Title: Evil in the Eye of the Beholder
Date: Sunday, January 30, 2000

The Rialto - Haven

Late morning, and the weather is worse then it was yesterday. A deep blue cloak is flung around Listle as she makes her way into the Rialto. Her head is bowed and little attention is given to the passerbys who jostle the young Empyrean on all sides.

Jehan stops his speech suddenly, and a look of concentration comes to his face. He motions to a nearby groupy. "Do you hear that? That... jingling?" At the man's confirmation, he looks around, and frowns as he notices the heavily laden mongrel running towards the group. When the mongrel is close enough to hear, his firm, cold voice calls out, "What is your business with us?"

Surprised at being spoken to without thoroughly making a nuisance of himself, Westly recovers quickly. "Oh!" he says, smiling widely. "My name is Westly, and I'm a Bard. Well, a Master Bard, that is," he says, nodding emphatically. "And a lot of other things, but, ah," he notices the not-so-happy looks of the crowd, "I'll save talking about those for later. I was just noticing how you're talking about this Resolution, and usupers, and Thalia, and I was wondering what you were talking about. Well, I know what usurper means, because it's pretty common in epics, but I don't know what Thalia is. It sounds rather like a flower, but I wouldn't imagine you'd be so against a flower. Is it a person, maybe? Maybe he doesn't give money to street performers and throws fruit at them, I hate people like that..." Westly is totally absorbed in his monologue and doesn't realize he's gone off on a tangent.

Entering the market place is yet another someone; just one in the steady stream of Rialto-shoppers who are eager to get out there, burning with the desire to push and jostle for a nice, refreshing shopping trip in the freezing rain... armed with scowls and stern expressions to really heighten the mood of a cold winter's morning. This one doesn't look over-eager. She looks rather lazy, really. Seemingly without any real aim, the small brown feet carry Lailah lightly into the square from the north, as large green eyes blink out from above the edge of her veil, travelling over the thickening throng.

Jehan looks about to retort, but stops, a crafty smile drifting to his lips. Here's an opportunity. His voice now kinder, he beckons to the mongrel. "Come a bit closer, Imphadi. Yes, it is just as you saw it. This Thalia is a person who doesn't support the performers. Horrible, really. She treats you folk just terribly. Now listen - would you like to help us teach this Thalia a bit of a lesson?" His crafty grin has now spread through all of his face.

The wind and the crowds finally gained Listle's attention. Why was she so absorbed anyways? It seems that last night she had gotten into yet another philosophical discussion about race. Speaking about race, a familiar voice reaches her ears and her eyes widen as she recognizes Westly right opposite her, speaking to a group of.. Varatis? Her wings flutter apprehensively. Should she even bother approaching Westly? The last time they talked.. he had accused her of having Empyrean mannerism. Which quite confused her. What is wrong with Empyrean mannerisms anyways?

Touching a finger to his lips absently, Westly furrows his brow in thought, and not a little bit of confusion. "A lesson?" he squeaks. "Do you mean like school lessons? Because, truth be told, I'm not a really good teacher, I guess because I'd rather talk about interesting things, like poems and songs and Interesting People, and things I've done, than talk about arithmetic and geography and politics. But I can still count!" he adds, assuringly. "I just don't really like to talk about it much. I'd rather talk about bardic things. Like this poem I'm writing. It's called Song of the Hammer, and it's almost done, I swear, and by the way, do you know any smiths, because I've been meaning to talk to one, and Thenomain's been sort of busy, and said he had other things to do, and I'm sure he does, but I only really want to see him doing smith things, and I wouldn't mind if he didn't talk to me at all..." As Westly speaks, he slowly picks up in speed.

What is this? Someone talking about Thalia? The pale emerald eyes lash over to fasten on that rather large group which seems to be mostly Varati. A tilt to her head, and the frizzled raven locks spill to one side of Lailah's face as the people in question are taken in. Ever the curious creature, was she; soon the liquid steps take the naraki closer to the gathering. The easy gait weaves her slight form through the crowds with ease; sidestepping a cart here, leaping out of the way for a fat merchant there, while her attention all the while is set on this point ahead. Quick, deft motions, evidence of someone with long experience of this environment.

