Previous file.

Narrator:

After that's over...

Blackbird:

Sir Richard. Do you have a mirror?

Richard:

Yes, Evaine, I believe so. [Rummages around his tent. Hands one to her.]

Blackbird: [speaking gently]

Please. Don't call me that. I'm just Blackbird now.

OOOWWW!!!!!

Aww, shit.

There's got to be something we can do about the bruising.

Anne, I've got a job to do. I can't go out like this! It's like ... like if Richard had to go into battle without his armor. This is horrible!

You think further healing might clear the bruising?

Sister Anne: [gently]
I would think an anchor's job would be helped by the bruising

just think of it as a great lead in.

Perhaps Bahamut will look kindly upon your request.

Narrator:
Sister Anne comes over and prays over Blackbird. It helps a great deal. Not perfect, but for the first time since the lights went out, serviceable.

Sir Richard:
Blackbird... Sister Anne and Jhereg told me what had happened while we were waiting for you to awaken. I'm sorry if I've made things difficult, but the cat may be out of the bag as far as your background goes. We always seem to be tripping over one another somehow, don't we?

I'd like a chance to talk to you later, if you have the time. Perhaps before we all go off to dinner with Freidrich?

Blackbird: [as she really focuses on Richard for the first time today, she looks wounded beyond belief]

I've known you too long to be able to hate you easily, Richard. But I am sorely disappointed. I had thought better of you. I had thought we were friends. But I find that the only defense you have for me is that I was once noble. As if the rightness of any action can only be determined through that lens. It is an enlightening experience, to once be treated as nobility, then to pass through the world without that shield about you. It awakens one to the many small cruelties practiced daily in the name of nobility.

We will not "all go off to dinner with Friedrich." You will go off to dinner, and I shall perform for your entertainment. You are the noble. And I am the commoner. I'll collect the coins you throw me and be grateful for your charity.

If you wish to speak to me later, then it is as you will. You have the power to compel me.

Narrator:
There is a brief and fascinating play of emotions on Richard's face. First shock, then hurt, then anger. The result is uncertain; his face winds up being very white and expressionless, his speech calm and with little inflection.

Throughout his speech, Blackbird barely responds, except for a few quiet words that go almost unnoticed against his flood of disapproval. She senses the futility of arguing with him. But her mind churns, rapidly digesting what he says, voicing silent responses.

Sir Richard:
Your penchant for acting and speaking without thought will someday be your death, Evaine.

Blackbird: [unspoken]
I thought about what I just said. If only you would.

Richard:
It was almost your death today. I will now tell you what really happened today, and you will listen.

Blackbird: [unspoken]
This should be educational.

Richard:
Luther spent some considerable time and energy trying to goad Hesketh and I into action, spewing forth low and degrading remarks. This is some game he plays with Hesketh or any other Knight larger than himself -- which is, obviously, every Knight he meets. A man with an enormous insecurity about his height.

Blackbird: [unspoken]

I don't suppose his treatment at the hands of brave men like you and Hesketh has anything to do with the causes of his insecurity. I think I understand Luther better than you ever will, though I hardly know him.

Richard:
His address to you caused me to lose my temper, but Hesketh would have taken action earlier if I hadn't stopped him.

Blackbird: [unspoken]
He said nothing so terrible to me! Isn't it I who am always accused of arrogance and fragile ego? Even were I here as "Lady Evaine" I would not have been so offended. If that is the measure of his "low and degrading remarks" then I stand behind him more than ever.

Richard:
Hesketh's response was childish, but neither dangerous nor destructive.

Blackbird: [unspoken]
Pardon me. How could I ever have been so foolish as to think that coming up at a gallop behind a dwarf, lifting him over your head, swinging him around and throwing him could be considered dangerous or destructive?

Richard:
Your response was childish, dangerous, and destructive.

Blackbird: [unspoken]
It was childish. I openly regret it. I got the point. Hitting the horse was a Bad Idea. Whether it was a worse idea than Hesketh's is not so clear cut in my mind as it is in yours. The motivations were very similar. We both saw behavior that offended us, and took INappropriate steps to protest it. I certainly have been made to regret it more than he. If half the effort was expended on rebuking Hesketh as has been on encouraging me to see the error of my ways, I would be satisfied.

