Second Week, Threeday.
With a heavy heart Paris arrived at class shortly after dawn of ThreeDay. She had certainly felt the hole last evening's lack of camaraderie had made in her current life. Exchanging only formalities with Ewen, his eyes never meeting hers, hurt more than she had thought was possible. Was it possible that she was really in love with him? No! The answer came back firmly. She was simply lonely -- and one by one everyone she'd even started to hold dear was being stripped from her. Jouet ... and, if what she'd deduced about the Orders was true, Rhori and she would never work long together -- their spheres of responsibility were separate, ... now Ewen and the others whom she had started to dare consider peers, ... maybe even Lorraine. To make matters worse, what she'd heard when she'd gotten home last night -- about the beans -- just iced the top of that horrible-without-meaning day. Fate was conspiring, it would seem, to make everything she touched set her further and further apart from everyone else. If Ewen's grape should emulate the beans ...? And of course, Paris sighed, it would. It would. One grape would not restore a livelihood, but one magic grape, it appeared, could. *sigh* If the others despaired because she could heal, what would they feel when they realized that she had also helped bring the kingdom a cornucopia? Why, oh, why could these 'gifts' -- as Lady duGryphon called them -- do so much good for many -- and yet cause her to hurt so much? The stern voice inside spoke. You can bear it; the good of the many is worthwhile. Paris squared her shoulders and held her head high. She would remember that. She would not weep. Her job was to guard Man, not please herself.
Nonetheless, the few hails of 'Paris' as she entered the training grounds conspicuously lacked the deeper voices of those she still thought of as friends. And it hurt. Patience, patience, let Lady duGryphon prove to be right. Dear God, please let her be right! Quietly Paris started the warm-up stretches. Usually the two mile walk was enough to limber her up, but, this morning the exercises would keep her occupied.
Somehow, Paris was not surprised when Sir Gryphon announced that the class would practice group exercises -- teamwork -- today. Paris clung to her faith in the lady as the morning moved passed and on into the classroom.
Lord Gryphon formed the students up into two teams facing each other, and sent the two lines into each other. Paris noticed Rodric move into the line alongside her left, and she almost held her breath as the two lines moved together. Jules was facing Rodric, and as the lines neared he darted ahead to surprise Rodric. Paris moved her shield slightly to foul Jules' blow, safe as her opposite number, a younger boy, William she thought, was too far away to interfere. Rodric struck in return and Jules went down. Paris' opponent swung at her, a blow she easily blocked and Rodric, freed of opposition, hit her opponent. "I knew I wanted to be in the line next to you," he grinned, and turned to help the boy to his left. With the center of the line broken, the opposing side quickly fell.
They backed up, and Lord Gryphon spoke quietly with the other team. It gave her a moment to look over her team. Except for Rodric, who had moved into the line next to her when Lord Gryphon began dividing the teams, she thought that the youngest boys were all on her side. The two lines met again, this time with Jules staying in line. The fight took longer; Paris took out one of the opposing boys to her right at the same time that Ewen took out one of her side on the other flank. The two lines started a slow wheel, favoring the shield side. When the whistle blew, Paris and Rodric were facing only Jules and Ewen, and all were out of breath.
Lord Gryphon again spoke to the other team, and distributed a small number of practice spears. Paris' line approached a greatly shortened line on the other side, just their three best in the front with spearmen behind. Ewen was facing Paris, and launched an attack, at the last moment switching from her to her shield, dragging it down. She swung, connecting with him at the same time that two spears hit her squarely in the chest, bowling her backwards. Rodric held his own against Jules and one spearman for a moment, then a second spearman joined and he went down. The others on her side looked at the two of them with open-mouthed amazement rather than flanking the shorter opposition line, and thus were dispatched quickly.
There was excited discussion from the other side over their rapid victory. As she picked herself up, she could see Ewen also getting himself up from the dirt, a half of his remembered smile on his face and --thank god -- a glimmer of light in his eye. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather I just step on your feet?" he asked.
Paris smiled, feeling like the sun had finally come up. "Great teamwork!" Her hand went to her chest where she could still feel the effect of the coordinated buffet. "I felt it!"
Lord Gryphon issued more spears, and rotated the teams so that the younger boys were on the lines, with the seniors wielding the spears, and the day's instruction in the tactics of group fighting continued as the sun climbed to its zenith.
The class was disturbed shortly thereafter by the arrival of a messenger for Ewen! He listened to the whispered information, turned a somewhat startled glance on Paris and then turned to Sir Gryphon to explain that he was suddenly required to leave to attend to a matter in his family's vineyards. Inwardly Paris writhed. It had happened. The Empress had proved true. How would Ewen ever explain this without bringing up Paris' name? Or would he no longer care whether or not his father knew? Assuming he had cared. Carefully Paris schooled her face and tried to force her attention back to her book. Which made it more startling when Ewen's voice said, "I think -- Paris should come see."