Jehan frowns now, and he slowly steps from his platform. The small crowd dissolves around his path as he makes his way slowly towards Westly. In a hushed, grating tone, not to be overheard, "Thalia is an important person. But she is one of the greater evils of this world. My group will take her from power and cease the harm that she does us all. Would you aid us?" he asks simply. "A man of your profession would be very usefull to us. You would achieve quite a high standing." His tone is still hushed, although the last sentance is spoken slightly louder, for effect.

Considerations of turning back are thrown away when the name of Thalia is heard. Listle's head swings sharply to the muscular Varati that the bard is speaking to. Why are they so interested in her cousin? A tentative step, and Listle has come closer to the gathering. She consciously moves her cloak closer around her body, trying to hide the large wings that sprout from her back.

Westly scratches his head, looking rather stupid. "Ummmm..." he mumbles. "She's evil? Like what did she do? I mean, is she like ordinary 'evil', like people say about thieves and stuff, or is she like a villain, that the hero always has to get rid of? Because, I rather like thieves, if they don't take my things, and I usually catch them, anyway, but villains should probably be gotten rid of, but I don't usually involve myself because I have so many other things to do, but I guess I could stop writing poetry and maybe this could be my epic...Yeah!" Westly all of a sudden becomes really enthusiastic. "I mean, any great heroic act needs a bard along, otherwise, people might forget about it. And I can fight, kind of, like I did against the sea monster, only that was really more helping the wounded and not fighting, except for the time I threw my boot at it, but you get the idea. And I had a trident, but I gave it back, because it was too heavy to carry around."

Right. Someone babbling like an idiot. The dark girl eyes Westly with interest as she finally draws up at the edge of the little mass of people - then Jehan, as the same moves closer to the seemingly... hrm, inane mongrel. A frown pulls Lailah's black brows down over her eyes; a concidering purse of full lips behind the obscuring veil.

Jehan grins again. "Yes, just so. Just so." He smiles. "So you will join Us? You will enter the ranks of Resolution Eclipse?" He frowns as a few inquisitive people start coming a bit too close, and a few vague gestures has him and Westly surrounded by the crowd of groupees.

Slipping here, pushing there and suddenly a soft pale hand rests on Westly's shoulder. Listle turns on the brightest smile that she can put on. "Westly! How are you? I have been thinking about the things you said last time. And you know what, some of it actually made sense. In fact, I just had a long talk with my cousin, Atalanta. She is a strange woman you know, a warrior woman, goes around in armour. As if woman should go around in armour, but hey, this is Haven, a lot of things happen strangely. Not that it is necessarily wrong, like the discussion we had on manners and stuff. So, would you like to have lunch with me? Maybe we can exchange same ballads. You should hear a song I learned a few weeks ago. A crack on a chair (in the Siren's song.) All three variations of it." She then tugs him away from the crown of Varatis. It looks like Listle has been picking up some skills from Westly.

Surrounded by people hanging on his next words, and Westly is uncomfortable? A truly new experience for the Bard! When Listle comes nearby, Westly truly begins looking to be going into overload. "Join? Atalanta? Eclipse? Cousin? Ranks? Ballads?" The last word comes out with significantly more enthusiasm than the rest, and Westly becomes animated. He looks from Listle to Jehan, then blurts out, "I would really hate to deny you my services as a Bard if you really need them... Listle, have you met this gentleman? He's with the Resolution of Eclipses, or something, and he's really quite nice. Have you met Listle, Mister, ah...." he says to Jehan.

A cold glare and a sneer is the only greeting given to Listle by Jehan. "The bard and I were talking. I will thank you to leave us to our conversation, Empyrean."

A scowl as those Varati move in to obscure the two which seem to be the center of everyone's attention; a frustrated exhale which sends the veil in front of her face aflutter, and Lailah settles for watching the spectacle at a subtle distance, i.e. as close as she can get without getting picked up by her skirts and hauled out into the sea of people nose-first. Straining to hear what this is all about, but the cat's eyes are already roving the rest of the market place for other events that might be more interesting.

