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* Rhys enters from the kitchen, unlocks the main door, and returns behind the bar. "Hall's open." * Zoya stalks in, dragging a limping Temire by one arm. Temire is bleeding from more than a dozen cuts on her arms and legs, and bruises are starting to darken on her face and arms as well. Zoya steers her rather firmly to the nearest chair and sets her in it. "Stay there." * Rhys looks at the injured Temire with some concern, and comes around the bar. "What happened," he crisply asks. * Temire is leaning heavily on Zoya, clearly unable to stand on her own. Her shirt has been cut to ribbons, and stained with blood. She nods weakly to Zoya's command but otherwise remains still. <Zoya> Rhys, do you have anything in the way of healing magics? This foolish child thought she could take on a dozen toughs one-handed. ::Zoya is quite uncharacteristically irritable:: <Rhys> Just a moment. <Temire> ::A quiet drip can be heard as blood splashes on the floor from a deep cut in Temire's right hand.:: <Zoya> I managed to chase them off, but I have little ability in the way of healing, aside from bandages and the like. * Rhys shuffles into the Hall's office, and rummages around in the desk drawers for a while. He returns carrying a small vial that contains an iridescent yellow liquid. He hands it to Zoya. <Zoya> ::looks at the vial:: For internal or external use? <Rhys> Just have her drink it. <Zoya> All right. ::carefully opens the vial's stopper and hands it to Temire, making sure she's got a good grip on it before turning it loose.:: * Temire grips the vial with her left hand and carefully drinks the contents. <Zoya> ::to Rhys:: Well, I didn't want her to drink it if I was supposed to be pouring it on the wounds. * Glossaria slips in the front door quietly, head down and cloaked. Her clothing-- not to mention herself-- is rather grey, tattered, and nondescript, though she looks fairly young. Where she goes, the scent of dust and old parchment follows her. <Temire> ::The worst of Temire's wounds begin to heal, but after a few moments it's clear that while her life's no longer in danger, she's still in bad shape.:: * Glossaria ducks out the door again for a moment to examine the sign, and comes back in, looking around her wide-eyed. * Zoya glances at Glossaria curiously, but turns back to Temire, hands on hips. <Zoya> Now. What were you doing, wandering around the city without an escort? <Rhys> ::semi-apologetically, to Zoya:: It's the best that we've got on the premises. <Glossaria> [giggle...back up above 0 hp, but still not at full...] * Rhys looks up at the cloaked stranger. "If you'll have a seat, I'll be right with you, lady." <Zoya> ::to Rhys:: That's all right. It'll do her some good to remember the pain for a while. <Temire> I've never needed an escort before. And I'm far more capable of defending myself than I used to be. ::Gestures with her left hand:: Clear I need some more practice. * Glossaria jumps a little as Rhys addresses her, nods, and continues looking around, as if she could soak the world in through her eyes. Her gaze falls on Temire and she creeps closer. * Temire chuckles lightly, "You sound like Master Yohko." <Zoya> ::sighs:: Better than you used to be is when you're in the most danger. Tell us what happened. * Rhys returns behind the bar, and addresses the stranger in grey. "Sorry to keep you waiting, miss. Can I get you anything?" <Temire> I was wondering around, trying to think through everything. Probably should have been paying more attention to where I was going. Next thing I know the five of them were on me. <Zoya> And you stood your ground because...? <Temire> Because I couldn't find an opening that would let me run away without getting hit in the back. * Glossaria looks over as Rhys addresses her again, starting guiltily. "Me? Oh...stay a moment, milord..." She whips out a pencil from behind her ear and a much-dog-eared notebook, and starts writing furiously, pausing every so often to look up at Temire and muttering something about penny dreadfuls. <Zoya> Yohko hasn't taught you how to break-and-run yet? Maybe I'll have a word with her. * Rhys arches an eyebrow and studies the stranger. "What *are* you doing?" <Zoya> And in the meantime, may I suggest that you wait until you are in a secure