SaDiablo Hall, Dhemlan Kaeleer, Late Sunday Afternoon (Fandom Time)
Part One
The front door slammed. Karla sauntered into the Hall, whistling and projecting ‘innocent’ with all the force that she could muster. She’d shoved her hands in her pockets and had adopted the blithe swagger of someone who had been behaving the entire day and hadn’t been outside trying a new Craft experiment. And most certainly had no knowledge of or responsibility for the new crater that was currently gouged in one of the Hall’s ornamental gardens.
Uncle Saetan was far too canny to be fooled by something like whistling, especially when he couldn’t actually see the blithe swagger at work. Saetan whistled a sharp command summoning her into a formal drawing room off the great hall. Odd. She nodded to Beale on her way in. There was no convenient mirror next to the drawing room, but there were several plants that apparently needed careful pruning.
A moment later, Karla stuck her head around the corner. "Kiss kiss," she said, giving Saetan and his guests her best ‘I didn’t do anything’ smile. She pointed toward the ceiling. "I'm late for my art lesson." Look how studious she was! Certainly not the kind of girl who had Craft backfire on her in a garden!
Uncle Saetan looked…impassive. But his lips were twitching and his golden eyes crinkled at the corners. This probably meant he knew that Karla’s innocent look forebode something that ought to scare him silly, but was hoping that if he were lucky enough, he might never have to know what she’d been up to. At her mention of the art lesson, he groaned quietly and massaged his temples.
"Please ask Jaenelle to come down. These gentlemen would like to see her."
Karla's ice-blue eyes swept over Magstrom and Friall. Ah. The sons of bitches the Dark Council had sent to pass judgment on Uncle Saetan. Her innocent expression changed to something harder. She thought she might have liked Lord Magstrom under different circumstances. A man in his twilight years, he had a kind face framed by a cloud of white hair and blue eyes that probably twinkled most of the time. Those eyes were serious now but not condemning. Lord Magstrom, at least, would make his decision based on his own integrity and honor.
Lord Friall, on the other hand, had already decided. Weedy-looking for all the hair cream and finery, he kept glancing around the room with distaste and dabbing his lips with a scented, lace-edged handkerchief. He looked like he was asking for a kick to the balls with Karla’s special boots. "Why?" She jerked her chin toward Lord Magstrom. "The grandfather looks harmless enough, but why would she want to talk to a fribble?"
Friall sputtered.
Lord Magstrom raised his cup to hide his smile.
Saetan looked like half his teeth were going to shatter. "Now."
"Oh, all right. Kiss kiss," Karla said, and withdrew. She had meant to close the door entirely, really she had, but it had somehow gotten caught on something, leaving it ever-so-slightly ajar. Oops.
Well, since she was here, she might as well help Beale with the plants. As an apology for the garden, of course.
*Uncle Saetan wants you,* Karla sent to Jaenelle on a distaff thread. *The Grand Inquisitors have arrived and wish your presence.* She let her distaste for Friall color the link.
*I see.* Jaenelle’s midnight voice was cold and forbidding, even across a psychic thread. *I’ll be there shortly.*
Yes, Lady, Karla sent back neutrally. Witch was not to be trifled with.
Inside the drawing room, the conversation was continuing. "Lady Karla is a friend of your ward?" Lord Magstrom asked mildly.
"Yes." Saetan sounded amused. "She and Jaenelle's other friends are staying with us for the summer-if I survive it."
"She's a little bitch," Friall sputtered. His words were a bit muffled-probably dabbing his lips with his handkerchief. "Hardly a suitable companion for your ward."
Bastard.
"Karla's a Queen and a natural Black Widow," Saetan said coldly, "as well as a Healer. She's an exuberant-but formidable-young lady. Like my daughter."
Clinking noises as more coffee was served. "Your . . . daughter ... is a Black Widow Queen? And a Healer as well?" Lord Magstrom asked, sounding surprised. Which, in turn, surprised Karla. Didn't the Council know who, and what, they were dealing with? Or had the Tribunal chosen not to tell these men?
