Life Likened to a Game -Beathag Alendral,Claramae-

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

"There's more, Ah take it, sae tell it n' why ye would defect from ye o' sae precious London town, King, n' country tae reside on an isle o' a nation o' blasphemers, heathens, n' lowly folk. There had better be wot Maubrey knows in there. Ye are earnin' mah belief n' trust, Master Sorchal. Work for it boy."

"My lady, I may be a fool, am most certainly not brave, but what I am, frankly, is troubled. This has forced me to conduct matters in a slightly circumventious route." he sighed momentairly following dutifuly as they moved to . speak more privately about sensitive matters. "I confess I have no love for the Crown myself, as of late, but that's not the topic of this discussion, so let us move to more pressing matters."

Alendral: When Claramae said she would 'make introductions' Alendral didn't know what to think really. He was floored enough that the woman had the ear of the Duchess, but the last thing he wanted was a personal appointment with the woman to up and confess his unseemly history and unsettling facts. nonetheless, she had come calling and leaving Alendral grimly setting about the task of prepairing, suddenly wishing he had cracked open the bottle of wine before all this.All adorned in the fineries of nobility--decide to cut a more somber figure today, deep crimson silk jacket, black tunic and leggings, the Illusionist looked almost uncharacestically nervous--impending death putting a considerable damper on the usual excitement that came with whining and dining someone who amassed a small fortune. It didn't help that Claramae spoke in terms that were not terribly optomistic--far be it from him to expect that she would 'cheer him up' but it was fairly telling that Claramae herself suggested it because the other options were all worse. At least it was somewhat comforting to know his 'friend' didn't particujlarly care to see him offered on the execution block enough to put herself on the line for it.



Beathag: The doors were open, the guards installed in their posts. The page waiting to show the people in, and the woman whom they sought to see seated in her high backed chair. What could be said of the Duchess that Alendral would have heard from associates or read in his notes: "She is a tall woman, with the height of a man and only mere inches under some of those given exceptional footing. She is featured like a Scottish-Celt, a Scandavian. The region's green eyes, at once a trait of the Viking conquests and the region. White skin, lily speckled from the sun. A head of wheat colored hair. Her temprement is fabled to be one of immediate displeasure if one is not forthright, and violent, if highly displeased. Not born to the higher stations, persay, her blood.." Paper could only tell so much. Like it told her that the Avarian Ambassador was coming to speak on some matter or other, her name was Countess St. Laurence, and in her company would be a man of some repute who wished to convey a matter of great imporantce. All matters were deemed important by those who would have her hear them. (d)

Alendral: It was those notes that marked her to people such as Alendral and Claramae as the most dangerous kind. Nobility was predictable. They could be manipulated, conversation could be lead, the game could be played. But a woman like Beathag refused to play by the rules. Make the wrong impression, say the wrong thing, and pay a swift price. It put people like him off balance, which was doubtless why she enjoyed any success, if it didn't lead to complications elsewhere. Worse, yet, she did not tolerate the 'games' of the Noble court so frequently, and to that, Alendral's deepest concern was what came naturally from such notes. She detested spies. that much he would guess. The values of honesty and virtue were fine--unless one made a career circumventing them. Alendral strode in, all matters of confidence till he stopped before the Duchess, falling to a single knee and bowing his head as a sign of respect, his already setting to race in a dozen directions. He had to play this carefully--so very carefully... his life was on the very line here, and he knew it.

Claramae: It was better for Alendral to approach the situation with a zealot's sense of proving himself than with a lax sense of reality. If he wished to abide by the notes alone, his friend was of no mind to correct him lest another oversight present itself. There were far too many things to take care for of late: alliances to affirm on ground already split open thus a silver tongue to parlay the fact that they still stood even as they fell to the bottom of the unknown. Unbeknowest to them, there were other factions to continue an alliance with, Steward or no Steward. Secondly, this debacle with the encroaching English presence was good for none who claimed one drop of English heritage or that had ever set an odd foot on English soil. Alendral was two-foot treason walking while Claramae was two-feet of treachery gliding over the floors of conjoined stone. Under foot of silver shoe came the surrendering of stone to the cold, whistful designs engraved in Marble. Never one step ahead nor behind Master Sorchal, Claramae lowered into a deep curtsy with no risen eyes.--

Beathag: Pretention was dismissed in the woman they came to visit. The high backed chair, though high and ornate, was not a risen dias or throne. A snake of gold coiled in braid over the shoulder while the remnants were twisted in to bun in the back of her head. The face, fully in view was placid, waiting to be painted with some emotion or other. Green eyes - sharp. "Rise, n' take the seat nearby yeself. Good day tae ye, Lady Ambassador, n' tae ye, Master Sorchal is it?" Brogue was thick, thick as the fog over the Celtic countries. Time is what made it coherent, an evident to another note: Her native language was Scott's Gaelic and Norwegian. What the notes did not say were that she was somewhat youthful in scope, given her age of 35 years. It didn't say that she retained a startling pair of eyes, nor that she could even be considere beautiful despite the evident scars that were visible. Light lines on her hands, the remnants of a noose under the silver Griffin charm she wore, accopanied by the ribbon holding a moderate sized emerald in place. (d)

