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Ashes, part 5
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[Report delivered, Zalir removed her hand from her sword and relaxed minutely. "So. What do you want to do?"]
"That explains the magician and the taint-house. What of the fires? I presume they were taken care of?" Tir said.
"I wouldn't have left otherwise," Zalir said. "One of the garrison guards was throwing dirt on the corpses, the second was digging a firebreak around the tree, and the third was heading back to the tower to gather the rest of the garrison as I rode back. The owl tower hasn't sent for help, so the danger was contained." Her face twisted into strange, half-sour surprise, and she added, "I've never seen fire burn so readily in miasma. You'd expect a corpse lying across the boundary to burn only on our side and smother on the other, but the magician's flame kept burning outside too -- a bit lower and redder, but still burning. It must have started impossibly hot, even if it didn't look blinding white."
"Other worlds don't follow our world's rules," Riam said. "Maybe magic fire still follows its own rules until the magician lets go of it."
"That may be so, but it's irrelevant just now," Tir said, uncrossing her arms. "Zalir, as holder to master guard, I acknowledge your report. Do you have any unofficial impressions of our guests?"
Zalir shrugged. "I like the companion from what little I saw. She seemed sensible, and it takes a lot of will to stay coherent through the kind of pain she must have been feeling. The magician is unstable, but that's no surprise."
Zalir paused, her hand drifting back to her sword for a moment. "She's very proud -- the magician. She never believed she was in any danger from us. And I don't think it was because she can throw fire. She's proud down to the marrow of her bones, like she was raised to be proud before she'd done anything of worth. I bet her homeland practices blood inheritance with no limits, and she was born to power."
Riam glanced at Tir, and knew his sister's mind was flashing back to their uncle's tales of the lion and the grass. The lion was strong and fierce, and proud in his strength. He stalked fierce and bold over the plains, treading the grass beneath its claws. The grass looked defenseless, didn't even try to whip into fetters for the lion's feet. But when the fire came, roaring across the plains like a miles-long wall of flame and hunger, the grass grew back from its deep, deep roots, while the lion's bones blackened and crumbled away.
"Pride and flame are a dangerous pair," Tir said after a moment. "Let's all keep a close watch on our nameless magician, even if her intentions prove benign. And someone needs to teach her about grass fires before she kills us all in a fit of pique. It's been a dry summer; we don't need any sparks."
"Riam volunteers," Zalir said promptly.
Riam stared accusingly at his friend. "Just because I assume people mean well is no reason for you to saddle me with every troublemaker you'd rather avoid talking to."
"True," Tir agreed with a half-smile, "but you're good at explanations that don't leave people feeling stupid or angry, which is what we need. Besides, this will keep you out of Purrar's attention for a time, and I know you don't like kitchen work."
"But--" said Riam.
Tir held up her hand. "No. We'll seat the magician next to you at the high table tonight. Be friendly, but don't let her out of your sight -- or the sight of whomever you delegate as your eyes and ears while you sleep and work with Sular -- until she and her companion leave Zerlon. I place this responsibility in your hands; hold it as I hold us all."
Riam swallowed his annoyance at the formal order. When Tir spoke as his sister, they could argue over trivialities from sunrise to sunset, and sometimes did if only to remind themselves of their childhood. When she spoke as holder, though, any objections had best be for sound and important reasons -- and wanting to avoid spending time with a potentially unpleasant person didn't hold worth.
"Yes, Tir," Riam said. He looked from his sister to Zalir, noting the contrast between Tir's clean and formal tunic and trousers, and Zalir's dust- and sweat-streaked riding clothes. His own clothes were somewhere in between -- shirt a bit sweaty around his shoulders and back, trousers a bit dusty and grass-stained, but nothing too visible against the dark brown cotton. "You should get back to the great hall. Zalir and I need to clean up a little to impress the magician."
Tir seemed to focus on them for the first time that evening, and sighed. "This is why blood inheritance is stupid; it makes people pay too much attention to the skin instead of the bone. Oh, go on, wash up. But hurry."
She opened the door and strode back through the dim, candle-lit corridor toward the great hall. Riam and Zalir exchanged an amused look, then broke and ran in the opposite direction, toward the suites and washrooms at the back of the compound.
