It sounds like a reprimand. Tertia tries very hard not to hear it as a reprimand. It's that wording, do you have any idea - she can't help but wonder if that means he thinks she wouldn't have an idea. Has she come across so very dull? Has she already made mistakes? Or is he simply hostile to her, to her cause...
An answer. He needs an answer. "I'm a mage, Commander." And there's more to it, of course, things that Tertia is fully aware of even if she's not fully comfortable with them - That she's small, and soft-spoken, and agreeable, and when people look at her they often feel some instinctual sympathy. But those are devious and manipulative reasons - if not necessarily evil ones - and so she does not want to say them aloud.
"We've heard that many of Riftwatch are mages - and we know that mages in the South are in strange circumstances, and often don't trust Soporati."
Behind her, the heavy outer door swings open. There is a murmur of sound, conversation coming to a close as a man crosses the threshold, sees the latch swung into place behind him. Habit so near to instinct as to be unthinking.
If John Silver is surprised by unexpected company of a small girl, a little pigeon-toed, young, anxious, elven, professing herself to be a mage, it does not show in his expression. It is taken in stride, a brief, sharp study done in a single pass of his eyes as he crosses the room. (Near silent now, on his crutch.)
In his hand there is a heavy pewter tankard. It is set at one unoccupied corner, easily reached by both the occupant of the desk, and John himself, should he settle into the chair draw at a slant to the window just behind the desk. The shutters are propped open. There is a sheaf of paper held in place by a map case that might have been lifted back upon his return, except there is something else to occupy his attention.
"Strange circumstances is an interesting way of putting it."
A quiet aside, perhaps solely for Tertia's benefit as John's eyes slant to Flint. Measuring, weighing, coming to some conclusion as to his own role in the room without further question.
The line of Flint's shoulders had sharpened abruptly at the catching of the latch, his attention cutting briefly back across Tertia's shoulder—the bristling hackles of a dog in possession of a bone it has every intention of defending, only to be quickly relaxed the moment the identity of the interloper clarifies itself. The point of his attention returns promptly to the girl after with the purpose of pinning her there lest she be easily spooked by a multiplying audience.
"Messere Silver," is clearly meant to serve as an introduction more so than a greeting given its direction. "Our resident Master of Information. You can trust that anything you say in this room would have made it to his ear eventually, and this his knowing it will be to your benefit."
Her letter of introduction is summarily fetched up and passed over to Silver with the cursory, "Tertia. She and her people are in rebellion against the Magisterium," and a far more pointed look.
"I know, Lord Commander," she replies. There's a slight hint of anxiety when she confesses this, looking between the two of them - unsure how this will be taken, whether it will be heard as manipulative or flattering or something of the sort.
"I've - We know of both of you. That you defied the Imperium, time and again." She meets Flint's eyes, then looks away again, a little unnerved by the intensity of his gaze. Is he looking at her like that because he thinks she's suspicious? Is that why the Master of Information has come in? To investigate whether or not she's lying...? Oh, she hopes her faith has not been misplaced. She hopes that Irene's judgment hasn't been poor.
"It's why I've come here." Not to some other power, greater in strength or influence - but to Riftwatch. Because these men of influence have spat in the faces of the Magisters.
The look is held for a beat, John looking into Flint's face to gather all meaning there before he considers the letter. Skims it quickly, inspection truncated by the necessity of observing the girl herself as she imparts this information. The parchment in John's hand is folded over once, loosely. Examination held in check, because the letter itself is secondary to the girl who presents herself to them.
(What he has gathered: an opportunity. An evaluation.)
She knows of them. She is here because of it, rather than what typically draws a person to Riftwatch and its collection of oddities and unpopular causes.
"Why now?" John prompts. Tone mild. The letter is returned to the desk. His weight is shifted to settle more comfortably on his crutch. "What prompts you to seek us out now?"
Strange—to be reminded that certain names were designed to carry. The Gallows sometimes feels exactly like the prison it was devised as. Whether he's conscious of it or not, the confession takes some of the sharp edge from the point of Flint's attention. Or maybe the point of flexion is the simple fact that he apparently doesn't have to justify John Silver's sudden interference to some flighty, once enslaved northern mage. Regardless, he sits back. A hand rising habitually toward the corner of his mouth where he might absently smooth the bristle of whiskers there.