Alendral: "Indeed, my lady. Thank you." Show time he thought grimly. By lord, the woman was striking, the kind of fanciful painting through the ages, the beauty that would be passed down through tales. She was timeless, eternal, despite the fact he knew her to be his elder by a good decade. Rising to his feet in a smooth gesture, he'd collect himself, pass Claramae a hesitant glance before moving to be seated. "... And my thanks for your audience, as well. I know that you have many matters to consider during these times... so I will endeavor not to beholden more of your time then necessary. That said, let me get right to the point." She did value forthrightness after all. It seemed insane, but getting right to the point seemed the best way to deal with this--to deal with her. "I have learend many things in my travels... some of which perhaps were best left hidden. Among them was something I believe may be important
to both Kingdom of Skye and of personal importance to you... and they've cost me a great deal to learn them. "

Beathag: "There's nay need tae thank me, yet, Master Sorchal. Hearin' and seein' is part o'the way when title is given ye. " As he moved she watched him as if to record his ever action. No one had written that her eyes were so expressive, or the color that vivid as to be almost unnerving when she looked straight ahead - like now - at him. Leaning forward in the chair, hands held the arms with a slight grip before releasing them so palms could be on the knees. His travels had taught him things and now he came so far to tell her. "Ye are the second person," she said in a breath released, "tae come tae me with somewhat tae say. Must be a case o' ironin' up the bullock o' a man n' brassin' his girth tae cross o'er the borders n' up the steps. Could be tha' someone else wot heard it would've dragged ye in bound.." Fingertip tapped over the chair's arm, "Or killed ye where ye stood..but here ye be right afore me, n' with the Countess there as means tae introduce ye. Sae..wot has cost ye a great deal tae learn, Master Sorchal. Because in m'end tis almost damned me, m'kin, as much as it should lift us sae gae on then." (d)

Alendral: Well that went better then expected. The illusionist stiffened subtly and considered her words for a moment, deciding just how to much to divulge at first. With a deep, rattling breath he met the gaze of the Duchess and decided, rather strangely, to disclose everything. He could not explain why--and he would very likely wonder what ever posseessed him to do in the first place.... but for now, the unspeakable need to do so seized him, perhaps as a response to her display as trust. "Very well, my lady. As a show of respect, I will hide no truth. It is true... that I am by all measures an Illusionist by trade... but I wasn't always. The truth is, my lady, that I once served underthe Crown of Englad, as an informer and... " he paused a long moment for effect. "... A spy. My lady, though I can truly say I have murdered not a single member fo your kingdom in my travels. I tell you this because, knowing that I have offered this truth to you, that I have stripped myself of all defenses and now rest at your mercy, should you decide the information to be false or damning. I place myself in your hands... and because they will offer me no safe haven now. I've been labeled a traitor for what I have learned, and thus they seek to silence the secrets I carry, for they could undermine every plan and preparation of Lord Maubery himself... I am certain you familiar with the name. " He stared to her, leaden with expectation, wondering deliriously if he had completely miscalculated.

Clarmae: Careful, Alendral, careful go. Thread 'pon the hound's resting place with care. Her mind continued to reel with the thought continual as each breathe, word said was a calculated play at a spy's hardest, if not most abused adversary: The truth. When eyes upon her got as if to say, 'What have you brought here?' she lifted her head with no sign of apology or trepidation. Demure, respectable, but no face for ignorance. It had no room here. Vast as the space was, it seemed smaller by confines in presence of the large woman who controlled, with her husband, regions second only to the King of Scotland. Let us be frank: The King seemed to seek them out for meeting and give more for beneath their banner. Powerful indeed. She watched, she listened. Should she disprove of Alendral, then she would have to find a way to secure him elsewhere, should she approve, one portion the list was complete. They could be eyes for one another, ears, European politics afterwall was a fickle business. Rewarding but fickle. One tides turn could topple the house of cards built with care on one precarious ideal. If he heard word of Avaria on the mouths of diplomacy he would say so, controverse if she heard something of the region he stayed. It was capital, really. Comiserate on the Lady's ...perception of course, but capital. There was an alliance, and thus subsquent things to guard behind it at any cost. No, Alendral was not put on the block of that cost, but too many English folk in one place made for no good company, especially if one was named Maubrey. Oh, pish! It was all so twisted..-

