Along the Row...Part II

[Janice Olivia Monroe]

...continued from Bryante Row..

Vance No offense friend, but my boss ain't gonna much like tagalongs." Not so much a thank you, before muttering. "All canted up enough as it is." Wonderful, as if it wasn't bad enough as is. "Look, show up if ya want, but I warn ya, you follow me and ya agree to repeat nothin' of what you see, got it? You breathe a word of it, and yer dead. That ain't a threat, that's just a warnin'. Dead. Gone, forgotten. Talons don't mess around." he debated dropping the name, but if anyone knew about the orders, than it shuld have explained enough. all the same, both them men could alternatively complicate this entirely. Withdrawing the palmed dart from his pocket, he frowned, silently hoping there was enough left for Clara to analyze, taking to comforting the poor thing with a finger trailed along her thumb. "Janice, ya listenin' honey? I want ya to start thinkin' about Psalms, alright? Recite 'em in your head. Don't s top. Forget everythin' else." the best he could manage, for all he knew he couldn't hear her. When the youth (and presumeably the girl) were in the carriage, he gave it a kick. "Oi! big house, Laurence estate. get a bloody moveon." he added, curtly. "Vance Evans. I'm workin' for the Duchess. "

Siobhan Not pleased with the turn of events, Siobhan looked to Lucius. Don't take it from her. That moment where it made you feel better as the bastard died. Her face eased slightly, before she heard the man shouting and looked to Lucius ashe cursed. No..don;t go. She wanted to say, but he was mouthing words that were important. I love you. she wanted to say it out loud, but could not. She watched him leave her again...as the guards came towards her and the voice spoke. Other guards were coming that were not her own, but the Baliff's. Siobhan could not go, she was ordered to head right back to her father, watching as the carraige was loaded and she was heading the other way. So much for thatpretty dress for Lucius.

BolverkBolverk frowned and looked over his shoulder as his son shouted. ``Lucius, mind your mouth.`` The man's words got a frown, but a nod all the same. ``Done, gone, vanished, would be a step up from my current position.`` Eyes went to the male, then the female who looked sick. ``The smithy. Or smith.`` He was not going to give his name to the male. ``Lucius.`` no need to say it is his son either. Leaning towards the girl, he pushed her hair from her neck and in a blink, he pushed a blade across it in a small nick, then pulled back and rose his hands. ``Just helping her blood flow out..what ever it is, the blood pouring out can help slow it.`` He did not need Vance fighting him in this small space. ``I am putting it away..``

Lucius: Lucius did not want to leave Siobhan either, he wanted to stay, make up for the months they had been apart. Instead, the dead corpse on the ground and his friends ruined it. A great part of Lucius was upset that he had been torn away from his wife and who knew when he would see her next. Dark eyes turned to his father and Lucius frowned. Mind his mouth? After what had happened? Lips pressed themselves together in a thin line, but Lucius said nothing in reply. He knew better than to talk back to his father. Lucius was silent as the two men talked, and then his father made a small cut along the back of her neck. Lucius arched a brow. How did he know that? He blinked, but turned hisbrow. How did he know that? He blinked, but turned his eyes away from his father and to Vance. Where the hell were they going, he thought to himself, since he couldn't say it. Lucius turned his gaze out the window. ``Who are the Talons? And how do you work for the Duchess?`` Lucius asked, turning his gaze back to Vance, his face stoic as dark eyes stared at the man.


Vance: "Oh christ yer thick. " he replied bluntly, passing Bolvarek a dangerous look but seemingly allowing the action with a bit of a grimace. First aid was not his strong point, and the man seemed on the level, at least according to : Vance's instincts. "Black Talons. We're Spies. You breathe that to a soul and it's over, understand it?' he kept his voice down so even the carriage rider wouldn't hear it. "Those... men are Maubery's. Kind of. Man's been putting a lotta money to somethin', but now seein' as he's off they're treatin' Skye like a god-damn playground. " he grunted, running hands through his hair--he didn't want to be telling them any of this! "The girl's important. Leave it at that. Aimin' to undermine and cut Skye off at the knees. " he shook his head and muttered something, before ramming his fist uselessly into the side of the carriage before rubbing his chin. If he was wrong about his assessment, well.. then these men were going to have very unfortunate lives. "Son of a bytch. They weren't supposed to be here. chyt..."

Bolverk: Putting the dagger away slowly, he finally settled his hands in his lap where the other man could see them. Never underestimate anyone. Evening somone who looked like and acted like Vance. People were often not what they appeared. Lucius asked questions and Bolverk resisted the urge to tell him not to. Some times, asking questions put people in more danger. Vance seemed to have too much sense of trust, becaue he answered. Even if in small amount. The smith stayed silent, not affected by the man slamming his fist into the side of the carraige. Even his face relaxed and held little expression. He would wait to ask questions as his eyes went to the girl. ``You should get her talking, thecarraige's rocking could put her to sleep.``

Lucius: Dark brown eyes looked black in the dimly lit carriage, making them stand out all the more as he stared hard at Vance. Black Talons? A dark brow twitch in an upward spasm for the briefest of moments. Spies? His eyes narrowed a bit. When did the Duchess have a use for spies? Black Talons...it sounded something of a cult, and not of the saintly sort. Maubrey's men? More of them? Mauraders, more than likely, but what use did they have for blowing a dart in the neck of this woman. Lucius was silent for a moment, leaving the man to answer and his father to comment on keeping the girl talkative. Dark eyes glanced down to the poor girl, but then shot right back up to this Vance fellow. ``Who is the Order? You don't look like the sort that would be working for the Duchess. How do I know I can believe what you say? What makes you so different than the man in the alley?`` Lucius ventured, boldly, perhaps his distaste for his reunion with his wife being dashed had something to do with that pent up aggression.

Vance: "Boy. If the name means nothin' to ya, I can't prove a damn thing. But to answer your question " and Vance was able to keep calm until this point, where stress and frustration got to him, he suddenly barked. "But maybe ya can take a hint 'n noticin' I WASN'T THE ONE TRYIN' TO KILL A f**kIN' GIRL YOU HALF-WIT! She strike you as a god-damn Killer too, huh? Open yer god-damn eyes!" he would have smacked him if not for the close environment (and the man twice his side) but he was close. Vance rubbed his eyes wearily as the carriage came to a stop, and he reached to scoop up the girl again. "You wanna proof? Fine. Like I said. You go through that door, you tell no one what you see. Get it? No one, or it's over. Period. You don't believe me... well, go ahead and try yer luck. but she'll die, 'n the only one that knows what's killin' her is in that house. Your choice, lad. If you can't make one, then get the hell out of my way."

Janice: "Psalms..psalms.." she muttered softly and began to recite in a low tone the most beautiful psalms from the book written by King David. She tried to imagine the harp he might have played, called a lyre, only for the wavering strings to be replaced by her own cringe as the carriage sped over the cobblestones in the street. "Ow....ow....ow....and..the..Lord..calleth me.." The dart had not hit her, but the graze, was it enough?

Claramae: "Master Laurence, there is a carriage outside of the door. Are we expecting anyone?" The noviate peered out of one of the windows where in they could see out, but none appeared from the ouside. It was a trick of the stones, ingenius, really. So came of houses made by illusionists and concealers. The Lady scoffed at the notion"Now who would come here, unannounced, to seek anything out during this time? I do not fancy they seek our house for tea, Rubalon. Have the page open the door." While the Master stayed her weapons at the ready,Rubalon. Noviates were a precious commidity they were lacking in sorely since the seige of the city cut their numbers down. Imagine her vexation when she would have preferred some assailant instead of a carriage packed with a veritable parade of common citizenry with no businesses upon the step. What was Vance doing in that carriage - no facial muscles moved. Stoicism, thy name is Laurence. "Good day, you all. What matter bring you to this door? Master Vance... " Her eyes then passed to Janice, who before her very eyes was beginning to drain of color in her eyes. "Master Vance, bring her in...quickly. Tell me everything.The pair of you.." The pair of men were "all" of them within. My, men made quite the commotion! "Come in. Be mindful, be expedient in your step. Be quick to answer, now come. Miss Viscreed is dying and I have no intention of losing her now, nor ever." There was an odd tenderness to the woman as she touched the girl's hands to feel for her pulse, see the color of her fingernails "How hard was she hit?" (d)

Bolverk: Bolverk remained utterly calm, even as the male seemed to let loose. ``There is no need to get histerical or raise your voice in such a manner. There is much left out of our views and you hold more information then us both.`` His tone was normal. Had he been twenty years younger, the male would have regretted talking to his son in such a tone. Years and years, made good patience and he was letting things slide. When it paused, he moved to open the door and allowed Lucius out first, before waving his hand to the male to go out. He would have handed Jance to Vance once he was out, before stepping out after the male and following. A voice he had not heard in years moved out and the face, only made Bolverk raise a thick brown, then settle it down as he moved after them all. Eyes moved all over as they entered, looking to each walk in area, window, wall and the over all style of the home. Inhaling deeply, he took in the scents. That tickle on his neck made him clear his throat. ``Lucius, take care with your questions. Ask them, but only a few at a time.`` He spoke low to his son as they moved inside. Bolverk was proud, but not arrogant. He never walked or moved like a commoner.

