Some things cannot wait

[itanyablade]

“I’m not so sure this is a good idea.” He stared dejectedly into the glass. His slouch wrinkled the fine clothing he wore and earned him an exasperated sigh from his mother.

“It is a perfectly fine idea. You are looking out for your family. Now stand up straight. I want you to make a good impression.” She brushed her hands over his clothes, inspecting him for the third time.

“But ma…” He trailed off when he saw the stern look on her face. “Mother, father does not really like the Maunts.”

“Better, I will not have you talking in northern idiocy. We are all citizens of Stormwind now and it is time that we started acting like it.” She turned her son around and look him in the eye. “As for your father and his dislike of the Maunts. His views are rather tinted by those of your sister.”

“Your father has let her run so wild that there is not a chance for her to be married off properly.” She huffed. “And her friends. That idiot that your father continues to allow into our house and those other ruffians.”

“Cylinn’s not that bad.” He earned himself another look of displeasure.

“She is stupid and the daughter of some peasant farmer. She is not a suitable companion for someone of your sister’s position, or of yours. The best that girl can hope for is that someone takes her in as his doxy. More likely, she will end up toothless and lying in a ditch somewhere.”

“I will not hear anymore about it. We are not talking about her. We are talking about you and your future. Tell me what you will say to Thomas Maunt.”

“I will tell him that I am there to lend the assistance of the Montrose and Summerisle families in his time of need.” Toneless was the only way to describe the delivery, but it would get the point across. “Are you sure Uncle Jacob will be okay with this?”

“My brother knows what is good for him. Now, get moving.” Her proud smile did not fade until Micah had left the house. Jacob had already agreed to let her take a little more control over the Summerisle business. He trusted her where he own husband did not. Lax northern ways was how they had gotten into this mess. It was long past time for her to take control.

“Oh Corwin.” She looked fondly at the painting over the mantle. The proud smiling couple looked back at her. “I wish it did not have to come to this.” Only five short steps to cross to the painting. She ran a hand over the finely crafted wooden frame. “You just never listen and look where we are.”

She gestured at the small sitting room, that was tastefully decorated, but still small. “The things I have to do to protect my family.”

[itanyablade]

Traffic on the cobbled stones of Stormwind was unchanged. She could hear the woman who sold flowers calling out for her customers. The woman made a good living, providing what the people could not or would not get for themselves. Silly the things that people thought were important. Tarelyn Montrose ran a hand through her shoulder-length hair; still woolgathering despite the harsh words she had exchanged with her brother just moments ago. She had never fought with Micah, not like that. Always he had been the little brother, but this morning the words had been harsh and he had meant them.

Any moment now, her mother’s maid would scamper out to purchase the red fragrant roses that flavored every memory of her childhood. Memories that felt tainted with the anger and resentment that had taken residence in the home behind her. Along with the dark shadows that only she seemed to take notice of. Tarelyn turned her face towards the sky, though she knew it would be hours before the sun graced the street. A breeze brought the city smells to her and she wrinkled her nose out of habit. She dragged another hand through her hair with a sigh and started walking.

Her feet took her to the very center of her mother’s discontent with her. The Pig and Whistle was quiet in the early morning, but still open for the few people that wandered in. She stood at the edge of the common room and took the quiet emptiness of the place. Finally, she took a large breath and moved towards the bar. Part of her mind took stock of every tiny flaw, ticking off a list in her mother’s soft but harshly critical voice, colored by occasional commentary in the deeper and less refined voice of her brother.

Constanzia Montrose rarely screamed or yelled; such actions were undignified and pointless. Any emotional outburst of that sort was below her station and injured her dignity. That did not make her words any less biting. Micah had grown closer to their mother while she was gone and he seemed to have adopted her prejudices and views for his own. Tarelyn blew out her breath in an attempt to dislodge her family from her thoughts. This was not the place or the time to have that gargoyle on her shoudlers.

“What can I do for you?” The man behind the bar looked up with only casual interest, but Tare could sense that he was more aware than he appeared.