Listle's eyes widen. Wasn't that the name of the cult that is trying to overthrow Thalia? Listle is not too fond of Thalia's views, but forming a cult around it is rather extreme. Well, but then cults are usually extreme. The wheels in her mind goes into overdrive as she realizes the danger that could come of this if they find out she is even vaguely related to the Maharani. Perhaps her brother was right, she should always go around with one of Kaly's golden boys. A tug at Westly's sleeve, plainly ignoring the slab of rock that is Jehan. "Come, you must hear the ballad. It uses the triad diabolica at the strangest intervals, causing a dissonance almost grating but climatic to the ear. Lunch will be my treat." The last one thrown in as further bait.

Theron flies down, despite the weather. He is dressed for the weather, but without his armor, even the lightest would be weighed down in it. Once he does alight, he does pull out a cloak from some sort of pouch he was carrying, covering up the wings, so that he just looks like a hunchback.

Jehan's hand shoots out to grapple Listle's wrist as she tugs on Westly's sleeve. "Leave him. He and I have important business which you won't interfere with, Empyrean." To Westly, "That is a wonderful idea, Westly, but I'm afraid it's simply out of the question." He offers no reason as to why.

The group of four that comes from the north would be small if two of its members were not Agni-Haidar, the tall and broad and soulless Lions of Atar. They guard a seemingly incongruous pair of women dressed in the full head-to-toe garbing of Varati nobility. One of them, the one whose silks are somewhat simpler than those of the other, is obviously aged by the way she moves. Her companion still moves with youthful grace. They're conversing, but the young woman's part of the conversation is silent; she responds to the other's words with gestures of her fingers. They head to the artificial alley formed by the clothsellers and seem to be drawing a considerable amount of attention from the merchants. Apparently, they are Decision Makers.

"But Westly, I think we should probably go now." Listle desperately gives warning glances at the bard. This is dangerous, doesn't he realize that. At least for her, a blood relative of Thalia in the middle of all the Thalia haters. All these Varati surrounding her isn't reassuring her either. However, when she feels Jehan's hands on her wrist, her eyes flash at the Varati. "How dare you touch me." It was a statement, a rather icy one at that.

Still rather friendly, Westly still loses a lot of his smile when Jehan speaks sharply and grabs Listle. "Umm, she's my friend," he says to Jehan. "There's really no need to get this upset just because you both want to talk to me. I'm a bard, after all, and I'm used to this sort of thing," he says, puffing up. "Can't we just schedule a lunch for later, Listle, and I'll go with Jehan for now and talk about his Eclipse Restitution, or whatever, and then maybe we could meet for dinner?" His voice shows no hint of worry or danger. In fact he pulls out a pouch from his leather case, over one shoulder, and takes a candy from the pouch. He devours it merrily, then offers it to Jehan.

Jehan frowns, glaring coldly at Listle. "I dare." Silence pervades as he stares her down. (Or attempts to) At Westly's speech, he smiles, and slowly relinquishes his hold on Listle. "Yes, very good. That's just what we should do," he says, his voice as cold and hard as his eyes, which still haven't left Listle's. A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth as he refuses Westly's offer of food.

Theron is himself, on the way to a candy seller, a Varati candy seller at that. He's been cranky about this weather. He's forgotten what it can be like. He longs for the days of summer, when it's not so difficult to fly. When one can be blessed by the feel of sun on their wings. That and there's the constant paperwork, and sometimes, it's just not worth it to be in charge.

Hard blue eyes return Jehan's stare. "You are a mannerless person then. Not to mention out of your senses." Ah there, the gauntlet is thrown. A glare at the man before Listle's hand wrap around Westly's arm. In a lower voice to the bard, she quickly whispers, "This man is psychotic. Come on, Westly, trust me on this. Let's go."

