The exercise:
Write about: the knife.
Got a couple things coming up this week. Haven't written either of them yet so I'm not going to commit to them appearing on any particular days.
In fact, I had hoped to do one today.
Clearly, I was not organized enough for that.
So, stay tuned.
3 comments:
I did notice that the prompt was a little late going up today, and I guessed that you might have been intending to write directly rather than scheduling a prompt. And while I have spontaneity, it seems that it's not what you'd intended... intriguing!
For today then, I'll remind you where we were with today's characters as it's been a while.
The knife
'Your majesty!" Elizabeth curtseyed and banged her elbow on the back of a nearby chair. "Ow. Damnit. Oh curses, sorry your Kingsh- your Majesty. Sorry. Sorry."
Lord Vileburn burst into laughter, and the King set the platters down with a broad smile on his otherwise tired-looking face as well.
"Please, sit," he said. "Preferably without injuring yourself any further, as people simply won't believe that I didn't order these mishaps to occur. Derby likes to point out that people believe that if I order the air in the room to leave it must. He did once suggest that if I were inclined to learn a little magic I could be most terrifying ruler ever, with just a few weeks of effort."
Elizabeth sank onto a chair, her mouth hanging open in shock, and her eyes widening at the thought of a mage-King taking the throne of Britain again.
"I'm not learning magic," said the King. Then, after a few moments, "Memnith, tell her I'm not learning magic please."
"Elizabeth," said Lord Vileburn. His tone was gentle, and she looked at him. "The King was joking. There are laws and... other strictures... in place."
"The fairing of Charles," she said. "Of course, I should have thought of that immediately. I'm so sorry, your Majesty, it's... it's...."
"It's been a long day for you," said the King. He sat now, and Memnith followed suit a moment later. "Eat, you need the food. I asked Memnith to bring you to meet me, and you may be assured that he was discreet about it."
Elizabeth reached for slices of roast beef: they were still warm, and she folded one neatly and put it into her mouth.
"That means you don't talk about this meeting," said Lord Vileburn. "No onions, Sire?"
"I think she understood that, Memnith. And no, onions do your breath no favours and we both have the Clarion Court this evening."
"Bah," said Memnith. He reached in front of Elizabeth, who shrank back a little in her seat, to help himself to slices of pork and beef. "I'm glad you have a good cook at least."
"I've been told about your appointment," said the King. Elizabeth noted, a little distantly, that he wasn't eating.
"He approved it," mumbled Lord Vileburn, his mouth full of food. He put his hand in front of his mouth.
"I am pleased to have a demonologist," said the King.
"A live one," mumbled Lord Vileburn. The King caught his eye. "Too soon?"
"Dignity was an asset in many ways," said the King. "A little respect, is that so much to ask?"
Lord Vileburn shrugged, and he met the King's gaze as an equal. There was a silence that grew longer, and Elizabeth took more slices of beef to try and ignore the stand-off between the two.
"You had your differences," said the King, and Lord Vileburn nodded. "So let us agree to disagree, as I don't want to spend the whole evening with you sulking that I've ordered you to agree with me."
"If you order it, I will."
"I know," said the King, his voice gentle but firm. "And I'm choosing not to."
"Thank-you, your Majesty." The words weren't quite an apology, but Lord Vileburn inclined his head in that fractional bow he usually gave the King, and a certain amount of tension seemed to dissipate from the room. The King stood up and walked across the room; it wasn't large, but the few seconds it took, with all eyes on him, seemed much longer. At the far wall he turned, and drew a short dagger from a scabbard at his right hip.
"This knife," he said, turning it over and over in his hands, "belonged to Dignity. I am told that it has ritual significance, and two of the three Lords Theological have urged me to destroy it. They believe it is evil."
"And the third?" Lord Vileburn had walked round the table now and was tasting the pots of condiments. He put something yellow on his tongue and started coughing.
"Doesn't know about it, though I doubt their opinion would differ."
"You want me to destroy it for you?" Elizabeth tried as hard as she could to sound confident, but to her own ears her voice sounded thin and scared.
"Not at all," said the King.
"Cranberry?" said Lord Vileburn almost at the same time.
"For the veal," said the King just as Lord Vileburn said, "Sorry."
"The knife was Dignity's," said the King. "I was told that Lord Derby would return quickly from Carcosa, and as my concern grows, the reassurances weaken."
Lord Vileburn paused, a mustard-laden slice of beef in front of his mouth. "Not all of us thought it was a good idea, Sire," he said. "You haven't even got a full consensus of reassurance."
"Indeed," said the King. "So I wish to... hedge my bets. Take this knife. Use it to open a way to Carcosa. Find Lord Derby and see to it that he returns."
"Turn water into wine, spin straw into gold, and get the King in Yellow a job as a babysitter," said Lord Vileburn.
"Memnith."
"Sire, you're asking for the impossible. Again."
"If I do not ask, I will not get."
Greg - I figured you'd notice the late posting :P
Ah, this scene. It's been long enough that I'd forgotten about it. Which just means it was extra pleasing to see you return to it.
I definitely like this king. And the dialogue here is top notch. Intriguing developments, enjoyable characters... yup, sounds like we're back in Derby-land :D
Post a Comment