She looked up and met Ewen's eyes but could not read anything in his face. As she turned to Sir Gryphon, a second messenger entered the room. Motioning Ewen to wait, the knight read the paper that this messenger had brought. Slowly he announced, "The Prince has ordered the assemblage of a certain list of people. Paris' name is on that list. I am afraid that she cannot leave the palace now, Ewen." Slowly the colour drained from Paris' face. What now? Whatever now had gone wrong?
The throne room seemed filled and -- again -- highly decorated when Paris approached the entrance, flanked by Lord and Lady duGryphon. Paris was still a little pale and it was taking more effort than she had thought to keep herself straight and steady -- although she drew comfort from the presence of her teachers. Still, whatever it was must be serious if they needs must come.
Paris scarcely noticed that the herald had called her "Lady". But a little corner of her mind found a moment of amusement in seeing the last gesture betokening the Prince's adjustments of his garb. She had almost forgotten that he was only a couple of years out from under Lady duGryphon's gimlet eye. Somehow her heart warmed to this evidence that the lady still commanded His respect. He was her Prince; whatever she had done, he would treat with justice. She would have faith in him. [Sheryl did, however, find it disconcerting that the Party assumed the Prince wanted to look nice for _Paris_! Hard to imagine under _any_ circumstances.]
Her colour came and went as the Prince and the duGryphons spoke. Was it possible --? That the duGryphons had thought as well that she had been called forth for discipline? It would seem that if so, they had intended to defend her. Or -- no, she had obviously read this all wrong. With relief, confusion, and the horrid realization that, yet again, she was to be set apart from her current classmates, Paris obeyed the order to join her companions of Jouet. Her mind was in nowise prepared for Rhori's whispered question, "You got married?" Only extreme discipline kept her from answering out loud and disobeying her Prince's command for silence.
Event followed event in the pageantry of court. Inexorably. Paris rejoiced in her friends' good fortune -- but every word the Prince spoke in her direction did just what she knew fortune would do to her: separation and more separation. His final command -- that Rhori and she find Justice and Strength in order to learn more of their Orders -- tore at one of the final hopes she had held to. Obviously Prince William had found nothing in the mountain of Pelier. The Orders were still but four people. Baron Ruby -- gone, heaven knew for how long -- to the elves and away. Paris hoped that Rhori had been wrong; that the baron did not have to mend a broken heart in addition to mending communications with a race of beings who had not realized that mankind in Torat scarcely believed that they could exist. Rhori -- Rhori, to whom she had hoped to talk and with whom an exchange of ideas could happen only slowly, painfully. She had kept hoping, she realized, that some miracle would restore whatever senses his childhood had taken from him -- but, that was a fairytale too, wasn't it? Rhori was always going to be -- Rhori, and maybe that was what he liked being now. Who was she to think better? Just as only wishes made her think that she would be able to have her Prince as a teacher and confidant. The hedge of His birth walled Him as completely as Rhori's mind walled the giant. There really was no choice but to go out and find out how to make more Guardians.
[In actuality, Baron Ruby left early on FourthDay; on ThirdDay he was sound asleep, having kept watch over the princess from the moment the Party delivered her into his custody.]
Then it was over, and Calais needed his favour. It was with both pride and shrinking that she watched the duGryphons escort him back into the throne room. She had not explained the one caveat she had tried to insert. How was she -- to whom would she be able to explain -- Calais' tendency -- to pocket things -- and still enable him to have a fair trial in the Duke's service? Lady duGryphon? Yes, she would try to talk to the lady later. Later.
Paris glanced around. Her other friends from Jouet were huddled some distance away. Brillig glanced in her direction once, but -- they didn't really seem to have any need of her. Her duty now was to go back and endure her class. So the Prince had made sure. Her heart leapt just a bit at the thought of the Prince and her studies. He had said this time on her travels she could take books. Perhaps she could study well enough on her own that this -- situation -- would be over sooner. She would study harder. Paris returned to class without waiting for the duGryphons.
A couple of the other students looked up when she returned to the classroom. Rodric even smiled at her. But it was clear that Ewen was still absent. She realized with a start that the people in this room would know nothing of what had just occurred, and that nothing was different than when she left. For a little while, at least, she sighed. She sat back down, but found it hard to concentrate on her books, as she kept glancing at the empty spot where Ewen had sat.
Riding practice was a relay race, as two teams of riders had to pass a slippery bag of lead pellets to the next rider in sequence. It required careful coordination, and for some reason the missed passes were hilarious. Lord Gryphon had carefully picked the teams, and each heat was very close. By the end, it was a happy group of boys, and girl, that headed off to prepare for dinner. Paris looked around as she left, and confirmed that Ewen had not rejoined the group yet. The smile she had regained left her, as she followed the young girl off to her bath and Lorraine.
