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* Bastian is sitting in a booth, his back to the wall, watching the room carefully as he sips at a small glass of clear liquid. * Catreenia enters the Shield and Tabard dressed rather more plainly than she was the day before in a grey travelling dress trimmed in burgundy that brings out the highlights in her hair. She looks somewhat better rested, though a bit tired, and there's a spring in her step that wasn't there the night before. She carries a pack over her shoulder. <Bastian> ::he smiles his crooked half-smile at her:: My lady, I wasn't sure you'd come... ::stands and bows to her:: <Catreenia> ::smiling back, a sparkle of fire in her eye [not literally]:: We made a bargain, Master Bastian. <Bastian> ::shaking his head, an almost rueful grin playing about his face:: Again, I am in awe of you, my lady. I'd not have insisted. But, in any case, our carriage is ready... <Catreenia> ::smiling a little:: Yes... I noted you didn't "insist" last night, either. I think you underestimate yourself, sir. ::hiking her pack up on her shoulder a little better as she follows him:: <Bastian> My lady... ::escorts her outside to a fairly nice coach:: Off to Arabel... * Catreenia smiles and nods to the coachman as she boosts herself inside with the nimbleness of long practice, tucking her skirts neatly out of the way as she settles in. <Bastian> ::the coachman, a somewhat cranky looking man, nods brusquely:: <Bastian> So... ::rubbing his hands together:: Tell me what we're looking for, in Arabel? <Catreenia> ::his keen eyes would be able to pick out two new rings on her fingers... one a plain, unassuming iron band, and the other a fine lady's ring, gold, with an oval cabochon that seems to shimmer with color, changing shade every so often.:: <Catreenia> ::places her hands carefully on her knees, looking at them thoughtfully:: We're looking for the place of a suicide... one that would have happened... ::pauses to think:: let's see... grandmother was... 7? And she passed away five years ago, at 72... ::thinks:: seventy years? Did I figure right? <Bastian> ::nodding:: All right... suicide in... 1331 or '32... in Arabel, you think? <Catreenia> In Arabel, or just outside... my aunt and uncle live about a league outside, but my family's lived in the general area for a long time. <Bastian> ::nodding:: What... pardon my asking, my lady, but what good will it do you? <Catreenia> ::twines the end of her braid around her finger thoughtfully:: I don't know why I never thought to go about this logically before... I mean, a suicide, surely there will be records. <Catreenia> ::comes out of her reverie and looks at him, biting her lip a little:: Master Bastian... do you know what the term "psionics" refers to? <Bastian> ::nodding briefly:: Yes... ::he smiles briefly:: <Catreenia> ::smiles a little, looking amused:: Would you humor me, and tell me what you know of it? <Bastian> ::steepling his fingers together, he observes her over the tips:: Psionics, the use of mentally tapped internal energies to accomplish tasks, such as levitation and mind-reading. Differing from magic in that it requires no components or prayers, it was recently established as a non-demonic power source by Lady Tyl'gainia Nightshade in 1401. <Catreenia> ::smiling a little wider:: Lady Tyl'gainia Quel'shu, nee Nightstorm, actually. ::nods:: <Bastian> Ah... ::arches his fingers into a bridge before linking them together and tucking his hands behind his neck:: I've not actually met the lady. <Catreenia> Well, until recently... ::a flicker of sorrow touches her eyes as she says "recently":: she was the headmaster of my school, and one of my teachers. ::a little dryly:: So believe me, I've met her *lots* of times. <Bastian> I can imagine... ::kicks his boots up onto the opposite seat:: And you're one of these... psionics? <Catreenia> ::nods:: My strongest talent is in what's known as postcognition... that means that, in certain conditions, I can see the past. Usually when I concentrate. ::making a face:: Sometimes when I don't, where emotions have imprinted history on the landscape a *little* too strongly.... <Bastian> ::raises an eyebrow:: That sounds as if it could... be interesting. <Catreenia> It's... ::takes a deep breath:: Well, it can be a challenge... thank the gods I did better in Shielding this semester... if I start crying and raving and seeing things for no apparent reason, though... I assure you, it's not because I'm crazy. <Bastian> ::laughs:: Believe me, my lady, all things considered, a little bit of seeing things isn't unexpected. <Catreenia> And... ::biting her lip, looking a troubled:: It would probably be a very bad idea to *ever* let me touch your knife. <Bastian> ::draws his blade, admiring the edge:: This? Whose emotions would you read, mine or... well... theirs? <Catreenia> ::shakes her head, eyeing the blade a little fearfully, unconsciously edging a little away from it:: Not just... emotions, although I often feel those, too. History. What it's seen, I see. ::taking in a steadying breath and meeting his eyes:: I'm telling you this, because I don't want any sort of... misunderstanding about it. It's only fair that you know what you travel with. <Bastian> ::resheathes his knife:: All right, that's only fair. You already know what you're traveling with... ::his mouth quirks up into that half-smile:: <Catreenia> That I do. ::smiling a little lopsidedly:: The handsomest rogue I