Closed Of Bread and Salt (Gile, Yazata)

[Konrad Venger]

17th Day of Fall, 516AV - Sweet Home, East of Kenash

Continued from here

Konrad had heard the story of the Third Eye plenty of times; he didn't need another retelling. He'd been there, after all, before and after; even held down the poor, drunken sod of a tattooist when Three Eyes decided he didn't like the finished product.

"... so I sez t'Kon an' the lads, I said "A man's gotta sleep, all men've gotta sleep, so best t'have an eye open, right"." A harsh bark like an old dog, and Three Eyes shook his head. "Gods, I was deep into me cups, ken? So, off I went with a bag a' coin and a bottle a' Eri's Constitutional..."

The boy had vanished, as far as Konrad could tell, but his light had not. The nimbus of orange and white was still bobbing ahead of them, lost around turns and rows and-

Hill. When did things get so hilly?

Konrad's knees and shins felt the difference before he was fully aware of it; then he saw the lamplight dip low and realized he wasn't just getting old. But there was another, larger glow on the horizon now. Every step brought them closer to it, for the pathway was leading them there.

Ahead of them, Gile and his slaves were leading the way. The man had asked a few questions as they'd set off and Konrad had deigned to let Three Eyes do the answering. It made him feel important, valued, talking with Dynast types. Konrad allowed him that fiction. It gave him more time to watch.

"... an' when I come to, this thing that should've been 'ere-" Three Eyes slapped a hand against his forehead "-was spread all over my nose like some bugger 'ad beaten me with a paint pot. Gods, youse can bet I was... not... happy..."

Konrad couldn't blame him for losing the power of speech. The Askara plantation was... not the Radacke's. That place had squatted in its territory like some reptilian beast squatting over a hoard of treasure. It was magnificent in it's scale, designed to endure centuries, but it was not a thing anyone but a Radacke could call "beautiful".

Sweet Home was possessed a much more universal appeal. Whiplash was imposed on the landscape; Sweet Home grew elegantly out of it, spread across the grass and dirt and mud with manicured fingers and gleaming white marble. The lamps were fewer than on the Radacke estate, but Konrad could see that in the stone and glass their glow was reflected a hundred time over. Sweet Home was a beacon of beauty; Whiplash was a warning of pain.

Either petching way, there's food and drink in both. And a bed.

"Now dat... is a fine pile a' bricks, ser."

Ah, subtle as always, Eyes.

Konrad waited for Gile to speak as they kept walking, allowing the whole scope of the place to engulf them. Gardens and lawns, hedges and torch poles, the marble columns capped by a great pale dome, like Leth dragged down and chained with stone. Konrad nodded his appreciation and dug around for his pipe. Snort or three or Swamp Vision never hurt, after all.

In front of them was a procession of slaves and servants (more likely the former). Not enough for a true visitation, just a handful of household lackeys Yazata had stirred, not even dressed in full uniform. They waited for the sole Dynast among their group to give them orders.

When they were a dozen or so yards from the front of the house, Konrad closed his eyes, and raised a finger to the bowl of the pipe-

Come... come...

It was so much easier now. Before he'd had to focus his thoughts for chimes, but now he knew... it was like talking a path mindlessly to a place where once you needed a map and compass.

Repetition. That's the key.

-and a wriggly little worm of djed slid from his finger and hung in the breeze. A tick later Konrad's eyes snapped open with a thought-

Burn.

-and at his command the flame was born, djed becoming a minor inferno that set the tobacco to hissing and crackling and in another handful of ticks his was puffing merrily... and flicking the flame out like he was tossing a match.

He stood there, waiting and silent, pipe in his mouth and smoke wreathing around him.

[Gile Askara]

Gile Askara

Listening to the man recount his tale Gile chuckled heartily when appropriate and played the part of the good audience, it'd do him no good to do otherwise as they walked. The familiar route to the home he'd known but not grown up in, but such was the Askara way. Shrugging off any negative thought Gile found himself quite amused by the man behind him when he surmised sweet home as being "fine pile a' bricks" not perhaps the words he would have used but they suited the situation regardless.

"Yes, let me welcome you two both to sweet home, home of music fine cotton and the sweetest tobacco. I hope you two will find your stay pleasant."

