Seeking: Sorceress

[Bosie Vaporgate]

Buoyansie tripped along at a quick pace over the cobblestones on the small road between the stately Temple and the Civic Court. A young female clerk pacing the Court grounds waved a hello in acknowledgment of the gnome, and Bosie batted her fingers in hasty response. The quicker path to her destination would have taken her past the Justice Hall, but just past the Court, Bosie took a sharp turn to detour through a dirt alley that was lined with stick-and-canvas stalls. As she trotted through the miniature bazaar, she reached up to help herself to a blue plum from one of the vendors, who bared her teeth in a falsely gracious smile. As long as none of the government employees who wandered this little-known alley had a problem with the vendors, they might yet escape taxation on their sales.

A staggered arrangement of shabby wooden fences blocked the mouth of the alley so that one had to wind this way and that to exit, and, looking behind, could hardly see where one had been. Bosie glanced about to gather her bearings and bit into her plum, which was a large enough fruit in her hand to constitute a fine snack. She discovered she had southwardly overshot her destination, and she took off to the north at a more relaxed pace while enjoying her plum.

The gnome finished sucking the last bit of flesh off her fruit as she arrived at the corner of the tall hedges surrounding Ryxa Liorysei's house. She dragged her hand along the leaves and deposited the pit inconspicuously in the branches as she walked. When she arrived at the walkway that led up to the large house's entrance, she paused to crack her knuckles and ruffle her unruly hair.

Two days prior, the daughter, Myrna--the spooky-eyed, lazy-tongued half-gnome jade--had followed Ryxa here after skulking around the Justice Hall for days to catch her attention. She'd mumbled out an agreement, that Buoyansie would come to call on this date, and she'd left a thin note, sparse with bits of information her mother wished to discuss. "Affazezza--sorcery?" it read, and: "origin-->location? MOTIVE?" At the bottom of the note, beneath several other wandering scrawlings, was the only complete sentence of the draft, printed much more neatly, in a larger, bolder hand: "Tell me what you know." The note was even completed with the hand-drawn image of a smiling face.

Bosie marched up the wide path to the door belonging to her note's recipient. She lifted her stance onto her tiptoes and reached her fist as high above her head as her reach would allow, then rapped on the door.

[Blood Ravenous]

The house was unfamiliarly quiet. A rustle of paper or the creaking of a chair split the silence every so often, but otherwise there was no sign of life. Then a woman picked up a pen, dipped it in ink, and began to write on the papers she was reviewing. The scratch of the pen did little to fill the anxious peace.

Ryxa did not spend all that much of her time in her own house, but when she was here, she expected to hear somebody moving about. The butler—what was his name? did it matter?—would come in every so often and annoy her with questions such as, “Do you want anything to drink?” or “Do you want anything to eat?” Then he would scurry away, either out of fear, or to do as commanded. And the little maid, cute in a way, used to make the floorboards above Ryxa’s head creak as she moved about, reminding Ryxa that she was not alone in the house.

A flash of seeing her lifeless corpse sitting at the kitchen table, wearing Ryxa’s dress, distracted Ryxa from her work. She slammed the pen down on the table, ignoring the spattering black ink that resulted, staining some of her papers. She leaned back, taking a deep breath, and pinched the bridge of her nose like she could squeeze the memory out of her head. Of course, it did nothing of the sort.

She had been working since this morning, once she got back from the Justice Hall. When possible, she avoided working in her assigned “office” there; it was drafty and small. She chose instead to bring her work home, which wasn’t exactly approved of. The battlemage didn’t see any problem with it, however, because if they really needed her there, the Porter could immediately contact her.

Her blue-black eyes went to the grandfather clock hidden amongst the bookshelves to seek the time. The reading didn’t seem appropriate, so she got up, stretching as she did so. She walked over to it and banged it seven times on the side. Immediately the hands swung forward wildly and resumed the correct time. Ryxa rolled her eyes at the gnomish piece of junk and walked into the other room. As she was wiping her ink-stained fingers on a washcloth, she heard knocking at the door.