She tried to respond with the same sort of lazy indifference. “Was lookin for Threnn. She about?” Her elbows rested on the weathered wooden top of the bar as she leaned forward. “Haven’t seen her for a tick..” Not since she had so completely annoyed Threnn’s husband. It had not been her best night, though there had been a few men that had been worth looking at, Tarquin not the least of them.

“Not yet, today, no.” He looked her over. Tare wondered what the man was thinking about when he saw her; what he thought of her. “Might be in the orphanage or with the dwarves.”

Tare gave half a smile and placed a coin on the bar. “Appreciate it.” She moved back from the bar. “You see her before me, you let her know that Tarelyn Montrose was lookin for her.” She heard him suck in air behind her and smiled. There were not many places outside of Stormwind where she would get that kind of reaction, but Captain Corwin Montrose was well liked enough or respected, if Tarquin ap Danwyrith was to be believed. It was a brief thrill, though, because it was the sort of thing her mother would have enjoyed and that was enough to tarnish the thrill.

She walked along the canals without any real direction, sorting out her feelings. She had not expected to feel so alone when she came home. Part of her had expected things to be exactly the way she had left them. It had been a ridiculous expectation; it had been over a year since she had fled and nothing was the same. Where were her friends? Most were gone with nary a sign. There was only one that seemed unchanged. Pizmo was still the same; Tare was certain that a little more magical knowledge would never change that gnome. So many people that she knew, she had always considered more Cylinn’s friends than her own. It had taken coming back to Stormwind for her to realize just how lonely her life had been.

“You asleep with your eyes open, girl?” Tarelyn started and then smiled automatically. The watchman humphed and frowned at her. She saw him looked over her clothing, which hinted at a life in less than savory quarters of Old Town, while the fabric and cut of the garments hinted at richer circumstances. She watched his face settle and knew that he had decided she was a noble engaged in the time-worn practice of slumming. Her mother, she knew, would agree. “Watch where you are going, miss.” He walked by her, no doubt muttering about spacey young women with more money than sense.

After that, she made her way quickly to the Dwarven quarter, looking for her friend. She watched Threnn working at the anvil with fascination. She was taken by people who could make something, anything, out of something else. She did not know what Threnn was trying to make, but it was still fascinating to watch. The sun crept up the horizon. The tent kept direct sunlight from them and the air was crisp, at least beyond the tarps. It was loud and warm here. By the time, Threnn seemed to be done with whatever it was, Tare had long since removed her warmer clothes.

Tare gave a sheepish wave when Threnn finally looked at her. Threnn’s smile and shake of her head was all that she needed. Her friend threw a thick shirt over her shoulders, grabbed Tare’s arm and walked her away from the noise of the forge. They said nothing for a few moments, letting their ears adjust to the reduction in volume and their bodies to the cooler air of a Stormwind winter.

“All right, talk.” Threnn spoke softly as they left the Dwarven Quarter behind. For a few seconds, Tarelyn took the time to thank the Light, the Gods, or whatever had roomed her with Threnn during those first few months of their paladin training. It might have been years since they had talked, but Threnn knew what Tare ghosting around meant, just at Tare knew there was some sort of stress that caused Threnn’s shoulders to bunch. There would be time to ferret that out later.

So she talked. Not about the time she had gone missing or what had driven her to that. She was not ready to do that yet. Instead she told Threnn about her return home. She talked about the details of trying to contact the Guardian Elite, about the devastation of knowing so many of them had vanished or just gone. Spoke of missing friends, of friends changed. Spoke her little house in Southshore boarded up and abandoned. All the miscellanea that had torn at her right after her return. It was nothing more than window dressing and Threnn knew it.
They stopped at one of the pricier cookshops in the trade quarter of Stormwind. Tarelyn paid without thinking, not giving Threnn the change to argue. As they sat together in a quiet corner, savoring the expensive tea and pastries, Tarelyn broached the subject that had made her scour the city for her friend.

“I think my mother is ill.” She spoke crisply but forged on before there could be any questions. “She’s been acting strangely.” Tare sighed and drank deeply from her cup. “Things have been strained. They were strained before I left, but with the death of Pomeroy’s family and the elves talking about that crazy killer, Risu, Da has been gone a lot more now. And… Well I thought she was just hiding in her rooms to avoid him.”