It seemed Saetan shared her concern. "Yes," Saetan replied. "Didn't the Council mention it?"
Lord Magstrom sounded troubled. "No, they didn't. Perhaps-"
Whatever Magstrom said was lost as Karla scrambled up and pressed herself to the wall as a young wolf barreled down the hall, Mrs. Beale in pursuit. She let out a screech of rage that-from the sounds of things inside-made all three men jump. Both Beale and Karla did. The wolf bounded into the drawing room, trying to hide behind Uncle Saetan most likely, causing one of the males-Lord Friall, no doubt-to let out a girlish shriek of alarm.
"Now what have you done?" Uncle Saetan asked with a resigned sigh.
"I'll tell you what he's done." A red-faced woman filled the drawing room doorway. Karla peered in from behind Mrs. Beale’s bulk to watch the proceedings. No one would notice her, not with an angry Mrs. Beale in the way.
Friall whimpered.
The wolf whined.
Lord Magstrom stared.
Mrs. Beale wasn't fat. She was just . . .large. And she didn't need to use Craft to lift a fifty-pound sack of flour with one hand. Mrs. Beale pointed a finger at the wolf. "That walking muff just ate the chickens I was preparing for tonight's dinner."
Saetan looked down at the wolf. "Bad muff," he said mildly.
The wolf whined, but the tip of his tail dusted the floor.
Saetan sighed and turned his attention back to the huffing woman. "If there's no time to prepare more of our own, perhaps you could send someone to the butcher's in Halaway?"
Mrs. Beale huffed even more and said in a voice that rattled the windows, "Those chickens had been marinating in my special plum wine sauce since last night." Karla, safely shielded from her wrath by virtue of being hidden behind her, still ducked out of the way by instinct.
"Must have been tasty," Saetan murmured.
The wolf licked his chops and whuffed softly.
Mrs. Beale growled.
"What about a different meat?" Saetan said quickly. "I'm sure our young friend could find a couple of rabbits."
"Rabbits?" Mrs. Beale waved her hand, slicing the air in several directions. "I'm to fill rabbits with my nut and rice stuffing?"
"No, of course not. How foolish of me. A stew perhaps? I noticed last week that Jaenelle and Karla had second helpings of your stew." Karla perked back up. Mrs. Beal’s rabbit stew was delicious.
"Noticed myself that that serving dish had come back empty," Mrs. Beale muttered. She pointed at the wolf. "Two rabbits. And not scrawny ones either." She turned on her heel and stomped away, giving both Karla and Beale a glance as she stalked past. A thread of communication must have passed between them, as Beale nodded once in something like agreement.
Lord Magstrom signed gustily.
Lord Friall stumbled into his chair.
Saetan looked wobbly, as if the bones in his legs had turned to rubber. Karla was sympathetic; he’d probably been hoping that it wouldn’t be a typical day at SaDiablo Hall while the Dark Council’s representatives were here. He scratched the wolf behind the ears. "You understand?" He held up two fingers. "Two plump bunnies for Mrs. Beale. Tarl says there are plenty of them fattening themselves up in the vegetable garden." He gave the wolf a last scratch. "Off with you."
After nuzzling Saetan's hand, the wolf trotted out the door, kicking it closed behind him. Though, by some accident, he let his tail get caught between the door and the jamb, leaving it open just a bit.
He whuffed at Karla, pausing to lick her face. “Thank you,” she whispered, hugging him. Clearly it was a day for innocent faces, as he gave her a wolf-y approximation of the same before trotting down the hall.
"You let a woman like that work here when there are children in the house?" Friall sputtered. "And you keep a wolf for a pet?"
"Mrs. Beale is an excellent cook," Saetan replied mildly. "And the wolf isn't a pet. He's kindred. Several of them live with us. Another sandwich, Lord Magstrom?"
Besides, Karla added silently, who would have the balls to dismiss her?
(Part One of Two. NFB, NFI, OOC=pie. Adapted from chapter eight of Anne Bishop's Heir to the Shadows. Sorry up so late!)
