Ashencroft

Chapter 3

Ales would be ungracious to blame Ashencroft's current economic state for her boredom. In honesty, she hadn't been overly stimulated before the seige. It was the fate of a Councilman's daughter, she supposed, to have nothing practical expected of her, and this was particularly true of Ales, whose father, wishing only to protect her, had succeeded in cocooning her in a cotton wool ball of privelege.

Today, like any other day, she was on the veranda, enjoying the short spell of midday sun, and practicing her lute, though this was a frustrating exercise as the metal strings cut sorely into her fingertips, and seemed much stiffer with passing days. She fought of the unpleasant sensation in her belly that warned that this was a sign of her failing strength.

The occasional glances of passers-by on the street below made it clear that Ales' music could be heard below, but no one stopped to enjoy it. They were all too intent on their tasks, hurrying this way and that to keep their minds off of more dire occupations.

That is, except Ryle. With nowhere particular to be and nothing particular to do, he was free to stand under the veranda and listen to the music wafting down from above. At a pause in the song he stepped back, shading his eyes and calling up to whoever was playing, "Hey! Nice song you have there!"

Ales's right hand played an open chord as she shaded her eyes with her left, looking down at the young man beneath her. "Oh, it's you," she said in a voice that was only half in jest.

Grinning, Ryle started to scramble up the hillside, grabbing onto roots and branches to help himself up.

Rolling her eyes, Ales went back to playing, waiting for him to reach the top before looking up at him. "You got dirt on your tunic."

"Good, maybe it'll cover up the shit stains," Ryle joked, brushing himself off as he moved to perch precariously on the railing. "Afternoon, Ales. You're looking well."

"No I'm not."

"Better than most, at least. How's your father?"

"As well as can be expected."

"Aren't we all?" he quipped.

Ales glanced up at Ryle with an expression that was less than impressed. "It's not funny, Ryle."

"Are you kidding? It's hilarious. I can just imagine our epitaphs... "They Died Smiling, Their Bellies Bloated, What a Stench, But at Least They Floated"!" The young man smirked and swung his feet. "Tell me that doesn't put a grin on your face."

Ales made a face. "That does not put a grin on my face."

"Well, what would you know? You're painfully ignorant in the ways of humor."

"And you're painfully ignorant in the ways of tact. I suppose we're even."

"I suppose we are! Handy, that. And speaking of handy, what were you playing just now? It was lovely."

"It was something I'm working on; it doesn't have a name yet."

"Why don't you call it 'Ode to a Dying City'? That has a nice ring to it."

"Ryle..."

"Oh, stop complaining. You'll outlast most of us, anyway. I haven't eaten in two days!" he declared, flinging his arms out and nearly topping backward over the railing.

"Ryle!" Ales almost dropped her lute in her rush to the railing to catch Ryle's arm, though he'd caught his balance by the time she did. "Don't scare me like that."

"No... wouldn't want to do that," the young man said with a mock-lecherous grin, leaning in closer to Ales.

Ales's grim expression remained for a moment before her countenance crumbled, and she dipped her head to rest it on Ryle's shoulder, her eyes closing. "Please, Ry," she murmured, fingers still wrapped tightly around Ryle's arm. "Can't you ever be serious..."

With a sigh, Ryle lifted his other hand to Ales's shoulder, patting it a bit awkwardly. "I'm sorry, all right? It's just that being serious doesn't seem to be helping things any at the moment. I thought you liked it when I joked around."

"Not today. I'm just not in the mood." Alex drew back with a tight smile. "Sorry, Ry. Didn't mean to seem to ungrateful."

"Aw, that's all right," the blond boy said with a grin, reaching out to chuck Ales's chin. "For a rich girl you're still pretty grateful."

Ales rolled her eyes. "Well, for a 'poor' boy you're pretty insolent."

"Would you have it any other way? Besides, just think of the scandal when your father finds out you've been consorting with a poor, starving out-of-work actor. It would be delicious."

"I wouldn't call what we do consorting."

"Entirely your fault, I assure you. I would be more than happy to consort with you in any manner you deem necessary."

"You know that we- well, of course you do." Ales pulled back a little further, her hand sliding down Ryle's to squeeze his fingers before letting go altogether.

With another world-weary sigh Ryle hung his head, slipping off the railing and pivoting on his heel to look out at the city below them. "Well do I know the arbitrary limitations placed upon me by my unfortunate station in society. This is not the first nor the last injustice I will ever face in my short, poor, miserable life."