Lucius: Boy? His eyes narrowed a bit at that. Lucius might be young, but he was not this man's 'boy'. The very word made Lucius want to retort quickly and snap back at him, but Lucius held his tongue. He somehow stomached the retaliation and simply stared at the man, glaring almost as his jaw tensed. Looking back out the window, he watched the scenery pass by, and when they got to the estate. He frowned, and when the carriage stopped, he moved out first, his eyes moving this way and that, taking in his surroundings. Lucius did not move yet until his father was beside him, and even then his father warned him about his questions and the frequency of them. All he could do was nod stiffly and move inside with the rest of them. Who were these people? His hand stayed on the hilt of his sword, but only to keep it from tapping against his leg every time he took a step. Did the Duchess know about this place? Lucius didn't like it...not at all

Vance: "It was Larkin, Master Laurence." Vance had rarely used the term Master, which spoke volumes to his fear. "Bastard's turned traitor. I got the dart." he wasted no time in disappearing into the opulent house, passing a glance to . the very picture of poise before he away. If anything, Janice's safety was important to Vance as it was to Clara, and he'd follow her orders without question for now. He'd be told off for bringing them here in the first place later. "...God. Janice, I'm so sorry. " he whispered, faintly. The poor girl, would not stay ignorant of her circumstances much longer. "You're gonna be okay love... Master Laurence'll fix this."

Claramae: "Give her to me, Master Vance,...quickly!" Five foot four, beneath a hundred and fifteen pounds the woman looked unassuming, truly unable to hold such weight but the girl was placed into her ams and she carried her with ease. " The both of you come with me. Rubalon, run to my chambers and fetch Bromheilde to me, tell her bring my cases. She will know what I mean, make haste. Master Voltaire! Master Volatire!" Did Bolverk feel a chill at the mention of familiar names? The old man seemed to bleed out of a wall, passing through a mirror for he watched from but one of several glass halls the seen unfold as his mistress had gone forth to the unmarked carriage. With no eye patch, the scar made out of his sightless orb shifting under the tissue was in heavy contrast to the almost yellow glare of his opposite. His hair was unbound, shifting as he looked at the girl in her arms. " Is it the .." "Yes,Voltaire, andeven the tiniest is killing her faster because of her Jewish blood, the dart did not even lodge into her flesh" The pair were pulled through a grand, opulent house patterened in a style favored of a Greco-Roman ambiance. The divine marble floors, the painted ceilings where heaven seemed but a breath away. columns held aloft a roof that was domed, but out of doors it appeared a stone structure of good repute, neither poor nor garish. Feet would walk across a long Persian rug. Turning a hard corner, Voltaire took the girl while claramae led them through a hall where none ought have been. They walked over the foyer they just stood in, and to a room that was clean with a roaring fire. Shelves were lined with viles, herbs, mortars, pestles, and infinite volumes of books in many languages. He placed her on a table as Claramae looked her over , finding the place on her neck where a draining point had been etched. "You've not lost your touch." she said to no one imparticular - or - was it that it was for more than the poison's work? Drawing from a basin, she pressed a pump that drew out hot water after three compressions.Putting her scalding hands in the liquid after her sleeves were cuffed, she took up a slender blade of what seemed solid silver, etching the same small notches, acros the girl's clavicle, at forearms, the insides of wrist, and with no care for modesty hitched her dress to cut into her thighs as well. (d)

Bolverk: Clearing his throat gently at Vance's whimpering of sorts, he moved his arms behind his back and held both his wrist loose. The names passing through the air made him look to his son breifly before continuing forward after the smaller woman. Not a hint of acknowledgement was given and there was good reason. Looking towards the male, he inspected his features or what could be seen of them before his eyes went to the extremely well dressed and mannered woman. With his hands till behind his back, he glanced to Lucius and gave a nod for him to move after. The touches to the home were far too much like Rome for his taste, yet some where deep inside, he yerned for it. It had been his home for years...too many in his opinion. Moving into the room,. he resisted to look at the books and read over them for too long before his eyes went to the woman on the table and watched as Claramae worked. The comment, made him unmoving. Such secrets flowing around the room, one would think him or others to be tense, but this was not the Church and there was no need for such. When the skirts were rose, he looked to her thighs only at the slices, not any where else. Despite Bolverk's activities when he had enough coin, he was not a pig and seeing a girl's privacy who was as modest as the young woman had been, held no thrill at all. ``The male...Vance. A bit trusting of a fellow. Ifwhat he says is true, such secrets should not be revealed, even to us commoners.``

Lucius: Lucius was simply clueless and trying to catch up and understand what was all going on. These people were the 'Black Talons' or something of the sort, and theorhetically under the service of the Duchess. Spies, but was this some sort of guild? Lucius silently wondered as his eyes danced from the two and then to his father. The further they moved inside, the more it felt like a dream, stepping back into Rome's city. Lucius had no knowing of the secrets that his father kept, just as his father had no idea of the secret he still held. When they entered the room and Claramae began to work on Janice, Lucius' eyes were still roaming about the room and on the books in particular, his eyes narrowing slightly as an attempt to count the number of them. There were...so many books. His hand hung at his side while the other still rested on the hilt of his sword. When his eyes did turn to Claramae, they widened a bit, seeing the woman's thighs...well that was terribly un-lady-like. Lucius turned his eyes away quickly and glanced to his father as the man spoke. More like a rude fellow, Lucius thought to himself as he pressed his lips together, hiseyes taking in the architecture.

Claramae "His attachment to Miss Viscreed spurs his upset, though I do not blame him for the quandry he faced was quite displeasing." A cup of tea, a cut into flesh. Merrily they went along, the man with hands behind his back as the lady made x shaped cuts into the flesh of her thighs. There, the skin had grown hot, red, and when she cut in blood mingled with pus. She was releasing a literal blood infection the body was trying to get out itself, initiating inflammation and swelling. Settling small bowls beneath wrists and at thighs to catch the contaminates, one would feel sorry as to purge her further her dress was cut at the center with shears. Leeches were put in places on top of the inflammed areas on her stomach and chest to gorge themselves. "I trust you helped him, you both, caught up in this somehow lest you'd be dead." Eloquently blunt, the fact of matter was plainly evident or they would not be in a house with mirrors and illusions, and a girl's life hanging in the balance. "Though you are in danger now. He risked his own exposure for your ignorance would do you no good. though I must say, commoner is incorrect. Your son is Sir Campbell's squire, no? Hardly a common place." A woman passed through the door next, holding two thin wood cases stacked atop one another. Placing them on a table, she too washed her hands, and began to collect the fat leeches to put thinner ones on places that had not diminished like others did. New ones were put to the belly, one thigh, and for good measure one at he r throat. They were cleaning her blood as the antidote was preparing to be administered. (d)

Bolverk: There was no denying that. Attachments were dangerous, it was one of the many reason why Bolverk tried to get rid of Lucius when he was a babe. He did not want the boy to be held against him, or used to play games with Bolverk. It could still happen now, but Lucius could also protect himself better. The actions did not bother him, he seemed unmoved as Claramae spoke. ``That is the jest of what happened, yes. The danger I am in now..is not any greater or less then how I was before I came to your door step Lady Laurance.`` Eyes drifted to Lucius before moving back to Claramae. ``A place he earned on his own and with fate. His place, not mine. Much as it is now his life, not my own.`` It was like old times. All they needed was a few men screaming upon some spikes or being hung by their thumbs and he would be right back in his old life.

Lucius Lucius glanced to Claramae and arched a brow. Of course they helped him, though Lucius was more or less defending Siobhan and himself from a shooter and his intended target. Had they no part in the matter, they would not be in a carriage and here if they had not interfered in some way. Lucius fought the urge to say something smart, that might get him in more trouble and it was certainly not worth it. Still, he did not want to stand here and watch the poor girl be disected...if he enjoyed such a sight he would go to the infirmary there and watch men be bled to remove toxins. However, when the woman mentioned him and Sir Kendrew, his brow arched high and his eyes narrowed a bit. What business of it was hers? She was a spy, he assumed, and that constituted the need to know who was who on this Isle. His eyes turned to his father's, meeting those lighter eyes, before they shifted back to Claramae. How did she know that he was Bolverk's son? ``You know a great deal about us and yet we know so little of you, Lady Laurence. That hardly seems fair.`` He said, staring at her.

