Date: August 23, 2000 (Aether: December 24, 3906)
Place: Queen-Maharani's Chamber - Atesh-Gah - Haven
Cast: Amipal, Tara, Thalia (II)
Scene: A cyprian at the Siren's Song has learned a dangerous secret, and she breaks one of the cardinal rules of her profession in order to warn a woman she has never met, who currently holds the reins of a nation.

The chill of winter does not reach the Queen-Maharani's elegant chamber, but bright sunlight does filter in through its paned windows, casting a pattern of light and shadow across the deep pile of expensive rugs.

The woman herself is seated delicately near the room's center, snowy wings half-furled, paging slowly through the collection of papers on her lap; Amipal stands in his customary place by her side, casting the occasional idle glance over the Empyrean's shoulder.

A soft knock disturbs the silence, and the chamber's outer door swings wide to admit a single Agni-Haidar and the fetching, blonde-haired Mongrel he conducts. "This young woman wishes to speak with you, your highness," the large man rumbles politely. "About the late troubles in the city."

That said, he withdraws, closing the door as he exits.

Tara swallows, looking round before managing a pretty decent curtsey, head down, but still looking up at the Maharani from under her fringe of hair.

Thalia looks up from the papers in her lap. Setting them aside, she clears the lustrous blue silk to glow luminescently in the winter sun. Her arms go to the sides of her chair and she looks over Tara carefully. "I see, and what do you wish to speak of, young lady?"

Tara clears her throat, and straightens, chin up, one hand going to straighten her hair, her other holding the cloak about her, almost as protection. She takes a deep, slow breath, lets it out and swallows again. "It's uh... about th' Al'Gul, Domi... uh... Imph..." What do you call her? "Queen."

Thalia produces a listening look, one without overt emotion. "Please, continue." She leans back in her chair, waiting.

Tara looks down at her feet. "Uh... He..." She frowns. "Mehtar? I think that must be his name... said that he's plannin' t'ambush ye an' yer guard. Next ... next time y'come out of th' Embassy." A pause, and another frown. "He sounded kinda sure, like he knew when that'd be."

Thalia quirks the corners of her mouth up in a sign of amusement. "I see. However, I do not plan on leaving Atesh-Gah any time soon. This -- Mehtar -- will have a long wait." She looks over at the Kaimakam.

Amipal watches Tara through half-narrowed eyes, his dusky brow drawn thoughtfully down, as if he were trying -- and failing -- to place the woman. Then, softly, he inquires, "Can you describe this man? Did he tell you how he plans to reach the Maharani, protected as she is?"

Tara licks her lips. Gives him a decent description of Mehtar, with reasonably-well concealed revulsion, and then shakes her head. "Only that he figured he was goin' t' outnumber her guards."

Amipal dips his chin in a shallow nod as the young woman describes the Al'Gul Seraskier, his expression darkening only slightly; casting a sidelong glance Thalia's way, he observes, "We have no reliable way of knowing how many of the Al'Gul remain alive in Haven, your highness. It is reasonable to assume that this Mehtar still has the capability he claims."

Tara hugs herself, looking, oddly, more upset than uncomfortable.

Thalia considers Amipal's points, then asks Tara, "Do you have anything else to add?" Her soft voice and rounded features makes her seem particularly vulnerable in comparison to the icons of muscle and warfare that guard her.

A long pause from the young, blonde Mongrel, then a nod. "Uh. I guess. Kinda... depends how much y'want t'hear about him." Teeth worry at her bottom lip for a moment. "But.. uh..." Those blue eyes meet the Queen-Maharani's. "No one... uh.. not just him, but no one... has t'know it was me told ye it. S'why I had t'come see you, not just send a message."

Thalia replies, her demeanor one of understanding, "Of course, I will not betray this confidence. I thank you for telling me about this." On the matter of Mehtar's traits, the Queen appears uninterested in discovering the manner of the enemy which seeks her life.

Tara looks down at her feet, then up again. "If.. uh... he comes t'see me again...?" She's not quite sure how to finish the question.

Thalia looks vaguely uncertain at the question. Perhaps, not being a woman of subterfuge and clandestine operations, she looks over at Kaimakam Amipal for an answer to Tara's question.

Amipal's mildly pensive expression has returned, and he has resumed his study of the young woman's features. Catching the Varati Queen's glance out of the corner of one eye, he intones, "What is the nature of your relationship with the man?"

Tara looks over to the Varati, blue eyes almost defiant. "I'm a Cyprian, Imphadi." Another breath, and she adds, "An' I'm breakin' a rule comin' here t'tell ye this."

Thalia states judiciously, "If the man does not know that you have imparted information to me, then I do not see how it would affect your working relationship with him."

