* * *
Gerald
* * *
Alright, after some quiet introspection, I have to admit: this is the dumbest idea I've ever come up with in my entire life, and that includes the fortress I built when I was five that almost suffocated both me and my brother. This is that clever.
If Jhe h'Logos were in any way conscious, I think he'd be proud.
* * *
Elam
* * *
There is both too much and too little for me to do.
I look at the state of the Hall and I am overwhelmed. On the one hand, so much has been done since I've left. These Shenanigans, for instance - what a marvelous invention. Truly useful in the way that only my Father can design something to be 'useful'. On the other hand, well...
Well, there's Father.
Lying on his bed, won't move at all, won't even respond to a mental probe. I admit the probe was tentative - I'm still afraid of whether I'm 'tainted' from my experience at Lyiannethe Manor like Elric is. I don't remember anything being done to me... but we were being kept by someone whose master controls oblivion. It's easy for certain things to be made to be forgotten, isn't it? If you're Nul... if you work for Nul...
Fuck it, I can't stop dwelling on Edward. I'm infuriated at him, even now. I thought I'd made myself get over how he treated us long ago, as a way to cope. Now it seems I've been stuffing it all down. And now it's all coming back to me, just how depraved he was and what depraved things he made us do with our Poetry, and I look at my Father and I just think: my Father trusted Edward. Trusted him with his life.
I hold my Father's hand in mine and try to remind myself that Edward's treachery has nothing to do with Father's condition. Nothing can be proven, after all. But I wonder.
I wonder just how much Edward could have done.
And now it seems there's my Uncle jailed in the Armed Hall - Jhe o'Audiva Rocale. He never did like me... never did dislike me, either. Father never liked him, though. Bad blood between brothers. Ill luck. And now both have been felled.
I look at Father's face. He's unconscious, but he still looks... wistful. Not as if he's in pain... just as if he wants to do things. Wants to rise up and get it all done, even when he's unconscious.
I can't get it all done. I'm not at all like Father when it comes to leadership. I'm at home with my books and the archives. I'd happily dive into them now and be forgotten again - sometimes it seemed it'd be weeks before I had to look at another person, lost in the stacks. It's not responsible, though. What if, when I'm losing myself in our maze of a library, Father...
Well, what if something happens to Father?
I stroke a shenanigan and try not to think any further about that. I try to think of what to do - Stevane is explaining things she found while with the Kommissar to the Judge, the others are reporting what they can, and we've had Poets and Armed in and out making sure everyone's looked after. There's a lot of concern about Elric - who knows when, or if, he'll speak again? And a million and one other things have been happening while we were gone, and no one understands what Haari'se is saying and half the people that see her have to be cautioned not to immediately attack her, and what do I do? What can I do? I'm a bookbrain; I belong in the stacks. But I want to be useful. I want so very much to be useful right now.
The shenanigans in my lap look up. One squeaks. I check to see what's got their attention, and then something knocks me on the head and everything goes black.
Typical. Serves me right for asking.
* * *
Lyric
* * *
I am trying to help. I say that to myself yet another time, then take a deep breath and repeat:
"I tried to gain Thelea's trust from the beginning to protect both my sister and myself from harm." My eyes flick up to Gerude's. "It worked, didn't it?" Unvoiced is the additional question: 'So, what's the problem?'
I don't think I'll get a nice answer for that one if I pose it.
Gerude glares at me for just a moment before burying his face into his palm and ruffling his curly bangs away from his eyes. He really needs a trim, and maybe a cream for his face - the freckles are cute, but they clash so much with the clothing he tends towards. Really, Erynn knows about this fashion stuff - why doesn't he get Gerude onto a better track? And yes, this is off the subject, but it's nice to distract myself from the matter at hand: my Father is having Gerude interrogate me while Erynn records it all, and Erynn's recording in itself is prying at me, making me want to give up secrets that I swear I hadn't been keeping.
I don't understand. I'm not a criminal. Not anymore - I was pardoned at the Trial, and now I'm a free man. Now I'm doing what's best for Radia and for my family, most especially. I've done what I can to protect my sister and anyone else that was within my power to protect, and I put myself in a lot of danger to do so. Why doesn't anyone trust me?
"And the way you did that was...?" Erynn prompts me. He looks back down at his transcription, mouthing words as he scans over them with the feather-end of his quill. He curses when he smears a word, mops up a blot of ink with his sleeve, and then grins sheepishly at my brother. My brother's glare has a particular pout when it's focused on Erynn - as if he's so tired of doing it that he wonders if he should give it up from now on.
I fold my hands in my lap and keep my posture proper. It calms me. I do wish we had some tea here; it'd be a balm for my nerves. "I convinced her and Edward that I was a traitor to Radia from the get-go, and I was only waiting for a chance to give my family the slip and go to Lyiannethe proper to work for the Audivan side. Really, it's quite silly, but she was so distracted by Edward's jealousy that it worked." I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "I also have quite a bit of charm when facing the high-bred, and I knew most of the proper mannerisms from my job working for Jhe o'Audiva Rocale. It's really quite lucky--"
"Right. You saved the day with your courtly appearance and passed Stevane on to the Kommissar, where you knew she'd be quite safe." Gerude's tone is its own death sentence.
I frown. "He took Stevane from the start. Well, not from the start per se - Stevane ignited the carriage on the way to Lyiannethe, and when we took to the horses, the Kommissar grabbed Stevane and Miss Thelea took me on her steed. I don't really know what happened between the Kommissar and my sister, but I'm actually quite glad she ended up where she did - I think if she were put with the Poets, things might have turned out badly between her and Miss Thelea, who seemed to have a grudge against her." I shrug. "But who's to say? In any case, I'm sure Father's getting the full story on that now."
