(STORY)
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from: CHAPTER SIXTEEN ~ HOMECOMING characters: KIAN (pov), ELKE, CARDENA DELA VARA
Kian has returned to find a Ladroa no less complicated than when he left it. It seems that all around him is suffering - the kind that cannot be solved with simple violence.
Rather than succumbing to self-pity, sometimes one must step out of the shadows and instead choose light. And so, Kian makes an appointment with a doctor...
After leaving Valke at The Silver Glade, Kian soon found himself wandering distractedly in the evening drizzle along the boardwalks of the Puerto district. The weeks of travel from Auspenheim and then from Oranda had been oddly comforting, reminding him of old times spent alone on the open road. The Tyrson Company made for peculiar company, but he did appreciate how each of the three other men were still able to balance bantering camaraderie with long spells of untroubled silence.
Now, Kian realized he'd forgotten how different Ladroa felt from other cities - always busy, always noisy. The tight confines and milling crowds felt oddly constraining, even oppressive to him. He plodded through the bustle, letting his boots land loudly, his footfalls fitfully switching in tone between cobbled streets and wooden quays.
The sea air carried the bellowing of merchant sailors loading and unloading ships of all sizes and riggings. Below, the water lapped the hulls and piers and occasional bits of rocky shore buried under the boardwalk. Above it all, the seagulls of Ladroa keened and bickered over scraps of fish and refuse.
Kian tuned all this out and allowed his troubled mind to wander, but his feet led him unerringly back to the old Copper Goblet. The wet grey skies of the day had now given way to twilight, and in the gloom he looked the ugly, comfortless building up and down with a sense of dissatisfaction. He then took a deep breath, turned on his heel, and began retracing his steps back to the Puerto, passing again along the darkened but still-lively docks until he found himself on the Calle Caridad, standing before the somewhat faded grandeur of the Schola Santa-Vara.
In its day, it surely would have been quite stately, but age and use and salt air had weathered its façade. Still, compared to the Goblet, it was a palace. Bypassing the handsome arched cloister crowning the rundown main entrance, he circled to the side gate where patients were admitted to the infirmary.
As the doors shut behind him, the background din of shouting sailors and gossiping harlots up the street was replaced with the pitiable moans and cries of the sick and the dying. It smelled of rot and sweat and varied effluences, and this assault on the senses acted upon Kian like salts, wrenching him from the thorny nest of his inner thoughts.
“Kian.” a voice called out softly.
Elke was dressed conservatively in a long grey dress and apron reaching to her booted ankles. Her neck and head were covered by a wimple, leaving only her white face exposed. The Varantine sister looked to him with her large, expressive eyes, and he crossed the hall to speak to her more privately.
“So, you found her.” she concluded calmly. “And did she drink?”
She had been drinking, and drinking too much, Kian thought to himself, but he knew exactly what Elke was referring to.
“She did. But she’s still in a bad way.” His terse response felt like a woefully inadequate expression of Valke’s condition. But if anyone knew that, it was Elke.
She nodded with detached calm. It seemed clinical to Kian - surely the same look she wore while tending to the terminal cases in this place. But Valke wasn’t just another patient; she was Kian’s comrade and Elke’s sister. He found himself suddenly wondering how much Elke truly knew about the source of Valke's pain.
“Anyway, I can't know everything she's going through, but maybe I can understand better than most. I owe it to her to help her through this. And I will. I swear it.”
A small sympathetic smile creased Elke's pale face. Kian had the bittersweet realization that the sisters looked most alike when they smiled.
“But right now, it seems like I’ve got another friend who needs my help as well. Do you know anything about a drug called the Blue Lightning?”
Elke's smile faded and she nodded. They both had responsibilities beyond one depressed, self-loathing Vaara.
“See for yourself. There are a few cases here. They are still minor for the most part - those who overindulged and harmed themselves. But the dependency is fast-forming and strong. The Doctor-Curate believes that with time we will see much worse.”
Kian nodded and wiped his brow. “Right. Well, may I ask... uh, is she in? The Lady... er, the Doctor-Curate?” he stammered. He felt abruptly awkward, but no response was needed. His keen ears noted the whisper-soft sound of her footsteps entering the infirmary a full second before Elke’s eyes darted to her mistress.
