The man nods but maintains an impassive expression on his face. As the song and dance Alis is leading comes to its conclusion, he looks towards the dancers and calls out, "Aiieee hyup, hyup!"
Like a flock of birds, the dancers and musicians swirl around Priyya, Mal, Alis, and Lureene in a broad, loosely defined circle. The man then calls out, "Our sister from across the sea, and her associate bear a letter requesting our aid. Sister also looks for one called Yvonne d'Calla..."
There is some murmuring among the crowd and one of the men calls out, "It is yet early in the season and many of us have only just arrived. Since you say it is from someone of importance, we will see your letter. Know that we serve many but call none master. We will need to confer after our fashion to see if we will help or if business calls us elsewhere."
One of the belly-dancers steps up in front of Mal and bends at the knees into a sort of curtsy with her right hand upraised to receive the letter, and the other flung behind her. Her dark, long-lashed eyes gaze up at him expectantly though she speaks not a word.
Mal notices as Alis gives him a nod to hand over the letter.
"Know that we serve many but call none master."
Priyya smiles, understanding these folk well. "None command the wind or sand as my people say. We ask for your help - nothing more. The decision is yours."
His attention never straying from the closest member of the pack surrounding them, Mal slowly retrieves the letter buying himself additional time to take in the scents surrounding him. Horses, sweat, perfume, lamp oil, crushed grass, the scent of dirt and dust from a long road, and... a fox?
The big warrior hands over the letter to the lithe dancer. No sooner does it brush her fingertips than does she tumble backwards, cartwheeling off her left hand. A few of the men and a couple of the dancers, including the pale one, inspect the seal. After a moment, they crack open the seal, their dark eyes scanning over Countess Rowan's script.
One of the dancers asks, "You said you had business with someone called Yvonne? Did you have a message for her in case we know this person?"
It's like trying to have a conversation with a cloud of butterflies! Mal thinks as he waits for Priyya to produce the card given her by the Countess.
Priyya looks discerningly at the dancer. "I bear a fate card and a spoken message. I will reveal neither publicly. I was told to deliver them to Lady Yvonne personally... and either I will do that or fail and return them to the sender unanswered." Her posture makes it clear, Priyya will say no more of the matter.
Sense Motive Checks:
One of the other dancers narrows her eyes and responds, "And how should you recognize this Yvonne if none of us do?"
One of the other dancers narrows her eyes and responds, "And how should you recognize this Yvonne if none of us do?"
"You have two choices. You can either weigh all that I have said, decide I am no threat, and direct me to the Lady in question. You already have more than enough information to guess who sent me." She nods at the letter Mal presented earlier. "OR you can refuse to help me and, as I have said, I will fail and return my messages undelivered to the one who sent me."
"What is NOT going to happen here, under any circumstance, is me publicly sharing a private message. Ever. The choice is yours." Despite her studiously neutral expression, Priyya's corona has markedly increased in brightness. She is clearly in a mood.
The somewhat taller, green-eyed dancer with the ivory complexion holds up her hand and says, "No need for raised voices, my friends."
She holds up the countess' letter and continues, "I think there are some of us who can help you with your itinerary. Come. Let us retire to inside the house and discuss business."
With that, the woman takes up a cream-colored shawl and wraps it about herself against the cool spring air. As she leads you inside, the other gypsies put up their instruments and set about their morning chores.
Inside the compound's outer walls, you find vast stables with scores of stalls. There is also a circular yard for training new mounts and room enough for a over a dozen large wagons. A sturdily built warehouse stands further back and while there are no obvious guards posted by the doors, every now and then you catch shapes flitting in the long morning shadows.
The raven-tressed dancer leads you up a short flight of stone steps and into the foyer of an old but well-cared for house. While not large enough to be considered a mansion. The two-story, building is constructed of fine masonry with thick eastern rugs covering the tongue-oiled wooden floors, and tall windows with thick velvet curtains. With a motion of her hand towards some over-stuffed couches, she says, "Please, be seated."
