Where Ignorance is Bliss…

[Layne]

"Selaneth!"


The strong voice made Nadira pause, even though it wasn't addressed to her. She realized the voice came from the other side of the library. It sounded a bit like the Crown Prince, though she would have never suspected he could sound so forceful. Curiosity made her wander closer, though she kept carefully out of sight as she watched the pair. She wasn't the only one, either - a bunch of people in the library were openly staring, so she really didn't feel guilty. They obviously weren't after privacy, here. She finished up her roll, watching carefully as the woman - whom she assumed was Selaneth - explained that Tak's parents didn't care about mathematics. Well, at least that told Nadira what Selaneth was there for.


She didn't move an inch, her gaze shifting to Tak as he interrupted the woman with news of the fire. Now he was more like what she expected from their brief previous encounter and the way that he acted at lunch. Hesitant, stuttering. It was so bizarre. Even she had better social skills than the Crown Prince, and that was just strange.


She nodded a little as Selaneth pointed out that it wasn't his job and listed things that he really should be doing instead. Before responding, Tak just walked off. Well, that wasn't very kind. Nadira found herself wondering if Selaneth trusted Vintallion and his little manager. She thought on that, looking away from the woman and continuing to walk along.


"Oh!" she exclaimed in surprise as Selaneth addressed her. Well, this was going to be awkward if she knew Nadira had been eavesdropping, wasn't it? She straightened her back and smiled, shaking her head slightly. "No thank you, but I do appreciate the offer," she said simply, then walked after Tak. When she caught up to him, she gently tapped his shoulder and gave him a warm smile.


"Is it too late to take you up on that offer of showing me those books?"

 

[Quill]

* * *

AUTUMN of the FOX, 12TH CENTURY A.E., ATAIRAN KINGDOM

* * *

Kreont smiled indulgently at the swarthy man. Well done, he said. That fire caused quite the uproar. The man couldn't help but show a twinge of satisfaction at the praise and the Master of Whispers gave him a broad smile. My friend here will make sure you keep it up, he said meaningfully, then pressed a few fat coins into the peasant's hand. A thin, stark man to Kreont's right, with glassy gray eyes and greasy white hair, patted the peasant on the shoulder. Remember, at the mill. And no funny business, lad, he said icily before vanishing into the dusky morning shadows of the town. Frost hung in the air, cool and brittle. Now go, Kreont told the man. We'll be watching.

* * *


"Is it too late to take you up on that offer of showing me those books?"

Tak turned too quickly, somewhat like a rabbit staring at an approaching wolf. "I … who … oh." He tried to remember if it was possible she'd been in the entrance room with that pack of other scholars when Selaneth spoke to him, but he couldn't really think. Her smile made him feel so comfortable. The whole frustration of the argument just slid off his shoulders and he managed to smile a little lopsidedly back. "It could be our pleasure," he said glibly, very proud that he'd recalled his early cotillion lessons. Then he froze. Wasn't it my pleasure? But that meant talking about yourself. That was rude. No, no, he had it right. He hoped. Quickly he turned to comb the shelves. Where had they left off? Ah yes! "The Distribution of Shepherding Territories of Ancient Kalme in the Wake of the Silucian Invasion under Kohet Nekama IXI!" Tak declared triumphantly as he extracted the thick tome from a musty corner of a rickety shelf. It had been his very first ancient history book. He'd read it when he was eleven years old and ever since then visited this section of the library daily.

Just then there was a small, swishing sound, like a delicate lady sighing, and Tak stared dumbfounded at the piece of folded parchment that had slipped out from underneath the book, reading: TO PRINCE TAK. He looked up at the pretty young woman but didn't suppose she might be behind this. Maybe a prank from some servant's boy? A letter from Colantis? Selaneth? But it wasn't her style, and the head librarian didn't have that kind of flowery handwriting at all. So what on earth was this?


* * *


"So, my man," Vintallion said smugly to the gray man standing before him. "Who cooperated with our little plan? Was I right?"