Why now? It's a fair question, says the slant of Flint's brow.
(Though does the answer really matter, or is it only a matter of semantics? Of course it does, it just hardly checks the impulse to begin to think beyond this room and the pigeon-toed girl in it who must be more instrument than not.)
"Yes, Messere," Tertia replies, ducking her head in acknowledgment of the question. Her voice is light and soft, timid, in a way that contrasts rather oddly with the fluency with which she describes the situation in the North.
"There's been frustration with the war. The Elder One isn't winning the victories he promised - progress has been slow, and there have even been some defeats. And some people are speaking up against him publicly. Even some Magisters. So people are starting to wonder if we'll win this war.
"And they're starting to wonder how much his promises are worth. He elevated Calpernia to his side, and early on, when he took Minrathous, he freed slaves." Like me. "But that's been it. He's had the power to cut down the worst of the slavers, but he hasn't."
She fidgets slightly, and looks up at them again. "But there are still plenty who still have faith in the Elder One. They're suspicious of my mission. So - convincing them won't be simple. If you decide that, um - that they're worth trying to convince."
As she winds to a close, hesitant over the highlighting of what seems to John to be such a clearly exploited weakness that there need be no uncertainty over it, his eyes leave her and cut to Flint.
Yes, John might make something of that.
"We've rarely found anything to be simple work, but that hasn't been a deterrent."
Are you tired beats briefly at the edges of his mind, there and gone again without gaining purchase. There is nothing to be served by that consideration, not in front of her.
The question that follows is obvious too, put to her as John's gaze returns to her face:
“Of course.” Her manner isn’t offended, but it is a little startled - taken aback by the suggestion that she could ever forget anything about what’s going on in her homeland.
Dorian Pavus had stood in this very room, very nearly on the exact spot as Tertia does now, not so very long ago. It's possible that there's something in the rhythm of those two points which satisfies the dregs of reservation lingering at the fringes of Flint's study of her, for hardly a beat after does his hand fall away from smoothing the corner of his unwaxed mustache.
There is no telling shift forward or knowing sidelong look passed in Silver's direction. Presumably they can skip past the pretense of such things and John can detect the presence of his interest by the omission as well as he might from such a glance's presence. From sat back in his chair—
"It does sound as if we might share similar concerns. And seeing as we're so familiar to one another, I suggest that you sit," he says, indicating the chair near her with a nod. "And describe the sort of partnership you believe your people might find most beneficial."
That letter had been tactfully light on the specifics, hadn't it?
Is that good? That he's inviting her to sit? Her gaze flits over to Messere Silver's face - but for all that he looks less stern than Commander Flint, he isn't all that much easier to read. But if they were rejecting her out of hand, then they wouldn't be spending more time with her. They're likely far too busy to be pityingly indulgent.
"Yes," she agrees breathily, and then slips over to the seat. She lays her staff awkwardly against the arm of the chair, then sits. Her feet dangle slightly.
Then she takes a breath, and says, "The first part of our partnership - we're thinking - would be attacks against slavers." She rubs a little anxiously at her callused hands as she speaks. "Specific ones. Ones allied with the Venatori. So that we could test how well we fight with one another, at the start."
Then - "If things seem promising - What we ultimately want is that Riftwatch supports and advocates for a free Tevinter after the end of the war." Among other things. But - that topic can wait for later. Tertia doesn't know how friendly these two might be to the condition of you won't interfere with our bloodier business - to be discovered later.
On paper, such a request should surely strike a person as uncontroversial. A free Tevinter. Wouldn't that be to everyone's benefit? And the timing would suit. Weakened after a defeat, concessions would be need to be made.
But having observed how any discussion within Riftwatch spirals, John refrains from immediate agreement on the latter point.
As to her former—
"I assume you can provide names. The names of their buyers and suppliers would be of use to us as well."
Who knows? Perhaps there would be some names that surprise them. Some that Yseult might make use of.
An aside, to Flint, "We might note those who receive their purchases by sea."