Kian swallowed. This was a reunion he had both longed for and dreaded in equal measure. Drawing himself up, he turned stiffly to welcome the Dona Cardena dela Vara; doctor, socialite, heiress... along with some other lesser-known occupations.
She was not dressed in ladylike finery, but in a Varantine smock similar to Elke's, with an extra ensign signifying her position. Despite this, and even in these surroundings, she seemed impossibly regal. She was also the most beautiful woman Kian had ever met.
He cleared his throat and gave her his best bow. “My lady.” he managed. As he redressed himself, she approached, standing closer than he felt comfortable with. She was a scant few inches taller than him, but Kian felt very small before her.
“Why, Master Kian Grey, I’d heard you were back in Ladroa. I trust you passed an agreeable winter?”
He noted that the Lady Dela Vara had deigned to address him warmly and personably, but Kian remained very aware that she sat well above his station. He recognized that some hierarchies needed to be acknowledged in public, but he had always abhorred the trappings of class and the so-called nobility. Even so, Kian was also painfully aware of how unworthy he had always felt in her presence, in ways that no other nobles, magistrates, kings, Sidhe lords, or even demigods had ever elicited in him.
“I have been well, my lady. I thank you for asking. I was wondering... that is, may I be so bold as to…?” He stopped and cleared his throat again. This was unlike his usual tongued-tied inadequacy around the Dona. His infatuation and nervousness remained, but it weighed on him less than usual. Instead, he realized he was trying desperately to be respectful but failing toward obsequiousness. Rather than embarrassment over this, he only felt an inner disgust with himself. He gave his head a light shake to clear his thoughts.
“I would speak to you privately, my lady.”
Her languid gaze fixed upon Kian, and he could neither bear this nor look away. Her mouth did not move, but her eyes seemed to smile for a sparkling moment, then narrowed.
“Regrettably, Master Grey, I have patients to attend to at this moment..."
“Er, of course. I should..." Kian mumbled, his spirits falling.
“...but if you wish, you are welcome to bide a while in the Schola library. It may take some time.”
“Yes! I thank you, my lady. I’ll await your convenience.” With that he bowed once more, gave Elke a reassuring nod, and withdrew quickly into the chapter house so the Doctor-Curate could proceed with her nightly duties.
The fading skies outside had now turned to misty moonlight, and the manor itself was dark to his eyes. There seemed to be no other occupants present, so he made his own way around. Kian had not gotten to know the whole building well on his first visit, chaotic as it was, but he remembered where to locate the library. There, he found a candlestick, and by its light, performed a quick, practiced search of the room to be sure it was secure. He wasn’t exactly suspicious – just being thorough, he thought to himself.
He sank into an old armchair of frayed cloth, which, despite its threadbare state, spoke of elegance, old wealth, and quality. He looked to the high wooden coffered ceiling that mirrored the dark oak of the freestanding solid bookshelves, and sighed to himself. He wished to be patient, but thoughts of Valke, Yasifa, and even the De Cinza girl troubled him. Was everyone in Ladroa afflicted in some way or another? Now anxious about this private tete-a-tete he had so boldly requested with dela Vara, he bolted up from the chair, and began to peruse the Schola's library.
Much of it was in languages he did not speak, and seemed medical in nature, although he did identify some titles on toxins and antidotes which he could partly understand. Finally, he landed upon a book in a familiar script - similar to Elvish, but somehow sharper... more toothy, perhaps.
His reading level in the Vaara language was still rudimentary (and his pronunciation was worse, according to Valke) but his time studying texts on the arcane in the palace library of Auspenheim helped him to grasp the concepts under discussion in the tome, that being the nature of the persistent life-sustaining forces inherent in all mortal beings.
Like some Elvish texts he’d encountered, the writing was dense, unhurried, and without any chapter breaks, which he assumed reflected an intended readership with an inhuman abundance of time. Nonetheless, Kian set about trying to glean something from it to distract himself.
He had made some modest progress when the Lady entered, quiet and radiant, like some spectral being. She had changed from the simple robe and wimple she wore in the infirmary to a long, elegant gown of embroidered black linen with slashes to reveal pale blue silk beneath. Her translucent gold hair was bound up in decorative silver clasps. All was offset by the limpid copper of her eyes, like coins in firelight. The effect was ghostly.
