[PM to Join] No Point of Us Looking Below

[moralhazard]

Mid-Afternoon, 18 Vortas, 2717
A Private Sitting Room, Brunnhold

Uzoji laughed, full-heartedly, looking across the sitting room table at the professor opposite him. He had known Osefe pez Nuru for more than ten years now, ever since he had taken the staticmancer’s class at Thul’Amat as a boy. In those ten years, Uzoji thought, fondly, Osefe seemed to have lost an inch or two of height, and his hands had twisted, slowly – but his field and his mind were as sharp as ever, and his wit too.

“Professor,” Uzoji said, cheerfully, “it is good to see you.”

“And you, my boy,” Osefe grinned back at him, smiling; the lines of a lifetime of such smiles were carved into his skin, Uzoji thought. Not that the professor could not be sharp, when he wished; Uzoji had been, more than once, on the receiving end of his unexpectedly sharp tongue.

Osefe sat back slowly in his chair, and sighed. “Ahhh, these conferences,” he waved a hand into the air, and raised his eyebrows at Uzoji. “You’re a young man still, Uzoji,” he said. “Can you imagine the boredom of it? All of us stuffy academics, talking one another’s ears off for days on end. Eventually,” Osefe said, beginning to grin again, “one begins to daydream of silence – godsblessed silence!”

“And yet,” Uzoji said, grinning, “you do keep returning.”

“Well!” Osefe grinned back. “I’m not dead yet! Academically or otherwise.”

Uzoji grinned. “You will join us for dinner, Professor, won’t you?” He smiled. “Niccolette shall be furious if she doesn’t have the chance to say hello.”

“Oh, as shall I,” Osefe grinned as well. He cleared his throat, once. “That wife of yours,” he said, smiling – and cleared his throat again. He coughed, then, once, and again, and then a fit of it, harsh and rough.

Uzoji went and fetched two glasses of water from the sideboard, and brought them back, setting one down for himself and one for Osefe, as if he had thought of nothing but being a bit thirsty.

Osefe nodded to him, eyes watering, and took a long sip. “This Brunnhold weather,” he rasped, glancing outside at the bare trees. He took a deep, careful breath, and another sip of water. “Terribly glad they don’t have this conference in the winter.”

Uzoji smiled, fondly, taking a sip of his water as well.

“But,” Osefe cleared his throat. “I should gladly travel so far to see the lovely Mrs. Ibutatu,” he grinned, then. “As you did, I suppose! All the way to Brunnhold.”

“I would have gone further,” Uzoji said, smiling. “If I had known she was there to find.”

Osefe chuckled, and began to cough again. He sighed, adjusting the thick muffler around his neck.

“I’ll fetch us some tea,” Uzoji said, firmly. He rose, and clasped Osefe on the shoulder. “I’ll be back in a moment, Professor.”

Osefe nodded, blinking. He took a deep, careful breath.

Uzoji smiled back over his shoulder at his professor. He closed the door, lightly, and strode down the hallway, buttoning up his heavy coat. He had never actually been in the Brunnhold kitchens before, but he was absolutely confident that tea could be acquired there, and not entirely sure how else to secure it. It wasn’t, in the end, hard to find them; the Mugrobi simply followed his nose, towards the smell of chickens, carrots and onions, of rising bread, of some Anaxi herbs he had not quite learned to identify, but could appreciate nonetheless.

The kitchen was full to bustling, and Uzoji waited as a passive in their light uniform rushed out, glancing sideways at him with a worried, pinched face. He looked young, Uzoji thought. He unbuttoned his coat, the heat from the stove more than a little too warm, and strode cheerfully through the door, field politely dampened around himself.

There was a faint gasp from nearby, and then another, a little ripple of echoes through the room, and a number of heads turned in the galdor’s direction. Uzoji smiled, broad and friendly, as if he saw none of it.

An older woman came bustling towards him, wide-eyed, with the uniform that he believed meant she was one of those in charge. “Sir,” she said, nervously, “may I – is – what can we – ” She faltered.

“Good afternoon,” Uzoji said, smiling still. He bowed, very lightly, and the woman squeaked faintly and eased back. Someone against the wall giggled and there was a rather loud, conspicuous hushing sound.