situation before doing your heavy thinking? * Temire nods weakly. <Glossaria> ::pauses in her writing to look up at Rhys, blinking innocently:: Gathering food for thought. <Zoya> ::smiles suddenly:: Or perhaps I'll have a word with Jaret and ask *him* to speak to Yohko. <Rhys> ::eyebrows draw down in a moderate glare:: Mm-hm. <Glossaria> ::looks unfazed by Rhys's glare as she sticks her pencil back behind her ear and approaches the bar:: You would be the... master of this hall? ::perching lightly on a stool:: <Rhys> I am the barkeep for this evening, yes. I am not the owner. He is... out. * Zoya walks over to the bar and sits down. <Zoya> I'd like an ale, if you please. <Rhys> Of course. ::pours Zoya an ale:: Here you are. <Glossaria> ::glances at Zoya as she sits and orders, and does a double-take before pulling her hood closer about her face and hunching forward:: Mistress Zoya! ::(whispered under her breath):: <Zoya> ::pauses in the act of lifting the ale to her lips and looks over at Glossaria:: Ah... Yes? <Glossaria> ::looks petrified:: Umm.. umm... n-nothing... Sorry... Didn't mean to disturb you, mistress... <Zoya> ::frowns, confused, and takes a long drink of ale:: Have we met? <Glossaria> ::gnawing on her lower lip, obviously nervous:: No, no, never...well...I mean, not exactly...no. No, we haven't met. * Zoya looks up at Rhys in complete confusion, then back at Glossaria. * Rhys shrugs in response to Zoya's glance, and continues studying the newcomer. <Zoya> ::carefully:: Then do you mind if I ask how you know me? <Glossaria> ::shrinks back into her cloak and answers in a very small voice:: I...I suppose you could say it's because I'm one of your...servants, mistress. I'm sorry, I'll *never* go out again if you don't want me to! * Rhys looks dubiously at Zoya. <Zoya> ::blinks in astonishment:: I didn't think I *had* any servants. * Eljorin walks into the bar, looking somewhat worn and abused. His right arm is in a sling, and his left eye is sporting the remnants of a week-old black eye. He walks over to the bar, and smiles at Rhys. "Good evening, Rhys. A glass of ale, if you please... <Glossaria> Well...::blinking a few times:: The library was in *terrible* disarray, mistress, and... and... ::swallows:: you *did* say you wanted to do something about it eventually.... <Zoya> Well, yes, but... ::eyes widen:: You're part of the *Tower*? That explains a lot. ::raises an eyebrow at her:: But I don't know what I've done to make you fear me so. Please, relax. <Rhys> Of course. What happened to you? ::pours Eljorin a glass of ale:: <Eljorin> ::looks down at his arm, and laughs:: Nothing too exciting. A band of pirates picked the wrong schooner to try to board, is all. <Glossaria> ::relaxing a little, clearing her throat:: Well, I'm not precisely a *part* of the Tower, I was living there perfectly happily before until... ::clearing her throat again:: but yes, the Tower *did* make me your new Librarian. <Rhys> Really? Well, I'm glad to hear that you're well, then. Was this near Marsember, or in foreign waters? * Rhys glances over at Temire, checking to make sure she's not being *too* quiet. * Temire suddenly falls out of her chair, clutching her stomach. A moment later she vomits blood. <Zoya> You were living in the Tower? You mean, before I showed up? How odd; I thought I would have noticed someone else living there. <Eljorin> ::shakes his head:: Oh, nowhere near Marsember. About two days shy of Waterdeep, actually... <Zoya> ::looks over at Temire suddenly:: Ah, Rhys... Do you have any more of that healing potion? I think she may need it. <Rhys> I'll see if I can dig something up in the kitchen. ::turns & walks through the kitchen door:: * Temire heaves again, then rolls onto her side. Her face is flushed and covered in sweat. Periodically shivers shake her body. <Glossaria> Well, you did, but... ::following Zoya's gaze, wide-eyed.:: You mean... that girl isn't supposed to be leaking? ::frowns in thought and whips out her notebook, frantically pawing through pages:: * Eljorin looks over at Temire, and frowns. Eljorin looks at Zoya. "Is she going to be alright?" <Zoya> ::frowns and moves swiftly to Temire's side:: Dammit, if she's been poisoned... * Rhys returns carrying two small crystal tumblers. He sets them down on the counter. "I'm not sure about this. The dark