Beathag: "Sae an Illusionist, how dae I know all o' this isn't an illusion? Tis one brave man or stupid git tae say all tha' with wide open doors n' in the earshot o' guards, m'personal guardian..." A hand swept out and back, where behind her Sir Kendrew stood in his usual place. At a distance for respect of presence but make no mistake, he would cross the floor of his own accord if either one of them got too many ideas. He hated the flavor these audiences were taking as it made his job far harder to do, but who doesn't rise to a good challenge? Beathag went on, taking leave of her chair to walk towards the Illusionist. Long gait, sure stride carried her hence to him in a shorter time than he thought a woman ought normally have. "The castle at large, but especially m'self. If I wanted tae, your throat would be broken like a piece o' kindling for e'en dare to meddle where tis no concern o' yours. The Crown o' England is a lie, tis a piece o' shyte encrusted gold with gems, but it still stinks like shyte. It's power beh built on the backs o' liars, thieves, greed, n' they claim it all under God because they put two damn sticks taegether n' called it a Cross. For all the fightin' we dae n' our losses, Ah wonder how many women in England mourn thrice more than our women for the bodies sent back or the missin', for as much as a Scottish woman 'as cried now England will cry all the more. If tha' bastard callin' himself a man, King Edward pays e'en one lout tae take a hair from the head o' m'family I will have his hand!" Powerful voice devoid of anything but curt, punctual belieft with no sense of trying to wait for his pause. A hand clenched and unclenched. "There's more, Ah take it, sae tell it n' why ye would defect from ye o' sae precious London town, King, n' country tae reside on an isle o' a nation o' blasphemers, heathens, n' lowly folk. There had better be wot Maubrey knows in there. Ye are earnin' mah belief n' trust, Master Sorchal. Work for it boy." (d)

Alendral: "My lady, I may be a fool, am most certainly not brave, but what I am, frankly, is troubled. This has forced me to conduct matters in a slightly circumventious route." he sighed momentairly following dutifuly as they moved to . speak more privately about sensitive matters. "I confess I have no love for the Crowd myself, as of late, but that's not the topic of this discussion, so let us move to more pressing matters." he was a nervous wreck despite himself , but to his credit he didn't betray a bit of it, his expression hardening imperceptively. as he continued. "I 'defected' because my loyalty was rewarded with the label of traitor and a price on my head worth a small kingdom in and of itself. I 'defected' because I sacraficed everything and received even less then what a Spy should expect. but none of that matters to you, and I expect no sympathy for it. I won't lie to you. I believed in all manners of Divine right for my country... and I will not lie when I say that your words wound me even today. " he replied grimly before squaring his shoulders. "But in all my loyalty, I still have my own morality, and it can not abide by what I have seen. The Lord Maubery seeks to claim the throne as his own--this you know, do you not? What you do not know is that Maubery is closer to the claim then you might know--and he has worked ceaselessly to steal it from They are your husband Beathag, and by extension, you."

Beathag: "Ye are a brash fool tae use m'name," She seemed to growl, looking to him as he followed her footsteps for trailing over his own, "n' if all this wounds ye. Let it. Tha' is the reward ye get for this lot, Master Sorchal. Your belief in Divine Right for ye country means little tae me. There is nothin' divine about the carnage, the slaughter, in the maliciousness tha' Ah've seen in mah lifetime. There is nothin' holy 'bout a lineage tha' cares more for conquest than for its own people. Ah've been tae London, n' Surrey, n' Nottinghmam, Suffolk, the entire lot o' it. Ah've traded with people who've lost their wealth on a lord's whim backed by a King. While people are dyin' o' plague there, up here they died o' English Pox, aye it has a name. " She regarded him all the same with her unadulterated texts. A regal posistion for bold words was dangerous, no wonder the Aberdeens were making a sensation in Europe. Someone else might catch their flu of brain and mouth."Still, ye are braver than' ye think. I could outright kill you m'self. There isn't a person who does nay know tha', n' tae say ye don't would be a lie, n' ye haven't lied yet sae dun begin tae now. Sacrifice is done with little mind for much in return other than the love o' a country, sae, tha' I can respect. Scotland has killed many who love 'er, I suppose Adam n' I be but fortunate we have thicker hides. Lord Maubrey is his father. He is related tae meh by marriage alone. He was a shadow o'er Adam, his mother, n' her family for years. It seems he was the bane m'mother tried tae worn them of but hands were tied, as they rose tae lift them, all of them were dead by the end. Except Adam. His grandfather was the Lord o' this place, o' the Isles. Ye know the region is large. Ah trust if ye can keep secrets ye read maps." She pointed over to what hung behind the chair. " See for yeself." The Inner Hebrides, the Outer Hebrides were their's by birthright, it was much of anything floating off the Scottish main coast that had been given to Lordship by the King long, long ago (d)

Alendral: Alendral listened intently, saying nothing, abiding each and every insult to her heritage. Were he more inclined to believe her a typical kind of nobility, he'd suspect the majority of it a test--to see him bristle as she continued to curse them, and name them all manners of evil, even imply his brothers friends dead at her hands. It was a customary so of strength, and he had expected it. Narrowing his eyes subtly as he contemplated where to speak of next, his eyes traveling over the map. "... Mm.. a near masterful play by Lord Maubery... speaking professionally of course." he turned his eye back to the woman without. "Maubery's mistake was in Adam's survival. I suspect his grandfather more clever then he gave him credit for.It was Maubery's hand that saw his wife's own father dead, at the very altar that would seal his claim to the throne. I suspect he knew something of the treachery and arranged Adam in secret ... I also, it seems, know more of your personal importance more then you do. Tell me, m'lady... what's your familiarity with the Harpists of old?" he folded his hands and scrutinized her suddenly, beginning a slow circle till he was at the other side of the map.