Paris looked bemused as she tried to figure out why she ever thought Lorraine would be any different. The sun rises, the sun sets, and Lorraine, she thought, bubbled. "Paris!" she said with an excited squeal. "Mom left our classes today, and I questioned the messenger enough to find out that the Prince sent for you for some sort of award. Now, tell me! What did he say? What happened? I know Mom seemed mostly pleased rather than mostly angry, but what happened?"
"What happened?" Paris smiled ruefully. "Well, I didn't faint. And, given that I thought I'd been summoned because I'd caused trouble somehow again, that was saying quite a lot." Paris grinned to let Lorraine know she was joking. "What happened was that, after the Prince had conducted business with the Arch-Priest -- and the throne room was all decorated on that account -- His Highness called my friends from Jouet and myself forward to praise a number of deeds we'd been accumulating. Like establishing contact with some western elves, chasing after the creature that struck down the duke and princess, helping provide the antidote for the poison used on the duke -- Calais did that. Also my friends had found a way to increase food production for the town right now and had helped to get the princess healed as well. It was mostly to reward my friends for all their hard work. And then Prince William commanded that Rhori and I go on another quest." Paris paused, looking into the distance. Softly she continued. "This time He has ordered that I take books with me to study, so there is no telling how long I will be gone." Then she smiled at Lorraine expecting to please her with the last bit of news. "And Prince William has ordered a Harvest Festival for next FirstDay. We are supposed to not leave 'til after that. It should be fun!"
Lorraine took up a stance, hands on hips and elbows out, a stern expression in her eyes but a big grin on her face. "Now, Young Lady, you stop trying to change the subject to silly girl things. What elves? You mean like little green men? What food, how can we have a harvest now? And, what did he give you! How was the Duke poisoned?" She crossed her arms, ostentatiously tapping one foot, still smiling. "Now, talk!"
"You -- you want to hear about our -- travels? But --" Paris stammered, shaking her head. "Chances are, you won't believe most of it. I wouldn't if I hadn't lived through it."
Lorraine giggled slightly. "I live in a white palace that appeared overnight." She smiled and looked at Paris seriously. "Besides, I'd believe you no matter what."
Paris breathed deeply. "You could always ask Anton to tell you. He's good at storytelling and manages to make us all look wise and competent. Except when one of us has been on his case. Then he leaves us out of the narrative." Paris smiled wryly, but, seeing the gleam in her friend's eye, decided to try. "OK. But it's a long story and I do not know how much you really want to hear. And I can't explain everything. Partly because I don't know everything that's going on yet, and partly because it's not my story. Is that alright?"
Lorraine picked up the dress, and moved to Paris. "That's fine. Just so long as you tell. You talk, I'll get you ready."
Paris took a deep breath. "Well -- when we travel, my brother, who is pretty good at being quiet and unseen, usually acts as scout. An hour or so after we passed the last of Sir Marion's outposts on the west road, we spotted a cloud of dust ahead. Most of us aren't fighters so we faded into the woods, while Calais watched to see what we were avoiding. It was a troop of orcs mounted on huge wolves. That sortof set the tone for most of our trip to Jouet: trying to hide and not be detected by orcs and their wolves....
Paris continued in not terribly great detail but describing the fight with spiders and Calais' poison (and that the reason he took the poison was for Paris to analyze it and come up with an antidote, but she never had time), meeting the elves and elven queen, fighting the orcs and being saved by the High Priestess whose cup Calais took away.
Here there no doubt had to be an explanation of the lands of Tarot and Torat. "It's another land -- another world, perhaps -- that seems to lie next to ours. It is called Tarot, like the cards, and ours is called Torat. I think of it as two hands, palms together. One is Torat, the other Tarot. They have been solid, as though covered with mittens, and so nothing has passed between them in a long, long, long time. But now the mittens are off and there are fissures where people -- creatures -- can slip from one into the other, like slipping between the cracks in the fingers. I believe that the orcs have slipped through from Tarot to here; and, when the High Priestess rescued us, we slipped from here to Tarot."
Lorraine had been following intently, and interrupted Paris. "Did this city slip through a crack too? Is this what a city in Tarot is like?"
Paris answered, "I have not yet seen a city in Tarot but, if you are asking my opinion, I think, yes, this was a city in Tarot."
The telling continues: The meeting with the empress and her offering gifts, including gifting Brillig with beans. Paris does not explicitly mention her cutting. Then meeting the baron. And then, at the palace, realizing with Rhori that the baron might be fake. The creature poisoning the Duke with spiders and stealing the princess. All of them trying to help the Duke, but Calais' acquisitions being what really helped the padre save the Duke. Following Rhori's lead to chase the creature through empty houses and at last, the creature abandoning the princess and making its escape.
