Quote from Mae on April 9, 2019, 12:16 am

Sitting in the sullen shadows amid radiant treasures, the woman thought silently to herself.

'Thrice I have cast my hand, and thrice bitten I have drawn it again. First, seeing both intent and intrigue cruelly dashed by fate's bias, and offered not the slightest condolence. Then, dismissed in fashion and thanklessly sent away by an ogre and his minions, whose own rescue came by charitable goodwill. Now, on that forsaken mountain; nearly the martyrs of a strategic plot and the sole victim of poison constituted alone for torture.  Thrice is too often to console a patient temper, I should think it fair now.'

The woman shifted on her sitting and rose, like a queen, to peer into the night through a crack in the heavy velvet curtain. Her eyes shimmered and with steely glint became nought but a crystal gaze, the eerie light stolen.

'I have witnessed too great a sorrow to let forgiveness become my falling weakness. I shall never be satiated until my curiosity drinks blood; or so it would seem. There is nought but one good reason alone why I should temper my blade before the killing. Though, he may forgive me in time.'

With a white line of moonlight painting half her fair features, and the rest remaining in shadow, the woman looked out on her restless domain. The red and yellow lights of cars raced by on all the streets below. Sirens blared in the distance. The light of Pinerich City, even in the darkest hours of the night, still painted the clouds over the horizon in hazy orange hues. Withal, there was only one corner  in the city, dark and silent as the grave, beneath the woman's view. There she turned her gaze and looked upon the grim cemetery.

'His counsel sleeps under the blue bonnets and yellow daffodils at the head of Honey Lane and Fifth... If nothing else, your likeness shall win me favor in his eyes.'

At length, the woman let her fingers slip down the curtain and returned to her dark seat in the corner. Yet, she sat but a moment before she arose again and paced the room. Her slippered feet caressed the elegant carpet beneath her heels. Then, at last, to her bedside she retired, and sat long staring at the touch-tone telephone on her nightstand.

Quote from Mae on April 22, 2019, 4:53 pm

*******

The next morning brought radiant beams of sunlight. A blissful autumn day enriched the whole city of Pinerich with sun-touched orange and yellow leaves. Life was as it ought to be in the city. Children were at school. Men and women in taut business attire spread like potting soil across the streets. On the corners, and in the avenues, people young and old made every nook and cranny look like someone's unkempt home.

Diane Betine sat on a sophisticated balcony, shaded by potted trees, near the glass door of the business parlor. People came and went, passing glances over the glass parapet to the park below and speaking in hushed tones. Inside, the sound of glass china clinked and chimed with use.  Outside, birds perpetuated their everlasting twitters in fast and obnoxious communication. Diane shifted ever so slightly.

Quote from Mae on June 14, 2019, 9:55 pm

A bird flit over the sun touched balcony and landed adjacent on a pot in the corner. It hopped one direction, then another. It stopped. It pecked at a leaf. It stopped again. Then it flew away.

Diane watched the bird over her glistening knees. Her eyes were content to observe. Her thoughts were faraway. She hardly noticed the man who came from the parlor and stood silently beside her chair. Yet, with the lapse of time, and when no exchange was made,  Diane cast a  discreet glance out of the corner of her eye.  She saw the back of the man's hand and recognized on it the familiar veins often studied in her youth. Moreover, the man's wrist was covered by a dark blue suit-cuff, a color so natural to its wearer that she knew him instantly.

"Good morning, father." Diane said. Her gaze followed the length of the man's arm to his fair polished features and piercing blue eyes, which looked narrowly out at a peaceful azure sky. She noted fondly the fine lines that etched his face, from the corners of his eyes to the creases of his mouth, and fancied his brow was made all the more radiant by sunlight.

At length, the man's eyes were drawn away from the sky, and he met the admiring gaze of his daughter.
"Good morning," he said, passing a crystal glass into her hand.

Diane lifted the glass to her lips and savored the aromatic drink with a soft hum.
Then she set her gaze forward again and stared over the balcony.
"I live for mornings like these." She said frankly, lifting her chin out toward the bustling city. Though she made no motion nor mention of the man at her shoulder, a sweet savoring of the company was also implied.