Without looking to him, she closed the door and turned the latch. When she did turn, Kian was already standing to greet her. To him, her exquisite features seemed somehow softer than before. It occurred to him that in public, even within her own infirmary, certain manners needed to be observed, and which he now flattered himself to think she was relaxing in his presence.
“What have you there?” she asked curiously, eyeing the leather tome still in Kian’s hand.
“Oh, just something to pass the time. I hope you don’t mind?”
She raised a delicate hand and received the proffered book. She smiled to herself almost mischievously as she inspected the book and then its reader.
“And what are your thoughts so far?”
“Interesting. Especially the bit about overlapping realities, like a porous fabric through which life drips, from one layer to the next. The imagery helped me understand the contradiction of the fragility of life in one form, and then its permeability into other spectral realms.”
Kian wasn’t very good at reading people, though he was endeavouring to improve that shortcoming. He had lived in such a way that for most of his life he cared little for what others felt. In this moment, though, he very much wished he could read her expression. To his eyes, it looked a good deal like amazement.
“I had no idea that Master Grey was so versed in esoteric matters of the arcane. And in this language, as well? Do forgive me for... well, I suppose I underestimated you. Since you were away, I'd forgotten what a surprising fellow you are.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. I’m not rightly trained in these matters, but I’ve picked up some insights along the way, and… this is a subject which has recently become a bit more than theory for me.”
“Indeed? That sounds like there’s a story behind it, but I shall need to properly order my questions one after another.” She gestured for Kian to sit, and then took a large leather chair opposite. “At the top of that queue of questions should be the reason you came to speak to me this evening.”
Kian guessed it was now far past the midnight bell, but he knew well enough that this Lady lived by night. By way of answer to her question, he reached into his belt pouch and withdrew the vial of Black Tears that Jack had volunteered from his private stash.
“This vial contains a potent concoction that the Tiburon pirates called the Black Tears. It was made special for Goran di Frezzi by Jonquiere de Gevaude. Small amounts turned men into maniacs, and the concentrate allowed di Frezzi to fight like a demon. My concern is that it seems very similar to the stuff now going around Ladroa under the name Blue Lightning. With di Frezzi and Gevaude both dead, I figured the means to create this were lost… but maybe I was wrong about that. I was hoping you might have some insights?”
She took the vial and gave the contents a cautious examination. “Insights from the Lady dela Vara… or the Silver Snake?” She smiled conspiratorially.
“Either. Or both, really. I don’t know."
She pondered the vial. “The Blue Lightning is deceptive. From studying its traces, I can see that the effects are physiological, but it doesn't act on the body as other similar drugs do. I suspect this means it's a partly magical formulation. To create something like this would require an exceptional and very specialized alchemist."
“You'll see that the Tears are like that, too. Gevaude was an apothecary, but he also dabbled in some form of spellcraft... among other things." Kian reflexively rubbed his face, as if to scour away the memories of what he'd seen. “I’m real bothered by this. I thought this was something we had properly ended. Now we find something like it again here in the city, and it's affecting someone... that I have an interest in.”
She gave him an appraising look, perhaps wondering just who Kian was alluding to.
“So, this is personal for you?”
“Well, it isn’t professional for me. That would be your job.”
There was more edge to Kian’s retort than he had expected, and probably more than dela Vara had come to expect from him as well.
“Apologies. I don’t mean to criticize…” he began, but she interjected before he could finish.
“Don’t you? That has been your way after all, Master Grey.”
“You’re right. I am a shit-disturber. But I made a deal with Judex that me and Jack’s company wouldn’t cause more trouble. So I’m asking for your permission to look into this, because I’m sure you have enough to do already, and because I know something about what we’re dealing with... and because I can help.”
If she had been offended by the implications of Kian’s comment, she wasn’t showing it. Still, she looked uncertain, and Kian sensed she was holding something back. He wondered if it was the facade of rank and privilege that was once again on display.
“If you’ll let me.” He added, more pleadingly.
This was more of a struggle than he had anticipated. His strategy with Judex had been one of complete supplication. He rationalized this concession because of his relationship with Ingrid. It wasn’t simply deference to the man, but to the holy authority behind him. But beyond Kian’s newfound respect for the divine, there was also a newfound humility. Kian had fucked up, and Judex had called him on it.