Now Ales couldn't help but chuckle. "Ry, you know it's not that. Not to stifle your tortured artiste routine, but when have I ever done what a woman of my station should? And when has father ever made me? He's a good man; he just wants me to be happy." The young woman sighed. "I only wish I knew myself how to do that."

"Now who's the tortured artiste, eh? It's not that hard to be happy, Ales."

"Tell me how."

"Eat, drink, and be merry?"

"Very funny."

Ryle shrugged. "I don't see what there is about life that isn't to be enjoyed. If you do what you like so often, why don't you enjoy it?"

Ales sighed, turning and stalking back to her seat. "Because I don't actually know what I want. I don't know, Ry. I just feel like I'm missing something. And I don't just mean three square meals."

"Well, look on the bright side. Even if you don't figure it out soon enough, you won't have to live in misery forever. That should count for something, eh?"

Ales mustered up a weak chuckle, slumping back in her chair a little and crossing her legs beneath her loose tunic.

Turning back to watch her, Ryle frowned, slipping his hands into his empty pockets. "I'll come by and visit you tomorrow, how's that? Ought to give you something to look forward to."

"All right, then. Don't if you're weak, though." Ales paused, chewing her lower lip. "Actually, no, do come by. I'll save you some dinner."

"And here I would've done it for a smile."

At this quip, Ryle was rewarded with just that, albeit a small one. "Get on with you, you big lump."

With a smart salute, the young man climbed over the railing, disappearing from sight almost immediately and half-sliding, half-walking his way down to the street once more. He was rewarded by the sounds of Ales's lute as he headed away and began to whistle along to the tune.

Not too long after Ryle departed Ales heard a knock at the front door, though it was very faint. Normally one of the servants would have answered, but as they were all sent away, there was nothing for the girl to do but answer it herself.

Leaving her lute in the front room rather than out on the veranda, Ales pulled a deep russet robe on over her short tunic, though she left it hanging open. No point in ceremony these days... The main door was to the side of the building, the villa effectively having two facades - the long veranda facing out across the city, and the shorter end with another more shaded terrace facing the villa's front path and private gardens. It was to this side that Ales walked, around the side of the house rather than through it, to greet her visitor.

The young man that waited for her was as different from Ryle as night from day. His sleek brown hair was tied back in a queue, unlike the other boy's messy blond mop, and his clothes were neat and well-fitted. The only similarity between the two was the piercing nature of their eyes, though Ryle's were a light blue where the stranger's were a startling shade of amber.

He gave a small bow when he spotted Ales coming around the corner, straightening afterwards to watch her approach. "The music has stopped; I hope I have not interrupted you, miss."

Ales blinked, instinctively going to close and tie the robe she'd so deliberately left hanging open before in the face of such formality. "Ah, no, not really. That is to say, any interruption is welcome in these dreary days. How can I help you, sir?"

"I was passing by on the street when I overheard the lovely lute playing from your residence. I fancy myself something of an enthusiast and so I thought I would stop perchance to meet the musician responsible," the stranger said with another small bow.

"Er, that would be me, then, I suppose. Ales Eaton, at your service."

The stranger's eyebrows rose, almost imperceptably, and he smiled. "Truly?"

"That surprises you? Why would I speak in jest?"

"I am sorry if I seem surprised, miss... it is only rare to encounter a gift such as the one you possess in one so young," he explained.

Ales managed a gracious smile at this. "I'm probably older than I look. But thank you, sir, you flatter me."

"I have not heard music like that in quite some time."

"Then I'm glad to be of service, Mr..."

"Where did you learn to play, Miss Eaton?" the man asked then, smiling.

Ales blinked. Interesting... Just at home. My mother taught me a little when I was very small, but I'm for the most part self-taught, from books."

"Impressive. And was that a local song, or..."

"That was a piece I'm writing. It has no words yet."

"Simply lovely."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." Still smiling, the man considered Ales a moment longer before taking a step back. "I'm afraid I must be on my way. Thank you for speaking with me."

Though she was now frowning openly in her confusion, Ales simply nodded. "Anytime, sir. Good day to you."

"Good day, Miss Eaton." And with that, he turned and left.

Well. That was strange.

Shaking her head in her bemusement, Ales made her way back round the side of the house. Rather than sit once more on the veranda she went inside, taking her lute to the music room. She'd had enough visitors for one day.

Dia was humming to herself as she tidied up the kitchen - not that there was much to tidy, but they had at least dirtied two bowls in making gruel for Artur and sharing a small salad of greens between them, She felt more lively than she had in days, thanks to the meagre meal, and she was secretly looking forward to the mysterious stranger's visit... not that she expected the woman to actually come, but it was a rather enjoyable thing to daydream about.