“I’m visiting with a professor from Thul’Amat,” Uzoji said, smiling, “who could use some tea against the cold. Would that be possible?” He was about a height with the woman, and he met her gaze without hesitating, his whole posture light and open. He looked about the room without seeming to focus on anything; there was a faint widening of his smile at the sight of Miss Aurelie Steerpike, staring at him with all the rest, and his gaze turned back to the woman before him.

“I’d be happy to make it myself,” Uzoji offered.

There was a flurry of horrified gasps, and the woman startled into action. “No!” She said, wide-eyed. “No – just – one moment, sir, of course,” she bustled off.

Uzoji wandered, lightly, a few steps this way and that, until – as if by accident, he was standing at the edge of the table where Aurelie was working. Nothing in particular changed with his smile, and he glanced down at the chopped vegetables on the table, and back up at the passive. He didn’t say anything – there were too many eyes on him, he thought, regretfully, and the last thing he wished was to make life more difficult for her. But he lingered, just a moment, and smiled at her, before carefully drifting off.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

18 Vortas, 2717 Mid-Afternoon | A Brunnhold Kitchen

The kitchens at Brunnhold proved to be something of a refuge no matter the season, but they were best appreciated when the chill of autumn settled over the building. Outside it was cold and wet and dark, but inside the kitchens all was warm and bright--if somewhat chaotic, as well. The older Aurelie got, the more she enjoyed this about them. Chaos included. There was a strange sort of order to it. The hum and swell of a controlled machine, and she with her place within it. For her, it satisfied some need to belong. To have a place.

When the hum of that activity was interrupted with a ripple of whispers and gasps, her first reaction was to be annoyed. Purely and simply irritated. What could possibly have inspired such a reaction? Could justify stopping the work that needed to get done, swiftly and neatly and--ah. Well. That did rather explain it. Aurelie nearly missed a beat in her chopping. If she recognized the man who had entered where the others did not, she was certainly no more illuminated as to what exactly he was doing here.

He looked perfectly at ease, which was even more puzzling. Polite and unruffled, seemingly immune to the effect he had on the whole room. Aurelie frowned as a Matron stepped forward, taking charge of what she could only think of as "the situation". The passive herself was a puzzled kind of pleased to see him, the same sort of light pleasure one got from seeing any friendly acquaintance, but his presence in the kitchen was somewhat more unwelcome. Her confusion increased as he drifted around the kitchen when the Matron ran off, seemingly at random, before stopping to stand near to her, smiling at her and then wandering away without saying anything else.

What absolutely, completely baffling behavior.

As he drifted away, Aurelie reached a sort of decision. There was an opportunity here for her to ask after her sister, and she wasn't going to waste it. Besides, it would be rather nice to see if she could manage something like a proper conversation this time. Mr. Ibutatu had been kind to her twice now, and she felt that warranted at least a small conversation about pleasantries. Didn't it?

When Matron came back by with the tea as requested, Aurelie stepped out from behind her table, brushing her hands off on the front of her pinafore. The older woman had been saying something about bringing it back to the room for him--that would work very nicely.

"Ah, pardon me Matron but I--I'm finished with my work, if you'd like me to take this for you...? You have more preparations to do after all... And it wouldn't be right for Mr.--ah, for our guest to have carry it himself." Her tone and posture were demure; the very picture of a young woman trying to be of service. Aurelie smiled a little overly brightly, and didn't look at anything but Matron.

[moralhazard]

Mid-Afternoon, 18 Vortas, 2717
The Kitchens, Brunnhold

Uzoji had been careful to wander a little more, just a little, then turned and drifted back towards the entrance. He clasped his hands lightly behind his back, and stood as if there was nothing at all strange about his presence there.

Eventually - as he had known it would - even before the older woman came back, the ripples of his presence had seemed to smooth out. Uzoji could think of a dozen worse such situations, and these passives were used to galdori - although, evidently, not one in their kitchen. He held, and he waited, comfortably and easily, and in time most of them had turned back to their work, with only the faintest shifting of eyes on him. He smiled through it, always, and nothing in him looked in the least uncomfortable.

