You Did *What*?

House of Healing - 


 * ''Maintained and staffed by the Royal Apothecaries, though assigned to the Royal Guard, the House of Healing is a two-story building located within the rotunda of the Royal Prison that provides a number of medical services to the officers and inmates of the local prison, as well as extending services to travellers and merchants who happen to require aid.


 * ''In terms of architecture, the House of Healing shares much in common with the larger Halls of Healing, though on a reduced scale. It is built like a utilitarian manor of sorts, existing as a roughly rectangular building that features one main hall and a number of smaller utility rooms. The main hall in question is equipped with a number of beds for the injured and ailing to rest upon and - in adherence with the high standards of the Royal Apothecaries and Royal Guard alike - is fastidiously clean and tidy.


 * ''Tall windows permit light to reach every corner of the building, and the scent of herbs and aromatheraputic flowers is a constant feature. Guards keep a watch over those currently interred here, while the Apothecaries themselves tend to those who are very ill or just suffering from minor troubles with a level of care and compassion that knows no prejudice.

Return to Season 7 (2008)

Naoi is laying in the bed, resting. She doesn't seem to be applying much thought to it, eyes open wide and staring at the ceiling.

The sound of debate can be heard, briefly, outside the room, before it comes inside with the creak of the door. "Cloth. Naoi Cloth. Is she here? You'd be watching her. You'd *know*." The voice is that of Ziavri Silverdew, doubtless familiar to Naoi.

"Cloth..." That's the voice of a healer, musing. "The little Ordinator?"

Zia's return sounds slightly irritated. "Aye. Probably her. Where is she?"

A moment later she appears at Naoi's bedside, looking down at her with an expression that says she can't decide whether she'd rather hug her or slug her.

Naoi was LISTENING closely. Shortly before Ziavri arrived, she allowed a tense sigh, looking for an escape that simply is not there. Of course, once she gets in, it's all passive acceptance and cool serenity. Of course, she doesn't give the Bardess much of a greeting, staring at the ceiling.

Zia contents herself with a fierce exhale of breath, and perches herself on the edge of Naoi's bed. Neither does she say anything, yet, watching Naoi closely, inspecting the lines of her face. The nostrils flare, the left eye has a slight twitch, the lips curl into a brief frown at the quiet inspection. Underneath the cover, a finger taps out a beat on her stomach. Naoi retains MOST of her calm during the trial.

Zia watches, noting each of these, and then her gaze flicking up to inspect the ceiling Naoi's staring at. She doesn't really expect anything of interest to be there. "Damn you." Oh, those words are quiet. "*I'm* the fool here, not you. Why would you do something so utterly *stupid*?"

"Because I am human," Naoi responds, after a moment. "Perhaps not nearly enough to be considered a good answer, but the one I am using for the moment as my best. You're not a fool." Zia shakes her head, biting her lip. "I'm not here to talk about me," she points out. "And no. It's not a good answer. You made a *false confession*, and you're just going to say you did it 'because you are human'?"

"Aye. I did what I must because I am human, and did something INCREDIBLY foolish." Naoi responds after a moment. "What I am protecting is valuable to me, and though you think me a fool, I am doing what I must because of that."

"Because you stabbed Tshepsi and Thayndor, you must therefore confess to torching Crown's Refuge and Night's Edge as well?" Zia shakes her head. "Foolishness topped by foolishness. But stabbing them... I think that was an honest mistake. A loss of control. But the confession, Naoi? That's scheming. You put *thought* into that."

"Aye, a day's worth of a desperate gambit, but scheming yes. Disapproving as well, I see. It is not that I am likely going to spend the rest of my life in a prison that bothers you. It is that I schemed and lied. Go away." There it is. The Ordinator turns on her shoulder, presenting her back to the bardess.

"I'm not going anywhere," Zia states flatly. "Just try and get rid of me. What bothers me is that you've gone and put your *head* on the *chopping block* for this. Prison's only if you're lucky. You are protecting the Sun's Keep. All that you've worked for. You knew that if you didn't volunteer yourself up as a scapegoat, they're the next logical step. So you did. Do I blame you for trying? No. But by the Light, did you *have* to dive head-first onto a cobbled drive to do it?"

"I named myself as a scourge." Naoi responds. "That my orders came down from Sun's Keep and I passed it on."

Zia grits her teeth. Maybe there's something relaxing on that ceiling, for she, too, tilts her head to contemplate it. "Then perhaps it is the opposite. Perhaps you are trying to keep them away. It could be that you have discovered something since I spoke to you last. Tell me why."

