The rain outside of the smithy came down in sheets, smacking against the sewn hides that protected the normally exposed side of the shop mercilessly. The commissioned blacksmith had shut his shop for the day, although soldiers and officers were always permitted to drop off worn or damaged gear and pick up trades. Under normal circumstances, people who were not part of the armed forces in any way could also pick up a piece of armor or weaponry, but this day, Steven didn't even expect to have to tell any sanguine travelers or new mercenaries he wouldn't sell that day. The market beyond the hides was absolutely empty; the streets as still as waiting graves.
The Raibeart household, like most others, was hunkered down, most of the daily chores- aside from the sheltering of various types of livestock- going undone. Much earlier that day, when Sarai had come inside soaked to the bone and sniffing, Susanna had simply told her first daughter to put the water bucket outside and wait. The bucket had filled to overflowing in a mere hour, and the subsequent bathing, cooking, and cleaning had all been done with rain water. The only thing Stephen would not permit anyone to do with it was drink it, unless it was being boiled for tea. This was fortunate, since visitors to the home were almost always served tea.
Although the peasantry of Suzail had taken cover, the law makers and enforcers had not. The pace at the court had even quickened, prompting Mi'ishaen's retrial to be called up that day. Against Battlemage Ranclyffe's better judgement, Druce brought Silveredge and Niku to the peasant's gallery, where they had remained until the retired battlemage could no longer stand the thought of the two women standing uncovered in the pitiless downpour. Knowing that the commissioned blacksmith was closer to the court than his house could be, Terezio commissioned a messenger to find them there once the cases had been fully tried, then convinced the women to leave with him, dog in tow.
Just a half hour later, Susanna watched Sarai and Salone carefully hand the hand painted cups to each visitor. The family room was warm, and very cozy, with Battlemage Ranclyffe, Druce, and Aleksei sitting on one side of the hearth, Stephen, Iordyn, and herself sitting on the other, and Silveredge sitting cross legged on the opposite side of the room from the fire with Niku. Valeria sat calmly at Iordyn's feet, but picked up her head to inspect Niku's every twitch. Everyone but Aleksei and Silveredge had accepted tea- Aleksei had opted for mead instead, and Silveredge had very politely declined everything but water.
"The bread should be out in ten more minutes," Sarai announced seriously, turning around in the center of the room so that she could look into everyone's eyes briefly.
"But it'll be hot," Salone said very quietly. "You'll burn your hands cutting it, and everyone will burn their tongues eating it."
"Oh, I hadn't thought of that," Susanna cut in, before her first daughter had a chance to say anything else. "Make sure you have that bread sit quietly for five minutes; while you wait, you can help your sister slice the fruit and the cheese for everyone. Did Saul have any fortune getting that milk?"
"No," Salone replied gently, as though she felt as though she had to apologize for the lack. "He came back very upset, though. He's upstairs."
"Thank you; I'll talk to him when he's calmer," Susanna said sagely. "Now you ladies go and tend to the rest of the preparations. If the courier comes and Saul is still upset, fetch Sly."
"Yes, Lady Raibeart," Sarai answered as she curtsied. Salone simply nodded without saying anything, which was her custom, and Susanna watched both girls leave, knowing that Salone's silent agreement had just earned her a good pinch from her elder sister.
"Quite well behaved, dear," Druce smiled knowingly. "They remind me of what my daughters were to each other, once. Only in our case, it was the elder daughter- Master Ranclyffe, these days- who was the quiet one."
Susanna chuckled and nodded. "I must admit that I fail to understand your eldest daughter, Lady Ranclyffe."
"Don't be too upset about that," Terezio scoffed. "That girl could have taught the 'Introduction to Mental Sanctity' class at seven years old. Solid as the side of a mountain."
"Was she always so... reserved?" Susanna asked carefully. "Even before her studies? Sylvester all but lost his voice when he first went away to learn calligraphy. It took some doing to revive him, as it were."
"Her studies did not a thing to her one way or the other," Druce sighed. "There was always something different about her- heavier, more melancholic- Rezi and I did what we could with her, but she was always... as you put it... reserved."