Riam laid his clothes on his bed for use again tomorrow -- they were perfectly serviceable, and he wasn't going to change to fit a stranger's notion of propriety for more than one night -- and fished out his feast-day black trousers and red tunic from the spicewood chest against the wall. Then he ducked into the washroom he shared with Tir and her family, opened the spigot to let water flow into the trough, and splashed the worst of the day's grime from his face and hands.
As the dregs swirled across the room and down the drain, Riam stepped back into the corridor to find Zalir waiting, wearing black on black and her sword still belted to her side.
"You were dirtier than I was," Riam said. "How do you always finish faster than I do?"
Zalir grinned. "Practice. If you came on patrols, you'd get efficient too. Now come on -- you have a date with a magician you're not allowed to miss."
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Tir was waiting in the doorway of the great hall rather than seated at her central place at the high table. Riam glanced toward the back of the room and noticed that three other seats were empty: one to the left of Tir's larger, hand-carved chair, and two to the right. Sular sat in the first filled chair on the right.
Tir followed Riam's attention and said, "The magician will sit between me and you. I asked Sular to sit on your right so you'll have someone to talk to even if the magician continue to hold her tongue. Don't take this as permission to talk binding all night and ignore your task."
"If the magician won't talk, I'll explain binding to her; Sular can eavesdrop," Riam said, grinning down at his sister.
Tir shook her head indulgently. "Oh, Riam. Talk about the food instead, or Sular's children. We'll have to introduce you by your job, but there's no sense letting an outsider know who our other binders are."
"It's hard enough to guard you, you overgrown puppy," Zalir added, reaching up to punch Riam amiably in the shoulder. "Turn around and look sharp. Gador is bringing the magician around the corner, and I didn't wash up and put on my good clothes just to let you two make me look foolish with your bickering."
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1) Okay, so basically I lost Friday and Saturday to a combination of my mom visiting, my computer pitching screaming fits -- i.e., crashing a lot and refusing to restart properly -- and an incipient cold tipping over the edge into an actual cold (which, yes, means I am a bit stoned on NyQuil at the moment). Therefore, this is the sum total of my progress on both days and I am going back to bed, word count targets be damned.
2) 1,250 words today, 6,800 total.
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Mom's visit went fairly well. I got off work shortly after 5pm on Friday, whereupon I walked home, finished tidying up a bit, and vacuumed my floors. Mom arrived shortly after 6pm, brought in some stuff, and fed and walked her dog. Then we went out to dinner at the East Shore Cafe, which was oddly underpatronized for a Friday night. Mom had penne pasta with chicken, bacon, and mushrooms in alfredo sauce. I had salmon with spinach and vegetables in wasabi sauce, plus mashed potatoes on the side. Both dishes were lovely.
Mom slept in my computer room on my inflatable air mattress. Today we got up between 7 and 8am, had breakfast at Friendly's, and went grocery shopping (I took shameless advantage to buy several heavy items that I usually ration out one or two per trip, because I only have so much arm strength). Then we went to the Farmer's Market, followed by a trip to GreenStar and lunch at New Delhi Diamond, the Indian restaurant kittycorner from the public library. Then we drove up the west side of the lake to Bellweather Cidery and Hosmer Winery, where we bought some alcoholic beverages. (We also bought some wine at the Farmer's Market, since we plan to do a blind tasting of three Rieslings at Thanksgiving; that has been fun in the past.)
We bought ice cream at Cayuga Creamery on our way back to Ithaca -- Mom had rum raisin and I had pistachio. They're way too far out of the way to visit on a whim, but as part of a vineyard trip? I definitely recommend them.
Mom left around 4pm and reached NJ safely. I, meanwhile, took a nap, and am now about to return to bed after dinner and a successful transcription of my handwritten NaNo progress.
That is all.
Ashes, part 5
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[Report delivered, Zalir removed her hand from her sword and relaxed minutely. "So. What do you want to do?"]
"That explains the magician and the taint-house. What of the fires? I presume they were taken care of?" Tir said.
"I wouldn't have left otherwise," Zalir said. "One of the garrison guards was throwing dirt on the corpses, the second was digging a firebreak around the tree, and the third was heading back to the tower to gather the rest of the garrison as I rode back. The owl tower hasn't sent for help, so the danger was contained." Her face twisted into strange, half-sour surprise, and she added, "I've never seen fire burn so readily in miasma. You'd expect a corpse lying across the boundary to burn only on our side and smother on the other, but the magician's flame kept burning outside too -- a bit lower and redder, but still burning. It must have started impossibly hot, even if it didn't look blinding white."
