A Trip to the Country

[Aura Thesin]

Aura stood, pulling the chair off the edge of the carpet and stepping off so Breda could lift the edge. She blinked in surprise at the revealed portion of a trapdoor, complete with a handle. Her following worried frown showed her thoughts about that.

For some reason, the discovery of the trapdoor bothered Aura. She had been living in Marn for many months, coming to this cabin every few days during that time, and had never known of this trapdoor. Most cellars she was familiar with had an upright door and stairs, either in the house, or outside; the only ones she knew that had horizontal doors were also outside, and not hidden. This discovery of what she though of as a secret cellar made her feel violated.

When Breda looked to her and spoke, Aura bit her bottom lip. She didn't really want to see what was down there, but it seemed there was little choice if she wished to continue coming to this cabin. She glanced over to the backpack with all of their traveling items in it, leaned against the bed where she had left it. She nodded to Breda, and, without saying another word, began to move the table and chairs off the carpet so they could fully reveal the trapdoor.

[Breda Dreaughan]

Breda felt sorry, seeing Aura's obvious and understandable distress. She almost wished she hadn't said anything.

"Could be someone homeless," she said as the two women moved the furniture off the rug. "Someone who prefers to stay underground rather than in the cottage itself." She knew she didn't sound too convincing, but she felt she had to say something to make the situation sound less grim.

Once fully revealed, the hatch opened easily on well-maintained hinges. The daylight coming from the windows revealed sturdy wooden stairs leading down. Breda returned to the armchair and lit the half-burned candle.

"Unless the cellar is being used by someone who has no need for eyes, there's probably lanterns down there," she said as she returned to Aura. She could feel that the space below was large, possibly larger than the cottage itself.

"Want to go first?"

[Aura Thesin]

Aura was already moving when Breda offered to let the young monk go first. She reached to the table, grabbing a small oil lamp, then to the small metal fireplace on the opposite side of the trap door. She used flint and steel to put a small spark into the tinder she had left in the fireplace the last time she was here, then threw some small sticks on to keep the fire small, but burning. Taking one of the sticks, she lit the oil lamp, turned it up to full, and moved back to the trap door.

Looking once at Breda, she took a deep breath, then started down the stairs. The light from the lamp barely illuminated the far side of the cellar, which was much larger than the cabin above. If she had had to guess, she would have said the cellar covered the entire area of the clearing above.

And then there were the machines! She hadn't seen this many machines together before, and she had no idea what any of them did. Who would have so many machines in a secret cellar under a small cabin in a clearing in the middle of the woods?!

Aura glanced back up the stairs at Breda, the relief evident in her voice, though she still spoke worriedly. "There's no one down here, Breda, but you should come see this place."

Aura turned back to marvel at the machines again, but as interesting as it was, a small feeling of dread had sunk deep into the pit of her stomach. Somehow, she knew everything was about to change.

[Breda Dreaughan]

Despite Aura's reassurance, Breda sneaked down carefully. Descending into the large, dark, and chilly space felt like entering a church. Upon seeing the machines, she froze in her steps. "What in the Changers' name…" What ever she had expected, it certainly wasn't this.

She carefully approached the machine closest to the stairs. It was a complex combination of metal and wood, unlike anything the dwarf had seen before. Yet some of the metal parts looked vaguely familiar. She ran her hand along the structure. Yes, she had definitely seen Master Vondan working on the same parts. Not that it really mattered; the blacksmith seldom expressed interest in what his more eccentric customers planned to do with their commissions, as long as they weren't obviously illegal.

"It seems to be a clamp or a press of some sort," she said, after examining the machine for a while. "Although it's bigger than any I've seen. Could be some sort of gnome thing, but it seems to be too tall for a gnome to use."

And then there was the sound. A soft creak of the floorboards above, followed by the even softer sound of metal sliding against leather. "There's someone upstairs," Breda whispered, grasping the hilt of her dagger. "Careful. Don't attack anyone unless they attack you."

[Paragon]

The day was bright and cheery, which made holding a grudge difficult. Rivos managed it will enough, having only to look at his two companions as they strode through the woods to relive the scolding he'd received late the previous night. Rivos was a right good paperman, having penned near half the articles for Paragon and a hand in editing the rest. His opinion was valued by the chief editor, and his instincts were near always spot on, which was why he was second only to the editor. It was also why his suggestions always made it into print. Except last night.

It wasn't that his editor, Fiordeliosi, had disagreed with him. It was the way he'd done it -- in front of junior prinstman Balut and the gnomish machiner Vulkovich, the same two he traveled with -- publicly and with a finality typically reserved for very junior workmen. The attitude was not like Fiordeliosi, which meant Things were happening up past Rivos' knowing, and that made him cranky.