It was not long after her sister went upstairs to settle Artur down to sleep that there came a quiet knock at the back door.

Turning in a swirl of skirts, Dia smoothed her hands over her bodice and then her hair, clearing her throat quietly. She then hurried to open at the door, smiling widely at the woman standing there. "Hello. Um. Please come in."

The dark haired woman at the door nodded and returned the smile with a tiny one of her own, pulling her hood back as she entered. "Dia. I'm glad to see that you're well."

"Thank you. And you as well," the girl said with a slight blush to her cheeks. "Can I get you some water?"

"That would be most appreciated; thank you," Orr replied, loosening the cloak at her collar, her eyes flickering briefly across Dia's clothing and back to her face.

Nodding, Dia turned to fill a mug from the pitcher on the table as she had the night before. "I have to say, I was half-expecting you not to come."

"I told you that I would check on you. I don't abandon people I've pledged to see safe."

"Well, you'll be glad to know I stayed very safe today. Barely left the shop at all." Dia turned back to Orr with a grin, holding out the mug.

Her guest took the mug, sipping from it before speaking again. "You're a weaver, is that right? Did you weave the cloth for your dress? It's very beautiful."

"Oh, yes, thank you. I did; it's much easier to make your own things, I've found, than to buy them."

"I can imagine that's the case. How's your brother?"

"He's doing better, thank you," Dia said, her smile widening. "He seems stronger than yesterday. Hopefully tomorrow he'll be able to go outside for some sunshine."

"Let's hope the sun shines, then. The weather has been improving of late."

"Yes, it certainly has been. At least we have that."

"Still," Orr added with another tiny smile - the closest, it seemed, she got to mirth, "that's no excuse to go galavanting around the streets at night, so don't take the warmer air as an excuse."

Dia chuckled, pouring herself a mug of water as well. "Well, maybe you'll have to keep visiting to make sure I'm safe at home," she said playfully, glancing at the other woman.

Orr blinked, and raised an eyebrow. Her stance seemed to shift slightly then, and she leant an elbow on the table, her other hand going to unfasten her cloak.

"I... I'm sorry," Dia said then, blushing. "I don't know what's gotten into me. Must be something in the water..."

Orr's lips twitched in the ghost of another smile, and she shook her head a little. "Don't apologise."

"Well, I'd hardly want you to feel obligated to come back here. Besides, I truly don't get myself into trouble that often... or at all."

"You don't have to be in trouble for me to come back and see you. Not if you'd like me to."

Dia forestalled her answer with a sip of water, slipping into one of the chairs. "We don't get visitors very often nowadays. People tend to stay close to home. Not that I blame them... nobody has much to offer in the ways of hospitality anymore."

Letting her cloak fall off her shoulders to hang over the back of her chair, revealing a dark coloured tunic over close-fitting breeches, Orr sat back a little, taking another drink of her water. "Does that mean you would value the company? I would not be aversed to giving it - some time indoors before I look for somewhere to sleep for the night would be most welcome."

Dia had to drag her gaze away from Orr's long, slim legs, her eyes widening in surprise. "You don't have a place to sleep?"

"I find somewhere from night to night."

"I'm so sorry. If I had known... you're welcome to stay here," Dia offered.

Orr met Dia's eyes with that same almost knowing expression as she nodded. "That's most appreciated. I may take you up on the offer - for tonight at least, if I may."

"Oh..." Dia blinked; she obviously hadn't expected Orr to say that. She brightened a moment later, though, and nodded. "Of course. You'll even have your own room and everything."

"I'd just as soon sleep in the kitchen or front room - or at least, don't make the bed up for me. I don't want to inconvenience you. In such hard times even the energy to launder sheets is more than you should really exert."

"It's simple enough, I'll share my sister's room and you can have mine. The sheets on my bed are clean enough... unless you would rather not."

"I would certainly rather not put you out of your own bed. I'll spent the night in the front room." Orr smiled a little. "I'm sure that in a weaver and tailor's house you'll have comfortable enough cushions."

Dia smiled. "Of course. We'll make sure you are very comfortable."

"I'm much obliged to you."

"Not as much as I am to you. You'd have to go much further to even start being obliged to me."

"I could ask you where I should put my boots, then?" Orr quipped with an unexpected twinkle of humour in her eyes.

Dia smiled widely, reaching up to comb her fingers through her curly black hair. "How about you put them by the door, and we'll get you settled in?"

