Tyra Dragonheart - Daughter of Swords

[ShiffDrgnhrt]

Charlie quietly picks the locks to Tyra's door, sliding the bolt aside and peering through the cracks. Tyra sits on her bed, the candelabra lit on the table next to it. She reads a book, the title obscured by the door, still with her arms wrapped in sickly stained bandages.

[ShiffDrgnhrt]

Charlie quietly picks the locks to Tyra's door, sliding the bolt aside and peering through the cracks. Tyra sits on her bed, the candelabra lit on the table next to it. She reads a book, the title obscured by the door, still with her arms wrapped in sickly stained bandages.

[ShiffDrgnhrt]

Charlie quietly picks the locks to Tyra's door, sliding the bolt aside and peering through the cracks. Tyra sits on her bed, the candelabra lit on the table next to it. She reads a book, the title obscured by the door, still with her arms wrapped in sickly stained bandages. “You still alive in there?”
   
  “Believe me, Charlie, if I 'died' in here, the whole city would know about it...”
   
  “They said yer turnin into a dragon. are ya really? do ya got scales?”
   
  He can’t see her face behind the book, but something tells him she’s smirking at his question. “Who said I was turning into anything?”
   
  “Well, I heard one lady say you got the temper of a big mean dragon... and that iffn ya could breathe fire on Brother Aesthir, ya'd do it...”
   
  Tyra starts chuckling. “Well I can't say they are far off...”
   
  “Miss Tyra?”
   
  Tyra looks up at Charlie at the sound of her name. “What are you doing here, Charlie. You know no one is supposed to come in here...”
   
  “You ain't gonna tell nobody I came here right?”
   
  “Not if I want you to keep coming. You are much more interesting to talk to than Sister Merissa.”
   
  Charlie frowns some as he begins. “My ma went away again.”
   
  “Hmmmm... How does that make you feel.”
   
  He shrugs, but it's barely visible between the door and the door frame. “She were awful sick. And she's sad. She was cryin' alla time. I never seen her cry afore.”
   
  Tyra waits for him to answer her question.
   
  “She ain't had much time fer me. She was sleepin a lot, and then she went away again.”
   
  “Makes you feel like she doesn't care about you, maybe?”
   
  He shrugs again. “She didn't say goodbye again.”
   
  Tyra signs, a frown creasingher face. “That's how it used to make me feel...”
   
  “She don't like the baby.” He goes quiet for a moment. “Would she be happier if there weren't no baby?”
   
  “Yes... sadly.”
   
  “So it's a bad baby?”
   
  “No, it's not the babies fault. It's just.... complicated.”
   
  “But it's the baby what's making her sad and sick and scared, right?”
   
  “Yes, it is, but Bella must figure this out herself. It's nothing you can do anything about, Charlie.”
   
  The boy suddenly seems to be contemplating something.
   
  “Stop, Charlie. You'll only hurt Bella.”
   
  "I didn't do nothing.”
   
  Tyra didn’t smirk the way she usually does when he says that. “I know what you're thinking... You're thinking how you could get rid of the baby.”
   
  He scoots out of sight behind the door. “I didn't say nothing.”
   
  “Come back here, Charlie...”
   
  The boy scoots a little bit back to the crack in the door.
   
  “Do you love Bella?”
   
  His head bobs a little.
   
  “Then trust me, and let Bella hand this.” Tyra pauses a while. “So how has your education been progressing?”
   
  He shrugs a bit, once again.
   
  “Who has been teaching you, lately...”
   
  Again, he shrugs. “Bunch o' people,” he mumbles.
   
  “Aesthir?”
   
  Another shrug. “He don't teach me my lessons so much. I messed that up.”
   
  “Don't feel bad about that. He's not someone you really want to learn anything from.”
   
  “But he was gonna let me train with the big kids.. with the squires.”
   
  “Why? So you can feel insignificant among them?”
   
  “But I wanna learn how to fight monsters. Ma was teaching me afore... afore... you know..”
   
  “Don't be in a rush to kill, Charlie.”
   