The game was changing, and in Rivos' line of work lack of communication meant someone was being set up to hang.

And then the cabin. It was obvious their little bird had returned to nest by the disarray in the upstairs, and Rivos supposed the time was due for a confrontation. He was in the mood for one. He motioned Vulkovich to stay by the door; the gnome was scornful of fighting and had no practical experience in violence. Balut, however, was a cheerful sort of brawler, and he pulled a knife without much thought. That the knife was the type of useful tool created to sharpen quills and coerce finicky press machines to cooperate did not seem to dampen his enthusiasm.

Rivos moved to the edge of the stairs. "Well then, trespasser, I reckon we should have a look at you. Up you come, easy, nothing foolish. I've not the frame of mind to be cleaning blood off my nice wooden floor today."

[Aura Thesin]

Aura slipped easily in front of Breda, putting herself between the smaller, pregnant woman and anyone who might come down the stairs. After a few moments in which there was no sound, a voice emanated from the top of the stairs, drifting down to reach them.

Well then, trespasser, I reckon we should have a look at you. Up you come, easy, nothing foolish. I've not the frame of mind to be cleaning blood off my nice wooden floor today.

The casual way in which the person spoke of blood sent a shudder through Aura, followed by another when she realized that the tone and inflection of the voice indicated that at least this person had known she came here frequently.

Turning to look at Breda, Aura held a hand up and mouthed for the dwarf to stay where she was. She began walking towards the stairs, pausing at the bottom and taking a deep breath. She slowly climbed the stairs, hands out from her sides to show she was unarmed, but remaining on the balls of her feet as she reached the top. Her eyes took in the man directly before her, far enough away for him to feel safe. Letting her gaze wander, she turned her head, noting the smaller man by the door, somewhat smaller than Breda, and the other man casually handling a knife to on the opposite side.

She stood there and waited, knowing that there was little she could do if these men wanted to turn her in to the authorities. The discovery of the printing press downstairs made her think of something illegal happening, but she couldn't be positive. If that were true, as possibly indicated by the man toying with the knife to her left, then these men may not risk turning her in to the authorities, but may instead practice their own form of justice.

So she waited, not saying anything, for the men to make the decision. All she knew was that she wouldn't leave Breda to fend for herself.

[Breda Dreaughan]

Breda was vaguely aware that it was generally considered a good idea to stay still when told so by one's more able companion. But the man's tone was so frustrating! Breda had sympathized with Aura's love towards the little cabin - for she knew what it was like, not having a place to call your own - and now these strangers had waltzed in without so much as acknowledging the fact that Aura, too, considered the place a home.

The dwarf climbed the stairs, stopping a couple of steps before the ground level. From there, she could see the first man. A human, radiating arrogance and self-satisfaction. Vaguely familiar too, and most likely not from the smithy. Not that it would be a problem for Breda; the people who had become familiar with the revealingly clad prostitute with heavy make-up and complicated hairdos, seldom gave a second glance to the pregnant blacksmith's apprentice in plain clothes.

She glared at the first man. "Your nice wooden floor, eh?" Her voice was low, almost growling. "I wonder what it is that you do down there, in your little underground factory."

It occurred to Breda that if she asked for trouble, it would be Aura who would have to duck the first blow, so she closed her mouth. Having seen what Aura was capable of, she was fairly confident that the young monk would be able to deal with one man, even if he was trained. But from where she was standing, Breda couldn't see the other two, and that made her feel both annoyed and worried.

[Paragon]

The corners of Rivos' lips deepened in a not unpleasant expression as Aura revealed herself. He let the silence stretch, such as it was, until a second woman charged up the stairs like an angry bull. In the wake of those words, Rivos remained silent. A half-smile, indulgent and condescending, was what he greeted Breda with.

"Make sure they haven't mishandled my babies. Women, always meddling. Who knows what they've done," Vulkovich said, having taken a few steps forward from the doorway once Breda had spoken, as if the thought of two intruders was simply too much to bear. Even he had a temper regarding his machines, and it showed. His fists were clenched and raised in front of his body in a helpless sort of angry anxiety, a stance which Balut noticed and tittered at.

"Why would they?" Balut sheathed his knife awkwardly, his tone dismissive. "Just a couple of reckless broads."
"Or spies. It is entirely within the realm of possibility that they have not been the ones using this place as home. Even if they are, they might have backup." Vulkovich turned to look at the door accusingly.
"Nah," Balut said.

