[Allenel/etc.]
Allenel made certain the entrance to the tent was well-guarded, telling John the wainwright (who had returned from delivering the sleeping child Fran to the tents where the Church-affiliated healers had set up shop) to tell any visitors that the lawyer had finished business for the day and would not be available again until the next morning. Then he and Brion and Barnabas waited, passing the time in quiet conversation, until the first whisperings of the Politi teleport could be heard in the center of the large tent.
A vertical line of grey appeared first, roughly six feet in length, and hovered above the ground. Then it turned upon itself, and twisted, expanding to a circle that swiveled and swept downwards. The first out was Kallin So himself, pale and drawn with one wrist bandaged. And with him, the girl Sue. Between them, they supported a figured cloaked from head to foot without an inch of skin showing. Linnell. Barnabas took her, and quickly hustled her through another exit, to lead her to a tent nearby. One of heavy canvas, through which not a sliver of sunlight could penetrate.
Allenel stood off to one side, arms folded across his chest, and nodded at Kallin's own short inclination of his head. They did not exchange words, but only that mutual recognition, before the mage turned back to the waiting circle. It twisted again as Kallin raised his hands, lifted upwards and swept back down to the ground with a cold rush of wind. Morrighu, kneeling, and next to her an unconscious woman. By then, Barnabas had returned, and Allenel raised one eyebrow in query. -Ursula Larson,- the old cleric mouthed silently, crossing quickly to help the Bean Nighe move the injured woman to one side.
After that, they came more quickly, those who had been outside on the scene of battle. Geiren and Darmon stepped through next -- and next to the latter, a petite young woman of black hair and green eyes. A questioning look to Barnabas about that one brought only an unknowing shrug in response. Then a strangely painted young man with long black hair -- Zephyr, Allenel recognized from Barnabas' prior description of the man who had organized the attack on the Inquisitors. Then, a dark-haired man wih silver eyes, shirtless, clutching the sword of an Inquisitor and muttering to himself. Another shrug from Barnabas, and Allenel wondered briefly to himself whether the road passing by the old man's house had seen an amazing increase in pedestrian traffic that day.
Kallin turned one hand, and pulled something to himself, and the grey circle shivered again. The next figure -- and the last -- to step through was Paul Rustin. And behind him, the portal shook, then collapsed upon itself. The two mages looked at each other, then looked at the lawyer, who looked at Barnabas, who shrugged again. "Welcome to the tent city," Allenel finally said to the assembled people, both known and unknown.
[Geiren/Brion]
Geiren moved over to stand near Morrighu - from there he watched the strangers with a hunter's gaze; the glyphs that ran the coarse over his tense body were darkened swirls of mud and blood.
Brion, who was standing near Allenel, scrutinized each newcomer, and noted how Geiren held himself. {Berserker}, he thought, worriedly; he seen that wild look amongst his kin right after a battle. And oft it meant that they didn't know friend nor foe. {At least he seems to be holding himself in check}, the war piper noted. {And it's good his wife is near.}
[Cari]
Cari kept herself near Darmon - well away from the other, blood-splattered, warrior. She kept her hands in sight and her expression neutral. The only action she took was to send to Zephyr, ::I'm glad to see you - sorry I didn't make it back with the ice pack.:: She knew he'd have questions about the missing days, and was still weighing how much truth she could give him. And she wondered how much trust he'd be willing to give her - because there were going to be some holes in her story she wouldn't be able to fill in.
[Zephyr]
Passing his eyes over the area, Zephyr took check of his belongings. Even when it was he that was doing the teleporting, he always seemed to need to make sure that everything made it back in good shape.
He stepped to one side, when he heard the others coming through, and immediately noticed Ursula laying off to one side. He went to her.
"Ursula?" He looked to the ones tending her, "Is she conscious?" He felt so bad, like it was his fault for bringing her into this.