The woman herself takes her seat in a high-backed leather chair behind an ebony desk bedecked with curios from many distant lands.
As the group of you enter the well-appointed abode, Alis slips up next to Priyya and whispers, "I've seen other nobles do stuff like this before. I'm pretty sure that 'message' isn't a message at all but rather a pass-phrase to validate our identities, not theirs."
Priyya looks sharply, "Then it would have been polite of your Aunt to mention that. At this point, I'm disposed to walk all the way to Malatesta."
Alis holds up her hands in apology, "Dunno. Although she did manage to entice me into coming along so..."
She shrugs and sits down beside her fiery-tempered friend. "Look on the bright side, it looks like you've gained us an audience with someone of importance."
Mal, upon entering the room, crouches down next to the entrance in his usual coiled stance, forearms resting on knees, weight on the balls of his feet. A soft throaty rumble calls Talvyra over, who stretches out in front of him, eyes locked on the unusual woman.
Through an effort of will Priyya makes herself sit down. She's in a mood to stalk the floor and glare. She settles for letting her corona do the talking... although only Felmor is sufficiently familiar with the nuances of her moods to distinguish ghostly flames of happiness from ectoplasmic wisps of irritation. Nevertheless, she 'wisps' like it is a new fashion trend, feeling somewhat better for the incomprehensible display.
She smiles to herself, this must be how Mal felt after the party. All dressed up and no one to kill...
Lureene is a little bit tired after her dancing exhebition and says nothing, just trying to catch her breath. She does nod at the subterfuge by the Countess, having run across this before in her days with a gang.
She looks over at Priyya, and sees her tension flowing from her body in the form of her corona. Not sure the exact meaning of the flames, she elects to sit down next to Priyya and just watch and observe at this point, waiting for the arrival of Yvonne. She had a feeling they had already seen her...
The woman has another long look at the letter from Corrina and makes a few notes. "This says that there are five of you traveling to Malatesta, but I count only four. It also says that you need to be in that citybbefore one cycle of the moon has passed and with my family handling all of the arrangements for cargo, shelter, food, and security This is correct, yes?"
"She speaks of Traker?"
Lureene nods at the Corporal, also noting the subtle flush that shows on Priyya's cheeks. "Yes, Mal. Mister Traker is traveling with us."
"Either that or Talvyra isn't being counted. Personally, I'd say we are a party of six." She inclines her head to the large cat.
"So, I assume my message is meant for you - whether you are or are not Lady Yvonne d'Calla." Despite her desire to carelessly toss the card, Priyya places the card gently on the desk and says, "The ardent youth climbs the precipice seeking the light of the old sage."
Her task complete, Priyya sits back down, seemingly happy to remain silent.
"Either that or Talvyra isn't being counted. Personally, I'd say we are a party of six." She inclines her head to the large cat.
"Ha! Now you risk bloating Little Sisters already significant ego. She'll be eating with a fork and wearing bows to court next."
The woman smiles as Priyya notes the correct number. When the warrior-priestess gives the sign that identifies her as a genuine associate of the countess, she finally allows herself a small sigh of relief.
"Bajala," she calls out.
A middle-aged man short and sturdy like the rest with a neatly trimmed black goatee step in from around the corner. He moves with the silent grace of a cat and you can tell by the man scars and scratches on his bare chest and limbs that he perhaps learned to fight from them as well.
He keeps his gaze respectfully lowered towards the ground, yet you get the sense that he's never-the-less able to keep a careful eye on all of you just the same.
The pale woman continues, "Pick four of our best and most trusted brothers, and an equal number of our sisters. These are family friends and we must travel with haste. Go to the countess' estate with all due haste and oversee the careful handling of all that our friends will require. Peace in distant Dafar rests on our young minstrel's shoulders."
Without a word, the man extends his hand whereupon his mistress lays in his palm a card similar to the one Priyya carried here. "Those whose pride leads them beyond their reach fall before the scrutiny of Heaven."