Passing by stues Gile enjoyed the air of superiority that being a Dynast on occasion allowed one to feel, it's like showing off one's trophy room. One thing the two men would notice was that the slaves employed within the guest home, on the Askara plantation was that they were all male, and about half of them bare chested at that, a peculiarity that only the Askaran's truly appreciated. Only the most attractive of men and boys graced the inner halls of any Askaran household, sense house slaves should be easy to look at and what is more perfect than the male form?

Looking at the line of slaves before him Gile grinned as he thumbed his chin appreciatively, all those before him were magnificent specimens even if Gile thought Yazata was prettier, though that was perhaps a bias on his own part.

"Alright lads, Lets welcome our guests, I want the table set with cocktails and i want to see a dinner laid out post haste, have a couple chickens prepared, beyond that surprise me. Oh and I'd like a lutist present as well, Dismissed."

With that the small assembly scattered, Gile wanted to groan inwardly he knew he'd owe an explanation later for an unannounced evening but thankfully no family was present, guests might find it odd, but Gile knew that the true Askaran homes were not where prying eyes could see them. Watching Konrad, smoke Gile frowned, magic was not forbidden in kenash, and often it was useful but such open displays were perhaps not the most pleasant when with company. Either way to decry the man would be an hypocritical act, but then again hypocrisy was a right of the privileged.

"Konrad, Eyes, could I interest either of you gentleman with sample of the local tobacco? I doubt you'll be displeased."

Turning to Yazata he smiled at him and ruffled his hair.

"Welcome home my lost little friend. If you'll do me a favor go find the man mixing drinks, and tell him to make something strong but festive, and if you think you can, learn to make whatever it is he makes, that's an assignment for the evening."

Gile knew Yazata got frustrated when he felt useless so he would give him a simple task to occupy his time. After ushering Yazata off he would show Konrad and Eyes to the main dining hall and seat them on either side of himself while he sat at the end of the table between them.

"Again, welcome, and let me thank you both for returning Yazata to me, he's a good boy if a bit daft from time to time. Oh and do tell me if there's anything the Askara's can do for you."

[Yazata]

Yazata. In the duration of their trek back, Yazata was keeping himself close to Gile at all times. Partially out of unspoken happiness because he was finally in the company of the one he knew the most, and regarded as his family in a place where he had none. But also, because the Eypharian was still unsure of where he was going if not properly guided. The humorous story of how Three Eyes got his tattoo -and now that he thought about it, perhaps the name as well- was one that caused the raven-haired youth to giggle constantly. Or, at least, what he could make out of the story. It amused him to no end that both Gile and Konrad appeared to be fully understanding the mashed letters and words Three Eyes strung together, without difficulty. He himself was laughing both with and at the man, although shortly after, the boy began to feel bad about doing that. Finding amusement in someone else’s misfortune is very much insensitive. Now that he thought about it, the pot-bellied man was not entirely that bad. Konrad was not nearly as garrulous. That man was more an odd mixture of a silent watcher, an irritable speaker, and an unlikely teacher. Not at all a presence that he disliked, or found difficult to be with, despite the occasional crude behavior. The veil of a moonless night was all the more flattering for the majesty that stood before them, at the end of their short journey through soil paths and rows of plants. Stone looked smoother and glass sparkled brighter, accented by the reflection of lights from artfully placed lamps. It was in no way comparable to the brilliance of Syna, or even Leth, but it was still grand all in its own right. The structure was a thing of beauty, and Yazata was one to appreciate that no matter where it is to be found. The garden bushes were trimmed, the flowers closed but plenty, save for a few nocturnal ones that remained in full, glorious bloom. Being the new addition he was to Kenash, his first time in Sweet Home left him in just as much amazement as it did Three Eyes, although his words of choice to describe the grandeur of the place would have been quite different. The greeting assembly of slaves was regarded with wary suspicion and an unmasked amount of confusion at the common lack of chest coverage. Were they not cold like this? When his master began issuing orders, the boy almost bounced in place in anticipation. He was, after all, the man’s servant, so he should be the one working his hardest for him. Although, as the instructions came to a conclusion, Yazata’s face wore a tiny pout. There was nothing that had been aimed at him, and all the other slaves were already moving in all directions; each set to do their own task. ‘What about me? What do I do?’ The youth almost opened his mouth to ask, but a familiar hand ruffling his hair turned the inquiry into a giggle. Happiness came in little things to him and seeing the smile on Gile’s face was one of those things. All six of his hands were showing his delight in subtle ways. From the way two pairs of hands were tucked behind his back, to the other two that crossed in front of his chest, and the remaining two hands balling in his eagerness to carry the Askara’s orders. “Yes, of course! Strong and festive, I will tell him that.” Those were the last words he uttered before he took off in the other direction, following some of the other slaves to where he assumed the kitchens and preparation rooms were, leaving the three men behind to whatever they had to discuss. It made him full of glee that he was requested to do something, enough to make him want to do it well, so he does not disappoint his owner. But that was easier said than done. It took more than a few ticks to ask around in order to find where he was supposed to go, and who he was told to find. What he eventually met, was a man who was so busy with what he was doing to first notice his approach, until the slightly awkward boy cleared his throat to make his presence known. For the time being, finishing the ‘assignment’ he was given was all that occupied his mind.

