For the rest of the morning, Kay continued to wonder about word choice. Between work tasks, she scribbled notes in a file -- repeatedly adding and revising phrases before giving up in utter disgust. None of them seemed to sound right to her. Some seemed too formal when she read them back; others not formal enough.
As if in answer to her plea, a face swam up from her memory. That scribe fellow she had met the other day, Mestru Merrick, would surely be able to help her out if he was available. Scribes knew all about proper language and composition; such things were part of their business. Having decided on that, she printed out the contents of her notes file and tucked it carefully away in her waist-pouch.
When the time for her mid-day meal break came, she hurried off through the city, and eventually swept into Leaves as if she were a gust of wind. Hopefully Mestru Merrick wouldn't be too busy to spare a few minutes of his time. If he couldn't (or wouldn't) help her, then she'd have to do without --- she didn't know who else to ask. And she needed the answer to her question immediately. Time was running out on her mid-day meal break. And after that, there'd be no more time before she had to say what she needed to say to Gwenn. Scribes knew all about words and phrases and about how to arrange them ...
Ceroill watched a bit bemused as the lass came bursting into his shop, with a small flurry of leaves in her wake. The presence of a scroll, or at least a roll of paper in her hand was evidence that she needed something either translated or replied to. Her obvious hurry led him to suspect the latter. He set aside his project, after carefully sanding the ink, and smiled at the breathless youngster. "Ah, Mestra, how delightful to see you again so soon! Is it an invitation, a declaration, or a threat that you need help in answering?"
"Goddess bless thee, Mestru Merrick", replied Kay, offering the older man a bow of respect, "It's good to see you again as well; and not just because I've sore need for your services". She pauses to catch her breath and flip her cloak back over her shoulders. An odd mixture of expressions chase each other across her face for a few moments; frustration and uncertainty with a small thread of desperate hope running through it.
"'Tis indeed something that I must answer ... but not a threat", comes the hesitant answer, "rather that I dinna dare risk a new friendship by phrasing mine answer improperly". Carefully, she unrolled the piece of paper she'd printed out earlier and handed it over.
With a great sigh and look of unhappiness, Kay admitted (her accent growing thicker and thicker in her distress), "I hae tried and tried, but it wouldna come oot in a way that doesna look WRONG. Protocols must surely exist for answering such offers, but I ken them not."
Ceroill looked over the neatly printed text on the paper. Kay seemed quite nervous, and he now saw why. What was proposed here seemed groundbreaking to him. Not that it would be dangerous in a literal sense, but it was still a bit of a conceptual jump, to put it lightly. There were surely those among the Comyn who would protest the impropriety of such a bond between a Darkovan and a Terranan.
He glanced up at her briefly, and almost asked if she were certain about this, but her face and stance told him all he needed to know. Her mind was obviously made up, though it had clearly not been an easy decision. He read through the document again, to make sure he had the details properly in mind.
"You do realize that nothing like this has ever been done, as far as I can recall. It will certainly cause a stir, and quite possibly a scandal. There is no existing word for what you propose, and to devise one properly, I will need to research things a bit. Especially when you consider the formality of it all. Come back at this time tomorrow, and if you are still determined, I will write you a fair copy of this in Casta". His eyes were concerned, but not censorious.
Kay stared at him for a moment, trying to think of how she might say this without giving insult. "If we must file a fair copy in Casta in some office, then tommorow will be soon enough. I had not realized such a thing would be needed. Must we both sign it as well ? And do we require a witness to affirm it ?", she began.
Then a pause as she tugged nervously at her braid before continuing in a tone full of pleading and frustration. "But 'tis tonight that I must speak my answer ! And I must need have time to memorize the words afore then. 'Twould be a grave offense indeed, if I simply read them off the page. I only set them to paper because I couldna compose them in my head. And in little more than half a candle-mark, I must return to my desk. If 'twill take you some time, then could ye perhaps send a runner to deliver a draft of the words later this afternoon ?".
"Ah, well, if you need it today, I shall get to work immediately. I shall send a draft to you as soon as I have the basics worked out. It is the linguistic research that will take the time, the translation and copying are fairly quick. No, there is no need to file copies, or any such bureaucratics as that. However, I should, afterwards send out notices to the centers of learning that a major variant has been developed. You shall have a workable text by mid afternoon."
"Thank you, Mestru Merrick. That would be perfect timing", Kay replied. "And if this does cause a scandal", she added, tossing her head defiantly, I care not. If there are indeed those who would see impropriety where none such exists, then surely their minds must be so full of muck as to be able to see nothing else. Let Zandru take them all, for all I care. And though I dinna care for violence, if I must do so in order to reply to any insult, then I shall take fighting lessons -- perhaps from the Renunciates."
Ceroil gave her a rather odd look, then replied "Unfortunately, Kay, scandal and propriety are brothers on this world, and what you propose here will be very strange to a great many people. Not just the cross-cultural aspects, but the supposedly simpler personal ones as well."
The warning in Ceroill's tone was clear as he continued. There was something about the young that often made them sometimes rush in where even angels feared to tread, and his new young friend was no different. "You have already seen and felt some of the proprieties here, and they do not always work the same for men and for women. Perhaps that is anachronistic and strange to you, but it is the way of life here."
The young woman frowned at this. She thought she was used to often feeling like a piece that almost- but-not-quite-fit. Her grandmother had called it "sometimes daring to march to the beat of your own drummer". Yes, it could indeed be a difficult path to tread, but at least she retained her own distinct individuality.
A rosy blush spread across Kay's cheeks as she recalled various events of the past few days. The same behaviour that used to get her called "wholesomely-dull" back on Terra seemed often to have a way of turning out to be rude or startlingly-bold over here.
"Be careful Kay", continued Ceroill, "Seek the Renunciates only if you must, and then not lightly. They are more independent than most Darkovan ladies, but they are not Terranan. They are not bad people, do not take me amiss, I deal with them on occasion, but beware of assumptions, even with them."
He removed his spectacles, and smiled at her. "I fear I am sounding like a protective uncle. Forgive me, Kay, but I cannot help myself in this case. I have seen what can happen with less unusual proposals than this". He held up her paper. "I will send you your copy this afternoon. We can work out payment later."
"I thank you for your wisdom and advice, Mestru Merrick", the young woman replied, "and I shall leave word at the gate for them to expect a messenger come seeking me on your behalf. I shall also keep your warning in mind. 'Tis true enough that there are many things on this world that strike me as being odd. But then again, I've always said the same of Terra as well. My grandmother often told me that people tend to fear what they do not understand, and that fear often breeds such feelings as contempt or hatred".
She paused for a moment to collect her thughts, then added "So I am trying to learn about this world's ways with an open mind ... though I must admit that some of the local cultural norms will likely never cease to strike me as being odd or offensive in some way. Goddess willing, I might never need to defend myself against anything more than just words and rude looks. But it is better to be prepared -- just in case". And on THAT note, she made her farewell.