"I'm told she was of some meager use in my place, with you, but... not much," the battlemage frowned, fussing with his glasses. "I never did get any sort of... response... to my request."
"I..." Susanna bit her lips and looked from Druce's carefully plain face to the clear stonewalling gaze of the battlemage. "Oh, Master and Lady Ranclyffe, forgive me. Her hands were like death, her tone like the prick of a envenomed needle, and her gaze like a basilisk's. But... a permissive basilisk. The type who could turn you to stone, and firmly purposes not to- and the goddess said nothing."
"As good a response as any," Terezio frowned, unable to contain his disapproval. "I see no reason to fault you; workers of divine arts are- severely limited- in case studies that hold no belief in divine powers."
"I don't know that the trouble is a lack of belief," Susanna said with a sad smile. "I think it might be a sort of... hopelessness."
Druce closed her eyes and firmed her hands into fists as they rested on her lap. "No more of that. She visited, brought her son- spoke to us, for the first time in so many years. I will hope enough for both of us, and I will see her this summer, if I must learn to fly to do so."
"I will go with you," Terezio finished strongly, as though annoyed that a completed conversation had been plucked open again. "Now, did you, Ser Voyonov, receive the messenger that was sent with the results of your trial for Hophni and Shesua? The boy claimed to have given you the written letter of it, but..."
"The last son of this house is reading this letter to me," Aleksei replied. "He knows letters well, and is also teaching me to see my name in them."
"Brave soul!" Druce enthused, opening her eyes to reveal the genuinely pleased twinkle in them. "I had very much hoped that some one should dare to do so. Have you learned to make the letters he showed you?"
"Not as yet," Aleksei admitted sheepishly. "But his wanting to have me do this is stubborn; it will not leave him in peace."
"Yes; it's showing me the streaks of his elder siblings in him," Susanna smiled. "Sylvester, his name is, Ser Voyonov. With every inch as much fierce persistence as they have with him, he is pressing one so much his senior that it should be blushed at- I'd thought to apologize once or twice!"
"This is not needing apology," the Dragonborn rumbled, accidentally startling Valeria into a bout of nervous tail wagging that thumped against the partially rug-covered wood floor. "I am thinking my spirit also has scales, and does not easily feel gentle brushes of learning."
"At any rate, you've been given the message," Terezio mused, almost to himself. "Now, your blade daughter is being retried a third time, due to the suspension of some evidence and her condition upon submitting herself to the authorities- I'm told she was in quite a state, if the young lady won't mind my saying so."
"Don't repeat what that girl said, Rezi," Druce urged. "Lady Raibeart isn't in condition to hear it, and it'd break Silveredge's heart- or at least put another serious crack in it."
"Another-?" Silveredge asked breathlessly, suddenly embarrassed for speaking when she hadn't been directly spoken to. Niku, in clear response, put most of his upper body into her lap by suddenly throwing himself backward at her, panting warm, meaty breath into her face. Across the room, Valeria's tail thumped even harder at the floor, and Iordyn raised an eyebrow at her.
"Well, it was a state," the battlemage repeated, at last sitting his glasses on top of his head and massaging the bridge of his nose with the first two fingers of his right hand. "If it's half as bad as was described, it'll likely be all Garimond can do to keep those at the Pillars from throwing every one of those cases out."
Susanna hummed as she smoothed her hands over her swelling belly. "Well, Dame Hophni's already been tried and convicted for conspiring to sell me to slavers, so she might have lost her right of claim. Further, Mi'ishaen can be tried for abetting slavery on two counts, and perhaps manipulation, but the treason case should have been thrown out long ago. A non-citizen can't commit treason; it doesn't make sense."
"The murders also are not making sense," Aleksei piped up. "It is much confusing me why people are mistaking Bahlzair for Mishka."
"It looks to Garimond and the rest as though the two are covering each other," Iordyn answered flatly, leaning over to scratch at Valeria's ears for a moment. "I myself heard her dodge that 'Who held the blade' question like an acrobat, not to mention the "Who owns who" one that preceded it, and Bahlzair's motive for killing all those guards and prisoners seems to be crystal clear."
