Flexible Morals Ch. 03

"Goodness me," he breathed with a startled ribbit. "Now there's a grand sight. Why, compared to this, the academy seems like a muddy little hole in the ground. That's actually what it was, to be perfectly honest. Of course, it always felt a might more impressive back then."

Phyre drew her arm back in, worried that her friend might be being too loud. Her movement did little to discourage his talkativeness.

"See, with my wish, you could have a big, old mansion of your own whipped up in no time. Just think, a warm, shiny place like this, all to yourself."

Phyre did wonder about it as Drop jumped back down into her sleeve. A mansion like this one, all she had to do was say the word. She could put it somewhere in the forest on a hill of its own. With a stable and walls of stone and a garden filled with things from all across the world.

"Just say the word," came Drop's muffled voice through her clothes.

She didn't say the word. Perhaps, after all this was over, she would. For now there needed to be no distractions. No great house to lose herself in until this had been seen through. She returned her attention to what was happening around her. A man, clad in a fine, blue-trimmed tunic and pants, was opening the door to come out and greet his visitors. He descended the pearly marble steps, clasped his hands together, and spoke.

"Good evening, my friends. I am Raleek. I understand that you have a matter to put before my master."

"You've got that right, butler. There're brigands in Fissure. What's Mr. Gilbride plan on doing about it?" Hatra thrust an accusatory finger towards Raleek as if she expected him to be the one to solve the problem instead.

"Indeed, this is a grave concern." His brow furrowed thoughtfully but it looked more for show than anything else. "The master is enjoying his evening meal, presently, but I shall put it before him nonetheless. If you would be so kind as to accompany me inside. You may wait for his response in the hall."

"That's more like it. At least there's somebody around here who understands how important this is," said Hatra to nobody in particular as she and Phyre followed the butler into the house.

The hall, as Raleek had put it, was certainly not anything like Phyre had been expecting. Her voice found it immense, cavernous yet brightly lit, as it stretched outwards and upwards beyond the mansion's threshold. A stairway stood towards the back and led upwards before splitting left and right to lead to the second floor. Further up, a balcony overlook from the third, yet there were no further stairs in sight and no other clues on how to get up there. Perhaps elsewhere in the mansion. There was certainly enough room for it. On the ground level, several passageways led off to the sides, each lit with lamps along the walls. She had been wrong about the building being entirely stone. Only the outside was. The inside had a wooden floor, laden with rugs that served to mark walkways, and walls that had been adorned with all manner of decor. A shield, painted a magnificent blue, crossed with two swords hung on one side with two banners to accompany it. A pair of statues guarded the foot of the stairs. One depicted a man holding a pickaxe at arms length. The other had a similar pose only it was holding a rock instead, perhaps meant to signify a lump of ore from the mine.

Raleek darted had darted away while Phyre admired the decor. She hadn't seen which way he had gone and he was already beyond the reach of her voice. The mansion, despite its size, had quite a bit of noise throughout. She could hear footsteps on one of the floors above and voices down a passageway on the left. The words from that direction she couldn't make out, though they sounded excited and jovial. Then there came a sudden outburst of hearty laughter and her curiosity became too much. Phyre raised her whispered song of sight to a greater volume and peeked down the passageway. Her voice crept along, past several doors that led to lifeless rooms, until it came to one that looked like a dining hall for the servants, judging by its lesser decor. Several people were currently occupying it and chatting amongst themselves. Two of them looked familiar and, for a moment, she struggled to recall when she had seen them before.

Phyre's veins ran ice when she realized, and recalled a morning several days ago, a morning with her mother's song and the smell of a good breakfast to come. Three men approaching from outside the kitchen window. Two Skytouched and a Solar. These men here were the former.

In the moments after that revelation, Phyre's mind went into overdrive. Here, no more than a couple of dozen meters from where she was standing, were two of the people who had killed her parents. There came a flash of desire to confront them, only for it to be stamped out by the fear of what would result. What if they saw her? What if anyone else here saw her? Would they try to kill her like they had her mother and father? The world seemed to sway.

"Hatra," she managed. "We have to go."

"Hmm? Whatever do you mean?" asked the Skytouched. "The butler will be back any minute. We might just get to speak with Mr. Gilbride about those brigands."

"But they're here." Phyre took a step towards the door.

"Who? You're not making any sense."

"The men. The ones who burnt down my home. They're over there." She pointed towards the passageway that led to where they were seated. Neither had moved.

Hatra followed Phyre's arm and ended up staring at a patch of empty wall. "But, there's nobody there."

"No, down the hall. They're sitting around a table in a dining room. Just two of them. I don't know where the third one is." Suddenly that thought chilled her body even more. If the two Skytouched were here, the Solar probably was as well. He could be anywhere, sneaking up on her this very instant. "Can we please go?" she begged. They needed to retreat and think of a different approach to justice.

"But how can you— oh, with your voice, that's right. You mean the murderers are right down there? We have to tell Mr. Gilbride at once."

"No, we should leave. What if he's in charge of them." Phyre wrung her hands together. Why couldn't this wretched woman see the danger they were in.

