What Is Done out of Love

Prison Cells - 

Located just beneath the paved walkway of the Royal Prison's rotunda, the subterranean prison cells are a generally solemn affair, though well maintained. The stairs that lead from the anteroom above eventually flow into one large stone corridor which then runs between the various individual cells thank flank it on either side - five on the left, five on the right.

Though mostly devoid of comfort and adequate lighting, each cell is clean, dry, and well maintained, featuring a simple wooden desk and stool, and a blanket-covered stone ingress in the far wall to serve as a bed.

Each cell also features a groove in one corner of the room, complete with an angular chute that subsequently leads to a dark hole. Prisoners use these smooth grooves to conduct 'personal business' without having to resort to the more traditional wooden bucket, with Guardsmen periodically providing each prisoner with buckets of rainwater to 'flush' any excess waste into the chute, and then on into the sewers that run beneath the prison.

An elaborate desk sits at the far end of the main corridor for the currently assigned jailor to preside at. Torches stand between each cell, providing illumination, while small windows do exist within each cell, built up against the ceiling to allow some natural daylight (and air) to sneak in.

Naoi is parallel, stretched out across the floor. One hand is bent at the elbow, forearm resting against her lower back. She seems to be doing one-armed push-ups, and the strain of effort shows up as a light sheen of sweat, and the trembling of muscles nearing exhaustion. She has even given up the count, perhaps to save her breath. Her nearby prison-buddy, in a cell across from her, leers pleasantly at the woman. The guards? Oh, they seem completely unaware, but ready for action. Though one has the bored, half-dozing expression that suggest his shift is stretching on a little long.

Down the corridors walks a ...Freelander, at least most probably, though his bearing is enough to cause some confusion as he walks along the row of cells. Mind you, the fact that clearly the man's been out in the woods without a bath in days may well be contributing to the desire of most to keep a distance.

One of the guards looks at the man, an eyebrow rising up, but.... perhaps it is that bearing that gives him no reason to disturb. Watch, perhaps, but not impose upon.

Naoi peaks on the pushup, then starts down again, teeth gritted. She's all intense focus and willpower and shaking muscles. Leers leans forward, resting his forehead against the bar, "It's a shame they keep you alone, girl.... all those muscles could be put to real use."

Taran really doesn't move very much, but the bright argentite staff in his hands spins, jabs right through those bars at the prisoner leering, aiming to thunk the butt end solidly into his forehead. "Likely in breaking your fool neck," he says flatly. "She's prone to denying me such pleasures." There is nothing in any part of his attitude that suggests he has the least idea the guards might have a problem with the idea, either. Or perhaps he's just that certain that murder could be done before anyone might stop him, much as a bear might growl a warning when certain the human isn't going to stop it.

The bored guard is awaken by the solid thunk, and the squeal from the man, who falls back and cradling his head. The eager youth starts forward, but is stopped by a veteran sergeant. The man chews on his sweetleaf, studying Taran, but he.... doesn't interfere. There is a growled warning/request though. "M'lord, we know he is a pest, but there are laws in place to protect our prisoners. We will keep him quiet though. I wonder how many lessons he needs though." He nods to the younger man, speaking quietly. "Infirmary.... go ahead....."

Naoi is startled, dropping on her stomach, and arching her back to look toward the voice. A... smile? A bright, unsure little thing that softens the hard features and really gives an idea that despite the cloak and armor she once hid behind, just how young she is. After a moment, she moves toward the bar. "Taran... I, well.. first, hello."

Taran laughs, nodding a greeting. "Sorry about that." The guardsman gets another nod. "Understood." Back to Naoi, he notes, "I see you're keeping yourself busy."

"If I do not, I will go insane." Naoi responds, shaking her head. She doesn't even pay the prisoner being moved even the barest of the flick of her gaze. Though, she doesn't quite meet Taran's eyes either. "I.. well, it is frustrating. I called it upon myself though, and I have my chance, but I do not know I am to move ahead with it. Uncertainty in life. I think I understand why you felt so... conflicted when I spared you. How ironic that all my judgments should come back to me, and I moan that I am not strong enough to handle it." She looks at him closely. "You have spent much time in the wilds, recently." There is no way that is a guess.

