Logs:Edyis and the Holder Conclave
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| RL Date: 10 December, 2013 |
| Who: Aughan, Edyis, Elani, Ienavi, Lala |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The Holder Conclave is held during Keroon's gather. Edyis tries to get in on the action. |
| Where: Keroon Hold |
| When: Day 28, Month 6, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Tevrane/Mentions |
| Storyteller: K'del/ST |
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| The convenient thing about Conclaves is that they're usually timed to happen alongside gathers, and so it's no difficulty at all to get a ride: there's always someone eager to head out to a gather to enjoy the sights and sounds. Keroon has pulled out all the stops for today's event: the banners are waving in a gentle morning breeze, the feast tables are well under way, and there are stalls, runner races, and entertainments a plenty. While most people enjoy themselves out in the courtyard and in the gather grounds, the Lords and Ladies of Pern gather in Lord Keroon's official chambers for their meeting, while those unlucky enough to have to work carry out their duties. The Hold itself is built into the mountain like so many others, with two large doors leading in to the main hall, presently open, if flanked by guards. A breath is sucked in deep, and it is entirely possible that the young scribe-in-training is shaking a little as she makes her way from the landing area. A pause before one of the mirrors hanging in the glassmaker's stall lets her know she looks the part. Who knew that the old green linen gather dress she'd found in the store rooms would get used so soon? Her hair had been carefully braided and pinned up, in customary style for a serving girl attending her lady at a gather. Her eyes study the entry to the hold proper cautiously, and she ticked off everything she could remember about the blooded families. She could try flirting, but having not yet learned the ways of the world, it could go worse than if she tried an outright lie to get in. If only she had thought to check the stores for an exceptional wine - that was it. There had to be a vintner about, selling his wears. It didn't have to be good wine if she could just dose it properly with fellis. Well cross that bridge when you come to it. There is a vintner nearby, and scuttlebutt suggests his wine is particularly terrible... which is why it's being sold so cheaply, and why he has so few customers hanging about. But perhaps there's not even a need for that: a woman a handful of turns older than Edyis sweeps past, well-dressed enough to be a woman of means, with a train of young women in pretty dresses arrayed behind her. "I need my parasol," complains the woman, irritably, presumably at her ladies. "The yellow one. Lord Benden's granddaughter has a blue one, and I saw Lord Nerat's son admiring her, and--" "Shall I send someone to fetch it, my lady? I'm sure half the Hold is out here, and there must be someone..." When opportunity knocks, It is almost too good to be true, but it is either this or stay outside and wait for news as to how the conclave progresses. There's only a moment of hesitation before, she turns with her most charming smile. "If you are in need of someone to fetch the parasol, I'd be happy to offer my services, I'm quite quick and it would be a great honor to serve an esteemed lady in any small way." The curtsey is well practiced, and the words addressed to ladies rather than the woman herself, hopefully the proper amount of humility and charm blended together. "Where is the item located?" Normally, the very idea of sending an unknown girl into the Hold to fetch anything would be entirely out of the question... but this is a gather, and it's clear that none of this woman's entourage want to leave the celebratory atmosphere of the grounds to fetch anything. Their first reaction is one of hesitation, though the lady herself is already looking elsewhere, meandering ahead: she has made her request, and clearly she doesn't much care how it gets handled. "I think I've seen her before..." murmurs one of the women. "In the kitchens?" "Mmm, perhaps. Well. If it keeps lady Elani happy-- it's upstairs, in our lady's quarters. You'll know where they are. The guards will let you in. Quickly, now. We have high hopes of an offer, today." Edyis schools her expression into one of elation and girlish cheer. "Oh my, Yes of course I must hurry then, It wouldn't due for my lady Elani to be caught without her Parasol, not with Benden's granddaughter about." She tried to tinge the inflection in such a way as to suggest the rival in matrimony couldn't