Aleksei heaved a deep sigh, as though someone had disappointed him greatly. "It is not so. If the blood of the judges amuses him, he will kill them, too."
"Wait," Iordyn puzzled, his hand resting momentarily on Valeria's head. "If the judges amuse him, he'll kill them? That doesn't-"
"Not everything is good to understand," Aleksei inserted frankly.
Iordyn sat back slowly, and a very serious silence settled in the room so thickly that the sounds coming from the kitchen seemed to be alarmingly obtrusive. Valeria held her tail still, but panted as though she'd recently run across an open field. Across the room, Niku turned a semi-interested gaze upon her.
Appropriately, given the tenor of the room, Salone walked very quietly into the center of it with the tray of cooled bread, slices of cheese, freshly minced and spiced apples, and an entire clay pitcher of cool rain water.
"I've made Sarai upset," she confessed directly to Susanna immediately. "I ruined the apple slices, and she had to cut them all the way up."
"It looks fine, Lona," Susanna smiled gently. "Please send Sarai with the utensils and napkins- 'Yes, Lady Raibeart,' hmm?"
Salone, not catching the hint at all, nodded silently, put the tray down on the low table at the center of the room, and left. Stephen, who had been largely silent, finally gave a very low hum- it was impossible to tell whether he were merely curious, or actually displeased.
"Is é an strainséirí," Susanna explained. "A dhéanamh le daoine di neirbhíseach."
"Still needs a sit-down," Stephen muttered. "She knows better."
"A student of the ancient crafts are you, Lady Raibeart?" Terezio said, calmly changing the subject as Sarai entered with the forks, knives, and napkins on a smaller platter. She curtsied politely, then left the room.
"How many other Elven dialects were you expected to learn?"
"Only one," Susanna admitted shyly. "The sisterhood wasn't nearly as demanding as is the College- I don't even remember the proper name of which dialect that is."
"Oh, I don't know either, but it sounds to me like one of the Sylvan variants," the retired battlemage supplied easily. At the center of the room, all the food and water remained exactly where it was rested.
"Evokes a sense of the great woods themselves, rasping and scraping the palette. I prefer Eladrin myself- open, rolling vowels- you never say the end of a word, practically. Everything is lofty and broad. Of course, just about every mage around here knows it; some prefer it to Common. It used to vex Lady Ranclyffe to have me muttering things she didn't understand, so I got my first start at teaching by having her learn it."
"I don't know if I can say I vexed Stephen- can I?" Susanna sheepishly looked over at Stephen, who allowed a fleeting smirk to cross his face. "But I can't say I taught him, either. I will say that the stubborn streak in the Raibeart family is amazingly hereditary. Now, please, feel free to take what you will. Who knows how long this storm will last?"
But everything, and everyone, remained exactly where they were, as though the force of gravity were too daunting a challenge for all of them.
"It washed out a training session," Iordyn piped up suddenly. "Some Dragons and I had just nocked our arrows, and out of the clear morning sky comes rain. It at first had stones in it, about as big as a baby's thumb. Pelted us all but good."
"I shudder to think what it must be doing to people's land," Druce frowned. "If the fields aren't stripped bare by the weight of it coming down, they'll certainly be flooded by the sheer volume. We'll feel this again, come harvest-time."
"Lathander spare us," Iordyn breathed. "Perhaps there'll be some time for salvaging."
The gathering fell silent again, and in that silence, Stephen got up and personally offered the tray of food around. Silveredge, possibly out of force of habit, immediately began pouring water into every cup-like thing within her arm's reach. Noting this, Stephen waited until she'd reissued cups, made sure everyone had napkins, and sat herself back behind the large puppy.
"You too," he said simply, and stood still as a stone until Silveredge managed to select a single slice of bread. "You can do better than that."
At the prompting, Silveredge took two more pieces of bread and two slices of cheese. Aleksei beamed warmly as the blacksmith sat himself down, and the two shared a nod before the man of the house himself cleaned most of the rest of the plate.
"Thank you for your hospitality, of course," Druce remarked, tearing the bread she'd taken into bits so that she could easily pop them into her mouth with the cheese. "You could very well have sent us home."
