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<Niralan> ::the Abbot in charge of the monk's tower is extremely unwilling to allow Tarri within the cold stone confines, even at the direct request of the Hall of Healers, although he eventually agrees on certain conditions. Tarri must wear a hooded monk's robe and speak to no one else but Niralan. She will be granted one hour only to speak with the "terribly ill young man" and is reminded several times not to agitate him unnecessarily.:: * Tarri agrees to the conditions, soberly promising that she has no wish at all to interfere with anyone's healing. She looks like a waif playing dress-up in the large robe they loan her for the interview. <Abbot> ::the abbot escorts her up to Niralan's cell and cell is a good description for it. The door is kept locked and barred and the young man inside looks as if he's spent months without seeing the sun:: You have one hour. I will return for you then. If you wish to leave before, knock on the door. <Tarri> Yes sir. Thank you, sir. <Niralan> ::as the abbot closes the door, the robed young man on the straw-stuffed cot looks up. There are deep circles under his eyes and a kind of unsatisfied hunger in his expression:: Who are you? * Tarri glances back at the door, then sits carefully on the floor. "My name is Tarri. I'm a healer." She sounds slightly breathless as she says this, but perhaps that is because of the climb through the tower to Niralan's cell. <Niralan> ::leans forward slightly:: And have you come to *heal* me? You? A woman? <Tarri> That depends on what your injury is, Master Niralan. <Niralan> ::lays back on the cot and stares at the ceiling, his arms hooked under his head:: Go away. I'm not interested in being healed today. <Tarri> Why not? <Niralan> Oh, stop it. There's nothing wrong with me that getting out of here won't cure. ::he laughs bitterly:: <Tarri> ::shrugs:: All right. Why are they keeping you here, anyway? This looks more like a jail than a sickroom. <Niralan> Observant, aren't you? ::he glances at her:: Tell him to go away and stop bothering me. <Tarri> ::blinks genuinely confused:: Who? <Niralan> Oh, do credit me with a modicum of intelligence. I *am* a wizard, after all. Those stick-up-their-backsides monks think I'm a danger to anything female. You wouldn't be here without his *express* permission. Tell him to go away and let me rot here in peace. <Tarri> The- the Abbot? <Niralan> Oh, you are good... ::he laughs again and sits up:: Push the hood back and let me look at you, if you're going to continue this farce. <Tarri> ::hesitates, then pulls the hood away from her face. She looks Niralan in the eye calmly:: *Are* you a danger to women, Master Niralan? <Niralan> ::small beads of sweat form on his upper lip and around his temples:: Probably. <Tarri> If it's not the Abbot you were talking about, then who is it? I'm not a wizard, Master Niralan, but I am neither stupid, nor dishonest. <Niralan> How can I trust you? ::his breathing is quickening and his face grows flushed:: I have nothing left to lose. If I am to be honest with you, you have to first be honest with me. Only innocent people can afford to tell lies. ::he stands suddenly and whirls, facing away from her, putting his head against the cold stone walls:: <Tarri> ::watches him in silence for a moment:: It seems to me... What would it take, to gain your trust? <Niralan> ::he is shaking:: Why are you here? Who are you, really? <Tarri> Really, Master Niralan, I'm a healer- Well, a healer-in-training. I'm here because a friend asked me to come, to find out if you were being used against your will. <Niralan> ::almost inaudible:: What friend? <Tarri> ::glances quickly at the door, as if gauging the distance:: Zoya Natovna. * Niralan turns quickly and crosses the room in two strides, grasping her wrist. He pulls her close and stares in her eyes as if trying to read her mind. "You mean that? He doesn't have something on you?" <Tarri> ::Her eyes widen with startlement, or maybe fear, as he advances, but then frown with irritation:: He, WHO? <Niralan> ::tucks his face against her neck and inhales deeply:: I can smell you... like apples and butter and herbs. ::he coughs and pulls away from her