The man in the dark blue suit stepped forward and circled her slowly to the left  where he reached down and took the hand she held closely at her side. Diane's posture betrayed no bother at the touch, though last night's sling was absent. She gave her arm freely to her father's care and watched him tenderly caress her hand.
"It still hurts you." He observed perceptively. Looking at him, she smiled ever fleetingly. It was a smile that never reached her eyes, for she found the bitterness of bruised vanity hard to suppress.
"Hardly," she said, unable to keep his gaze and thus staring off once more with a proud chin. "It would hardly be appropriate, at any rate, to appear in public wearing one's weakness about the neck."

Mr. Betine solemnly kissed the space between Diane's first two knuckles and laid her hand gently by. Then he made a slow turn to the glass parapet and looked out over it. "I'll have the doctor reexamine it." He said peacefully.

Diane's gaze was drawn after him, observing the thickness of his course black hair from behind. The way he carried himself with squared shoulders, and how he walked with an easy pace always drew her fancy. He was young, she knew, and certainly in the prime of his life. Thus, carried back to an earlier daydream she pictured a majestic blue jay, sitting on a fence, all alone, with the sun glowing red behind him. Surely it was a somber thought, yet elegant all the same. She looked at the ground in silence.

Then, after a moment, Diane drew her eyes up again.
"Father," she said softly. "I heard that Eva has not returned from the mountains. Is that true?"

"You have no need to worry over that matter, Diane." Mr. Betine replied with equal gentility. "It is well underway."

"Nonetheless, I feel a responsibility to answer for it." She said. "Twas it not I who allowed the venture?"

"If Eva delays her return," the other replied impassively. "There is reason for it. You need not worry over her. She is old enough to take care of herself, and you have done your part."

Diane looked doubtful, countering mildly, "Ulric returned to the mountain after giving his word to me."

"It is good enough." Her father affirmed. He inclined his weight to one side and appeared at ease looking over the balcony.

"Yet," Diane added, glancing up as an afterthought. "May I prefer my own companions in the next endeavor?"

"Are you at some variance with Eva and Jodecai?" Mr. Betine said, now turning to face Diane.

"No," she replied. "Only that their loyalty to you makes them ineffective respondents to me. I believe a younger arsenal may receive due command more advantageously, and withal, youth lends natural agility and prowess that age and patience can little hazard to afford."

"Eva and Jodecai have been invariably devoted in their duty to the Svalnaglas." Mr. Betine said, passing over her tone. "Their experience makes them invaluable to your objective, and their loyalty makes them worthy of your good opinion."

"Was there not a time when Jodecai abandoned the Svalnaglas?" Diane questioned suddenly, "Have you any thought of the time he spent away?

"Jodecai has been a friend to me longer than he has been acquainted with his birthright. He came to it by misfortune, I'm afraid. It would have been well had he come into it from his parents, but they did not deign it upon him." Mr. Betine turned back to the peaceful view as he spoke, looking down into the park. "Fate has dealt him many unkind turns," he continued. "But he has nonetheless remained constant to our family, and performed many favors for me."

Diane glanced at the ground just so, unable to forget the recent information come to light. Jodecai's behavior the evening of the attack was more or less explained by the revelation preceding it. Yet, to think of the Calagathorm girl, twice encountered under chaotic circumstances, and once the victim of Silas' toxin, also of Svalnaglas lineage and the daughter of one so close to her family?  Diane dare not voice the thought to her father as yet.

"Perhaps," Mr. Betine said, calling Diane from her thoughts."If there is something rising in the varnished hills, it is well that we have such intimate connections to it."
"Let us try Ulric at his word," he concluded, turning now for the last time. "Let us see if he does not remain true to it as in years past. It might be that fortune has given him a playing hand, and we may yet come into information regarding him."

"Yes, father." Diane replied, now turning down her chin and looking away subdued. Mr. Betine stepped forward once more, and kissed her hand in parting. Then he turned, as if to go back to the parlor, when then he halted on a thought.

"And what do you think of Silas?" He said, now looking to observe her with keenness. Diane did not turn her face back to him, but he saw her lashes rise carefully with consideration over her slender cheeks.

"He is..." she said slowly, turning her ear ever more slightly to her father. "Able." She stated, and continued. "At least able to preform precisely with very little mental well-being. If ever he were rested and sober, I should wonder what keenness of mind might lend him toward accomplishment."

"Indeed," Mr. Betine said, and he went his way. Whether it was amusement or some other thought, he carried a smile back with him into the parlor.