Kreont nodded crisply as he handed over a list of names. "Oh, yes. It seems the underground has strong roots in Red Apple. This should be enough to scare the living daylights out of anyone who was having … recalcitrant thoughts."

Vintallion's eyes narrowed at his advisor. "Or it could encourage them."

Kreont shrugged. It was a slow, passive, cat-like movement.

"But the general rabble is frightened enough to give us peace for a few years," Vint said. "I suppose that's worth the bother." He scratched an itch on his jaw idly. "Do you think I overdid it a bit? With the two centuries and all?"

"We'll see," said Kreont. "I have my own arrangements to test where the Ka'baynes' real allegiances lie. Both of them."

"Good!" Vint enthused. "I don't want Tak getting any ideas from some peasant sympathizer."

Kreont nodded sagely. "It is being seen to as we speak."

"Well then," the King Regent said proudly. "Congratulations on yet another successful operation. I think I might have to give you a raise. Now get the servants to bring me some wine, or come imbursement day I'll remember I said that."

At that Kreont could not help but chuckle.

 

[Layne]

Nadira smiled up at the Crown Prince as he took a few moments to recover. It was fine by her, especially since she had probably startled him pretty badly after that conversation he was having with his tutor. She found his crooked smile to be rather endearing, actually. It was too bad that it didn't make an appearance more often - like at lunch, when he reminded her more of a startled deer. She followed after him as he searched the shelves, but they didn't have to go far. He soon pulled out a volume that looked insanely boring as opposed to the rousing story he had been describing earlier. Still, she could tell he was excited about it, so she accepted it from his hands.


"I take it you've read this one before?" she asked in a friendly tone, but then she paused and looked down as he did. There was a piece of paper that had fluttered halfway off the shelf. From her position, she could just barely read it. Prince Tak. That was him. She blinked, then looked up at him right as he looked at her.


"Don't look at me," she said, shaking her head. She hadn't put that there! How could she, anyway? She would never know - or, she suspected, want to know - where this book was. She eyed the paper, then glanced around, but nobody seemed to be watching them. That meant it probably wasn't a secret admirer after the Crown Prince's heart. A mystery, then. She was incredibly curious, but she held her tongue and simply waited to see if he would dismiss her to read it alone. Somehow she doubted it.

 

[Quill]

* * *

WINTER of the SPIDER, 12TH CENTURY A.E., ATAIRAN KINGDOM

* * *

You are so very gentle, dear, the blond woman said to the tall, rotund maid softly plaiting her fair curls. It is an honor to do m'lady's hair, she said. This dinner is a great occasion, and you are so beautiful! The blond woman smiled shakily, and a long, mild silence followed, but then she suddenly grasped her blackhaired companion's hand in an iron grip, knuckles white, tears rimming her dark eyes. I miss my sister, she sobbed. Tess, were you here, if only I could ask what to do! What to say… The maid smiled softly with an almost maternal wisdom. You have enchanted him, she says admiringly. Look at the way he looks at you. He has courted you for a long time now. It's the talk of the whole country. The fair-haired lady pressed her lips together in a thin line. What would my siblings think if he asks me? she asked, and there was mourning in her voice. What if I cannot refuse? The maid laughed merrily. M'lady's anxiety is so sweet, she said consolingly. Do not worry, dear. He is a great man. Noble women have always worried for nights as these, m'dear, but do not worry now. Tonight, you feel with the heart. The noblewoman gazed into the maid's clear eyes and smiled. Thank you for kind words, she said. May they be thrice times returned to you. In her eyes the shadows flickered, and her hand clenched round a stony secret.