  His voices whines slightly. “But I wanna be big and brave like Ma an' Prote.... Da.”
   
  “They are types of bravery that do no involve fighting monsters. There are worse things in the world then orcs and ogres...”
   
  “There is?”
   
  “Indeed...”
   
  “Like what?”
   
  “Like poverty and starvation, corruption and abuse.”
   
  “ I know it ain't good to be starvin. I been there.”
   
  “There are many in this Kingdom that starve, Charlie, and there are also those with Power that use it only to serve themselves.”
   
  He is quiet for a long time, whether listening or lost in his own thoughts, it's unclear.
   
  “You know I like it when you come talk to me...”
   
  Charlie nods a bit.
   
  “Your mother loves you, Charlie.”
   
  “She's gonna come back... right?”
   
  Tyra nods firmly.
   
  “She always gonna hate that baby?”
   
  “I do not know, Charlie.”
   
  “Well if she don't like it, I don't like it,” he says stubbornly.
   
  “Then I won't like you. You have no right to not like that baby. It has done nothing to you.” Tyra gives him a firm look.
   
  Charlie grumbles. “Yes it did. It made my ma scared and made her cry and made her go away.”
   
  “Axiom Seven. A child is never your enemy...”
   
  “Axiom?  What's a Axiom?”
   
  “A rule.”
   
  Charlie wrinkles his nose. “Everybody's got rules.”
   
  “They are necessary sometimes.”
   
  “Well this ain't a child yet. It's not born yet so it don't count.”
   
  “Do you realize what your thinking, Charlie...” She frowns. “You want to kill an unborn baby. You want to harm something that is helpless and just wants to live and be loved by its mother.”
   
  Charlie shifts a bit uncomfortably.
   
  Tyra shakes her head and looks down at her book, frowning and looking disappointed
   
  Charlie sniffles a bit.
   
  “Not a good feeling, is it, Charlie... To want to kill...”
   
  “But I gotta protect my ma,” he says quietly, “it's hurting her”
   
  “Are you willing to harm your father, too?” Her eyes narrowed on Charlie through the crack. “He is the reason she is having a baby, Charlie. Are you going to do that too? Make your mother cry more?”
   
  “He promised he wouldn't hurt her.” His face contorts, mimicking Bella’s stubborn face. “ I said he could marry her onna counta he wouldn't hurt her?”
   
  “He hasn't, Charlie. The one who is causing your mother this pain is long dead.”
   
  He opens the door a bit more, a look of curiousity on his face. “Who?”
   
  “-Her- mother.”
   
  “But...”
   
  “You are too young to understand, Charlie.”
   
  “I'm big...” His voice echoes with the stubbornness of youth.
   
  “You have a big heart, Charlie. That much is certain. But this is something you will just have to accept as being too big for you.”
   
  “I gotta go,” floats through the crack, “they ain't gonna be happy if they know I picked this lock.”
   
  “I love you, Charlie...”
   
  Charlie peers in the crack as she says that.
   
  “Get going before you get in trouble.”
   
  “Miss Tyra?”
   
  She once again looks up at the sound of her name. “Yes, Charlie.”
   
  “Can I call you Granny?”
   
  “Only when it's just you and me.” The woman she smiles and winks at the boy.
   
  “Okay...” A small smile appears through the crack in the door. “But don't turn into a dragon...”
   
  “I'm trying not to.”
   
  The door shuts quietly and the lock clicks as Charlie removes his mother's lock pick from the key hole, and he slips the bolt back into place.

[ShiffDrgnhrt]

Shiff walks into the Fort Vehl temple, asking Reus to see his Daughter. He turns over his greatsword, and for some reason Reus asks him if that's the only weapon he has on him.

"A'course it is. Who cares more then one weapon on them?"

Reus smirks a bit, then brings Shiff down to the basement to the room Tyra is staying in.

"Miss Dragonheart, you have a visitor..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Tyra's eyes nearly popped out of her head as the book in her hand slipped out of her fingers and plopped close on her lap.  "DAD?!"