A grimace etched her face at the sound. She would have to answer it. Nevermind the fact someone else should be doing that in the first place, but she was not sure she was looking forward to the upcoming conversation. The gnome that had approached her a couple days ago had barely spoken, except to arrange a date for some other gnome to come, and handing her a note. People asking to see her was a rare occurrence, but she had agreed readily without knowing the purpose, if only to get the stranger away from her and to liven her future boredom.

The note had been interesting, to put it mildly. She was glad she’d read it after the visitor had left, or she would have lost her cool in front of someone. On the note had been the name, “Affazezza”, paired with the word, “sorcery”. This name was little known among the general population, though government officials and those involved with the government would know it. But that hadn’t bothered her. What had made her eyes go wide and made her quickly burn the note to cinders were the words, “Tell me what you know.”

As a battlemage, she knew a lot more than many people did. As a high-ranking battlemage, she knew of things that would make the people riot in the streets if they heard about it. This was one of those things. The Judges were constantly grasping for more control, and Affazezza would be giving it to them.

Unlike many of her fellow battlemages she had overheard or discussed it with, she hated the idea of what Affazezza was trying to do. She was unafraid of voicing her dissent, and did it whenever it pleased her. However, words meant nothing, because if they had asked her to be the first test subject, she would do it at once, and they knew it. But this meeting, with someone she didn’t know—though, whose name she had vaguely recalled—was quite the opposite.

Armed with just a name, she’d spent much of yesterday finding out about this ‘Buoyansie’. She had a rather quaint position with the government, but from what she could learn she was a rather high-profile, important figure, for a gnome. It would be necessary for Ryxa to tread carefully.

As she moved to the door, taking her time, she glanced in the mirror first to make sure her makeup and hair was perfect. It was, so Ryxa went to and opened the door. Standing there was a very, very short person with shaggy hair and a round face. She blinked once, surprised, before very solemnly motioning inside and saying, “Come in.” Once her guest was inside and the door shut, she led the way to the parlor, which was pretty much just inside the front door to the right. As she led the way, she said, “Please excuse the state of things. I had to fire my servants, and am still currently looking for replacements.”

Once she was inside the parlor, she sat down in one of the ornate chairs arranged around the empty fireplace, smoothing down the wrinkles in her blue silk shirt and black wool pants. She said nothing, not even to any greeting offered, and waited for the other to offer anything interesting with her words.

[Bosie Vaporgate]

The gnome took Ryxa's invitation and let herself through the door and into the hall. She offered Ryxa her upturned face and a beady-eyed grin in return. The slowness of her indoor gait seemed somehow forced, as if it became a strain on her to maintain a baseline of politeness and not barrel through the unfamiliar house unrestrained.She let herself forward a few steps to better take in her surroundings.
Perhaps it was just a visual trick of perspective against Bosie's diminutive height, but she seemed to hardly bend her knees at all when she walked, instead marching forth with her toes kicking out an imaginary personal space with each upswing.

Bosie stopped in mid-step to turn her face up again and look Ryxa over. She twisted the right side of her mouth into an eager smile when the woman excused her appearance. Her gaze lingered on the wrinkles in her blouse. There were a few moments of hesitation as the gnome tried to settle on what type of speech to use in this situation, and apparently she eventually chose to speak informally.

"Aw, yeah, ya sure did, huh? Fire your servants, there?" Her voice was strident to match the boldness of its content. "Well, you'll muddle through somehow," she practically shouted. It was unclear whether her words were intend ironically or in earnest; she didn't seem to be given to subtlety, and yet her reputation would suggest she possessed a silver tongue for nuance.

At that point, Bosie decided to formally introduce herself. "Buoyansie Vaporgate!" she announced and thrust her right hand up and towards Ryxa, fingers fully extended to improve her reach just that much.

Once she considered herself properly introduced, she looked around for a place where Ryxa might invite her to sit. "You know," she spoke up as her mop-topped head pivoted around, "we both have titles and all, yeah? But we'd best not bother with all that, huh? Not in this situation. We're just going to have a chat." Bosie beamed a close-lipped smile at Ryxa that was not unlike the little cartoon smile she had drawn on her note.