The front door slammed. Karla sauntered into the Hall, whistling and projecting ‘innocent’ with all the force that she could muster. She’d shoved her hands in her pockets and had adopted the blithe swagger of someone who had been behaving the entire day and hadn’t been outside trying a new Craft experiment. And most certainly had no knowledge of or responsibility for the new crater that was currently gouged in one of the Hall’s ornamental gardens.
Uncle Saetan was far too canny to be fooled by something like whistling, especially when he couldn’t actually see the blithe swagger at work. Saetan whistled a sharp command summoning her into a formal drawing room off the great hall. Odd. She nodded to Beale on her way in. There was no convenient mirror next to the drawing room, but there were several plants that apparently needed careful pruning.
A moment later, Karla stuck her head around the corner. "Kiss kiss," she said, giving Saetan and his guests her best ‘I didn’t do anything’ smile. She pointed toward the ceiling. "I'm late for my art lesson." Look how studious she was! Certainly not the kind of girl who had Craft backfire on her in a garden!
Uncle Saetan looked…impassive. But his lips were twitching and his golden eyes crinkled at the corners. This probably meant he knew that Karla’s innocent look forebode something that ought to scare him silly, but was hoping that if he were lucky enough, he might never have to know what she’d been up to. At her mention of the art lesson, he groaned quietly and massaged his temples.
"Please ask Jaenelle to come down. These gentlemen would like to see her."
Karla's ice-blue eyes swept over Magstrom and Friall. Ah. The sons of bitches the Dark Council had sent to pass judgment on Uncle Saetan. Her innocent expression changed to something harder. She thought she might have liked Lord Magstrom under different circumstances. A man in his twilight years, he had a kind face framed by a cloud of white hair and blue eyes that probably twinkled most of the time. Those eyes were serious now but not condemning. Lord Magstrom, at least, would make his decision based on his own integrity and honor.
Lord Friall, on the other hand, had already decided. Weedy-looking for all the hair cream and finery, he kept glancing around the room with distaste and dabbing his lips with a scented, lace-edged handkerchief. He looked like he was asking for a kick to the balls with Karla’s special boots. "Why?" She jerked her chin toward Lord Magstrom. "The grandfather looks harmless enough, but why would she want to talk to a fribble?"
Friall sputtered.
Lord Magstrom raised his cup to hide his smile.
Saetan looked like half his teeth were going to shatter. "Now."
"Oh, all right. Kiss kiss," Karla said, and withdrew. She had meant to close the door entirely, really she had, but it had somehow gotten caught on something, leaving it ever-so-slightly ajar. Oops.
Well, since she was here, she might as well help Beale with the plants. As an apology for the garden, of course.
*Uncle Saetan wants you,* Karla sent to Jaenelle on a distaff thread. *The Grand Inquisitors have arrived and wish your presence.* She let her distaste for Friall color the link.
*I see.* Jaenelle’s midnight voice was cold and forbidding, even across a psychic thread. *I’ll be there shortly.*
Yes, Lady, Karla sent back neutrally. Witch was not to be trifled with.
Inside the drawing room, the conversation was continuing. "Lady Karla is a friend of your ward?" Lord Magstrom asked mildly.
"Yes." Saetan sounded amused. "She and Jaenelle's other friends are staying with us for the summer-if I survive it."
"She's a little bitch," Friall sputtered. His words were a bit muffled-probably dabbing his lips with his handkerchief. "Hardly a suitable companion for your ward."
Bastard.
"Karla's a Queen and a natural Black Widow," Saetan said coldly, "as well as a Healer. She's an exuberant-but formidable-young lady. Like my daughter."
Clinking noises as more coffee was served. "Your . . . daughter ... is a Black Widow Queen? And a Healer as well?" Lord Magstrom asked, sounding surprised. Which, in turn, surprised Karla. Didn't the Council know who, and what, they were dealing with? Or had the Tribunal chosen not to tell these men?