liquid is labeled Theriaca -- a generic poison antidote. The other... well, it's got some ancient glyphs on it referring to health, fortitude, and long life, but I can't say for sure that it'll help. * Zoya lays a hand on Temire's head, then begins checking the visible wounds for signs of poisoning. <Rhys> Perhaps you would have been better off taking her to an actual healers... * Eljorin takes a sip of ale, and frowns sternly at Temire. <Zoya> Possibly, but this was closer, and I didn't realize she was quite *this* bad. <Glossaria> Oh! Poison? I know I have that in here... .wait a moment... ::starts flipping pages in the other direction:: AH! Here it is.... ::tears out a pages, and to the amazement of many, starts eating it:: * Temire rolls over enough to heave up more blood, then collapses again. <Zoya> Well... Can't hurt her to give her this, I suppose. ::takes the poison antidote and lifts Temire's head.:: Drink this, Temire. Come on, just drink it. * Glossaria studies the inert Temire critically for a few long seconds, turns to Zoya:: No! Not that one, here... <Zoya> ::blinks, pulls the antidote vial away from Temire's lips, and looks up at Glossaria.:: What? <Glossaria> ::picks up the other vial from the bar, licking the label and nodding, satisfied:: <Glossaria> Give her this. The poison is Gondish, the Theriac will only make it worse. Use this other. <Zoya> Are you- Nevermind. ::takes the older vial and offers it to Temire:: <Temire> Temire slowly drinks the offered liquid. * Zoya returns to looking for the wound(s) that provided entry for the poison. <Glossaria> And for wounds.... ::thumbs a few pages past the recently removed entry, tears out another page, and begins to chew on it:: Please, I've not tried this in a practical sense, yet, but.... * Eljorin sips his ale, then turns to Rhys. "What is this all about, then?" * Glossaria moves over to Temire's side and places a hand on her forehead. <Zoya> ::watches Glossaria in astonishment:: <Glossaria> ::glancing up at Zoya:: Looking for an entrance wound is no good... Gondish poison works on the skin, and leaves no trace.... <Temire> Okay, no wandering the city alone anymore. * Rhys eyes Glossaria curiously. "I have little idea, Eljorin. Temire was ambushed by five of Marsember's slackswords, and barely escaped from being killed. Zoya found them, scared off the attackers, and brought Temire here." <Zoya> Damn. ::to Temire:: That's what I've been trying to tell you. * Glossaria chants a few ancient words which spin into the air and hang there for a moment, scribed in light, before sinking down to settle and disappear in Temire's body. * Zoya watches Glossaria in wonder, a grin slowly forming... <Glossaria> ::blinks rapidly a few times and settles back on her heels:: Oh. My. I didn't expect it to feel like *that.* ::licks her lips:: * Temire blinks, "Please tell me I'm not hallucinating?" <Zoya> ::leans forward and grips Glossaria's shoulder, steadying her:: You've never done any magic before? <Glossaria> ::blinks again:: Well... no. Not me. Not exactly. But I've read a great deal of it. <Zoya> ::to Temire:: That depends. What are you seeing that might be a hallucination. <Zoya> ::looks back at Glossaria:: I see. We need to sit down and have a long talk, you and I... <Temire> Not anymore, but did she just speak a bunch of glowing words that hovered in the air, and then sank into me? <Zoya> Yes. Do you feel any better? <Glossaria> ::looks meek, and cowers again:: Y- yes, mistress. <Zoya> ::glances up at Rhys:: Can you send out your lert to clean up this mess? ::indicates the blood and vomit on the floor:: <Temire> I was until you told me that. I think I might have preferred it if it had been a hallucination. <Rhys> Of course. Just moment. <Glossaria> ::peers at Temire anxiously:: Did it not work? You're not leaking-- I mean, your bleeding has ceased. * Rhys heads into the kitchen. Faint murmuring can be heard, and then Rhys re-emerges, the lert trailing behind him, a mop and bucket in its hands. "Please, right over there." The lert nods, circles around the bar, and begins cleaning up Temire's bodily fluids. <Zoya> ::frowns at Glossaria:: I just want to know the extent of your capabilities. Why on earth do you keep doing that? * Zoya moves out of the lert's way, thanking it quietly. <Glossaria> ::still cowering:: Doing