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rainbowfic2022-10-21 08:52 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote in rainbowfic2022-10-21 08:52 pm
White Opal #15 [Starfall]
Name: Sweets from Strangers
Story: Starfall
Colors: White Opal #15 (dreams do come true)
Supplies and Styles: Charcoal + Seed Beads
Word Count: 1496
Rating: PG
Warnings: None, really - talk of espionage etc.
Notes: 1337, Portcallan; Zila Fayne, Tana Veldiner. Carries on immediately from Make a Wish
Summary: Nothing about this proposition can be a good idea…
“I’m fascinated,” said a voice behind Zila. “You must want something very badly to take your day’s earnings and as good as throw them into the ocean. And all on the hope that a cheap lucky token will grant you your heart’s desire.”
Zila stared out at the sea. The water darted nearer her feet with each turn of the waves. She turned round only slowly, though the hairs were standing up on the back of her neck with more than just the chill of the sea breeze.
The beach was unusually quiet, and the only other person near enough to be the speaker was a woman, standing close by in a long blue-grey coat. She was older, probably in her fifties, light-skinned with silvered blonde hair.
“It’s not any of your business, though, is it?” Zila said, shoving her hands into her pockets. She envied the woman her coat. The chill coming in off the sea was increasing as dusk approached.
The woman took a step closer. “That depends. I heard you singing in the street yesterday – an unusual variant of Alion’s Lament, I believe. I thought I’d see if I could talk to you, but you had moved on – and now I find this. Really, quite fascinating.”
Zila moved towards the stranger. She had little choice. The tide was not on her side. “You want me to sing for you, is that it?”
“I wonder,” said the woman. “Is that what you wished for?”
For a minute when their gazes met, coldest blue to brown, Zila felt as if she was perfectly transparent. Her palm hummed where she had pressed the shell-shaped token into it.
“Your music. You want to sing in the Calla Hall, in front of hundreds of people? Perhaps even before the High Governor himself? Yes?”
Zila swallowed. “Well, it’s not a crime.”
“No,” the woman said, falling into step with Zila as she led her way up, crunching over the shingle. “It is rather superstitious, though. You must be from somewhere along the Eister ranges, I suppose? An Eisterlander or just from Eastern or North Eastern?”
Zila shrugged. “Eisterway. That’s not my fault, either.”
“And when you think how uncertain tomorrow could be – what if it rained? What if you lost your spot on the street? Perhaps the guardians of the peace might have you removed. You never know – and yet here you are throwing away the chance for a solid meal and perhaps something to put away for another day.”
Zila raised her chin, but didn’t look at the woman. She had the feeling that was a threat, and she didn’t want to find out she was right.
“You see, it makes me wonder how far you would go for a real chance to have that wish of yours granted.”
Zila looked over then, eyes widening in shock. “What?”
“To sing in front of a large number of the most influential people in Emoyra.”
Zila studied the stranger again. That coat was of fine cloth and cut perfectly. Whoever she was, she walked onto the beach and propositioned strangers with utter confidence and knew things she oughtn’t to. That probably didn’t really come from anything to do with tacky starstone tokens – it came from being able to buy information if she wanted it. This woman was Someone, whoever she was. And if that was so, she might be serious.
“All this because, what, you liked my singing yesterday?”
The woman laughed. “Of course not. It was charming enough, I’m sure, and you’ve been well trained – at the school in Eisterway, then, no doubt? No. It’s merely that I know someone else who will like your song very much indeed. Perhaps you as well.”
“That’s not what I had in mind,” said Zila. “Don’t go assuming things.”
The woman halted and barred Zila’s way. “I’m only asking that if you value the chance of fame over a good meal and that you’ve come all this way to try your luck already – how much further would you go to get your wish?”
There was no way she could mean any good, but Zila didn’t move away. She had worked harder than most to get into the school of music. She’d put up with all that went with being a scholarship pupil. She’d spent so much time travelling around mountain hamlets since, working at all sorts of other things, just to give lessons and sing at inns and snatch at the occasional spot in a concert, and it was never enough. It didn’t matter how good she was or how hard she worked; she’d either need to stop chasing her dream and settle down to ordinary work and merely singing sometimes when she had the time to spare, or risk everything to put herself in the way of bigger opportunities.
So, she’d risked everything and come to the capital, which partly answered the stranger’s question already.
“Who is this person?” said Zila. “And who are you, for that matter? I need more to go on than that.”
The woman laughed; a cut glass laugh. “That is an answer in itself, isn’t it? You’ll do a great deal, but not just anything. Fair. I can respect that. You needn’t worry. My name is Veldiner and I work directly for the High Governor. The target – the person in question – is someone important whose behaviour has been decidedly worrying to the government for two or three years now. Nothing too dreadful, I think you must agree.”
“I suppose not,” Zila returned. “And what is it I’m supposed to do?”
“My dear, don’t worry. I am not the villain in this little story. We want information, that’s all. You may be able to obtain it after your performance; you may even, if you’re willing, be able to gain a more permanent position with our target.”