Beathag: "Maubrey killed his wife's father, Adam's grandfather, o'er the altar he prayed on. Killed the man's poor young daughter tae. He is a monster, iffn he gets wot he wishes ye can stake your life on the fact tha' half o' England will run red as the inside o' a fruit when he is done dismantlin' anyone who was loyal tae the old king. Wot he did on this Isle near 30 years agae will look like the play o' a child. He has nay care for kith, kin, or country. He wants all countries. King o' the Celts, they call it. Aye, he doesn't know his son is alive but he'll find our soon enough. As for m'self? Master Sorchal, ye notes must nay tell ye much. Hire a better scribe." She retorted, looking out of the window beyond the map, to the sea the same as was painted. Brogue softened as she relayed, "I beh the descendant o' the Lord MacRauri's wife, Lara o' Aberdeen. Same as m'mother afore me. She saw Lara akin tae a great aunt n' we are thus cousins tae Adam's mother n' grandmother. Adam is m'husband as well as a distant cousin after a fashion. The women o' m'family were Harpers n' Bards, a few men. mostly women. Council tae lords, music, sage advice, wisdom. harpers are sae great a prize they are carried off tae war tae play on the front lines. Ah e'en know tha' the fabled High Harper o' His Majesty, The Chieftain's daughter our truth comes from was ne'er referred tae by her given name, in fact nay one paid kin tae it n' called her everything else but it...n her name was Beathag. We stumbled 'pon tha, Master Alendral, long ago. Beginnin' in the Solarium, then in the windows, the tapestry. The castle is a record o' history. M'life is a record o' history m'mother e'en wrote down, she was installed here as the Lord's High Harper. Many o' m'memories were lost save those writings n' this castle n ...bein' with Adam restored some o' them. Losin' ye memory is wot happens when ye've had it beat out o' ye, Master Sorchal." He could tell by the tone of her voice that was no exaggeration, if he wished to be honest with her she would be just as candid with him. "Ah was taught tae play the harp, m'mother said she was nay longer in service in mah lifetime when indeed she was up until her death. Ah still have tha' harp. The harp o' generations. N' with all tha' legend has come a great deal o' heartache, hurt, n' pain. Sae wot e'er it costs ye tae know it, tis compared with nothin' when ye live it. When ye are it." (d)

Alendral: "Nothing wrong with my scribes my dear, only that you miss a crucial piece of the puzzle. and that's just it. You, and the High Harpists are far more important than you could possibly know!" his words suddenly became flush with urgency, and he spun rapidly on her to fix her. "I visited the same castle, in the guise of just such a scribe. I was there, recording, ensuing that a few precious gems were hidden from the eyes of the Kingdom. and until you come to understand the legacy you are vulnerable. Listen closely to me, because there's a final angle to this. Maubery is aware of titles--but he knows full well if he seizes the throne in bloody coup his people will not follow. Your lands reputation of being exceptionally stubborn is well deserved. He must win the hearts and minds of the people, and so he will drag up on the most sacred symbols. " At that he withdrew a small necklace from his pocket-- ironically a trinket he had bought for Eo a few nights before, rejected, holding it's symbol to her eye. "There is one more thing Maubery sought the day he murdered his kin. This 'Brooch of Skye' as it's called. Maubery believed it within his grasp and believed that, once had it, his place would be fit. Only the Brooch was gone! The heirloom to be passed to him was not on his father that day, like he expected it, and with it his heritage. if he obtains the Brooch then no rightful claim will hold it. He will take his place. But therein lies the conundrum... where is it? It is deemed lost, and the trail has become lost... " the illusionist smiled suddenly, an almost strange parody of the showman's smile, layered with intent. "Now consider this. With you, one of the few bearers of the legacy... forgotten, the memories 'beat out of you' as you have said... so has any sign of the Brooch, or indeed the slightest hint of its last resting place... an.. interesting circumstance, no?"

--- End Part 1 ---

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Beathag: "Dun presume any word near o' affection with me, " she cautioned him, his use of'dear' too familiar, too personal for her liking along with his distance to her. Intrigue was sickening on the basis that how far it often went, how high or deep was dizzying. To be patient - to have to suffer these games go one - was just too much. But for the sake of knowledge, she held her hand. Listening to him even as her hands seemed to tense at mention of being a scribe in 'that' castle. Even in so much as him speaking of Lord MacRauri as Maubrey's father...there was something in hearing it referred to that way that was sickening, unacceptable. Her eyes widened to hear the rest of the plan before narrowing. That hand, her hand, took hold of his shoulder and began to quake. The pressure in that grip! Fable true in this case, she did have the force of a man! "You...were here...this is tha' castle. This is tha' castle whereare housed those.....things. Ah should be considerin' how best tae kill ye, n' if it should be quick or slow.." She was fuming, but her voice did not raise above its regular pitch. She had learned a great amount of self control since her ascention, but no one was perfect."MacRauri'ps brooch, his whole reign, was for his only livin' heir. Adam's mother, or did ye nay know that..iffn ye dun want me tae break ye arm, dun refer tae Maubrey as MacRauri's son. Tha'...brooch...belongs tae Adam, when it is found. Not if, Sorchal. when. Now take this in ye education: The only reason he is a son by law was his marriage tae Adam's mother. Dae ye know wot he did tae his wife n' son. Dae ye? Davena was in hidin' most o' her life. The upheavels n' Scotland are nothin' new, n' her father sent his first n' only remainin' daughter tae England. It was Maubrey tha' had her heritage restored her n' seemed like a fook'in hero. Sae dun tell me tae consider a thing. Sae...our lives are foder for the scribes n' history tae be searched on. Well search well 'pon this, next piece. Mah memories are fixed as well as they can beh, I remember a far cry more than ye papers will e'er tell ye, n' would ye like tae know why pieces o' me are fractured..did ye read about the Bishop, did ye aread about the prisons ....did ye read about wot they dae tae people there boy.." He was treading on some dangerous ground. "Ah KNOW wot imporantce Ah beh in the end. Dun ye think tha' Adam hasn't already told me tha' boy? Wot dae ye think, we sit here while your sort figure everythin...Gods know how ye get in here.... I dun e'en want tae know how ye got in here, twill only serve tae anger meh e'en more." (d)

