Previous Blackbird File

Previous Richard file.

After leaving Rojo, she goes searching for Sir Richard. It is well into late morning. She goes to his pavilion, thinking that either he is there, or someone there will know where he is. She finds Richard sitting behind his tent, out of the traffic area, tossing crusts of bread to a largish group of birds. As she approaches, some of the birds scatter and he turns about, alert and suprised.

Blackbird: [shyly]

Good morning, Sire. If this is not a good time, please say so. I hoped we could share some time together -- I know last night's news was hard for you. And I hoped I could in some way compensate for the distress I caused you yesterday by my rash words. You already have suffered enough and it shames me to have added to your burdens at such a bad time.

Narrator:

As she speaks, she can literally see tension draining from him. His shoulders resume a more normal position, his face melts to an expression of fatigue.

Sir Richard: [quietly]

You know, Blackbird, you never cease to surprise me. You might think that as long as we have known each other, I might have learned to accept your first reactions. No. It seems that I may spend the rest of my life gaining enough wisdom to understand you. I am sorry as well, more sorry than I can possibly tell you. I don't know what it is about the two of us that we always have to be so sudden with one another.

Please, pull up a tuft and join me. There's some more bread in that bag there if you like. I'm just hiding back here, waiting for something to happen to give some meaning to this voyage into the hinterlands.

Narrator:

He stands and shifts a bit to one side. As he does, she notices two things: he is favoring his left leg and the banner of Arundel is sitting on the ground next to him.

Blackbird:

Sire, what did you do to your leg?

Sir Richard: [chuckling]

I was sparring with your friend Luther last night. It was dark and we'd been drinking, so I didn't do quite as good a job parrying as my leg would have liked. Just as well he was swinging and not thrusting. Look, would you drop the "sire"? Not even my guardsmen call me that in private, and you need never be so formal unless you are working.

Well, actually, you don't need to do it even then anymore. As of today, I'm no longer Baron of Arundel or even a lord.

Narrator:

On the verge of commenting on his relaxed mood, this stops Blackbird cold. She stares at Richard, "what" written on her lovely dark features.

Sir Richard:

Custom. Andrew is Duke now, and by custom his heir is Baron of Arundel. So I've formally renounced the title. And since it looks like I might be moving to Lethbridge for a few years, I really can't accept any title Andrew might offer in compensation. So I'm just Knight Commander of the Helm now.

Might be nice to not have to do all that paperwork anymore. Still, I'll miss my garden and Stanley Hall. I've loved that house, its woodwork, iron, stained glass windows... well, ever since I can remember. It will be hard to leave it.

Narrator:
Blackbird sits down, spreading her skirt neatly around her, and Richard seats himself again to join her.

Blackbird: [softly]
I had a home once that made me feel like you feel. Not the palace. It was home, but it was never really *mine.* There was a special place, almost like a little fairy castle father used to take me to when I was young. Orgonon. It is gone now.

But the people are still around. You have a family. Wherever you take them will soon seem like home.

Lack of title and lands doesn't diminish you in the eyes of your friends.

I think I could find it in my heart to keep associating with you even if you became a commoner -- [mock serious, "high brow" tone] discreetly, of course.

I think you may indeed find that you enjoy the change. A dramatic change in one's life is good every now and then. Stirs the blood. I have enjoyed my change, even though I originally did it as a penance. It doesn't seem that way now.

I don't know if everything happens for a reason like some people say. But I'm sure that everything that happens brings an opportunity with it. One need but grasp it. This "voyage into the hinterlands" for instance. Why are we all here? A lot has happened to me in the past couple days. None of it has anything to do with cursed castles., but I have nothing to complain about.

I don't think Jhereg's castle would hold much interest for you -- not enough to bring you all the way out here with this bunch of bored dilettantes. So, perversely, there may be something about it that is important to you. What do you think?

Sir Richard: [seriously]
You're right, I'm not too interested in either Jhereg or his castle. I'm here looking after my family. When Glorianna decided to head off into the hinterlands in secret, I decided I'd better find out what was up. I didn't know Tabytha was here until I arrived in McMannon. It was a fool's errand, I suppose. Glori left in secret because there was something she didn't want to tell me, Elisabeth came to visit George's grave and to try a change of venue, Taby is here getting some space from Reg. I thought I'd stop and inspect the Chapterhouse while I was here. I probably won't have time, now, although I imagine that someone from there will come here looking for me with this news soon.

Actually, I'm glad you're here. The last time she had a premonition, you wound up saving my life.

Narrator:
Both are silent for a moment, remembering Miranda.

Sir Richard:
That's why Glori is here, and I'm just tagging along. Or was. Now I'm hiding from my own problems. Pretty pathetic, eh?

Blackbird: [leans over and puts her hand on his]

What you call "hiding from your problems" would test the courage of many a brave man, my Richard. I don't think you at all understand the meaning of the phrase. You are the bravest, most honorable man I know.