know in Marsember. The *only* rogue I know in Marsember... ::laughs a little:: By the gods, I can just imagine what Master Bluestar would say to the company I'm keeping *now*... ::giggles, putting a hand over her mouth:: <Bastian> ::both eyebrows go up suddenly and Bastian lurches forward, taking her hands quickly:: *BLUESTAR*? Jalavier Bluestar?? <Catreenia> ::blinks, starting back a little in surprise, the flickering ring on her finger turning orange for a moment:: Um... yes, I think so, although no one's ever called him anything but "Master Bluestar." Or "sir." Why, do... do *you* know him? ::looking a little incredulous:: <Bastian> ::laughing, he leans back again:: By reputation only, my lady... <Catreenia> ::blinks:: Reputation? Well, he's a very good teacher, although I'd never tell him that to his face... really strict, but he's fair, too. ::frowns puzzledly:: <Bastian> ::shaking his head:: My secrets are yours for the asking, my lady, but it would be dishonorable to tell you someone else's... <Catreenia> ::looks utterly mystified, but nods:: Fair enough. Although I still don't... oh. Oh. My. ::pales slightly:: <Catreenia> He... does more than tables, doesn't he? <Bastian> ::passes a finger over his lips and mimes throwing something away:: <Catreenia> ::shakes her finger at him playfully:: It's good for you that I don't-- ::she stops suddenly, and her slightly teasing smile slips away from her face like the sun going behind a cloud:: ...oh. <Bastian> ::completes his gesture by twisting his fingers near the corner of his mouth:: Care to tell me what you're thinking, my lady? <Catreenia> ::dully:: I was just going to say, good for you that I don't peek... but I just realized... I really have no idea anymore what I would or wouldn't do, if it suited me... <Bastian> ::grins:: I see what your problem is, my lady... <Catreenia> Mm? ::looks up:: <Bastian> You're slipping... ::holds one hand at an angle, miming with his fingers, a man standing near the top of a hill:: It's a long drop, my lady, and sometimes, it's easy to stumble... and easier still if you fall, or roll... and you're not used to it... <Catreenia> I... ::hesitantly:: I thought I knew myself... what my limits were, what I abided by for *myself*... but... now.... ::shakes her head slowly, looking miserable:: <Catreenia> I did things I never thought I'd do... I'm still not even sure *why*... and... I hurt people-- badly-- and lost the one I cared the *most* about... <Bastian> ::tilts his head:: There's a lot of room, between here and here ::gestures to the top of his "hill" and the bottom:: Maybe you just need to redefine your limits. <Catreenia> But... how? How do I even know what's... what's level ground, and what's a dropoff? How can I be sure of *anything*? * Catreenia brushes angrily at her eyes. <Bastian> ::laughs:: You're asking *me*? Me? My lady... I murder people for money. ::cocks an eyebrow at her:: You... seduced someone else's young man. Somehow you'll excuse me if I fail to be horrified. * Catreenia colors and looks at the floor. <Catreenia> ::after several moments, she looks up again, meeting his eyes:: Alright... then... how did you decide to become an assassin? Was it an accident? Did you *want* to do it? Did you go to school? <Catreenia> ::bites her lip, glancing away:: I mean... that is, if you *want* to tell me... or not, that's okay too.... <Bastian> Me, my lady? ::sighs:: That's a long story... ::pulls a box out from under his seat and removes a bottle of Sembian brandy:: Here, have a drink. <Catreenia> ::raises an amused eyebrow, but accepts the bottle without comment, inspects the label, and nods once before uncorking it and taking a pull.:: <Bastian> I was born in prison. My mother was a noblewoman's lady-in-waiting. The lord of the household had seduced her and when she turned up pregnant, the lady had her arrested and thrown in prison. <Catreenia> But-- ::frowning:: She'd done nothing! <Bastian> ::tilting his head:: Strange, what wealth and power can buy, is it not, my lady? <Catreenia> ::slides down in her seat a little, taking another swallow of brandy:: Nobles... no wonder papa says to leave them to their ways... ::looking a little guilty as she says it:: <Bastian> My father had a noble title, but his finances were... well... lacking. His wife was much older than he, untitled, but wealthy. It was a good match. He needed her family's money. So, he did nothing. <Catreenia> Ahh.. ::nods grimly:: Yes, I see now. ::curiously:: Sorry for interrupting, but-- *you* have wealth and power. Can you have someone put into prison? <Bastian> ::his eyes strangely blank:: Perhaps I could. I certainly know who to speak with, among the Dragons. I would not do it. <Catreenia> ::nods:: I'm sorry. I was only wondering... just how easy it was. <Bastian> ::taking a drink:: My mother's name was Helana... she got involved with some other prisoners who were planning an escape. She was hanged for inciting a riot shortly after my seventh birthday. <Catreenia> ::swallows:: I'm sorry. <Bastian> ::shrugging:: After that, I was turned out into the streets. Prison may not be a wonderful life, but it was warm, reasonably dry, and I was fed. The streets... they were different. <Bastian> A blind street-beggar took pity on me, gave me some protection. I discovered a few weeks later that he wasn't blind at all... <Catreenia> ::narrows her eyes consideringly, studying him:: You're... perhaps ten years older than I... few enough shelters