Alendral: "I told you. I was a spy. I did my duty for my country, and nothing more. But if it's any bloody consolation they contemplate the same fate, so go bloody ahead!" He'd hit his wits ends with threats and dark contemplations of the legacy of its people, and we believe that such knowledge is the key. I may not understand your importance as a true native to this country might--but I know, were I the man who was hunting the Brooch, that my search for it would begin and end with you. Because my search, Duchess. Do you get that? The harpist is the key to the Brooch, Duchess. And Maubery believes the same thing I do. That you bloody well have it. Now I hear that he means to come here with his.. his pet assassin! " he threw up his hands at the mention and suppressed a shudder at the very thought, stepping away from her sharply, obviously quite animated in his frustration. "The last thing I had learned before they declared me a traitor was that your mother was the last known holder of the heirloom, and we've re-traced the woman's every step since then,a nd found nothing! If Maubery comes here, then he's picked up the scent Duchess. He believes that you hold the key to his reign, and woe befall any who fall in front of him. Once he has it, your dear 'husband' will be a trivial matter to deal with. " he was trembling at this point, so full of... something, and he allowed himeslf the giddy thought. This is it. I'm a dead man. even given everything he did, he had, in doing so, revealed himself to her--the depths of his own 'treachery'. Hell.. he thought. I've spent so much time behind masks that I can't navigate without one!

Beathag: "Ye will ne'er know how much we have suffered for this! Never! Ye lost your country, Master Sorchal. Your standin', dae ye know wot we have lost? People!" She pulled her hand back from his arm, though leveled a solid back hand against his face. Filled with rage, new knowledge, enlightened perspectives touched on a very deep seated fear. "Look around ye, did your precious books n' notes tell ye tha' there is nothin' of the MacRauri left but Adam, or tha' I be the last person from Aberdeenshire, if there are others...Gods knows where they are? O' tha' family, mah mother's family I am the last one. This lineage has cost us everythin' we may have e'er dared tae love or stood tae fight for. N' your tellin' me....my momther...ye know....I did nay wish to know tha', but I must know. Dae ye know how many things I know tha' I ne'er want tae hear? How...mah father...sired two families. Tae know these things make m'brother seem as though he is nothin n' reminds me tha'm'father forgot us! Ah have tae have a care with his heart but my own cripples under it. Adam cripples under it though he pushes onward. M'mother was the last one with it...she died afore she could tell me any o' this, I had tae read it tae..tae decipher all these damnable riddles! " She tossed up her hands as she passed,her voice rolling out of open doors for a time until those posistioned closed them on behest of Kendrew. "Sae now...." she seethed....turning to face Claramae. "Wot is it, ye wanted me to do with him, again, Countess.."

Clarmae: This could go very horrible to the ultimate end of worse if action was not quickly taken. Losing no sense of composture, Claramae moved across the floor. Air rife with tension, she lifted her hand to place to the Duchess' hand with a shake of head."Now, before you cripple Master Sorchal, you should pause to what he says - as hard as it might be to take in, Your Grace." It would be useless to the cause, a setback, if she were to lay him out here. There had been enough witnesses and one knew that no matter how sworn to secrecy, there would always be one who'd chirp if the price for a song was correct. It stood, thus, to change what they'd sing about. "He is correct. The knowledge he has is no less than I would have, nor any other worth their profession's merit. So it stands now for you to use this to your advantage, and...doing off with your source is not a good form, your Grace." As the hand went to rise again, she pushed back to lower it. Kinesthetics. Long, lithe, compact sinew could pack a force against brute strength, if placed right. "What he has told you comes in advance of Lord Maurbrey's arrival, does it not? So it would then behoove you to see those of import know, and, to consider that this man infiltrated this castle, it matters not when or before your arrival or after. History is what it is, you are what you are and there is no changing that. I suggest you use his intelligence and skill to your advantage. Master Sorchal is a man with no ties to England lest he wish to have no head, nor is it prudent at this time to seek employment on the continent. Our sorts do have their scruples. On this matter, and in others, you'd be hard pressed to find better ears, eyes, hands, or a more adapt mind m'lady." (d)

Alendral: Alendral refused to speak to either of them while the Countess spoke on his behalf. he knew it would do no good. He had delivered what he had promised, now it was up to Clara to smooth things over--though given her heritage, he found himself wondering if such a thing were possible. Rubbing his cheek awkwarldy as he fixed hard stare at the Duchess, tensely waiting for what would come of this fate, passing only the subtlest glances to the way of Clara. he'd he'd be surprised if such persuasion would actually work. Given The Duchess' words, he sincerely doubted she'd pay much favor to an Englishman, regardless of his relative use.