Rivos raised an eyebrow.

[Breda Dreaughan]

After some ninety years of experience, condescension and disregard didn't stun Breda. Her attention was drawn to the gnome. So the machines in the cellar were indeed a gnome thing. Well, Breda was learning to know this type.

The two women exchanged a few brief whispers, then Breda stepped forward. Aura remained alert, as if constantly ready to spring.

Ignoring the comments of the human men, she glanced contemptuously at the gnome. "Don't worry, little one. I wouldn't dream of damaging anything created by my master. Now, the broad would like to know who you think you are, marching in here and making demands."

[Paragon]

Vulkovich radiated a contrasting disdain of his own that was built upon the bricks of affluence and smeared with a vain and intellectual mortar. He did not make grand gestures, but all the same the feel of it suffused the air around him as he took a few steps forward, and then a few steps more. He was ever drawn to machinery and mechanical ingenuity; others existed only as the pathway of flesh that conducted him from first one job to another. It should have been ridiculous that so much seriousness was packed within the small bodies of gnomekind, but in his own personal disarray Vulkovich seemed more a sad, pathetic figure.

Rivos held out a hand, low to the side, to stay the gnome from his apparent intentions to act as a battering ram through the women. He was shorter even than the dwarf, for all of his vibrating intensity.

"They are inferior! They have touched something, I know it!" Vulkovich's passion slowly filled his face with a blotchy red, and he knocked Rivos' hand away with a violent fling of his own.

It was amazing, Rivos thought, how that small hand was so finely shaped as an adult's, but the size of a human's child. It was amazing any gnome might expect to be taken seriously, when they were a miniature of the other races, and so prone to combustible attitudes.

"You are on a contract, lest you forget, and you are trespassing," Rivos said with a pleasant serenity, looking at Breda as though she was the afterthought. "While I trust you understand our need for security, and the need for posturing, it would hardly do for me to upset a pregnant woman, especially as the indignation shown would not preclude innocence from any wrongdoing. Please, sit. If you are indeed innocent and reasonable, we should be able to discuss this calmly without threats."

"You don't understand," Vulkovich muttered with no small amount of poisonous hostility in his voice that would have done any small and brilliant treefrog proud.

[Breda Dreaughan]

So the hint towards master was wasted. The gnome was too preoccupied to be reasoned with. Apparently the women had no choice but to deal directly with the oily human, despite his unpleasant demeanor.

She glared at the man. "You claim ownership of this place, fine. We have no demands regarding the cellar anyway. And we definitely haven't broken anything." She folded her arms. "Obviously you're doing something sketchy down there, otherwise you wouldn't have hidden it so well. But you don't need to worry about that either. We know sketchy." I know, anyway. Aura probably doesn't.

She considered turning down the request to sit, but decided otherwise The third man still had the knife. By wordless agreement, Aura and Breda went to sit on the bed. If the men decided to sit as well, they'd better place their backsides somewhere else.

"Well then," Breda said calmly. "Talk."

[Paragon]

As Breda and Aura went to the bed, Vulkovich dashed around Rivos and down into the depths of the basement. Rivos watched him go with a rueful smile, while Balut snorted and chuckled openly. The crippled man went to the doorway, closing it with his single hand and leaning casually against it. Rivos hadn't thought to close it, but given how their conversation might twist and dive it was likely the smart way of things. One never knew who was lurking about.

Rivos was focused upon the two women. Neither he nor Balut chose to sit, though Rivos did move to stand before the two women, careful to not penetrate personal space as he did so. No, he was merely cautious; an air of intimacy and camradarie could be established by speaking near to another person, but it would be ruined if a resulting discomfort came about from the attempt.

Rivos enjoyed games. He'd enjoyed the prospect of someone living in the little cabin, of the secrets that must be kept by such a person, and the secrets within secrets he himself kept. He had enjoyed the thought of such a confrontation, of discovery and the keen edge he himself risked by not rooting them out as Balut had often suggested. His employers did not know the cabin had been occupied. Rivos had sewn trust within the two men he brought with him to the printing presses, and so far he had expectations of a fine harvest.

Body language was an art, and Rivos was much practiced in its use. He did not relax completely in the presence of the two women; he was not a fool, and had no particular use to appear a fool in this match. But, in his carefully arranged proximity to the women there was a hint of sharing secrets, doubled by the way he clasped his hands loosely, almost but not quite disguising the tension that ran through him.

When he spoke, he spoke with the quiet of one indulging in the forbidden, of sharing things not meant to be shared with just anyone. His face was a study of earnestness and distrust; a man who had something he desperately wanted to offload from his chest, but feared to do so.