Taran nods. "It seemed wisest to go where no scourge would follow me," he says simply. "And no one would find their bodies if they did. You are, for now at least, well?"

"Healthy of mind and body." Naoi agrees, one hand encircling a bar, and grasping down. "Yes, that is probably wise. That is not the only reason you did that though." The flat stare is a challenge for the man to suggest she is wrong there.

Taran studies Naoi thoughtfully, then says, "...I did not think you would want the sort of help I could offer."

Naoi just studies Taran quietly for a moment, in response. "I do. Even if that help is just a friendly face, someone who understands what I am feeling, that can give advice." She licks dry lips, and again, the eyes avert away. "I... well, you are my friend, aye?"

Taran nods. "And I could probably break you out of here," he says softly. "But that's not what you want, is it?"

Naoi looks back at Taran, gray eyes slightly wide. "I... was offered my freedom, through exile. I could not accept it. Not when the other option was dangled in front of me, but...." She looks away, tapping her forehead against the cool metal. "I do not know what I want, Taran. I am ashamed, that for a moment just now.." She trails off, looking back up. "You have a leaf in your hair. Come here."

Taran laughs, and crouches down, leaning forward so that his hair is within her reach. "No. I was imprisoned once. I walked out...without permission. Some have still not forgiven me for it, but - I take bars poorly, you know."

The leaf is plucked out, but contact last a second too long. A second too fond. Still though, she breaks it off before the Sarge looks back, leaf clasped between her fingers. She shows it to the man, to prove that she wasn't lying, and then drops the hand down to her side. "You are not meant to be caged, I don't think. Any man that would take death over a stay at Night Edge is a bird whose wings will never be clipped. What prison dared try to hold you?"

Taran lipquirks. "Northreach," he says, rising again, and offering his free hand to hold instead. There at least any noble facade would fade, calloused as the tips are from years of playing instruments. "People are fond of saying 'follow your heart' at times like this. Or 'heed your duty', which unfortunately often comes down to the same thing. A storm has come to Fastheld and it will linger yet a while. What is your *nature*, when the sky is dark?"

Naoi looks toward the hand as it is extended, and though there is a pause, it is a short one. Her hand releases the bar, still cool from the metal, and slips into his. While he bears the callouses of a bard, she has the imprints of her own tools etched into her palms. "I don't know. I... in childhood, when I was training with my sisters, we would gather in the darkest nights. I suppose... after all of my talk, it is to rely on others."

Taran smiles. "What is your *nature*?" he asks, emphasizing the word. "The world darkens around you. In absolute freedom to do what you wished, what would you do?"

Naoi stares at Taran, gray eyes widening. Her jaw loosens, and then the effort of dealing with the question, her hand firmly squeezes his.

It is a long quiet moment, and then finally, she responds. "To do, to act, to push forward. I... am not a creature of clever plans and vision. It has always been my way, for good or ill."

Taran nods. "This is your heart," he says. "Duty is turning the will of your heart toward your Kingdom's good, so that you are happy and it is served. What course of action allows this to you?"

"I don't see a way." Naoi responds, shaking her head. "The way is clouded, and though I have had goals given to me, I am here because I let my passion and my heart guide me. Is it not wise to learn something from one's failure, so it is not an endless cycle?"

Taran shakes his head. "Your heart is not your only guide. You start doing just what your heart tells you, you end up in a world of trouble. Hearts don't think, you see. You say your nature is to do, to push forward. Is there no direction or manner in which you can do that, and serve the Kingdom?"

"I... well, yes." Naoi admits, looking intensely uncomfortable. "There is something, and I have every intention of making use of it, but... I have no idea how it is I am supposed to start."

"Opportunities come fastest to those who watch for them," says Taran quietly. "Wait and watch, and listen. Like hunting, or fishing."

Naoi's expression smooths out, an almost relieved sigh given. "I will watch, Taran. I am watching. Thank you."

"Sandrim tells me... that you travel the Wilderness these days, rarely returning to the world. I know... that perhaps you feel as if you have been beaten down, and that you are happy there, but it will pass. There are reasons not to lose yourself to your feral side." She smiles. "You have gotten even better with your staff. I saw what you did."

