1867-06-23: Cardinal Teleko's House
Cardinal Teleko's House
Summary: Myrana has Cardinal Teleko followed, then decides to do a little investigating of her own.
Date: 1867-06-23
Related: Related Logs (If there aren't any, use None. Don't this entry leave blank. If there is a log, use full URLs, like http://eternalcrusade.wikidot.com/logtitle)
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Myrana  

Beneath the night-blooming jasmine and the single, low-hanging lamp, Myrana D'Armaz watched the sun sink down into the sea beyond the apron of Four Corner's smokestacks and gardens and glittering, tangled marketplaces. The clouds of summer stained a glorious deep pink like bleeding grapefuits over the indigo-black waters and white-sailed ships coming late to harbor. Behind her the house loomed deceptively quiet, dwarfed by the song of cricket and thrush and the trickling of the unseen fountain. A cup of wine sat forgotten on the little beside her wicker couch and a plate of greensweet melon slices and sugared grapes.

This peace was broken by a soft scuffle behind her and Ravio stepped into view, grasping the arm of a child gently but inarguably who had to scurry to keep up. Myrana roused herself from her half doze and sat forward as the girl found her footing and dusted off her clothes before bowing, nervously, and handing her rolled missive. Myrana accepted it, flicking her eyes at Ravio to dismiss him. He dissapeared without a sound, and Myrana smiled very slightly at the nervous little girl, drawing up her legs with a silken sound of skirts shifting.

"Have some melon," she said, sitting up and patting the cushions beside her. The little girl paused, then climbed up, displacing the large and very fluffy ginger tom that had been occupying his master's side like a living blanket. She fell to, stuffing her face immediately while the lady unrolled the parchement. Juice ran down her elbows and her feet swung over the marble.

Myrana frowned, eyes devouring the report. But she waited till the little girl beside her had finished the melon and begun to eat the grapes before raising her hand for Ravio, who stepped back into her view on catsfeet.

"Make sure Terese has a bath and dinner," she says, rising. The gauzy silk noil of her loose gown shifted into place around her as she stepped out, bare feet pressing the cool marble before stepping into slippers. The report she let tumble unnoticed to the legs of the wicker couch, where the big tom batted at it. "I won't be in tonight."

"Will you be needing me, my lady?" Ravio's dissaproval was almost palpable. Not about the girl, but at his ward's expression, which he had seen before. It never led to anything good. "Your father's commanded me to keep you s—"

"I know." Myrana cut him off with a sharp gesture, irritated. The little lightsilver bell on its black cord about her throat tinkled brightly. She put a hand over it as she walked into the house. "I'm not waiting for you."

—-

The rope came back up black with soot, but whole, its end unburnt. Not unexpected for the first warm night of summer, but it never paid to go without checking. Myrana tied up the sleeves of her blouse into knots above the thick leather of her vambraces and wrapped a kerchief over her mouth and nose while Ravio tied the rope to the back of her belt.

"Remember to untie it at the bottom," through his teeth. "It can knock things over."

"I will."

"Don't touch anything you don't need to. And don't dawdle."

"I won't."

"You're going to give me white hair."

Myrana just gave her cousin a scathing look before climbing up atop the chimmney and slipping down it. A bigger frame, even a lithe, wiry one like Ravio's, would have trouble with this. But the One gave to each thing two sides, Dario had once told her; she would never be powerful and strong like her godly brother, but then he would never fit down a chimmney without dislocating something. She let out a breath and made herself shrink in on herself, shoulders in, feet and back braced. Down SLOWLY.

By the time she landed in the cold hearth she was coated with sweat and soot and breathing hard through the cloth tied over her mouth to keep her lungs clear. She tugged it down and wiped her face clean, pushing the white bangs from her face. She was in a parlour, a smoking-room with big windows and several bookshelves. She untied the rope after a short tug and wiped the soles of her boots before stepping out onto the gleaming moonlit floor. That beam of argent light coming in through the gently fluttering window hangings was almost blindingly bright. Myrana blinked it from her vision and looked around; the room was empty. She crept in. Samuel would be on the street below, hiding in an alleyway where he could watch the door and signal Ravio on the roof should the Cardinal be seen returning from the Government District.

Argetlahm's hilts poked at her as she turned her head sharply, strapped to her back to keep it silent, out of the way. The sound ended up only being the creaking of the old building. Another point for Ravio, who'd been against her bringing the cutlass at all. Knives were one thing, but a sword? Well she sure as shit wasn't breaking into the house of a man who might know vampires without it! She screwed up her courage with anger and crept further in. Next time she'd strap it lower.

An investigation of the upper floor of the manor revealed nothing interesting; fine furnishings in the Kentairish fashion. Paintings on the walls, and tapestries, most of them full of religious iconography. A statue of a ship cresting a wave at the top of the stairs, done in brass and black marble, very beautiful. The furniture was all of a style that struck her as quite old, but well-preserved. The bedroom was empty but for a tremendous curtained bed and an altar, but not of the heretical sort she'd expected; a golden crescent-cross with milky white candlestubs and soapstone holders for incense and a holy book of the One. Nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary.

She returned to the library parlour, frustrated and feeling foolish. The servants were all downstairs or asleep. As she approached the fireplace, however, something caught her eye.

Had that book been there before? She had searched the shelves first, but fearing discovery had been quick about it. But now she skirted the beam of moonlight steaming through the open window and lifted it down with careful hands. The binding felt nearly tacky against her skin and she shuddered, looking over her shoulder. Aribbon of bright gold samite hanging down over the spine was brightly visible against the drab leather, and the book itself had stood slightly drawn out from its neighbors, as if only partially slid back into place. None of its fellows had bookmarks. What was Teleko reading?

She cracked it open only to stiffen at what she saw inside. Old Tongue writing, not made by the new printing-presses, but scribed in red and gold letters. The pages were made of what could only be skin parchement, goat or some other creature. They turned only carefully, heavy with gold and silver paint. A religious text?

…No. Not religious.

This was heresy. This was what she'd come looking for. But god, she hadn't expected THIS. This was a book of sorcery, like something out of a faerie tale. She skimmed it, finding an account of Emperor Darius Firebrand and his adventures, but not the ones she knew. These were new to her, though she'd heard darker stories like these, filtered by time and retelling, about how he'd climbed to the edge of the world, and come back changed with burning feet and bleeding eyes, setting fires with his voice.

Tucked into the back, a scrap of parchement almost translucent with age nearly slipped free. She tilted the book up to catch it before it could fall, and in her haste stepped back into the flood of moonlight. It caught in the braid of her white hair as she turned, letting it touch the hidden sheaf; there were three words.

Myrana felt her throat go dry and tight. Unwittingly, her lips formed the first syllable of the uppermost word—

That sound again, a creak behind her. She shut the book with a jerky motion utterly beyond her control and found that she had framed herself in full view of the window. Nothing was behind her, and the room still stood as empty as before. But a crawl of horror had worked its way up her spine and gripped her heart. A feeling of being watched tightened her skin and sharpened her eyes. But there was no-one there! What-

Another creak.

Time to go.

Hands shaking, she stuffed the book into her vest and slipped out through the billowing curtains, descending quickly to the street below. Samuel met her in the shadows like a troll looming from out under a bridge. Ravio joined them an instant later.

By the time the moon had hit its zenith they were gone, vanishing into the slums like rats and lying low in an Armaz safehouse.

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