abruptly:: Don't you know I can't say? I... *can't*. ::his eyes dart at the door in fear:: I'm sorry, I... don't mean to hurt you. <Tarri> ::frowning:: You're annoying me, not hurting me. Let go of my arm, Master Niralan. ::her eyes narrow suddenly as she examines his face:: You can't say- You mean that literally, don't you? * Niralan releases her arm and twines his hands together frantically. "He sends them to me, dreams and smoke and... I try, I try, but I can't fight... so tired." <Tarri> ::pales suddenly and leans back against the wall for support:: Oh, Blessed Mother... * Niralan drops himself graceless back onto his cot. "I don't think... it was supposed to be like this. Not like this. Not this. Experiment. Too much, too strong. Not subtle, not like... " He looks at her, then his face twists in almost agony. "Take your clothes off." He leers at her, his hands curling suggestively. <Tarri> ::firmly:: No. Stop it. Snap out of it! Master Niralan, you have to give me some hint! Lady Natovna, Lady Nacheyla - they'll help you, but I have to be able to tell them what they're fighting! <Niralan> Come here... sit with me. It's easier when I'm not trying so hard... ::he pats the cot:: I need to get out of here. <Tarri> ::stays by the wall and pulls her hood back over her head:: I can see that. Who sends the dreams, Master Niralan? Give me a clue! <Niralan> ::looks hurt:: Don't be like that, pretty. I can't... can't help it. I volunteered, great honor to work with him... then, everything went wrong. Compulsion... just want to watch, just ... need it. Not what he wanted. Told me he was trying to reverse the effects. <Tarri> I know you can't help it, but I'm not going to help you give in to it, either. Tell me about the Meade Hall, Master Niralan. <Niralan> He lied. Wouldn't see me. I tried to continue my work and it just got... harder. ::groans:: Come here, come here, come here. ::he buries his face in his hands:: It clings to me, the magic. Set off the wild surge. I didn't hurt anyone... I didn't... <Tarri> ::soothingly:: I know you didn't, Master Niralan. Don't the priests here know it's a spell? <Niralan> ::tonelessly:: They think I'm ill... that I need spiritual guidance. ::croons softly:: I know, I know what he did... hates them, he hates them. Humiliate him? Won't rest 'til the doors are closed and barred. Burn it down, drive them out. <Tarri> The- The Hall? Burn down the Meade Hall? Because they humiliated him? ::bites her lip:: What did he do? <Niralan> ::eyes the door:: Come here. Please. It hurts... too dangerous to face directly... compulsion. Stories. Everyone hears stories, but... compelled to believe. Spreads like a plague, first you, then your sister, then the neighborhood. <Tarri> I know it hurts, Master Niralan, but I can't- ::she pulls one arm inside the monk's robe sleeve, to get to her regular clothes, then pulls out a small, stoppered bottle. She tosses it onto the cot:: That's all I can do for you, Master Niralan. No magic. Herbs. It'll make you sleep. I don't know if it will keep the dreams away. It works, usually, but I don't know about magical dreams. But it's all I can do right now. <Niralan> ::takes the bottle and clasps it tightly:: What will they do, when the mobs come? Will they fight and kill the people of Marsember? Inoculate them... will they burn the place to the ground and hang them all? <Tarri> They'll find him first, Master Niralan. They're good people. They'll find him and break the spell. They'll help you. I- Lady Natovna *sent* me, Master Niralan. She knows something is wrong. <Niralan> ::softly:: Go. Please go. I can't... I can *smell* you... ::he shudders and groans:: Go. Go now! <Tarri> ::nods and knocks on the door rapidly, hard:: I- I'm sorry, Master Niralan. <Niralan> ::the monk who lets her out is not the abbot and refuses to speak as he escorts her firmly from the tower:: * Tarri asks the silent monk to convey her thanks to the abbot. She leaves the temple and walks three blocks very quickly before leaning against the side of a building, in a quiet alley, and giving in to the shudders. Finally, she draws a deep breath, straightens her shoulders, and heads for the Tower, at a run. |
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