Tara runs a hand through sun-gold locks. "It ain't about him. It messes up everythin' else." Miserably. "Siren rules are that anythin' that happens or gets said upstairs is secret." One toe scuffs at the floor. "Maybe I shouldn've done this." She looks up. "I don' even know ye, an' I don' figure there's much ye do that c'd change my life, or why I sh'd even care."

Thalia says, as comfortingly as possible, "Far better that you have informed me than to have Khalid burn the Siren down to cinders for contributing to my death. A lesser evil, if you will."

Tara's eyes open, briefly, wide, then she just nods. Sighs. "I don' expect y'to understand." A pause, and then she adds, quietly, "He's wounded. Two deep cuts in his shoulder."

Thalia appears, once again, at a loss as to what sort of response Tara is seeking. "Would it ease your mind if you were compensated for your information? In case there is retribution against you by your employer."

Tara shakes her head. "Tol' ye y'didn' understand. Y'can't pay me enough t' make me able t'look some guy in th' eye an' say 'I never told anyone a thing I heard up here' when he needs t'hear it."

She rubs at her face. "Can' even explain why th' hell I'm here." A sigh. "Y'probably think I just bed folks fer money." Hair falls about her face as she tosses her head, almost proudly. "Ain't what I do. I help folks feel better. An' sometimes they need t'get secrets off their chest." Blue eyes blink, as if surprised at herself, and she looks down. Another awkward pause, toe scuffing the floor, before she murmurs, "He thinks I got yer face. Look like ye."

Thalia is silent in thought for a moment, then once again she falls back on a noncommittal sort of tone. "I suppose, though given that I am, I would suspect, at least twice your age, and," she gestures at Tara's far more lithe body, "far plumper than you, I suspect this is quite a generous opinion on his part."

A shrug. "I jus' take th' money an' let him pretend." Tara looks up again. "Maybe th' reason I'm here..." Teeth worry at her lip, then she nods. "Aye. I know what he wants t'do t'you. An' I only got th' pretty bits, an' I was sore fer th' next day." She shudders a little. "He ain't right in th' head, that one. Wouldn' wish him on anyone."

Thalia states, with extreme certainty, "What he wishes to do and what he will do are not the same, Cyprian. I do not fear his mental perambulations." She does not elaborate on the state of her protection, but she appears confident that if caught, she would certainly not be taken alive.

Amipal interjects a mild, dispassionate, "I have taken the measure of your Mehtar. He is strong, but he is careless, and had our engagement continued, I would have had him. He will not escape me a second time." It isn't clear whether this is meant to be a comfort to the young Cyprian, or simply an observation.

Tara shrugs. "He ain't mine. That was ye outside th' Siren, wasn' it?"

Amipal inclines his head once more, starless eyes meeting Tara's evenly. "I understand the financial importance of your code," he returns, calmly. "If, however, this man chooses to confide in you once more, and you choose to relay his confidence, we will doubtless be appreciative."

Another shake of golden-blonde hair. "I ain't doin' this fer a reward." Almost sulkily. "I just haveta, all right?"

Thalia nods, in a more understanding fashion than Amipal has so far evinced. "Of course, though I would not wish for you to suffer for your actions, Cyprian. While we will not betray this confidence, we also cannot provide you with protection from retribution in anything other than a monetary fashion."

Tara shakes her head. "Told ye, I don' want payin'. Just makes it worse."

Yet again, there is a long pause in the conversation. Finally, Thalia rallies and asks, "Is there anything else? We should not keep you here overlong, lest your secret be revealed."

Softly, "No." Tara looks up, meeting the Queen-Maharani's gaze. Quietly, "Jus' be careful. He's at least as sure of himself as yer minder..." Eyes indicate she's referring to Amipal. "An' if he gets ye anyway, I'll..." Threats? Maybe not. A deep breath, and she adds, with a sigh. "Don' worry about me. It ain't somethin' y'can fix. Any more'n this is something I didn' have t'do."

Tara ohs. Almost mischievously. "An' I won't let on th' Emperor ain't dead."

Thalia gives Tara a querying look, then says, "Khalid Atar was never dead. I do not hide this fact. Should others choose to believe otherwise, that is their folly and their failing."

Tara shrugs expressively. "Makes folk like Mehtar do stupid things, that's fer sure." Those eyes, blue as a summer noon, haven't left Thalia's face, and for a moment they soften, lose that worldly-wise look and Tara murmurs, quietly, "I don' envy ye. Think I'd be happier bein' me." A pause, teeth worrying her lip, and then she straightens. "Uh. C'n I go?"

Thalia nods to Tara. "Yes, you may. Again, thank you for coming." She gestures toward the door and a ubiquitous shudra appears to open it for the cyprian, looking only mildly condescending. Her wings, flowing over the back of her chair, flex in the winter sunlight, sending a cascade of silver over her hair and face; the face Mehtar claims to be similar to Tara's, but the wings, those are Thalia's alone.

FIN  

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