"Yeah, yer mother's fairly sher yer mine, seeing as I'm her husband." He smirks slightly, as if it were a joke.

"What in the Pits are you doing here?"  Tyra always had a feeling he would show up, especially after Andrew said he was sending her father a letter.

"I dunno," he shrugs, the old man leaning on the door frame.  "A little bardy told me you were here and I thought, 'I've avoided coming to see you for too long...'  So here I am!"  He smiles, as if he were expecting her to.

"Go to hell, Dad..."  Tyra crosses her arms

"Yeah," he frowns, "he said you'd be mad..."

"You left us alone...  Alone!"

"I know what I-"

"WHY?!"  She throws the book at him, then wraps her arms around her self coughing.

"Cause I can't stay home..."  He hangs his head and sighs.  "It has nothing to do with Mom or you or Drakus...  I just can't..."

"Cause yer selfish..."  Tyra glared at her father.

"Maybe."  He sighs.  "You were happy before I disappeared though."

Tyra goes quiet suddenly, looking down at the bed she sits on, her arms now around her knees.

"Tyra, I never meant to disappear..."  He sighs, moving to step inside the room.  The guards put their arms in his way, shaking their heads.  "All I could think of all that time was...  getting back to my family...  You, mom, Drakus..."  He hangs his head.  "But I come back and find my daughter hates me, my son left home to study magic...  Sure Mom's still around but...  I lost my kids..."

Tyra doesn't look at him.

"I still love, Tyra.  Yer still my daughter, and despite whatever got you sick or the rumors I hear about you, I'm proud I have a daughter as capable and independent as you."

She looks up, her violet eyes dripping tears.

"Maybe I'll see you when yer not a health hazard?"  He grins a bit, tilting his head to see her face.

Tyra chuckled.  "I'll always be a health hazard to someone."

"Well spare me this once, alright?  I think I've been stabbed enough, you know?"  He rubs his neck self consciously.  They both frown when he does that.  "Will I see you when you're better?"

"Maybe..."

"Maybe?"

"You could always come find me."

He smirks, looking at her skeptically.  "You think I haven't been trying?  And who finds you that you don't want to, anyway?"

Tyra sighs.  "Come to the Arms reopening..."

"Alrighty.  You just better be there."  They are both quiet for a while.  Shiff stands up as the guard says they need to shut the door for her next check up and that he needs to leave.  "Get better, honey.  I'll let you mother know you didn't try too hard to kill me."

"I love you, Daddy..."  Tyra looks up at him with a smile, the likes of which she hasn't shown on her face since her father disappeared, 30 years ago.

[ShiffDrgnhrt]

The room Tyra has been held in is lit only by a small window, far too small for even a Halfling to crawl through, but it boasts a warm hearth and it not at all uncomfortably furnished. Along with a hearth there is a small table for meals and a pair of chairs, there is a comfortable bed and many oil lamps to supplement the light.  Outside the stout wooden door there are however now two liveried guards since it reasoned security breached during your stay.  Tyra wondered if Charlie knew, or Bella...  Her meals are ample, but not that she can enjoy since her stomach still rolls with uneasiness and forcing enough to keep her strength past the waves of nausea is a chore.  Various jars of ointment are present but none bring relief to the cracks and oozing of Tyra's skin. A barrel of cool water does little to quench the fever she often suffers.  Clergy pray and the learned of Rofirein visit Tyra daily but nothing seems to be working to lessen the woman's symptoms, buy comfort can be found in they do not seem to be getting worse.  About one month into her internment, about mid day, the door of Tyra's room swings open. The noon meal is delivered by not sister Merissa, however. In her place is a man, human, about middle years with dark hair and bright blue eyes. He stands in the threshold of the door and asks if he may enter.

Tyra is busy throwing darts fashioned out of last nights chicken at a unfurled scroll, sitting over the hearth, she was supplied the night before, titled "Law and Order." Her throwing arm is unwrapped, her own doing, while the other is still mummified. She glances at the door, then back at the book.  The unsettling cracks and oozing seems to have progressed up her arm slightly, a quarter of an inch.  "I'm the only one in the room, right?" she asks as closes her eyes.