He hadn’t really expected to find Aurelie Steerpike in the kitchens, but Uzoji was pleased with it nonetheless. Hulali had a strange way of guiding his path, Uzoji thought, but he had long since learned to steer with the currents. It was like a gift from the Gods, really, as he had not been at all sure how to actually find the young passive - and he had very much wanted to speak with her.

“Here, sir,” the woman had returned with a pot of steaming tea, cups and all the rest, set on a tray. She hesitated, standing in front of him. Uzoji shifted slightly, as if to take it, and her hands tightened on the handles.

“I could bring it back to the room for you,” she said, uncertainly.

Uzoji hesitated, just a half a breath, hoping -

It was difficult not to smile at Aurelie’s quick entrance, her bright tone and little smile.

The woman nodded to the passive, looking grateful. “Thank you, Miss Aurelie,” she said, and handed the heavy tray to the young girl. She hesitated, as if she had wanted to say something else. Uzoji smiled pleasantly, and was careful not to broaden it.

“Have a good day, sir,” the woman said, uncertainly, with a faint bend at the waist.

“Thank you, madam,” Uzoji bowed to her, properly, aware of another ripple of little gasps.

He held the door for Aurelie, rather insistently, and followed her out into the hallway. He gave it a few moments from the edge of the kitchen, and then he grinned at her, and glanced around, waiting a moment until there was no one in sight. It was a quiet afternoon; those last weeks of the term always were, as students threw themselves frantically into the last of their work.

“Here, give me that,” Uzoji said, reaching for the tray, patient, insistent and unyielding, as if he had absolutely no doubt that she would give it to him. “It’s good to see you, Ms. Steerpike,” he sounded thoroughly pleased with himself now, and almost a little smug. “I hoped you might take the hint.” He offered her a cheerful little grin, friendly, as if they were co-conspirators.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Uzoji might have had no doubt that Aurelie would give the tray to him, but she was feeling less shy now than she had before. She kept an iron grip on the edge of the tray, shaking her head.

"Thank you, Mr. Ibutatu, but--I should, er, keep ahold of it." A little frown tugged at the corners of her mouth. She wasn't sure how to phrase this politely. "It would not do, if someone were to--it would not seem, er, proper." There. Had that been sufficient? It wasn't that she didn't appreciate, to some degree, what seemed to be a gesture. However pleased she was to see a friendly face, it wouldn't do to forget how things might appear. Suppose someone walked by, and saw--what? A servant girl carrying nothing because she'd made a visitor do it? No. That would cause more trouble than she was willing to take on. Enough trouble that she was willing to push back, gently.

His conspiratorial grin puzzled her almost as much, as, well, all the rest of it. "Hint? I, er. Hmm." She felt a little embarrassed to have to admit she had done nothing of the kind. Really she didn't have to admit it, probably. Aurelie just couldn't seem to keep her mouth shut.

"...How, ah, far is it? To the professor, I mean." What she meant to ask was, how long did she have to ask after her sister, and perhaps other things besides, but it came out more rude than she intended. She had been distraught the first time they met, and surprised the second--this, then, was her in a more natural frame of mind. Tripping over her own tongue.

"Oh! It's, er--it's good to see you! Surprising. I mean, hmm. I hope you've been well? And, ah, how is your wife? N... Niccolette?" Aurelie hoped she'd remembered the name correctly. While she was genuinely interested in the answer, Aurelie also partially asked out of a sense of propriety. Asking after Ana before she'd inquired about other, more general matters seemed impolite, although it was also possible that she was rude to ask as well. Speaking to galdori visitors was much easier when it simply didn't happen.

[moralhazard]

Mid-Afternoon, 18 Vortas, 2717
A Hallway, Brunnhold

Uzoji looked down at Aurelie when she kept hold of the tray. He paused a moment, and he nodded. ”You’re right,” he said, offering her an apologetic smile. His field was not precisely dampened around them, but it was crisply indectal, the weight of physical and the heat of static mona neatly mingled together. “My apologies.”

She’d done it politely too, Uzoji thought, but he shouldn’t have put her in that situation. He was never quite sure, with Aurelie, whether he was doing something helpful for her or only for himself. He was conscious of the sort of charity that existed only to make the giver feel good. He would have said he disdained it, but he was aware that he ran the risk of edging towards it.