"And the full story on how you two ended up in a carriage bolting towards Lyiannethe in the first place." Gerude's so angry. I can tell because he sounds as calm as Father can be. I almost get the same cold stony feeling in my gut from when Father takes that tone.
"Look, it's strange to me too. Jhe h'Logos sent us out to see to Katherine, and then she wasn't there and they were, and well..." I shrug. "I got hit on the head then, and after that I remember waking up in the carriage with an aching head, and then, well..." I sigh. "Foosh. You know Stevane's handywork. She's efficient."
"Indeed I do." Gerude's jaw is set firm. I swear he's trying not to laugh, though. "You blacked out? So you can't explain why you two ended up in the carriage?"
Erynn tsks. "Shame." He notes a few things down that I'm sure are marks against me. But I can't help it. How'd I get in this situation?
"Convenient that 'Miss Thelea' and Edward escaped, too," says Gerude. He's focusing that glare on me. "Did we interrupt any plans of yours, I wonder?"
I frown. "Gerude, I'm not a traitor."
Erynn just inspects me thoughtfully. He raises his quill. "Lyric, I like you. And so I'm going to tell you something right now." He looks back down at his paper, then back up at me. "That there just now, that was sort of a lie. Not like, one of those awful solid black lies." He holds his hand up and wobbles it back and forth. "It was sort of a... fuzzy sort of iffy lie, you know? One of those. If you're hiding something, you really need to spill it now. The adventure's over, and we need to prepare for..." he trails off for a moment. "For whatever the next step is with you."
"I can just explain everything to Father if it's really that pressing," I say through gritted teeth. At least Father was happy to see me. "I've gone through one Trial. I'll survive another."
Gerude gives me a narrow-eyed look of scrutiny. "Will you?" I don't have an answer for him - and then he leaves with Erynn, and I've no one to answer to anymore.
Now I'm left alone in my old room in Father's house. I'm sure the door is locked from the outside. It gives me an odd nostalgia for my room in Ebrellin-i's Palace - I was locked into that one, too.
I flop onto my bed face-down and punch my pillow. I'm so angry. I did things right! I helped so many people, and all my brother can do is look at me like I'm really a criminal. And I'm not a criminal!
I'm not!
Except Erynn says that I am, or at least I'm sort of a traitor, and how--
A weight settles beside my feet on the bed, like someone's just sat down there. I sit up immediately, mouth already open to demand just what whoever it is thinks they're doing there. Or maybe, in fact even more likely, I'm going to launch into a rant about how I've been treated so very unfairly and how absolutely no one here understands me.
Instead, I behold Faun's cool yellow eyes as he rests his fingertip on my nose. There's a quiet moment where I lose all of what I was going to say, but it's not important anyway. What's important, and perhaps foreboding, is that Faun's face spreads into a slow smile.
A chill goes through me. I've got a bad feeling about everything that's ahead.
* * *
Gerald
* * *
Elam is heavier than he looks, especially for someone that's spent time in captivity. He's gangly, sure, but he makes up for it in height. I manage to lug him back to the Peacock King's cell, though - with a couple of extra guests tagging along.
Now, I'm all for progress, and I think the Poet King, may he rest in bed, comes up with great ideas. But so far I have not found a way to make a Shenanigan go away. In fact, attempting to do so only attracts more of them.
So I've got my shenanigan, Jasper. Then there's one that won't seem to let go of Elam - I suppose Jhe h'Logos made that one for him. Makes sense that he'd give one to his son. Heck, he was probably planning on shenanigans helping fix the broken communication lines between him and those Poets that were oddly quiet when out on assignment. I can't deny that they'd help if someone were to get abducted again.
It doesn't explain the cream-and-red shenanigan that won't seem to stop sniffing me and scowling at me, though. It tagged along too.
Certainly they caused an extra complication - they made it a little tougher to get through the wards. I guess after meeting shenanigans for the first time, Father wouldn't want them crawling around in his Hall. Still, I manage to shove on through by pressing the logic that surely Father would want the shenanigans locked up, wouldn't he? That really seemed to help.
So here I am with one unconscious Xaillyndesse outside of the Peacock King's cell and one inside. Right after I carefully set Elam on the floor, Faun appears with a very disgruntled Lyric in tow.
Faun nods his head in greeting. "Jhe Gerald? I assume you've devised a way of setting our plan into action?"
"Plan?" says my brother, obviously picking up on the intricacies of the situation. The cream and red shenanigan flutters to his shoulder and rubs herself against his face with gusto. "Mrph! Mewgul!" Well, he sounds happy about it. Elam's shenanigan is glaring up at me from the nest it's made on Elam's head, and Jasper's taken up my hat as its perch. Faun gives the creatures a raised eyebrow, then pointedly ignores they exist. Probably the best idea - a shame it didn't work for Father. "Oh," says my brother belatedly, "you uh... brought the King's son along?"
"Yeah, he's part of the plan," I say.
Faun and Lyric's dubious looks are not made any more heartening when the shenanigans echo them.
I explain my plan. It's met with a sigh of disappointment from Faun, and a look of fear from Lyric. In the end, it's agreed that Lyric should go into the cell - he'll do this best. I go in with him so that the wards don't jolt him. Faun stays outside of the cell. Until we've got the King properly bound, he shouldn't be anywhere near him. Hell, I'm wary of being in here. With the amount of energy focused on it, it feels like a furnace. I take the pressure just fine - the wards don't have any problem with me being in here. Lyric, though...
Lyric sags a little bit. I help prop him up a bit. "Thanks." He starts to chuckle. "I guess I do count as one of his servants, don't I?" He sounds so bitter.
"That's why you can do this better than I can," is all I say in response. It seems to calm him, because he just nods, then kneels beside the King.
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