Once Bajala has left, it is only moments before you hear mean, horses and carriages being mustered outside with great alacrity. Seemingly more at-ease than before, a faint smile touches the dancer's lips, "Please forgive our cautious apprehension of you. There are many in this world who would try to abuse the names and stations of those with good intentions, many who would seek to use our keys to open doors best left closed. d'Calla is my clan and I am known as Yvonne, but Lady is a title I will neither claim nor refute."
She curls her feet up beneath her where she sits and gazes for a while at Alis. "If not for that I heard of her fate, I would swear Elyssia of Clan Rowan sits before me as I saw her last..."
Lureene gives the Lady Y'vonne a nod of acknowledgement, "You do not need to apologize for your caution. I, for one, have not proven myself worthy of trust. Although the Princess Alis and the Countess will vouch for me, this does not mean trust should be doled out without due consideration."
"Ha! Now you risk bloating Little Sister's already significant ego..."
Priyya smiles, "Hush! I'm trying to warm her up enough to allow me to scratch her ears. If feeding her ego works, I'll take it."
Mal responds to Priyya, but he's clearly distracted by something about this woman, "Oh, it's working alright. If there's one thing she loves it's an ego-boost."
Without taking his full attention from their hostess, Mal engages in a rumbling conversation with Talvyra, and punctuates it with a low bark of a laugh at the end.
The hunting cat breaks from her wary study of the room to respond in a throaty and vexed-sounding growl.
Then she stands up and crosses in front of the crouching warrior to sit in front of Priyyas legs, non-challantly whacking Mals face with a swipe of her tail on the way by.
"You knew my mother?" There's not really any surprise in Alis' question. Little surprise that an 'old friend' of Corrina would also know her older sister.
A look that speaks volumes passes between Mal and Talvyra, and he nods.
"Your sister and you were not born yet I think. It maybe could have been before she met your father actually."
Yvonne's sharp green eyes give Malandraenas an appraising look. She purses her lips for a moment and then kneels before Talvyra allowing the great cat to smell her palm.
Mal watches the interplay between the woman and Little Sister. It seems we share a suspicion regarding this one.
Without rising or taking his eyes from the woman, Mal speaks quietly but bluntly, "I've little knowledge of your people, Yvonne d'Calla. Do you all share a common heritage?" He raises a clawed finger out of his long sleeve to scratch at an imaginary itch on his cheek - hopefully giving his question a level of depth she will understand.
Talvyra sniffs at the woman's hand once, then rests back on her haunches once again.
The green-eyed beauty gives Mal an enigmatic smile. "In my troupe, many of us are Setenbori-descended. Yet the bonds of the road, those are the ties that are stronger. Many generations ago, Gelriss Sawng (you many have heard him called), he was our founder. Yet he was no Setenbori. Instead on his many travels, a beautiful woman did he meet there, one who joined him in his travels. Such is our way. We find mates, receive children, as Karmëa whims it. Sometimes we stay, othertimes we are joined. Never do we forget a friend. Maybe you would say that we are many peoples, maybe none." She shrugs, "All that matters is we are family and you are friends. Perhaps maybe you would like to discuss cultures and of different lands more? It is good for friends to have understanding, yes?"
I never was good at this subtlety thing… Mal thinks as he switches tactics, his blunt manner coming to the fore.
Lureene speaks up quietly, in a voice marred with emotions, "I, for one, am honored you call me friend, Yvonne. Friends are a rare and treasured commodity where I grew up."
Yvonne seems to consider Lureene's words carefully before gazing at everyone in the room in turn as if seeing something other than just your physical appearances.
"It seems that there is a commonality shared by each of us," she pauses and runs her fingers thru Talvyra's fur, scratching behind her ears, "except perhaps for your noble sister, friend Malandraenas. Each of us, others might try to label, to pin down and discern what we are by our parentage. Yet I can see that among us, it is not the blood but the will that impels you. Tell me, your sixth friend, this Felmor, what kind of a being is he to you?"
Priyya tries to keep up with the oblique conversation and realises something is passing between Yvonne and Mal, but is unclear exactly what that is. Predators sniffing around each other?