"I am no mage or sorcerer to see, but I can assume you are." he replies, holding the tray of broth and bread out as an offering.

Tyra opens her eyes, but seems to eye something in a dark corner of the room. After a deep breath, she hurls a dark at the corner which shatters against the wall.  "Come on in... I think it's gone..."  Her voice contains a tinge of irony, and sarcasm.  She's been seeing all sorts of things ever time the fever peaks.  "You spend a month in here like this and tell me if you don't see things..."  She glances at the food and visibly shivers.

His eyebrow lifts only slightly as he shuts the door with a foot, then strides forward, setting the bowl and bread on the table.  "Reus tells me you offered yourself to the temple's care of your own will."  He stands at ease now, hands clasped behind his back and studies you from a distance.

"I'm not a prisoner, if that's what you mean... Though aside from how nicely I've been kept, I'm not far from one..."

"I would not think the temple stewards to be unkind or inhospitable to you save protecting the peace by keeping you here."

Tyra goes to her bed and takes up a fresh bandage roll and starts wrapping her arm.  "So who 'er you..."

The man wanders toward the window to glance outside.  "I am a friend or an ally if that serves you better."  He nods toward the bowl of broth.  "I think you may find that to your liking."

"I could be a friend or an ally too. But you seem to know who I am... Who. Are you...?"

"My name is Oslo Riglon."  He waits for any sign of recognition.

"The Baron?"   She eyes him suspiciously.

"Not until my sire's breath leaves him." He has a twinkle in his eye.  "Which Rofirien keep him, will not be for many more years."

"What in the Pits are you doing here?"  She puts her hands on her hips, tilting her head.

He nods again toward the meal.   "This isn't the Pits, or least wise one that would keep your soup warm. Believe it or not the masters of this temple are trying to make you well again."

Tyra sighs.  "Yes, I realize that. I am not hungry, though." She crosses her arms.  "What do you want?"

"Reus sent a message to the temple at Western Gate. Lets me just say some took interest in your plight and sent me to fetch you. If you have not had enough of this room yet, I shall take my leave."

"So I can go to another room? You know you nobles aren't the only ones with things they want to see done..."  She goes over to the soup and sniffs it, but doesn't touch it.  "What are they interested in..."

"You can consider my offer of passage to the care of parties more learned in your particular affliction. I will not force you to go."

" I know what my affliction is, and it's cure. What can they do for me, and what do they want in return.... Everyone wants something..."

" If you know its cure already then why do you bind yourself like a Sederian corpse? You could be free of your internment."

" Do you have unicorn blood, a dragon's scale, whatever else I wrote in my journal (which the temple took) and an alchemist who knows what proportions to mix them? Because I don't..."

He wrinkles his nose.  "You dishonor the noble beasts calling them by that base name. The Jhemina are creatures far more worthy of your respect."

"Never met one, and I'm sure Commander Creekskipper is glad I haven't."  Tyra shrugs.  "So what do these 'interested parties' want..."

"If you are not interested in my offer than I shall take my leave and you can entertain your invisible company without my interruption."

Tyra glares at that certain corner of the room again, then closes her eyes and looks at Oslo, intently focusing on him.  "No I've become quite bored of this place, and this..."  She holds up her arms and hands in front of her.  "The interesting concept of turning into a Drach has long since lost it's appeal, if there every was any..."  Tyra looks over at the soup again, then back at Oslo.

He still stands at ease, the expression on his face neutral as if it one of practice for him.

" Well? Are they coming here or am supposed to hallucinate them, too? When can I get out of here and get back to my life..."
"If you had been listening, I stated my role was to escort you in passage to them. As to resuming your previous activities I have no knowledge when that might be."
" From one cage to another..." She sighs.  "When do we leave...  And do you have any books that don't talk about Rofirein? I think I've read enough about him for an elvish life time..."  Tyra glances over at the bone punctured scroll on the hearth.