"Of course not!" Susanna smiled. "Battlemage Ranclyffe was right in noting that the shop is closer to court than your home, and no one ought to be outside in this weather; it's terrifying. I fear for whatever messenger will brave it to bring us news."
Beyond her, Steven grunted his agreement, mouth full.
"Frankly, I wonder now if any messenger will brave it," Terezio added gruffly, toying with his spiced apple pieces. "I don't think there's a purse in Suzail heavy enough to buy being soaked to the skin and pelted sore by either hail, tree nuts, or actual stones."
The pause that followed stretched into another silence, though it was more comfortable than the others. Salone returned to sit the pot of freshly boiled tea next to the nearly empty water pitcher, entering and exiting the room with a nearly-forgotten curtsey that might have been cued from her elder sister as she hid in the kitchen. Only a few minutes after that, the hazel-eyed scribe child stopped at the archway that separated the front room of the house from the wider, warmer family room in which everyone sat.
Valeria's tail began thumping again.
"There's a messenger for you, Battlemage Ranclyffe," Sylvester noted in a muted tone. "Says he's down from the Pillars and doesn't want to come inside."
" 'Doesn't want-?' " Druce piped up at once, looking up from her napkin. "Is he standing out there in the wet?"
"Yes, but he's got a Dragon shield up over his head, to keep the stones off," the young boy replied.
"Thank you- Sylvester, right?" Battlemage Ranclyffe put down his food and stood. "Good. Excuse me; I'll return- Ser Stephen, you will come along, won't you?"
The battlemage, grayed and wizened, was dwarfed at once by the natural bigness of the blacksmith. The two together seemed like an artist's idea of how age left its revenge in Human bodies as they moved past the slender boy whose papyrus skin seemed to fade even further into whiteness as they passed by him.
"Sly, how's by Saul, hmm?" Susanna prompted, a warm tone clinging to her voice. "Is he still as upset?"
"No, he's- I was closer to the door when the messenger came by, and I heard the stones on the metal of the shield. I didn't want to go all the way down to the smithy, so... so I just opened the door. My lady." With some relatively well buried nervous energy, the boy purposefully turned his attentions to the guests. "Ladies, and Ser Voyonov... I... hope you're all feeling welcomed. One of my sisters might bring you more cheese or apples... or anything."
It was clear that the presence of all assembled weighed on his volume and posture- Aleksei noted that his spine must have been capable of stretching another inch, if only he would stand straight. But a phantom embarrassment or fear curled it downward, toward the floorboards under which he seemed to want to hide. To his great credit, however, he seemed to be winning the fight against his shyer self.
"Thank you, Sylvester," Susanna nodded, her own emotions admirably under control. "If any messenger happens by with the bill for the firewood delivery, convince him inside while Sarai fetches my ledger and coin purse. Between the two of you, you'll have it well in hand- and there's no need to make it look like my writing, either. It only confuses your father when 'I' accept deliveries for which I wasn't really present."
"My lady," Sylvester repeated. It came out with more ease than the first formal address had, but with lower volume. Susanna smiled meaningfully at her departing child, whose spine had straightened just a bit, and across the room, Druce sat more comfortably.
"Such manners," she remarked in a congratulatory tone. "Really, it's quite a well-run household. Your mother should be very proud."
"Thank you," Susanna answered gratefully, with a momentarily chilly remembrance that she could hardly decipher what kind of mother Druce might have been to Master Ranclyffe. Iordyn leaned forward again and scrubbed the back of Valeria's neck until her tail stopped committing flagrant violence against the defenseless floor.
Fortunately, Terezio and Stephen returned before the quiet that crept in from the corners of the room became another uncomfortable silence.
"Ser Iordyn, you're not going to believe this- completely warrants the poor boy braving a hailstorm with a shield. Bahlzair emerged from the prisons during Mi'ishaen's manipulation case, and threw himself at her like a greased wrestler. The guards all went for him, on Garimond's order, the court immediately dropped both Mi'ishaen's murder cases, and she's been put in your charge, in the same manner that Unessmus was under mine. Says here she will be escorted by armed guard so soon as weather and her condition permits."