"What are Ordinators but the second coming, and the Cult a failed experiment? We have one strength, and that is our patience, our kindness." Naoi responds, shaking her head. "When we give that up, when we lose that perception, we slide off the slick precipe we are already on and the True Light wins. When word got out of... what I did, and that I was an Ordinator loyally, then? What happens? Nothing but ill. So, I am a scourge. I was apart of the attacks, those responsible named. Word gets out. Word SPREADS. They lose some of their momentum, and I am not a burden on what I swore to serve." Naoi responds after a long moment.

Zia falls silent a long moment after that. "Because you *made a mistake* you are going to condemn yourself," she says quietly. "If the Ordinators are a second coming, why sacrifice so much to protect them? Tshepsi was... is... perfectly willing to forget you ever did anything. Thayndor cares about you. *Thayndor Zahir*. He, too, is willing to forgive. In his own way. What you are saying is that you're some sort of Sunkissed version of Fallen? No. This, too, would fade, in time. The people trust the Ordinators still, to protect them from the Evil. You, of all people, would be forgiven."

"They readily accepted my condemnations with no doubt, it DOESN'T seem likely." Naoi responds, voice trembling.

"Who?" Zia asks. "Tell me who, specifically? I spoke with Meian. She was willing to change her mind. Kael does not believe it. Sandrim does not believe it. I do not believe it. Celeste... you have mentioned more than once that you two aren't on the best of terms. She will see you as what she decides she will see you as--all you've done is given her a little ground to stand on."

"Blackfox, Meian did as well, Tshepsi... Muri. Others." Naoi responds. "Norran will not let it slide that I tried to harm the Arch-Mage REGARDLESS. No, if I am to fall into my hole or into the executioner's block, this is the only way I can see that I will not regret it so strongly."

"...Taran described it as the Sunkissed version of a Shadow-slip," Zia muses. "Norran may yet let you go for it, if you are careful. But not if you continue to convince everybody that you are responsible for Crown's Refuge and Night's Edge."

Naoi eye-twitches, "What? He described it as... a Sunkissed version of a Shadow-slip?"

Zia simply nods. "A mistake. A brief loss of control. Is it true?"

"No. I cannot BLAME this on my ability. I slipped. Me. Myself. Chose, and chose wrong. Taran is a fool." The voice trembles, and one hand clutches the pillow. "I wished you'd go away."

"That's exactly what it was, isn't it? But you will not allow yourself to accept it." Zia reaches out a hand to lightly brush Naoi's. "I can't 'go away'. I spent half my day just *looking* for you."

Naoi jerks the hand away from the contact, falling silent.

"Fine." Zia sighs, folding her hands in her lap. "I'll sit here all night."

Naoi doesn't respond, holding silent.

Zia kicks off her boots, shoving them under the bed and drawing her stocking-feet up underneath her at the foot, just watching Naoi.

Naoi stretches out the injured leg, shuffling awkwardly.

Zia scoots over to give the injured limb plenty of room, though that's the only move she makes. She seems to be thinking hard.

Naoi doesn't seem to want to be the one that wants to break the silence, holding tough to her stubborn inflexibility.

And when the words, they are ever so soft. So quiet as to be ripples in the pool of silence, rather than an actual disturbance. But they do come. "I cannot save you if you will not help me." Zia's hand is buried in her cloak, fingering something in the pocket.

"What is it you think you can -do-, Ziavri?" Naoi responds bitterly. "You will pull me from the grave and the abyss I stand over and consider so patiently?"

"I will do anything in my power to, if you will only say that you are willing to be pulled," Zia says softly. "I seem to spend a lot of time trying to rescue people. I am not completely inexperienced at it. But I can't drag you back against your will."

"I will not go back on what I did, but I do not want to die, at least... no more then most do." Naoi responds, sighing, turning back to her back. "If I must choose between what I fear may happen, and my embarassment and shortening of life, then I have already let known which I will do so."

"Tell me what you fear will happen?" Zia asks. "What is an 'ill thing'?"

"The Cult's disbanning, in favor of the return of the True Light. People flocking to the church and it's teaching. Certainity is such a defining trait, that one can... forget that it is not always a good one." Naoi responds.

"You think all that will happen because you slipped up once?" Zia persists.

"No, but it is another blow that will weaken an already shaky foundation." Naoi responds. "I am not so foolish or proud of myself to think it could cause a fall by itself. Whatever you may believe."

Zia shakes her head. "I think you did something incredibly foolish. But we both know I can't judge you on it. No, Naoi, I don't think you're a fool." Pause. "Would you try to prove that you are guilty of this crime you told everyone you did?"

Naoi is laying on one of the beds, Ziavri sitting next to her. "It seems like so many feel that I did something utterly foolish and pointless. ONLY if I must. Like I said, I do not WANT the axe."