Claramae: "You see it as well as I, Lady Aberdeen," A step below first formality, to the second. She was entitled to that - did not Beathag say so herself? " How it works, you have been practicing well enough to know that these days where you are born has little kenning to where one places allegiance anymore. Your continued devotion to a country splitting at the seams is commendable, but rare. Now, why not take a forgotten son of England, loyal to know one and show the power of your husband's Griffin, influence, your might, and ancestral name? In time a forced accord turns to true loyalty and once that is given, we are indispensable to our causes. He would be the most thrilling of entertainment and the most skilled of informers. Imagine, burning boxes of women to nothing while killing at the same time. Just how do we do it?" She grinned, releasing that hand as she walked over to stand beside Alendral. "Master Sorchal, you must understand her Grace's predicament or you would not have been so forthright and vunerable while doing so." She whispered as Beathag turned to look away, "Do not look as though your fate as an Englishman ocndemns you and show no sympthy for England.. Do you not see? It is the monarchy she loathes, but not the people. Lest why would she suffer my company o'er much? Patience, do not lose yourself yet." -

Beathag: "I dun like games, ye know tha, and tae come under the pretense o' one, Claramae..." She clenched her hand, cracking her knuckles as she looked upward. After the adrenaline chewed at her veins, the pulse of anger rubbed her nerve endings painfully raw. The little woman was a confounded sore spot when she was right, almost as if she always glared! But she wasn't doing that, was she? On looking over her shoulder she contemplated one hundred things to claramae's two or three. The place where she pushed to lower the hand even ached, a reminder that eventful things lived in small houses. "N' ye..as much as loath tae say it, beh right. Make no mistake. Ah may beh angry, but I am nay a fool, Master Sorchal. Ah'll give ye tha' ye live. Sae there must be somewhat smart in ye with how ye worded n' said things lest Ah could 'ave killed ye already." She found a place in the chair at the table, beckoning for the pair of them to sit. "Somewot will be fetched for ye face, tae put on while we..talk further. Now the question is...Ilustionist. is this...offer somethin' ye truly want tae consider? Tae work for this court, for our causes? Iffn ye are, ye should settle first on the fact ye need have a great care with how ye talk about history here. Tis more than tha' tae me. It's torn us tae pieces, given us little sleep or peace. What will elate me tae know kills m'half brother sae ye will nay be speakin' o' this beyond the presence o' a few n' never before the Lord Marshall.' (d)

Alendral: Heeding the ladies advice. he took a manner of deep breath, following the lead dutifuly as he changed his topics, ringing of wounded pride but level despite himself. "Please don't misunderstand my own loyalities, Lady Duchess. I bear no errant love for the Monarchy behind the country. My mistake was in equating loyalty to country with its leaders. I learned my lesson,." At her request he'd slip to the chair she was offered, uneasily drawing himself to sit before it, his expression changing to an inscrutable mask. He seemed to consider her offer, though telling her taht he didn't feel like he had much choice seemed to be exactly the wrong thing to say, and he chose his words very carefully. "...Lady Duchess... I understand your sacrafices well enough to know that I can not fathom the true depths of them... but I have sacraficed a good deal as well, and last everything. My short time here has been...eye opening... It has forced me to reconsider... forget it. Matters not important to you. " he dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Safe enough to say I have debts to collect on the Lord Maubery, and should I crush everything he wishes for in the process so much the better." he replied bluntly, though to the last point he soured imperceptively. "... I am a spy, Lady Duchess. I am well aware of the value of silence."

Beathag: "Nay, wot has it forced ye tae reconsider? You're a spy, nay without thoughts or a heart. If ye will be here, while ye may be like a piece o' stone, bare in mind tha' those here are close. N' the value o' your silence is more than tha' for silence's sake. M'brother the Lord Marshall has precious little restraint," Considering how he had taxed every last inch of hers and still came out only partially scathed, what would Eamonn, the Lord Marshall of the Court, do to him? "Sae. Let us come tae know the lot o' it, tell me a tale, Illustionist." She put a finger to her temple, elbow propped against the table.

Claramae: "Might we have some wine as well when you go to fetch remedy for his ailment? Ah, thank you." The pressing advantage of this (minus Alendral's face, that is) was that with the wind blown out of her, the Duchess would have more of a mind to heed instead of outwardly object, to think now that her thoughts were clear. (d)