[Allenel]
One glance to Barnabas and the older man motioned for two others -- old family friends of the late Judge Gilford -- to step into the tent. They had expected that one or more of the "visitors" might be injured, so the men brought with them a litter on which to carry away the injured Ursula Larson. A lawyer and not a physician, Allenel did not dwell on her obviously labored breathing and poor coloring, but merely left the two to take her out of the tent and directly to medical assistance. Her wounds would be explained away as ones received in an attack by an unknown thief. As he watched Barnabas lead the way from the tent, Allenel hoped the old cleric would have the sense to have Mrs. Larson taken to a healing tent other than the one where her daughter Fran now slept.
The others seemed to be waiting for something to happen or someone to say something, and since he was the "host," it seemed to be on him to take things from there. "All of you are free to come and go as you please, but be aware that the Church does have personnel moving through the tent city as well. If for some reason you wish to stay, we can make arrangements for shelter." Such arrangements already had been made for the Politi and those who came with them -- Sue and Darmon, Morrighu and Geiren. It was the others, Zephyr and the two strangers, who left Allenel at a bit of a loss.
[Morrighu/Geiren]
Morrighu came to her feet as the men took Ursula away on the stretcher, and moved closer to Geiren. She lightly touched his arm and was rewarded with a gentling in his gaze when he looked at her. Later, when they were alone, she would help ease away the battle energy that still stirred within him.
[Cari]
Cari weighed the benefits of staying - which were many; she needed to have a look around the tent city, and she needed to get a better idea what these new Refusers were like. She decided to keep the demure persona that Zephyr was familiar with - the longer she kept her new skills hidden the better. What others didn't know they couldn't betray.
She sent shyly, ::I'm Cari. And at the moment I have no place to stay, so it would be appreciated.:: She looked over at Zephyr, and sent so all could "hear," ::I got separated from Zephyr and the rest a couple days ago....I had been a spy in the Church - serving as Lord Semareth's secretary, so my face is known. And so I ended up dodging some Inquisitors right after we got back.::
[Bond]
"Gah."
Bond said it again, shaking himself as though trying to brush away the tingle that had settled across his skin after the teleportation. "Gah. I hate that even when *I* do it."
The mage looked down at the sword in his hand, considered it for a moment, then jammed it into the ground. "Might need that later.."
"No offense, of course," he said, looking up to find eyes upon him. "Nicely spun thread and all; it's just that I've had a bit of trouble with world-walking spells lately."
[Kallin]
"No offense taken," the Politi mage murmured, watching as the other found his bearings in the wide tent. The threads were humming around the open area, tasting everyone there, dancing to the silver-eyed man and back again, twisting in interest at the unfamiliar touch of his magic. No name from the man, still, though something familiar about him tugged at the back of Kallin's mind. The Politi was too tired, though, and focused on maintaining control of the energies of the mosaic that he carried inside himself, to chase the thought down. His right wrist ached with the unhealed cut where he fed Linnell.
[Bond]
The silver eyes scanned across the tent, settling at last on the black and silver pile of his pack and clothing. "Oh, *very* nicely spun threads. My compliments." He looked down at himself and considered his bare chest. "Hrm. Pardon me while I make myself a little more presentable."
[Zephyr]
Passing his eyes over the area, Zephyr caught Cari looking at some of the others. She apparently was introducing herself to them and was standing near Darmon. He wondered how they met, and when exactly she had reappeared.
"Cari?" He got up from his crouch and went to her. He hesitated at about five feet, and began to take in the sight that she presented to him. "Whu..What happened to you?" He had remembered the innocent looking woman dressed in that green fairy dress. But now she was dressed much differently. Although, she did seem to act the same - innocent like.
"Are you alright?"
[Cari]
She had noted that his focus had been on his concern for the wounded woman, and so probably had not heeded her explanation to the others. Cari tilted her head so she could look up at Zephyr's painted face. Noble Zephyr; a self-sacrificing young knight, who reminded her of Jarrad. Both young men fought for high causes - the types of knights who became martyrs. Unless they had friends who moved within the shadows and saw the danger that men such as these couldn't even conceive. And in many ways Semareth was much like both Jarrad and Zephyr.