Nor, Uzoji thought regretfully, should he have been quite so pleased with himself. Aurelie had not had to volunteer to take the tray; he hadn’t, he thought, put any pressure on her.

Aurelie asked how far it was to the Professor, and it was with considerable effort that Uzoji kept himself from raising his eyebrows. “Not quite ten minutes,” he said, evenly. The sitting room wasn’t far; that was why he had thought to go to the kitchens at all, rather than elsewhere.

Aurelie found something like manners then, and tripped over them, although at least only verbally. “Yes, thank you,” Uzoji said when she asked if he’d been well. He smiled, a little wryly, twisting the ring around his finger, thinking of the last time he had seen Aurelie. He suppressed the desire to shudder. “Niccolette, yes, that’s right. She’s well also,” his smile widened, slowly, and softened.

Uzoji paused, then, in the conversation, although he kept the same even pace. “Look,” he said. “I don’t intend to...” the Mugrobi was quiet for moment, frowning slightly; he felt uncertain, and he didn’t quite know how to deal with it. After a moment, he decided to put it out directly.

“Here,” Uzoji reached into the inside pocket of his coat, and came out with a few newspaper clippings - mostly not news so much as gossip and fashion columns, all of them mentioning Miss Liliana Steerpike, clipped together. He glanced around, and set them gently on the edge of the tea tray.

“These are for you,” Uzoji said, looking down at Aurelie. He tried a soft, friendly smile. “If I’ve overstepped, I apologize. I thought you might like them.”

He hadn’t thought much more than that the first time. He had not, Uzoji realized ruefully, thought much at all. He read several of the Viendan papers, whether a day late in the Rose or three late in the Islands, and a once-weekly Florne publication, among a handful of others from the Islands and Thul Ka. He did not always read them all cover to cover, and the gossip and fashion columns were more Niccolette’s focus - she read them with the same careful intensity she applied to spell work - but he had come across Ana’s name one day on the island, and he had wondered, and without thinking more deeply about it, he’d cut the article out and set it aside.

And, then, slowly, he had amassed a little collection of them, and with the trip to Brunnhold, he had thought he might as well bring them. And now, here he was, looking down at Aurelie Steerpike and wondering if it had, after all, been a purely selfish impulse.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Vortas 18, 2717 Mid-Afternoon | En Route

Only ten minutes! Well, that was fine. She couldn't be gone too long, she thought. Her face pinked a little with realization of her own rudeness. Truly, she hadn't meant to be so--well. Nothing to be done about it now, she would have to fret over it later in her own time.

When Uzoji paused in the conversation, Aurelie just waited. She was glad she had managed to find her wits enough to be polite. Glad, too, to hear that both he and the wife she had never met were well--even if it was just a pleasantry. It was always good to hear such things. She was puzzled when he spoke again, unsure of where the conversation was going. Aurelie's confusion only increased when he set what looked like newspaper clippings down on the edge of the tray she carried and smiled at her, asking if he overstepped.

For a stricken moment, she wondered why he would--but no, she had confessed to reading the paper, from time to time, had she not? Still--what were these? Aurelie did her best to glance them over as she walked, her pace slowing as she concentrated. Oh, she was literate to be sure. The skill was sore out of practice, however, and it was agonizingly slow going for her to even skim what was set in front of her. Though she was unaware of doing so, her mouth moved a little with the words as she read.

"Oh!" Her exclamation was a little too loud. The girl bit her lip and tried again. "Are these... are they all about my sister? I--oh, I do like them! Very much, sir, I-- Thank you!" She made sure to tear her eyes away from the little pile of articles when she thanked him, her face positively beaming. This was so completely wonderful, she was beside herself. Aurelie had thought only to ask if perhaps either he or even his wife had seen Lilliana in the past months, and if she was looking well. Perhaps asked more about how she knew Niccolette, or... something. To be given not just that opportunity, but something like this? Aurelie was touched that he'd even thought of it, let alone brought them along. He couldn't even have known he would see her to give them to her. The young woman was almost as surprised that by having been remembered as by the clippings themselves.

