Altriona: First Journal
Oct. 9th, 2009 03:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
velvetpage(Note: I need to make a couple of changes to the last entry so it fits with this one.)
I find myself to be too vexed of spirit to admit to slumber this night. So, while my brother and sister-in-law rest as well as they can, I will attempt to write in this journal without waking them.
Father's letter arrived with instructions to take the Lainar, a six-gun carrack currently at harbour here in Marienburg. There was a great deal in his letter asking me to reconsider on the grounds that saving his son was not worth the life of his daughter. If the mission were in fact as he believes it to be, I would possibly reconsider. Then again, I might not. How else am I to escape the web of family intrigue and gossip that will be my lot in life if my parents have their way?
After much discussion, it was decided that Lorandara would take two trunks, in one of which we would secrete Mallion for the trip down to the ship. The workers sent by the livery stable were most disrespectful. Though asked to be careful of his trunk, they bumped him around with terrible disregard. They did not know, of course, that there was a person inside. I did not ask Mallion if they were better after I asked them to be careful of the trunk, but he did not volunteer the information, either.
The Lainar is captained by Tidurion, one of Imholien House's most trusted and loyal servants. He has had command of a ship in our fleet for some sixty years and in all that time has never given Father cause for grief. I am rather nonplussed at this. It is a fine thing to have so good and experienced a sailor captaining our ship for this voyage, yet sailing with him means lying to him at least until we are well out to sea. I should think it likely that he will see fit to inform Father of our true mission at his earliest convenience, especially about Mallion's current state. He may even attempt to stop us or make us leave the ship. There has already been some discomfort over the necessity of lying to the port authorities about our likely destination - and we will be changing course again shortly after leaving port, after we inform the Captain of the true nature of our problem. I haven't confided most of this in Lorandara, and certainly not in Mallion. He would likely guess, were he not too engrossed in his transformation to consider such problems, but Lorandara does not have a head for such things.
Master Sepp, of the Office of Weights and Measures, is a most unpleasant human. He came on board in the evening to do his job, weighing the cargo and charging taxes on it. But he also saw fit to leer at Lorandara and myself, paw through our gowns and underthings, and generally make himself as disagreeable as possible. We had mere moments to help Mallion hide himself in our cabin, which he elected not to do, choosing instead to exit via the window and cling to the bulwark of the ship while the official was present.
After Master Sepp had left, I went to dinner with the officers and 'Dara leaned out the window to ask Mallion to come back. As he began to move, it seems some poor fisherman spotted him. The fisher called up to Lorandara and informed her that a thief was attempting to board the ship. She thanked him profusely while Mallion hid under the docks. When the man was gone, she looked for him again.
She watched as he launched himself from his hiding place under the docks and took wing into the night.
Even right after the transformation, she was not so distraught; or perhaps she was, but the emotions manifested themselves very differently. I returned from dinner to find her as white as bleached cotton, her eyes too big in her small face, standing at the window as if nailed to the floor.
"He flew away," she told me.
"He'll return shortly, I'm sure," I answered, though I was far from sure.
"Why would he? It's my fault," she replied.
"You are blameless in the matter of his flight! He probably just needed to test his wings, to see what he could do!"
"It's my fault," she repeated.
As realization dawned, I sank gracelessly into the armchair. "That horrid book. You were reading it. You transformed him." She nodded.
A million thoughts flitted through my mind. I immediately rejected those indicating it was done with malice; no matter how bad a mage she is, there is not a malicious bone in her body. No, it was surely an accident. But how could she have been so stupid? Wisely, I think, I held my tongue, for she clearly felt horrible enough already. I was on the point of speaking when she added, "You won't tell Mallion?"
I stared at her, aghast. "I have to tell him! He's my brother! He has a right to know!"
"I love him, and he will hate me! I beg you, Altriona!"
I gazed at her distraught face and relented. "If he asks me outright, I will tell him true," I warned her.
"Please give him no reason to," she pleaded. I sighed, and swore it.
I am now engaged in a pact to keep knowledge of his condition from my brother, who of us all has the greatest reason to need it. I do not believe I have ever lied to him before. Certainly I have never kept such a huge secret, and one so closely concerning himself. It sits ill with me, and is the likely cause of this white night. How can I have honour when I will lie to my brother, to a family retainer, to my father, not to mention all the servants from whom we concealed the truth?
What if we cannot transform him back? What if the magic to do so does not exist? Am I doomed to spend the rest of my life asking future strangers what other choice I could have made to retain my honour?
Mallion came back some time later, landing gracefully inside the window, seemingly perfectly at home with his new appendages. It was awkward, having to witness the moment of intimacy when they discussed sleeping arrangements. They are now curled up on the bed, and I was in my hammock until I fell out. (Readers of days yet to come, are you laughing at my lack of grace? I hope so - there has been little other humour in this tale so far.)
We sail on the morning tide. Dawn is mayhap two hours away. There will be no sleep for me this night, nor many nights to come if this uncertainty is to be my shadow on this voyage.