bscure Innocent: "Well, Master Squire you may indulge your questions if you wish. We will be spending quite a portion of time together henceforth, though you are not unknown to me." The knife, being washed, was given to Bromheilde who put it away one of the cases opened, she drew out a vial that had a hollow bottom, where she was fixing in a strange sort of needle with an open end. "Please do so as you wash your hands in the basin, and hand me the leaves that Bromheilde has crushed. Mint and Scrucia berries. Continue to press them. Master Smith, will you aid Bromheilde in pulling the last of the leeches off of the young lady." Janice would have died if she were awake. Her skirts had covered the tips of her toes the sleeves halfway over the hand, and she was as exposed as a harlot. "Voltaire, the burning needles will be needed for that one," she noted an over indulgent slug that was near to bursting on the substance from the girl's belly Burn it? Yes, quite. It took a certain way to impale the leech in the middle of it's mouth and quickly pull it of as the teeth dislodged. They also, too, did this with hot hands to encourage the bugs to release naturally. Janet's skin was too sensitive to burn then all off, but this one left no choice. Voltaire slid a pair of bound together metal thongs into the candle until they glowed red hot and passed it off to Bolverk. Notice the lack of instruction on how to use them. "You and I, Lucius, are within the same path. You are leaning more towards white, or gold feather tips mayhap. The Order of the Talon holds those who are guardsmen to His Grace and Her Grace, their court, and allies. Surely your Knight has told you this. If not, he is remiss." Boldly she scolded Kendrew on shortcomings though what as said of the beginning was not unknown. Kendrew's white tipped claw pin was as prominent to eyes that knew to see it as the Golden Talon riders were of his grace. It was an honor to be knighted, and a calling to be among those men, privy to the inner circles of skye, prone to make higher a sacrifice. "The third color, is Ebony. We are a recent induction, as you none here had knowledge nor care for our arts until the matters after the court's misadventures to Aberdeen." (d)

Bolverk: It was true that Claramae knew far too much for Bolverk's liking, but if she did not know, she would not be good at her job. Pulling his arms around, he rolled up the sleeves of his tunic and bid Lucius do the same. Washing his hands, he moved over and when the instruments were handed to him, Bolverk could not hide the knowledge he had of them as he began to remove the leeches from her body, not gazing too long at that which made men and women different. He was no child or young man..a tit was a tit, a girl-thingy was a girl-thingy. Just differen shades and feelings. He listened as his son and Claramae spoke of the Talons. Three orders? All the information she gave, was absorbed, but he said very little. That was until the end. ``I find it interesting that fate as landed you here, in Scotland of all places. They are not know for their regal manners and advancements.``

Lucius: Spending time together? Now the woman had lost him and right now, having still a bit of frustration from being pulled away from a special moment, he was bored and tired of her games of word play. He did not like it, and if she wasthinking her words would further her intelligence or mystify her being, she was sorely mistaken. Lucius was doing well to avoid looking upon Janice, for he was no nurse and surely there had to be other people here to assist her, people more...appropriate. ``Clearly.`` He replied in response to her statement of her knowing about him. Wash his hands? At first, Lucius stood there, staring at his father and then to Claramae. Was she serious? Frowning, he inwardly sighed and rolled his sleeves up. He washed his hands and inched closer, and without his eyes lingering anywhere other than what his hands were set to do, Lucius said nothing...that is, until she scolded Kendrew. Lucius frowned again and could not hold his tongue this time. ``Well, my lady, war does not leave much time of idle gossip. Both Sir Kendrew and I have been active military men in the armed forces of Skye.`` Lucius shot back flatly, but listened as she explained the branches of Skye, the White, Gold, and Black. Interesting. ``I wonder, then what manner of arts you so speak of.`` He asked, before glancing to his father, who seemed to know what he was doing...rather well. When..did he learn that? He blinked. ``While our paths may converge, my Lady, are paths are not the same, or will they ever be.`` He replied, casting a look to Claramae.

Claramae: "Naturally,though I do not fancy neither of you the sort to gossip. We too, have seen duty. Master Sorschal has been installed here since last summer, wherein my emergence came within the fall, with the downturn of Avaria to the militant dictatorship of the Steward." The slug that Bolverk would burn seemed hesitant to the hot impliment, curling, but not wanting to let go of his feast. The ointment Lucius had been told to crush was taking on a pasty consistancy. Bromheilde came to add a liquid to it that seperted paste from juices. this juice was drawn up into the odd hollow needle chamber with the aid of a suction of sterilized cork and a steel rod. When it was full, she slid the needle into Janice's skin, and at her neck injected the smoking liquid, same color it became as the smoke pouring from the store. As for the paste, he was instructed further, "Where there are no leaches and the wound is no longer red, put the paste on with two fingers, press around the leeches bites, in rounds as you do." Janice breathed in heavily, good! For a long while she'd done nothing at all, so the treatment was working. Bolverk had a steay hand still. That was good to see, for she need give him no corrections. But to answer his question she continued, "The roads converge in Turas Lan. Scotland is neither refined noradvanced to the customs of great places, but all fledgling dynasties begin so. Turas Lan, however, is a bastian of everything. I was fortunate enough to have a furthered introduction in that the people herein are the same that have fled the fall of Scottish kingdoms these last several years. My political asylum has turned to a residency. In exchange for my services in the parliment here, securing treaties and making sense of international politic I was granted a stay. When the Avarian alliance ended and so my work as an allied agent, I accepted place here. Had such things not come to pass, rest assured, I would have never left the German states of the Holy Roman Empire. " She put a mirror to Janice's nose to see how hard she breathed. Satisfied when the impliment fogged, she drew off the remaining liquid from the paste to inject into her arm. "You are in more danger now than e'er before, as are all thatare within or have ever been in the Hunting Game." a rather theatrical herald,she thought, but no less true. "Later, I may tell you more, but not yet. It was then, after a time had passed she looked to Lucius and said. "No, we are only different in our techniques, young sir. Not in our mission. Defend the crown, uphold the soveigns and the state, by any means necessary. How think you some things come to pass when sword can not be swung? There are many a different way to wage war, England has fought this land on all her fronts. Many of our young noviates died, in the same fashion others have. With sword in hand. Ideal. " Dear God almighty. The woman talked of death and carved into skin with a face so nondescript it looked like eyes set into a piece of stone. Did she have emotion for these people? Aye, but with Claramae it was hard to distern anything. No laugh lines. No indention of flesh to count the years. She was older than Lucius, younger than his father, but seemed somehow suspended betweenthe age of the young man and no more than twenty-one. "In Avaria, the King had his own Talon Brethren, and in that Order I have been far longer than this. I wager the Avarians and those of Skye forged an alliance on the same principles of war , among other things. Maahes. Danae. In a war they were vicious, and if angered, vicious. How Claramae came to live among such ill-tempered and such rough constitutions was still strange no matter the explaination, but one thing was clear. Madame de la Morte was a very fitting name. "She will live, Praise unto God." Ah yes, there was a cross planted just before the furrow of her bosom. A religious murderer. (d)

[Janice Olivia Monroe]

Narration: Punctuality was one of the important marks of aspring to be a Lady; she is never to be seen any less than precisely where she should be at precisely that point in time. When you consider the lessons she absorbed with such devotion to the socialistic academia, it was strange to consider the 'ladies' she drew example from had interesting ways of defying the standard maid to be abseloute. The curtsy was beginning to smooth, her voice gain a litle more steadiness, and the back become erect. At least in the company of Lady Avalle there was no nearly so much yammering (though she had infinite questions ) or stalling (in a castle, one wanted to see everything). She was a student dead set to hit the marker to please the teacher, so then on this day when a lesson was set for 10'o'clock did the girl not arrive? The bells in the tower were ringing eleven times now! (d)

Rosalind: Rosalind was a rather busy woman, and when her student was late, she was admittedly too incensed to worry about Janice's person. There were so many tasks to oversee, and any delay meant a delay in returning home, taking Aldric out into the gardens, and truly enjoying herself. Yet as time passed, Rosalind shook her head free of indignation. It was not like Janice to be late. The girl had grown up to the rhythm of the nunnery, and like all souls she had met who came from such houses of religion, they were often more punctual than herself. She made a few inquiries with the servants. Had she gone into the gardens? Did she perhaps think they would meet in another part of the castle? She searched as many rooms as she thought prudent, ducked her head into the solar (though why she would be there and not come directly to Rosalind's suite was perplexing), checked the garden (too many distractions, even for Rosalind), and finally asked the guards if Miss Viscreed had even been seen today. "No, milady," was hardly out of the guard's mouth when the bells started chiming the eleventh hour. She sighed a bit, more at the gut feeling that something was very wrong than at the inconvenience of having to leave off her own chores for the next few hours, and went to the stables. She could hardly keep her foot from tapping on the stones as the boy went to fetch a horse. The lads knew well enough Lady Rosalind was an accomplished rider; they also knew well enough to bring out a mounting block. She launched herself into the saddle and took off on a slightly roundabout route to the estate. She knew eyes were usually on her for one reason or another, and she was rarely out of sight of a particular pirate, and was quite careful not to seem as if she were on any great mission, even stopping off to buy a few things in the market, which she then gave to an unsuspecting peasant before spurring her horse into an easy canter right up to the gates. *

NarrationThe girl's upbringing was tadamount to a cloister from day one until her entry into the cloister for nearly a handful of years. A regimented schedule was expected of the country sort, and her mother was not only French, but one of those French-Catholics for whom a moment of idle time was forbidden as it could induce a moment of temptation to unsavory ends. Outside ventures were only to the market for necessities, to church, and the rare occasion the family did make repost at some St.'s Day festivity she was kept very close. One would have thought Danielle De'Barberac a sanctified Reverand Mother, and her husband the man fortunate enough to bask in the radiance of her holy company. Unlike most girls who worry on becoming frigid or captives if their family could not find them marriage, Janice only missed her family but found it was not so different from home. There was a garden to see to, books they allowed her to read where in the outside world her mother was beginning to fret over her being an 'educated girl who would make only a smart spinster.' Turas Lan was rife with distraction (how many streets, thoroughfares, and side ways did it have?) and tempation (oh let us not mention!) but hers was the curiosity of girls who had never peered over the wall, and with the prospect of matches and marriage, seemed to be drinking in the last cut off years of some youthful indulgence. Through the streets it was and toward the estate so aptly called the home of Laurence. True, Lady Laurence did live here, but the common are not apt to revelations. Rosalind, then, had surrendered the common to enter a world of oddity. Where then a court woman and a young girl became encased in webs.