"Oh but... Chimes, I suppose, er, would you. Ah. Mind holding this for a moment then, after all? I'll--I'll take it back I just, er... I should put these in my pocket before someone... before we get that far down the hall. This is so--thank you, again, truly." It felt rude, somehow, to remind him that she shouldn't have them at all. News of her sister! For her! Aurelie's delight was hard to contain, and she needed no field to broadcast it.

[moralhazard]

Mid-Afternoon, 18 Vortas, 2717
A Hallway, Brunnhold

There was a long pause while Aurelie tried to read the clippings while walking. Her face was still slightly red from the heat of the kitchens, and it creased in a frown as she read, her lips carefully forming the words one by one. Uzoji kept pace with her without looking like it was anything but exactly how fast he wanted to walk, and he waited.

He saw the moment when she read her sister’s name, or at least he thought he did. She gasped, aloud, and looked up at him, and thanked him. She was beaming; when she smiled, Uzoji thought, she did look a good deal more like her sister.

Uzoji smiled back, relieved. “They all mention her, at least, yes,” he said. There weren’t so many clippings, really – not more than a half-dozen. He had done it the first time on a whim, and then again, afterwards, because a thing was not worth doing without it being done properly. If it was selfish, then at least it had made her glad. That was all he had ever wanted, whether wallowing in his own misery after the loss of Aremu’s hand, or stewing about the fight with Niccolette; the little passive had come along, twice now, when Uzoji had needed something outside himself. There were no coincidences; only the river of one’s life, and the paths that Hulali set through it.

“Of course,” Uzoji held the tray for a moment while Aurelie put the clippings away. He smiled at her, and handed it back after a moment, without protesting. He did understand that she could not be seen with them; he had known all along that she was not meant to have them. He trusted her to know where to hide them, and what to do; he had gotten the impression from their last meeting that it was something she had done before.

“You’re welcome,” Uzoji said. He waited until Aurelie was situated, and they began to walk away, carefully continuing down the hall. He did not tell her it was nothing; it was nothing, for him, but it was a great deal for her, and he was too aware of that to trivialize it. Instead, after a moment, Uzoji smiled. “I am glad to have been able to do it.”

“If I come across more,” Uzoji said, glancing sideways and down at the small passive, “I’d be glad to bring them. We’re not in Brunnhold often, but perhaps there’s a place I can leave them for you.” A drop, he thought, but didn’t say; he doubted, somehow, that Aurelie Steerpike would be familiar with the language used by pirates and smugglers, or even that used by legitimate merchants.

“Of course,” Uzoji said, lightly, “you wouldn’t want to have to check too often.” He glanced around, gaze lingering on hallway windows. “Is there a window you pass most days?” He asked Aurelie, and he grinned again.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Vortas 18, 2717 Mid-Afternoon | A Hallway

"Thank you," she said once more for good measure after he handed the tray back to her. The little bundle was burning a hole in her pocket. As soon as this shift is over, she told herself, I'll go read them. She had a little time where she wouldn't be missed, she thought. Just a little time to herself. Enough to print every word to memory.

Aurelie blinked up at Uzoji's sideways glance. More? She knew it was a simple thing, almost nothing for him. Yet, once again she was struck by the kindness of a stranger who had no reason to be kind to her. Not even the apparent friendship between Niccolette and her Ana called for that. Aurelie had thought him strange the first time they met; she thought him strange still, but it was a pleasant sort of strangeness.

"Oh that--really? I would be so-- are you sure? I wouldn't want to, er, inconvenience you, though if you're already coming this way, I suppose... Well, that is, if you really wouldn't mind, uhm..." Aurelie tried to still her flustered stream of words and think about the question at hand. Where could such things be left? After a moment she realized she knew the perfect place. "Would--the garden bench, er, where I was--would you find it again? I'm there, ah, often enough. N-not all the time, but it's easy to get to and... yes. That would be a good place, I think? And as for a window..."

Here again Aurelie was forced to pause to think. She passed many windows, generally speaking. She wasn't sure what the window was for, precisely, but she thought she might understand. If she was right, something relatively inconspicuous might be best.

"There's... There's one between these kitchens and Scr-- the-- er, my room. Back the way we came. It overlooks a sort of, er, pathway. Where we can watch for deliveries. For the kitchen. I'm usually--that's where I spend most mornings. I, ah, prefer to be there early. T-to help. Would... would that do?"