For most of the universe fought without honor, or under its own codes.
Cari respected Zephyr, and knew that to him almost every woman was one to be protected and offered the flowers of chivalry, and so she tried to give him what truth she could. ::I'm fine,:: she sent, ::I'm sorry I had to disappear before I could get you that icepack.:: Some tiny part of her apologized for the weave of untruths she had to begin, but there was no hesitation nor break when she sent, ::I had to do some dodging or be spotted - so I've been keeping a low profile.::
She glanced at her clothes and added with a smile, ::One of things I had to solve was clothing .... fancy garb with a bloodstained gash tends to be very noticeable. Luckily, I was able to sell off a bit of that silver jewelry and get a new outfit or two.:: Cari refrained from a wider grin; for while it was untrue she had had to spend any money on her clothes, it was quite true that her jewelry had brought her a pretty sum. Actually it was a very nice nest egg.
[Allenel/Kallin/Paul/etc.]
Allenel glanced at Brion, looked at Kallin who merely raised one eyebrow and shook his head in an indication that he had no idea what to do with the newcomers. The lawyer ducked outside for several minutes to make certain that arrangements had been made to settle everyone into accommodations, in a sheltered area surrounded by a network of tents established by Allenel and those he trusted to administer their own relief efforts. Not long after that, everyone was shown to their "rooms," with hot meals, and soap and water, waiting for them. Not the level of luxury available at the Golden Griffon, or even comfort that Hugh Rogers could give at the Dragon's Inn, but suitable enough.
[Cari]
The ensuing commotion as everyone went to settle in interrupted Cari and Zephyr's conversation. She figured that they could continue later and after excusing herself she went to claim a cot.
Her initial plan was simple - use what was probably going to be a communal meal to get to know these people.
[Allenel]
Allenel himself returned to his own "office" to contemplate how to handle the fact that the tent city -- established under Blayne's sponsorship -- now hid a group of Refusers who had tried to wipe out a squad of Inquisitors.
[Kallin]
The walls of the tent where Linnell Seris rested were heavy canvas, and every corner and fold had been carefully secured against even the slightest sliver of encroaching sunlight. When Kallin So slipped through the entrance, he did so with a quick weave to deflect any of the waning daylight from arrowing around the edge to harm the young woman within. He paused just inside to consider the heavy darkness of the interior; to his eyes, the chamber was awash in color, moving with the threads that were the life of every Politi mage.
Except the one who lay curled on a cot near the far wall, a mere ten feet from where he stood. The threads moved across the floor and inches up the canvas, curling around the poles, yet the space around her -- roughly a diameter of three feet -- lay bare. Around her slight and shivering form, only shades of cold grey could be seen. -At least she lives,- Kallin reminded himself, and crossed over to sit on the edge of the cot.
He knew that though she did not move immediately, and continued to lay with her back towards him, Linnell was quite aware of his presence. She had to have heard the way the threads hummed when he ducked into the tent -- and he knew that the scent of his blood had set that quick tremble across her shoulders. Kallin did not speak to her, nor did he venture a mental communication -- Linnell's shields had been firmly closed to him and to the others for days. Fragile though they were, and easily breached, they said she did not welcome the intrusion.
Silently, he loosened the bandage about his right wrist, ignoring the sudden flare of pain as he pulled the cloth aside; any discomfort was outweighed by the ache of the mosaic he carried within him. Then, he waited for her to steel herself, for the blood-smell to become so strong to her that she could not fight back her hunger any longer. The feedings were more difficult for her than they were for him; to Kallin, it was done with a grim realization that without the blood, and without the threads he could spin <in> to her at the same time, Linnell would be lost. To Linnell, though, the Hunger was a shameful thing, and she always would wipe the blood from her lips afterwards and toss the cloth aside in something akin to self-disgust.