The tilt of his head toward that last point is a tic of consideration, a reflexive acknowledgement. If anyone in the South were found to still be trading under the table with the Imperium, there would be more to skewer them with than just the distasteful nature of the cargo in question. Nothing emitters a merchant invested in his ships' holds like someone else turning profit that he's been barred from.
He taps his thumb once, absently, there on the table top. Then Flint produces a fresh sheet of paper from a desk drawer and a pencil from the battered tin cup. She will have names and trade route secrets to hand, he's almost certain. But rather than immediately lay the page out for Tertia's use (Does she write?), instead—
"This all seems attainable."
Nevermind Riftwatch's ability to conjuring five divisive opinions for every two members of its ranks.
"Though it's important that you and your people understand that the apparent limits of Riftwatch's influence rarely fully reflects its resolve."
Her gaze lifts briefly to study Flint's face while he's talking, then falls again. But - This is good. This sounds really good. This seems attainable, and you can provide, and all of it - These are the sorts of things that people say when they're interested.
"It's better to have good intentions without power than it is to have power without good intentions," she says, and then feels lightly embarrassed at the smooth and well-turned way that had come out. It's embarrassing to seem more eloquent than you actually are, she decides.
"It's - That's all we've ever gotten from the Venatori. All the power to do whatever they want, but no action on any promise they've made." She looks up again, gaze passing between Silver and Flint. "We're tired of lies." Tired of lies, of being used, of being treated like children or idiots. Even ineffectuality would be better than that.
"Are you and your compatriots prepared to make some show of good faith?"
While they're considering power, who got what from which corner, it stands to reason that some point in the future, Flint will need to walk into a room and convince three other people of the benefits of this partnership. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but there would come a point where it would be necessary.
It will benefit him to have something to take with him other than assurances. John knows this.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
An answer. He needs an answer. "I'm a mage, Commander." And there's more to it, of course, things that Tertia is fully aware of even if she's not fully comfortable with them - That she's small, and soft-spoken, and agreeable, and when people look at her they often feel some instinctual sympathy. But those are devious and manipulative reasons - if not necessarily evil ones - and so she does not want to say them aloud.
"We've heard that many of Riftwatch are mages - and we know that mages in the South are in strange circumstances, and often don't trust Soporati."
lovingly details the opening of a door
If John Silver is surprised by unexpected company of a small girl, a little pigeon-toed, young, anxious, elven, professing herself to be a mage, it does not show in his expression. It is taken in stride, a brief, sharp study done in a single pass of his eyes as he crosses the room. (Near silent now, on his crutch.)
In his hand there is a heavy pewter tankard. It is set at one unoccupied corner, easily reached by both the occupant of the desk, and John himself, should he settle into the chair draw at a slant to the window just behind the desk. The shutters are propped open. There is a sheaf of paper held in place by a map case that might have been lifted back upon his return, except there is something else to occupy his attention.
"Strange circumstances is an interesting way of putting it."
A quiet aside, perhaps solely for Tertia's benefit as John's eyes slant to Flint. Measuring, weighing, coming to some conclusion as to his own role in the room without further question.
puts thumb over timestamp
"Messere Silver," is clearly meant to serve as an introduction more so than a greeting given its direction. "Our resident Master of Information. You can trust that anything you say in this room would have made it to his ear eventually, and this his knowing it will be to your benefit."
Her letter of introduction is summarily fetched up and passed over to Silver with the cursory, "Tertia. She and her people are in rebellion against the Magisterium," and a far more pointed look.
no subject
"I've - We know of both of you. That you defied the Imperium, time and again." She meets Flint's eyes, then looks away again, a little unnerved by the intensity of his gaze. Is he looking at her like that because he thinks she's suspicious? Is that why the Master of Information has come in? To investigate whether or not she's lying...? Oh, she hopes her faith has not been misplaced. She hopes that Irene's judgment hasn't been poor.
"It's why I've come here." Not to some other power, greater in strength or influence - but to Riftwatch. Because these men of influence have spat in the faces of the Magisters.
no subject
(What he has gathered: an opportunity. An evaluation.)
She knows of them. She is here because of it, rather than what typically draws a person to Riftwatch and its collection of oddities and unpopular causes.