[Konrad Venger]

Konrad had to admit, the Askara didn't do things by halves when the arts were in question. If the exterior of the house was beautiful, the inside was exquisite. Portraits, landscapes, tapestries, carving, statues, all of them cluttered the place without hindering a foot of space. The house still breathed beautifully and Konrad smelled the allure of jasmine and honey on the breeze.

He turned a slowly-learning eye to the slaves, too, and saw that Gile hadn't been lying. Beauty, symmetry and attraction were the order of the day with them. It was a marked contrast to the Radacke stock, who were brawny without any beauty, obedient without any tranquility.

Oh, there's rod and lash and chains here, just like anywhere else. They're just a little more artful with it.

"Konrad, Eyes, could I interest either of you gentleman with sample of the local tobacco? I doubt you'll be displeased."

Konrad nodded his head and tapped out his pipe into the nearest potted plant. Well, it couldn't hurt, could it? The ash was just burned plant, after all. They were probably tree cousins or some such. Probably be good fertilizer, too.

"Ain't gonna say no t'good smoke."

"Aye, seconded!"

Once again, Konrad let Three Eyes' enthusiasm mask his own comparative reticence, and contented himself watching, appreciating... and patting his rumbling belly. Just the thought of a roasted bird with potatoes and vegetables and bread and wine-

Something bass and ravenous growled. A slave glanced at Konrad's belly for a moment, eyes wide. He curled his lip just a touch in response and the chattel's head snapped forward again so fast Konrad head the spine click.

"Again, welcome, and let me thank you both for returning Yazata to me, he's a good boy if a bit daft from time to time. Oh and do tell me if there's anything the Askara's can do for you."

The table was long and polished and Konrad guessed would have cost what he made in a year. The wood was smooth yet not hold; it held the warmth in his fingertips as he ran them across the top, just before he sat... and he felt no coldness in them when he did.

"Well, s'what good neighbors do, innit?" Three Eyes said with a grin as a couple of slaves padded in, bare chests like living statues, carrying bottles and bread and a fragrant little bowl that he didn't need to be told about. "Wee lad was off runnin' an' coulda' got lost. We were there, saw yer brand on him... what else could we 'ave done, eh?"

Skinned it off with my blade, cut out his tongue and sold him to the Radacke for a thousand goldies, Konrad told himself silently, sniffing the tobacco presented to him. Gods. The foppish Askara had not been kidding. But not tonight.

"Just remember," he said slowly, speaking clearly for the first time as he packed his pipe a-fresh with some fragrant herbs from the bowl. "We did you a favor."

He exhaled again, softly, through his mouth, and willed that speck of djed back out of his finger again. A tick later Three Eyes flinched a little as the flame spurted into life, twitching his lower jaw from side to side at the sight of his mate blatantly bloody showing off.

Konrad leaned back in the well-upholstered chair (gods, this is better than most beds I've slept in) and closed his eyes. The smoke was pungent but did not bring about a hazy stupor; he was lucid and aware and enjoying every tick. He exhaled through his nose and nodded his approval, toasting his host with the smoking pipe.

"Good stuff. Grow it yerself, didja?"