A party... or something
Blargh, more stuff that may go into something - or not... who knows? I find myself wishing I could just write linearly from start to finish. Le Sigh.
~
Mirra tugged at the hem of her over tunic, trying to keep it settled properly, it was too wide across the shoulders but otherwise a fine garment despite it being one of Joss's old castoffs. Gorroth had swept into the house late in the afternoon declaring that he would be attending a banquet in the evening and that both Joss and Mirra would attend as well - with his niece properly attired as his apprentice. The scramble for suitable clothes had not left time to alter them to fit Mirra's slender frame.
She wanted to squirm uncomfortably but satisfied herself by fidgeting with the tunic instead. More than anything she wanted to fade into the background, but her uncle had made that impossible; she found herself in a curious and uncomfortable state of being obvious and recognizable, yet mostly ignored. She stood out brazenly from the other women in attendance just by her tunic, trousers and utter lack of finery. Her attempt at mingling with them had been snubbed. Either a mere apprentice was too far beneath their notice or they'd heard her story and a bastard niece of dubious parentage was not welcome in their ranks. In truth, those pampered creatures were more alien to her than the men with their talk of politics and idle pastimes.
She'd lost track of Gorroth and his apprentice after the meal dissolved into social mingling. For the most part she was ignored; she was too young for courting and not properly dressed to be show off in that regard. As she wandered from group to group, Mirra tanked her uncle for his insistence on being attired as something other than a fine lady. More than a few of the conversations seemed to be bidding over dowries and family alliances. She also began to understand why Gorroth brought her. Joss had been trying to teach her about the social circles that were playing out in front of her and how to move amongst them. The simple court graces and etiquette were easy enough to understand but the rest made little sense without context. Now she could watch it all in motion from a position of relative invisibility.
"You must be Master Kyldather's new apprentice," Mirra turned to the voice. "His niece, if I recall correctly. You must be something special; he forswore taking any more apprentices after the last."
"I would not say I am anything special, m'lord," Mirra said, measuring her words to minimize her outer city accent.
"Modesty," the man smiled. "My apprentices could do with more of it."
Mirra studied him quickly; he was a mage of course, Mirra doubted clergy or scholars would wear robes as ornate as his; fine dark brown and blue cloth with silver stitching and embroidery, gold jewelry and no house crest she could see. He had status and wealth - and tried to flaunt it, but both only came from his patronage. He was a court mage, she was sure of it. Maybe Joss's lessons had been more effective than she thought.
"Could you point towards your uncle? I have not been able to locate him in," he gestured to the gathering as a whole, "all this."
"I haven't seen him since he met with Lord Mycanth."
The mage's frown was replaced by the same bland expression he had been wearing so quickly Mirra was not sure she had seen it at all.
"I suppose I shall have to wait for him to return from his private chat then. We could keep each other company until then. I am Master Vorstrel, a - colleague of your uncle."
"This sort of fancy to-do isn't my element, I'm afraid," Mirra said.
"Nor mine," the mage said smoothly.
Mirra felt herself bristling at the obvious lie.
"Did your uncle tell you the purpose of this party, beyond the obvious, that is?"
Mirra considered for a moment, "Seems more about politicking than some lordling's betrothal."
She glanced at the head of the hall, where Lord Darsinth's son and the future Lady Darsinth were receiving well wishers and betrothal gifts. Their cheerfulness seemed tired and a little strained.
"Very astute," Vorstrel graced her with a smile. "Modest, observant and intelligent; such precious commodities in today's youth - your uncle is graced, truly."
Mirra felt herself prickling at the flattery.
'They will try to cultivate you,' Joss had said. 'You are just an apprentice, true; but you are also Gorroth's niece - more than being a mage, he has wealth and influence, others will try to wheedle their way into your good graces and use you to get at your uncle - either to gain his favor, or to attack him.'
It seemed ridiculous to her. She hardly saw her uncle, much less spoke to him. What possible use could she be in that capacity? The intrigue and politicking Joss had been laboring to teach her made Mirra's head hurt. The street was simpler - more brutal perhaps, but simpler. In this gilded world, nothing was simple, nothing direct. It was all slight of hand that would impress a master street conjurer - or a thief. Mirra was certain she wanted nothing to do with it.