<thisthisthisthis>
Kallin closed his eyes and drew a deep breath as the flows of the mosaic within him surged, disrupting the rhythm of his own heartbeat. A soft rustle told him Linnell had half sat up and turned towards him, and still not opening his eyes he lifted his wrist and offered it to her. Within seconds, her hands had grasped his forearm and she had lowered her mouth to the half-healed wound, tearing it open again and drawing the blood out in a warm rush into her throat.
A freezing flash of the cold of <between>, and a memory of the blackness that had crept around Wyland as Kallin had held him on the dais. Isolated from the mosaic, denied the threads, the boy had withered in the Church dungeons; by the time Kallin and Fredia had reached him, there had been nothing more to do than spin him loose and let him die. But he had not been alone, and neither was Linnell.
He offered her a handkerchief when she finally pulled away, and caught it before she could throw it to the ground. Without a word, Linnell curled down again and turned her back to him as he wrapped the bandage around his wrist yet again. And without speaking, Kallin left her in the darkness with the taste of his blood upon her tongue.
- - - - - - -
Kallin found Allenel Gilford where he expected to find him, in the tent where the lawyer met with the residents of the tent city to administer the rebuilding program he had arranged with the local Baron. As always, the other man's colors were unreadable -- for one completely lacking in magic, Gilford had a powerful ability to guard his own thoughts and feelings; his expression did not change as he looked up, his blue eyes skimming over the stained bandage about Kallin's wrist. "Again, you have my thanks," Kallin said quietly as he took one seat across from Allenel.
Allenel only nodded, and stacked up some loose papers before pushing them aside. "I've arranged a communal meal with them all, though frankly I don't hold out much help of anyone mounting a resistance strong enough to rid Montfort of the Redeemer." Allenel left unspoken the fact that only the Church itself had been sufficient to rid Montfort of the Republica. Nor did he point out what Kallin already knew, which was that Allenel himself, though a Refuser, planned a future in Montfort in which he co-existed with the Church. "Blayne has Elwynn Evindem and her companions locked up in their Bard's Hall and there seems to be no breach in the Grand Inquisitor's armor."
<this>
Kallin blinked, and blinked again to clear his vision of the wash of colors that followed the soft whisper of the threads. "Not my concern anymore." The heat of the magicks inside him was intoxication.
[Brion]
Brion caught part of the conversation as he shifted the tent flap to enter. He quietly said, to alert the others of his presence, "It's Brion."
He stepped into the tent, and let the flap drop. He had been helping settle the newcomers, but was edgy about leaving Allenel unguarded for long - not that he feared Kallin So, but now they sat in the heart of rebellion. "I suspect that a couple of them in there no longer care about numbers - the fires of battle burn too brightly in them to be ignored." He didn't say that main one he was speaking of was Geiren, but a couple of the newcomers carried with them a intensity that spoke of seeing one too many battles.
[Kallin/Allenel]
-Geiren,- Kallin thought, when the pulse of the mosaic had quieted enough for him to think at all. As always, after feeding Linnell, he was light-headed, and the added exhiliration of the flows moving through his veins only increased the effect. He knew the other man's thirst for vengeance against the Church -- against Blayne -- was as strong as, if not stronger, than Kallin's own. And a large part of the Politi mage longed to stay in Montfort and see it burned again if only to see the Grand Inquisitor burned with it --
<no>
-- but the patterns were weaving him elsewhere, and he could feel them carrying him away from the fires that simmered in Montfort. "Ware, Gilford, that you do not test the Grand Inquisitor's tolerance. If he should choose, he could tear this camp apart in search of those you harbor."
Allenel paused, then shrugged slightly; all three in the tent knew that the lawyer had taken a gamble by entering the tent city in the first place -- a gamble that having established it, and having taken steps to thoroughly capture public opinion, Blayne would not lightly do anything to harm it. And as long as Allenel had kept his head down and limited his activities simply to reconstruction efforts, he had not lost that gamble. But the stakes had been raised by the arrival of this Zephyr.