Twenty minutes later Dia's sister came back downstairs to find Orr and Dia sitting opposite each other at the table end nearest the now lit stove, drinking hot herbal tea and talking in muted tones, Orr's boots and coat by the door.

"Um... Dia?" Ani said, in a tone such that she required to say no more.

"Oh!" her sister said, looking shocked and sittng back from the table. "Um, Ani. This is Orr. She... we met yesterday. This is my sister, Ani," she said, looking back at Orr.

"Little late for houseguests, isn't it?" Ani murmured, her usual forthright nature cutting through pleasantries.

"She's staying the night, actually." Dia smiled somewhat nervously.

Ani's eyes narrowed a little as she looked between the pair, taking in Dia's current appearance and nervous stance, Orr's lean good looks and obvious self-confidence. She closed her eyes briefly, her face set without expression when she opened them again. "Fine," she said, moving to the stove to pour herself a mug of the herbal tea before retreating back to the door. "Remember that Artur needs to sleep," was all she added before exiting, the kitchen door clicking soundly shut behind her.

Dia laughed a little, swallowing nervously. "She's very tired... we both were up early this morning. I'm sure she'll be more talkative in the morning."

"I'm afraid I'll be gone at first light."

"You... oh. Well. I suppose you'll have to take my word on it, then," Dia said, sipping a little more of her tea before setting her mug down. "And if that's the case, we probably both ought to get some sleep."

Orr nodded. "Probably wise," she said, pushing her chair back.

"Here, let me..." Reaching for the other woman's mug, Dia's fingers brushed Orr's. Her eyes darted up even as she smiled, picking up the mug and turning back to set them on the counter.

The taller woman stood, padding towards the door to retrieve her long cloak.

"I'll find your blankets and cushions in just a moment," Dia said, dumping the leftover tea into the waste. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to use my room? It'd be much easier."

Orr shook her head. "I can't put you in with your sister when she's already put out. But no need to find me blankets; my cloak will suffice."

"Are you sure?"

"You are not going to convince me to kick you out of your own bed, Dia."

"It's the least I could do. You saved my life," Dia said, turning back around to face Orr. "The least I could offer you is a bed for a night."

Cloak now slung over her arm, Orr didn't respond to this, instead meeting Dia's eyes steadily, her expression unreadable.

Letting out a sigh, Dia summoned a smile as she once again smoothed her hands over her skirt. "Very well. At least let me make you up a pallet."

"If you must."

"I must."

That tiny smile flickered across Orr's face again. "Then go to it."

"Here we go," Dia murmured, tucking in one last blanket around the mound of cushions and pillows she had gathered in the front room. She turned to Orr, smiling and plumping up the last pillow at the head of the pallet. "All yours."

"Much obliged," Orr said, already in the process of unfastening her breeches, her belt hanging over the back of the nearby chair.

Cheeks darkening, as they seemed to do periodically, Dia dropped the pillow and stood, taking a step towards the door. "If there's anything else you'd like, don't hesitate to ask. We don't have much, but it's yours if you need it."

"Very well. I'm sure I'll be fine, however."

"Of course. I'd imagine a woman like you could take care of herself anywhere."

"A woman like me?"

Dia's eyebrows shot up and she struggled to find the words to explain herself. "I mean... someone strong. And brave. Who's used to... being on their own."

"You're used to being on your own, though, aren't you, Dia?" Orr murmured, kicking off her breeches and stooping to retrieve them, hanging them with her belt.

"Yes, but not in the same way. I have my sister, and my brother. So I'm not really alone."

"Being with others and yet having to manage yourself can be all the more lonely, in its way."

Dia blinked, as if realizing the truth in this statement and finding it surprising. "Well. We were talking about you, weren't we? And I'm sure you have no trouble taking care of yourself. That's all I meant."

"Then I take the compliment, and thank you," Orr said, loosening the lace at her neck and pulling her tunic off over her head, leaving her in a thin black shirt hanging down to her thighs.

"You're welcome," Dia replied, her lips twitching into a smile. "I hope you sleep well."

"I'm sure I'll be fine. Thank you, Dia."

"Of course. You're welcome. Good night."

"Good night."

There was no fresh clay to be had; as such, Sasha had not thrown a new pot for days. Idly she wandered through the tiny storefront, feeling her way from shelf to shelf and smoothing hands over the various shapes. When times were good her designs sold quickly, as they were both functional and attractive. Now, though, when there was nothing to hold in them, no one wanted to buy pitchers or bowls.

