L.E.Y. 3252

Ivy.

... Then, to my astonishment, flower boy walked in.

For the first time that day I did not feel entirely in control of my situation. That familiar song in my blood called me; tempted me to draw steel and fight my way free. I could actually feel tendrils of Terrok's spirit tingling at my feet just looking at him, although not as strongly as they had at the church, with Clasicant.

My hand was already at the pommel of my sword when Maid Orluz rose to greet her guest.

"Sir Ill'Enniniess," Orluz gushed, taking his hands in hers. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

I was left half-standing, mouth hanging partway open in shock. Her reaction was not what I would have expected. Part of me ached to pull steel and run the blasted son of a bitch through. Part of me longed to clench my fingers in the perfect waves of his hair. Discovering an unforeseen option I didn't want at all, I instead froze while my stomach tied itself in knots.

"Please, love, we are too much like family to stand on such formality," he returned, bowing low and pressing his lips to one delicately gloved hand. "Must I have a reason to visit?"

"After everything that has happened, I was afraid I would never see you again." She wielded that pouty-blushy-coy thing in ways that made my attempts at the church seem ham-fisted. "And surely not this week. You seem tired."

"I admit events did not unfold as I would have wished," he agreed, straightening, "Had you but taken my advice and married sooner, we might have avoided much discomfort. Your match into the Faranado family wasn't so easy to arrange, you know."

"If I had," she said, a dangerous flash of dark eyes belying her civil tone, "I would have been left to the mercy of that beast."

"Ah, yes, the curse," Pertuli mused. "Strange, isn't it, how no one in his family had any idea? Usually those who contract lycanthropy do so in ... memorable ways."

Clearly uncomfortable with the subject, Maid Orluz suddenly remembered I was there. "Oh! Have you met—"

"Ivy Tyne, the Untamed  herself," he cut in, smiling. His memory was much sharper than his friend's. "I am glad to find you well. I have heard great things of your exploits!"

"Tulip," I nodded, unable to force a smile. "No thanks to you and your friends."

"Now be fair," he chided, nothing but smiles, "You have to admit, my help was the key to your success..."

"Yeah, yer a peach," I growled. "Was on the run for thirty-five years before they declared sanctuary. That care package is the only reason ya aren't slicking m'lady's carpets black with the bloody contents of yer spilt innards."

"And they are such fine carpets, darling," he said, smiling at the floor in appreciation. "Your mother has excellent taste." For all the world like I'd been making small talk. My knuckles whitened on my pommel.

"They're old fashioned anyway," Balina said with a quick eye roll. "But Miss Ivy, do control yourself. Sir Ill'Enniniess is a very old friend."

"Of course," I pushed through clenched teeth, "mistress. But he better watch himself."

"Always!" Pertuli smiled, the unease immediately behind him. "Let's get more comfortable, shall we?" He took Orluz's hand, escorted her to the couch, and sat himself beside her.

"What is this?" the tilwenor asked in alarm. He brushed the edge of her glove aside with a thumb before she pulled it away.

"Just a scratch," she answered. "A reminder of a careless moment." Moving to the nearby chair, I caught a glimpse of angry pink skin peeking out from beneath her glove before she re-covered it.

"Don't you have any salves for that?" he asked.

"It doesn't bother me," she snapped. "Now, are you going to tell me what it is you want, or do you mean to make us beg?"

Pertuli met her eyes and froze rigid.

She engaged his leaf-green eyes with her own willful black stare, for all the world like an adolescent about to throw a tantrum. He broke the connection first.

"Good," she gloated. "Let's hear it."

I don't think she realizes what just happened, I thought. The knight hadn't been vacillating over whether to let the girl have her way ... he was afraid.

I narrowed my eyes. What could have unnerved someone as unflappable as Flower Boy? Fully recovered, the tilwenor was off and running at the mouth.

"I'm here in concern for a mutual friend," he began. When Balina maintained her disinterested silence, he continued. "I speak of Lord Clasicant, of course. Riposte's fortunes have taken a sudden turn so remarkable, I cannot help but think some sinister intelligence is at work."

"Oh by the Singular Nature," she swore with surprising facility, "you aren't going to claim some pagan nonsense about the whims of Tali, are you?"

"Nothing quite so divine, I assure you," he said with a smirk. "Rather, I think that someone he may have slighted is taking a great interest in his ruin." He glanced at me casually. "Wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"Are you saying," Balina gasped in outrage as she jumped to her feet, "that I had anything to do with whatever it is you are implying?" I winced as her voice rose to volumes painful in Tilwen ears. "How dare you? I want nothing more to do with that scoundrel! That pig of a Tilwen!"

"Yes, of course," he nodded, also standing. "But you understand, do you not, how remarkable a coincidence it would be that the two of you have found each other on the same day he lost this," he said, and to my dismay, scooped up the blood-stained letter from the side table. "Call me a cynic, but I don't believe in coincidences myself."

"Oh, Ivy and I were just talking about that," Orluz said without missing a beat, although I noticed her outrage vanish a touch too quickly; I hoped Flower Boy wouldn't. "You might not know that she saved his life earlier today."