"Well, I should imagine he's in charge of them. I'm sure just about everyone here is in Mr. Gilbride's employ, it's his— hold on, you think that he's the one who put them up to it?" She looked incredulous at such an accusation.

Phyre could only nod.

"But that's absurd. Mr. Gilbride is a kind man who takes good care of Fissure. This is nothing more than a misunderstanding and it's our duty to clear things up so that these men can be punished. Now if you're going to keep acting like this, you're welcome to wait outside. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of this myself, should you wish it."

Phyre opened her mouth to protest some more but the look on Hatra's face made her close it again. She considered her options. There was little in the world that she would have liked less than to stay another minute in this mansion, especially when the third man could make his appearance at any moment. Yet, at the same time, she didn't want to leave Mrs. Lanis' side. There was danger here and she couldn't let the woman wrap herself up in it.

Unless, there's only danger to me, Phyre realized. It was a distinct possibility. Mr. Gilbride, if he truly was involved, would probably overlook Hatra's intrusion as nothing more than an innocent woman with a concern to voice. "Okay, I'll wait outside," said Phyre.

"I'm sure I shan't be too long."

She pushed open the doors and hurried out of the mansion and into the cool, night air. Phyre kept a brisk pace as she walked around the pond, aiming to wait for Hatra outside the main gate, but not so brisk as to attract too much attention. Her voice swept around in search of the Solar. There were several who made her heart skip as she spotted them with their blondish hair and pale, yellow suncrests embedded in their palms. None were the one she was so afraid to see.

"I say, was that all true back there?" asked Drop. In her haste, she had forgotten all about the frog and hadn't felt him moving up her sleeve. "Are two of those rogues really staying here?"

"Of course that was them, why would I lie?"

"Right, well this is certainly a dilemma, isn't it. Do you really think that they could be in league with Fissure's Patab? What is a Patab, anyway?"

She was almost at the gate. One of the guards there was watching her approach and readying to open it up. "In Litides it sort of means 'father leader.' And I do think that they might be working for him. Why else would they be at his house?"

"But surely he didn't... He couldn't have hired them, could he?"

"I don't know. We'll have to find out."

Phyre passed through the gate unchallenged and proceeded downhill. Once she had rounded a bend in the road and was safely out of sight of the manor, she stopped to wait for Hatra. Phyre sat herself upon the hillside and found it growing damp with the evening. Such discomfort didn't faze her, the true concern came from wondering about Mrs. Lanis.

"Do you think she'll be alright?" Phyre asked.

"Seems to me that she can handle herself." Drop fully emerged from her sleeve and hopped out onto her knee. "Ah, there's a good moon out tonight, nearly full."

"I can't see it," Phyre mumbled, her mind elsewhere.

Drop made a startled croak. "Can't see it? But it's right in front of you, plain as day."

"No, I mean it's too far for my voice to reach."

The little wishing frog pulsed his throat thoughtfully. "So, you've never seen the moon before?"

"I've seen it in reflections or in paintings."

Another pause while the frog considered her words. "Seeing with your voice sounds awfully confusing to me."

"No... Well, it is a bit. It's a kind of magic. I can see anything that my voice can reach, but that's all. Colors and writing are a bit hard to figure out sometimes and reflections are really tricky but you just have to focus enough."

"Mmm, I still think it's rather perplexing."

Phyre raised her voice for a moment to sweep it back towards the manor. No sign of Hatra yet, but it hadn't been very long. As the minutes crept by, Phyre began to grow more and more worried. What might have happened to the woman? She tried not to think about it. Indulging in such fantasies would only allow one's mind to wander away and assume the worst. Hatra, despite her bluntness, wasn't stupid. She could take care of herself just fine. Besides, nobody had any reason to think that she had some special involvement with the brigands.

Except that she's letting me stay at her home, the grim, logical side of Phyre's mind filled in. Would such a thing come up in the conversation? Would it even mean anything to anyone? No way to know until it happened.

"She's taking a while," said Phyre to the frog who was still gazing at the sky.

"Mmm, perhaps just waffling on a bit. Seems to me she does that quite a lot."

"I suppose."

There was a moment of silence before Drop uttered a chirping ribbet that almost sounded as if he was trying to clear his throat. "On the subject of wishing for a house, my lady, I've been meaning to ask you something."

"What?" She turned her head down to him.

"Well, once all this is over, I'm not quite sure where I'll be off to. Do you suppose, when you wish up your mansion, that you could wish a nice, shady pond to go with it? Somewhere for me to live, I mean." He stared at her with his big, wet eyes filled with hope.

"Of course I can. A pond with all the shade you could ever want. And no strider birds, I'll make sure of that."

"Oh, thankyou my friend, I hadn't even thought of the birds. Yes, it would be nice not to have to worry about those ever again." Drop fell into silence then, his throat pulsing happily as he turned around to stare at the view again.

Phyre looked at the frog and his markings. Such a perfect tear-drop shape on his back, it was quite remarkable.

"You're very welcome," Drop said suddenly.

"What?"

"For the pond," he explained.

The words didn't quite reach Phyre. Further up the road towards Mr. Gilbride's manor, a distraction had emerged. She could see Hatra approaching, alive and unharmed.