"Long time no see."

After yesterday, Ales had realised she couldn't spend another day trapped at the villa. Directly after Ryle's visit at lunchtime, she had dressed properly and made her way down into the city streets. Once there, however, she could think of nothing to do except this - visit an old friend.

Turning towards the door, Sasha smiled, recognizing Ales's melodic voice even in the few short words she had spoken. "Ales, what a surprise. I was not expecting any visitors today." With measured steps she walked forward, her sightless eyes even milkier than when Ales had seen her last.

"I couldn't spend another day cooped up in that villa," Ales replied, stepping forward to hug the other woman. "I realised it must be two years since I've seen you."

"At least," Sasha agreed, returning the hug. "How is your father? I'm sure he must be very busy right now."

"Yes, he's... he works very hard. How're you?"

"I am well." Smiling, Sasha gestured for Ales to join her at one of the chairs behind the counter, moving slowly but surely through the room until she reached them. "I'm afraid my hands have been idle too long and that leads to boredom, but still I cannot complain."

"I'm the same, of course. I wish I had a real profession to keep me occupied, as you do."

"There's not much for any profession to do at the moment... I think we are all suffering for lack of materials and customers. But I'm sorry you are unsatisfied."

"Oh, poor little rich girl," Ales said with a chuckle. "I'm better off than most."

Sasha smiled serenely, folding her hands in her lap. "We all face our own challenges. Yours are no less because you have more. Perhaps when the siege is lifted there will be more opportunities for you to explore."

"Mm. Perhaps. Let's hope things change soon, before we all starve."

"I think they will. The appearance of the Stranger is a sure sign that they already have."

Ales raised an eyebrow. "Someone's sources are impressively up-to-date..."

"I hear quite a bit," Sasha said with a small laugh. "The Council may be trying to keep it quiet, but people cannot help but talk."

"What have you heard?" Ales asked curiously, wondering if the general public were more abreast of the details than she was.

"Only that a mysterious stranger arrived aboard the Juniper several days ago and requested an audience with the Council. Their purpose is unknown, but of course speculation would have them as either an ally or an enemy come to save or destroy us. In addition to this... there have been rumors of a person visiting the artisans in town, those that are open, at least, and purchasing wares from them."

Alex frowned in thought at this. "Hm, interesting. Have you had such a visit?"

"No, all my visits lately have been purely social in nature."

"Well. I suppose it will take some time to get around everyone," Ales reasoned with a smile, her thoughts straying to her own visit the previous day.

Sasha smiled as well, and gave a small shrug. "I would welcome the visit, but if not, that is fine too. I would rather the money go to people who truly need it."

"Money is of little use right now anyway, when there is nothing to be bought."

"Yes, but when there is... I'm sure whatever merchants bring the first goods into town will not hesitate to charge as much as they can for them, and people will have no choice but to pay that price."

"My father will not have that."

"Your father is a good man," Sasha said soothingly. "And I know he'll do all he can to prevent it. It is unfortunate in times of trouble that we cannot all behave as well as we should, but hunger makes thieves of us all."

"Well, at least I'm in a position to do something about the hunger," Ales said, producing a small bag. "We had some extra bread this morning," she lied. "I tought perhaps you could use it."

Pursing her lips, the other girl made no move to hold her hands out for the bag. "Perhaps you ought to keep that for yourself or your father," she suggested gently.

"He'll be fine," Ales said decisively, the memory of Ryle yesterday fresh in her mind. 'I haven't eaten in two days'...

"Thank you, then," Sasha said, and accepted the bag from Ales.

The bard smiled, already formulating the excuse she would use to have eaten apart from her father that night. "You'll take care, won't you?"

"I will. Thank you for coming to visit. Please, come back any time. I would love to hear you sing again."

"I'll sing for you now, if you like."

"Would you?" Sasha smiled. "I'd like that."

The young blonde man was on his way down the side alley towards the potter's when he heard a familiar voice raised in song.

When fair Beth Farr was but one and twenty
she turned to her foul-faced da and said:
'Oh Father mine I've fortune plenty,
I've bought a ship and a crew of men
and the next high tide
I will leave this shore
and you'll not see me again, again -
and you'll not see me again.'

And the sea was wide,
but her will was strong
and the gales blew the ship so long, so long
And her homeland tide
washed her homeland shore
that she'd see again no more, no more,
that she'd see again no more...

Smiling to himself, he turned and made his way back out of the alley, a tall, dark haired woman exiting it a few moments later. The blind potter could wait.