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| - It's a still night in a fairly quiet keep, and a clear night sky with no breeze at all. Two sounds therefore dominate the shadowed air; the water falling in the marble fountain...and a voice. A clear, powerful tenor, singing a winding, haunting melody that seems almost to be part of the waterfall's own music. Perhaps a somewhat unusual endeavor for a man dressed as a ranger. Was it the singing that brings Voreyn out of doors, or something else entirely? The Duchess does not let much on as she steps out from the main doors to the Keep and draws her cloak about her. Despite the lack of breeze, it appears that the woman feels a chill. Her stroll into the main courtyard is slow, and the sound of singing causes her to pause and look around for its source. It doesn't take long for her to spot the bard. "Ah hah," she murmurs as she draws closer to where the man stands, not at all secretive about her approach. "I thought I heard a familiar voice." The music pauses, then, making the silence loud for a moment as Taran looks away from the fountain. "Ah. I do not recall the last time you heard it," he notes. "Good evening. Rather an unusual territory to encounter you in." "Considering the last time I saw you, Master Songbird, was when you were behind bars and pretending to be a little crazy--I'd say so," Voreyn replies as she pauses beside the bard and turns to study the fountain. A faint smile of amusement plays about her lips. "But being in Wedgecrest? Hardly out of sorts for me. I'm rather surprised to find you at the Count's home, actually." Taran shakes his head. "I am a reasonably talented healer, and the castellan's wife is expecting a child within the month. Babies come when *they* will." Voreyn's smile continues as she clasps her hands behind her back, still beneath the protection of her heavy cloak. "Ah, yes, I had nearly forgotten about that. Then you are here to tend to your sister, I presume, which is very sweet indeed." The Duchess pauses and turns her gaze to take in another point of the courtyard - this time the path leading toward the chapel. "I have no desire to keep you from your duties, however, Master Songbird. I was thinking of taking a stroll about the grounds since the weather is fine." Taran shrugs. "There is a fine garden off the ballroom," he says. "I visit; I do not stay. Varal is all but allergic to mages." "One cannot blame a man in his position; I do not think he volunteers for /everything/ that happens to him," Voreyn replies to Taran casually, perhaps revealing more of her thoughts than usual. However, the smile she turns back to the bard is relatively serene - almost like a mask. "But I will take to the gardens soon, then. I place value in your tastes for beauty. Is there ought I can do for you or your sister while I am here, Master Songbird? I shall be staying for perhaps a little less than a fortnight." Taran indicates the fountain. "Sit, then," he offers. "Talk. I would assume you have reasons for all you do; I certainly would. Speak in the certain knowledge that I spend most of my time far from other ears and quite outside the politics of this kingdom. I doubt there are safer ears in that respect." He shrugs. "Or not; I would expect not." Voreyn glances to Taran, studying the bard a moment as she lowers herself to a seating position at the fountain. "Please do not take it as a personal cut, Master Songbird, but I reveal very little to anyone unless it has a purpose. I am not one who shares intimate details for the sake of establishing personal bonds. Not anymore, anyway. I'm sure you understand, though." The Duchess pauses here and pulls her cloak carefully about her, arranging the fabric neatly so that at least one panel rests across her lap. "But please, do tell me how your sister and her husband are getting along. I imagine she is looking forward to the arrival of her child." Taran lipquirks. "Yes, I do understand," he says quietly. "I do not particularly like discussing family. It seems to be safer for them if I do not. But I was not really asking for intimate details. At the moment I am only curious why you would be here; the timing suggests perhaps this uproar over Oren, but that...feels wrong." He shrugs; his tone is that of a man distantly curious about a puzzle. He looks skyward, at the red moon, but trails his hand in the water of the fountain. "Varal's on the edge of something. I wonder if he knows what it is." "Friendly visit," Voreyn replies lightly as she follows Taran's gaze up toward the moon. Hers remains there, however, and she lets out a quiet chuckle at the mention of the ex-noble. "Ahh, Oren. Poor sot. No, it has nothing to do with him. He was a mere trifle, and my involvement was minimal--but it served its purpose to the fullest. I believe his next step now will be to appeal to Duchess Valoria's exceedingly good graces, if he cares enough to do so. But as I said, it is a mere