Merging

[thidwick]

“Oh, yes, of course.” Odran said, unhappy to see her leave. “If you’re sure. Elsie makes great porridge…err…so I’ve heard.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you.” Elsie said sharply. “Shame you can’t stay.” She returned the other woman’s curtsy, and stepped back in to the house. “Hope Ogden didn’t keep you too long.” She pulled Odran into the house and shut the door.

Odran opened the door and called out to her. “Syla!” He threw a roll at her. “Thanks for your help.”

[Melcena]

Syla caught the bit of bread, eyes widening, an odd sort of warmth rising up inside her. She froze, surprised both by the gesture the strength of her reaction to it. You will not be seduced by kindness, she told herself firmly, shaking off her reverie.

"It was my pleasure," she said breathlessly, then turn and hurried off as quickly as she could without running.

Dear mother of god, guilt was such an inconvinient emotion.

[thidwick]

Once he was safely inside he met Elsie’s fiery gaze. “I don’t believe it! You’re not out for a day and you’ve already been the victim of a pick-pocket and picked up a stray.”

“And I was given a mop by a small, wide-footed man.” He added, finding the situation funny.

“Really? I didn’t know he could do anything but mop. That’s all I’ve ever seen him do.” She remembered her previous annoyance. “She was probably the one who nabbed your bag.”

“Syla? No! She wouldn’t. And I plan to go back out there once I have more supplies. Do you have any more silver? I could trade you in gold pieces.”

“The castle is in a tizzy with your disappearance and you’re worried. If you weren’t a prince I would slap you.”

“By all means.” He leaned forward, but she turned away. “Would you like to come with me? There’s to be a streetshow tonight, I think.”

“I’d love to, but some of us have work to do. If I’m not scrubbing, I’m to be searching for you.”

“Then say you’re going to look for me! Come on, Elsie, it’ll be fun.”

Elsie thought it over. “Ok.” She said quietly.

[Melcena]

Syla slipped quickly through the streets of the city, breathless by the time she reached that semi-abandoned tenement that served as home base for the street urchins. When she got into the room that served as a communal bedroom she was not surprised to find Kibeth waiting for her and handed over Odgen's purse without a word. The older girl raised an eyebrow at her, as if to ask why a single job had taken so long. Syla shrugged and moved into a curtained alcove to change into what amounted to the nicest clothing any of them had.

"There's been a change," Kibbeth said, finally.

"Oh?"

"There are going to be two shows. The one in the afternoon, and one in the evening."

"In the evening? No one will be able to see..." And you know I don't want to do it!

"We'll light fires."

Syla sighed, emerging in a bright many-patched skirt that fell well short of her ankles and a well-worn peasant blouse that was no longer quite white. Kibeth handed her several items of cheap jewelry, including two sets of belled anklets meant mainly to emphasize a dancer's movements with sound. Syla donned them wordlessly before turning to face Kibeth.

"Why the change?"

Kibeth looked at her for a long moment before answer, short black hair shifting as she tilted her head. "It's your strongest asset, Syla. You're decent as a thief, but we've got better. Several better. Everyone needs to do what they can to maximize income to keep all of us fed and clothed. That's why the Grey Cats have been around so long - why we survive when other gangs fall apart.

"I know you aren't overly happy about it, but I honestly think it's for the best."

Syla nodded mutely. Kibeth, she knew, had been a part of the Cats since a very early age - three or four. Now at nineteen, two years older than Syla herself, Kibeth ran the organization with a passion deeper than blood. Her family and friends, indeed her whole life, was encompassed by it and Syla admired both her strength and her compassion. She would do what was needed.

"Come now," Kibeth said gently, touching Syla's shoulder. "We should go."

[trisherina]

Aliane hugged herself, feeling the heat of the prince puppet's steadily appraising gaze.

What would be the harm if she took him for a day? The place was so big, chances were good no one would even enter this room, and if they did, why would they be looking for the prince? She would bring him back tomorrow, she knew she would.

She watched as her hand snaked out and closed the ornate box with the prince inside, then hid it under her shift.

Aliane raced from the room, her heart in her throat with an odd combination of terror and glee. Trying to be quiet, she approached an intersection of corridors with utmost care.

"Come on, Elsie, it'll be fun," she heard Prince Odran say. Elsie's response was muffled by the thudding of Aliane's own heart, but she thought she heard assent in her tone.

[zefrank]

but she knew she had to move quickly. the circus had gone. all of a sudden, too, without the normal bustle of activity. Henry was sure to be among them. "Oh, dear" she thought, "he'll be getting hungry by now"

[thidwick]

She packed a small bag for him, and they left. “You make a terrible peasant.”

“Who, me?”

“You’re the only one who’s trying to be one.”

“What am I doing wrong?”

“It’s hardly lunchtime and you’ve already come back for food.”

“I didn’t have any—I didn’t want to go hungry.”

“Sometimes you have to. And second, you came to me for it.”

“So?”

“We don’t give food to strangers. We live in a castle. We serve royalty—not commoners. If there’s anything left over, we eat it.”

“Oh.”

“Third, you trusted a stranger.”

“What’s wrong with that? She was very nice.”

“She was very pretty. And nice doesn’t mean they’re honest.”