Rabi sighs silently. She isn't comfortable with the idea of merchants paying this much attention to her. She'd rather be anonymous. She and Aba pass by the candy seller's stall and Rabi glances over at Theron curiously. The Agni-Haidar look him over more purposefully, but only for the fraction of the section it takes them to make an assessment of him. The Rialto, being full and bewildering and confusing, presents its own challenges to them. Rabi touches Aba's sleeve and points over in the direction of a promising bolt of cloth, a sumptuous thick brocade of silks in blues and browns.

Shaking his head pleasantly, as if to someone who's offered him tea, Westly smiles widely at Listle. The poor girl just does not understand, he thinks. "No, Listle, he's not psychotic. He's very nice and he wants me to help him out. He's just not very good at having competition for my time, I think. You just worry too much. I have to help him. Why would I not?" he asks, a guileless look of trust on his face.

Theron responds to the chatter of the candy seller with a tired smile of his own. Cranky, he might be, but he and this particular woman have spoken each time he's visited, it's become a nice acquaintance. He greets her with, "Namaste, Imphada, how do you fare?" The woman, for her side, has already murmured something to one of her compatriots to begin an order, yes, the man orders the same thing every time. She replies, "Quite well, Dominus, and you?" The Imperator responds with, "Always paperwork, Imphada." By the way, he bears no sign of his rank, by the way.

Aba moves forward to look over the cloth that Rabi has pointed out, and the younger woman trails along after her. The Agni-Haidar spread out a little, wanting to keep an eye on the avenues of approach. They check the rooftops as well. Rabi glances back at Theron -- paperwork? Ah, but anyone in a clerical position would have that. Only he doesn't look like a clerk. /Ach ja./ She reaches out to touch the brocade; the merchant, having dealt with the Nayaka's woman before, listens to Aba but addresses Rabi with his sales pitch.

Of course, Listle keeps looking back at the Varati. One hand firmly wrapped around Westly's arm and another hand holding her lyre tensely like a weapon. "Westly, you don't want to help him. He .. he is part of some cult!" Listle does not know yet that Jehan is the leader of the cult, though that couldn't make her more insistent than she already is. Another tug on Westly, harder this time, and her wings flutter agitatedly behind her, brushing against some groupies of Jehan.

Blinking slowly, Westly doesn't seem to be catching on to Listle's enragement with Jehan. His mouth opens several times, as if to speak, but he closes it again each time. Finally, he traces a finger on his lute as he says to Jehan, "A cult?"

Theron receives a smile for his remark and a musical reply, "It pains us all, Dominus. More evil than the sea monster earlier this year." She smiles and covers her mouth at her assertion. But Theron merely grins at this, nodding as he says, "I could not agree more, Imphada." Raising the package, he bows slightly, "Thank you," then passes over the correct amount of coins, as well as something extra for the service. You see, some Varati and Empyreans can be civil to each other. They're not chums, but civil.

Jehan smiles softly as he looks into Westly's eyes now. "You would believe her accusations of a man she has never met, my bard friend?"

"A cult. You know.. those insane people. Westly, trust me on this." Her eyes leave the staring down match with Jehan to turn on Westly. "And you know something, you'll probably even like Thalia. She has your notions of harmony between races. Why do you want to help this man overthrow her?" Listle might not agree with Thalia's vision of Aether as one big happy family, but she isn't that keen with seeing her cousin dead either.

"Insane?" Westly turns the word over in his mouth, not liking the taste of it. "How do you know about him, Listle? But," he admits, "even if you *were* insane," he says to Jehan, "it would be pretty neat. I've never met a real, live insane person, and they're so good in stories to add some color. Like in this one epic, there's this guy named Ir, and he's kinda crazy, and he takes out his sword and attacks the sea, cutting the tops off the waves and all that, and it's one of my favorite parts. Not my absolute favorite, because there's a bard in that story. His name is Amergin and he's really neat, I wish I could work for a king like he is, but then the king is his father, so anyway are you really insane Jehan, or is Listle maybe mistaking you for someone else? Because some people think that all Varati look the same, but then they say that for about every race, but I personally don't believe it, but maybe Listle does?" He concludes his little monologue, but it won't take much to get him started again.

Jehan smiles sincerely to Westly. "Now, do I look insane to you, bard?" he queries. His hand slides from Westly's shoulder to drop at his own side. A gesture, and a small fire sprouts at Jehan's feet, casting better light over the grouping. "Surely not."