what? <Temire> Oh, physically I'm feeling better. I'm just not sure if my mind can keep up with all of this. <Zoya> THAT. Acting like I'm going to kick you. <Zoya> ::grins at Temire:: You'll be fine, then. Come on, girl. ::helps her back up into the chair:: Rest for a bit. When I leave, I'll take you to the healers on my way home. * Temire gets into the chair with Zoya's assistance. "Thank you Mistress Zoya." <Zoya> ::grumbles quietly under her breath:: <Glossaria> Oh... ::making a conscious effort to straighten her spine, pushing the hood of her cloak back to reveal a shock of light green hair:: I'm sorry, mistress. It's just that... well... I was afraid you... would... ::trails off and bites her lip:: <Zoya> I would, what? Be angry? Whatever for? ::frowns thoughtfully:: So tell me - how is it that I didn't notice you when I did my tour of the Tower, anyway? <Glossaria> Well... you did. Sort of. The Tower took note of that, too. That's why I was afraid you would be... mad. ::shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot:: <Zoya> ::looks confused again:: I did? I don't suppose you'd like to explain that? <Glossaria> Well, when you visited the library, you said two things the Tower took special note of... <Zoya> ::raises an eyebrow expectantly:: <Glossaria> ::sitting down, back straight, and fiddling with the hem of her ragged jerkin:: You said that the library was in terrible disorder... <Zoya> Yes, that part I remember. <Glossaria> ...and you were dismayed at how... ::swallows hard::... at how worm-eaten the books had gotten. The older books, especially. * Rhys begins to chuckle. <Zoya> Well, yes. The spine was coming right off that one- ::trails off and looks back up at Glossaria's hair:: It didn't. <Glossaria> ::swallowing hard again, looking on the point of tears:: You said you wish there were a way to get rid of the pests that were destroying your library, and.... <Glossaria> And... and... I didn't *MEAN* to hurt your library, mistress, really I didn't! ::bursts into tears:: <Zoya> ::stares, stunned, at the weeping ex-bookworm:: * Zoya stares for a moment longer, then bursts into laughter. * Temire looks at Rhys, "I'm better off not knowing aren't I?" <Rhys> ::still laughing, manages a sort-of nod to Temire:: <Glossaria> ::looks up at Zoya in confusion, blinking through her tears:: * Zoya leans back against the table leg, laughing hysterically. Every time she seems like she's about to get control, she looks at Glossaria's page-torn notebook and bursts into laughter again. * Rhys composes himself, and addresses Glossaria. "Well... can I get you anything, miss?" ::faint smile:: "You've had a rather dry meal of late." <Glossaria> ::swallowing against her tears and trying again:: You... you see, motthe wordum swealg... wait, that's not right... I mean... ::blinks and translates:: moths *eat* words.... and I was *so* hungry, and the books were so *interesting*... * Zoya slowly recovers and stands back up, though a spate of giggles occasionally bursts forth. <Glossaria> ::looks hopefully at Rhys:: Well... eventually I want to try *everything*... but... some red wine might be nice. All the poets write about it so sweetly... * Glossaria looks wistful. <Rhys> Of course. ::fetches a goblet, and a wine bottle. He pours Glossaria a glass of the dusky red.:: Here you are. <Zoya> ::offers Glossaria a hand up from the floor:: I'm not mad at you. You didn't know any better. If you'll promise not to eat any more of the books, we'll see about making sure you get an adequate supply of... Of whatever it is that you need to eat. Copies, or something. <Zoya> You've been working in the library since I moved in? All that time? Why on earth haven't I seen you before this? <Glossaria> Oh, *thank* you, mistress! ::wiping away her tears, and looking at her hand in some surprise:: "I cried crystal tears..." ::shakes her head, coming back to the conversation:: I can copy out everything I... damaged. The words are part of me, now... * Temire examines the rafters, "Why can't my life make sense?" <Zoya> That would be a good start. <Glossaria> ..and yes, I've been working my way through the books, this whole time... ::blushing:: I mean... I've been starting to clean up and put things in order. I needed to eat half of Hugh's Didiscalion to figure out how to put them in order