Odran sighed. “Right.”

“Fourth…”

“There’s a fourth?”

“You need to stick to your story. And try to talk a bit…less formally. I’m surprised she didn’t notice anything. She must have been hiding something.”

“You’re not very trusting.”

“I can’t afford to be.” She said quickly, dodging the white mouse that darted across their path.

[amanda]

Daylight now- and Mujara was happy for it. She remembered this was a dangerous part of the road. Once, when she was traveling with her father still, they had been robbed near this place.

No. It was this exact place. She recognized the old knarled tree, hovering somewhere between life and dormancy. Even though she was young, she remembered having to stare at that tree's trunk for what seemed like hours, not moving, not looking at their faces. Perhaps it was fear, not being allowed to see or because it shocked her youthful ideals, Mujara's memory rested almost entirely on the voice of the leader- it was a woman voice.

A leader who instructed her minions to take her father's most prized puppet at the time- The Prince.

[thidwick]

“Two shows today! What luck!”

“We can see the street show this afternoon, and then catch the puppet extravaganza tonight.”

“I sat for a puppeteer once.” Odran said vacantly. “But I think he was blind.”

“Nonsense. Why would you sit for him if he was blind?”

“Mother made me.”

[Melcena]

Syla took her place in the half circle formed by the street musicians. Because of their lack of funds, most of the instruments were either old or handmade, but more than adequate for all that. The musicians themselves, none older than Syla, were all self- or peer-taught. Still, Syla knew, they did very well.

Kibeth stood unobstrusively off to one side, near the collection box. Mixed in with the spare crowd that had gathered in anticipation of the performance were several of the members of the streetgang, some there for enjoyment purposes and others for protection. Kibeth was nothing if not careful. Syla touched the red scarf holding her hair out of her face, making a last minute inventory of herself. Ready as I'll ever be.

Syla looked over her shoulder at the head musician.

"Ready when you are."

[thidwick]

“The street show’s starting!” Odran said happily. “I’ll race you there.” He took off, enjoying the chance at running. Elsie followed him, catching him only after he’d reached the crowd.

“For someone who never gets out, you sure are fast.” She said with a smile.

“That’s Syla.” He said, not moving his eyes. “That girl, about to go on stage…it’s her.”

“A gypsy! I told you she was untrustworthy!”

“Just because she’s a gypsy doesn’t mean you can’t trust her.”

“Gypsy’s are right next to pick-pockets and thieves, Ogden.”

“They can’t all be the same. Not all servants are the same, are they?”

Before she could answer, the music started.

[amanda]

Intoxicating as they were, the mysterious coral flowers were not to be touched. Inside the tip of the stamen, what almost looked to be an eye, contained one of the most deadliest poisons Nature took the time to create. yellow and sticky, one drop was enough to kill any living organ- and make quite sure nothing else would grow there again.

What was even worse, the substance also drew a strange sort of flying fireant. Moving in hoards, they seemed to almost rain down from the sky. And the sound! OH! the sound was horrific- like the lightening screeching across metal strings....if there was such a thing.

Mujara rolled down her sleeves and held her satchel close. She was taking no chances.

[Melcena]

Syla started with her eyes closed.

She had learned these dances without music, without any accompaniment besides her mother's clapping and the slap of her own feet on the floor. Now, in an unfamilar city surrounded by unfamiliar people she let the steps take her back to those lessons, taught in secret when her disapproving gadjo father wasn't around to chastise.

Despite her reluctance to perform, despite the danger inherent in revealing her heritage, the familiar movements, the shoulder rolls, undulations, and the intricate patterns her feet flickered through brought with them a sense of freedom Syla hadn't felt in years. Those many years of denying this part of herself, her mother's gift.

The music sped up and Syla followed it, grey eyes open now, challenging as she spun along the circumfrence of the circle, the hem of her skirt and tips of her hair brushing those along the edge. Any misgivings she'd had were gone. She would be fierce now, and free. She would be herself, live as her mother had not been able to.

A firey exhultation rose in her as the first song wound down and she struck her ending pose. A few more dances, and then the song set, and they would be done, unless someone requested more. And, Syla found, she wouldn't mind if someone did.

[trisherina]

Where to take it? Aliane knew she could not keep her Prince for long in either of the two rooms her family inhabited. There was nowhere to store anything as large as the ornate box and still keep it a secret.

She felt a rising panic at the enormity of her crime. What if she were discovered? Her parents would be sent away in shame, and would find no respectable home to work for elsewhere. They would become vagabonds, or worse: thieves.

"Thief, thief, thief," spoke the soles of her shoes, carrying her farther and farther away from the castle grounds, down a well-worn path that her parents had forbidden her to travel on her own. The rustling of mice drew her attention to the side of the path, where flowers the deep coral colour of her Prince's lips grew in profusion.

[amanda]

deep in the day- the heat, the drunken perfume from the flowers, the low drone of distant mayflies brought Mujara to the outer reaches of her mind.

"Is the world getting larger or am I getting smaller?"

Even the puppet Queen seemed to speak through the velvet and mahogany.

"My son. My son is near. Go fetch him. Quickly. Before nightfall"

Who was pulling the strings now?