Paris concluded with, "When I went home SecondDay, I found some of Jouet still up and dealing with Brillig's beans. He had planted them FirstDay and they had been harvestable on SecondDay. More were planted today, I have no doubt. This is why the Prince and Duke have cause to declare an early Harvest Festival. That's what I meant by elves. That's how the Duke was poisoned. As to what the Prince gave us..." Paris fumbled in her pouch. "He gave us cards. The sort of card that helps you learn a bit faster. Here. Here is one for you." Paris offered Lorraine one of her cards.
Lorraine turned the card over in her hand. "Paris," she finally said in a quiet voice. "If the Duke gave you this, I can't take it from you." She forced it back to Paris, a serious expression out of place on her face. "I've already learned a lot from you. I think you've already been worth several cards."
Honest as ever Paris replied, "The Duke did not give it to me, the Prince did. I thought -- if you were taking extra classes -- that it might help. It does; a little. One learns just a little faster whatever one is concentrating on when you use the card. But it's not like the decorated ones I told you about when I first came here. It doesn't give you lots of bits of knowledge and skills that you didn't have before. It just helps what you're currently learning. You have been so good to me, and I have so little to offer in return...."
"Oh, phooey." Again, Lorraine had her rare serious face on. "You've done plenty. And if you are going to succeed, you are going to need everything you can get to help you. I'm serious. You keep it."
[Note: Paris is very likely to give all 5 of her cards to her classmates. It just doesn't seem fair that she gets to advance with cards and they do not. Steve is going to kill me!]
[Note2: Paris did not mention Genelle in her story. It seemed possible to tell it without involving her. She also gave as much credit as possible to her companions -- keeping in mind that she'd tried to keep the narrative brief.]
Paris looked at the card and then at Lorraine. Quietly, "I was serious too. I would love to be able to give gifts to my friends here. And it doesn't seem fair that I have cards that can help us learn our lessons faster while you and my other classmates must learn without. I ..." She paused a moment, obviously dealing with a thought. The area around her mouth grew white with tension as she looked away. "Unless," she continued softly, "it is because I have so much left to learn. I suppose the Prince could have meant that."
Paris looked back at Lorraine and smiled. "If ever you think you'd like to try one of these cards, just ask. I will try to get one for you if I have none at the time." With obvious reluctance she put the card away.
Continuing the serious mood, Paris said, "Lorraine, you said that your mother has been 'mostly angry'. And -- I couldn't help noticing that you are not happy with her. Please forgive me for asking, but I do love you both! What happened while I was gone those -- last weeks? Can you tell me? Why are you and your mother so unhappy with each other?"
Lorraine sighed and put the makeup brush down. "I don't know. We fight about everything. She's been riding me from dawn to dusk lately. Like today, she practically grilled me about your brother. And they've added crash courses to our classes. How to make bandages and stuff. I think it scares her. I know it scares me." She looked out the window and then back to Paris. "But I think what made her angriest was when I asked Dad to show me how to use a sword. Even just a small one." She looked out the window again, and when she finally started talking again, her voice was very small. "And until late last night she was telling me how bad I'd been to eavesdrop on you. I'm sorry, Paris. I just wanted to know what she was going to grill you about so I could help, I didn't know it was something you needed to talk to her about." She looked down, where her free hand was twisting her dress. "I didn't mean to intrude, I was just trying to help. God, I hate it when she is right."
Softly Paris said, "Without your mother's advice, I might not have been able to bring myself to even come back to the Palace today -- or ever. She is a very wise woman and I am very grateful that she is here to advise me or grill me as I deserve. I am particularly grateful as she must see me as one of the reasons you might be interested in swords. And -- she is your mother. I do not think my mother could have borne quietly the risks Calais and I have run since she died, or the wounds that have come close to killing us. But we've had a bit of training now, and it's my job. Maman would not have liked it; but she knew we had to do our jobs. That may be what your mother fears. And Calais and I have our magic-using friends to help us; your mother knows that neither your father nor Sir Marion nor most of the fighters of the Duke and Prince have such help. That thought alone must frighten her every time talk of war comes up. It frightens me. Even with our magic and my training from your father, my friends and I would have died -- eaten by orcs and wolves -- if the High Priestess hadn't been near. Men like your father and Sir Marion -- and my classmates when they are ready -- know that this may happen to them, and yet they must find the courage to face it. And they must train hard, hard, hard to face it. So that everything they love -- you, your mother, all of this -- can survive and be loved. Your parents are wonderful, Lorraine. And you are all they have. All they have that is of real worth in this world. That's what you are feeling from them, I think. Their love."
"Oh, phooey," she said softly, looking out the window. "I don't want to be all they have. I want to...go somewhere. Be someone. Lorraine. Not Miss duGryphon." She took a deep breath and sighed. "But now I want to finish your makeup." She turned and moved in front of Paris again. "You don't want Mom to berate you for showing up half done."
"Alright," answered Paris, "but you are both Lorraine, yourself, and all that is of real importance in this world to your parents, barring, perhaps, their love for each other. Unless one can endure being cut off from all relationships, one always has the joy, sorrow and responsibility of the love one shares with the others in ones' life. That is a lesson both hard and wonderful, I've learned."