Quote from Mae on November 6, 2019, 2:03 pm

Diane sat a long time in silence on the balcony, until at last her thoughts split and peeled apart to let other sounds sink in. As she noticed the music playing in the parlor, she lent her ear to it and heard the soulful sound of the piano. Each note, in melodious concentricity, created an atmosphere both of hope and despair in one whole. Like a liquid, the music sailed into her ears and ran down  her throat, pooling in the cavities of her chest and compressing her heart. How she fancied what it might mean to let it sink in - to give to it her feeling, and allow every pool to evaporate into the fibers of her soul. Perhaps, if it were to condense once more, the distilled tears would run freely down her face in mock of true emotion. Yet, disallowing its suffusion into her heart, and pulling free of the enchantment, she stood from the chair.

Other people could afford to be manipulated by another's passion, Diane could not. Yet, the talent at the keys was recognized, and she sought to confirm it with a glance into the room. There was, after all, only one person she knew who could move her with a tune, and she was not surprised to see him seated in the corner, swaying with the ebb and flow of his music like one possessed. Lest he be suddenly awakened, she entered quietly, yet she made no concealment of her presence and came to rest her hands delicately on the bentside rim of the grand piano.

The music played on.

Unhalted by any other reality in the room, the music ran though the talented pianist's fingertips. A tale of intrigue and passion was on every note. Then the sea of emotions at last receded again into the hands of its maker, and the melody neared its end. The final cadence broke through on a note long meant to be remembered; echoing through the room like the toll of a bell above the grave. Then the pianist came to rest in silence with his fingers still on the keyboard.

At last, Diane felt it prudent to interrupt the skilled musician and attract his attention.

"You play as lovely as ever, oh dear Apollo." She said. Her hand was drawn up in a slow spiraling motion as she rested the back of her hand against her white cheek. The pianist opened his eyes upon her, with his placid expression affixed, neither smiling nor being moved save for a glint in his eye; the subtle suggestion of surprise.

"Diane," he said. His tone was as equally unmoved as his countenance as he stood to greet her.

 "Was not Apollo the esteemed deity of music in ancient Greece?" Diane said, smiling, and willing to insist upon the compliment.

"He was considered master of many arts," the Pianist replied in passionless tone.

Diane, able to read him fairly well from experience in his company, understood the implication of  the musician's comment. It teased her lips into a curl, and sharpened her gaze.
"Surely," she said, "The ability to master many disciplines is as honest as the mastery of one."

"To master many disciplines would mean that time in the mastery of one was used elsewhere. Therefore, how can it be mastery over one more dedicated to the art?"

Diane laughed unbidden, and placed a hand over her mouth. The pianist was unmoved.

"Would you esteem yourself greater than Apollos, dear Abdaerus?" Diane said, implying neither mockery nor flattery with the suggestion. She ventured further, "Is not poetry and prophesy able to be acquitted equal to mastery in music?"

"No," Abdaerus replied. "Any divergence of interests takes away from the common thread and leaves it weak."

"And what of the rest of us? Mere mortals, unable to play a single tune though we command empires, build nations, and lay the bricks from the roads to the pillars of the capitol."

"Be it in music or otherwise," Abdaerus affirmed. "Distribution of attention cannot compensate as mastery over complete devotion to the art."

"Then consider me devoted to the art of muncipality and its several keys in likeness to this piano and the arts."

Abdaerus agreed and said no more. But Diane turned her attention to the sheets on the music desk and made gesture toward them.
"May I see your work?" She said, as if noticing it for the first time.
The young gentleman bowed in compliance and took the sheet music from the desk.
"Consider it a gift," he said plainly, bestowing the pages into Diane's hands.
"How generous," Diane said slowly. Her emerald green eyes caught the light off the balcony as she looked down to appraise the fine script.
The light of interest entered the young pianist's eyes as well, as he looked between Diane and the pages with subtle emotion. He dare not inquire her mind on the matter, and remained stolid until her smile returned.

"Your work is, of course," she said slowly... meeting his eyes again. "Magnificent."

Quote from Mae on November 23, 2019, 10:02 pm

*****

Another night was broken with a sharp gasp in the dark. Diane's eyes opened.  She found herself staring at the blue curtains that lightly swayed above her bed. A cold night wind still leaked through the velvet drapes. Her bare knees rested over the side of the bed, bathed in pale moonlight. Sweat donned her brow and laced her neck, though she yet sat in the attitude of a queen.

'What had caused the disturbance?' The room was silent but for the soft, steadfast ticking of the clock. Diane's weak arm lay on the bed beside her, and the touch-tone telephone on the nightstand just beyond...