trifle and nothing to o with me. How are you finding Fastheld these days, Master Songbird, now that you may wander a bit freer?" Taran smiles slightly. "For a friendly visit, you have to have friends," he says, the tone...almost gentle. "Varal is a Mikin's Mikin; in some ways, he has to be. He might ally with a Zahir, but he would never be a friend to one. He's...rather reassuring in his steadfastness. Few people are that...solid?" He seems to taste the word briefly, and nods to himself. "Yes. That one is aware of what he is, and sees no reason to be anything more or less than that." He shrugs. "Fastheld feels...old, since you ask. The trails all walked, the sights all seen. Politics is interesting for its intricacy, and sometimes for a surprising level of banality - but wherever you get enough people who have nothing to do, I suppose banality is inevitable." Voreyn's smile does not dissipate, despite the fact that she turns a look to Taran that speaks of an underlying coldness. "So much criticism from someone who does little to dissipate banality himself, Master Songbird. You are not forced to participate in things you deem bland, yet you often act as if little that you do is really voluntary. Honestly, a man who sees so much of Fastheld should have a better understanding of his measure within it." The topic shifts with a shrug of her shoulders, however. "I am aware of the state of the Mikins and our relationships with one another. I would not be the Duchess if such menial details escaped my notice. But thank you for making sure my head is clear nonetheless; I am sure your involvement is purely recreational. Perhaps I will go take a glimpse at that chapel now." Taran laughs at that; a low, quiet laugh. "I'm not participating. Just observing, as you already know. You are too caught in your webs tonight; relax. I was not telling you how to fill your duties. Only noting that when you say you are here on a 'friendly visit', the words ring false." He shrugs. "I tried participating. I tried caring. You and your peers made it clear it is not a game I am welcome to play with you, and one cannot play political solitaire." He smiles a bit crookedly, though the tone's a little sad. "I watch from the window...when the curtains aren't drawn, anyway. And I try to understand what I see. How else to learn?" "Trust me, then, Master Songbird, when I say that my visit and its motives are entirely friendly, whether or not the Mikins believe me to be so in their heart of hearts." The Duchess's tone is quiet and honest, and holds no hint of malice for once. "Perhaps, though, you should try another game altogether if the realm of politics is not open to you. Isn't there anything else in Fastheld that holds your interest other than the mundane movements of nobility? I do not mean to say that you should not remain educated or cease to learn, as what we do holds enough sway over the lives of Freelanders that education is paramount. But perhaps there are options you are not considering." Taran considers this. "...Possibly," he concedes thoughtfully. "Though so far, only nobles have made things disappear simply by refusing to admit they exist. And few movements are truly mundane, which is what makes the moments of banality so surprising. I hear things, sense things. Surprising how small the spark is that starts it all, sometimes." Voreyn stares at Taran for a moment before pursing her lips in thought. Another moment passes before she inquires quietly, "If you are so attuned to matters, sense things, then why bother asking me questions when you already know the answers?" Taran shakes his head. "It's not like that most of the time. It's like looking at the surface of a river. You can see, from where you sit on the shore, the ripples and eddies and little waves. But you can't see the branch on the riverbed that pushes the water up, or the trout two feet down that makes *that* set of ripples...unless a fisherman brings the trout up. And then you can say, 'oh, that's what was making that ripple'. You can't really learn much about the river if all you can see are the ripples on the surface, but it's somewhere to start." "Hmm, I suppose that makes sense," Voreyn admits after another moment's thought. Despite having earlier mentioned moving toward the chapel, she has made no motion to head there nor to even rise from her seat. "So you can really only know something is coming, but neither the nature of nor what it may do--most of the time. Is that close?" Taran nods. "So I am always listening, when people will tell me anything. Sometimes it doesn't matter, which is odd when it looks like a big thing. Sometimes it matters a great deal, and I always find it fascinating when the things that matter most turn out to be small things." He smiles briefly. "So...yes. I'm mostly an observer. The river looks different, if you're standing on the shore or trying to swim in it. The people I talk to most find it as enigmatically