"With favorable tides, at dawn. While aboard it would be best if you kept to your cabin. I can see that scrolls of other subjects could be provided to you. Bound books are treasures not often taken on sea journeys except as journals."  The man eyes the wantonly spoiled scroll as he says such.

"Why did they send you, anyway?"

Oslo runs his fingers through his hair and grins.  "The Pits only knows, but my ship is fast and known as a merchant in these waters. She will arouse few suspicions is my guess traveling out of Vehl."

Tyra snorts.  "There are likely a half dozen other merchants they could have sent. Why a noble?"

He shrugs.  "Perhaps my father meant to punish me," said as a friendly quip.  "If my presence bothers you I will make sure you suffer little of it during the voyage.  Please, finish your meal."  He turns to leave.  "I will return at dawn."

"I'm still not convinced this is all charity... Who are these interested parties who seem so eager to help someone with my reputation..."

Oslo looks over his shoulder.  "Mayhaps you put too much stock in your reputation or the lack of charity in others. As for whom they may be, that you will have to see for even if you have no invisible friends , walls can have ears."

"You weren't afraid to identify yourself..."

"No, but I do not put in possible peril others without necessity. Even to satisfy your curiosity."

"Fair enough.  Hey, can you get me back my sword..."  She fidgets with the hem of her sleeve.

"Your belongings will be transferred to the ship. I will see your arms are stowed in your cabin."

Tyra looks down at her hands. She curls and uncurls her fingers, as if she were grasping something that's not there.  "Thanks..."

"One more thing..."  As he is closing the door the guards hand him a package , which he places on the floor inside the door.  "These are your traveling clothes, please be bathed and dressed when I return for you."

"Traveling clothes...?"

With that the door closes and his footsteps can be heard returning back upstairs.

[ShiffDrgnhrt]

The first rays of dawn start to creep in the window of the room and footsteps can be heard through the door.  Tyra, having been up an hour earlier to meditate and prepare herself for her day, is already dressed in the regal outfit that was given to her: a dress with a modest skirt and bodice, of quality fabric, silk by the look of them. A pair of calfskin boots that have a slight glow about them and a hooded cloak that is emblazoned with the emblem of Erilyn on its back, Sea blue dyed leather, wool lined, such that ambassadors and knights of the realm are known to wear. The door swings open and two people enter the room. One is Oslo the other a woman dressed in simple Rofireinite robes as Tyra's were. Her size and coloring is very much the same as Tyra's, but her eyes are as blue as the sky and her face rounder and fair.

"Lemme guess, your sister?" Tyra turns slowly, then looks to the pair. "How do I look?

The woman stays out of the line of sight of the window and gives Tyra a once over at her question.  "Walk across the room please."

Tyra looks to Oslo, then the woman, a look of thought on her face. She walks across the room slowly.  She then looks to Oslo and mouths the word, "Decoy", while pointing to the woman.  

The woman gives a soft  sigh.  "I am you and you are I for this journey."

"And you are?" She keeps her voice low.

"You are Amelia J'ost. Ambassador's aid to the Court of Trelania."

Tyra laughs.

Oslo frowns deeply. "This woman risks much for you and you laugh at her?"

"Are you sure this visit was wise, m'lord Riglon?" She rolls her hand, as if to signify them to play along. "She look awfully to far along..."

"You have your proof now," Oslo says.  Do not tarry long in her company as it is not proven the affliction is not transferable."  

Amelia nods and moves to stand with her back to the window.

Tyra mouths a question to Oslo.  "What do you want me to do..."  Tyra then speaks up.
"She seems awfully common. Is she worth it?"

Oslo speaks quietly.  "Walk close to me, keep your head down and for the love of dragon wings try to walk like a lady and not a farmer."

Tyra moves to stand with Oslo. She gently hip checks him at his remark then changes her poise, keeping her back straight and her feet together.

Amelia raises an eyebrow at Tyra's attempt to impersonate her.