“But, he’s gone a lot and she isn’t coming out that much. And when she is out of those rooms sometimes it is like she is drunk. And when her friends come over.” Tarelyn shuddered. “I don’t know Threnny. It’s just like the whole house is covered in some dread shadow.”

“And my mother, my mother who always told me that a noble woman hires servants so that she may present herself as a woman of leisure, is spending time with accounts. She’s taken over the Summerisle estates and, I heard from Micah, that she has taken over much of the Maunts holdings in the merchant quarter as well.”

“It’s as if, she’s remade herself while I have been gone. She’s been angry with me since I left for the monastery, but it is like I am not even there now. I am not worth her concern. And Micah, he’s changed.”

She took a deep breath. “Da thinks she has a lover. Some important noble. Told me he is just waiting for the axe to fall, for the knife in the dark to come, so this man can sweep her away. Said he could some large gem on a chain in her rooms, the kind of thing that nobles sometimes exchange with their lovers."

"It's a bunch of foolishness. Ma would say so. But Da, I think he just doesn't know what is happening anymore than I do. It's like... Oh hell, I dunno what its like. Just doesn't seem right to me. Ma’s many things, but I just don’t think she’d be cheating. She’s mad that da’s keeping his distance from her.”

“He’s stayin in the barracks now, but the gossip…” And she lowered her voice and put her ear next to Threnn’s. “No one is saying anything about it. Nothing. And damn if the gentry in this city don’t talk about everything they can. But people are barely whispering and they look at me… Girls that sneered at me when we was trainin? They look at me like I would gobble them up.” She raised her voice again. “Don’t make any sense, any of it.” She ran a hand through her hair nervously and smiled. “I’m getting twitchy and I’m at a loss of what to do.”

The tea was cool in her cup, but she smiled for real this time. “You’ve always seen straight through stuff, Threnny. What you think?”

[Threnn]

"...she has taken over much of the Maunts' holdings..."

If Tarelyn noticed Threnn's sharp intake of breath at the name, she didn't acknowledge it, listing the rest of her mother's troubling behaviors like a litany. And perhaps they were a kind of litany for Tare. Threnn forced her thoughts away from the dark things the Maunt name conjured, focusing intently on her friend's voice. The more Tarelyn said, the more certain Threnn was that the other paladin had been mulling this over for quite a while now.

Threnn reached for the teapot and topped off both of their cups. She knew very little of Constanzia Montrose, aside from the stories Tare had told over the years. Even when she'd gone to visit her friend at home, Threnn had tried to keep their paths from crossing too often. Perhaps it was because Tare's mother seemed too much like her own. Though, if the women were that much alike...

"I doubt she's cheating, Tare. Something like that, if it went wrong, if it ended badly... 'S your ma's reputation that'd be on the line, not her lover's. She strikes me as too, dunno. Too careful for that kind of thing."

Tare nodded, adding a lump of sugar to her tea. "Then what do you think is really going on?"

"Could be a lot of things," said Threnn. "You were gone a long time. Stormwind started emptying out when the Portal opened, and most of those that left haven't come back. Those that trickled in to replace them aren't loyal to the city or its people. So, if she's not hiring anyone to see accounts for her, might be that there's no one she trusts to do it as her proxy.

"And far as remaking herself goes, well, same thing there. Doesn't have you to lean on, doesn't have your father as much anymore... maybe she tried doing it on her own and it didn't work quite the way she'd figured." She took a sip of tea. The woman who had brought the pot had extolled its virtues as she poured, claiming that hers was the one place in Stormwind - maybe even all of the south - where you could find this particular leaf. To Threnn, it tasted suspiciously like the Hillsbrad black Bricu tended to favor, with maybe a bit of mint added in. Of course, tea was about the only thing she could make successfully in the kitchen, so maybe she was wrong.

But if she wasn't, it only served to illustrate her point - it wasn't easy to be a merchant in Stormwind these days. Every business had to fight to distinguish itself from all of the others, and someone was always looking to undercut you. So if you added mint leaves to your plain-old Hillsbrad Black and called it something new - Tyrande's Delight, in this case - well, who could point a finger in blame without turning that same finger back upon himself?