useless as I do, but at least it means I'm always pointed at something new to learn." Voreyn lets out a quiet laugh at this, and the tone is one of disbelief. "So your purpose to figure your way through this giant puzzle, whether or not there is anything useful for you in the end other than having conquered it? Perhaps you have been sent to Fastheld for something far larger than anyone can imagine, even you." "And you wonder why I act as if little I do is entirely voluntary," Taran notes dryly, and shrugs. "I can't claim to be a seer. I don't get visions. It's just...senses. Sort of like when you can sniff the air and know a storm is coming, even when the sky is clear. The people willing to believe me - or at least humor my eccentricity - I talk to about them. And then later, they tell me what they think it was. And I put it into the larger puzzle." He looks up at the moon. "It is not that bad a way to spend a lifetime. Learning about the world." The Duchess waves a hand to concede the point to Taran, something few people have ever seen or heard. "I suppose you have a point there if something else has decided to knock you about. I hope it's just not for laughs, though, hmm? I'm only sorry that we never managed such an attachment, Master Songbird; I admit that your eccentricities are intriguing. But the sentiment is a too little and too late. Alas, how life turns out to be unlike what was expected..." Taran shrugs. "My bridges are burned, I think. But there are new ones to cross, too. It's a mistake to think that we have no free will. The river is made up of everyone and everything. It affects us, we affect it..." he shrugs. "I guess part of the fascination is trying to learn how much each way? The great events are set in stone because no one can change the minds of that many people that quickly. But sometimes I think if you knew just the right person to reach, at just the right time, the spark that sets it all off would never happen." A brief laugh, apparently at himself. "Of course the problem there is - if you do it, how would you know you had?" "How would you know it wasn't already in place for you to do so, and that actually -not- doing so was what would truly change everything? That sort of questioning, I think would drive you in mad circles, Taran. I hope you do not live life like that; there is still so much to enjoy before you decline into paranoid senility." Voreyn grins briefly and her tone is one of jest as she continues: "I would you guess you have at least twenty more good years left in you before you become crazy." Taran shrugs. "Sanity, like humanity, is a question it's really kind of pointless to ask of yourself. They're states of being that other people set on you. Someday, someone will probably decide that I'm insane, or fallen, and then Varal will fulfil his nature and try to kill me, which I'm sure will be a great relief to him, if other mages don't beat him to it. Do I worry about it? Sometimes. But I had my taste of trying to control hundreds of lives. It's not really a life I'd care to live. I have my work, my music, and my somewhat unusual senses. It works well enough." Voreyn allows silence to fall after Taran speaks, and she quietly rises up from her seat on the fountain. A shrug her shoulders shifts her cloak to fall into place, and she turns to offer the bard a deferential nod of her head. "As odd as I find conversation with you to be, Master Songbird, I have found it a great pleasure to speak with you this evening. I am glad for the excuse that keeps you about Wedgecrest, and I imagine we will run into each other in the near future, hmm? I beg pardon for my departure, but I'm suddenly feeling rather fatigued and believe it is time for me to retire to the guest quarters." Taran laughs at that. "It is possible, yes. I am attempting to to be under Varal's feet too much. But you..." he chuckles. "If you try to tell me it's a romantic interest you have in Varal, I will have to confess myself disappointed. I really do expect better of Zahirs than that." He doesn't sound disappointed though. It's more like the distant interest of someone reading a serial plot in a newsletter, where one can try to dissect the Story So Far while at the same time accepting that the answers will probably come in a future episode. All the same, for a moment he studies her thoughtfully. "A mixed blessing this way comes. You've left me to wonder if you're the bearer; *that* makes a visit here much more interesting. Sleep well." "Consider your fears allayed, Master Songbird: this Viper is not capable of romantic interest," Voreyn replies with another laugh before offering a small curtsey to the bard. However, the intent of her visit is left in the air, and she makes no move to soothe any other doubts, fears, or suspicious. "Good evening, Master Songbird, and rest you well also." And with that, she turns to head back into the Keep.
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