first, though, and the Library is so *huge*, you have no idea...! <Zoya> ::grins at Temire:: sense? You want *sense*? Marry a farmer or a blacksmith and turn peasant. Their lives make sense. But it's damn boring, being sensible all the time. <Zoya> You can't just... *read* the books? You have to eat them? ::makes a mental note to put in an order with the bookbinder's guild for some new blank books, several of spellbook quality...:: * Temire rubs her face with her left hand. "I know, just way to many confusing things have happened to me today. And I really want to know why she eats paper." <Zoya> ::absently, forgetting that Temire wants things to make sense:: Because she's a bookworm. Or used to be, I guess. * Glossaria smiles thanks at Rhys as she picks up the glass and sniffs, eyes widening again. After a moment, she licks her lips and takes a sip, coughing hard and pounding her chest as it goes down. "Oh... quite unexpected... but..."spirit to thicken the blood and rouse the fire of the passions." <Zoya> ::laughs:: We've *got* to get you some better material than that... <Temire> Forget I asked. <Glossaria> Well... ::looks doubtful:: I *can* read them... but I'm still learning, and I was in a rush to get started once I was told what I was to do... <Zoya> ::sighs:: Well, try not to eat any more of them than you have to. Re-writing them is fairly tedious, and I think you'll find that it's a little faster to read them than to eat them and then write them back out again. <Glossaria> ::nods eagerly and holds up her notebook:: I've been starting... I learned to take notes. But I *really* understand the book when I have the chance to digest it. ::looking innocent of any punning:: <Zoya> Yes, well... One thing at a time, please. We'll sit down tonight or tomorrow, and we can talk about how to organize everything, and once it's all organized, then you can devour all the books you like - as long as you're replacing them with copies, of course. <Zoya> And it might be a good idea if you didn't eat any of the magical texts just yet - I'd imagine they might have some unexpected side effects. <Glossaria> Oh, I've started copying out some of the older ones already... Astophenes' _Visions_, Ulfwythr's _Lay of the Wyrm_... I LIKED that one! <Zoya> ::musing:: Astophenes had some incorrect assumptions at the heart of his work, but it's a beautiful example of progressive logic. I don't know that I've ever read more than passages of _Lay_, though. <Glossaria> ::looks chagrined:: Well, I just nibbled a little... I think that's why the Library picked me, of all larv-- um, people. <Zoya> ::grins:: That's all right. I think you'll work out quite well. <Glossaria> ::smiling:: It kinda tingled going down, but I never *imagined* it would do *that*! ::gesturing to Temire, and describing some of the glyphs in the air with her finger:: <Zoya> Well. You've certainly got your work cut out for you. ::finishes off her ale:: Come on, let's go home. ::helps Temire stand:: <Rhys> ::the lert has since finished cleaning up, and has returned to the kitchen:: <Temire> Thank you Mistress Zoya. I think I can make it back to Mistress Yohko's. ::sighs:: But if I needed the escort before, I certainly need it now. <Glossaria> ::smiling brightly and springing eagerly to her feet:: Oh, yes, but I never *imagined* how exciting it all could be! <Zoya> This late, the toughs are even thicker. I'll take you back to Yohko's. * Temire starts limping towards the door, "Thank you again Mistress Zoya." <Zoya> ::tosses a few gold coins to Rhys:: To replace the potions. <Glossaria> Oh! ::whipping her pencil out from behind her ear and bringing the point to hover over an open page:: Do you think we might meet some of them? <Zoya> Good night, Rhys. I certainly *hope* we won't meet any more ruffians. * Temire groans, "I hurt too much for this." <Rhys> ::catches the coins:: I'll make sure they end up in the right hands. <Glossaria> ::smiles over her shoulder and curtseys at Rhys:: Thank you very much for the wine, milord bartender. <Rhys> You're welcome, lady. Have a good evening. * Rhys follows them to the door, and locks it behind them. * Rhys rolls his eyes. "Ancient glyphs. Sheesh. I can't believe they bought it..." Blows out the lamps, and heads back into the kitchen. |
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