Home |
It was, perhaps, about an hour after sunrise when Tyl awoke. Given her somewhat nocturnal habits, she was a bit surprised at the angle of light into her bedroom. Jelarthna was, as usual, in the Reverie sitting in his favorite chair. A few months previous, Tyl had brought the chair into her bedroom, as before she had done so, Jelarthna would leave her bed after she fell asleep and go sit in the hallway in the chair. Spending most of her formative and adult life amongst humans, Tyl herself had gotten out of the habit of Reverie unless she really did not have time for a night's sleep. Because of this, she had found it to be extremely disconcerting to wake in the late morning to find Jelarthna no longer in her bed. His many disappearances had conditioned her to look for him first thing in the morning, even if it was no more than reaching out with her mind to find his. She smiled at him as he stared blankly off into nothingness, lost in his past for at least another hour or so, if she knew him correctly. She attributed her own late morning/early afternoon lifestyle to years of thievery. She was not sure where Jelarthna had developed his own late rising habits. She had meant to ask him, but something always distracted her. Of course, now they would have the rest of their lives to find out all about each other. She smiled at her new husband, then decided as long as she was awake, she may as well eat. "Jacques!" she called out as she wrapped herself in her lounging robe. She was usually not at all adverse to walking around in her house without clothing, something which frequently disturbed the upright and proper Jacques, the only one of her grandfather's servants she had allowed to stay on when she inherited. However, at least this morning, there were several wedding guests who had stayed overnight in the mansion, and Tyl felt it would not entirely be appropriate to walk in on some unsuspecting guest in her altogether. She wandered down the richly decorated corridors, barely glancing at the old elvish paintings. "Jacques," she called again. Damnit, where is that man? she thought. She stuck her head into the dining hall, noting that several dishes were still out. Absently dishing herself a bowl of cold mushroom soup, she noticed that Codex, who had performed such a beautiful ceremony the evening before, was passed out cold under the punch table. Tyl stifled a laugh, noting the small stone cup near one outstretched hand. "Lisl, you wicked thing, you," she took a tablecloth from one of the small eating tables and tucked it over the white-haired priest of Mystra. "Madam?" Jacques said. "Ah, Jacques, where have you been?" Tyl turned to look at the old butler. "There is a gift for you, madam," Jacques said in his deep, patient voice that always, somehow, made Tyl feel like a scolded child even when she had done nothing wrong. "Yes?" she said, looking at him. Jacques handed her a single white rose, a small card attached. Tyl smiled at the flower, then read the card, her smile dropping off her face like rain water running down a window pane. Wordlessly, Jacques pointed out the front door, where Tyl saw thousands of white roses across the lawn, leading to the front door. She dropped the note to the floor, a single tear running down her face. She stared for a moment, then fled back to her bedroom, where she threw herself face down onto the bed and practically screamed with grief and frustration. Jacques, hearing his mistress's cries, picked up the card and peered at it. My love, One rose for each day that you will not be mine. Love always, Baronette Loraan. The pale light of false dawn insinuated itself under Zoya's eyelids, waking her. She yawned and stretched luxuriously, then climbed out of bed, being careful not to wake Marten, who was sprawled across half the wide bed in a deep slumber. She grinned fondly at him as she pulled on her bedrobe, then picked up her silver bridesmaid dress from the floor (where he had negligently tossed it the night before) and hung it in her wardrobe. She ran her hands through her hair, fingers snagging on the remnants of the elaborate coif she'd worn for Tyl and Jelarthna's wedding, and padded quietly out of her rooms and down the stairs. No one else was likely to be awake, but for as long as she could remember Zoya had woken automatically in the hour before dawn - it would take much more than a busy few days to break her of that habit. Besides, she enjoyed being outdoors to greet the rising sun, watching the velvety grey of the pre-dawn morning suddenly bloom into color. Attuned to her habits, the Tower's Staff brought her a cup of hot tea before she even asked. She took a careful sip, then opened the Tower door... and nearly dropped her teacup in shock. Sprawled across most of the Tower's front lawn was an enormous carcass. {Fifty feet if it's an inch,} whispered her ever-analytical brain. And then, crazily, {Marten's going to be furious about those bushes...} Zoya blinked. The carcass was still on her lawn. And starting to smell. With almost exaggerated care, she set the teacup down and walked all the way around it, shaking her head with amazement. It was a *space* whale - could be extremely useful and valuable if she could get it prepared before it went bad... But who on earth would dump a whale on her front lawn? And a *space* whale, at that? As she neared the tail, she saw an enormous red ribbon tied to it and went closer to investigate. There was a *note*, of all things, attached to the ribbon. Cautiously, she opened the envelope. It took her a few seconds to recognize the alphabet: gnomish. "With the greatest of appreciation and understanding of value of services rendered (c.f. the checking of the latest rampage and subsequent termination of Krippso'om, Hive Mother to Beholders and convicted war criminal), we of the Gnomish Alliance Imperial Navy do wish to express our gratitude and hope you will accept this testimonial to our thankfulness. Have you any need our assistance may fulfill, we beg you to call upon us and/or invoke our name among our brethren who may recognize it, and we hope that it will please you at some time in the future to call upon us by way of a social visitation that we may exchange pleasantries, stories, narrations, tales, and anecdotes." Zoya laughed. "A thank-you gift for helping to kill Krippso'om. How lovely." She looked from one end of the whale to the other, then glanced up at the sky. It was going to be a sunny day - she had better do something soon, before it started to spoil. Still chuckling, she summoned the Staff to begin the butchering process and went to collect her wand of ice. |
|
|