Carlotta, Janice's Maid:"Master Laurence!" the cry was constant from Carlotta, every pair of hours through the night since she'd been drained. (d)

Rosalind: She dismounted and handed the reins to a servant. Like most of the nobility, she barely considered them human at most times, though she was kind enough to them. They simply did not register as greatly as the higher servants or novitiates did, to whom she addressed her next quiet inquiry. "Please tell Master Laurence that I am come. It is urgent." She could not have suspected the reason for her urgency had already come to pass, but it seemed there had already been a disturbance at the estate, for she was led quickly within, into a home of smoke and mirrors that was thoroughly and intentionally disconcerting, even if not an ounce of confusion showed on the impeccable Norman woman's refined features. She had never seen anything quite like it, and her own curiosity nearly had her examining some of the fine mirrors she saw, where not even a blemish marred the smooth, silver surface. *

Claramae: Passeth by the common and giveth unto the higher, an old but unstated adage of the station. Truly, did the low born wish to really be acknowledged by the high if it meant their employ pulled them into the quandry of what was substance, what was false? Inside, the beautiful greecian and roman insipred dwelling was touched with both Sorschal's designs and tastes, Laurence's wealth and suggestions, and assembled by the most unlikely of hands. But that is a tale for another day. On this one, a servant's request to fetch the Lady Laurence was met with an almost twisted face. Ought he disturb her..now? "Come in, m'lady n' wait a moment." The page offered her a place not in the receiving area, but at the base of a staircase. Laurence and Sorschal did not employ tricks when coming to meet with their own, nor for that matter had the ever met her at any less than a forward facing angle. "Master Laurence, the Lady Avalle, the Court presence, she be 'ere to see ye n' says it is urgent.." A case was clasped shut and passed to her own personal lady's maid, named Bromheilde. Bromheilde spoke limited English (if she spoke at all, rumor had it she simply glared) so she turned to see where her lady would go. Silent communication spoke louder than words as the eyes of the Bavarian seemed to acess the entrant as her lady descended the stairs from the hall. "Lady Avalle, I am glad that you have come." (d)

Rosalind: It was good that he did not. She had nearly had an apoplexy when the Lady Scholar came at her from slightly behind in the library a few days ago. Surprises and Lady Rosalind did not quite go together hand in hand yet. She could never be described as flighty, but anyone would be slightly jumpy after the winter she had lived through. She waited silently, nodding slightly as he told her to wait a moment, and finally, with the appearance of Bromheilde, she smiled ever so slightly -- a quirk of the lips in acknowledgment. "Good day, Lady St. Laurence," she added, the lady appearing only after Rosalind had studied the maid's face long enough to find nothing was revealed there. It was good that the lady arrived, then, for standing awkwardly staring at one another was just this side of unpleasant. She inclined her head politely. "My student seems to have gone missing. I was hoping you had knowledge of her whereabouts, and if she is safe." She was worried, and it was the only emotion that showed in her hazel eyes. Otherwise, she was just wary enough of Lady St. Laurence to revert to her courtier's default -- deferrential, but reserved. *

Claramae: One would wonder if St. Laurence's default was deferrential but deadly. It was said that at times, Sorschal would be prone to set her down on those who looked as if they'd turn coat on them for the other side. The name Joseph Larkin - betrayal - killing wafted around them the same as the enigmatic scent of the incense on the air. From above the smoke curled down to twist under their shoes, flick their skirts. "Your student shall not appear for lessons for the next several days, Lady Avalle. I am sorry that we could not observe custom, and send a messenger. That move would not have been acceptable. Miss Viscreed is in a perilious place. Come with me." (d)

Rosalind:Rosalind blinked. Whoever would harm Janice? Her biggest threat were those large eyes of hers, but they were hardly deadly, unless one happened to believe in death by a broken heart. "My God. May I see her?" She was fond of the girl, even if she couldn't say so during lessons. If Janice wishes to learn courtly ways, they would not be taught by a giggling cohort, but by the rather strict Lady Inveryne. She didn't regret how strict she had been, for Janice's progress was pleasing. The girl sucked up knowledge like a sponge, after all. What teacher could find anything wrong with that? Still, at this news, she rather felt as if her heart had suddenly been plastered on her sleeve. *


Claramae "Of course, please make haste, there is but one skilled hand in the room where the other is understandably racked with nerves." The silent pass of the feet under the skirts was quick for once, controlled, but very quick as if a moment's delay could be the moment that pulled the girl away. Up the staircase and down the hall, double doors were pulled a way to a room that would be the envy of any young woman. Pillars from ceiling to floor were the highlights of the apartment as they came through the solar. Turning to the left of it, they entered a bed chamber were a large, circular bed was surrounded by white gauzed curtains. As the wind picked on them, pulling them apart Janice could be seen sunken into that bed with far less color than that gauzy stuff, excpet for the red places on her arms being bandanged. The maid's squeeling was due in part to a leech that would not let go from the girl's neck. "Carlotta. stop it." The maid was elder than Claramae but ceased as if she were a scolded child. "Tis the last one you will see on her, I promise. Now, pass me the washing bowl, and you put the burning needles into the fire to heat them." Janice's eyes were still shut, but the improvement was that she breathed. She talked in her sleep. There came a time when even after the poison had been sucked out in the first rounds she would expire from the strain alone (d)

Rosalind: Leeches were awful, but one did not truly get a grasp of the leeching experience until one was plastered on your face. She absently rubbed her cheek, not as if she could feel the bruise planted there by Fearghus's fierce backhand, but the gag-inducing combination of being slightly itchy and having a cold, jelly-like creature feeding so close to your mouth and eye. A shiver went down her spine and she rather agreed with Carlotta. "What befell her?" Rosalind asked, really not seeing the opulence of the room, but the fragile creature in the bed. She went to Janice's side and picked up a hand, absently examining fingernails before her eyes went to the girl's face. Finally, she looked to Lady St. Laurence and frowned. "And why?" *


Claramae: "Thank you, Carlotta" The maid contained herself with gathered aplumb in a sense that had to be admired. Exhausted and fret with worry, she passed the tools off in silence before joining bromheilde to burn the sheets and clothes of the night past. "The enemies that we face select their targets based on either indirect or direct affiliation, fascination, or use. Maubrey's agents now run freely persuing their own agendas. In fact, they did so before the war, and now after it is a veritable fairy land for them." Was that detect of displeasure or the forced tone of concentration as the heated, bound needles were slid under the fat, slimy creature. It's sheen refeclted the red as it squeaked, curling in on itself over the fire. She flicked it back into the fireplace going from one end of the room to the other like a streaking star. A gaping wound was there from the thing's teeth, and water and a strange concotion was brought to mend it. Had Rosalind ever seen a glass vial attached to a needle with hollow chambers or one so long at that? There was a liquid on the top of a paste pulled in through the needle into the cylinder, and pushed back out again as a cork piece was compressed. The needle was slid right into one of the teeth wounds once cleaned, before the paste was applied on top. "Janice is as much a target as Sorchal or I have ever been, as you have ever been or will be because of her, place in our world. She is the daughter of our old master: Elusha Vittergaust. When he took me on I was not much younger than she, perhaps a year or two. Gottschalk, the vile source of these mademen, was his apprentice. Vittergaust was the physician and later, personal spy of the Earl of Canterbury. Gottschalk showed promise to carry on his secondary trade, where he took me to be his physcian's apprentice. I was on my own in the world, by choice, and though it is a most unorthodox posistion for any woman, I assumed it. Later on, Gottschalk took on an apprentice of his own, Sorschal. Gottschalk was cold and mad. I warned my master of this but he listened not, not until he commited murder for the sake of it, and on no command nor to spare our Lord's life. He entrusted part of Alendral's education to me, then. I tell you this because it is imperative you know the entirity of what you could be dealing with in associating with the girl, though this is never to be repeated." She knew the lady understood discretion. If not, well, recall the fate of a man from the Traveler's Rest. Abide by their mysterious ways and all were protected for they were clannish, betray them and for risking no exposure of themselves a person could disappear as if they never lived. "Janice was quite young, too young to recall any of her time with us though she did,, when her mother allowed her father to bring her to court. In the end as you can see, our master was killed by Gottschalk, and we survived." That too was a story, one that seemed evident by some strength a woman takes on after a horror. Had Claramae been eaten on, had Alendral, by this original monster? "After that Vittergaust's brother took the child, and it was for her safety she has believed him to be her father. Her mother remarried, and her memories, thus scattered, she is none the wiser for it. With the resurgence of the Gottschalkian Legacy, and the Church and fool's like Maubrey who think they can control what even Rome can not, all roads lead to Turas Lan. There have been battles fault on the marble floors and hallowed halls, but nothing like this caliber. Their goal, my lady, is to finish what their master could not, to take with it everything that has risen from old companies, to secure abseloute power. Turas Lan will have never known a war like that which only you or I, or the noviates will see. Now they know she is here..we could not leave her in the cloister, it was no longer safe. We were going to retrive the remainder of the family, but now they are dead. They think she is either the key to Vittergaust's legacy for she knows things to finish his masterworks or that she may be honed into use. Obviously you see none of these things may be done.." The neck was gently bandaged. "To her credit and perhaps too obvious to conceal, the girl has the gift of her father's mind. She can acquire anything you set her to find, this is what she has done for us since her arrival. She is no noviate. If anything, she is an unsuspecting informant. She knows that this house holds an order, and that is is myserious. I am her sponsor on behalf of securing arrangement with the match she ought have had, only that was a way to secure her out of the cloister. Her hands" She held these up, gently examining them. "Are skilled. If they see her cutting a piece of fruit they would venture her a greater thing. Her uncle continued on as an apothecary, but secretly he continued as a physician, and began to become..involved in the opening of corpses for study, to finish his brother's work." (d)