Rabi shakes her head slightly, then points to another bolt. She has a thoughtful, yet distracted look in her eyes, one that Aba recognizes. "Shall I pick out something suitable, Imphada?" She asks Rabi softly, and Rabi returns this question with a thankful expression. So now it's upon Aba's aged and able shoulders upon which the mercenary regard of the merchants will descend: Rabi feels both grateful and relieved. She takes a breath and wanders back towards the main area of the Rialto. One Agni-Haidar detaches from the watch to follow her, a black shadow far greater in volume than its dimuitive silk source. She wanders in the direction of the fountain and her fingers twist and twine at her belly.

Theron draws away from the candy seller with a wave and seeks out a somewhat dry place to consume his treat. Perhaps nearer to the communal tent area around the food sellers. He trudges through wind, rain and mud to make his way there.

"He is! That group he is a part of.. the revolution eclipse.." Listle waves her hand, along with her lyre, "Or whatever the name is. It's the cult that is off to overthrow Thalia." An exasperated glance is given to Westly. "Do you even know who Thalia is? She is the Varati Queen." She opens her mouth to add more convincing facts (not that it'll work on Westly) when she stops in a gasp. The sight of the small fire unnerved Listle and a shiver runs down her back.

"Varati Queen?" Westly queries, thinking. Then the fire erupts near Jehan, and Westly forgets everything. "Oooh!" he squeals in rapture. "Can you do *magic*? Because magic is so neat! Did I ever tell you about the time I helped kill the Sea Beast? Except I did more of watching than killing, and it was more other people than me, but it's still a good story. And then I got healed, because I was wounded with acid! And it was really neat with all the magic! And did you know that I am a close, personal friend," he emphasizes the last 3 words, "of the Archmagus? He's really a capital fellow, he was very nice and listened to my poems, and even though he didn't do any magic for me, I'm sure he will sometime, and say, can you do anything really neat, like call down lightning or make people fall in love, like in the story books? Because that would be so awfully interesting, and then I could write a poem or an epic about it..." he rambles.

Rabi doesn't hear the argument at all -- no regard paid by her to them, nor none by her black-clad guardian. She reaches the fountain and watches the patterened rippling of the water's surface. She is sheltered from it by her thick veils. She follows its curve, lost in thought.

"Why, I have power of fire. I can even..." He grins. "Why, I'll show you." He raises a hand, and a softball-sized fireball shoots into the air. "I can even make bigger ones, with effort."

Okay. THAT gets the Agni-Haidar's attention. He steps up to Rabi, who hasn't noticed it, and his attention rivets on that spot. He tracks the fireball back to its source by trajectory, but the view is blocked partly by some stalls. "Imphada." Imagine a statue given only enough breath to speak, but not to be truly alive -- that's his voice. "Stay close." Rabi looks up at him, startled.

The crowd surrounding Jehan ooohs at the fireball but Listle merely swallows and tense up even more. She inches closer to Westly, just because he is the only thing remotely friendly thats close to her. "Westly." A very quiet voice. "Please leave with me. Please."

Theron dips into his bag and starts to pull out a chocolate when he notices the sudden flare of bright light. No matter the temperature, weather, what have you, that's noticeable. He decides that perhaps he needs to amble over that direction, after informing someone, of course, that the Hounds need to be informed, so he tells one of the merchants to go after them.

Jehan sits down on his platform, realizing that he needs to be unnoticable and nonchalant after his last display. So he does, and appears just like any other Varati with money to spend on clothes.

"Oh Listle!" Westly exclaims, a tad exasperated. "Why won't you just tell me what you're going on about? Because I have serious bardic business with this chap! I really think you're thinking of some other Varati. Like Khalid. Have you ever met him? He's a God-King. I've met him, kind of. Well, instead it was less like meeting and more like seeing, but I'm almost positive he knew I was there. He could burn stuff with fire just like Jehan, only it was a lot more spectacular, and he burned the Sea Beast. Can you do that?" he asks Jehan, pleasantly. "Send out waves of burning fire? Because I'd really like to see it again. Not from too close!" he adds emphatically. "But from far away."