What, pray tell, shall I tell Captain Tidurion?
I find myself to be too vexed of spirit to admit to slumber this night. So, while my brother and sister-in-law rest as well as they can, I will attempt to write in this journal without waking them.
Father's letter arrived with instructions to take the Lainar, a six-gun carrack currently at harbour here in Marienburg. There was a great deal in his letter asking me to reconsider on the grounds that saving his son was not worth the life of his daughter. If the mission were in fact as he believes it to be, I would possibly reconsider. Then again, I might not. How else am I to escape the web of family intrigue and gossip that will be my lot in life if my parents have their way?
After much discussion, it was decided that Lorandara would take two trunks, in one of which we would secrete Mallion for the trip down to the ship. The workers sent by the livery stable were most disrespectful. Though asked to be careful of his trunk, they bumped him around with terrible disregard. They did not know, of course, that there was a person inside. I did not ask Mallion if they were better after I asked them to be careful of the trunk, but he did not volunteer the information, either.
The Lainar is captained by Tidurion, one of Imholien House's most trusted and loyal servants. He has had command of a ship in our fleet for some sixty years and in all that time has never given Father cause for grief. I am rather nonplussed at this. It is a fine thing to have so good and experienced a sailor captaining our ship for this voyage, yet sailing with him means lying to him at least until we are well out to sea. I should think it likely that he will see fit to inform Father of our true mission at his earliest convenience, especially about Mallion's current state. He may even attempt to stop us or make us leave the ship. There has already been some discomfort over the necessity of lying to the port authorities about our likely destination - and we will be changing course again shortly after leaving port, after we inform the Captain of the true nature of our problem. I haven't confided most of this in Lorandara, and certainly not in Mallion. He would likely guess, were he not too engrossed in his transformation to consider such problems, but Lorandara does not have a head for such things.
Master Sepp, of the Office of Weights and Measures, is a most unpleasant human. He came on board in the evening to do his job, weighing the cargo and charging taxes on it. But he also saw fit to leer at Lorandara and myself, paw through our gowns and underthings, and generally make himself as disagreeable as possible. We had mere moments to help Mallion hide himself in our cabin, which he elected not to do, choosing instead to exit via the window and cling to the bulwark of the ship while the official was present.
After Master Sepp had left, I went to dinner with the officers and 'Dara leaned out the window to ask Mallion to come back. As he began to move, it seems some poor fisherman spotted him. The fisher called up to Lorandara and informed her that a thief was attempting to board the ship. She thanked him profusely while Mallion hid under the docks. When the man was gone, she looked for him again.
She watched as he launched himself from his hiding place under the docks and took wing into the night.
Even right after the transformation, she was not so distraught; or perhaps she was, but the emotions manifested themselves very differently. I returned from dinner to find her as white as bleached cotton, her eyes too big in her small face, standing at the window as if nailed to the floor.
"He flew away," she told me.
"He'll return shortly, I'm sure," I answered, though I was far from sure.
"Why would he? It's my fault," she replied.
"You are blameless in the matter of his flight! He probably just needed to test his wings, to see what he could do!"
"It's my fault," she repeated.
As realization dawned, I sank gracelessly into the armchair. "That horrid book. You were reading it. You transformed him." She nodded.
A million thoughts flitted through my mind. I immediately rejected those indicating it was done with malice; no matter how bad a mage she is, there is not a malicious bone in her body. No, it was surely an accident. But how could she have been so stupid? Wisely, I think, I held my tongue, for she clearly felt horrible enough already. I was on the point of speaking when she added, "You won't tell Mallion?"
I stared at her, aghast. "I have to tell him! He's my brother! He has a right to know!"
"I love him, and he will hate me! I beg you, Altriona!"
I gazed at her distraught face and relented. "If he asks me outright, I will tell him true," I warned her.
"Please give him no reason to," she pleaded. I sighed, and swore it.
I am now engaged in a pact to keep knowledge of his condition from my brother, who of us all has the greatest reason to need it. I do not believe I have ever lied to him before. Certainly I have never kept such a huge secret, and one so closely concerning himself. It sits ill with me, and is the likely cause of this white night. How can I have honour when I will lie to my brother, to a family retainer, to my father, not to mention all the servants from whom we concealed the truth?
What if we cannot transform him back? What if the magic to do so does not exist? Am I doomed to spend the rest of my life asking future strangers what other choice I could have made to retain my honour?
Mallion came back some time later, landing gracefully inside the window, seemingly perfectly at home with his new appendages. It was awkward, having to witness the moment of intimacy when they discussed sleeping arrangements. They are now curled up on the bed, and I was in my hammock until I fell out. (Readers of days yet to come, are you laughing at my lack of grace? I hope so - there has been little other humour in this tale so far.)
We sail on the morning tide. Dawn is mayhap two hours away. There will be no sleep for me this night, nor many nights to come if this uncertainty is to be my shadow on this voyage.
What, pray tell, shall I tell Captain Tidurion?