Taran laughs. "It only worked because he wasn't expecting it," he says. "But...there's no place in Fastheld for me anymore. The scourges would happily hunt me down and kill me. I am not only a known mage - I'm a known mage who's been arrested for treason and released, imprisoned and escaped."

"No reason at all to stay in Fastheld?" Naoi responds quietly, studying the man. "No, of course not.. it is too dangerous for you here. I am selfish, even letting you stay here, however short of a visit it may be." She sighs, "I wish the world was different, but it is what it is."

Taran shrugs. "Not that dangerous, but not a war I wish to fight. Scourges come after me - what of that? I fight them off, or they kill me, and either way it changes nothing but the number of dead."

"Oh yes, except that you are dead." Naoi responds with a flat stare at the man, shaking her head. "You are so grim. Pragmatically so. They say -I- do not smile enough, but I believe that even I am less stone then you are."

Taran smiles briefly. "In any war...soldiers are expendable. What else they might have been is not considered. I am not so well-loved in this land that my death would cause any particular change in how the people think or feel. Any more than the Scourges that might die in my stead would change the realm in their dying. It is how one lives, not how one dies, that changes the world."

"Of course soldiers are expendable, you forget who you are speaking too. The grief, the regrets, that's all interpersonal details usually lost to all but the closest friends." Naoi responds, shaking her head. "It is good that you do not wish to fight. I would be concerned. Not that the Wild doesn't have it's own danger."

Taran smiles. "I am not exactly a pacifist," he says. "But if mages dying could move the realm, I cannot help but think it would have moved the realm centuries ago. I cannot mend this thing, I can only weather the storm. So." He puts a hand to the bars. "As...you showed, in your way. Drawing blade on the Archmage...it's only that it's such an unusual and well connected mage that causes comment, really." He sounds a bit sad at that.

"I think you are wrong. Things ARE changing, Taran, we are trying." Naoi responds, grimacing. "We are learning, however poorly that many suggest. You may be right, but I do not feel you are. You are angry at me for doing so."

Taran shakes his head. "No. Tshepsi made her will clear enough. And we all slip. But I want you to consider how scant the outcry. Whether just or unjust, right or wrong...the correct word is 'normal'. It is *normal* to have such a reaction to such power. In certain respects it is even laudable, brave. Virtuous. *Think* about this. What is a small thing like law, when weighed against virtue? Do you see?"

"I am not recieving many claps on the back, Taran." Naoi responds quietly, staring at the floor. "Most that I have spoken to, or heard, either think I am a joke or that I am a cruel beast. Law may not be virtue's match, but virtue is different for everyone. Law.... well, it is universal. I am here because of the Law."

Taran sighs. "There was a mage named Gale," he says. "She discovered that some nobles were forming a secret society to kill mages. She got...shall we say pre-emptive...and killed them instead. She was killed by a quite large and definitely angry mob. On her way to Light's Reach." His thin lips flicker a brief smile, tone musing and gentle. "A strange thing, law. But one has to believe in something, when Shadow is filtered through men and Light, refracted." He considers, then reaches through the bars to brush fingertips on her cheek, if she allows. "What did your heart tell you, when you drew the knife?"

Naoi doesn't withdraw from the brush of fingers against cheek, looking up. "I was angry, and scared. I was certain. Now, I am ashamed of that idealistic infallibality, but at that exact moment, I was so... sure that what I was doing was what needed to be done."

Taran simply nods. "Now consider the spirit of the Shadow Amnesty. The intent behind the law. What do you think their hearts told them to do?"

"To protect the Shadow-Touch, because past their taint, they are human and capable of making mistakes." Naoi responds, and though her voice is strong, there is a certain upwards inflection. Almost a question, but not quite.

Taran smiles a bit. "I think maybe this is a good thing to reflect on for a while. Those who made the law, I have met. I think I understand something of their reasoning, and that they truly felt it was the wisest course. Under the Light as well as for the sake of Fastheld. These are the two sides now, you see. You know well the stance of one side and I think it hurts you to know it as well as you do. Beautiful and elegantly simple. Consider the other side a while, without requiring a judgment from yourself as to which is right and which is wrong - it may be that neither side is wrong. But they are antithetical."