"Tell me, what have you heard of the Vitiable Paragon?"

[Breda Dreaughan]

Breda wasn't entirely unfamiliar with this form of art either. You didn't survive on the streets if you were, and you certainly didn't make it as a prostitute. She was getting tired now, though, as the adrenalin was wearing off. It was getting difficult to tell an acquired habit from a blatant lie. The man was obviously a player, and Breda suspected that Aura wasn't exactly an expert of the game. The young monk could read her opponent in a fight brilliantly, but Breda doubted she'd learned this side of the game in the monastery. So Breda remained reserved, trying not to appear too protective towards Aura. Better the man thought they were both perfectly able to hold their ground.

What the man said next, caught them both by surprise. The Vitiable Paragon?
"It's a… newspaper." Aura said hesitantly after the two women had exchanged a look. "An underground newspaper."
Breda nodded, and then shot a glance towards the stairs. So the machines would be some kind of printing presses. It hadn't occurred to the dwarf that it would take something so sturdy to leave a mark on something as delicate as paper. It would, however, explain master Vondan's involvement. The old smith wouldn't partake in something openly illegal, but he would be supportive of those siding with the underdogs of the society. And master Vondan had previously read selected bits of the Vitiable Paragon to his barely literate apprentice, so he certainly knew what it was about.

Breda turned her eyes back to the man. "So you're some sort of… freedom fighters?" Disbelief flickered in her eyes. Weren't revolutionaries supposed to be young, fair men with blazing eyes and trembling voices? There had been a few of that sort in her old clientele: bohemian types, always very passionate, always talking about the injustice in the society and treating the girls with respectful sympathy. Quite often the girls had laughed at them afterwards.

Well, supposedly the foreman could be inspirational when he wanted to, and he certainly seemed earnest now. And frankly, the bohemians at the brothel had never gotten anything done. These men, at least, had a press.

[Paragon]

Freedom fighters. Rivos smiled hesitantly, but there was a genuine spark of excitement that lit in his eyes. "The people in Marn are not slaves, not particularly, nor captives of any kind --"
"'Cept by being dirt poor," Balut interjected, and there was a darkness in him to rival the brightness in Rivos.
"I was getting to that. There are no active bonds laid upon the people of Marn and Shim, and that is the problem. The beast is subtle, but terrible all the same. The government has its secrets, and its laws, and both are enforced with a rigidity that has slowly driven Marn down. Merchant caravans don't like to come through here."
"Who would? Shithole," Balut muttered.
Rivos slid him an irritated glance, and continued as if he hadn't heard the other man. "But they used to. It's just not profitable. The wealth in Marn is starting to leave. Crime rates go up every year, and we rarely hear of preventative measures. Then you must consider: anyone who is suspected of magic or even touches upon a sore spot for the government . . ." Rivos lifted his hands palm up.
"'Tsaid there's dungeons, under Justice Hall. Where they put people to die once they're disappeared."
"Quite. And the criminals? Whether they are caught or not we are unaware, but they continue unabated. What was the name of the last inn to go under?"
"Th'Ripened Vine."
"Yes, they'd been in Marn for years. Their inn was destroyed, and the building remains ruined and the owners are simply gone. Likely they left, but who can truly say what has happened. And that is not counting the taverns and other phenomena."

Rivos tapped his chin with a long finger. "The Paragon is determined to arm the citizens with knowledge and truth. Far more than those rags sponsored by the government."
"They do like t'spin what happens, eh?" Balut tucked his stump under his opposing elbow, mouth working as though he'd tasted something sour.
"They'd dearly love to shut us down. That is why we were prepared to fight, you see."

[Breda Dreaughan]

There was quite a long silence after the men had finished. What went through Aura's head, Breda couldn't tell. She was too preoccupied by her own thoughts. Of course she knew all about being dirt poor, all about the disappearances, all about the crime… That had been her only life for decades. But to rise against it? That was something that had never even been suggested in the back alleys of Shanty Town. It would have been like rebelling against the sunrise. When she'd first heard about such ideas from her old customers, she had laughed.

She didn't feel like laughing at these men. Suddenly the bad first impression actually made her believe them. Of course they'd been ready to fight. Of course they were angry, bitter, even deceptive. This was not a game, not something to rail about to boost one's self image. This was real, and this was dangerous.

Breda glanced towards the stairs again. "So… you think knowledge and truth are weapons enough?" Her tone was hesitant. "You think that'll achieve something real?"

She felt unreal. Was this actually happening?