"We'll have a little chat about that girl that's on everyone's minds, right, what's the name? Affazezza. Boy, she's an up-and-comer, huh?" Her enthusiasm had to be feigned, and yet it sounded rather authentic. Bosie raised her thin eyebrows up so that they disappeared beneath the raggedy fringe of her hair. She clapped her hands once in a climactic sort of way to indicate she was ready to move on to the matter at hand.

[Blood Ravenous]

Ryxa’s eyebrow twitched at the short woman’s loud indoor voice, but other than that she gave no indication of her annoyance. When the gnome thrust out her hand to be shaken, Ryxa took it loosely and gave it a little shake. She had to resist the urge to make the touch painful, perhaps by making Buoyansie think she’d stuck her hand in a fireplace. But that would not do for now. The thought made her smile, anyway, and it appeared as if she was smiling at Bosie. The smile was tight-lipped, more of a grimace really. She did not appear to be a person who smiled often.

Through her smile-grimace Ryxa said, “Ryxa,” as she nodded her head once in greeting, then let go of the hand she held. She had no need of a last name in her mind, and did not offer it freely; she hated her family, anyway.

As the greetings ended, the other woman abruptly referred to their mutual position in government (though the differences were vastly larger than the similarities), and then discarded it. Ryxa’s smile had faded by this point, but at this she smirked. Perhaps she would not mind this gnome after all. There was nothing worse than idle chitchat when things needed to be done, but it was a common characteristic of government officials to use this boring tactic. Not this one, however, much to Ryxa’s delight.

As Buoyansie continued to speak, Ryxa’s smirk remained plastered on her face. Affazezza. The name had been hovering about the Justice Hall lately, a name that spoken with Buoyansie’s mouth was rather harsh and loud, but coming from a secretive battlemage’s lips was barely discernable in the preternatural stillness of the morgue-like Justice Hall. Ryxa liked that metaphor, once she thought of it. The place would be better suited to dead bodies than the men who lurked there.

After the gnome’s ringing voice receded and the quiet home closed in around them, Ryxa leaned back in her chair and used the hand she shook hands with to wave at a chair. The other rested stiffly in her lap. “Please, sit,” she said politely. Her arm drooped over the arm of the chair once it’s task was complete. The proffered chair was as ornate as the rest of the furniture, burnished to a dark finish, and faced the fireplace, as did hers. As they spoke they would be forced to look at ashes in the grate at any given time. The emptiness there reminded her how chill the house was, but she ignored it for now.

Once Buoyansie was seated, she spoke. She followed the other’s lead and cut right to the crux of the matter. “This name is indeed familiar to me. You asked me for information about her. I have to know one thing first before this conversation goes deeper. Tell me how you heard of her.” It didn’t sound like a polite request for information; it sounded like an order.

[Bosie Vaporgate]

Buoyansie placed both hands firmly on the seat of the chair Ryxa had indicated and rather launched herself up into it. After a practiced bit of twisting, she settled on her hind end in the center of the seat that was built for a much larger body. With the palm of her right hand, she rubbed the elbow of her soft leather shirt, as if to polish her own body before applying her elbow to the armrest of the chair. The position she put herself in seemed a bit awkward, as her left arm was thus bent up at an angle that would appear more uncomfortable than leisurely. Bosie, however, appeared not at all put out; the cheekiness of her grin hinted that she even took pleasure in the sheer athleticism of fitting in with human society.

If the gnome noticed the managerial tone Ryxa took with her, she didn't seem to mind. The apples of her cheeks tightened as she stared at the cold fireplace for several moments, then she twisted her whole torso to face Ryxa where she sat.

"Oh, how'd I hear about her?" Bosie chirped. The offhand lilt of her voice could be insidiously disarming. She might have been merely confirming an inquiry about the weather. "You know, my sense of hearing is just unusually acute!"

She gave Ryxa a tight smile and paused a few beats for the intended humor to set in before she continued, actually running along the same facetious track. "But," she went on, "don'tcha know it, my spatial orientation leaves something to be desired. Sometimes I just overhear these things, and yet I can't for the life of me confirm the origin!" Thus, the other foot dropped. She was posturing, but beaming all the while, for the gnome was at heart a lawyer and a politician.