"Other worlds don't follow our world's rules," Riam said. "Maybe magic fire still follows its own rules until the magician lets go of it."
"That may be so, but it's irrelevant just now," Tir said, uncrossing her arms. "Zalir, as holder to master guard, I acknowledge your report. Do you have any unofficial impressions of our guests?"
Zalir shrugged. "I like the companion from what little I saw. She seemed sensible, and it takes a lot of will to stay coherent through the kind of pain she must have been feeling. The magician is unstable, but that's no surprise."
Zalir paused, her hand drifting back to her sword for a moment. "She's very proud -- the magician. She never believed she was in any danger from us. And I don't think it was because she can throw fire. She's proud down to the marrow of her bones, like she was raised to be proud before she'd done anything of worth. I bet her homeland practices blood inheritance with no limits, and she was born to power."
Riam glanced at Tir, and knew his sister's mind was flashing back to their uncle's tales of the lion and the grass. The lion was strong and fierce, and proud in his strength. He stalked fierce and bold over the plains, treading the grass beneath its claws. The grass looked defenseless, didn't even try to whip into fetters for the lion's feet. But when the fire came, roaring across the plains like a miles-long wall of flame and hunger, the grass grew back from its deep, deep roots, while the lion's bones blackened and crumbled away.
"Pride and flame are a dangerous pair," Tir said after a moment. "Let's all keep a close watch on our nameless magician, even if her intentions prove benign. And someone needs to teach her about grass fires before she kills us all in a fit of pique. It's been a dry summer; we don't need any sparks."
"Riam volunteers," Zalir said promptly.
Riam stared accusingly at his friend. "Just because I assume people mean well is no reason for you to saddle me with every troublemaker you'd rather avoid talking to."
"True," Tir agreed with a half-smile, "but you're good at explanations that don't leave people feeling stupid or angry, which is what we need. Besides, this will keep you out of Purrar's attention for a time, and I know you don't like kitchen work."
"But--" said Riam.
Tir held up her hand. "No. We'll seat the magician next to you at the high table tonight. Be friendly, but don't let her out of your sight -- or the sight of whomever you delegate as your eyes and ears while you sleep and work with Sular -- until she and her companion leave Zerlon. I place this responsibility in your hands; hold it as I hold us all."
Riam swallowed his annoyance at the formal order. When Tir spoke as his sister, they could argue over trivialities from sunrise to sunset, and sometimes did if only to remind themselves of their childhood. When she spoke as holder, though, any objections had best be for sound and important reasons -- and wanting to avoid spending time with a potentially unpleasant person didn't hold worth.
"Yes, Tir," Riam said. He looked from his sister to Zalir, noting the contrast between Tir's clean and formal tunic and trousers, and Zalir's dust- and sweat-streaked riding clothes. His own clothes were somewhere in between -- shirt a bit sweaty around his shoulders and back, trousers a bit dusty and grass-stained, but nothing too visible against the dark brown cotton. "You should get back to the great hall. Zalir and I need to clean up a little to impress the magician."
Tir seemed to focus on them for the first time that evening, and sighed. "This is why blood inheritance is stupid; it makes people pay too much attention to the skin instead of the bone. Oh, go on, wash up. But hurry."
She opened the door and strode back through the dim, candle-lit corridor toward the great hall. Riam and Zalir exchanged an amused look, then broke and ran in the opposite direction, toward the suites and washrooms at the back of the compound.
Riam laid his clothes on his bed for use again tomorrow -- they were perfectly serviceable, and he wasn't going to change to fit a stranger's notion of propriety for more than one night -- and fished out his feast-day black trousers and red tunic from the spicewood chest against the wall. Then he ducked into the washroom he shared with Tir and her family, opened the spigot to let water flow into the trough, and splashed the worst of the day's grime from his face and hands.
As the dregs swirled across the room and down the drain, Riam stepped back into the corridor to find Zalir waiting, wearing black on black and her sword still belted to her side.
"You were dirtier than I was," Riam said. "How do you always finish faster than I do?"
Zalir grinned. "Practice. If you came on patrols, you'd get efficient too. Now come on -- you have a date with a magician you're not allowed to miss."
---------------
Tir was waiting in the doorway of the great hall rather than seated at her central place at the high table. Riam glanced toward the back of the room and noticed that three other seats were empty: one to the left of Tir's larger, hand-carved chair, and two to the right. Sular sat in the first filled chair on the right.