Naoi sighs, "What is one more puzzle to worry over? I will, Taran. Or, I will try." Then she does something very curious. One of her hands rises, presses against the back of the one on her cheek, and leans into it. "Thank you. For not holding my foolish pride against me."

Taran raises both eyebrows. "Now, that *would* be hypocritical of me," he says lightly. "As proud as I am. When one is commonly accused of arrogance, one should respect the pride of others. Or at least not wound it lightly."

Naoi laughs, an honest one, her rich voice startled by the answer. "Ah, of course. Hypocrisy, something we creatures do not understand at all." She pulls the hand from her cheek, after the brief nuzzle, clasped between both of hers, fingers rubbing gently across the knuckles. "I.. wanted to talk with you. About the night we, err..." The faint blush. "You know what I speak of."

Taran nods, smiling slightly. "Aye, I do believe I do."

Ah, that expression can be nothing more then relief. How embarrassing for her if he didn't, right? Naoi is silent for a moment, not looking at him. "I... just wanted to know if there was anything there. You said... what is that between friends? Is that the spirit of the gift?"

Taran nods, though slowly. "From friend to friend. You are now in a difficult place and on a difficult road. He indicates with a touch of his staff, the cell now empty of previous loudmouth. "That would have been a poor way to discover such a thing."

Naoi lips thin, and she swallows whatever she had to say down. "I understand. Yes... that would have been a poor way to have that introduced to me." Her gray eyes tilt toward the empty cell, frowning thoughtfully. Burning disappointment, humiliation, and a sudden bout of shyness bubbles beneath the cultured mask that Naoi usually wears. Apparently, that gift meant something else to her, perhaps she suspected something more. Still though, there is a hint of lingering stubbornness, which is likely her unwillingness to speak about it in greater detail. If Naoi is aware of the brush of his consciousness against her, she seems unaware of it. "I was not afraid of him though. I do not think he had the capabilities to be a threat, after all."

"Your road is a long way from over," says Taran quietly, and rather carefully, studying her. He chooses his halting words slowly. "I...find words do so little good in such situations. Love is over-used, regard under-utilized. I...hold you in good regard. This is something I say of very few in all the world. I hold you as friend, and this is said of even fewer. But ...I do not think that is what you wanted to hear."

Ah, caught! Naoi's grip on his hand drops away, and she looks up sharply. Gray eyes narrow in consideration, then she rubs her forehead, studying him under the gesture. "I will not ask of it of you." She seems certain of that, laughing lowly. "I can't help it, I just thought... well, it doesn't matter what I thought, does it?"

Taran gives Naoi a wry look. "You say *that* to a *mindreader*?" he asks, tone dry as a sand dune.

Naoi is silent for a moment, "Well, you felt what I felt, and turned it aside, Taran. Gently, for which I thank you, but... it is not just what I think that matters. Even if you can read them. If it is not returned, it is not reciprocated."

Taran smiles. "It takes two, yes," he says quietly. "But that does not make what 'one' feels meaningless. Even unrequited love can move mountains if the heart that holds it wishes it so."

Naoi just stares at Taran, jaw working quietly, then clams it shut. She simply nods her understanding.

Taran studies her thoughtfully. "It hurts, not having it returned. Hearts never think. They only feel. I do not give my heart, it seems to always go where it wills." Gentle but careful, he says, "Barely had mine limped back from Celeste's careless grasp than it latched onto Zia's skirt-strings. I think she has not noticed yet. A rather paltry gift it would be even could I keep it with me to give, bleeding and broken as it is. Allow me at least to be more careful with yours."

When Taran mentions Ziavri, she just withdraws even further, gray eyes studying him. Hurt? Probably. "Stop." Shaky, yes, but firm despite it. "Just.. stop."

Taran lowers his hand, setting both on the staff, which he leans on, and obediently says nothing. Just watching, with perhaps rather too much understanding.

Naoi just stares at the man, gray eyes wide and surprisingly expressive. It can be no doubt that she is hurt. "I won't be your fallback. When or if she hurts you, I will not be your second best." The voice shakes, another sign just how upset she is. "I still love you, my friend... but..." She withdraws to her bed, laughing at herself. "I am so foolish."