[Kit]
The young fox woman trotted through the tent city - again in fox form - after reporting a crime to the Guard. Her pace was jaunty; she had finally _done_ something. Though the mystery of who stole the necklace and earring was by no means solved - at least there was a chance the elder female, who had owned the jewelry, might be helped. Lt. Armand had seemed a concerned, competent man, and Kit decided that she liked him. Though he wasn't "friend" yet.
She wanted to go see Allenel and tell him _all_ about her adventure. She thought he'd pleased - particularly when she told him that she had taken human form. Kit knew he worried about her staying in fox form - feared that her friends were losing her. He just didn't realize that she had _years_ to heal and get used to being human again - though Kit admited, real humans didn't have that kind of time. And that Allenel might like to see her back in human form while his time existed on this plane. Sorrow began to seep from behind the dam she had built to hold it back - sorrow at thinking of Allenel being gone. Kit shook her head - she would change to human form to make him feel better!! Shifting and following human rules had felt strange today, but it hadn't been horrible. Just a little uncomfortable - it would just take some getting used to.
As Kit got closer to Allenel's tent she remembered that he had mysterious people there and her trot slowed. He might not want here there right now!
Torn with indecision Kit paused between tents, but finally decided to go ask if he minded.
With the decision made the were-fox slipped under the front flap and froze.........
Linnell's scent was strong in the room and sitting there, with Allenel and Brion, was a black-haired man - in robes of gray, with three silver hoops in his right ear. Linnell's scent was as heavy on him, as was the smell of magic.
A faint whimper escaped from Kit's throat, but beyond that no statue had been more immovable.
[Allenel/Kallin]
The rhythms in the room shifted, something sang through the threads with combined notes of sorrow and hope --
<here>
-- and the colors moved. Kallin drew a slow breath at the sound of the slight whimper, and the blue eyes he turned in the fox's direction glittered. -The patterns are weaving,- he thought tiredly, and the smell of his own blood was an acrid taste in the air.
Allenel's own head had turned, quickly, at the soft, worried whine coming
from the vixen's throat, and the sight of Kallin's pale face worried him.
The mage's coldly calm response, merely to stare at the small fox without
moving, worried him even more. Before the lawyer realized what he
was doing, he had stood and bent to scoop Kit into his arms and stand facing
the other man. And then searched for words, knowing that neither
he nor Brion could do anything to protect Kit from the mage
if his anger against Blayne and those sworn
to the Grand Inquisitor was great enough.
Still, Kallin did not move, and the long silence unbalanced Allenel more than anything else. That and the incessant whispering just below the level of audibility; he knew it was the threads, Drywen had explained that much to him, and how around a Dominti such as Kallin it would be louder than usual. As if they all were waiting for the colors to blaze into fire.
But all he felt from Kallin was cold ice.
[Kit/Brion]
Kit could feel the ice shards of the Politi mage's eyes boring into her heart - finding all the guilt that lay there; the betrayal of Linnell's trust. The betrayal of innocents. The betrayal of ideals. All tangled together in a withering bundle in the fox woman's soul. If Allenel had had a vest on, she would have burrowed her head into the fabric - hiding her face from those eyes. But instead all she could do was press her body as close as possible to his chest, and whimper.
Brion watched the frozen scene - Kallin looking like he was either going to explode or shatter; Allenel putting himself on the line - with no means to fight except for the strength of his will and beliefs; and Kit - who was drowning in guilt that wasn't truly hers. With a snort Brion came to his feet - he was tired of facades that lay over everyone in this thrice-damned town - illusions and lies lay like a smothering blanket over the guilty and the innocent, whose perceptions were warped by pain beyond all reckoning. But when he spoke his voice, though firm and clear, was gentle. "None here are enemies," Brion said, moving to position himself between the two men, but off-slightly to one side.
He looked over the young fox Allenel held in his arms. Then Brion looked at Kallin and added, "The only guilt that child carries is made from her own belief. From what I heard in the truths behind her tale - she tried to protect a friend, but the truth was that it was only a choice of which edge the sword would fall with." He shook his head, thinking for more than a few seconds of his niece - Laurelyn. Almost to himself he said, "Warriors know that no battle is clean, but the innocents are like the proverbial sin-eaters - they try to carry all the guilt for the chaos on their own shoulders."