possibly stand a chance, but the errand would be dealt with more urgently all the same. As soon as it is polite to depart her skirts are lifted, but not improperly so and she hastens up the stairs suddenly grateful of all Jeroman's countless errands all over the damned weyr. She forces the confidence with which she attempts to stride past the guards, imagining herself to be walking into the doors of Esvay Hold herself. The most vocal of Elani's ladies gives Edyis an approving nod, but doesn't wait to see her leave-- Elani is already approaching the staff of one of the smiths, admiring some of his finely crafted hairpieces, and what choice do the others have but to follow? Unsurprisingly, the guards are sharply at attention when Edyis approaches, two of them reaching to block the way forward. "The Conclave is in progress," says one of them, a man of about thirty with dark hair and solemn eyes. "No one is permitted to enter." Edyis rolls her eyes. "Do you really want to deal with mi'lady Elani if she doesn't get her yellow parasol, and as a result looses the attentions of Lord Nerat's son Vieris? What is your name? I will be happy to let her know exactly which of you was eager to thwart her in such an advantageous match." Stern as she can manage. The guards hesitate. "They said no one--" "But Elani--" "Do you really want her breathing down your neck?" All of them turn to study Edyis, as if a simple glance can determine for absolute certain the solution to this particular problem. "You're not one of her ladies." Edyis frowns, eyes downcast and her voice growing quite small. "And I never will be, not if I botch this up. Haven't you guys ever dreamed of having a better job?" The confidence in her stance melts a way ever so slightly, big brown eyes peering up from underneath dark lashes. "If I don't fetch that parasol I'll probably be scouring pots and pans for the rest of my life." Her voice is kept small but she avoids melodrama. Rather there is a fragile hope carried in that sweet soprano voice. More exchanged glances, but now, the guards seem distinctly torn-- on the edge of giving in, perhaps? Then, abruptly, the dark haired man sighs, and withdraws his bulk from the doorway. "Don't tell anyone we let you in, mind," he warns. "And be quick about it. With luck, today will be a success on all fronts." The way clear, the great hall beckons. It's not much like Esvay, of course: the hall is grand and cavernous, full of fine tapestries and heavy, beautifully made tables, with a dais at the far end. Several passages lead off in various directions on this level; a grand staircase leads upwards, to the floor above. "Death first sir!" She chirps her expression genuinely warm and bright as she moves past the guards with adolescent eagerness. There isn't time to slow down, and the danger of staring awestruck at the tapestries propels her forward, up the stairs in the presumed direction of Lady Elani's room. It's only when the guards are no longer watching that she steals a glance. One day Edyis. She tells herself while trying to figure out which way the conclave would be and decide if the Parasol would be a useful prop or not. Upstairs, the passage is wide and expensively carpeted; it's probably still too public to be where private quarters would be, but it's entirely possible that one of the decorative doors down here leads in to a formal meeting room. But which one? Where? For now, the corridor is quiet, though enough of the glows are lit to suggest that it's far from abandoned. Directly ahead, another staircase leads further upwards, parting into two sets of stairs that wind back around towards the upper level. Small and shaking a little with the weight of what she has accomplished so far, dark eyes close for a few brief moments forcing the pupils to compensate for the dark. When Edyis reopens them the world seems just a little bit brighter, and she studies the carpet for signs of wear, and the mark of footprints. There's also a quick check of her own slippers to ensure they aren't tracking dust from the gather grounds everywhere. No turning back now. "Who's there?" It's a little voice, female, and coming from above. From the staircase? "Who are you and what are you doing?" "I should ask the same of you little bird." The Nabolese woman recovers, somewhat startled, eyes darting to the staircase. "Didn't you want to go to the gather with everyone else?" There is a face there: a little girl, peering between the railings with big dark eyes that are a little wide and wary, but also terribly, terribly curious. "No," she says, shortly. "Lani said I wasn't to embarrass her, and papa is busy, and mama..." She pauses, and then