After waiting the few seconds she seemed to have planned, Bosie tossed her hair and gave a theatrical shrug of her awkwardly bent elbow. "Although, if you could tell me--oh, I don't know--when abouts you started hearing this name, how long these little words have been floating around . . . I might be able to figure out a little clearer just where I may have heard this. Definitely."

[Blood Ravenous]

Oh, how'd I hear about her? You know, my sense of hearing is just unusually acute!

the gnome said, pausing afterwards with a large smile. Ryxa stared back at her, face stone-cold. She was waiting for the punchline, which was sure to come. And it did.

But, don'tcha know it, my spatial orientation leaves something to be desired. Sometimes I just overhear these things, and yet I can't for the life of me confirm the origin!

Ryxa continued to stare, sensing something in the way Bosie paused that she was going to continue.

Although, if you could tell me--oh, I don't know--when abouts you started hearing this name, how long these little words have been floating around . . . I might be able to figure out a little clearer just where I may have heard this. Definitely.

“I see,” Ryxa replied, the only thing she had said in the last whole minute. Her body was as relaxed back into the chair, but her face was tight, belying her inner tension in a way her body did not. “I must admit, in a similar way you so graciously did, that I have a rather hard time keeping track of the passage of time.” Her bored, disinterested tone did not betray the fact that she lied. Ryxa was actually very particular about the date. “I do know this, however: when I first heard the name, I thought nothing of it. As you very well know, we have many people of 'talents' employed here in Marn. However, perhaps a few months later when I heard it, it stuck in my mind completely. Perhaps it was the same with you?” She gave a little pause here, but not enough time to answer.

“But no matter. Let us just say you overheard it. That is fine…for now.” Ryxa smile-grimaced again, though her eyes were very intense and somewhat angry. “Before we continue I would like to make a point of something. We both know what this is about, and we both know what talking about this means. I will have to insist that you speak of this”—she swept her hand around the room, including in the arc the chair where Bosie sat; however, she really meant to indicate herself—“to no one after today. If you can agree to that, you may ask your questions.”

[Bosie Vaporgate]

Bosie bit her lower lip beneath almost the entire upper row of her teeth and grinned at Ryxa; her eyes were glittering crescents. Although she was certainly a fully grown female, and time had begun to etch the marks of middle-age around the contours of her face, her teeth were small and pearly, like a child's. She looked as if she might bite, so gleeful was her toothy smile.

"Well sure, who am I goin'a tell?" She responded to Ryxa's request with a rhetorical question. Her voice was practically a shout, and she didn't seem to express the proper amount of self-consciousness over the way it echoed in the empty home. Bosie scratched her chin and mustered a sufficient toning-down of her grin before she went on.

She spoke loudly, but the stridency of her pitch was reined in. "Moving on!" Without permission, Bosie pulled her feet up onto the seat of her chair to sit cross-legged, the better to turn her posture to see Ryxa full-on. "I've got two children," she said, conspicuously fingering the leather pendant on her necklace. "Oh, you've met Myrna. Gorgeous girl, my Myrna. She's a work of art, let me tell you--she's a beautiful, exotic emerald of a creature, and she represents a bond between human and gnome. My boy too. They're, you know, half."

At this point Bosie paused to aim a self-contented smile at the fireplace. She glanced back at Ryxa for comprehension before she continued. "Couldn't be prouder of their heritage, my kids." The girl who had sought out Ryxa several days prior didn't seem particularly vibrant or proud, rather somehow slatternly; her mother's perception of her was clearly skewed.

"You see, though, there are some people who don't appreciate exotic things. They'd like to say 'Oh, see, but this is wrong to mix race, it's unnatural.' They'd even like to . . . say . . . get some sort of hard evidence to back up just what's so unnatural about it. Maybe even, say . . . label one person as more or less natural than another person."

The gnome paused a few moments after her weighted words and then grinned again. "So I guess you can understand now where I'm coming from on this subject!" she said in a lighter tone. "What am I worried about, though, right? Who could tell my Myrna is anything but a petite, beautiful human? . . . Well, who could tell. Am I right? Do you follow?"

Bosie folded her hands primly in her lap and turned back to look at the fireplace, her face composed about as calmly as she could manage.