Richard:
The horse, the only truly innocent party, could have been hurt.

Blackbird: [unspoken]
Bullshit. That's an insult to my ability. If I'd wanted to hurt the horse, it *would* be hurt. I didn't intend to hurt it, thus it wasn't.

Richard:
Hesketh and Luther could both have been seriously hurt by the horse's reaction.

Blackbird: [unspoken]
Nobody seemed exceedingly worried about whether Luther could have been injured by being thrown into the creek.

Richard:
You were nearly killed by it, and might well have died if Maia and I hadn't been close enough to heal you.

Blackbird: [unspoken]
I'm sorry if you regret doing it. I owe you for that.

Richard:
Your action was clearly assault, which for Blackbird would be punishable by death.

Blackbird: [unspoken]
You are completely correct. That's the sad part.

Richard:
You cannot run around playing at being Blackbird while behaving like Evaine.

Blackbird: [unspoken]
So I am learning. You have made my position abundantly clear. Weren't you listening? You are the nobleman. I am the commoner. Does it please you?

Richard:
Were you a Knight, you would have been killed instantly for striking a horse. Were you male, Hesketh would probably have attacked you on the spot, which would be the same as death for most people.

Blackbird: [unspoken]
Have you ever stopped to think about the morality of valuing a horse more than a person? So much so that even trivial injury to a horse is rated at the price of a human life?

Richard:
The only way I could keep Hesketh from having you arrested was to threaten him, by insisting that I would have to be your champion in any legal action.

Blackbird: [unspoken, shocked]
You did that?

Thank you.

Richard:
The world will not stop being the way that it is because you or I want it to.

Blackbird: [aloud, but still very quietly, and again lost in the force of Richard's anger]

I have never been afraid to change the circumstances of the world.

Once, I thought you would have said the same.

Narrator:
Richard's speech has steadily gained animation and inflection. It is now clear what his emotional state is; he is in a state of cold rage, colored by a healthy amount of pain. He continues without pause, permitting no interruption to his diatribe.

Sir Richard:
And after all of this, your concern is that I did not challenge Hesketh for suggesting your behavior was more suitable to a thief or cutpurse than a noble or an Anchor, or attack his behavior for your benefit.

Blackbird: [unspoken]
Partly. But you judge me more harshly than I deserve. What really hurt was that you would not support my assertion that Hesketh's assault of Luther was wrong. Not for my benefit. Just because it was wrong. There can be more than one person at fault in any situation.

Richard:
And what would the response of your Guildmaster be to this act of yours, anyway?

Blackbird: [unspoken]
I tremble to think of it. I've never pretended that following the rules was my strong suit. But it's really no concern of yours -- it is merely another way for you to point out how wrong I was.

Yes, Richard. I am often guilty of breaking the rules.

Richard:
As far as I am concerned, you may please yourself this evening. Pardon me for suggesting you might wish to spend some of it with me.

You may remain here until you are well.

Next Richard File

Blackbird: [eyes filling with tears. aloud. still uncharacteristically quiet]

... the many small cruelties committed daily in the name of nobility....

You just confirmed everything I said, Richard.

Narrator:

She begins crying in earnest. Partly from frustration, partly from loss. She senses that this was not just another argument between her and Sir Richard. Something has changed forever, and something has been lost.

The whole thing reminds her of countless incidents from her childhood, the constant reminders that her blood was a tainted mixture of slave stock and outsider. She was always wrong then, too. But now they have the law on their side.

As Richard leaves, he passes a red-haired woman nearly as big as he is. She takes one look at his face as he is leaving and steps out of his way. Well dressed and good looking, but he can't place who she is. Two steps behind her is a man nearly as big as Hesketh. Taller actually, but nowhere near as thick. Wild red hair streams out from under his helmet. The big man nods at Richard and takes up post as guard at the opening to the tent.

When Blackbird finally looks up, Ruth is there.

Ruth: [walks in, carrying a little bag]

Oh, Blackbird!

I'd heard you were hurt. I brought some things.

You are a lot darker than I am, but this should help cover up the bruises...