~
~
Mirra tugged at the hem of her over tunic, trying to keep it settled properly, it was too wide across the shoulders but otherwise a fine garment despite it being one of Joss's old castoffs. Gorroth had swept into the house late in the afternoon declaring that he would be attending a banquet in the evening and that both Joss and Mirra would attend as well - with his niece properly attired as his apprentice. The scramble for suitable clothes had not left time to alter them to fit Mirra's slender frame.
She wanted to squirm uncomfortably but satisfied herself by fidgeting with the tunic instead. More than anything she wanted to fade into the background, but her uncle had made that impossible; she found herself in a curious and uncomfortable state of being obvious and recognizable, yet mostly ignored. She stood out brazenly from the other women in attendance just by her tunic, trousers and utter lack of finery. Her attempt at mingling with them had been snubbed. Either a mere apprentice was too far beneath their notice or they'd heard her story and a bastard niece of dubious parentage was not welcome in their ranks. In truth, those pampered creatures were more alien to her than the men with their talk of politics and idle pastimes.
She'd lost track of Gorroth and his apprentice after the meal dissolved into social mingling. For the most part she was ignored; she was too young for courting and not properly dressed to be show off in that regard. As she wandered from group to group, Mirra tanked her uncle for his insistence on being attired as something other than a fine lady. More than a few of the conversations seemed to be bidding over dowries and family alliances. She also began to understand why Gorroth brought her. Joss had been trying to teach her about the social circles that were playing out in front of her and how to move amongst them. The simple court graces and etiquette were easy enough to understand but the rest made little sense without context. Now she could watch it all in motion from a position of relative invisibility.
"You must be Master Kyldather's new apprentice," Mirra turned to the voice. "His niece, if I recall correctly. You must be something special; he forswore taking any more apprentices after the last."
"I would not say I am anything special, m'lord," Mirra said, measuring her words to minimize her outer city accent.
"Modesty," the man smiled. "My apprentices could do with more of it."
Mirra studied him quickly; he was a mage of course, Mirra doubted clergy or scholars would wear robes as ornate as his; fine dark brown and blue cloth with silver stitching and embroidery, gold jewelry and no house crest she could see. He had status and wealth - and tried to flaunt it, but both only came from his patronage. He was a court mage, she was sure of it. Maybe Joss's lessons had been more effective than she thought.
"Could you point towards your uncle? I have not been able to locate him in," he gestured to the gathering as a whole, "all this."
"I haven't seen him since he met with Lord Mycanth."
The mage's frown was replaced by the same bland expression he had been wearing so quickly Mirra was not sure she had seen it at all.
"I suppose I shall have to wait for him to return from his private chat then. We could keep each other company until then. I am Master Vorstrel, a - colleague of your uncle."
"This sort of fancy to-do isn't my element, I'm afraid," Mirra said.
"Nor mine," the mage said smoothly.
Mirra felt herself bristling at the obvious lie.
"Did your uncle tell you the purpose of this party, beyond the obvious, that is?"
Mirra considered for a moment, "Seems more about politicking than some lordling's betrothal."
She glanced at the head of the hall, where Lord Darsinth's son and the future Lady Darsinth were receiving well wishers and betrothal gifts. Their cheerfulness seemed tired and a little strained.
"Very astute," Vorstrel graced her with a smile. "Modest, observant and intelligent; such precious commodities in today's youth - your uncle is graced, truly."
Mirra felt herself prickling at the flattery.
'They will try to cultivate you,' Joss had said. 'You are just an apprentice, true; but you are also Gorroth's niece - more than being a mage, he has wealth and influence, others will try to wheedle their way into your good graces and use you to get at your uncle - either to gain his favor, or to attack him.'
It seemed ridiculous to her. She hardly saw her uncle, much less spoke to him. What possible use could she be in that capacity? The intrigue and politicking Joss had been laboring to teach her made Mirra's head hurt. The street was simpler - more brutal perhaps, but simpler. In this gilded world, nothing was simple, nothing direct. It was all slight of hand that would impress a master street conjurer - or a thief. Mirra was certain she wanted nothing to do with it.
~