Threnn sighed. "Business is hard, Tare. Her friends bringing dread to the door is probably exactly that. Contracts failing, brigands attacking shipments everywhere since a quarter of the Guard went to Outland to seek their fortunes... Light, I've seen three Houses board up their places and sneak out of Stormwind in the dead of night rather than go in the day and admit their disgrace. Her friends are probably bringing their miseries with them along with their hostess-gifts.

"And to her sounding drunk, well." She took a deep breath; it wasn't easy to say this, but Tare needed to look for truths, not be reassured. "Likely she is, if things are going sour. Look into the accounts yourself. The Maunts and the Summerisles might've had money before things changed, but who knows what they were hiding in the last few years. Might be your ma's been left to her own devices to clean up a mess. Might also be affecting her pocketbook, too." She grinned half-heartedly. "I stopped going to the balls a couple of years ago, so I'm a bit out of touch on the gossip. Could try dragging Bricu to one if you wanted me to. We could say we're looking to start a jeweler's shop for him. Or that I'm going to open my own forge. Maybe even sit at my mother's table."

The joke didn't quite get the laugh from Tarelyn she'd been aiming for. Her friend only nodded and turned the teacup around and around on the saucer, as she turned Threnn's words over in her mind.

"Tare, one other thing." Sweet Light, do I really need to add my fears to hers? The only answer there could be was "yes." Tarelyn Montrose might not wear the black and red, but she was one of Threnn's oldest friends. She deserved this warning, even if it was only jumping at shadows. "'s going to sound funny, but, look around your mother's room when she's not there. You see any ragdolls, you come find me. Don't touch it. Just find me."

Tarelyn blinked at her, uncertain. "I don't think my mother's apt to play with dolls, Threnny."

"Long story that I'll tell you another time. Just a precaution for now, yeah?" She waited for Tare's perplexed nod before continuing, her voice as gentle as she could manage over the din of the tea shop. "'Sides, if you're searching for a doll, you're more likely to stumble across any booze she has hidden. Always seem to find the thing you're not looking for."

"You think she's drinkin', then?"

"Think it's a good chance. Might also explain what's got your brother acting off. He sees her every day; 's not easy to watch someone you love do that to himself. Herself," she amended, and reached for a complicated-looking pastry. The other paladin hadn't met Bricu until he'd been sober for nearly a year, but tales of his love for liquor had been around long before.

Tarelyn let Threnn's slip go. "Could be. They've always been close. I've been closer to my da."

"Followed in his footsteps and everything."

"I did." There was the smile, reluctant but proud.

Threnn put her hand over Tarelyn's and squeezed. "Talk to him, too, then. He's going to need his daughter."

[itanyablade]

“What’s that foul lookin thing?” Tarelyn pointed a finger at the hideous trophy hanging from one of the horns of Cylinn’s helmet. She had been watching it swing back and forth for a few minutes trying to gather her thoughts. As usual, the Pig and Whistle was empty in the mid-afternoon. Tarelyn had not planned on staying, but it was hard to say no to Cylinn. Still, sitting her drinking water-downed ale was not getting her any closer to speaking with the one of the Riders, one with half a brain.

“It’s a shrunken imp’s head. Isn’t it nifty? Branny brought it back from the Nether for me!” She flicked it with a smile and then put her helmet on her head. Tarelyn watched the lumpy bit of flesh swing back and forth trying to decide if she should smile or run. With Cylinn it was sometimes hard to know.

“It’s different.”

“I can’t wait to show Anna!”

That was a conversation, Tare decided, that she would rather hear about from a distance. Mostly because laughing would probably get her a challenge to a duel. Fingold did not seem the type to let pass a slight on his lady friend. “So has Anna brought her new beau home yet?”

“Her what?”
“Fingold? The man she’s been seein.”

“Oh Finny.” Dear god, she had shortened yet another person’s name. “I’m not home much. Pigeon likes Outerlands better. And there’s been work from elfs lately.” Tarelyn just nodded, distractedly. “Hi Micah!”