"But," Paris shook herself, "that reminds me. I do have to talk to your mother -- at least -- about my brother. He -- well, I need her advice on something, so that the Duke and the Duke's artificier can make a fair decision about him and his training. When do you think I could ask for some of her time?"
Lorraine, finally, smiled again. "If I don't get this finished and we're late, you'll have plenty of chance to talk to Mom. Seriously, just talk to her at the dance. She tends to stand in one corner, you can just go talk to her there."
Paris smiled and settled down to her friend's ministrations.
The two girls stepped into the waiting room, early enough to be able to circulate and speak with some of the others. Most of the boys were interested in what happened to Paris when she left class; she found some way to assure them that she was fine, and not in any trouble, without talking too much about the ceremony and making herself feel uncomfortable. She looked around the room as it filled up, but Ewen was still not back. As the time for dinner approached, Rodric, who had been standing there talking to her almost normally, offered his arm. "Well, line partner, may I escort you to dinner?" She thought she could hear Lady Gryphon's eyebrow go up at the overheard phrase, but no flames were forthcoming.
"My shield arm is yours, Lord Rodric," Paris smiled.
She heard, off to the side, Lady duGryphon's other eyebrow snap to the top of her forehead.
[ S: Paris will think it worth it; Rodric seems _comfortable_ for once!]
[GM: For the record, it was probably the line fighting that did it more than anything else. :) The side effect is that Rodric has moved into the category of boys that will never be more than friends at this point. Of course, while that might concern Lorraine, Paris is probably pleased.]
They were seated at the Gryphon's table, but at Lord Gryphon's end. The unaccompanied girl and the empty chair were next to Lady duGryphon. Dinner had barely begun when Ewen entered the room. His hair was wet, and his clothing was in disarray. "Forgive me, Lord Gryphon, Lady duGryphon." He was out of breath, having obviously run to dinner. "I was called away for... a matter of family. May I join you for dinner?"
Lady duGryphon, one eyebrow at its full and upright extension, looked briefly to her husband. "If my Lord will excuse us a moment?" With a nod, she took Ewen back into the waiting room. The conversation around the table picked back up, although Rodric was trying to look past Paris out to the waiting room. When Rodric's expression changed, she chanced a glance back. Ewen, now considerably straightened up, was entering the room, following Lady duGryphon. The only thing now out of place was a red colored cloth at his belt, perhaps a bandanna made into an improvised bag. Ewen was seated in the empty chair, greeting the girl next to him. Paris barely noticed Lady duGryphon speaking to the servers before she sat back down.
Rodric seemed able to talk with her tonight without his ears glowing; a fact she could see no good way to bring up in the conversation. Once or twice he ventured into subjects that Lady duGryphon would not have approved of, but Lord duGryphon didn't seem to mind. She made something of a face when she took a sip of her second glass of wine, until she realized that it had been watered down severely. Rodric noticed about the same time, and looked back at Ewen. Paris couldn't help herself, she turned to look at him too. He was having his glass filled again. "Must have been his dad," Rodric said quietly.
Paris gave Rodric a puzzled look, but made no comment. Paris did not think Rodric noticed her puzzled look.
[S: Pat, was the young people's wine normally watered? Or is this evidence that the city's wine supplies are running out? Or am I just to accept the description as description? :-) ]
[GM: It is usually cut down some, although not to Paris' sense. :) No, this is noticeably bad, water with just enough wine to give a pale color. And it seemed to be different partway through the dinner rather than at the start, perhaps occurring after Lady duGryphon returned with Ewen.]
For the second half of the dinner, as she spoke with the young man on her left, she was turned toward Ewen. While she tended to keep her focus on her partner, she could not help but frequently feel and notice Ewen's eyes on her, with an expression she could not read. His eyes did not break when she met his, but neither did his smile appear.
Some of the dread of the afternoon had started creeping back, despite Rodric's kind ministrations. What had the cutting done that had Ewen so intense? Surely growing and producing whatever number of grapes one vine could... How many grapes could a vine produce? Surely not enough to cause anything dreadful. And yet -- Ewen's expression. What, oh what had she done? Had Lord Justin put two and two together: the magic beans of Jouet and his son's magic grape? Had he forced Ewen to destroy the vine? Had -- had he gotten angry enough to -- to become ill? Or what?
A dinner she had had a hard time eating ended, and Rodric escorted her to the dance room. "May I have the first dance?" he asked, surprisingly unnervous.
Paris answered almost without thinking, wrapped still in the puzzle of Ewen and how she had hurt him. "Yes, of course, Lord Rodric." And with that, Paris found herself whirled out onto the dance floor, the novelty of that fighting with her desire to talk with Ewen. 'What have I gotten myself into now!' she thought with dismay as she realized that her usual 'but can we sit and talk?' hadn't been said.