"Sounds as though they've finally figured out the difference between your two loved ones, Ser Voyonov," Druce huffed. "That's one worry off your mind."
"Did they actually catch Bahlzair?" Iordyn asked, moving to scratch at Valeria's side with his fingertips. Niku raised his head, sniffing at the sudden change in the scents that only he was capable of detecting, and Silveredge laid her head on him, eyes closed.
"It doesn't say," Terezio frowned. "I suppose they weren't concerned with letting you know that. All the focus is placed- and rightly so, in my opinion- on the fact that you are the guarantor of Miss Lucien-Azaroth's good behavior to Suzail, and all of Cormyr. And they have codified that epithet of yours." The battlemage handed the embossed paper over to Susanna, who stopped and looked at it herself.
"Wait," the young mother said breathlessly, her eyes widening and flashing with excitement. "My word, Iordi, they've claimed you innocent!"
"What..?" Iordyn asked, stunned into simplicity.
"Yes! Look, look at it!" Susanna said excitedly, handing the paper over and girlishly putting pleased hands to her mouth as she watched him read.
"It's something she said," Iordyn concluded in a trance-like tone. "Mi'ishaen must have said something that made Garimond think-"
"How could that be, if it took Bahlzair attacking the woman in the middle of the hearing to get the murder cases to shift?" Druce injected, her voice clean and sharp as a well-honed knife.
"It's this- listen to it," Iordyn replied, shaking his head. " 'By your hand, this clearly godless creature was compelled to act contrary to self-preservation, which is clearly uppermost in her mind; her recent compliance seems contrary indeed even unto every fiber in her being-' He believes that I have been guided to-?"
"A late enough convert to a belief rather popularly held," Terezio scoffed. " 'Ser Iordyn Raibeart, the Virtuous.' "
And Druce shushed her husband, only half playfully.
"Your own testimony could have changed his mind," Susanna said seriously, having rested her hands atop her belly again. "Remember when you shot and wounded whoever was haunting the rooftops, not because you knew you would make your shot, but because Lathander told you to shoot?"
"He reguarded me as though I were insane, Suze," Iordyn reminded his sister in law bitterly. "But Mi'ishaen- he wouldn't have put her in my care if-" Iordyn broke off, again slowly moving his head from side to side. Stephen moved around his wife to take the letter out of his brother's hands.
"Something she herself said made him believe. The clearing of my name may have happened anyway, since the true organizer of the Semmite kidnappings was discovered, but her testimony must be why he's handed her over to me; nothing else could have done this."
"In that case, perhaps the testimony was that she turned herself into the guards not once, but twice," Susanna reasoned. "Doesn't that sound like something 'contrary indeed to every fiber in her being' ?"
"Ask those who are most familiar with the creature, I say," Terezio interrupted, ignoring his wife's better judgment momentarily. "Ser Voyonov, Miss Silveredge, counsel us. Bahlzair is likely settling the score made when you all first arrived; but Mi'ishaen's actions?"
"She is much more likely to try to get out of captivity than to enter it," Silveredge answered, when she realized that Aleksei had remained silent for a reason. "Your handmaiden cannot claim any familiarity with what the first beloved is doing right now."
"I am satisfied that the right person is being blamed for Hophni and Shesua, at least," Stephen grumbled at last. "They can rest in as much peace as the gods allow them. Whatever led to that, I'm grateful for it. When they catch the- when they get him, I'll make the headsman's axe myself. Already commissioned to do Illance's."
"He'll pay his way out of that, or I'm no woman," Druce crabbed. "He and others in his family have done it before for graver threats, I'm sorry to report."
"I maybe should not complain to the gods about what I am never seeing before in my life," Aleksei chuckled, finishing the mead he'd been nursing and setting the cup near Silveredge. Niku sniffed at it, as could be expected. "Over and over they are making me to see things that I am talking about in this way, as though it is giving them great pleasure to do so."