her chin lifts into the air. "I'd rather stay here. What are you doing?" Edyis smiles, relieved that it is only a child and not a servant. "You want to know the truth?" The tone is a conspiratorial one, as she moves to better look at the little girl. "It's very boring." The tone suggests quite the opposite of course. "You probably wouldn't want to play. No you probably wouldn't." The young woman taps her chin looking from the carpet to the girl and back. Carefully, the girl stands up, her face appearing above the bannister, now, with dark hair to go with the dark eyes, and a thin, careful face. "Tell me," she says, in a voice that is surprisingly commanding... or perhaps not so surprising, given her surrounds. "Or I'll call out, and nanny will come. Or worse. No one's supposed to be here." Edyis moves closer, her expression genuinely warm and completely nonplussed by the threat, after all she is supposed to be here. Sort of. "Of course Little bird, I'll tell you all there is to tell of my daring adventure to procure the yellow parasol." Somehow through the tones of her voice and her expression she tries to make this sound very dangerous and exciting. "Somewhere around here there is a room full of grumpy old men, and I must procure this parasol in order to get past them and enjoy the sun and ribbons of the gather." The girl's expression turns immediately dubious. "Why would you need a parasol to get past a room full of--" And then she stops, and her expression narrows further. "You're talking about the-- the-- the meeting they're having. No one goes in there, you know. No one can. They're deciding whether to make a little baby a Lord like daddy is, which seems sad for the little baby, don't you think? Is it Lani's yellow parasol you want?" Edyis considers the girl, though the warmth of expression and faked confidence do not leave her demeanor. "I don't know My lady, I've never considered it before. What do you think they ought to do?" She asks, genuinely curious as to what the girl thinks. "Yes I am to fetch the parasol, your sister is quite a fuss about it." She admits sheepishly and further confesses, "I actually meant the guards, but I'm curious now what do you mean by the meeting and that no one can? Surely they must all get in there somehow?" "Oh," says the girl, and then she claps a hand to her mouth as if she's said too much, her eyes wider than ever above that hand. She shakes her head wildly, again and again and again: she mustn't say anything! She mustn't! "Were you listening to them?" She asks softly, her voice a whisper, expression one of gentle supprise. "Oh I won't say anything Little bird, I'm so sorry, I wouldn't want to get you into trouble. That wouldn't do at all." Contrite. "But I am as good as wherry bait if I don't get that parasol, and that does sound like curious business, making a baby a lord." Forlorn. "No you mustn't tell. Your quite right. Very smart girl you are little bird." The girl shakes her head, dark hair spilling over her shoulders: no, she wasn't listening to them. "If I were listening," she says, abruptly imperious, as the hand drops away from her mouth, "I'd go into the passage, not sit on the stairs." At which point she hesitates again, looks stricken, and then rushes on: "I'll help you get the parasol. I'll show you where it is. Come on. But then you have to go, because really, truly, no one is allowed to be here, and I don't want you to get into trouble, because you seem nice." She's already turning, about to head further up the stairs. Then: "I thought she'd bring the baby, seeing as it's about him. But she didn't. I think they're making her wait in the sitting room, along with all the other Nabol people. I bet they're glaring at each other. They don't seem to like each other much, even though they're family, though I guess I don't like Lani much, either, sometimes..." Edyis nods emphatically. "I thank you Little bird. You've saved me a terrible fate." Making to follow the girl and taking note of where the Nabolese delegates were and where might be best to listen. "Family can be strange that way, but I'm sure when your older, and milady is married off, she will miss you and appreciate you far more greatly than she shows now," unable to keep the small pang from her voice. "You never know what time and fortune will bring or the ways it might separate you both." Although her expression is initially dubious, the girl ultimately gives a little nod. "Maybe," she says. "Do you have a sister who went off and got married and now you miss her? Or... or are you the one who got married?" She's appraising all over again, glancing over her shoulder as she leads the way to the