* * *


Tak regarded the paper nervously. Obviously the young woman had as little a clue of its nature as he did. What if it was the wrong kind of thing to read aloud in front of a near stranger? And what if he kept the contents to himself and she spread rumors? He gave her another look but she had always been kind to him, and no one he'd ever met had been anything but trustworthy, besides some shady characters among Vintallion's advisors. She was not Vintallion's advisor. He decided, rather on impulse, to trust her. He bent, picked up the slip of parchment that called his name, made a few noises in the back of his throat, and then, rather shakily, read.

"'I…' Ehem. 'I, Lannen … humbly address the … the Crown Prince Tak … beseeching … His Highness to hear me … where official – where official ears do not … stray … at the White Bear inn … in Red Apple…'" His brow furrowed and his tone darkened with every word. Who was this title-less man to hide a rendezvous request in the royal library? It bespoke staggering insolence and audacity, not to mention untrustworthiness. But now his eyes widened and he stared at the paper as if it had grown antlers. He looked up at the Ka'bayne girl in bewilderment. "'…as my memories … of Her Majesty Queen Deirdre Ilusa Vana el-Ateria … blessed be in the Light … may be of especial … especial interest … to … to you….' – He knows my mother's name," he said, sounding almost frightened."Her full name," he said again, incredulously. He knew it. She had known it. His father and his aunt and his uncle had known it. And perhaps a few palace courtiers who had been extremely close to the queen, such as Selaneth. But that was all. And a peasant named Lannen was certainly not supposed to know it. A peasant named Lannen was not supposed to have impeccable, elegant handwriting. All of a sudden he was consumed with urgency. What did this man know about his mother?

"What do you think?" he asked anxiously, pressing the paper into the young woman's hand. Maybe there was some kind of code in the simple words. Maybe a malicious motive wallowed behind an unassuming sentence. "There's not – there's not even a date," he said. "It could be … could be years old." In fact, that was quite likely. He had last read the book it had hidden in nigh seven years ago. Whoever this Lannen was, he would probably not be frequenting the White Bear inn anymore. Unless the letter was recent? Was it even reasonable to hope?

 

[Layne]

Nadira was lost in thought as she watched Tak examining the paper, seeming unable to decide whether he even wanted to read it or not. It was an expression that she understood well. The letter could be anything, from any time. Obviously it was after his birth, of course, but other than that? It could be a random scrap paper with only his name on it - the doodle of a noble girl with fanciful thoughts. Nadira really doubted that, but perhaps. She met his gaze as he looked at her, tilting her head in the slightest. When he looked back down, she paid more attention, listening as he read.


The first sentence made her frown. Lannen was a fairly common peasant name, wasn't it? And she knew that Red Apple wasn't exactly famous for housing nobles and the like. Plus, that's where the fire just was. That inn could be burned down for all she knew. She did not like the lack of a title with the name. There simply had to be one - the elegant scrawl of the Crown Prince's name on the paper told her that much. Most peasants couldn't write, and those that could were uneven and tended to scrunch their letters together hurriedly. She pondered that, confused as to why Lannen would hide his title from the Crown Prince until he looked up at her and she blinked at his startled expression.


"Hmm.." she mused as Tak pointed out that Lannen knew the full name of his mother. Nadira wasn't sure what to say, but then he handed her the paper in her free hand. She examined it, the handwriting making her more certain Lannen was no peasant. So, a noble of some sort with ties to the deceased Queen, wanting to meet in Red Apple. She glanced at the book in her other hand, taking in the thick layer of dust and Tak's mention of the lacking date. But.. the paper wasn't yellowed with age as some documents of her father's were. So, it had to be fairly recent, but how did Lannen know where to put the message? And why hadn't he just sent a message to Tak directly if he was already in the castle? And why would he have information that shouldn't be spoken of here? She wanted to relate this to her unfounded dislike of Vintallion, but she had no reason to.


Damn logic.


"I'm not sure what to think," she said slowly, teetering between whether to act like an idiot noble girl or somebody with common sense. "There are things that don't add up," she finally added, deciding not to mince words with the lost-looking boy.