Rodric moved much like the instructor the night before, firmly and steadily, guiding her around the dance floor. Thankfully, he allowed her a space of time to concentrate on the music and the steps before speaking, some pleasantry about the musicians. She couldn't shake the feeling, though, of all of the eyes in the room on her. There was a swirl and over Rodric's shoulder she could see Lady duGryphon in the corner, watching her. Another spin, the crowd of young faces; Lorraine dancing nearby with Alain; and Ewen...
As the musicians played the first dance, Lady duGryphon again called Ewen over to a corner. Quietly they spoke, the Lady showing no expression save what might have been the slightest gesture at the bag on his belt. Before the song was over, Ewen was dismissed, but rather than rejoin the girl he had entered with, he found himself a quiet place along the wall, well back from everyone, where he could stand and watch and wait.
Her foot came down on top of Rodric's. She tried to stop it, which threw her timing and balance off. But rather than stumble, she found herself lifted by Rodric and set back down again in time with the step. "Relax," he said with a smile. "Just step on my foot. It's not as bad as getting hit in practice."
The dance came to an end; almost naturally Paris remembered to curtsy as Rodric bowed. "Thank you for the dance, my lady," he said, making the formula sound like he meant it.
Paris could see some of the other young men coming to ask her to dance; Ewen was unmoving but staring at her.
Paris smiled, to hide the worry that seemed to be building from all directions, but her thanks was genuine. "Thank you, Lord Rodric, for making me feel like I could almost dance properly. Thank you; it was much more fun than practise. Now -- would you mind if I went and spoke with Lady duGryphon. I've a message I didn't have time to give her this afternoon." Paris started to move over to the lady's corner. Behind her, she heard Lorraine calling to two of the boys, chiding them for running away from her. It didn't register at the time, but much, much later she would realize that Lorraine had kept them from pursuing her, giving her time to talk to whomever she wanted to talk to.
Part of her wanted desperately to go to Ewen instead, to find if she could at all make amends, but -- this was her duty too, so she held herself tall, moving with her own natural dignity.
[Lady duGryphon stands alone, unless she calls someone over. Seems to be a side effect of her job.. Despite what the youngsters think, she doesn't do this because she enjoys it.]
When Paris came close enough, she curtsied carefully and asked, "My Lady, could you spare me a moment to ask your advice again? It is about my brother."
Lady Gryphon's eyes flicked over the room quickly and settled on Paris. "Of course, Miss Paris. What would you like to ask?"
"My Lady, I did not mean to foist my brother off on you and your husband. I really did want your advice about -- a problem -- Calais might cause. I did not at all want to make it appear that you were -- sponsoring -- Calais, although I truly appreciate Lord duGryphon's action. What I mean to say, my Lady, is that I tried to make a caveat before Calais was taken into the Duke. And it still needs to be said: unless the Duke and his artificier know this about Calais, there will certainly be a problem if they decide to admit him into training in the palace."
Lady duGryphon continued to watch Paris intently, waiting for her to get to her point.
Paris took a deep breath and looked into the lady's eyes. "All of Jouet knew and so they would come to me -- if something important went missing. Calais -- just picks things up, my Lady. He doesn't even realize that he has done so a few moments later. He doesn't intend to steal -- but, unless one knows about him, it sometimes looks that way. All one has to do is to remind him to empty out his pockets and then we used to return things. But -- I see, as I am sure you do -- that the Duke might not want to be -- embarrassed that way. I believe that Calais will be a true and loyal man to whomever he swears to. He's never broken an oath, my Lady. But it is only fair to the Duke and my brother, that this facet of Calais be known to the Duke before he makes a decision about my brother. Will you advise me on how the Duke can be so informed, please?"
Lady duGryphon held Paris' eyes for several moments, then looked quickly around the room to see what else was happening. She fixed her eyes on Paris. "It is very hard to discuss family problems, isn't it? The frailties we learn to live with become large when presented to someone else." She paused for another long moment. "I will see that the Duke and the artificer are informed. You are right, it could be quite an embarrassment."
Lady duGryphon's eyes darted around the room, lingering for a moment in the direction of Ewen, but Paris forced herself not to look. "Tell me, dear," she said softly, "did practice today help the problem we discussed yesterday? In, at least, most cases?"
"Some, my Lady. I -- don't know about Lord Jules or -- Lord Ewen. I had hoped -- I - I don't know." Paris shook her head slightly. She glanced over to where she had last seen Ewen. "My Lady, I could tell that something is bothering Lord Ewen. As I do consider him my friend, I would very much like to talk with him, to see if I can help. Would - would that be acceptable? Or -- should I still stay away?"