Rosalind Avalle [12:43 P.M.]: Rosalind listened very carefully without moving. She watched, too, rather impressed by the device. She had seen no such thing before in her life, and wondered what the needle was made of. Did it work like a snake's fang? Certainly, it must, for whatever was in the vial disappeared into Janice's body. She blinked and looked back to Lady St. Laurence. She was not here for a lesson in healing. She wasn't precisely certain why she was here, or why she was involved in any of this, save a certain niggling fear that she had a death wish. But deeper fears were easily set aside for the moment as the lady recounted the interaction between Gottschalk and Vittergaust. Every question she thought to ask, Claramae answered in enough detail that Rosalind felt no need to pursue that line of thought, and spoken with just enough distance that the details she did not want to know were lost in the retelling. A vow to keep the secret was rather beneath her, so she merely nodded. It was understood. Rosalind rarely retold anything she heard, which made her so skilled at what she did. And some would argue, herself particularly, that this skill was the reason why she was even alive today. "If she lives, what is to be done? My lady, I have lived these past six months or more unable to leave the walls of the castle. Is she to return to such a life?" She knew Janice would dutifully do as she was told. "Does she know?" was the more prudent question that she could not resist asking. She looked down at Janice's face. "After such freedom as to walk through a market, even with protection, and then to be returned behind four walls, she will ask questions." So much was explained in Claramae's words, and so much of it made Rosalind's heart ache for the young woman, and the Master overseeing the woman's healing. Rosalind was not naturally empathic; but she was a keen observer, and people did not react to this violence in the way that this household had if there was not a deep and lasting memory of hurt and physical torment. *

Claramae: "Until we can determine it safe, I fear we can not let her stray far. In true earnest, the treatments she recieves will also subdue her long enough for us to remedy this. She was with her guardian, Vance, and they were attacked along with other unspsecting citizenry in broad daylight along the richest rows of the city. That is a move of utter desperation and madness on their part, and in that they employed Larkin. He was ours. Mine for many years, my carriage driver and a secondary guard. They captured him six months ago, now we see the product of their work. Her questions will come." She drew back, letting the the tool of needle and vile be put on a neighboring tray. Absently, she tucked a strand of hair behind Janice's ear. "She has no idea of the truth, but we must tell it to her, in as best a way that will not lend itself to the damage that will already be inflicted. She knows much more than we anticipated already. One would expeect no less of a daughter of such a man, nor of a religious zealot. Silence isa hallmark for observantion. The poison dart only grazed her, but it was nearly enough to kill her." She breathed inward and even lower spoke, for this was a fact not even many who knew of her knew. "Vittergaust was a Jew. This poison seems to effect such blood quicker."(d)

Rosalind: Rosalind crossed herself swiftly, not for any zealotry on her part, but out of deep sympathy. There were moderate-minded among the Catholic communities across Europe that were as frightened of being labled Jews or heretics as there were Jews and heretics frightened of exposure. Unfortunately, there were far more God-fearing and law-abiding Catholics "exposed" as heretics than there were of actual heretics. This was a discrepancy in her Church's doctrine that Rosalind had seen from a very young age, and though she had never met a Jew, she would not fault him for a difference in doctrine. After all she had been through, and after all their people had been through, they were both firm believers in an Old Testament God. She thought for a moment, her head canted slightly. "I do wonder what brought her parents together." The moment of amusement was lost in the levity of the current situation though, and she glanced at Claramae. "I am sorry for your betrayal. It hurts." She would not dwell on hurt. She would not say she understood or sympathized. But she could nod, with a knowing look, and let the moment be recognized as a shared and unpleasant experience. "It is safe to assume, then, they knew her father for a Semite, for I do not much believe in fortunate accidents." She wished she knew when Vittergaust's identity as a Jew had been exposed, but only to satisfy curiosity. It really made no difference. He was still dead. And his daughter was still a target. "What would you have me do, my lady? I am content to be her kind visitor and bring her flowers from the market. But I think any who knows her will wish to do more." Her eyes darkened, but she turned and focused back on Janice. *

Claramae: "They knew him for a Semite, and if that is not what killed him they killed him when he was off his guard. Jacob Vittergaust long since left. He became Viscreed, a Franco-Englishman, and Danielle De'barberac became Viscreed, too. We must do more. We must find among the people a refuge other than here. We, too, must have additional guards within the court. Our forces are strained, Lady Avalle. The seige killedover half of the noviates." What, half! Over that? The secret army was dwindling, and Hydra had too many heads to cut. "She will need a life, and in that life eyes that will be loyal and honest to you. Can you find this?" She whispered, and took up Janice's hand as she did so. "In this I pray we find a discreet way we may shepard the girl out of the city as need arises, and ways we may bring her back again. We must give her the world and keep her from it at the same time. And you must find Lord Campbell. He must help to deter suspicion from our tasks. With the war things may become to easy to find (d)

Rosalind: "I will speak to him shortly. This I can do." She nodded. It would not do to have the knights or any other sign of authority descend on the market where the attacks were made, nor to intervene in a war of which they were not equipped to handle. The knights and warriors of Skye did not need to prove their worth to Rosalind, nor any other citizen of Turas Lan, but poisons and daggers were not weapons they saw in the fields of war. She thought about the Labyrinth and back alleys of this city, streets that were so far from any authority but the criminal's code, but this was a rash and stupid idea that she dismissed outright. Not only was it inappropriate, the lack of protection could work both ways. "I am afraid if you lock her up too deeply in the city, she will not be able to leave again so easily. I cannot think offhand how to make her departure any easier, but I did once hear a story of a young woman who escaped to be with her lover by dyeing her hair with an apothecary's help. She apparently was so changed, her own mother did not recognize her." Spies were not idiots, nor were they children who listened to fairytales, but sometimes, inspiration came from the strangest places, which was, Rosalind had learned, often reality itself. "What I mean to say is, we are at no lack for ingenuity and creativity. Both attributes are readily apparent in both yourself and Master Sorschal. If there is aught I may do, you will be sure to let me know?" *

Claramae "Yes...yes. Let me know should you find a place she may go, friends, for at least in such movement we may give her a life even if we hold it up on thinly strings. The hair..yes.." Claramae St. Laurence settled back and imagined the girl with a different shade of tresses. Such was not outside her ability, but the time. Perhaps there might be another to trust - the risk - trust. This was a war that only a few in Skye could face nor was it the place of many to be wrapped up in the world of a few. "I will have to remember that fable. Thank you, Lady Avalle. Your help to us will be far greater than you know. This girl - is the key - to everything. I fear her mind may have something to be unlocked if they force it out her. (d)


Rosalind: "I am here only to serve," she said. Though she did not know why yet. Perhaps it was an inkling of her own unsolved mysteries. Perhaps it was an understanding that they all had mysteries. Perhaps it was merely an affinity for the girl who did not know nor portray herself as a victim. Before she left, she smoothed hair from Janice's brow. "Sleep easy, child," she whispered in French. "I will have you pacing my floor with books on your head yet." Smiling at the image, for that was the one she wished to preserve, not this wan, fragile creature with ugly wounds caused by the leechings, she stepped back. She curtsied to Lady St. Laurence, and walked slowly back out to the stables to collect her horse. She would be back the next day, and the next, if that was how long Janice would sleep, at odd hours, as long as she could leave unfollowed. Perhaps this was a liaison that might prove too tricky for even Rosalind, but for now, she could elude the watching eyes, stop at the cathedral and do a few cycles of the rosary, and return home before she was missed. *

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

...blackbird singin' in the dead of night
take these broken wings and learn to fly
all you're life..