for the street children *then*, if I can remember papa voting on them.... <Bastian> In any case, Blind Piotre was my sponsor into the guild. From them, I was given a home, food, shelter. Trained in whatever I cared to learn. I became a street-thief. I learned fencing and forgery and knife play and reading and philosophy. I speak five languages and when I was seventeen, I visited my father. * Catreenia listens, her eyes wide and attentive. <Bastian> He claimed to have no recollection of my mother... I... reminded him. His wife interrupted my reminisces and I was forced to deal with her much faster than I had planned. She was nearly fifty by that time, and had left him no heirs. <Catreenia> You... killed them both? You have no parents? No more kin? <Bastian> ::sighs:: I had not intended it, my lady. I merely meant to... impose on them to make my fortune... blackmail, you understand. There's no profit to be had in randomly slaughtering the stupid. But it didn't work out that way. <Catreenia> ::her lips twitch involuntarily into a smile, and she murmurs,:: No, for if you slaughtered all the stupid, there'd barely be any left to repopulate the species with.... <Bastian> ::shrugs again:: I fled from my father's home and got to work on forging a background for myself. About three months later, I came back as Bastian Hooke, the bastard son of Lord Hooke and claimed my inheritance. <Catreenia> ::looking impressed:: So... you found a way to claim your name anyway. Without them. Or perhaps "in spite of them" would be better. <Bastian> ::nodding:: I don't particularly like being a noble, so I have a bit of a reputation for being an eccentric. I am seldom at my estates and I have a factor who tends to most of my noble affairs. But, in the last ten years, I have... increased my fortunes by a magnitude of fifty... and not all of it is blood money. Some of my investments have turned out quite well. <Catreenia> ::blinks:: And... they don't ask you... where it came from? Do they know? <Catreenia> The... other money, I mean. ::blushing a little:: <Bastian> My lady... people are very good at ignoring what they do not wish to know. <Catreenia> Hm. ::props her chin on her hand, studying him and smiling:: <Bastian> ::raising an eyebrow at her:: I am glad my poor history has provided you with entertainment, my lady... <Catreenia> ::shakes her head:: Mm... no, I'm sorry... I was... I was just thinking, I don't think I've *ever* met a self-made noble before. <Bastian> ::smiling:: My lady, everything is for sale. If you like, I could purchase a duchy for you by next week. <Catreenia> ::laughs:: No... no thank you. I don't think I'd like to be a duchess. Well... ::grinning:: Perhaps for a week or two, but full-time? ::shakes her head:: I'm happier having only my next paper or exam to worry about. <Bastian> Smart girl... noble titles are a bother... we're all better off without them. Although I suppose I will pass on my estates to my son, should I eventually find time to have one. <Bastian> ::laughing to himself:: If I manage things quite well, I shall end my life with the ultimate irony be being accused of my crimes by my own son and hanged for them. ::raises his glass in a toast:: <Catreenia> ::delighted grin:: And what sort of woman would you marry? Another titled noble? Or would you raise up a woman of the people? Or... perhaps you don't intend to marry at all... let your mistress' progeny fight it out and pick one. <Bastian> ::with an expression of extreme self-mockery:: A sad goal, my lady. I should like very much to have a wife that I could both respect and trust. Not something I think is at all likely. <Catreenia> No? ::a touch of fire in her expression again as she straightens up:: You don't think you can respect women? <Bastian> ::blinks:: You mistake me, my lady. I respect many women, most of whom I would not trust for a half-second. Likewise, I trust many women, whom I sadly, cannot hold in esteem. <Catreenia> ::cocking her head:: Why not both? <Bastian> ::shrugs:: My closest friends are thieves and murderers and spies. We are not above nudging each other out, for a little social climbing, amongst our own. As my position is very close... you can see where I must be careful to whom I entrust my life. <Cat> ::cocks her head, studying him, a slow smile spreading across her lips:: Lord Bastian... I think you need to get out more. <Bastian> Perhaps... ::smiles at her, refilling his glass:: * Cat gestures for the bottle, taking another swallow of brandy and patting her lips dry genteelly. <Cat> *Definitely* better than shoe polish. ::eyes twinkling:: <Bastian> ::steepling his fingers again:: So, I am curious, my lady... I find myself in an interesting situation. I have placed my life and my secrets in your hands. What do you think would make me do such a thing? <Cat> ::looking startled:: Not I! I swear, I have no talent to compel. I might try to peek, but even then... ::shakes her head:: I'd get little better than surface impressions, random thoughts... <Bastian> ::laughs:: No, my lady... I'm not afraid of you, or your talents. ::takes her hand, kissing the tips of her fingers:: I think we shall have a grand time... <Cat> ::relaxing a little:: Good. Because, I think, if you were afraid of me... I'd have cause to fear *you.* ::smiling at him sidelong from under her lashes as he kisses her fingertips:: As it is, I think we should get along quite famously. |
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