Taran shakes his head. "No. I can hear your heart. I have had my own treated poorly. I do not hold with 'one true love', but - no. I do not wish to do such a thing to anyone, and Zia would not be Zia if she allowed me to - you know that well enough. She cannot love you as you wish, but so distraught over worry for *you* and all that she cannot do for you, she wanders with me a while." He sighs. "Naoi...just because someone does not love you in the way you would wish, it does not mean they do not love you with all they have to give. Would worry over 'just anyone' set her walking the wilds? Do you think I routinely offer to risk execution to free someone from a cell? You think you are alone, you are afraid of the road ahead - can you not see there are friends at either side?"

"I know." Naoi says, looking back down. "You have both been loyal and kind. When, or if this ends, I will pay you both back. I swear. I have acknowledged the kindness shown to me by both of you, but you are angry that I know petty jealousy, or selfish thoughts that I have been betrayed. You speak as if I am ignorant, that I do not understand platonic love. I am at war with my family, Taran."

Taran shakes his head. "My heart has a long and storied history of being far less than wise. But that is less than relevant at present." He blows out a breath. "I know. Your thoughts, your ...heart, in a sense... is most akin to the scourges. That mindset I know quite well, yes. And yet I am still here."

"Why is that?" Naoi responds, still oh-so-quiet and not matching his gaze.

Taran abruptly grins. "Because you also have a mind. That is quite rare for a scourge, you know. Actually, quite rare for *anyone*, but moreso for scourges. You are taught not to think, after all. Not to question."

Naoi snorts at that, but the gloomy air lifts somewhat. "Ziavri... when did this happen, if I may ask?" A tense question, certainly, but she seems interested.

Taran shrugs. "While traveling. I have never seen someone see the world with the same sense of wonder I have." He cocks a finger at Naoi. "And this is important, so no diverting. Prize your mind. Scourges are taught that to question is to tread the road of heresy. Believe, you are told. Have faith. Follow your heart that has learned to have faith in these things. Don't *think*. Celeste is still a scourge in some ways. She saw something they did as wrong - not hard, as a lot of things were getting bloody by the end - and so rejected the Church completely. She tends to take the same view of any authority now, following her heart. What is *served* by it? Consider that. What does she *create*, but a small island where the world is inverted? It buys a little time, a little safety for a few. But *you*...you are doing something else entirely, aren't you."

Naoi doesn't exactly look PLEASED about having the conversation dictated to her, but... she does listen. After a moment, she urges him to continue by asking the particular question. "Oh, am I? What exactly am I doing then, Taran?"

Taran grins. "Thinking," he says, pleased. "As well as feeling. Where are your sisters wrong, where are they right, and why? How *much* of the Church is broken - how *much* could be saved and preserved?" He pauses, then shifts approach a bit. "Consider...your sisters, on the bluff, would have cut my throat. Why didn't you?"

"Because it isn't what a death that was earned." Naoi says, watching the man warily. "However much my heart had asked to ease the burden of the world of another mage, it was not what should have happened. I am glad I choose rightly, even if I didn't think so completly for Tshepsi's benefit."

Taran looks quietly amused. "Isn't earned? A mage that uses Shadow, refusing to accept an unreasonably light sentence? Daring to approach one chosen by the Light as an equal? Your sisters never taught you to think that way."

Naoi just stares at Taran, looking increasingly bewildered.

"You are changing, Naoi," says Taran gently. "Changing is harder than simple acceptance or rejection. You are thinking and acting on the judgments you make. I gave you every reason I had, to take my life. Why was death not earned?"

"Because... er, it... wait." Naoi says, rubbing at her cheek, irritably. "It wasn't right. Not only for you, but everyone else that you have marked and touched and left your impression on." She stares at the man, "Why are you doing this?" So lost, so confused. Girl-Priest indeed.