Tyra shrugs slightly, and mouths. "What?  This wasn't my idea."

She hissed backs at a low whisper.  "I'd keep your thoughts to own as well, do not presume to know my nature but only my name."

Tyra just rolls her eyes, and looks to Oslo, mouthing. "Sorry.

Ozlo looks over at that.  "True enough, she seems more heavily burdened by her station that do we, but a quiet demeanor would be prudent at least until the Gull is safely away."

Tyra narrows her eyes at Oslo, shaking her head slightly, but saying nothing.

He gives Amelia a sign and a smile that implies a long and lasting friendship.  "Lady Amelia is time to leave. The Tide waits not even for your indulgences. Reus has the records you need, come with me."  He opens the door and motions for Tyra to follow and raise her hood.

Tyra raises her hood, whispering, "Where are my things? I have a safer hood and cloak for this..."  Tyra wraps her hands in the folds of the cloak, and keeping her cloak closer around her.

"Yes Lady Amelia, the chests of documents have been transferred to your cabin, as I already told you, come leave the woman to her rest."

Tyra nods to her double, mouthing the words "I won't forget this, Thanks," before walking out of the room, doing her best to appear 'proper.'

He looks at your hands as you grasp the cloak and whispers in your ear.  "The oil did nothing?"  He is reaches for his gloves to lend Tyra to cover her hands.

Tyra gulps. "I thought it was perfume..." She stops in the hall way a moment, wrapping the cloak around her as she pulls the phial out of her belt. "What do I do with it..."

The man sighs.  "There will be no ladies bathes aboard a merchant vessel, but I will see what I can do."

"Don't fret over it, Oslo. I will be fine." She smiles, then juts her head for him to keep moving.

[ShiffDrgnhrt]

Following Oslo out of the Temple, Tyra keeps her head down, and follows her benefactor to his ship.  The crew looks her over as she enters but leave her be, and Oslo brings her to a cabin prepared for her.  Inside she finds a chest with her things in it and an wardrobe full of clothes befitting a noblewoman.  She quickly goes about dressing herself in a comfortable manner, while remaining dressed as Amelia might, but making sure to wear as much as her equipment as she could.z

 Several hours after the ship has been at sea and is safely out of the reaches of shore, Oslo visits her cabin. With him he brings nine pouches of parchment in a small velvet bag. He says he is sorry that there cannot be one for each day of the journey but cautions her to ration them as best you can as they will ease the fever and sickness you feel, in fact since consuming the broth he brought her when he first visited, Tyra has felt much much better. He also explains that fresh water aboard a ship is precious and not to be wasted in a ladies bath, but should they run into rain he will direct the crew to gather as much rainwater as they can to provide for a bath in which to use the oil.

Tyra roams the ship as she pleases. He invites her to sup with the officers in the galley as none other than he know Amelia personally.

After dinner the first night of the trip, Tyra tries to catch Oslo in order to talk.  Tyra walks above deck, sneakily, after Oslo, until she's she no one else is around.

When she is almost behind him he speak out over the rail in a low voice.  "Try that with one of the sailors and you might regret it lady."  His tone is light and teasing.

"I doubt it." She pats her bolero softly, where her dagger is hidden.

"No body is invunerable, even you"  His tone a bit more serious but barely.

"By the state of my health, I am inclined to agree. But I am no prissy princess either."

He chuckles softly and reaches into his coat.  "Definitly not a princess at least not as any I am happily aquainted."

Tyra pulls the phial of oil out of her bodice. "So what's this?"

The captain pulls out a pipe and a roll of leaf , casually filling the bowl.  "Looks like a bottle of ladies bath oil to me." He replaces the bag in his coat and strikes a small flint on some ironwork of the rail to light the pipe.

"What is it, really..."

He leans on the railing.  "Really my lady, it is bath oil."  He takes a short draws from his pipe.  "Or verily it appears as such."

"Must this all be in riddles?"

"I see no riddle here"

"Fine..." She shakes her head.  "Then why did you ask if it helped?"