"Clasicant dropped that paper on his way out of the healers' this afternoon," I jumped in. "In such a rush, I figured on returning it in the morning. Curiosity got the better of me in the meantime ... Tyella—that yer noble friend?"

Pertuli's lips pulled back in a nostalgic smile as he opened the letter and perused its contents.

"I retained this letter in sentimental weakness," he said low, ignoring my question, "but should have burned it the morning after it was written. Oh, the trouble it would have saved ... I scold you for not marrying sooner, my dear Balina, because it would have saved you pain ... but the fault is mine. Had I the foresight to do what should have been done a hundred years ago, this entire mess could have been avoided. Your mother, had she been born, would have been less protective, and perhaps you could have married whoever you wished."

"What on Terrok are you talking about?" Balina moaned. "I don't know anything about that parchment but what it says; that you and Ri—Clasicant have been demented for longer than I've been alive. Take it back to him for all I care."

"Oh, I don't think so," he said, moving to the fireplace, and flicking the letter in. "What's done is done, but I've had enough of this particular fate-twister." He stood witness as it caught fire and was consumed.

Balina regarded him with impatience. Before long, they concluded their jury-rigged niceties and she ushered the tilwenor to the foyer.

"You might rest easy," he said in parting, "knowing that I intend to watch Riposte very closely in the weeks to come. You were close to him for a heartbeat, but I have known Rip for more than five human generations."

"On behalf of those human generations," Balina returned coldly, "and the women who had to live them, Lord Clasicant can go to hell."

She slammed the door behind him.

"Well that was like sliding down a rusty blade into a still," I observed with a frown.

"How did he know?" she hissed, spinning to catch my arm. "You must have tipped him off!"

"No idea," I told her frankly, "there weren't any loose ends, and I saved Clasicant's life in front of witnesses and priests and everything. He didn't mention it, but something tells me if I'm going to cash this bank note I'd better do it very early tomorrow." And using a fence I won't miss ....

"It is late," she agreed, reopening the door when she was sure Tuli was gone. "Watch out for that one as you proceed with our plans, and tell me the instant there are any developments."

Amazed, I nodded and stepped out into the damp night air. Still moving forward then. I gave a mental shrug. It's her coin. Anything goes sideways and I'll ghost faster than a buck hopper on passion punch.

I hadn't walked three blocks before the expected voice spoke behind me.

"Don't turn around," it said, softly. I hadn't heard his footsteps despite the recent rain—impressive. Coupled with the dark region of the street he had chosen, it was masterfully done.

"Why Tulip," I mocked; a whistle in the very, very dark. "If you wanted a tumble, all ya had ta do was ask." I sensed, more than felt, the bared steel behind me.

"Why has Balina hired you?" he asked. "She doesn't want Rip dead or you would have done it this afternoon."

"Don't flatter yer friend," I said, pouring disdain into my voice. "She has me blackmailing someone at the Guild Assembly. None of your business."

"And you just happened across his path?" He breathed. "I told you, I don't believe in—tut, tut—hands away from your body, if you don't mind."

Damned night vision. He must have seen my left going slowly for my thigh sheath.

"Believe what you want—" I said calmly, then dove into a sudden forward roll. Painful on the wet cobbles, but it was the only move that would save me from a rapier pointed at my spine.

I came up facing him, scimitar in one hand and long knife in the other. What was good for the gander... In my radiant vision, he looked like a silver silhouette against the vacuum of the dark street. With the moon shrouded by heavy clouds, the cobbles and building stones around us seemed to pulse with the soft, silvery magic they had absorbed over the previous day, and the light globes at the ends of the street burned a little brighter. He and I, though, were beings made of radiance.

Our swords, too, were bathed in the stuff. Strange that he would walk the streets with so valuable a weapon.

"Nice sword," I remarked.

"Same," he said, politely. "Tortelli's?"

"Yep," I confirmed. "I call it Li'l Devil, now."

"Cute," he said. "I don't wish to fight you, Ivy. Please, just stay away from Rip."

"You his keeper now?" I laughed, "does he even know you're here?"

"Sometimes I think he suspects," he said. I couldn't see his wry smile—radiant vision wasn't so precise—but I could hear it in his voice. He took a step away and raised the point of his sword. "Prodigy though he is, he would died long ago without someone watching his back."

"There's something else," he continued, as his enchanted blade slid into its sheath.

"Oh?" I asked, relaxing my battle stance somewhat, but keeping my blades ready and my ears sharp. "Do tell."

"Beware thy mistress." His quiet words seemed to bear great weight. "I've known Maid Balina Orluz her whole life, Ivy. From the moment she was born, until a fortnight ago at least, her eyes were always the most striking shade of gray."

"Gray?" I asked, bewildered. "So what is that supposed to mean?"

"I know not," he said, "but I fear for the safety of those around her. Sweet dreams, Ivy."

He tipped his hat in farewell, and moved away down the street. Clearly, unless I wished to press the point our interview was at an end.

I thought about Balina's jet black hair, and the gleaming onyx eyes that matched. Human eye color wasn't known to change spontaneously ... was it?

Fin.