This is the other half of CHAPTER FIVE…featuring more of Trelli and Migran….I confess I just love this pair….
Migran hovered in his own doorway, apparently transfixed in surprise or horror; which one it was hard to say, as his expression kept lurching while fitting anger into the mix. Trelli dropped the lid in surprise without being swift enough to get some fingers out of the way, the resulting pain adding a fuel to her own shock, resulting in an unexpected small fire of indignation.
“I might ask you the same Master Migran!” she blurted back. In her time in the orphanage the devoteds had been intense in teaching that if you knew it was wrong you should say so and not fear the consequences; the old lessons coming to the fore she strove on. “I knew you were up to something! Telling me those papers were to do with tax laws when there was not a jot of legal piffle in them! I don’t know what this is Master Migran, but it smells wrong and looks worse!!”
That said, she sat back, nursing injured fingers between opposite side and arm, but keeping her disapproving scowl fixed on him.
Used to being lectured by father, advised by mother and cheerfully joshed by his brother, Migran was somewhat taken aback at his last refuge of supremacy being in a state of rebellion. Thus chagrined into immobility he remained exiled upon the borders of his own domain, and so reduced to pleading for some sort of acceptance or comprehension.
“Trelli! Let me explain things to you!” since she didn’t snap at him he felt he could step into his own room and close the door. “It’s not as bad as you might think it is! It’s all very simple really!”
Trelli remained scowling and despite his squeak of protest once more lifted the lid of the desk and peered in and promptly set an accusing and troubled look upon him.
“Is this one of these stormingdiddle things?”
“The Stommigheid,” he replied trying to inject a level of injured dignity and ending up sounding peevish “The authorities teach us falsehoods. It is not foolish or dangerous, it is a wondrous gift we can use!”
He advanced, she stiffened, closed the lid and seemed intent upon repelling him from any attempt to reclaim his property; he halted and tried to sound reasonable.
“I have worked for three years on this, from scraps of information and bits and pieces I came by. I can use this to scan the Oakhostian, listen in on others using their devices; give father and my brother an edge in the business. Of course it might take some explaining so I will have to be cautious,”
“Cautious!” she’d never felt so bold to speak back so, but if tax fraud was not bad enough, here was Migran fooling about with forbidden things “Do you think this” she rattled the desk lid “Is being cautious! Folk get found out y’know. The Custodians get called in! You need to stop this now!!”
Suddenly possessed of the irrational idea that a small maid was wont to have a hammer somewhere about her person and was going to take it to his oculator Migran found his own sort of boldness, which since he wasn’t actual that bold came out in a more furtive way.
“Well who are you going to tell Trelli? Are you going to admit to breaking into my room and rummaging through my belongings? You might get the grim sympathy of a Custodian for doing the Good Lord God’s work, but there will be no one in this town who would trust a servant prone to sneaking about the place. We all have secrets y’know,”
Trelli, at being intimidated so suddenly lost the last shred of proprietary,
“Don’t you threaten me Migran Hrendel!! I’m not doing your rotten ol’ paperwork anymore!” she snatched into the one draw and pulled out the copy of “The Lustful Revenge of the Scorn’d Princess N’Y Hishleal of Old Roder” waving it with all the force of a battle flag. “And as for this-this!” she threw it down on the floor, and randomly kicking the said volume sent it skidding under his bed. Not familiar with the concept of irony she saw nothing amusing in that and was set to storm past him. As he was still of a dither and stuck halfway betwixt door and desk, she ended up, close and staring up at him “So you’d better change your ways and your notions Migran Hrendel!”
There was a pause, a quizzical expression and she looked down, gasped made a sound half way between a snarl and snort
“Do you mind stepping to one side!!”
Having suffered the social shock of being reduced from Master Migran to Migran Hrendel twice in short succession and because of her waving of the butter knife at him he obeyed.
Thus she rushed past uttering sounds of outrage.
Leaving Migran a bit puzzled at details of her exit, but then he became very aware of his own physical state.
Trelli had never had that effect on him before, and her in such a wild and angry mood too!
He slumped on his bed confused and wished for impossible things to turn up and put it all right.
Dekyria was letting their guest, captive or acquisition; call him what you will continue to doze, hunched up in a corner of the captain’s domain. Currently Dekyria’s attention was upon the reports from his Owls.
Each one had observed a series of bright pinpoints of white light moving swiftly from left to right across the bottom of the mirror’d surfaces of the oculators. Further examination suggested they were all the same event. This was noteworthy as each of the file were observing different regions of the central southern coastal lands. An event which imposed on all oculators should in theory be a large, and thus in the physical sense likely to be not just disruptive but also destructive. So something very small, but very intrusive, without being disruptive?
Alternately maybe not yet disruptive.
There were people at Drygnest who studied theory and possibilities and were wont to quote surviving snatches from or speculate upon the legendary tome ‘Numbers Where There Are None’. Dekyria was sure they would have been enraptured to have witnessed this. While he?
Just had to guess, wonder and watch
His attention turned upon the sleeping figure.
“Now. Can you explain this. Or are you part of it?”