Narrator:
Blackbird sips the contents of the bottle. The taste is OK. The effects come quickly - her head clears a bit and most of the throbbing goes away. It no longer hurts to concentrate.

Ruth: [not missing a beat]
This may not feel the best as I get some of this on to cover the bruises. I talked to Sir Hesketh and some of the others. Why the knife, Blackbird? That's what most of the fuss is about.

Sister Anne: [sharply]
What was that that you just gave her!

Blackbird: [to Anne]
It was wonderful, Anne, trust me.

Sister Anne:
I trust you -- it is this woman who tries to hide her actions that I do not trust. Again, what did you give her?

Blackbird: [interrupting]
If you trust me, then stop questioning. She is a noblewoman, and may take offense at your insolence. If she wanted to do me harm, she'd have no need to poison me.

Ruth: [eyebrows arch a bit at Blackbird's words]

Blackbird: [to Wolf]

I forgot your advice, Wolf. I should have been singing.

This knife? Why do you ask? Why do you care? If you are one of them, then Hesketh's word is all that matters. The word, the life, the honor, or the dignity of a commoner like me, like Wolf, count very little to a noble.

Ruth: [she didn't get to be where she is by not being able to control her temper - but Blackbird can see that she has just insulted Ruth greatly]

I do care. I called you friend earlier today. That is not without meaning. I would like to know in order to better manage Hesketh. Yes, manage him. He's the easiest person in this camp to manage, or my judge of people is way off. His problem is that he doesn't know which neat category you fit into. His biggest worry is that you are a spy, a member of Waltham's infamous Watch. His distaste for McKitrick's secret police runs very deep.

If you had slapped his horse open handed, He'd have been mortified that you were hurt. The act would have be a reminder that he was stooping to Luther's level of roguish behavior, payment in kind that he'd insulted a women.

But he regards weapons, as do most knights, as his own purvey. That only warriors and outlaws use weapons, because only warriors and outlaws need to use weapons. To him, that's the way it is, or if it isn't, that's that way it should be made.

Narrator:
Blackbird snorts. Obviously she has a difference of opinion on that matter.

Ruth:
Had you used words, you could have chewed him out for as long as you had words to do so - words are the weapons of The Anchor. He'd have offered an apology as his only defense and you could have run him in circles or laid a boon upon him and he'd have likely done it.

That's why all of the fuss about the knife.

One more thing, and I will hear you speak. Please, do not presume to know how much I value Wolf.

Blackbird: [chastened]
I'm very sorry. I've done you a disservice. For an Anchor I can be surprisingly tactless. You are a friend, thank you.

Earlier today, I presumed to know how much you valued Wolf, and I reckoned correctly. I should know better than to second guess myself, especially in anger.

Hesketh is so stupid. I left the Watch because I am the worst possible spy. I can go nowhere without people, even ones as dim as Hesketh, saying "She is the daughter of Count San Sebastian. Perhaps she is a spy sent among us." Even though I am innocent, I am always the first to be suspected and the first at risk, just because of my birth. My father is not stupid. If there were a spy here -- and I have no idea, I no longer discuss such things with him -- it would be somebody nobody would ever suspect. He let me try once, out of love for his daughter, and I learned enough from the failure never to risk shaming him like that again.

As for my use of a knife -- I know it is not the place for an Anchor to have opinions on such things, but you have caught me in a failure. It is a private opinion, as long as I an an Anchor.

I know how nobles feel about commoners using weapons. I was one once. Now I now how commoners feel about their weapons. Commoners are not yet barred from carrying weapons. The day they can not bear even their knives in public, it will be necessary for them to take up swords to win back the right in war.

But that's neither here nor there. This whole myth of an attack on his person is a farce. You wanted the story. I'll start with the knife.

Narrator:
As she lets the Anchor persona take over, she is finally able to allow herself to be amused by the situation. She tells the tale with practiced ease and engaging animation.

Blackbird:
Why the knife? Because cold steel stings worse against a horse's ass! In truth, a horse's ass is all I remember attacking.

Though I can see how one might confuse Hesketh with such a thing.

God, what a great buffoon he is! I tell you, Ruth, it is a good thing I only used the flat of my blade against his horse's rump. If I'd stuck Hesketh I wager the force of all that hot air and inflated ego escaping would have propelled him halfway to Pendleton by now!