Tarelyn was just a second too late to react to that. Just long enough for her brother to grab her arm.

“What are you doing in this place?” Her brother hissed at her, as he tried to pull her to the door. “Haven’t you caused our family enough embarrassment that you have to whore yourself out in a place like this!” He was ranting. She could see it in the lines of his face.

“Let me go, Micah.” She tried to be calm, but she was afraid that words were not going to be enough this time. “You’re hurting me, let me go.”

Whatever Micah had meant to say; whatever he had meant to do, suddenly no longer mattered. Cylinn punched her brother in the face, sending him to the ground in a dazed puddle. “You don’t hurt my friends!” She told him, sternly shaking her finger. “You’re bigger than her and you’re being mean.”

Micah’s face flushed with anger. Tarelyn could not see the expression on Cylinn’s face since she still had that ridiculous helmet on, but the wagging finger was enough of an indication.

“This isn’t any of your concern, you lumbering idiot!”

“Micah!” Tarelyn stared in shock at her brother, wondering how she was going to keep him from being run through. She did not have the strength to stop Cylinn. “Get out of here.” Things could go very badly if steel was drawn and Tarelyn was not sure she wanted more blood on her hands. The Riders would not take well to one of their own being attacked in their tavern.

“I’m not leaving without you. Mother told me to get you.” Cylinn still had not moved out of the way. Tarelyn knew the warrior was tensed and might already begun crying. Bloody minded she might be, byt Cylinn was still very child-like.

“I’m not a child anymore, to be ordered about to and fro by my mother and neither are you.” She tried to push Cylinn out of the way, but she was not moving. Thank the light, only the tavern’s staff were here right now.

“Go away, Micah. I don’t like you no more!” Cylinn stomped her foot and Tarelyn prayed her brother had the sense to heed that warning. He got to his feet. His face was still beet red and she watched him clench his fists in anger. He backed away, however, stumbling a bit over the stairs that led towards the exit. He scowled fiercely as Reese coughed a bit of a laugh and then he was gone.

“You okay, Tare?” Cylinn jerked her helm off again, letting the hulking thing fall to the ground with a harsh clang.

“Yeah, just bruised.”

“Don’t like him no more. He hurt you.” Cylinn scowled towards the door, waiting to see if Micah would come back in.

“I’m okay, Cyl, really.” Dear Light or whoever might be listening, don’t let her hurt my brother. “Don’t worry about it.”

“When did he get to be so mean?” The warrior picked her helmet off the floor, sighed at the newly acquired dent and then smiled at the imp’s head hanging from the horns. “No one is mean to my friends.”

“Speaking of your friends, Cyl. I was wondering if you could pass on a message for me.”

“Bout what?”

Tarelyn pulled a large green gem out of her pocket, letting it hang away from her on its long silver chain. “Was wondering if maybe the Riders might know anyone who knows stuff about gems?” Exposed like this, Tarelyn once again felt her skin crawl.

“That’s pretty.” Tarelyn stuffed it back in her pocket. It might be closer to her, but at least it was hidden. “Umm.. I dunno. They might. I can ask around.”

“That would be great.” Tarelyn forced a smile. “Ellly, I could really use a drink.” She wondered how long she would have to wait until it would be safe to set foot outside the Pig.

[itanyablade]

She scribbled another name on the bit of paper she held against the wall.

Olaf Romney

He was the fifth person to come by tonight. He was the only one to come alone. Two of them, the two men from the Watch, she considered not including on her list. After all, they were just there to collect information about the theft. Tarelyn felt a twinge of guilt about that, but she was not about to confess to the crime. She certainly was not going to tell her mother that Bricu Bittertongue currently had the item in question.

She did not know who had given her mother that gem or why; part of her never wanted to know. She had seen a number of creepy and disturbing things over the course of her life, but she had never beheld an object that gave off such a disgusting aura as that gem. It had appeared to be an emerald, but at the same time it appeared to be slimy, dripping with some liquid, though nothing ever actually dripped from it. It gave her the creeps. She rubbed her hand on her pants at the thought of it.