“How?”
“There will be a considerable gathering held in the main hall at Council Chambers at the end of the week. It will be no problem for me to add you to the programme and you seem to be of a suitable standard not to raise any eyebrows at the inclusion. All you have to do is perfect that quaint little song of yours for the occasion and then – the opportunity is yours.”
Zila pulled down her mouth. “It’s not exactly a cheerful piece.”
“It’s exactly right for my purposes,” said Veldiner. She put her hand to Zila’s chin and tilted her face upwards with her fingers, studying her. “The whole package, I believe.”
Zila pulled herself out of reach. She knew what she ought to say here. It might as well have been written on a sign that stretched great lengths above the Portcallan Tower.
“You will, of course, in the meantime, be provided with appropriate accommodation, further training, and a suitable dress for the occasion. That will start from this moment. If you wish – and, as we both know, you do wish, don’t you?”
Zila swallowed. She couldn’t say no, though. Not only was this everything she’d been fighting for; she hadn’t missed Imor Veldiner’s comments about how hard it was merely to find a promising spot on the streets. She was willing to bet the meagre remainder of today’s earnings she’d discover it was straight up impossible by tomorrow if she turned her down.
“Good,” Veldiner said, immediately brisk now that her object had been achieved. “Very wise. We’ll discuss the details later – but now that we have an arrangement, it will be in my interests to further your career.”
“Will it?”
Imor Veldiner nodded, and then led the way up the steps off the beach. They were narrow enough against the sea wall, that Zila had to walk in line behind her.
“Look, I sing this song,” said Zila, as they reached the top, “and get the recognition I deserve, and then… what?”
Imor Veldiner took Zila’s arm. “As I said, all I want is information. I need to know what lies behind this person’s activities. You will be serving your country. If the person is uncooperative – well, you’ll still have what you want, and you’ll be ready to do me further such favours should I ask, I’m sure.”
“How could I ever refuse?”
Zila let her new benefactor lead her back to the street, where there was a carriage waiting for them. True to Imor Veldiner’s word, it had the High Governor’s bright blue and gold Emoyran starflower on it. That was reassuring at least. People had done far worse things for their country – and Zila had done worse things for her music. Trying to flirt with, maybe even seduce, an unidentified important person in the hope of gaining vital information was a lot more appealing than cleaning tables and rooms at all the ancient, unspeakable inns scattered round Eister Heights
Even so, she couldn’t shake the feeling she might as well have stepped right into an old tale – and it wasn’t one of the good ones.
Story: Starfall
Colors: White Opal #15 (dreams do come true)
Supplies and Styles: Charcoal + Seed Beads
Word Count: 1496
Rating: PG
Warnings: None, really - talk of espionage etc.
Notes: 1337, Portcallan; Zila Fayne, Tana Veldiner. Carries on immediately from Make a Wish
Summary: Nothing about this proposition can be a good idea…
“I’m fascinated,” said a voice behind Zila. “You must want something very badly to take your day’s earnings and as good as throw them into the ocean. And all on the hope that a cheap lucky token will grant you your heart’s desire.”
Zila stared out at the sea. The water darted nearer her feet with each turn of the waves. She turned round only slowly, though the hairs were standing up on the back of her neck with more than just the chill of the sea breeze.
The beach was unusually quiet, and the only other person near enough to be the speaker was a woman, standing close by in a long blue-grey coat. She was older, probably in her fifties, light-skinned with silvered blonde hair.
“It’s not any of your business, though, is it?” Zila said, shoving her hands into her pockets. She envied the woman her coat. The chill coming in off the sea was increasing as dusk approached.
The woman took a step closer. “That depends. I heard you singing in the street yesterday – an unusual variant of Alion’s Lament, I believe. I thought I’d see if I could talk to you, but you had moved on – and now I find this. Really, quite fascinating.”
Zila moved towards the stranger. She had little choice. The tide was not on her side. “You want me to sing for you, is that it?”
“I wonder,” said the woman. “Is that what you wished for?”
For a minute when their gazes met, coldest blue to brown, Zila felt as if she was perfectly transparent. Her palm hummed where she had pressed the shell-shaped token into it.
“Your music. You want to sing in the Calla Hall, in front of hundreds of people? Perhaps even before the High Governor himself? Yes?”
Zila swallowed. “Well, it’s not a crime.”
“No,” the woman said, falling into step with Zila as she led her way up, crunching over the shingle. “It is rather superstitious, though. You must be from somewhere along the Eister ranges, I suppose? An Eisterlander or just from Eastern or North Eastern?”
Zila shrugged. “Eisterway. That’s not my fault, either.”
“And when you think how uncertain tomorrow could be – what if it rained? What if you lost your spot on the street? Perhaps the guardians of the peace might have you removed. You never know – and yet here you are throwing away the chance for a solid meal and perhaps something to put away for another day.”
