It's early the next morning. The sun has yet to crest the low hills to the east as Rastellion strolls up the walk to Zandrianna's house, trying to ignore the grumbles of his stomach. He promises himself a cup of coffee and fresh sweet-roll at the corner stall in the Traders' Quarter. He pauses on the stoop and knocks lightly, unsure if anyone is up yet... though, from the activity in the coop behind him, it seems that the chickens have already been fed.
Pushing her hair back, Zandrianna opens the door and looks bleary eyed at Rastellion, her coffee in hand as she nods. "Rastellion," she says, "Come in."
Smiling tentatively, he follows her inside. "I hope I'm not disturbing you ... I'm just on my way into town for those meetings today, so I can't stay long. I just wondered... is Immalaine okay? She was supposed to stop by last night, while I was drafting those pages for Fiontann." His stomach gurgles again at the smell of Zandrianna's aromatic coffee, but he ignores it.
Heading back to her desk, she darts her eyes over to the bedroom where Immalaine and Althessia slept. "I ...." she pauses, as she sits down. "To be honest, I've not seen her since she went racing off this morning. Something about some errand she needed to run." Rubbing her eyes, she looks up at Rastellion. "She was supposed to stop by, you said?" She tilts her head up as she asks, confused.
Rastellion shakes his head. "Well, no matter. You had a full house last night, I hear. Must have slipped her mind." He looks around, seeing the signs of that gathering, then back at the woman. " Zandrianna, are you okay? You look a bit pale." He touches her elbow, turning her back toward her chair.
Sighing, Zandrianna nods. "Didn't get much sleep last night. Too much paperwork and then I spent most of the night up, talking to Immalaine about ... stuff," she says evasively, not meeting Rastellion's eye as she sits down and takes a long drink of her coffee. "But I'll be fine, I'll get some sleep after I get the supplies paperwork sorted."
''Oh, Immalaine was up late?” Rastellion blinks. “Well, must be the frustration about her property, distracting her. Damn bureaucrats. But we'll get that corrected; there's still enough time to get that last signature."
Breathing in relief, Zandrianna quickly agrees with him, staring down at the desk with a blank expression, her usually sparkling eyes flat. "I know you will," she says, setting the mug aside, before reaching up to wipe her forehead with her sleeve. "Besides, you know how women get sometimes." She looks up at him, giving him a wan smile.
Rastellion looks uncertain. "Um, I suppose.... She's not unwell, is she?"
Giving him an ambiguous look, Zandrianna shook her head. "Not that I know of, no. A bit more distracted than usual." Zandrianna turns and looks down at the map she'd shown Desiare that evening, as they'd planned out the younger woman's assignment. "Still, maybe she'll return soon, if you have a moment to wait? There's more coffee," she offers, looking down at her almost empty mug.
"No, I've those meetings today ... trying to secure us more reliable space on the caravans heading east. I can get something in town... If you're sure she's okay, that is."
Pursing her lips, Zandrianna looks down at the table, tapping it with her finger. Torn between keeping her word to Immalaine and confiding what the young woman had shared, Zandrianna pauses for a long moment before answering. "Yes ... she's fine. She just has a lot to think about." she finally says.
Rastellion purses his lips, sensing there's something Zandrianna isn't telling him - doesn't want to tell him? Some secret? "Well, we're both frustrated about this signature issue, that's for sure. But, really, it's just a bit of a delay."
Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Zandrianna seemed to turn pale as she quickly nodded. "I'm sure it is," she agrees all to quickly, getting up to head to the kitchen for more coffee. "You sure you won't have a cup? I've an interesting map to show you," she says, abruptly changing the conversation. Her head throbbing from the lack of sleep and the stress of keeping Immalaine's confidence and, as she reaches to pour her coffee, her hand visibly shakes, almost missing the mug entirely.
Rastellion frowns after her, but not as if seeing her fatigue. "Zandrianna... is there something else going on? Something wrong with Immalaine - more than just this discovery about the signatures?"
Something flickers in her eye for a moment - fear? guilt? - but she quickly masks it and waves her hand. "Like I said, she's got a lot to think about. Don't worry about it." she replies, her voice ending in a note of frustration, as she turns away from him.
Rastellion opens his mouth to press her, then just shakes his head. "Well... if you say so..." He glances toward the morning light beginning to warm the windows. "Besides, I'd best be heading into town." He forces a smile. "Tardiness isn't pleased among potential trading associates..."
