tebati is taken by surprise by Kieran's sudden innovation. She stumbles in his arms, and only his support keeps her from falling. Her skin hot with embarrassment, she quickly regains her footing and steps back out of the dance. "I have told you I do not dance to win the applause of others. If you wish an audience to admire you, you will have to find another partner." She turns and moves quickly over to the buffet table, giving the colonial woman propositioning N'bellocq an unfriendly glare. Moments ago, she would have counseled him to accept the invitation, but now she is in no mood to see another Mwangi put in a position to be humiliated. She walks up and puts her hand on his arm in a possessive manner, still staring down the young woman. "Good evening, cousin," she says in Polyglot. "How handsome you look."
Seeing Tebati's manner as she comes off the dance floor gives N'bellocq a greater sense of hesitation.
As his eyes go between his cousin and the colonial woman and back again, nothing comes out of his mouth. Finally a gentle tug from the colonial woman sets his mouth to working again and the sure sign's to Tebati's eyes of a blush..."Oh the clothes? Apparently I get them by staying in that washing room. Umm..but this woman here asked me to dance...And I can't dance...THAT...but I think she wants something more that we could dance to. Do you think those musicians would know something a bit more local?"
Tebati glances at the group of bards to see if any of them are of Mwangi blood. "It is worth asking," she replies grimly in Polyglot. "After all, the Grand Custodian did say that Sargava's strength was not in the colonials' ways alone but in celebrating the culture of the Mwangi as well. Let them emulate our ways for a change." Seizing N'bellocq's hand, she leads him toward the musicians, hopefully leaving the knot of colonial girls behind.
N'bellocq only has time to give a helpless shrug as Tebati starts to pull him away.
Ansha's lips are curved into a near-perpetual smile as the dance continues, and she laughs lightly at the suggestion of a life in politics. A more cunning opponent in the game than I am used to, aren't we? I will have to be a bit more careful, then, she thinks. "I wouldn't dream of asking you to reveal anything, my lord. I am content to simply enjoy your company for the evening," she says. Silence reigns between them for several moments before she adds, "Tell me, dear Utilinus, how does such a gentleman as yourself not have a lady of high birth draped over his arm already? Surely the burden of leadership is lighter with another at one's side."
Kieran takes a moment to recover, his apologetic look lost on Tebati having already walked away from him and heading towards N'bellocq and the colonial woman. "Hmm, feisty," is all the half-elf mutters as he picks up a glass of wine from a servant's tray and finds a comfortable seat. He does take care to find one with a clear view of the room, so he is able to keep track of his various companions as best he can.
'I should remember to have a talk with her as soon as the chance presents itself,' the rogue thinks, as he takes a sip of wine and glances towards Tebati, already in the process of seemingly dragging a helpless N'bellocq along and approaching the musicians. 'For now, however, I believe I will keep a safe enough distance.'
Qhude accepts the forearm handshake and clasps the General upon the shoulder of his armor with his other hand. Nodding as Morvius departs to his mingling Qhude is left with his thoughts. Sighing Am I Bas'o any longer? I wear my scars, but I do not run with the warriors. How am I to know which lodge to enter when all seem barred to my passage. Glancing towards the balcony, Qhude rises to stride outside where he might get some air.
However partway across the room, he spies a quizzical sight - N'Bellocq being cajoled toward the musicians by an insistent Tebati. Head tilted in confusion he makes eye contact with Kieran and offers a questioning gesture with his hands and a shrug of his shoulders as though asking if he knew aught of what was to transpire...