I was making my way through the camps when I noticed Sir Richard and Jhereg in the company of two I didn't know -- Sir Hesketh and Sir Luther. Sir Luther offered to buy me a drink in a manner which I found amusing, but which seemed to offend Sir Richard and Sir Hesketh greatly. Sir Richard rebuked Sir Luther for speaking to a "noble lady" in such a manner -- he knew not my current station, and I could see that tempers were rising on both sides. I attempted to diffuse the situation by simply accepting Sir Luther's offer, and praising him for being the first to think to make it.

As we departed, Sir Luther turned and asked if they others cared to join us -- [smirks] or if they preferred to stand there drooling. [laughs] In truth, they were! [peeved look] But they have absolutely *no* sense of humor and an ego nearly as sensitive as a Drow's eyes to sunlight.

While Luther and I had our backs turned, Hesketh thundered up on his horse, shouting a challenge to Luther at such a distance as gave Luther no time to react. He lifted Luther bodily from the ground, nearly snatching him right off my arm, whirled him about in the air and threw him into the creek.

I thought then, and still do, that this was brutish behavior befitting a common hoodlum, and I was overcome with the desire to make Hesketh have cause to regret his actions. I ran up behind the horse and struck it with the flat of my knife. You know the rest -- it is I who have cause to regret my actions, not Hesketh.

Chief among my regrets is that I did not devise a more effective method of taking that cowardly blowhard down a few pegs. Knife or no knife, his actions remain reprehensible, and he conveniently managed to avoid answering for that.

The man is pitiful in my eyes for threatening to have me tried for "attacking" him. [looks to Wolf] My people -- my father's people -- are much like the Highlanders. If an injustice has been done, we feel no need to hide behind laws, to let others defend our honor. It is a sign of weakness, of fear, when a man will not directly face his opponent. It is also a sign of weakness when a man is not strong enough to admit he is wrong. The image of that great giant of a man threatening me with a trial over this perceived damage to his ego is almost too pitiful to bear. He is beneath contempt. As are the others who tolerated his behavior.

(So, are you going to add another knight to your hit list? At this rate, you'll be taking on the entire realm in no time. Quite an accomplishment.)

I can't stand the way he acted and was allowed to act. It was intolerable.

(Yet Luther seems not over-concerned. Could your behavior be colored by other events Hesketh had no hand in?)

Luther is too kind. Too willing to forgive.

(Kind of reminds me of Tiberious. Now, we know you have no tendency to take things too seriously. And we know you have never acted in a manner you later thought unbecoming and regretted)

And I have learned to apologize.

(Not easily. Perhaps Hesketh too would apologize, if you approached him with the finesse you lay claim to, instead of like a wildcat on the attack)

How can I approach him? I doubt he will even consent to speak to me after what has passed between us.

(You're resourceful. You'll think of something.)

OK, I'll give it a try. But I'm *still* mad at Jhereg and Richard.

(An acceptable compromise, for now. We'll work on that later)

Mother...

Sorry. I was lost in thought.

Perhaps it is time for me to show that I am not as bad as everyone thinks I am. And perhaps he is a better man than I give him credit for. We could both use a second chance, when neither of us are confined by anger and circumstance. I just need to think of a way it can be done.

Ruth: [talking about Hesketh]
Oh, well that should be easy for you. Tonight, sing a song about two naughty boys whose mother tries to chastise them. Big boys need a strong sting to make them mind or some other such, and how their mother gets rebuked for beating her children. Then let him know that all the knife was for was so that a *little* Anchor *woman* could get her point across with sufficient sting. Be as sincere as you can - any hint of treachery will send him through the roof. But a heartfelt plea will have him eating sugar from your hand or whatever you want him to do. He can actually be quite charming. They say he's divine on a dance floor.

I've lead an army of common men. Men who fought for their homes. Look around- at the Royals I mean. In this duchy, order is kept by the common men, men who will not abide banditry or evil in their homelands, now that they have freed themselves from it. Any man can join, so long as he is willing to place the welfare of his duchy before his own. Not all nobles are like all of the other nobles.

Next Blackbird, Anne and Luther file.