Alendral: "To reconsider what a leader may do for their country, and what should be done to earn the sort of loyalty I was offered." to her next turn of phrase, he rolled his eyes, yes, actually had the audacity to roll his eyes, the bitterness evident at the implication. "'Heartless Spies' are a myth, Lady Duchess, and you'd do well to remember that. That we must harden our hearts to more effectively serve our country should be respected, not treated so lightly." he shook his head and folded his hands, fixing her with hard stare. "Fine. You wished to hear it. So you'll hear it. My lady, I have nothing to my name. The Sorschal name holds no weight in England's court, no legacy that I can draw to ensure a comfortable life coasting on the laurels of nobility. I was recognized for my talents, and for my ability to smile in the face of all of it.. I was given... a home. a purpose. A way to serve. I was greatful for it." he turned aside, waiting for the wine offered which he gratefully took before taking a stiff drink and setting it down. "Have you ever considered what a Spy sacrafices for their country, My Lady Duchess? A spy can count none as his friend, or lover, or any manners of close. We construct lies upon lies until the truth behind them is lost. To my name I can claim few that can ever have claimed to know me and fewer still to claim themselves in my confidence. We are not trusted--not by those we serve, or the very men we fight beside to secure us. I have brought down Rogue Kings, Clergy who thought their place was to lord over the people in God's name... and I gave... everything... to them. I thought I served country. I was young. Foolish. What I had learned, that day, M'lady, is that I served lords and ladies who saw nothing more to carve their own empires under divine rule. Those 'people' you mentioned suffered under those rules, because they cared not for them. That's why I am Illusionist, and not spy longer. Were it not a favor to a friend, I would have never come here. Now tell me, Lady Duchess... tell me that in offering my services, I'm not making the same mistake, because I need to hear it, Lady Duchess. Am I merely securing the Empire of the Aberdeen family? or am I securing the future of its people?" He fixed her with level stare there, silent.

Claramae: Oh this was turning out far better than the last few moments portrayed! Claramae drank at her wine with delicate sips where Alendral took his back like the hardest brigand at the local stew, steeling up his nerves to find the whore of his choice. Lowered eyes construc no care for words stated though she heard what he said and would have given pause in action were she not so skilled at her own game. Where does it end she thought to herself how far will such as ourselves go on the path no one will tread. She could have retired long ago, in any country of her choosing, under any title, yet when she was called upon she answered. Loyalty made her do this. How far would that devotion take her when the King she paid homage to was no longer on his throne, merely the General again who trained her? Why was that loyalty so intense she did not reside in a placesuch as Turas Lan, that had no pompous Stewards, massacres in the streets, or a nine bell curfew in the evening? What was it about Avaria, the General, and the man who had fetched her, now her lover, that held her fast? Michael was as coated in blood as she, but he had more of a heart to open. The difference between solider and spy Were it not for him who would have cared if she vanished to nothing? Ah, there wasn't time to get so entwined in that..--

Beathag: "Sae ye were taken in young by a belief, a fantasy, n' thought tae serve all at the sacrifice o' yourself. How young is young, Master Sorchal, ah must beh at least a decade your senior, if nay a little more..Sae for ye tis still all somewhat recent, I take it. " In the middle ages, the middle age of a person was anything beyond the mid twenties, for few lived beyond thirty and one. A man Maubrey's age was akin to a hearty piece of living history at fifty-and-two, when the olden folk living beyond were either blessed or witches. "Ye shall have tae invest yeself as it seems m'entire reign n' this island n' territory shall have tae invest in ye. Come, bring your wine. Showin' is better than tellin'. Learnin' as ye see is better than stories tae bore ye tae tears." She took no ale for herself, nor wine. No, in fact she'd grow sick on in after all of this but showed no signs of it. Pulling herself upright, Kendrew went to open the door and become the party's shadow (d)

-- End Part II --

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[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Alendral: "Recent enough. but you tend to lose perspective when working our line of work. It feels like eternity." he replied grimly enough and shrugged his shoulders, knowing full well the age difference--he was practically a child when he met her mother, though he decided not to volunteer that just yet. taking the glass and stepping to the woman's side, he fixed a heavy expression to her . Details were irrelevant, so he spared her a good many of them. A passing glance was sent to Kendrew--wasn't that the man he had taunted during the Masquerade game? Wonder how he felt now. He turned his gaze studiously and followed after the pair of them.

Beathag: Details were things he'd volunteer later. Candor with candor. Earnest for the sake of being earnest. If Beathag had wanted him dead she would have done it by now but that did not mean Kendrew wasn't motivated to complete the deed himself. That was the man he had teased at the Masquerade, who laughed, who held a woman in his arms now as firm in his duties as ever. He was a man who didn't venture to say much nor spoke out of turn. One would have forgotten him entirely were it not for the fact once noticed, it was hard to dismiss a man who was 6'5. "Perspective is lost n' refound e'en as each our passes. The trick is the focus to have said perspective kept in place." If he had seen her mother it was best not said now, not when she had calmed enough to open her own to show a bit of wit around the wry temper. Footfall after footfall led them away from the reception room into the castle halls (d)

Alendral: "You find the trick behind it, do let me know." He smirked despite himself with a bit of dry humor, taking another mouthful of wine as she led him through the castle wall,s wondering just what the point of it was.. and after a bit of awkward silence, he decided to swap to another topic of conversation. "...You're not terribly fond of spies are you? I mean, far be it from me to suggest that you should otherwise be quite kind to a man who claims to infilitrate your kingdom, but you specifically mentioned the words... Heartless, I believe it was. You mind entertaining my curiousity? " he passed the older woman a passive glance, more academically curious about the subject than anything.