Staring out the window herself, Zandrianna squares her shoulders, nodding. "As I well know, from the last couple of meetings I've had. I ..." she pauses, the throbbing in her head growing, "I'll talk to you later then, about the contract with Fiontann." She takes a deep drink of her coffee, before turning back to Rastellion. Taking a step to give him a hug, she pauses then nods.
Rastellion taps at his satchel. "I've got the papers for him right here - I finished them up last night. I'll see that they’re signed today, before he leaves, and bring back the copy for our files." He takes a deep breath. "Well, time's a-wasting." He returns her quick embrace, then heads outside and off toward the town's main gate, frowning as he walks, oblivious now to the fresh air and clear light of the winter's day.
"Wonder what's bothering her," he mutters to himself as he walks through Bree's outskirts and the bustle of the morning markets. "Can't be the signature." He shakes his head. "Wonder why she hasn't talked to me about ... about whatever it is that's bothering her." He watches his boots, picking a way through the previous day's light snowfall. "Could it be us? No, she'd have said something, wouldn't she?" He takes a deep breath. "Well, I can ask her tonight, when I see her." Reassuring himself in this way, he continues on toward Bree.
Meanwhile – In Breetown
Heading down the hill, Immalaine shakes her head as she smiles, though her eyes are tired from lack of sleep. After stopping in at the Pony to order supplies for the trip, she'd stopped by the trading house to see Rastellion, only to find it still closed. Ruefully, she realized it was still to early for most merchants.
She remembers how, falling asleep unexpectedly, she never brought him the dinner she promised, and abruptly decides to head back to Zandrianna's house to fix him a basket, by way of apology. Perhaps even change into one of his favorite dresses, she thinks.
Looking up at the morning sky, she stops to watch the sun finish rising over the horizon and decides that Rastellion was right. It was just a little delay after all, one that could be fixed. Taking a deep breath, she begins walking again, her mind filled with what she had to do to get ready for the next day's travel back to her village.
The tall stranger lounges against a tree, cleaning under his manicured nails with a short, glinting dagger. He looks up as Immalaine comes into view and pauses under the archway, looking up at the sky. A cold smile touches his lips - but not his eyes, which remain flat and grey, like a lowering sky. He waits as a farmer's wagon trundles by over the rough cobbles, then pushes off from the tree and saunters up toward the girl, those eyes fixed on her.
Thinking of the packing she needed to do, Immalaine barely glances up at first, her eyes scarcely taking notice of the man, assuming he was going to pass her. As she felt the first drops of rain, she looked up to the sky to ponder the luck of it ... and froze, as her mind finally registered who she'd seen. Turning, she looked over at him, her mouth open in shock, looking around for anyone nearby, but the streets were nearly empty of life at the early hour, and she saw no one except herself and the man.
His smile curls more as he sees her obvious terror as he approaches. "Well hello... little girl." He shakes his head, as if disappointed. "Didn't I tell you the last time?... you can't run away from me." He reaches out and fingers the material of her dress' collar. "And look at you now, pretending to be all grown up. Pretending to be a good girl are you?" He puffs out a breath, in amusement... then his cold eyes fix on hers. "But I still found you."
Shaking her head, she tries to take a step away, her feet refusing to move as he locked eyes with her. "Go away ..." she whispers, her voice trembling. "I am a good girl." She lifts her chin in an attempt to look more sure than she feels, her eyes flinching at his icy stare.
"There were a few things you were getting good at. Perhaps." He steps closer, inches from her now. "We can talk about that later. But first..." He pauses, a slight frown darkening his face for a moment. "But I do not care to talk in the rain." He gesture to his right, toward a covered portico, with the dagger that's still in his hand. "Move," he orders, the tone peremptory with the expectation of immediate obedience.
Looking over to where he had pointed, Immalaine finds herself obeying him out of habit. She ducks under the building’s overhang, shaking from fear and the wetness of her dress from the rain. Stopping, she turns back to look at him, her eyes darting to the dagger in his hand, before wrapping her arms around herself protectively.
The dark-haired man follows her, half a step behind, to the shelter of the low roof. When she turns, he continues toward her, forcing her to retreat until her back is up against the building's field-stone wall. "Much better," he says, then fixes her with his flat stare again. "But no smiles? Aren't you glad to see me?" There's no levity in his expression, though his tone remains light and easy.
