[Tancred]

ooc: Lesson 1: How to write yourself out of a corner - write something completely unconnected with the main plot and explain that you're 'developing the story'...

IC: "In all honesty, Ursula, I'm really very busy, got to get moving, jousts await, so if you'll excuse me -"
Tancred starts to push himself out of his chair, but a sudden shove forces him back down.
"You. Sit." Ursula's voice loses it's sweet, crooning edge, becoming low and venomous. She walks around the wary knight, taking Skye's vacated seat.
The pair of knights glare at each other for a moment.
Tancred breaks the silence. "Very well... what can I do for you, de Gossard?"

***

Karnas settles himself down, ready to watch and listen to the exchange between the knights. After all, it's really nothing to do with him. The fact that it was more or less his urgings that got Tancred involved with the conspiracy to humiliate his red-haired rival barely enters his mind.
Something disturbs him. A sound, on the cusp of hearing. Somehow different than the outside world; he can hear the conversation going on in front of him, and the sounds of the joust going on in the background... but there is something sharper and clearer about this sound.
He concentrates, straining to catch it again - and there it is; a woman's sob, faint but definite.
It had been a long time since the evil mage had stopped caring about the crying of women and children, but this somehow demands attention.
Karnas no longer truly has eyes or ears, but his senses are still very much alive. He struggles to pierce the misty barrier that seperates him from the world at large; the walls of his sword-shaped prison are thick and strong, but old - and Karnas knows them too well for them to stop him entirely. He searches the world for the source of the single sob.
Slowly, he becomes aware of it. A sentient mind, almost drowned in misery and despair, thoughts given a kind of voice, coming from -
If he had a mouth, it would have opened in surprise. Karnas directs every scrutiny towards it, but finds there can be no mistake.
Ursula's sword - silver, antique, glowing - is crying.
An instinct - curiosity, pity and perhaps a certain sense of sudden kinship - takes hold of the trapped mage. Gritting his theoretical teeth, Karnas throws everything he has; every shred of willpower, every gramme of determination, every iota of personality into forcing a small part of himself outward, fighting to cover the distance between him and the silver blade. The golden walls of the sword seem to constrict around him, making every inch stretch out and out, but Karnas has had 300 years of imprisonment to toughen his will. Gradually, achingly, he meets the sentience within Ursula's sword and tries to throw words at it as best he can.
"Hello? Can you hear me?"
The sobbing does not stop.
"Hello? Mother of - This isn't easy! Can you hear me?"
Still nothing. Karnas can feel the general shape of the mind now; closed in upon itself, almost deranged. He grimly nods to himself; he remembers his own despair, trapped without escape in a glowing cage, bound to serve.
It must, he thinks, have felt like this.
He musters his strength, and tries one last time.
"HELLO?!?"
The crying does not cease; but the mind stirs. It is aware of him, trying to find him, wary but surprised out of its' despair. A contact of sorts is made; Karnas gets the impression of a face, aquiline and noble, whitehaired and darkskinned; unmistakeably Elven, but tinged with the darkness of the underworld.
A drow...?
A bewildered voice, harsh and broken by tears.
"What... who?"
The young mage smiles, faintly. "Hello... um... are you alright?"
Her self-loss receded, but her wariness grew. "You are... you are some trick of my mind! You are not real! Go away!"
"No... No! Wait!"
The mind seems to try to push him away, to retreat back within its' walls, but the drow woman is relaitvely new to her prison; still weak and distraught. Karnas reaches out, taking a hold, refusing her retreat.
"Go away!"
"NO! Listen to me!"
"Leave me alone!"
Not quite mad, but not quite sane, he thinks. She begins to lash out in his grip, trying to fight him. Karnas keeps his hold for a moment, but her distress becomes too painful for him. He backs off, slowly. A fresh wave of misery wells forth, louder than before.
Stupid woman! Karnas thinks. Annoyance starts to rise in him, but he tries to ignore it, taking metaphorical deep breaths. He shakes the head he hasn't got. Diplomacy, he reflects, is not my strong suit.
"You're new to this prison, aren't you?"
The words seem to reach some despondent part of her mind.
"New? NEW? I have been trapped here for fifty-seven years!" she wails.
Karnas nods. "It's the first hundred years or so that are the worst, aye," comes his reply.
She looks at him suddenly; directly at him, as if seeing him properly for the first time. Karnas can feel her scrutiny as she opens her eyes to him. At the last, her eyes fall upon the distant feel of the golden sword, distant but bright, and comprehension dawns.
"You... you are..."
He nods. "Yes, yes I am."
Disbelief gives way to wonder. "How... how long?"
"Three hundred and thirty five years."
She gasps and falls silent. Karnas waits; struggling to hold back his impatience. This must be done slowly, or not at all, he thinks to himself.
Gradually, he can feel her prescence stretch out itself, coming closer again. She is downcast, shamefaced.
"Who are you?" he asks at length. A measure of pride seems to return to her spirit. She raises her gaze, recovering her composure. Damn Drow women, Karnas muses. Changeable as a Wand of Wonder... and just as dangerous.
"My given name is Malesa, priestess of Lloth, male," she replies haughtily.
"Karnas Thoth." the mage extends a 'hand' - a small tendril of will, a gesture of good faith. "Mage of Thay."
She stares at him. He can feel her sudden dilemma. Accept this one salutation, and compromise one's inbred pride? Or decline it, and remain alone but with pride intact?
The decision is suddenly made for both of them.
A sudden pressure begins to drag Karnas away. He looks back - and understands why. Tancred has got up, and is moving away, carrying the sword with him. Karnas thinks about telling him to stop, but it would mean having to return to the sword first to do it - and the big lug probably wouldn't want to spend any more time around Ursula than he would want to. Muttering, the mage turns his senses to Malesa.
"My bearer is moving away," he explains. "I... I can't keep this contact up... for much longer, ma'am. I will have to say my farewell -"
A quick, frantic movement on her part surprises the mage. She grabs hold of him, keeping him with her.
"Please! Don't go!" Panic begins to show itself in her voice and face.
Karnas shakes his head. Her will is strong, but still disorientated; she does not have the power to rip him from his sword. Gradually, Karnas is pulled back.
"You... cannot stop this," he groans. The forces pulling him apart become stronger. "We... will... meet again..." Tancred and Ursula crossing swords again? Likely, the mage thinks.
Gradualy, Malesa releases her grip, letting the mage drift back to his prison. Her parting thoughts follow him; resignation at his departure, a plaintinve wish for him to come back. In a flash, Karnas catches a glimpse of her heart - layers of despair and fear covering over a hard knot of loneliness.
A moment of realisation hits him.
She doesn't know how to talk to people outside...
Understanding dawns. Karnas imagines three hundred and thirty five years, trapped at his bearer's side, voiceless and alone.
He shivers.
He watches the faint glimmer of Ursula's sword fade.
I will go back, he thinks. No sentient being deserves a fate like that.

***

"Damn the woman," mutters Tancred, viciously. "That's just about all the veiled threats I an take for one day."
"Her sword was nice," adds Karnas.
Tancred gives his sword an odd look.
"Whatever. Where did Skye say she was lodging, again?"