"I hope you'll think of staying here, Battlemage and Lady Ranclyffe, in wait for Mi'ishaen? I'm certain Aleksei and Miss Silveredge have both suffered much, what with the separation and accusations, and the trials- all in a land that couldn't so much as properly write your names on the books," Susanna said. "I expect they have them now?"
"Your handmaiden was asked to read and verify all of our names when she was brought to the judges," Silveredge noted. "Every one they showed me has been used for its right purpose, even the ones they did not want or like. I am not certain what they did with them all."
Iordyn looked over at Silveredge with a look that would have been frustration, if he could have managed to retain any sort of negative feeling toward her. "Silveredge, you were supposed to verify which name was your legal name. And the ones for Aleksei and Mi'ishaen too, since neither of them...eh..."
"Since neither of us can read?" Aleksei finished smoothly. "I do not think Mishka is having very much shame at that fact, and I know I do not have any at all."
"My lords did not ask me about legal names," Silveredge replied. "If they had, I would have asked them what a name might do to make itself illegal. It was instead asked of me which names were correctly used to call me, and I have answered to every name that they presented me, so I told them 'All of them.' I did the same for Aleksei, and for Mi'ishaen. Why should I have told them something other than the truth?"
"It occurs to me, at times, that she is more dangerous than her paramour," Terezio sighed under his breath as he re-perched his glasses atop his head.
"Only at times?" Druce asked, feigning surprise. "Yes dear-heart, we'll stay. And I'll make myself useful in the kitchen. I wonder do your girls know how to wrap these sorts of chopped fruits in cooked meat? It gives a lovely flavor."
"I can't say I know that, Lady Ranclyffe," Susanna answered brightly. "I was raised very simply, so that it was easy for me to go into ministry. I'll have Salone prepare the shrine room as a guest room; would that do?"
Druce bit her lip in thought for a moment before she responded. "Oh, put Silveredge in there. It may do your meditation good, don't you think, to be right near a shrine?"
"Any corner is fine," Silveredge smiled gratefully. "As the first beloved is not nearby, I might remain with Ser Voyonov."
"Like both of you should have done in the first place," Druce finished decisively as she stood up. "Well, there's that. Look, Lady Raibeart, just point me in the direction of your pantry, I'll have something thicker than bread and cheese for us. I'll put your elder girl to work with me and leave you with your younger to prepare the rooms- Silveredge, have you better knowledge of the pots and pans, or of the hearth and the bedroom?"
"Your handmaiden was once highly trained in many arts of the home," Silveredge replied without pause. Iordyn, for his part, made an uncomfortable face and shifted. Valeria, picking up his discomfort, began punishing the floor with her tail again. "She is not certain whether or not there are many that she does not know, or at least have an idea of. Wherever there is most need, let her be there."
"Right; go off with Lady Raibeart, then, and when she doesn't need you any more, then come back down to us in the kitchen. Sirs, your pardon. There's no use of us talking the air grey in wait of the end of this storm- give the lady a hand-"
Silveredge kissed Niku's head first, then arose to help Druce get Susanna to her feet. The three of them left the room without a backward glance, and the large puppy shifted himself so that he was near Aleksei's feet. Amused, the Dragonborn slid himself off the chair and maneuvered with the dog so that he, crosslegged, had him sitting in the bowl of space his thick, two toned thighs made.
"We've more mead, Voyonov, if the good battlemage is of a mind to learn your master's game," Stephen sighed, releasing his barrel chest from the lock hold his arms had been pressing upon it ever since he'd finished his food and drink. "First thing I'd like to hear is the harrowing tale that made 'wives' of that one and she what's on her way."
"I don't know about any game," Terezio frowned. "But if we're going to hear tales, I want how you got mixed up with that Drow. No poking, prodding, or producing seed- just the man-to-man truth."
Aleksei looked up from Niku's contented panting to smirk at the retired battlemage. "You are thinking, at last, that I am well?"
"Master Ranclyffe, as I noted before, has always been solid as a rock," the elderly mage puffed. "I may never know what she intended by sending you to me, but I know what I got. I also know that I owe one Rafael Unessmus a rather overdue apology."
"So does Garimond," Iordyn piped up, listening to footsteps begin to hustle around upstairs. "I'll get the mead."
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