She yawned loudly and then sighed. Enough spying for one night. She tucked the paper into a pocket and leaned against the wall, clenching the book of insipid poetry she had been pretending to read loosely in one hand. Ever since she had returned home, nothing had been right. She had expected some sort of homecoming; something that involved dinner and warm beds and smiling faces. She had none of that.

Instead it was mystery and oddness. Friends missing, friends married, friends dead. Her family in shambles and Micah… What had happened to Micah while she had been gone? Her brother had been a happy lad once, now he was dour. An example of just how dour presented itself right in front of her.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m standing in the foyer, Micah. I was reading until a few moments ago.” She waved the book she had been hiding her scribbling in until a few moments ago.

“Mother told you to stay in your room.”

“I told her and I told you that I will come and go as I please.” He tried to grab her arm and she called the light to make a shield around her. He flinched and she frowned.

“If you won’t abide by the rules of the house, you can leave.” His arms crossed over his chest and Tarelyn noted how the baby fat seemed to have evaporated from his face.

“I’ll leave and I’ll take my allowance and my inheritance with me.” She looked up at her brother defiantly. Her mother had already tried to force her to conform. She still had this leverage, but she knew it would not be enough for much longer. When had her selfish pampered mother gotten so business savvy?

“You should go now, Tare, before it’s too late.” Leaving her bewildered and confused, Micah favored her with one sympathetic glance and then walked away. The door to their mother’s sitting room closed with a soft clunk before leaving her standing in the foyer in darkness.

[itanyablade]

The headache could have been cleansed, but Tarelyn did not even consider it. She lay on the floor in Cylinn and Anna’s room clenching her eyes shut against the invading sunlight. The only way she was certain that was what floor she was on was the rather plump white cat that keep trying to get her to pet it. Unfortunately, the cat was blinding at the moment, so it had to suffer the indignity of a had being occasionally slapped in its direction. It did not seem to mind.

Tare was not quite sure how she ended up here. She vaguely remembered visiting the Pig and Whistle and making a right fool of herself. She was certain that she had managed to at least drunkenly leer at that uptight elf, Delion, but little more. After that, things got hazy. If even her hazy memories were true, this had been her longest and, unfortunately, loudest drunk ever.

Vague recollections about sitting on the bridge to Stormwind proper singing bawdy songs with Beltar were probably true. Untrue would be the vague recollections of the same dwarf pawing at her shirt. Light only knew what had between between leaving the Pig and the bridge though.

The hangover would have been penance for making such a fool of herself and she would have gotten rid of it after an hour or so, but she kept waiting, waiting for the ache in her heart to dim enough for the hangover to be worth getting rid of.

“You look horrible.” Anna’s voice could sound melodic, but any voice sounded grating this morn.

“I feel worse.” She groaned, dislodged the cat from her position on her stomach and rolled over. “The room’s still spinnin something fierce.”

“At least you finally stopped heaving your guts out.” Tarelyn covered her mouth as her stomach tried to restart the activity. Anna’s laughter was no more musical than her voice was this morning. “Still, I think Beltar might have liked having a pretty girl in his bed.”

“Oh light, I didn’t!”

Anna did not even bother to hold back. “No, but the look on your face just then was priceless.” She held out a mug to Tarelyn as she pushed herself off the floor.

Tare clutched the mug with both hands, weaving her way to Cylinn’s empty and messy bed before she took a single sip. “This ain’t half bad, Anna.” She took a longer drink, rolling her shoulders to dislodge the kinks. The cat followed her, mewling for pets, but Tare ignored it.

“Tare, Threnny told me…”

Tarelyn gave a small shake of her head. “Don’t want to talk about it.” Her voice caught in her throat, starting with tears before she could even protest. “I don’t understand why, Anna. Why would someone kill him like that, leave him lyin in the street. He never did anything to anyone.”

“Light, I can’t stop crying.” She growled in irritation, forcing herself to gulp down the hot liquid remaining in her mug.

“Nothing wrong in crying.”

“Crying never got nothing done.” Tare stood to her unsteady feet and scanned the room for anything she might have forgotten. “I’m going to found out who did this, Anna, and I’m going to bury them.”