Making suggestions was not her forte, outside of her work. It made her nervous that she had somehow selected something unsuitable. Uzoji's grin was infectious, though, and she found herself hopefully smiling back.

[moralhazard]

Mid-Afternoon, 18 Vortas, 2717
A Hallway, Brunnhold

Uzoji smiled through Aurelie’s flustered fumblings, patient, and tried not to let it go to his head. Niccolette, he thought cheerfully, would very much enjoy pricking his ego if he let it get too swollen. Better to play it safe.

“I would not mind,” Uzoji said, firmly. To question the offer was to question his honesty. He was not offended; he knew that Mugrobi culture was unfamiliar to Aurelie. How could she know? He had dealt with worse from those in Brunnhold who should have known better - sometimes, deliberately, from those who did. Aurelie, he knew, was trying to be careful, trying to be polite. It was easy enough not to take it poorly; he could not have lived so long in Anaxas if he hadn’t learned the knack of it.

“The bench should work quite well,” Uzoji said, pleased. “We really only come every few seasons. I’ll find somewhere to put a tin, out of sight, and I’ll leave the articles there. When I’m here,” Uzoji grinned, “if I can find this delivery pathway of yours, I’ll tie a handkerchief to the branches outside. That’ll be your signal to go and check for the clippings.”

They were still walking down the hallway. Uzoji thought about it, and he did not ask. Aurelie was not as they thought she was, here. She was, too, not quite so young as he had thought at first. She was old enough to make her own choices and to accept any possible consequences therein. If she did not want the clippings, she would have said so; it was clear she knew she was not meant to have them.

“Here,” Uzoji said with a smile, stopping at one of the doors. “Good luck, Miss Steerpike. I‘m glad to have seen you once again.”

Uzoji would give Aurelie time to say whatever she wished - whatever she needed - and then he would rap lightly on the door with his knuckles, and open it. “Professor?” He called, lightly.

Osefe cleared his throat into a handkerchief, looking up at Uzoji, still seated at the table. He squinted at Aurelie. “Ah!” He said, pleased. “Thank you, Miss.” he cleared his throat again, rasping.

Uzoji took the tray from Aurelie with a grin, insistent bow. He set it down on the table, and began to pour, steaming dark liquid streaming into the cups.

Osefe sighed. “Anaxi do love their tea.”

“Don’t worry,” Uzoji said, cheerfully, adding a spoonful of honey to each cup. “Niccolette and I shall take you for a proper cup of kofi after dinner. No milk or sugar to be found.”

Osefe laughed. ”As welcome as a sunrise after a long night!” He smiled once more at Aurelie, and offered her a little nod.

“Thank you,” Uzoji said, smiling at her. He set a cup of tea before Osefe, and took his own back to his seat, settling in.

“Now,” Osefe said. “I have remembered what I wanted to tell you. Hazaram has written a paper I think you shall like, about artevium.”

Uzoji grinned, and settled in, listening attentively. He knew better than to look again at Aurelie; it was best, he thought, to let her go unremarked. He would ask Ahura to keep an eye for Lilliana Steerpike in the papers that came to the island, Uzoji decided. Why not?

[Aurelie Steerpike]

They had already arrived, and Aurelie was at a loss for things to say. So she settled on the simplest truth she could think of.

"Thank you, for--it does mean a lot, t-to me. And, er, it was--I'm glad, too, sir. I'll watch for it, the signal."

When the door opened, she let habit take over where thought wouldn't do. Now she did let Uzoji take the tray, her duty complete. She bowed and she shuffled and she let herself fade away, as she was supposed to. Just a little of her pleasure shone through, and only if one cared to look for it.

As Uzoji and the professor settled in to their discussion, she slipped out of the room and was off down the hall. For once not even the kitchens held much draw for her. Everything in her was focused on the little bundle of papers in her pocket, and the promise of more. A shared secret--she rather liked that.

Next time, if there was one... No, there would be, she thought. The next time, then, maybe she would be brave enough to talk a little more. Ask a little more. Aurelie would have liked to have learned a little more about the man who had done such an odd thing as to be kind to her. She was in no hurry. There was time, after all.