Lady duGryphon's eyes moved once back in Ewen's direction and then to Paris. "Friends are very important in life, Miss Paris. It is not improper at these gatherings to talk to anyone, it is only improper to do so to the exclusion of all others." She looked sternly at Paris. "A rule which is designed more to protect you than you might think, by the way." Her face relaxed again to its formal impassiveness, yet Paris still couldn't think of her as unfriendly. "I think he is waiting to talk to you, but wants to wait until you are ready. And, while we generally discourage gifts, we also try to ensure that our charges are not indebted to each other by them. I believe he may have something to give you in exchange for your gift of last night." She glanced to Ewen and back. "But much bothers him, and I do not know his heart. I do not know if he has come to peace with the events of yesterday. It is up to you to decide if you wish to talk to him."
"My Lady, if it is up to me, I wish with all my heart to talk to him. I never intended to trouble him and would make amends as best I can."
The interview with Lady duGryphon ended in mid-song; Paris curtsied and excused herself. The other youths were either paired up for the dance, or standing in shy little cliques around the floor. Except for Ewen, still standing straight and tall at the edge of the room, still watching her, face unreadable.
Paris took a deep breath and then moved in Ewen's direction, with unconscious grace but very conscious of the hope/despair she had of being let back into his good graces. Her eyes met his. "My Lord," her voice was characteristically soft.
"My Lady." His reply was uncharacteristically hoarse and quiet.
Suddenly she realized that she didn't even know how to start, what to say. "Forgive me for intruding, but -- Ewen? Is all -- well -- with you? Can you tell me -- what is wrong?"
He swallowed a couple of times, trying to force moisture into his mouth. "I - I have a gift for you, Paris." He handed over the small bundle. "Open it, please" he continued in his low voice.
She turned it over in her hands. It was a red bandanna, much like her father had had to wipe his head on long summer days in the field, but tied at the top to make an improvised bag. For a moment the smell of it brought back memories of her father in the summer; it was slightly dusty with the honest dirt and sweat of the field. She tugged a little at the knot, carefully opening it to reveal a small bunch of grapes.
"They grew overnight, into mature plants. Had Paolo not set these aside for me," and Ewen simply trailed off, shaking his head. "They all wanted to sample some of them, unbelieving. And then rejoicing. Never have I seen a harvest festival half as heartfelt as that gathered from those three vines. Not a grape is left on them, but the vines are still there, for all to see." He looked at Paris, and she thought he was pleading. "Did you know that would happen?"
It was her turn to swallow, her mouth suddenly dry. "N...No," she stammered. "Not until last night, when I returned to the others from Jouet and found out how the other plants had grown. They...they did the same thing."
Ewen nodded slowly. "I finally thought as much. At first I thought you had known and not told me, but then I finally realized you wouldn't do that." He swallowed again. "Paolo has taken some cuttings from these vines. Will they do the same thing tomorrow?"
She looked back at his eyes steadily. "I don't know. I won't know until I hear what happened to the other plants today. I will run there and back now if you need to know."
"No," he said firmly but quietly. "Paolo will know soon enough." He shook his head again, looking at the grapes in her hand. "They rejoiced like... It takes years, a decade, to get vines to grow and produce. They faced a decade of not being able to do their craft, and this brought back to them some hope." He looked back up to her, pain and defiance in his eyes. "And I wondered if you had any need of us, and went to go drown myself in my father's bottle of wine."
Paris almost gasped. Inside something was declaring, 'No! He isn't drunk. He wouldn't have done such a thing!' And something else was claiming, 'How - how can I ever make them understand that I need them far more than they could need me?"
He paused, not speaking, looking at her. In the background she heard only silence, as the music had stopped and she could not hear anything else, as she held her breath and her blood pounded in her ears. "And I couldn't bring myself to do it. So I rode back here, trying to think. And partook of Lady duGryphon's water instead." He stopped again and closed his eyes. "I remember, when I was a little boy, my mother telling me that someday I would meet a girl who would bring magic into my life. I don't think you're what she had in mind, but magic is what you've brought."
He opened his eyes and looked at her again, the pain and defiance gone. "All I want to know now," and he had to stop to swallow his voice back, away from breaking, as his eyes pleaded. "Is, Lady, if I may have the pleasure of the next dance?"
On the verge of tears for his pain and for the joy of his request, Paris nodded. "I would love to dance with you," she whispered.
[S: Paris will be so happy to be having this dance that I think the actually dancing will not bother her. Which means she won't worry about her feet which probably means she actually dances better.]
[GM: I believe that Ewen, also, is "in the moment" rather than worrying about what's next, which means he will probably dance better as well.]
The music ended. Ewen, with a graceful bow towards Paris, spoke clearly and normally. "My Lady, thank you for a wonderful dance."
Curtseying, Paris responded. "Thank you, my Lord." She paused for just a breath. "I am not magic, Ewen. Perhaps a delivery boy -- but I myself am not magical. I -- am just someone who understands loss -- better than I had ever wanted to. Someone who wants to relieve loss when chance makes that possible. I think, perhaps, I need people more, rather than less, because of understanding loss."