Priyya corona changes from wisps to small flames as Talvyra sits in front of her. She is thrilled at the cat's warming attitude. She is so enthralled by the cat's presence she almost misses Yvonne's question...
"Tell me, your sixth friend, this Felmor, what kind of a being is he to you?"
Priyya laughs, "Felmor is human and a reluctant hero.... but a hero nonetheless."
You hear Mal's breath catch as Yvonne reaches to scratch Talvyra's fur. People have lost hands doing that. But he's surprised at Little Sister's reaction as she indifferently allows the woman's touch on her fur.
Then he continues Priyya's thought, "And he's a sailor and a warrior, apparently. He should really enjoy the long horse-ride along your roads."
Hearing Mal's sharp intake of breath, Yvonne dips her head to Mal and speaks whether to the ranger or the panther, you are not certain. "Forgive me, we have only just met..."
She removes her hand from Talvyra's head and instead folds her hands in her lap.
"Some people have made the mistake of assuming Talvyra is my pet... none have made it twice." he says with a grin. "She tends to be... prideful. Is there anything else you would have from us as payment for your people's help in our travels?"
Talvyra's eyes, while not unfriendly, certainly don't appear any friendlier as the hand is pulled back. She sits stoically where she was, at Priyya's feet, tail swishing slowly back and forth.
Priyya marvels at the hunting cat sitting at her feet. She is close enough to feel Talvyra's body heat. She makes no move to touch the cat but watches her with keen interest, noting the over-sized paws. "Mal, how big will Talvyra get? She doesn't seem to have grown into her paws yet.. but perhaps that is typical for her wondrous breed."
"While she won't get quite as big as a horse, she won't be shy by much." He looks over at their hostess, "Well, maybe the same size as one of their little horses."
He pauses for a moment then says under his breath, "Come to think of it I might need to come up with a new nick name for her at that point."
Lureene watches the interplay between Priyya and the interesting duo of Mal and Talvyra. Seemingly forgotten by the others, she uses the time to practice a meditation technique she learned from Rath-hun. It was nothing fancy, and she doubted anything more focused would succeed in helping her focus here. She glances at Alis but sees her lost in thought, going down memory lame, perhaps. Since her mother had beem mentioned earlier by Yvonne, Lureene tried very hard not to think of her own mother.
"I, for one, am honored you call me friend, Yvonne. Friends are a rare and treasured commodity where I grew up."
"When making a meal, if you start with food that is already spoiled, can it ever be so wholesome as compared to starting with food that is good? Lives are too fleeting to live without sincerity. In your dance, passion that was real did I see. Even among strangers, that you did not hide."
"Felmor is human and a reluctant hero.... but a hero nonetheless."
"And he's a sailor and a warrior, apparently. He should really enjoy the long horse-ride along your roads."
Yvonne nods thoughtfully at your description of Felmor and she rises and returns to her seat. "Always does the world have a need for heroes. I think perhaps reluctant ones are the truest sort. They act neither for love of carnage nor for glory."
"As for our journey, I would not begrudge a man," she pauses and glances at the unusually quiet Alis, "or a woman their love for the sea. Nor would I begrudge a hunter their hound or a knight their steed. We all form bonds that others might not share. There is no delight in the breaking of such bonds, only sorrow and longing."
She sighs softly as she sits down, "It is unfortunate that it is thru the malice of others that we are introduced. Violence begets violence even when it is for the goal of waging peace that my friend sends you to us..."
Priyya regards the mysterious gypsy woman with earnestness, "It is the irony of our age that, at times, to achieve peace you must be willing to fight for it."
"When making a meal, if you start with food that is already spoiled, can it ever be so wholesome as compared to starting with food that is good? Lives are too fleeting to live without sincerity. In your dance, passion that was real did I see. Even among strangers, that you did not hide."
Lureene nods and replies quietly, "I was counseled by one wiser than myself, to never deny who you are, and yet continue to strive to be something better than you are." She unconsciously strokes her ring on her left hand while speaking. "He said this is an important part of growing as a person."