Knowing how she tended to get with books, Sylvana promised herself not to crack Ender's Game until they were on the shuttle. Besides, if this book was as good as its condition warranted, she probably would read it straight through. Unthinking, she wandered the halls of the palace, occasionally resting her hand on Fate's dome, soon off in her own world.
As did often happen, her imagination ran away with her. It was her palace she wandered through, her own dark corridors. She was an elven princess caught and held captive by a dark lord wanting to take over her kingdom. The cool of the flagstone corridor crept through her feet to strengthen her image. She held her head high, and took long, silent, fluid strides. Her snug t-shirt and flowing skirts transformed, in her mind, to an emerald flowing gown, and a crown of star-like gems rested on her brow. Fate was a giant hound guardian, a friend when she was compliant, but fearsome enemy should she try to escape. She held the book close to herself, as though it were a tome of magick, as though it would ward off the evil oppressing her, the princess of this realm.
Lost in thought, Lord Thayer wished only to go somewhere no one could find him. Somewhere he could be free of his station, even if only for a little while. Most often, his wont was to go to the high tower's top, but that sanctuary was known by some, and could not always be trusted to keep him isolated from the nobles.
My Dear, Sweet, Beloved Becki. Why could I not be quick enough to see you off? Will I never catch up to you ever again? He sighed. That morning had set his tone for the day, and that tone matched the dim hallways in the nearly forgotten areas of the palace.
He turned a corner and ran into someone. She lost her balance, and fell to the floor. "I beg your pardon, I didn't see you." He held a hand down to help her up, "Are you all right?"
Head held high, eyes half closed, she wove the story in her mind, and saw things as though she were truly there. Her mouth moved silently, forming words she did not know, words of a half forgotten language, but for the songs sung in the most secret places.
"I will never bow to captivity, in my mind I am kept free. You will never win this, Dark Lord, you will fail, and my people shall be triumphant."
Sylvana smiled to herself as she let her eyes drift shut a moment, imagining what the lilting, seemingly made-up words she spoke could truly mean. Suddenly, with a jolt, she was torn from her fae world and tossed jarringly to the cold flagstone floor.
"I beg your pardon, I didn't see you," a kind voice said as a hand fell down to her view to help her up. "Are you all right?"
She nodded, "Yes, just a bit knocked about," she took the proffered hand and stood. She looked up at the handsome man before her, about an inch and a half short of her height, but with a very noble bearing, and concerned eyes.
"You are certain?" he asked.
Sylvana nodded, then suddenly put name to the man before her. He was the same as was pictured on the flyer that had led her and Arrek to come to Mendellia in the first place. Quickly, she stepped back and curtsied prettily and lowered her eyes, "I beg your pardon, Lord Atner, I didn't know you."
He sighed, and sketched a quick bow in habitual return. Then he shook his head, a shadow of frustration flickering in his eyes. "Please, just Thayer. I am so weary of the constant formality."
Sylvana stood fully then, and looked him in the eye. She could tell the weight of his kingdom was heavy on his shoulders. "I'm sorry - I just, I've never met royalty before."
"True royalty is just like everyone else, Miss - only more so," he responded with a slight smile.
"I will try to remember that," the smile tugged at her lips as she spoke. "If nothing else, it is a good saying."
Thayer quirked an eyebrow. The strange young woman who, when she first began speaking, had spoken with a North-American sort of accent, was suddenly speaking with a Mendellian one. Rather odd, he thought, but if she was one of the new agents, it was a talent to be lauded. "May I have the honour of your acquaintance, Miss. . . ?"
"Oh, I am sorry," Sylvana's blush would have betrayed her had it not been so dim. "Sylvana Lorrdain, I'm a new agent with Terra Group."
"I thought as much; welcome to Mendellia. What chased you to these dark corridors alone?" When he heard the droid he hadn't noticed before blatt indignantly as it rolled into view beside her, he amended, "With an astromech."
"My imagination?"
He chuckled, the way she bit her lip showed her nervousness. "You have an imagination?" he asked. When she nodded he smiled sardonically, "Well, I cannot allow that. Imaginations are outlawed in Mendellia."
Sylvana's eyes widened in shock. "Oh," she said in a very small voice.
Thayer kept his face straight for a few more moments before he laughed easily. Sylvana stared a moment before she began to laugh as well, "That is a very mean joke, Milord Thayer," she shook her head.
"Just Thayer, remember that?" She nodded. "Good. And yes, it was, but at least we both got a laugh."
"Yes. . . Thayer," she nodded.
"I've noticed you have a rather interesting form of pre-mission stress reduction. Squeaky aliens are probably something that haven't been brought up for that use before. I applaud your unique tactic."
She blushed again, "Thank you." She thought a moment. Stress reduction, I bet this man has a lot of stress to reduce. "If you like, you may have mine, I don't think I will need it where we are going."
He quirked an eyebrow a moment, "Interesting thought. Though I am afraid that I don't have anyone to 'attack', as it were."
Sylvana nodded, "I'm sorry. If I think of something, I will let you know." She stepped back and inclined her head respectfully. "I will let you be, certainly you have no need for me to be bothering you."
He almost asked her to stay - it was nice having a conversation with someone who had such a seemingly innocent outlook on life. "Perhaps we shall meet again, Miss Sylvana."
She grinned then and winked conspiratory, "I'd bet cash money." With that, she turned back in the direction she'd come, the droid following close behind.
Thayer sighed and leaned his head against the wall. But all I really want is you, Becki. Come home quickly, my Truest Love.
Sylvana, with a little snooping, soon found out where Thayer's office was. She then went to her room, and grabbed the squeaky alien. Silently, she let herself into the empty office, and propped the alien in a chair. She found a bit of stationery and quickly penned a note before going back to her room to finish getting ready to leave.
After making a near complete circut of the unused portions of the palace, Thayer made his way back to his office and the heaviness that awaited him. I wish I could take a day off, if only once in a while, he thought to himself as he entered his office.
He was just about to sit down when he noticed a green alien seated in his chair. There was a note sitting across its lap. With a raised eyebrow of curiosity, he picked up the note and read it.
"I know you said you don't have anyone you can 'attack', but I beg to differ. I will not be allowed to take Fate with me, and he'll probably get bored while I'm gone. I also noticed Becki's black and red astromech had been following you at a distance, though you may not have seen it yourself. Fate's already agreed to being "wheeped" by yourself, and I'm sure Kitten will as well. If nothing else, even a pillar could suffice. Enjoy!"
He shook his head, the note hadn't been signed, but he knew whom it was from. He picked up the alien and, to test the girl's hypothesis, he snuck over to the doorway. Cracking it open, sure enough, the black and red droid, apparently called 'Kitten', was standy sentry. Did Becki tell you to look out for me? he wondered.
He whipped open the door, *wheeped* Kitten, and then shut the door again before the droid knew what happened. Surprised tootling floated through the door to him, and he smiled.
Thayer set the green squeaky alien on the shelf beside his desk and with a sigh, he settled down to his work.