Claramae:Through the day and the remainder of the subsequent evening, Claramae proved the signature of Vittergaust by proving that medicine had been his passion. It was from this base of science and mathematics he entrusted a girl-child with the tools that would survive his work long after his death. No one wanted to be around to see it though. Carlotta grew sick thrice on watching the blood-letting, the leeches creeping over the pale peach skin and sucking so greedily their slurpling sounds seemed to echo in the room. Lady Avalle climbed the fabled twisted staircase and came further into their world while Vance? He seemed to withdraw. It came to a point where the treatment had done its work and the girl was resting only so much further - suffice to say - Claramae's work would allow her to wake up. Noiseless feet and the eyes of the Master looked down to the one swimming in his own apathy. "She shall be awake soon, she has spoke of you often as the fevers raged. I imagine Master Vance she shall ask for you." Sorschal had given up on trying to coax him forward. What good then would the walking ice-storm do? (d)

Vance: "'Course she did. Who else she got to talk about? 'er whole world's the doors we keep 'er locked in, she's got no one else to call on." the response was both bitter and laced with frustrated venom, shaking his gaze long enough to meet the Ice-queen with a withering gaze, his eyes dark and bloodshot, clearly well affected by the drink he was cradling. "'n it serves you 'n yours, doesn't it? Girl's got no idea why people wantin' her so dead but so naiive that 's long as ol' Vance is at her side nothin'll happen to her. 'till it does. " there was a strange kind of sick desperation in his voice and he gestured broadly with one arm. "... The hell do you even want me to do, huh? Stroke her hair, tell her it's gonna be alright, lock her in with the cellar? Deflect her questions, pretend like it's gonna be alright?" the desperation shifted to helplessness, he shook his head and let his shoulders rise and fall. "I can't. I can't... do this any longer. Not this assignment. Not like this. Can't keep her safe, can't lock 'er up and let her wither away, some little thing that's only fault was being... born! "

Claramae: "Come on, she is naeive. There is a difference between this and stupidity, Master Vance. If you would like to hear the particulars you will need to put away your theatrics and your bottle. Along the way you will stop into your room, change your clothes, and calm yourself." Against the tyrade of a great presentation the lady wondered if Vance had ever considered a career in Ursula's line of work. For all his disregard of a professional thespian, weren't they all? Points hurled out deflected against the smooth exterior veneer. A voice, though, same tone. Lower. One might venture to say gentle. "Now are you coming? The dram will wear away in a quarter hour, and there are things that you must know. We are all that she has, and if you are not armed with knowledge, then it will be for naught." Information came a hay-penny a dozen, but that she was offering it to him must have either been an inducted symptom of exposure or the odd place inside of her called 'loyal compassion to one's ally.' (d)

Vance: Vance emotionally rejected her urging, but strangely agreed to it anyway, pulling himself up from the chair, somehow both defiant and compliant. "Fine. " he practically muttered, and moved to follow her away from this place, all the more haggard looking while in motion--good lord, had he even slept since the attack? it wasn't how he liked others to see him--hell, those who formerly worked with Vance might never expect him to be affected so deeply at all. "Fine. Say yer damned peace and let's get on with this damned charade." He was back to calling the act of Spies a Charade, the same revulsion he had for the kind of work when Alendral first pulled him out of prison. Perhaps Alendral had miscalculated in his assessment of Vance in a way he'd never have expected--rather than being so heartless as to hardly care at all, the mere act of it seemed to hit him deeply somewhere along the line.

Claramae: "You should mind your words now, Master Vance. This is a household of women of various ages, and gentlemen." Pandemonium was no reason to breech etiquette. Not even during the seige had a single hint of damnation sullied the language coming from between her lips. Alendral miscalculated in forgetting one core assesment : forget not your humanity. We may seem to be already sacrificed it, but remember that you serve not as immortal Gods. Only as human beings. - Elusha Vittergaust. While Gottschalk's absence of feeling permeated Sorschal's work,he was no more his master than Claramae was truly Vittergaust. But their influences on that were for the better in recalling that even killers, thieves, and the things in the dark cry when they are struck down. "Lady Avalle came today when her student did not come to the castle for her lessons. Amidst the visitation, a plan was put into motion that shall ensure the girl a life as we guard her. Friends of her own age, connections that will allow her greater movement and safety within the spheres. I have no intention of throwing her further into the Halls behind locked doors with only Carlotta or yourself for company."What was this? The other night rumblings of deeply shuttered windows would have disturbed him now the talk of flinging them open was baffling. "But, be it as it may. The solution to your place is not to abandon the post, nor give it place to others. Your pain, is not alien to us nor bereft of a place within." She felt - what - but he was used to the face of no lines. The eyes though had softened. A woman's eyes, indeed. "As you well know what remains of her kindred are dead. She will have questions, and I will stand ready to give her answers, and yet..it is not the time to tell her everything. The news of her family's occupation will startle her enough, and of her parentage. Miss Viscreed is from Avigon, France and Nottingham, England Master Vance, pay you attention? She has been in the cloister four and a half years, and in a strict home for several before that. Her 'father' died because he could not leave well enough alone. He came out of his retirement and hiding to resume work for the Earl of Canterbury, and became obsessed with his brother's work. Janice has seen these works, he was a physic, and an apothecary..so you might imagine the infringement such ghastly drawings might do. It was for this reason she was sequestered further. In life, her mind fractured itself. Sorschal and I held Janice when she was but a very, very small child of no more than toddler age. She does not remember me, nor him, nor the events that cast her far away from that world at her mother's insistance. Do you see, how important this is? There is a war as I told Lady Avalle." They crosed the threshold and she paused here, naturally waiting for him to make himself presentalbe so she stood in the hall (d)

Vance: Vance largely said nothing in the face of information, some of which he knew, some of which he had only scratched the surface of--to his credit, he at least took it in instead of flinging back venom and bile at the face of it. The door slammed shut, there was muffled shuffling as he changed clothes, seemingly contradicting his reluctance further. When he came out, there were signs the man was struggling to pull himself together, however faint. It was like trying to hide his humanity in the face of impassiveness personified. "Bits and pieces and fragments to a clever girl's gonna be enough to let her fill in blanks. This is gonna blow up in yer face." he replied grimly enough, candid enough despite the dour tone. That was, quite firmly, what Vance believed. "You think some midwife-turned Spy is gonna be able to keep her away from the likes of Larkin' and this Gottschalk bastard? The man slipped through nets of guards touring the city and struck in daylight and, what, a handful of maids 'n school chidren are gonna take care of it?" he scowled moderately and folded his arms over his chest. But the last sentiment, that he was still to be her guard. the man stopped dead, looking frustrated. "Protect her...? Protect her? That's what you want me to do? And how am I supposed to do that, Huh? jump at every shadow, every man on the street? The middle'a most respectable part of town and I didn't see 'em comin' 'till it was too late!" he hissed vehemently.

Rosalind: "Rosalind Avalle is the Duchess' lady-in-waiting and keeps the household, you would do well to remember that " Midwife turned spy - alas, the effects of too much liquor perhaps? Claramae did not indulge, and in some strange way had the level of strict piety that Janice and Rosalind as well cleaved to. How strange that such God-fearing women should be in such a place. "You were outnumbered, and no one of our profesion attacks with arms in broad daylight. It is against protocol, and were it any of us we too would not have known. You have learned quickly the ways of this place, think on it. How desperate a sign is it? At the same time it means we must move quickly to replenish our losses and finish this. You will keep her alive, keep her safe so that she may see the end of this, and you? She keeps you the same." She turned about when they were a door from the room and in a strange twist of fate put a hand on his shoulder. "Without attachment, we are inhuman. If we are inhuman, we are nothing. You should not cast aside that which you love. The war will nothing this land is prepared for! And we are all in it now, better or worse, but you must know what we will tell her, and even more. You know her father is dead longer than the man who claimed to be so, now he too and her mother is gone. They believe her to be the 'key' to deciphering the unfinished works and the most recent editions. If like you say her mind may begin to fill in blanks than she is in more danger than ever we realized. Sorschal too will be hunted mercilessly, and any we associate with. We still must keep of the world. We can not sink further, into ourselves, for that is where they strike the first, and hardest blows, Vance. These are places you may never find again." Or if you do, the pain would be too much to bare. Putting her hand to the door she pushed the handle for it was not, for once, locked. "You know as well as I what they look for is untrue. Even if she remembered but one or two things.." Truth be told janice remembered more than she realized. Pictures. Symbols. Enough little things to fill in a larger picture. "They are seeing to release something called The Hydra. This would been when Gottschalk slowly took on each order for his own. If they find nothing from her they will toy with her because she is Jewish.." she whispered "And will believe her to have some knowledge of hebrew. Vance, think you not that she means less to us - to me - than she does you." She said no more right now..and let him pass through first. Janice was beginning to stir, and on the fringe of the door she watched with a thousand thoughts. (d)

Vance: "You understand a spy's mind like nobody else lady. I'll give ya that. and fair insight into the mind of someone else... but me? Ya really haven't got a clue, do you?" he stared hard at her as she chided and spoke, what sounded to him like platittudes and old clever little phrases men of education liked to bandy about, lacking in meaning, choosing only to glower at her. He'd take what she said in the nature of the threat to heart---no fear of that, but if the words were meant to bring some ease to the weight of his heart, he'd found it strongly mistaken. "Just remember when I told you this: This isn't a game. We're not dealin' with dogs. You're playin' the same game they are, but your the one with rules. It's all gonna tumble down. Mark it. Keep it up, and it'll all come tumblin'. " he said the words with chilling, terrible clarity, for Vance believed that all these games, this drawing within walls, hiding within families, was a fools errand--or perhaps it was merely a way to deflect his own failures, as the reassurement that nobody could have handled it better did little to soothe his guilty conscience. He stared, a moment longer, meaningfully at the woman and slipped away a moment later, slipping through the doorway and hovering there, a moment, staring at Janice, meeting her gaze, a pair of vacant eyes in a pair of vacant eyes, and than in an instant he was at her side, crouching down. "Oh Janice... oh god, kid..." the man was practically on the verge of tears, brushing back her hair, painfully relieved to see her alright again.... raw and emotional in the face of her gaze.