top of the stairs, and then down the plushly carpeted corridor to a heavy, skybroom door, which she opens. Behind it, there's a well-appointed sitting room, with a bedroom beyond. Edyis chuckles a little. "I'm the one who got sent off to work in the kitchens. But I have two little sisters who I miss very much. I write them as often as I am able, and I was planning on buying them some ribbons for their hair at the gather. They are twins but always get angry when they can't be told apart." She admits earnestly, peeking into the bedroom. "I suppose you know exactly where she keeps it?" hopeful and an attempt at flattery the words are formed. "I'd like a twin sister," says the girl, wistfully, turning to look at Edyis directly. "Or a sister who isn't ages and ages older than me, and who thinks I'm just in the way. But why did they send you to the kitchens?" She pauses. Then: "Oh, was it a marks thing? I know that sometimes people don't have a lot, and that's why we have to be grateful for everything that we have, daddy says. He says we're very lucky." Her brow creases. "Sometimes, I forgot. It's probably on her bed," she adds, something like an afterthought. "She never puts things away, and she was upset because the maids were impatient to go." "Yes but if you had a twin you both might get strapped with names like Greta and Gerta!" She points out mirthily. Her expression grows solemn at mention of marks and she nods, moving over to the bed, begining the search for the parasol. "I'm probably leaving sometime after gather though, maybe I'll become a scribe in a weyr or some other adventurous thing where I have more marks to spoil them with. Anything's better than scrubbing pots." She notes with a scrunch of her nose. "You are very lucky, and you have a very wise father." The girl giggles, lifting one hand to her mouth again, though she admits, a moment later, "They call me Lala, mostly, and that's nearly as bad. At home, I mean. In public... everyone knows that Lani is going to marry someone and go away, and that means I might end up being daddy's heir, and I think that's why I feel so much for that little baby. I half think I'd rather scrub pots!" From the look of her, though, 'Lala' has never scrubbed a pot in her life. Still. "Daddy's great. He's the best, truly. Is it there?" Presumably, she means the parasol-- which is not on the bed, but is on the floor, half under the bed and partially unfurled. Edyis laughs brightly at the confession, and her expression grows more serious. "True, but you could do a lot of good don't you think, If you were in charge of your hold?" She finds the parasol, and pulls it gently closed with a tut of her tongue for the abuse of the item. "I wish pot scrubbing upon no one, save those who don't have the brains to do anything else. You are certainly not one of those my lady Lala" She tries the name before a giggle overcomes her. "Doesn't sound quite right does it?" Lala seems uncertain, but ultimately gives a hesitant little nod. "Maybe," she says. "When I'm all grown up. They'll call me by my proper name, then, and it won't seem silly." She puts her hands behind her back, rising up onto her toes, then sinking back down again, glancing around. "But that would mean that daddy isn't here anymore, and I don't want that, not at all. Come on, we'd better get you out. Before anyone finds out and gets upset at either of us, right?" Edyis nods, a deep sorrow overtaking her features. "Quite right." Possibly more for her father being gone, than for getting out of the place. She moves to head back into the passageway. "I wouldn't worry about the baby too much though. Even if they decide he is to be a lord, it will be a long time before he actually has to do it. Someone will be appointed to be his warder you know." For whatever comfort that might offer the girl. "If you want I can find my own way back, and if you like when I make it to the weyr and become a famous scribe I can write you letters." She offers gently, before adding. "But only if you like!" Of the baby's future, Lala gives an uncertain nod, though she's already turned away to lead the way back into the corridor - clearly, she intends to accompany the older girl. "I don't know if they'd allow me to receive letters, but I'd like that, I would. It would-- oh." She freezes, leaning over the edge of the staircase and then, abruptly, backing away again: there are people downstairs, filing out. She puts one finger to her mouth, and gives Edyis a determined glance. Edyis had intended to say something about using firelizards if they didn't want to let her, but she's cut short and catching what has the girl halting. She too freezes though