[Allenel/Kallin]
Allenel held the trembling fox to his body and waited for ... for what? For any response from Kallin. Anything other than the frigid silence that lay in the tent, anything other than the focused, intent and unblinking gaze. Even the whispering had stopped, waiting. Kit's heartbeat against the palm of his hand was a staccato of unthinking fear.
Then Kallin closed his eyes, and when he opened them the moment of tense expectancy had passed. The mage looked not at the fox, not at Brion who had spoken in her defense, but at Allenel, and the razor stare was gone. If anything, only vast emptiness lay in Kallin's expression. "The loneliness kills her," the Politi mage near-whispered, and in his voice a rough ache could be heard. The lawyer could not tell whether the other man referred to Linnell, or Kitrina, or both.
And with that, the humming started again in a sudden warm rush as Kallin rose to his feet to stand with what Allenel was astonished to read as uncertainty in his face. "Would you -- Would you care to see Linnell?" he asked softly, addressing Kit directly.
[Kit/Brion]
Brion stepped back and watched with kindness in his blue eyes.
Kit peered over Allenel's arm - her heart pounding hard against her ribcage. She had heard Brion's words, and some of their sense had penetrated - the only way to know how much guilt she truly carried was to again see Linnell. And know if the Politi apprentice would reject her or accept her.
The young vixen licked Allenel's hand and stretched towards Kallin. Her glittering black eyes showed the depths of her own uncertainty.
[Kallin/Allenel]
Kallin knew Allenel still was unsure, perhaps as unsure as Kit herself -- the lawyer only reluctantly allowed him to touch one hand gently to the russet fur on the fox's head, and when Kallin reached to take Kit from the other's grasp, there was a moment when Allenel hesitated to hand her over. "The only battle I fight now, Kitrina Tvyvar, is for Linnell." It was the only promise he could make Kit, that whatever wrongs might lie between them, whatever bonds held her to Blayne, he would concern himself with those some other day.
<yes>
Bellatrix had set, and darkness had settled over the tent city while Kallin had been with Allenel. The mage crossed quickly to the chamber where Linnell mewed herself in shadows, and slipped within. The girl still lay on her cot, though towards the entrance now, and at the sight of his unexpected return, half-raised herself with a questioning expression. Only to freeze when she realized what he carried in his arms. Just as Kit had frozen when she had first entered Allenel's tent.
Linnell did not move a muscle as Kallin stepped across the tent to crouch by the cot, though her dark eyes widened with what might have been anguish. "A'dalin," he started, and paused at her wince, at the way her gaze skittered across the bloodied bandage around his wrist. "A'dalin," Kallin said more firmly, "there is little comfort for you. Or for her. Except what you can give each other."
<yesyesyes>
The threads did not move closer to Linnell, they still left her isolated in a barren circle of grey. But they did touch the warmth of Kit's breath before dancing away, murmuring secrets to themselves. ::The patterns weave,:; Kallin noted for Kit's hearing only, and waited for Linnell's reaction, just as Allenel had waited for his.
Only when Linnell lifted one edge of her blanket to make a spot next to
her for the fox to nestle in, when the shiver of pain in Linnell's pale
colors had shifted into a tone of welcome, did Kallin relax. He loosened
his grip on the small fox so she could choose to slip next to Linnell,
or slip from the tent.
[Kit]
Kit didn't immediately leave Kallin's arms - she looked up with understanding in her eyes and bent her head to lick his hand.
Then she flowed over his arms and into the spot that Linnell had made for her. There Kit nestled down; curling her warm russet body close to Linnell's frigid one.
[Kallin]
<yes>
Once Linnell had wrapped her arms around the fox and pulled the blanket over both of them, Kallin stood and turned to leave the tent, the threads flowing after him in looping, shimmering waves. Outside, the night air was cold; under his skin, and in his bone, the mosaic breathed fire.