"Why now?" John prompts. Tone mild. The letter is returned to the desk. His weight is shifted to settle more comfortably on his crutch. "What prompts you to seek us out now?"
no subject
Why now? It's a fair question, says the slant of Flint's brow.
(Though does the answer really matter, or is it only a matter of semantics? Of course it does, it just hardly checks the impulse to begin to think beyond this room and the pigeon-toed girl in it who must be more instrument than not.)
no subject
"There's been frustration with the war. The Elder One isn't winning the victories he promised - progress has been slow, and there have even been some defeats. And some people are speaking up against him publicly. Even some Magisters. So people are starting to wonder if we'll win this war.
"And they're starting to wonder how much his promises are worth. He elevated Calpernia to his side, and early on, when he took Minrathous, he freed slaves." Like me. "But that's been it. He's had the power to cut down the worst of the slavers, but he hasn't."
She fidgets slightly, and looks up at them again. "But there are still plenty who still have faith in the Elder One. They're suspicious of my mission. So - convincing them won't be simple. If you decide that, um - that they're worth trying to convince."
no subject
Yes, John might make something of that.
"We've rarely found anything to be simple work, but that hasn't been a deterrent."
Are you tired beats briefly at the edges of his mind, there and gone again without gaining purchase. There is nothing to be served by that consideration, not in front of her.
The question that follows is obvious too, put to her as John's gaze returns to her face:
"Do you recall which Magisters?"
no subject
“Pavus and Tilani.”
no subject
There is no telling shift forward or knowing sidelong look passed in Silver's direction. Presumably they can skip past the pretense of such things and John can detect the presence of his interest by the omission as well as he might from such a glance's presence. From sat back in his chair—
"It does sound as if we might share similar concerns. And seeing as we're so familiar to one another, I suggest that you sit," he says, indicating the chair near her with a nod. "And describe the sort of partnership you believe your people might find most beneficial."
That letter had been tactfully light on the specifics, hadn't it?
no subject
"Yes," she agrees breathily, and then slips over to the seat. She lays her staff awkwardly against the arm of the chair, then sits. Her feet dangle slightly.
Then she takes a breath, and says, "The first part of our partnership - we're thinking - would be attacks against slavers." She rubs a little anxiously at her callused hands as she speaks. "Specific ones. Ones allied with the Venatori. So that we could test how well we fight with one another, at the start."
Then - "If things seem promising - What we ultimately want is that Riftwatch supports and advocates for a free Tevinter after the end of the war." Among other things. But - that topic can wait for later. Tertia doesn't know how friendly these two might be to the condition of you won't interfere with our bloodier business - to be discovered later.
no subject
But having observed how any discussion within Riftwatch spirals, John refrains from immediate agreement on the latter point.
As to her former—
"I assume you can provide names. The names of their buyers and suppliers would be of use to us as well."
Who knows? Perhaps there would be some names that surprise them. Some that Yseult might make use of.
An aside, to Flint, "We might note those who receive their purchases by sea."
no subject
He taps his thumb once, absently, there on the table top. Then Flint produces a fresh sheet of paper from a desk drawer and a pencil from the battered tin cup. She will have names and trade route secrets to hand, he's almost certain. But rather than immediately lay the page out for Tertia's use (Does she write?), instead—
"This all seems attainable."
Nevermind Riftwatch's ability to conjuring five divisive opinions for every two members of its ranks.
"Though it's important that you and your people understand that the apparent limits of Riftwatch's influence rarely fully reflects its resolve."
no subject
"It's better to have good intentions without power than it is to have power without good intentions," she says, and then feels lightly embarrassed at the smooth and well-turned way that had come out. It's embarrassing to seem more eloquent than you actually are, she decides.
"It's - That's all we've ever gotten from the Venatori. All the power to do whatever they want, but no action on any promise they've made." She looks up again, gaze passing between Silver and Flint. "We're tired of lies." Tired of lies, of being used, of being treated like children or idiots. Even ineffectuality would be better than that.
no subject
While they're considering power, who got what from which corner, it stands to reason that some point in the future, Flint will need to walk into a room and convince three other people of the benefits of this partnership. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but there would come a point where it would be necessary.
It will benefit him to have something to take with him other than assurances. John knows this.