The crowd seems to like this idea too. Sheets of fire, yeah! Yeah! Fireworks -- is it a carnival atmosphere quite yet? At least it'd warm the place up a bit, maybe.

Jehan smiles a bit. "I'm afraid I've already shown off more than I should have, publically. If you like, I could arrange a private demonstration, though." He grins craftily.

Listle returns Westly's look with resigned desperation. It seems that she can't get through his thick skin. "He is dangerous. Westly! Come on." Another firm tug at him, her hand have not left his arm all the while. She begins to seriously consider leaving her friend here with the maniac, but that would not be nice would it? So, giving one last final effort, she pulls the bard with all her might. This causes him to fall down against her. And so they came a-tumbling down, Empyrean, Mongrel and the Varati groupies behind her.

Rabi remains where she is, in her guardian's shadow and care. He glances around in a regular fashion -- again checking those corridors of approach -- but keeps most of his attention in the area centered around Jehan. He can pretty much tell where that is: it's the center of the crowd, no matter whether Jehan is standing or seated. The croud, his admirers, will naturally collect around that focal point.

Falling bodies makes it easier too.

Oh, it's much too late for that, for a fireball does have it's ways of attracting attention. Theron continues to amble over that general direction. Oh sure, it might be a magic show, but even so, then it'll be entertainment, and he can relax a bit. He nods politely to the Agni-Haidar, who he knows has also seen something, just by stance. Well, if there were any doubt about location, it's been pinpointed by the sudden pile of flesh, not a few feathers, here and there. For that, the Imperator decides to interfere.

Falling with a thud, Westly tries to roll off Listle and instead ends up tripping up a few cultists. They fall on top of him. Westly's muffled voice can barely be heard, except as "Mfff mffff mmphmmm mmm mff!"

Jehan frowns at the pile of bodies, shaking his head. He doesn't stand up. "Now look what you've done, Empyrean," he says quietly. "Pulled down and dirtied my bard friend and irritated my friends." Tsk tsk. In fact, those 'friends', the two Varati that Listle and Westly took down, are rising to their feet, mumbling in tones quite similar to growls.

Ok, this is definitely /not/ going as planned. So much for a quick exit. Listle winces as her feathers get stepped on and tries to scramble to her feet, hands pushing against the ground. A quick look around for her lyre before her blue eyes widen at the sight of the two Varatis growling at her. She freezes.

Rabi's Agni-Haidar guardian's left hand drops away from the lion's head pommel of his sword. He relaxes, attention intent on that jumble of people and the tenseness it exudes.

Theron smiles genially as he arrives at the aftereffects of 'Smear the Queer' or Listle going anywhere. "Oh, look, it's a game. I'm so terribly pleased to see that everyone's getting along, do you think that I could play as well. I'm sure it would be great fun." Espying Listle, he brightens, "Domina, I would have never expected to see you here." He holds a hand out, "Might I help you up?" He still appears, for all intents and purposes to be some weird old coot.

Jehan sighs at the two growling Varati. "Step off, you two," he commands coldly. They do, but grumble no less. He smiles passively to the weird old Empyrean coot. "Something for you, imphadi?"

Digging his way out from underneath the pile of Varati, Westly is already rambling before you can understand what he's saying. "Mmfff, mfff, mff did you do that, Listle? I was just talking to Jehan, there's really no reason to be rude like that, what's gotten into you lately, for crying out loud, I wonder what happened to the Listle I used to know, what with--" Westly stops in midsentence, finally starting to absorb the anger in the circle of people focused towards Listle. "Um..." he says quietly. He scratches his chin, then says, "Why don't all you gents have some candy, and we can talk about this?" he ventures, smiling broadly, arms wide in a gesture of diplomacy.

An intense look of relief passes through Listle's face as she recognizes the Empyrean who had just arrived. Not only is it just another Empyrean but he is someone who can fight. Well, Listle hopes he is not that much of an old coot that he had forgotten how to fight. "Imperator." She greets in an unsteady voice, a pale hand placed on his bigger one.