Claramae & Janice: "The world is tumbling down, Master Vance, I am only learning to rebuild her foundations." She was by no means the herald of all the answers though felt for Vance. perhaps he should not have been pulled from prison. Mayhaps Janice should have stayed in the nunnery, and had no paths crossed no hearts would be broken. Janice winced softly at the touch to her skin remembering instances of sucking,biting, and piercing. "..mm.." She sounded like a bird that had been snapped in half. Turning to her side, there were bandanges where blood had been let. Her wrist, her forearm. And God, even against her throat. When she opened her eyes fully she got up almost too fast, too quick. Paying for it in being dizzy, she still held him as best as she could, coming only halway up but as he was kneeling, was able to scoot down along the bed and hold him.."Vance.....Vance.." The poor thing was frightened beyond belief. Her peach skin all but white as ashes. The two of them did not belong in this world! But it wanted them. "Sorschal what have I done." She whispered out into the hall. The Lady watched them and gave them peace for awhile. What of it could be spared. "It hurt...so..much. It still hurts. But.was I de..ad?" She asked him the first of many painful questions (d)

Vance: "Shh. It's alright kid. " He held fiercely to the girl as much as she did him. "It's alright. I got you... " he whispered, faintly. "I got you..." the poor thing was a wreck, cut and wounded in places to save her life. The very sight of it, the feeble tone to her voice was enough "No, no sweetheart. You didn't die. What... what you think I'd let you just up and go to Heaven without at least kissin' a boy or somethin?" he chuckled, the ghost of humor he desperatley tried to lift her spirits with. "Not yet, sweetheart, not for a while now." it was platitudes, much as Vance lamented them earlier, but all the same. "Had me worried though, you silly thing. " he was trying. God, he was trying to keep things together long enough to make her feel better, but it was hard. Vance was not a man who burst into tears or poured his heart out often, but just because he didn't show it didn't mean it wasn't there. "Take it easy... gonna take a little while to feel better, alright? Just take it easy."

Janice & Claramae: "Vance, oh Vance." She found herself laughing wearily at his indulgence to affection. Her hands ran down the sides of his face, his back. It was good to feel! Good to breathe! To see! It all hurt like mad though. "I must stay yes? There are so many..things I am not...good at, but I must take care of you." She put her head to his shoulder, letting the tears slide for a moment before wincing. Underneath the gown she wore..it did not take a sage to know those cuts had gone across her belly, upon each thigh. In order to save her, she had to be disected. In order to save her, she had to be seen when not even daylight kissed her feet or wrists. Assistance was had, but whom saw it? Violation without the act itself was still disheartening; modesty sacrificed for life was still hard to fathom. Janice held her belly, rubbing against the bandaging as she layed back in the pillows. "There were others...are they alright..before." The door opened softly as Claramae came in, shutting it. Walking up to the opposite side, the girl said. "Master Laurence? You helped me?" Claramae knelt down to sit on the side of the bed and take her hand. "Of course, child. Lady Avalle came by today to bid you well, you shall be learning once again before you know it. Moving about, seeing a great many things." Janice looked between them, and seemed to be thinking hard on what to say next. Gently and polite for not even laid low could she be less she said, "I do not want to see anymore, it if means that I will be hurt..or Vance. They were hitting him so hard. And a man held me, when all I wanted to do was....to pull him away. People talk. People look. Everyone here stares at me....there must be a reason why. Am I bad?"....

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

...you were only waiting for this moment to arise

blackbird singin' in the dead of night
take these sunken eyes and learn to see
all your life
you were only waiting for this moment to be free...

Claramae & Janice: "No, no. You must never think that. There is merely more to the world than you can devise." "Please......please Master Laurence!" Claramae sunk a little lower beside Janice and craddled her as she curled in over onto her. She and Vance did not belong in this world! But it wanted to pull them in and devour them. "The Order exists to serve the Mo'r Triath and Mo'r Oskeulo, The High Lord and Lady. Between his Golden warriors and her White warriors are the ones of Black. Many places have these, we look, we inform. There are a many things that are done that i will not say to you now, but it is time you know some of the truth.." She paused, as if her eyes were pained with the knowledge of going on. "Are you..is Master Sorschal....am I a..: "No sweet child you are not like them or even us. You remember you said that our place was to look? You are right. All you have ever done is acquire things for our science and balance our books. You are such a good girl, Janice. My sweet child...your father was in this world. They look for you, thinking you have something of his. " Janice blinked once. Twice. Thrice. Wide, vacant eyes. Worn and tired. Hands grasped out to Vance as she shook her head. "Papa was a shopkeeper...her sold medicines he made..he.." "Did things that were out of sorts? Such as the books.." "..books.." She could hardly believe what she was hearing, and looked so shocked, so utterly dumfounded the fact her mind continued to trace pace on the word was astounding. Vance could see it, as if he rmind was pulling up a file from inside of in a cabinet. (d)

Vance: Vance was largely silent while Claramae spoke. soon as she came in, Vance pulled away, believing her more at ease with affectionate nature than he was. better left to her. He wanted to scream at her that now wasn't the time. The poor girl had been through enough, couldn't she see that? but in the face of emotion between the two he felt he could say almost nothing. "Janice... sweetheart, you don't have to dwell on this now. If this is too hard, we can talk later." he said, rather weakly. by now Sorschal had arrived, but he had said nothing nor made a move to speak, he was merely watching in the doorway, impassive and silent. Vance passed him a glance and he'd nod, only once. Of the three, admittedly, Alendral and Janice interacted the least, though it was mostly because of his duties and little because of any lack of feeling towards her. In much the same way he was observing now...

Janice & Claramae: "No, no I want to know...I must know....I don't want to die.." She curled against Claramae, and unaccustomed to this, how strange it would be to see her body melt in an almost maternal way, holding the child in both of her arms as she let herself be eased onto the bed "Shh...shh...there will be no more to say if you aren't calm. You are ill, and pressing you shall only make it worse.." "..please..." She brought her face up to look her in the eyes. "Your Papa...was one between the shadows." She picked a way to tell the story that was truthful, yet not blunt. Almost as if to find a way for the youth to find a gentle path. "Your Papa, was a good man. He helped me when I was not much older than you, and Master Sorschal, too. He healed people with his hands but he had a way, to fight them that was not as you see with swords or the way that other soldiers do." "he....killed?" "Yes, Janice. If he had to, he did. to protect his charges." Then she considered..."But Papa had a weakening hand, that was why he was no longer a physician, how could he kill? And his leg....How could he do these things. He made medicine..he....how could he do that." This by far was the hardest part. "Master Laurence!" She pulled away and out of bed, falling to her knees before the woman.."TELL ME! I DONT UNDERSTAND! HE SENT ME AWAY WHEN I SAW THE BOOK...I didn't mean to look..I swear it to you..I didn't mean, God forgive me ..I didn't.." She broke into pieces, "He...he....the drawings.....what was he doing? The people that came after.." Claramae beckoned Vance over, and Sorschal, for support as she took her hands. "Stop it..stop it!" She soothed her, felt her trembling. "Janice...your father....is not your father. He has led you to believe so all your life to spare you.." "NO!" "Master laurence say not that lie! My Papa would not lie...but...he did....no he would not about this! Mama.." "Child your mother is your mother, but the man you call Papa is your uncle..your father's brother....your father is Vittergaust, Elusha Vittergaust.." She had seen that name! "There...there was a...a book..it..it said..Vi..Vittergaust.....n'.....n' mama took it away.." She began to pace..fingers drawing on the air as if recalling..."But our name is Vis..Viscreed.." Poor child! She dissolved into the wall and grew dizzy (d)

Alendral:"Your father loved you, Janice." the words came from Sorschal, soft and laced with meaning. "Your Papa loved you, your mother loved you. They only wished that you live a life apart from this. It wasn't your fault, dear... he knew the men sought you, and brought the book to light to better prepare them. That you discovered it was only coincidence. " Vance stayed close, but said nothing, only looked between them, helpless in the face of a history he barely understood. Drawing to Clara's side, he ran a handover her head. "Janice.... the only terrible people here are the ones who seek to take innocence from you. You've done nothing wrong, I promise. Clara and I loved your father as one of yours... we each love you as Brother and sister would. That's why we tried to keep this from you... I'm sorry, Janice. Truly I am. I was wrong. We all were, but you didn't do anything wrong at all." he pracitcally whispered now. "Janice... the family name has always been Vittergaust. Your father was of Jewish blood, but served under the Church. the name was to hide him and family from harm. When the time was right, he would have told you, were it not for the work of evil men. Come here.. look at me. I want to show you something." the Illusionist smiled, faintly. Of the three of them, in a weird sense, Alendral had worked with children the most, and kept his tone gentle and soft.