From the beginning, Gorgones had seemed to him less condescending than other Mariscales he had met. Someone he might relate to. But he wasn’t speaking to some masked warrior now, he was having a private chat with Cardena dela Vara. It almost hurt him just to look at her – she was that beautiful. Her perfume was subtle and airy, but even in the large confines of the library, it coiled around his nervous system, threatening to cut off oxygen to his brain.
The truth was that he had been enraptured by her. He had only been in her presence precious few times, enough to count on a single hand, and yet in recent months he couldn't stop thinking of her. The nearer he came to Ladroa, the more her memory, the echo of being in her presence, became almost crippling to him. He knew he wasn’t himself around her. He felt stripped of all will, ready to do anything she asked, like a ghoul bound to her power.
He'd even reluctantly remembered the deceased Dona Malena, the Vaara who had used her blood magic to enthrall audiences in Ladroa’s theater scene. He forced himself to consider whether these feelings might also be some spell that Cardena dela Vara had placed upon him.
But here and now, something had changed... like those chains had loosened around him. She was just as achingly gorgeous and seductive to him as ever before, but somehow, she no longer seemed so unearthly. Therein lay a difference for Kian -- previously, she had felt like an ideal, like some mythic creature or a goddess. Now, things felt different - perhaps he was different? This past year, he had met beings truly beyond human ken, and he had both received their blessings and challenged their power.
All told, perhaps the Lady seemed less unattainable than before, but that wasn’t the crux of it. Nor was it that he, through his deeds, had somehow bridged the insurmountable gulf he had envisioned between them. It was something else.
“You seem changed, Kian.”
Kian chuckled. “Yeah. I get that a lot. I’d be sick of hearing it if I didn’t know how much of a cunt I was before.”
Cardena then did the most wondrous thing Kian had ever seen her do. She smiled, opened her mouth, then shut it again and bit her lower lip. He could only assume she had been about to agree with his statement, but had generously restrained herself. That little gesture was so relatable, so genuine, it was somehow more beguiling than all her ethereal beauty.
“Someone is surely making a move.” she said, catching Kian off-guard. He began to form a protest in his mind, that he would never presume any such intentions, but she continued speaking, mercifully unaware of his momentary inner panic.
“I’ve heard about these new drug peddlers. They are recent arrivals in Ladroa, perhaps from Malochovia. They have carved out their place with blood. Other dealers who trade in similar illicit wares - those without protection - have been cleared out. They are not operating out of the Puerto, but based on what my colleagues have shared, it's clear they must have a presence in Los Corredors.”
“Yeah,” Kian sighed, “I know.” He was relieved he had not blundered into a critical misunderstanding, but was crestfallen knowing that soon enough, he would likely have to deal with El Lobo.
After pondering a moment, she rose to her feet. “Very well. Go. Learn something. You have my blessing in this, and I will speak on the matter with Judex. But Kian, I will ask that you step lightly with the wolf. He is a very troubled man. And also… don’t set fire to anything, please.”
Kian stood, then bowed. Far from being admonished, he’d felt a flutter in his chest at hearing her use his name so informally. “Don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson.”
He started towards the exit, satisfied he had obtained the permission he came seeking, but then paused abruptly at the door.
“My lady, if you would indulge me one more thing. I did have another matter I wished to raise.”
“Yes? Well, you’d best speak now, while you are still in my good graces Master Grey.” she replied convivially.
Kian had been struggling to come to terms with himself since the golden hall of Kuyuu and his encounter with Saint Ingahild. He knew he had come back different from the darkness of the threshold. It’s true there had been the boon granted by Morza Uluyan as well, which had altered how he interacted with others. But he could not shake the feeling that it was the two nights spent on the west-marches of Auspenheim at the Inn of the Blue Door which affected him most at this moment. He now understood that he was capable of love, and could be loved in return.
And yet, his existence was now one marked by chaos, by darkness, by gods and monsters threatening his life and his soul. He belonged now to a strange, twisted, and hidden world. And so did the person standing before him… this healer, vampire, and secret justiciar.
In an instant, he realized that the spell was gone. She was not some unattainable ideal; she was a woman. Kian cleared his throat and looked directly into Dona Cardena dela Vara’s eyes.
“May I ask you to dinner?”
* * * *