Shaking her head, she looks back at him as she backs up, stopped by the wall behind her. "I ... no ..." she said, her voice barely a whisper above the rain. "Why are ye here?" she asks, gripping the stone behind her with her hands, as her pulse raced.
His teeth flash like the edge of his dagger. "Why I was looking for you..." He pauses, savoring her expression, then continues, "You see, there's a certain property I've had my eye on, for when the mayor's office puts it up to auction. Imagine my surprise when, not long ago, I saw some trespassers on that property ... and one of them with familiar features...”
Her eyes widen, as she listens to him talk, realizing that he meant her family home. Pushing her damp hair away from her face, she stared at him, a spark of anger flashing behind the fear, though her eyes darting back down to his hand again, shuddering, a memory flashing across her mind. "My home ye mean." she replies back, looking around her for a way to escape.
He shakes his head. "Your home? No no... That farm's going to be mine. Bought as abandoned land form the authorities off Bree. I have it all planned out." He suddenly slams his left hand against the wall to her right, which also blocks her way toward the road. "And then you show up, complicating it with this affidavit of yours - oh yes, I know all about that." He leans in closer and says, in a low voice but one touched with anger: "This will not do."
Feeling his hand hit the wall near her, Immalaine jumps and makes a small sound in the back of her throat. "What .... what do ye want?" she asks, stuttering, her skin crawling from his closeness to her.
His thin smile is humorless. "Why, simple." His tone turns cold, insistent. "Forget this business of an affidavit. Leave the property to come up for auction.... Walk away from it... and then maybe I'll let you walk away too." He meets her eyes with his flat stare. "Maybe."
Staring up at his cold expression, Immalaine takes a breath, blinking as she willed him to go away. She shakes her head. "I ... I can't do ... that. I won't ..." she starts, lifting her chin to him, her voice wavering. "Why ... what would ye want wit' it anyways?"
His voice turn hard and his fist clenches where he leans against the wall. "Questions? You've formed some bad habits, little girl. Very bad.... It makes no matter what I mean to do with it. I want it... So you will stop seeking that third signature you still need." His eyes glint as he reveals that he's well acquainted with her affairs.
Her eyes stare at him in shock, as he rattles off the details of her situation casually. "How ..." she started to ask, then closed her mouth at the stare he gave her. "I ... can't just not do it." she said to him. "Ra ... people," she quickly amended, "Are 'xpecting me to, I can't just ..."
He narrows his eyes at her. "Oh, is this about that boy I saw you with? Don't want to disappoint him, is that it?" He leans in a bit closer, and asks, in a silken whisper, "And does he know how you used to try so hard not to disappoint me, little girl? All the things we used to do?"
Her body goes rigid as he leans in, a small strangled sound escapes her mouth as he speaks. "No ..." she says, her voice cracking as she tries her hardest not to cry. "No ... he ... he doesn't." Feeling the cold stone dig into her back, she shifts, only to find herself too close to him, increasing her feeling of entrapment.
Now his smile does spread. "Haven't told your sweetheart what you used to do, is that it?" He takes another step toward her, and brings his dagger up between them. He runs it along to the neck of Immalaine's dress, lifting one of the ties with the point. "Well, let me give you a little incentive then. You let that property go to auction, uncontested … or I shall find this boy of yours and tell him all about all the lovely times we shared... all the ways you learned to please me. Do you think he'd like to hear about that? Think he'd want to lie with you after he learned what you really are?" The razor-sharp edge of the knife slices the dress' ties at her neck as he steps back slightly to study her reaction to this threat, pleased at the terror blossoming in her eyes.
"No!" she says, her voice low and filled with fear as she looks at his cold eyes, not even noticing the damage to her dress. "Ye can't ... please ... not ...." she shakes her head, near tears. "Please ... I'll do whatever ... ye say ... but please don't tell ... him!"
He nods, corner of his mouth lifting. "Well then, we understand each other... And now you know what I want. Take care of it... or I'll just go have a pleasant talk with that boy of yours." Then he pushes right up against her. "Be seeing you, little girl" he whispers in her ear, voice hard, before he steps away and back out into the street.
(Credits and love go to Rastellion, who provided the voice of the male characters in this story. *Blows kisses to Rastellion and grins widely*)