inches as close as possible to hear whatever snippets she might of the conversation between those filing out mirroring the girls own gesture to signify that she understood. The Lords and Ladies of Pern file down the grand staircase in twos and threes, murmuring in low voices that don't give much of a clue as to anything. Lala is just about to start walking again, the coast apparently clear, when two more figures appear below. "I did try," says the man, black-haired and tall, his face obscured. The woman is easier to see: Ienavi, her face flushed, her eyes red. "You knew what they were planning," she says, with an edge to her voice, cool and dismissive. "You knew they would never let it happen. Why, Aughan?" "Your son won't miss out, Ienavi. Nor will you. You're going to be Crom's Lady, my Lady. Crom, which needs no rebuilding. Eustan will get his Hold. You'll see." An involuntary chill causes the former Nabolese refugee to shiver as she hears the exchange. Her eyes go to Lala, urging the girl to wait just a few moments longer. It would all be for naught if the pair of them were caught now, especially by those two. Her jaw tightens slightly. Lala's expression is bewildered, a flood of questions obviously lurking behind her closed mouth. Still, she gives Edyis a silent nod, and goes back to staring down at the couple on the landing below. "How can I trust you, Aughan? There's no way they planned all of that in mere days. They knew." "Ienavi, darling. You don't want Nabol. You never did. You married Ustelan for his position, and you will marry me for mine. You would have done it even without the seed - you know that." "But--" "Can we discuss this in private, my dear? We are expected outside, and I would hate for anyone to doubt the sincerity of our match." Ienavi sounds bitter when she says, "They do that already. Since when do Bloods marry for love?" Aughan takes her arm, laughing, as he leads her down the stairs. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong, my dear. I do love you." And then they're gone. It isn't until they are well gone that Edyis breathes again. So that's where the seed came from. A mixture of emotions that the young woman is not entirely prepared to deal with gets forced down tightly. Crom. Crom was the source of the seed, and Crom had been plotting against Ienavi from the beginning, but to what end? Lord Aughan is a terrifying man. She admits finally before looking to Lala. "You ok?" She asks the girl, genuine concern in her voice. Lala shakes her head, though her expression doesn't seem to suggest she's too bothered - really, she mostly seems deeply thoughtful. "Papa says Lord Aughan knows what he wants, and that what he wants is what's best for his people. It's just that... Papa says he thinks Lord Aughan stops thinking about people as people, sometimes, maybe. I don't really understand." She gives Edyis a tentative little smile. "I didn't really understand what they were saying. Does that mean that the little baby isn't going to be Lord after all?" "Yes it does, which may be good for him for now. Though, it begs the question, if he isn't who is?" The older girl muses. That tentitive smile gets echoed back, but bigger, warmer and somehow sadder. "I guess this is where we part ways little bird?" Lala hesitates, and then all but throws herself at Edyis, aiming to put both arms around her unless the older girl backs away in time. "It was so nice to meet you," she enthuses, regardless of her success. "Really it was. I hope your sisters get their ribbons and you get your new job and-- and-- please write to me." Edyis grins surprised, but all too eager to return the hug. "Of course I will little bird, even if I have to catch a firelizard to get it to you I promise to write. They will all be signed Edyis the scribe! It was wonderful meeting you too." She may even be a little teary at departing the company of her new friend. "Don't be too hard on your big sister either, she'll figure things out eventually." "I'll try," promises Lala, her lower lip wobbling a little, though she straightens, shoulders back, and tries to look grown up and calm, and perfectly fine about being left up here alone, while the gather continues out there in the grounds of the hold that may, one day, be hers. She'll even wave. It's easy enough to get back out of the Hold, now that the Conclave has been concluded; easy enough, too, to get the parasol to the woman waiting for it. And out in the grounds, there's only one thing people can talk about: Lady Tevrane of Nabol, the dark horse who came apparently out of nowhere to take charge of the beleaguered Hold. |
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