Zia's stocking-footed, having thrust her boots under the bed with every intention of keeping her perch all night, if need be. "That's good, at least?" She sighs. "What would you do if I tried to get somebody to prove that you *did* do it, and they couldn't?"

Light footsteps precede the entrance of Milora Lomasa, who looks down the length of the hall and approaches the (possibly ex-) Ordinator and the woman beside her. Her expression is wry, especially as she raises one eyebrow in Ziavri's direction. "I could have sworn my husband said 'no visitors'."

"Likely lay here and do nothing because in another week, I will be moved from here and down the courtyard to the prison tower." Naoi responds. She turns her head to consider Milora. "No correspondance, actully. I am sorry, m'lady, but I have no pen or paper."

"Then that is a place to start," Zia decides, and turns as she spies Milora. "Is it really correspondence when it's with infiltrators, M'lady?" She manages a faint, wry smile. "I had to do all sorts of mental gymnastics, as well as slip past a passel of guards and interrogate a healer to find her, you know."

Milora shakes her head at Naoi and then at Ziavri, her mouth half rising. "I don't care," she replies in a deadpan, shrugging her shoulders and seating herself on the empty bed parallel to Naoi. "I came to hear your firsthand account."

"Yes, you do, m'lady." Naoi responds with a wry look. "Maybe only because you wish to make an ironic joke, or spite him a little. I... firsthand account? I don't know what you know so far, your ladyship."

Zia falls silent, though she makes no move to go anywhere, and seems quite content with her perch there on the edge of the bed.

"Ah, Cloth, don't make me dislike you. We were always on such good terms." Milora smiles dryly, shaking her head. "I have heard so much as that you've confessed to ringleading Sun's Keep. For no evident reason, no less. That is all."

"I LIKE how everyone assumes it was for no reason." Naoi responds after a long moment. She glances towards Ziavri for a second, frowns, and then back to Milora. "I attacked the Arch-Mage, after she admitted to conjuring the storm that ravaged southern Fastheld. So, afterwards, I was... forced to set the blame from where it WOULD go, me and the Cult, and to me and the True Light."

Zia looks right back at Naoi, but continues to say nothing.

"I like how no-one believes you, and how you're not really trying to stand behind your story." Milora laughs abruptly, crossing her ankles and resting her elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand, then peering at Ziavri. "Do you think Cloth is capable of doing what she's said she's done?"

Naoi falls silent, one hand twitching underneath the covers.

Zia takes a breath, and does not look at Naoi as she answers perfectly truthfully. "Physically, aye. But it seems to me extraordinarily uncharacteristic, and I don't know where she'd get her resources."

"Hmm," Milora replies, nodding her head and grinning as she turns back to Naoi. "That's it, though. She's so young, and it would be exceedingly hard to imagine. And she's just so ... unthreatening. Cloth. What are you thinking?"

"People will believe what they are inclined to believe." Naoi responds simply, rubbing awkwardly at the leg. Milora's question goes unanswered.

Zia smiles ever-so-faintly, an expression vague enough to mean absolutely nothing as her gaze slides away across the hall.

Milora regards Naoi with that same amused expression, leaning back slightly. "How did you do it?"

"No? You're already a fish in a barrel, Naoi; giving more information won't make a difference as to whether you're speared." The Marchioness winks.

A bitter smile is directed. "I have nothing left to say, it would seem."

Zia glances quickly up at Milora at that statement, gaze both worried and calculating. But she says nothing.

"And what would that be?" Milora returns, eyes flickering briefly to Ziavri.

Naoi rubs at her eye with the palm of her hand, and then? Deposits the pillow over her face.

Despite Milora's return glance, Zia keeps watching. "Perhaps... that if the decision is already made, there is no point in revealing more," she translates quietly.

Milora laughs heartily, nodding her head. "Fair enough. It isn't for me to interrogate you. I do wonder, however, whether you really want to be taken seriously." She rises, clamping her palm down on the pillow over Naoi's face - but only for a brief moment. Turning to Ziavri, she winks again. "I would not worry too heavily for your friend. I like her too much to be this jovial if I thought she were up for the axe. Good night, ladies." Saying this, the woman turns towards the door, chuckling to herself.

"You should go too." Naoi says, sudden iron in her voice, and undoubtedly directed toward Ziavri, pillow lifted somewhat so she may speak after Milora's palm compressed it down. "Go do what you will, but you won't have any support from me."

Zia smiles wryly, and a little sadly, and rises from the bed. "I will go," she tells Naoi softly. "But I will return." And with that, she follows Milora out of the hall.