"Your skin seemed chapped."  Again he draws from his pipe.   "I have heard oiled waters may help."

 She looks around the deck for anyone else before speaking.  Her voice lowers to a whipser.  "Are you toying with me?"

"Are you so full of ill will that you must attribute malice to all?"

"Think of the position you put me in? You show up acting like you can save me and give me things without explanation. You have yet to tell me anything about why I'm offered 'assistance' or who is even offering...."

"Did you not willfully place yourself in the hands of Rofirein? Did you expect a few dragon hails and some holy water and all would be better?"

She sighs, looking frustrated.  "Can we talk someplace privately..."

"My lady it would not be seemly to join you in your cabin or you in mine. I understand how things may be different in your station but for the next fortnight an a bit you have left that for something else.  I understand how it vexes you to not have some measure of control, but some things are meant for faith and trust. Surely somewhere you still hold some measure of that?"

"After my time in Co'rys? It certainly doesn't sit with nobles."  She pauses a moment before continuing.  "Look, I know I'm a mean person but isn't there anything you can share with me?"

"There are far more snakes in Co'rys than those of old blood and houses. How two faced it is to paint me with that brush and bristle that I should paint you with one of your birth?  
I will share that you are not a fount of knowledge on all things and that for whatever reason someone has thought to show you mercy in what might await should that within you take hold.  Don't delude yourself that there may not be a price but it is not I that will barter that with you, but know that it will be fair and you will not be forced to do something even you may find distasteful."

She rubs her forehead, sighing.  "Alright, I'm sorry. I'm really not trying to seem ungrateful or vicious... But I hurt. All over...  Especially my arms. They are my tools, whatever you may thing of that. I'm just looking to understand."

"What can be done is being done.  All else remains in faith, be in gods or men or," he grins, "women."

"Women, then..." She snorts.  "What were those packets you gave me earlier? Sounded like... debris..."

"A lady whom I greatly admire intrusted them to me to aid the turmoil within you. At least that is my understanding.  I am more understanding of a mug of fine ale, the course of the stars and waves or a fine blade than potions and herblore."

"Herblore... Tea?  I guess it will help. So tell me about yer ship."

"What do you wish to know about her?"

"Well what's her name?"

"She's the Mew's Gull after the call that filled my ears as a child. You could see white wings from the towers of my family home."

"The Towers, huh? All you see from my tower is a swamp and a forest.... Though when the sky is clear and the Orn is full, he casts a nice light through the hole in my roof."

"Mayhaps that is why bath oil is strange to you.  With a roof like that one could bathe standing in the rain and have no use for oil." He smirks, teasing.

Tyra snorts. "Shoulda seen me when I was younger. I was so afraid to take my armor off I'd forgo bathing for weeks. My mentor used to dump buckets on my head, in the middle of the tavern at The Leringard Arms until I got the hint."  She then laughs. "My apprentice was the same way... Grew up in Vehl's gutters... Had to throw her in a pond once so she'd not smell like horse..."

"Don't insult the horse... Why would cleanliness be a fright?"

"Wasn't cleanliness. I was afraid of being caught off guard and killed... I was probably more paranoid then than I am now."

"I see..."  His tone belies his words as he shakes the ashes out of the bowl of the pipe.  

"I dunno why I'm telling you this... " The sick woman leans on the railing, looking at to sea.

"Perhaps a sign of faith."  He smiles slightly.  "Don't worry my lady, there will be no killing here, least ways without a good deal of warning."

"Did Commander Creekskipper put you up to this?"

"The less you know of it, the safer you both shall be if by chance things should go to ruin, but no the Heart of the Dragon had no hand in this."

Tyra sighs. She wraps her arms around her and starts to shiver. "I think I better go lie down...  I'm sorry to be a burden on you and your friend."

"May the wings of the Lord Protector shelter us from unfriendly eyes. Rest well my lady and do not fret. All will work to a good end I am sure."  He smiles.

"Define good..." With that she sighs and shuffles herself back to her cabin to make some tea and rest.