Beathag: "Aye, the trick is tae fix yeself hard on the goal, wot ye'd call your end game, or somwot Claramae once said in Orkney." She would have been on Kendrew's arm but he didn't offer it, somehow he didn't think she needed the pretense What she needed was to figure this entire thing out once and for all, to sleep more than four nights at atime in peace only to have the fifth night plagued with horrors. The younger man was given her full attention, "Ah said tha' ye were nay heartless, Master Sorchal, though spies aren't the only ones who create tha' illusion. People are people, e'en the enemy has heart for somethin. Tis wot humans are. Ah' be nay made o' quarried marble nor beh like the Stonehenge, always straight n' high. Ye do nay always wear an impenatrable face. Ye really were afraid ye'd die taeday. E'en angry Ah can see past m'own nose. Just like e'en with a purpose ye think beyond the obvious. But nay all people are like tha', all the same. N' this world o' shade n' shadow is far more than wot it was tae be a clan wife once, or e'en just to be. Ah understand a great much more only bah the hems o' me skirts n' breeches, by bein' a merchant n' havin a sense o' business. Tis how Ah put everythin intae a way I can understand, sae bein' confused n' nay seein the forthright nature tae which I give frustrates meh. Moreso when Ah have a son tae raise with a sense o'bein' humble for his good fortune n' bein' upstandin when the world is little less than. E'en heathens have morals," she cracked a small smile with a bit of a laugh, faulty, but sincere, "Ye n' the Lady dae wot Ah could nay e'en fathom. Makes m'head ache." (d)

AIendral: "Perhaps because the sensation is becoming entirely too familiar for my particular tastes." He remarked in grim fashion, folding his arms over his chest, dropping his tone low so that Claramae didn't pick up much on the little secret, a hint of mirth entering his voice. "Truth be told, Lady Duchess. I'm rather wanting in the faith business myself, but don't tell Lady St. Laurence please? You've no idea how many times I've had the lecture about impure thoughts that I had to atone for. " he let chesire grin touch his expression and raised his voice a bit again. "In any event, the political machinations of Monarchy are not terribly different from Spy work. It's mostly pretending that you know what you're doing even when you don't and, failing that, acting ike they're the fool for doing it as you do." he waved his hand and dismissed it. "But to be honest, I'm a rank Amatuer compared to the Lady St. Laurence,if it's any consolation. I could barely maneuver in the circles she does, despite it all."

Beathag: "Ah concur. Bein' earmarked for death, bein near dead or seemin' dead has become rightly old. Much rather prefer breathin dun ye agree?" The secret barb at Clarmae must have taken great presence, as the woman had ears that seemed to hear the prayers of mice. Letting the corners of her mouth rise, a bit of humor found way towards her speech, "Well, ye must beh closer tae the Christ-child than I be. Mass is the providence o' m'husband fer the sake o' his mother. He was rather religious as a boy. Ah be religious but accordin' tae most m'faith should have me cast intae some lake o' fire. Faith in tha' woman..tha' must beh one interestin' lecture." She looked behind her as Claramae kept a reasonable pace back, favoring the nearness of Sir Kendrew instead, "Especially given wot she does fer a profession. How does a priest reckon with tha? The circles tha' woman moves in would baffle the 'ell out o' me sae tis nay e'en worth tryin' tae ken. Pretendin, tha' is a little o' how we get by, yes, n' just gaein' off o' common sense instead o' the larger term n' all the rules.." Hmm. Maybe even after bruising his cheek his new sovereign had a few redeemable qualities. They turned left, a right, and came to the outskirts of a chamber. Pushing it open, she revealed it to be a child's room. Murals of an enchanted forest covered the walls, unicorns, griffons, dragons in speech with knights and ladies. One bed was there now, but there were still signs..a doll among wooden swords. A soft set of flowers on the wall where perhaps another had been, now gone as no bed was under it now. "This is the room of m'children." (d)

Alendral: "All transgressions be forgiven and all such. It's surprisingly easy to reconcile. Besides, if you really want to analyze it, she mostly kills Heathens anyway, so it's god work 'n all that. She's actually sort of rare admist the greater whole of Spies. Most of us aren't the very religious sorts. Seen entirely too many cardinals doing all manners of unseemly in their spare time, sort of diminishes the effect. Don't ask me how you can keep the faith in matters like this. I have no idea and asking only encourages her." Poor Claramae was just getting ragged on it would seem, but at least she'd understand his intent--finding a common ground to stand on with the Duchess, as it were- and besides, this had come up between them before and she had long since given up trying to convince him--if she had ever tried at all. As they came to the children's room he grew silent, his eyes flicking over the place, an innocent confusion written on his face as he followed the Duchess side.

Beathag: "But then how dae ye explain the loyalty tae Apollo, the General o' Avaria? Man's nearly an aetheist," she replied, ah, but somewhere Claramae did see the logic. Under the light of the sun the places that were empty seemed apparent to the visitor as she went on listen to her tale, "Tha' is a fascinatin' turn o' events. Aye, this is m'children's room, though, n' I wanted ye tae see it. Tis one o' a few places but this is m'reason..they are my reason for livin." (d)

-- Part III TBC --