Zila raised her chin, but didn’t look at the woman. She had the feeling that was a threat, and she didn’t want to find out she was right.
“You see, it makes me wonder how far you would go for a real chance to have that wish of yours granted.”
Zila looked over then, eyes widening in shock. “What?”
“To sing in front of a large number of the most influential people in Emoyra.”
Zila studied the stranger again. That coat was of fine cloth and cut perfectly. Whoever she was, she walked onto the beach and propositioned strangers with utter confidence and knew things she oughtn’t to. That probably didn’t really come from anything to do with tacky starstone tokens – it came from being able to buy information if she wanted it. This woman was Someone, whoever she was. And if that was so, she might be serious.
“All this because, what, you liked my singing yesterday?”
The woman laughed. “Of course not. It was charming enough, I’m sure, and you’ve been well trained – at the school in Eisterway, then, no doubt? No. It’s merely that I know someone else who will like your song very much indeed. Perhaps you as well.”
“That’s not what I had in mind,” said Zila. “Don’t go assuming things.”
The woman halted and barred Zila’s way. “I’m only asking that if you value the chance of fame over a good meal and that you’ve come all this way to try your luck already – how much further would you go to get your wish?”
There was no way she could mean any good, but Zila didn’t move away. She had worked harder than most to get into the school of music. She’d put up with all that went with being a scholarship pupil. She’d spent so much time travelling around mountain hamlets since, working at all sorts of other things, just to give lessons and sing at inns and snatch at the occasional spot in a concert, and it was never enough. It didn’t matter how good she was or how hard she worked; she’d either need to stop chasing her dream and settle down to ordinary work and merely singing sometimes when she had the time to spare, or risk everything to put herself in the way of bigger opportunities.
So, she’d risked everything and come to the capital, which partly answered the stranger’s question already.
“Who is this person?” said Zila. “And who are you, for that matter? I need more to go on than that.”
The woman laughed; a cut glass laugh. “That is an answer in itself, isn’t it? You’ll do a great deal, but not just anything. Fair. I can respect that. You needn’t worry. My name is Veldiner and I work directly for the High Governor. The target – the person in question – is someone important whose behaviour has been decidedly worrying to the government for two or three years now. Nothing too dreadful, I think you must agree.”
“I suppose not,” Zila returned. “And what is it I’m supposed to do?”
“My dear, don’t worry. I am not the villain in this little story. We want information, that’s all. You may be able to obtain it after your performance; you may even, if you’re willing, be able to gain a more permanent position with our target.”
“How?”
“There will be a considerable gathering held in the main hall at Council Chambers at the end of the week. It will be no problem for me to add you to the programme and you seem to be of a suitable standard not to raise any eyebrows at the inclusion. All you have to do is perfect that quaint little song of yours for the occasion and then – the opportunity is yours.”
Zila pulled down her mouth. “It’s not exactly a cheerful piece.”
“It’s exactly right for my purposes,” said Veldiner. She put her hand to Zila’s chin and tilted her face upwards with her fingers, studying her. “The whole package, I believe.”
Zila pulled herself out of reach. She knew what she ought to say here. It might as well have been written on a sign that stretched great lengths above the Portcallan Tower.
“You will, of course, in the meantime, be provided with appropriate accommodation, further training, and a suitable dress for the occasion. That will start from this moment. If you wish – and, as we both know, you do wish, don’t you?”
Zila swallowed. She couldn’t say no, though. Not only was this everything she’d been fighting for; she hadn’t missed Imor Veldiner’s comments about how hard it was merely to find a promising spot on the streets. She was willing to bet the meagre remainder of today’s earnings she’d discover it was straight up impossible by tomorrow if she turned her down.
“Good,” Veldiner said, immediately brisk now that her object had been achieved. “Very wise. We’ll discuss the details later – but now that we have an arrangement, it will be in my interests to further your career.”
“Will it?”
Imor Veldiner nodded, and then led the way up the steps off the beach. They were narrow enough against the sea wall, that Zila had to walk in line behind her.
“Look, I sing this song,” said Zila, as they reached the top, “and get the recognition I deserve, and then… what?”
Imor Veldiner took Zila’s arm. “As I said, all I want is information. I need to know what lies behind this person’s activities. You will be serving your country. If the person is uncooperative – well, you’ll still have what you want, and you’ll be ready to do me further such favours should I ask, I’m sure.”
“How could I ever refuse?”
Zila let her new benefactor lead her back to the street, where there was a carriage waiting for them. True to Imor Veldiner’s word, it had the High Governor’s bright blue and gold Emoyran starflower on it. That was reassuring at least. People had done far worse things for their country – and Zila had done worse things for her music. Trying to flirt with, maybe even seduce, an unidentified important person in the hope of gaining vital information was a lot more appealing than cleaning tables and rooms at all the ancient, unspeakable inns scattered round Eister Heights
Even so, she couldn’t shake the feeling she might as well have stepped right into an old tale – and it wasn’t one of the good ones.
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