 

[Quill]

* * *

WINTER of the LYNX, 1127 A.E., ATAIRAN KINGDOM

* * *

The wind howls outside of the large manor house, built of solid mahogany, the floors polished boards and the walls hung with bead-eyed stag heads and rustic paintings. One swings crookedly, and a dark stain slowly pervades the thick red hall carpet. All of a sudden, a large roar shakes through the house: Wife! And again, the call dipping and rising and slurred: Wiiiife! The shouts are in vain. A swarthy man, with a shock of rusty, fair hair and eyes bulging and glassy, alcohol suffusing his breath, lurches up the stairs, calling all the while. Panting and growing more agitated with every empty room he passes, he bangs open doors only to slam them closed again, and finally, impossibly, stands in the very room he began in, swaying and wild-eyed. He starts for the stairs again but takes a different route this time, taking him past a door he did not care to open before. Sneering, he kicks it open, revealing two trembling children. I know you're in here! he shouts. He rips open the wardrobe and tears out piles of clothes, leans nearly too far out the window and starts screaming into the winter air, air coming out in great puffs of frosty white, as he spies the stables: his best horse's stall, agape, the door ajar. Fuming, gnarled hands forming into fists, he faces the sniveling children. WHERE IS SHE?! he bellows, and there is a deep, wrenching ache in the voice. When they do not answer he grabs the young blond girl and shakes her over and over again, his sickly breath hot against her wide eyes. WHERE IS SHE?! Where IS she?! Answer me! The dark-haired boy pushes the girl away and stands protectively in front of her. His face is frozen in terror but his voice, though shaky, remains calm, almost gentle. She's gone. She left. She said she … she said … she wouldn't come back. His voice is hollow and he bows his head and clenches his eyes shut, steeling himself for the blow.

* * *


Tak looked sharply up at the young woman. He'd never been particularly good at adding things up, and she sounded like she wasn't saying everything she was thinking. "What do you think … truly?" he asked, realizing he felt very comfortable speaking with her like this, trusting her implicitly. There was something so straightforward about her. All the courtiers and servants, even his mentors, even what was left of his family – they could be so careful, distant, fake. They could not look him hard in the eyes and speak the truth. Some part of him missed that, almost with regret, as if it had been something that he had a right to and that he had lost. But a great part was also apprehensive and afraid of this unknown. He wanted to be friends with this girl, he realized, and so he would have to put this distrust aside. Today was the day he would make the first real confidante of his life. And slowly, cautiously, as if approaching a dangerous animal, he managed: "You know … if … if you like … of course, if you … well. I mean. He could be gone. But … just in case I … we … think it might … not hurt to, you know, to just see … would you … would you think … maybe … that maybe you'd, like, to, come … to the inn? With me? To see him?" He marveled again at the strangeness of the letter. This Lannen character must really desperately want to see him if he would go to such covert lengths. Inwardly he prayed that he had not left the region long ago, although his reason told him it must be so…

 

[Layne]

"Truly?" Nadira repeated, then sighed. Might as well say something. "The name 'Lannen' is common with peasants, yet no peasant would have handwriting like this. Also, how would a peasant get in here and know where to leave this for you to find? This paper should be yellowed with age or at least faded, judging by the dust on this book, but it isn't. Plus, I was thinking of the fire in Red Apple. Even if Lannen was still there, maybe the tavern isn't. We don't know what burned down yet, do we?" she pointed out, then shrugged a little and handed the note back to him. She was quiet as he slowly stuttered out an invitation to go with him to find Lannen. Though she was amazed he would trust her so much as to ask her something like that, she still felt.. off about it.

"I would love to go with you, but.. what if it isn't what it looks like? What if it's something bad? Everybody around here would recognize you and know who you are. They could be hostile," she said quietly. "If you'd like, I could go alone. No guards, no father. I can go see if Lannen is still around, and then if he is, it'd be a lot more worthwhile for you to go out and speak to him, wouldn't it? What if you went out to find him and he wasn't even there anymore?"