Tir followed Riam's attention and said, "The magician will sit between me and you. I asked Sular to sit on your right so you'll have someone to talk to even if the magician continue to hold her tongue. Don't take this as permission to talk binding all night and ignore your task."
"If the magician won't talk, I'll explain binding to her; Sular can eavesdrop," Riam said, grinning down at his sister.
Tir shook her head indulgently. "Oh, Riam. Talk about the food instead, or Sular's children. We'll have to introduce you by your job, but there's no sense letting an outsider know who our other binders are."
"It's hard enough to guard you, you overgrown puppy," Zalir added, reaching up to punch Riam amiably in the shoulder. "Turn around and look sharp. Gador is bringing the magician around the corner, and I didn't wash up and put on my good clothes just to let you two make me look foolish with your bickering."
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---------------
1) Okay, so basically I lost Friday and Saturday to a combination of my mom visiting, my computer pitching screaming fits -- i.e., crashing a lot and refusing to restart properly -- and an incipient cold tipping over the edge into an actual cold (which, yes, means I am a bit stoned on NyQuil at the moment). Therefore, this is the sum total of my progress on both days and I am going back to bed, word count targets be damned.
2) 1,250 words today, 6,800 total.
---------------
Mom's visit went fairly well. I got off work shortly after 5pm on Friday, whereupon I walked home, finished tidying up a bit, and vacuumed my floors. Mom arrived shortly after 6pm, brought in some stuff, and fed and walked her dog. Then we went out to dinner at the East Shore Cafe, which was oddly underpatronized for a Friday night. Mom had penne pasta with chicken, bacon, and mushrooms in alfredo sauce. I had salmon with spinach and vegetables in wasabi sauce, plus mashed potatoes on the side. Both dishes were lovely.
Mom slept in my computer room on my inflatable air mattress. Today we got up between 7 and 8am, had breakfast at Friendly's, and went grocery shopping (I took shameless advantage to buy several heavy items that I usually ration out one or two per trip, because I only have so much arm strength). Then we went to the Farmer's Market, followed by a trip to GreenStar and lunch at New Delhi Diamond, the Indian restaurant kittycorner from the public library. Then we drove up the west side of the lake to Bellweather Cidery and Hosmer Winery, where we bought some alcoholic beverages. (We also bought some wine at the Farmer's Market, since we plan to do a blind tasting of three Rieslings at Thanksgiving; that has been fun in the past.)
We bought ice cream at Cayuga Creamery on our way back to Ithaca -- Mom had rum raisin and I had pistachio. They're way too far out of the way to visit on a whim, but as part of a vineyard trip? I definitely recommend them.
Mom left around 4pm and reached NJ safely. I, meanwhile, took a nap, and am now about to return to bed after dinner and a successful transcription of my handwritten NaNo progress.
That is all.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-07 03:37 am (UTC)Anyway, this was another enjoyable section, and I look forward to reading more!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-07 03:59 am (UTC)Tir did sort of get her position via blood inheritance -- their uncle was the previous holder -- but in Zerlon, while a holder can choose his or her favored successor, the people have to approve of the choice; otherwise, no dice. There's a bit of an uneasy back-and-forth over the role of blood inheritance, which is why their uncle felt a need to drum that moral tale into his niece and nephew.
Riam, on the other hand, got his job just by being good at it. Not everyone has the knack to be a binder, much less be good enough to protect as large an area as Zerlon, so anyone who is both willing and able is trained without question. Riam is good enough that his talent was obvious in childhood (there is a relevant backstory incident with him and Zalir, which I hope to show at some point), so though he couldn't be formally trained until he turned 18, he was kind of doomed to be a binder unless he actively resisted... which he didn't because he would have felt terribly guilty. (Also, he does genuinely like his job.)
Zerlon is laxer about training binders than a lot of places, for various reasons, which is why Riam is the binder of Zerlon, rather than one of several co-equal binders or the chief binder of a group (which are patterns prevalent in other regions). I hope to work in more information about that later on, again by way of contrast with how things are done in Morgalen's home.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-10 08:20 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-11 04:12 am (UTC)Binders are not part of the regular power structure in Zerlon, though that does not always hold true for other lands. So it's a coincidence that Riam is the binder while Tir is the holder, though ironically, that oddity makes them seem more normal to Morgalen!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-11 06:42 am (UTC)