Quote from Mae on December 6, 2019, 1:33 am

*******

The next morning, Diane entered the lobby to her father's office. She entered the elevator without her usual greeting, - as the woman at the desk was absent - and ascended to the office foyer. When she stepped out, she found the foyer similarly vacant and the curtains drawn over the large landscape window. Unlike the previous evening, there was a thick silence in the room. The grand piano in the corner seemed forlorn, and strange.

Diane quietly stepped into the foyer, and the elevator closed behind her. Gently, she stepped over the carpet, and came to her father's office door. A delicate turn of the doorknob revealed that it was not locked, so she pressed the door open and entered.
The office was liable to be considered a room to less privileged eyes. It was massive. Elegant bookcases lined the walls, with an intricately hand-carved desk between them. On the other side, a large, luxurious chair sat empty.
Diane came quietly to the other side of this desk, and pulled the top drawer open soundlessly...

Quote from Mae on December 7, 2019, 3:11 pm

As no window adorned the dark office walls, Diane left the door open a crack. All she would need was the essence of light just outside the curtains in the foyer. To her eyes, the room was illuminated in details she could recall with vivid color. The rich red bookshelves, the intricate ornaments on the desk; from the golden chain hanging from the shaded table lamp, to the silvery blue bodies of the fountain pens, and the white etchings on the spine of every book in the room; Diane could see it all, though none were the object of her interest. She sat with queenly grace on the edge of cushioned seat, and leaned over the desk drawer. Inside were papers and documents, none illuminated under her gaze. Carefully, and quietly, she turned each one, until, with sudden surprise, her fingers graced something solid beneath them.

'What is this?'

The question need not be asked. The object was lovingly and hauntingly remembered. Diane gently raised the two-inch pendant, on her first and second fingers, keeping the chain from trailing across the inside of the drawer. The pendant was made of white and yellow gold entwined together; A multitude of tiny white stones were held fast and guarded within them; and there upon the stones was the outstretched figure, plated in soft rhodium, and so gentle to the eyes though it be made of gold.

Diane's gazed on it. Her previous query was not forgotten, but at the solemn and unexpected find she could find no excuse to keep her thoughts from wandering.

Quote from Mae on December 20, 2019, 12:23 am

They danced together, in crimson and velvet blue, such a long time ago... On that night when the crystals of the chandelier glittered like stars over their heads. Upon her crown the stars alighted, while from her ears they hung. He swept her like the silvery clouds around the moon, and how her ballgown flowed! She was the river and the moon, pale and splendid. He was the dark sky and the silvery thunderhead. Together they danced in splendor and twilight, such a long time ago...

*****

Diane gazed on the solemn pendant, watching the stones dance in the dim light. When she restored the cross to its original place, it was exactly as if never touched; left to another day, another time, another memory.

Then, she raised her fingers, and perchance swept across the stack of paper within the desk. Several dark yellow edges caught her eye, and her finger paused. Then, she counted the pages and took a hairpin from her raven locks to insert in the stack. She spread the pages on the desk, and gingerly pulled the tassel on the lamp. A warm yellow glow filled the room.

"MAP OF PINERICH TERRITORY"
1902

There was neither state nor government commissioner named on the document. The map was geographically detailed by hand. All details rendered with professional precision, yet state and territory boundaries were omitted. The map appeared very unordinary in that respect, but of course, it would. It was not drawn by a government entity. It could not constitute an official document. Yet, within the precision of the lines, there was a discreet mark, so perfectly concealed within the vast number of lines that it was completely invisible to all but those who recognized it. The symbol was a quarter-full moon, broken in three segments. If the artist's name was not known, his rank certainly was; He was an elite Svalnaglas Border Guard. 

Quote from Mae on December 20, 2019, 12:56 am

Here, at last, Diane found her query: A map of the Svalnaglas territory; the invisible, unassailable line surrounding her world; a line known only to the wisest of the race. From the southern hills to the great mountains, expanding in a long  circle, encompassing the valley and railroads of Middlecrest, and extending through the mountain pass to Lambridge, the Svalnaglas territory lay indomitable. Yet, at its heart was the secret Diane came to discover, for the only break in the impassable circle was a small, inconsequential ring of mountains in the upper right corner, vacant of all details and outlines. The whole territory of the Svalnaglas was thus fittingly in shape like a crescent moon; whole, if not for the void left by the Varnished Hills.