Ewen smiled softly at her. "I know," he started, and was interrupted by a jostle of other young men, standing nearby to catch Paris' attention and claim the next dance. 'Not now!' she wanted to scream, when a one girl cavalry charge arrived and parted the throng. "Not now, boys," Lorraine said, grabbing Paris by one elbow and locking arms. "We have to go powder our noses. Besides, it's far too warm an evening to dance two in a row." Lorraine hustled the stunned Paris out of the room, into the relative cool outside. "You ok?" she asked, turning to her friend. "You were either about to cry or about to laugh, I wasn't sure which."
[S: Another chance lost. For the second time, Paris might have revoked her own resolve. Hm. Pat? Sheryl actually doesn't quite understand the pattern set up. If a girl is not allowed to have two dance sessions in a row with a given boy, how is it that she can dance and then go out onto the balcony with him? Or does she cut the dance short on the pretext of being warm -- and they are required to be back on the dance floor when the next tune starts up? That seems too deliberate a 'set up' for my mind.]
[GM: The musicians occasionally take breaks, and the cleverest young lads will get the dance right before a break. :) Also, it is uncommon for people to dance every dance--the boys are not yet that gallant, and there is quite a bit of wallflowering by the younger ones especially. What Paris is getting is the effect of the first night she actually dances. There were some boys who were more afraid of just sitting and talking to her than of dancing. :) Finally, after one has danced a while, it seems to be permissible to walk outside, so long as it's not "too long"--one of those conventions that people learn a sense of, but there isn't a hard and fast rule, or at least one that is written down. :) Here, if Lady duGryphon calls you over after you come back in the room, you've been gone a bit too long. If Lord duGryphon steps out to "get his own breath of fresh air," you've been gone waaay too long. :) The adults do too notice what's going on, they just don't make a point of it.]
Paris gulped down something that, indeed, had bordered on a hysterical sob. After a moment she managed to say, "Both, I think. Oh, Lorraine, thank you. I -- Ewen doesn't hate me! But -- oh, there seems like so much he and I should talk about -- but everyone else -- so many people --" She gulped again. "Thank you, Lorraine, for getting me out of there."
"Of course he doesn't hate you," Lorraine grinned. "Silly. Can I see what he gave you?" She picked up the proffered cloth and looked inside. "Fresh grapes? But..." She looked puzzled for a few minutes, and then a sly smile crept across her face. "This must have something to do with that harvest festival I heard a little about for next week. You know, it's been so long since I've had fresh fruit, I would trade you, oh, I don't know, a dress for the festival for half of these grapes." Her smile broke into a wide grin. "And I know just the perfect person to get you a dress to show you off. It will be so much fun!" [A little clumsy, fooling neither of them, but how can you hate her for trying? :) ]
Paris was perfectly serious. "If you want fresh grapes, these are yours. All of them. I would love to give them to you. I - I would keep the kerchief though, when you don't need it more. It - it reminded me of my father." She gestured for Lorraine to keep the fruit.
Then Paris smiled at her friend. Softly, "And we will look at dresses together. We can manage something." Then she stopped, puzzled. "But when? We have classes all day, every day -- except SevenDay, and that wouldn't do."
Lorraine practically hopped in place. "We will! And as for time, well, dear Paris, there are some things important enough to skip dinner for!" She broke the bunch of grapes roughly in half, and handed one half with the kerchief back to Paris. "I'll talk to Mom. She'll make some other arrangements so that there aren't unaccompanied boys. We'll rush you there tomorrow after you clean up." She popped a grape in her mouth and smiled. "This is going to be such fun!"
Paris was tired when she returned to Jouet Square. Almost too tired for joy or loneliness to have any call on her any more. But, to her surprise, many of the others were still waiting up for her. And so she learned why Rhori had thought she was married and thus entitled to a title. And learned, too, with Mia's question, "Do you and Rhori want help on your quest?" that there were still friends here. "Yes. Yes, I want help."
Rhori took Paris aside. The main burden of their conversation was Rhori asking why the Prince thought Paris and he should go find Justice and Strength. Paris made a leap of logic and told him that the ceremony in her vision had ended with the word 'Justice' and she was guessing that his ceremony had ended with the word 'Strength'. "'Fortitude'," the ranger corrected. Paris explained that Strength and Fortitude could be considered one and the same. Basically, in Paris' mind, Prince William has made the leap of logic that those Major Arcana are directly related to the associated Orders. And that seems a correct assumption, in Paris' eyes. Then Rhori and Paris came back to the others and started the discussion on where we might go on this quest, hypothesizing that mere wandering would bring us to the Warlord, and that direct seeking might bring us to Strength and Justice so that we had them 'on our side' before having to deal with the Warlord.
"Second Week" copyright 1999 P.Shea & S.Knowles. The contents of this site are copyright 2004 Sheryl A. Knowles unless otherwise specified. All rights reserved.