Taran smiles a small, almost shy, almost sheepish smile. "I need to light the candle before it goes into the dark, my friend," he says quietly. "So that it will come out again shining. Your sisters would have flayed me. You know that. Flayed me with the scourges, taken my eyes and my hands and my tongue if they had the time, and then my life, and called it service to the Light. And part of you knows why they believe that. You remember that certainty. I am a mage, tainted with darkness. Is not my very voice a lure into Shadow, every word I speak a corruption of faith?" He tilts his head. "Is it not every part of wisdom and purity to rid the land of me? Where, then, is it wrong to take my life?"

Naoi runs a hand across the stubble that covers her head, staring at Taran. "You are not just a mage, though, and I am not just a candle in the dark..." It is the weak response of a woman who has been under seige, whose walls are all but overtaken under the bard's relentless assault.

"To your sisters, we are these things," says Taran simply. "To many beside them as well. You are speaking words your family, that you still love, would denounce as heretical. Why do you say them?" Gently, gently...but very persistant. The bard isn't going to be diverted.

"This is ridiculous, Taran." Naoi responds, the burning oil of her defense being spilled down across the baricade. "I do not even know what it is you wish for me to say."

Taran raises both eyebrows. "Wish for you to say? I wish to hear your answer, Naoi. You left your family, your church. You love them still; you could have stayed. I gave you every reason to take a mage's life. Outside the gates, in the Wildlands, no one could have condemned you as a murderer - no consequence for you to do as your heart bade. You took a blade to the Archmage - and now sit tamely here, declining freedom when it is offered you. All I want to know, Naoi, is *why*. Why have you done these things?"

"I am doing it because it is RIGHT!" Naoi screeches at the man, the gates slamming open, breached. "Taking life because we don't understand is WRONG. Certainity is the crux of faith, but the poison that kills it. The people need a guiding hand, not a fear-mongering mob that cannot see two feet in front of their nose. There! Are you happy now, Taran?"

The guards shift, staring at the sudden interruption.

Taran winces at the sudden volume shift - those ears are sensitive after all - but he's grinning. "Very," he says - and sounds it, too. "And if you can convince your family of that - or even just a few members of it - your heart will change the world." He seems to be looking forward to it.

Naoi stares at Taran, pale and shaken. She apparently is at lost for words.

Taran offers his hand - to be held, or swatted, or whatever. "Only remember the path you took to that position," he says. "Your family is killing people, Naoi, in their certainty. But love is a far more dangerous weapon."

Naoi does neither, or.. not quite. Instead, she gently clasps it, and kisses the tip of one finger. Then rest her forehead on the back of his hand. Quiet.

Taran stands quietly with her a few moments, as still as she is. Then, softly, "...Do you want my rune, to call me to you?"

Naoi looks up, "Your rune?"

Taran nods. "You would have to keep it from your sisters, from...everyone," he says quietly. "But I can give you a parchment with my rune. Destroy it, and I will sense it and come to you."

Naoi is quiet for a moment, then nods. "Yes, I do... but if I use it, it puts you at risk, does it not?"

"That depends on you," says Taran simply. "I can only come to where you are. Whether you stand alone, or surrounded by people. But as long as you are *here*," and he indicates the prison, "I will be more prudent, and take a carriage."

"I am so weak. I do, Taran." Naoi responds, looking away. "I will not risk you though, even if I need the help."

Taran nods, unshouldering his pack to take out quill, ink, parchment. Using the cell walls as a desk, he starts to sketch on the page. "How you use it, and when, is up to you. But do not lose it, nor show it to any who are sunkissed or touched - they'll see the rune as clearly as you will."

Naoi nods, watching as the man begans to write, patient.

Once the image is on the page, Taran's quill starts drawing something else within the lines of black ink. But now he draws not with ink but with Shadow, and the line formed by the quill glows before the eyes of those with power to see. An image within the image, that gives the page its power.

There is little Naoi can do but watch curiously, brow drawing in curiously.

Taran hands Naoi the page, tucking away his writing implements. "There." He smiles a bit. "I should, probably, be going though. Will you be all right?"

Naoi studies the stylized image, then, after a long moment and folds it carefully for storage amongst her person.

Taran nods. "I had best go...but you can call me now, if you need. Perhaps that counts for something."

"It does..." Naoi assures the man, self-conciously brushing along the hem of her tunic.

Taran bows. "I'll leave you to your reflections then. Light guide you, Naoi."

Return to Season 7 (2008)