Janice:"But..Papa.." She sobbed for that which she knew to be Papa, for her Mama, to go home. What was home? The girl hadn't seen the steps of the store in years bordering over four, halfway to five. Even then..outside had not been seen. "Papa..Mama.." Her voice slipped into an accented French, for she spoke this with likes to Lady Avalle. A subject that did not need much correction save for peasent words replaced by better forms. What form could replace this? Sorschal's touch to her head brought her closerto him as she held him, struggling to understand. Her eyes beseeched him.. don't leave me..don't leave me.."what..what....do..do you want to show me..I don't understand Master Sorschal.......we are not Jews........i was...baptized and Mama.......she was so strict I prayed 5 times a day...." She followed him where he would lead (d)

Alendral: "It is in your blood, Janice. They feared the wrath of Inquisition even if their faith was strong. That was the only reason they hid it child, there was no shame in it. " the Illusionist held the young girl, quiet and comforting, though what she suffered wore heavily on him as much as the assembled. "Look... look here. You know my trade, do you not?" meaning Illusionist, not spy, naturally. "And the most important part of our trades is secrets. So I'm going to give you something that means you'll staywith us forever, for to do otherwise would be to break my promise, and so you could bring my trade to ruin. " he bid her follow his hand and, in a smooth flick of his wrist revealed a faint necklace, simple silver, and a locket contained within. He than leaned and whispered against her ear. On the grounds there is a wagon, in it the tools of my trade. Beneath the wardrobe, a board loose contains a small chest. The key is in the chest, in it is a journal, where all my secerts are held. Your name is the Cypher, the name of your father, the secret he let all he loved know, that he would have let you know when time was right. You have them all now." he drew back, faintly, and ran fingers over her hair. "...Now that you know this, you stay with me forever. So we will never leave you, Janice. I promise..."

Janice:"The Inquisition frightens me, sir. They passed through the country on their way to Paris....and in Paris they did unspeakalbe things. There can not be that many ungodly people in the world" She nodded with a statement showing that a wisdom was there waiting to be ignited. A spark just needing to be given fuel to become a fire. That was a keen observation. "But why did my Pa--uncle," she corrected ehrself, tearing up again, "or mama never say so..." His trade? Why of course she did....she acquired the tools for his show, and Claramae? She gathered her things for science and great decisions. And Vance - well, she would find him a good wine that made him not nearly as drunk as vile scotch and certainly didn't find him women! Once upon a time, a little girl heard a secret and on that day the door to a world opened up. She was the key, he said, and all the answers at her feet were to be laid. On that day, she looked at him with the eyes of a young woman instead of a girl for an instant as it sank in to her. "They are dead...aren't they?" She whispered, shaking like a leaf once again as the empowerment of knowledge seemed to fade in the realization that if they came for her - what then of Papa, for he would always be papa to her - and Mama had been ill...(d)

Alendral:Alen hesitated at the poor girl's realization, but it was too late now. " They would have, when you were old enough to understand, dear. They meant no malice in hiding it from you. ..Yes. Child. I am afraid so. We have only recently found out. We were to tell you when this happened. I'm sorry Janice... truly, I am." the illusionist, warm as he'd ever been, rocked the child gently as the innocence was ripped from her in one fell swoop. Words now would mean far less than the comfort of being near. He passed a silent glance to Claramae and simply held to her while the tears inevitably came, the others nearby, if nothing else to remind her that she had people who cared for her here, even if they knew each other so briefly. "Their last wish was to bring you to us so that we might keep you safe, Janice. They loved you very much, and they wanted to see you safe... and everyone here? They love you too. And we'll see you safe no matter what happens. I promise you. This will be over soon.. you'll marry, you'll grow clever and brilliant, and you'll be at home. It's okay child... it's okay..."

Janice & Claramae:"B...but who would want me.....I....I'm.." Claramae came beside Sorschal and smoothed her hair. "Oh my child, who would not want you? So clever, so sweet and kind. If your father could have chosen from a hundred matches, he would have given his daughter a Prince." "But...the Church...J.." The cloister walls and a Catholic upbringing would put fear into the heart of any who were told of a Jewish family member. "The Duke and Duchess would never allow such vile things here. You are safe.." She was held by Sorschal, touched by Claramae, but the one peson who was missing was Vance. These three were all she had in the entire world. All others were good - and given time she would love them whole heartedly - but this was her family now. "You won't send me away?" The pitiful question moved even Claramae to tears as she shook her head no (d)

Alendral: "Never, Janice. This is your home, and you shall not leave it unless you wish it. I promise." he said, voice as soft and deliate near the slip of a thing, childlike in her fears, left to her own so much that she had so little to cling to her in life, the taste of it too fearful to let go of now. "Welcome home..." he pressed a faint kiss atop her head and passed Claramae a meaningful look, while Vance stayed closed, but stopped short of touching. How could he? he felt deeply for the child as much as the two, but knew little of the history. Feeling awkward and struggling with his own grief, he touched the child lightly by her hand, but said nothing else. Merely being there was all he could offer the poor thing, much as it tugged on his heart to say anything.

Janice & Claramae:

"Master Laurence, are you still going to England?"
"Yes, my dove. There is something there that I must do to protect us."
"Take a letter..home? That was where we last lived..before I went back to France...to say goodbye?"
"Yes..of course."

She surrendered the want to hold, merely letting them go after the need to comfort was passing. There was a sense of numbness creeping up her spine. Eyes moved, tears? They wouldn't fall. She merely went over to the window and touched the glass. One room so beautiful.But one of many ways to imprison. "She needs you now. You need know nothing of her other than that she loves you, and you her." The Master did not stay in the room of broken innocence and shattered lives, in fact, she turned the corner and found that even she had to catch her breathe. (d)

Alexander: Only when she had shown all signs of being worn down would Alendral lead Vance and the other out of the room, looking contemplaitive as the others struggled with emotions. On the face of it looked like Alen remained his poise--though who know better knew that he had merely gained a clarity of focus. "..We eradicate them. No more games. We've not Maubery to fear for now. They mean to prey on our humanity to wipe us out? Let us show them none of it. I want to hear nothing but us coming closer to them dead.. understand? I want Mannering dead, and Krause dead, and Larkin dead. " no sympathy for the traitor. let Claramae mourn the silence. "The game's over. They won't play by the established rules, than neither do I. When you see Rosalind again, send her to me. I need that pastard Peregine and I need him here now." he passed them each a quiet glance than, lingering on Clara's gaze before he reached up a hand to touch her shoulder, than slipped away entirely. Vance merely watched him go.

Claramae: "You will have this." She gave assurance to all he'd requested and more. The tightness in her chest bordered on suffocation transfering to no sign of strain as she lowered herself in curtsy. He touched a shoulder, then slipped away leaving her with Vance as she all but shut her eyes a moment. To have dug so hard for what humanity they had and now to burry it? "To save her, to save him, I will go to England. I will tear down every building if I must." He was in no less danger now than the innocent who's life lay shattered in pieces she couldn't fix. Turning to Vance, put a hand to his shoulder as Sorschal had to her, only this time she would follow him down the hall to see that the demons of the past did not linger. "Alexander.." His name called only when far enough were they away.."Alexander wait.." An quickness in his step. The chill in his voice was a red moon rising. (d)

Alendral:"What...!?" Alexander's response was terse, cold in the face of it. he knew full well what it was she feared and part of him made him boil. "Don't. Claramae. don't. I haven't lost my way. I won't become his shadow just because I mean to wipe their legacy clean from this Earth, but I will not wait for them to make vicitms out of innocent people. No. It ends here. now. " pointed at the floor, knife-edged in its clarity. "No more Nightmares, no more victims stumbling int he night stripped of humanity and no more broken little girls! The line has been crossed too many times, they've been tolerated and feared for too long. They want to see a monster? I've lived too long for this, and if they want to see what a real monster can do, I'll show them a monster that would put the fear of god into Gottschalk himself!" the Illusionist was more passionate than he had ever been, but there was a viciousness there despite it. Depsite all work, the shadows of an old Alexander were creeping out, and struggled to get a hold of himself. "...With Maubery gone, we can address them in our midst. The undercity is the only place they can be, to strike in the patterns they do. That damned Pirate is their king, and if he doesn't lend its secrets to me, than I'll find a replacement for him who can."

Claramae: "Stop it. Be still, be still!" The hand that waved upward was captured as if it were a swarming fly with reflex to be he envy of even a dancer. Swift, she caught it before capturing the other one. He was becoming consumed by his thoughts, rage frothing over like a stew left to sit on a fire too hot. "We will end this...but you will end yourself sooner if you do not pay heed to it! Hold fast to it, Alexander. Conquer it, find quiet, move on." Remember the days of yore when a young man was told to find repose in places where none was to be had? When a girl, beautiful as spring and chilled as winter instructed him? "Find it..and move on." (d)

Alendral The frustration was reluctantly released in a moment, meeting her gaze and being quieted by it. He found poise in her words, and after a minute he moved forward and kissed the lady on the cheek, an impulsive gesture, but one that seemed to work the tension out. "...Of course, Claramae. I'm sorry that I...." he took a solid breath than, trying to get hold of the poise that was momentairly gone, and with that, he had left again, slipping into his quarters to try and calm himself, sparing a thought for the poor girl in the room, the last of a tie, the distant figure in her life who found himself occupying the position of Vittergaust himself, and forced to wonder the fate he shared to Janice would be the same as her old father...