It seemed Saetan shared her concern. "Yes," Saetan replied. "Didn't the Council mention it?"
Lord Magstrom sounded troubled. "No, they didn't. Perhaps-"
Whatever Magstrom said was lost as Karla scrambled up and pressed herself to the wall as a young wolf barreled down the hall, Mrs. Beale in pursuit. She let out a screech of rage that-from the sounds of things inside-made all three men jump. Both Beale and Karla did. The wolf bounded into the drawing room, trying to hide behind Uncle Saetan most likely, causing one of the males-Lord Friall, no doubt-to let out a girlish shriek of alarm.
"Now what have you done?" Uncle Saetan asked with a resigned sigh.
"I'll tell you what he's done." A red-faced woman filled the drawing room doorway. Karla peered in from behind Mrs. Beale’s bulk to watch the proceedings. No one would notice her, not with an angry Mrs. Beale in the way.
Friall whimpered.
The wolf whined.
Lord Magstrom stared.
Mrs. Beale wasn't fat. She was just . . .large. And she didn't need to use Craft to lift a fifty-pound sack of flour with one hand. Mrs. Beale pointed a finger at the wolf. "That walking muff just ate the chickens I was preparing for tonight's dinner."
Saetan looked down at the wolf. "Bad muff," he said mildly.
The wolf whined, but the tip of his tail dusted the floor.
Saetan sighed and turned his attention back to the huffing woman. "If there's no time to prepare more of our own, perhaps you could send someone to the butcher's in Halaway?"
Mrs. Beale huffed even more and said in a voice that rattled the windows, "Those chickens had been marinating in my special plum wine sauce since last night." Karla, safely shielded from her wrath by virtue of being hidden behind her, still ducked out of the way by instinct.
"Must have been tasty," Saetan murmured.
The wolf licked his chops and whuffed softly.
Mrs. Beale growled.
"What about a different meat?" Saetan said quickly. "I'm sure our young friend could find a couple of rabbits."
"Rabbits?" Mrs. Beale waved her hand, slicing the air in several directions. "I'm to fill rabbits with my nut and rice stuffing?"
"No, of course not. How foolish of me. A stew perhaps? I noticed last week that Jaenelle and Karla had second helpings of your stew." Karla perked back up. Mrs. Beal’s rabbit stew was delicious.
"Noticed myself that that serving dish had come back empty," Mrs. Beale muttered. She pointed at the wolf. "Two rabbits. And not scrawny ones either." She turned on her heel and stomped away, giving both Karla and Beale a glance as she stalked past. A thread of communication must have passed between them, as Beale nodded once in something like agreement.
Lord Magstrom signed gustily.
Lord Friall stumbled into his chair.
Saetan looked wobbly, as if the bones in his legs had turned to rubber. Karla was sympathetic; he’d probably been hoping that it wouldn’t be a typical day at SaDiablo Hall while the Dark Council’s representatives were here. He scratched the wolf behind the ears. "You understand?" He held up two fingers. "Two plump bunnies for Mrs. Beale. Tarl says there are plenty of them fattening themselves up in the vegetable garden." He gave the wolf a last scratch. "Off with you."
After nuzzling Saetan's hand, the wolf trotted out the door, kicking it closed behind him. Though, by some accident, he let his tail get caught between the door and the jamb, leaving it open just a bit.
He whuffed at Karla, pausing to lick her face. “Thank you,” she whispered, hugging him. Clearly it was a day for innocent faces, as he gave her a wolf-y approximation of the same before trotting down the hall.
"You let a woman like that work here when there are children in the house?" Friall sputtered. "And you keep a wolf for a pet?"
"Mrs. Beale is an excellent cook," Saetan replied mildly. "And the wolf isn't a pet. He's kindred. Several of them live with us. Another sandwich, Lord Magstrom?"
Besides, Karla added silently, who would have the balls to dismiss her?
(Part One of Two. NFB, NFI, OOC=pie. Adapted from chapter eight of Anne Bishop's Heir to the Shadows. Sorry up so late!)