The Agni-Haidar by Rabi knows who Theron is. Either he thinks that Theron has things well in hand, or he thinks that the fury that may be ensuing shortly will be nicely focused on the Empyrean. He nods to Rabi. "We should go, Imphada." Since he's her protector, it's not really a suggestion. Rabi nods and points towards the clothsellers' "alley" and he nods. They begin to make their way back in that direction; his left hand is back on its pommel resting place but he keeps close to his charge.

Theron curls his hand around Listle's with a slight squeeze, then it loosens. He explains to the nice Varati who seems to like shooting off fireballs, "Yes, I came to retrieve my friend, we were supposed to share dinner together, I was wondering where she had gotten to. Thank you for looking after her and keeping her safe. I should be very upset were she to come to any danger. I'd take it personally." He smiles blithely, then indicates the harp, "Could you possibly get that for her? Thank you so much."

Jehan nods, smiling. Without rising, he snaps his fingers and points to the harp. One of five Varati surrounding him retrieves it and hands it distastefully to Listle. "Of course, sir, I could do no less." He smiles. Then he turns to Westly. "Perhaps when your friend and her father go off to dinner, we can resume our business."

"Imperator?" Westly latches on to the word. It sounds like it's a very important title. He turns to Theron and brightly says, "Hello!" in a singsong voice, as if he was approached by the Imperator. "My name is Westly. Do you know Listle? She is my close, personal friend," he says, emphasizing the last three words. "Oh, and have you met Jehan? We've only just met, but he is very Interesting. He can do *magic*," he says, with a misty look in his eye. "I am a Bard, by the way. Master Bard, that is, and Traveller Extraordinaire, High Musician of the Rialto..." he continues his long list of "titles" that he's given himself. "Assistant to the Slaying of the Sea Beast, Close Personal Friend to the Archmagus, Singer of Songs, Writer of Epics..."

Blinking rapidly at Theron's explanation, Listle decides to just nod mutely. The instrument is snatched quickly from the Varati's hand, eyes giving it a quick scrutiny before she starts to dust the dirt of her clothes. Her instrument has more priority then her own self, of course. Giving a worried glance at the bard, she quickly says, "Uhm, I think Westly is supposed to have dinner with us too. Right Westly?" A pleading glance given to her bard

Theron regards the self important Bard with amusement, "Hello, Bard Westly, it is certainly a great honor to meet you. Indeed, I've met your close personal friend Listle, she also happens to be a close, personal friend of mine, so I suppose that means that you and I are close personal friends, hmmm?" Then to Jehan, as he repeats, "Thank you again," adding, "perhaps sometime you and I could discuss what you could do more, yes?" He glances from Listle to Westly, and nods, "Oh indeed, Bard, I should hate to be denied your company, when I am quite eager to hear your compositions. Our close personal friend Listle has told me all about them."

Jehan doesn't say anything, but quietly watches Westly. "Do not forget, bard, that we have business to attend." He looks up at Theron's speech to him, an eyebrow arched gracefully. "Perhaps, although I doubt it."

While Westly did intend to follow Jehan, he is truly enraptured by Theron's obvious appreciation of him. Not really hearing Jehan, he doesn't turn to speak to Jehan's concerns. Instead, he says to the Imperator, "Really? She told you about me? I mean, of course she did," he says faux-gruffly. "I'm a great Bard, after all. Yes, let's go get dinner. Let's." He takes Listle by the arm grandly, and begins to take a step forward, then pauses. "Oh, um," he adds, "so, where were we going?"

Jehan frowns, shaking his head. Such an absent-minded man is of little use besides. Gesturing to the other five Varati, he moves off to the west, and they follow.

Listening to Theron handle the situation, Listle's estimate of the Imperator goes up. She gives a grateful smile to the old man and cradles her lyre close to her. A sigh of relief is given as Westly finally decides to leave the cult-leader. Giving him a smile, "Some place special, Westly." Where I'll lecture your head off. And then they disappear into the crowd.

FIN

Back to the Light of the Moon Story.