And in spite of those faults, I have faith in you. But being up there, standing tall and shining with Bahamut's own Truth must wear on a man.

Don't fault yourself for coming down where I am -- where it is dark and soft and warm. Even you can't spend every day trying to save the world, or even meeting your responsibilities. Give yourself the gift of at least the rare occasion when you can be weak without feeling guilty.

Narrator:

Richard gets a very odd expression on his face, a cross between somber and surprised. His eyes are moist and, after a moment, Blackbird realizes that he is crying. He speaks with a quiet, normal voice but his face retains its odd expression, tears rolling down his cheeks. The effect is somewhat disconcerting. Perhaps more disconcerting is the small group of birds that has gathered around the little grass hummock. Some chirping, some quiet, some hopping nervously -- but Blackbird has the distinct impression that they are somehow listening.

Sir Richard:
Thank you. I think I reached the ragged edge when I discovered that my daughter is deaf-mute. That's why I'm considering moving to Lethbridge. Harold and Judith are in a unique position to help with Allison, and the foundation might be useful, too.

Narrator:
A bird hops onto Richard's leg and chirps. Richard smiles slightly and absently feeds it a piece of bread, which it devours swiftly before chirping for more. Richard's expression changes slightly and the bird stops chirping insistently, but remains perched on his leg. Richard tosses the rest of the chunk into the group, and the bird flutters after it.

Sir Richard:
Cheeky little fellow. Not too many birds understand sharing, but most aren't quite this persistent.

So what is it that you are so stoically not complaining about?

Blackbird: [looks disconcerted for an instant. speaking a little too lightly]

Did I say that? I didn't mean to. I do not have any complaints. I just meant that my very identity -- Blackbird -- is one rather extravagant attempt to run from my problems. I realize that.

I'm still running, still avoiding. I've left so much chaos in my wake I'm afraid it will eat me if I slow down. But I'm happier than I've been in a long time. I was meant to be an Anchor.

Sir Richard: [smiling gently]
You sound like me, now. Tell me, old friend, if being an Anchor is the right life for you, and if you are happy doing it, and it is a position of good standing that brings no shame on your house, why is it a job for Blackbird and not Evaine? I don't know what has been happening with you since Harold's wedding, but it seems to me that most of your problems have always stemmed from your determination to force yourself into a role that was wrong for you. Now that you have made a choice, what have you to run from?

Blackbird: [smiles]

Once upon a time in the land of the gods, there was a warrior on the edge of a battlefield. His lance was shattered, his sword was broken, and he had only one arrow left for his bow.

An enemy knight broke free of the battle and charged toward the warrior. With fear in his heart, he took that last arrow, knocked it and sighted carefully at the advancing knight. He knew he had only one chance -- when this arrow was gone he would be defenseless.

He let the arrow fly, but it did not stop the knight. The knight only crouched lower in his saddle, dropped the point of his lance to aim at the unfortunate warrior and charged on seemingly faster than before.

The warrior wheeled his mount and spurred it forward, sure that any moment he would feel the point of the knight's lance pierce his back. Away form the battlefield he galloped. He could hear the pounding hooves of his enemies horse, and imagined he could almost feel the beasts hot breath on his back. Faster and faster he urged his own mount, but he gained no ground. Now and again he would peer back to see the knight still behind him, deadly lance still lowered.

I know the story comes from the land of the gods because they say the warrior rode on at a gallop long after any normal horse would have died, its heart burst. In fact, the ride stretched on into days, weeks and even years, with the ever-terrified warrior tearing across the earth with the knight at his back. On and on he went, afraid to slow down or stop lest the knight catch him and run him through.

It is said they ran to the edge of the world any beyond. And it was out there in the dark beyond the world that the warrior finally gave up. He had had too many years of death breathing at his neck. Feeling only weariness, he finally reined in his loyal horse. He tightened his shoulders where he expected to feel the lance run him through.

But instead, he heard the knight's horse slow behind his. When he stopped, it stopped. He turned his mount toward the knight, sitting low in the saddle, and took the first good look at his enemy since the day, years ago, when he had fired the arrow. The sight drove him to madness.

In his enemy's armor was nothing but a skeleton. The knight was killed by the warrior's arrow, but sat so securely on his mount that even in death he did not fall. The horse had only been following the warrior's own mount out of equine stupidity for all these years. He could have stopped at any time.

So, Richard, do not tell me I have nothing to run from. I do not want to know. I might go mad.

Sir Richard: [Now grasping Blackbird's hand]

I have no idea what most of the things weighing upon your conscience are. It would be arrogant of me to belittle your problems that way. It's the change in name which concerns me. One thing you learn being a statesman is the difference between public and private perceptions. As a bard, you take on different roles as the tale and audience require. A name is another matter. It is either a cover or a title for a person other than yourself whom you are playing. The name changes say that Evaine was a role and you are Blackbird, or that Blackbird is a temporary thing for you, or that you have simply cut yourself adrift from your past. But you say this is you, the life you were born for.

Look, Blackbird, I'll call you Frederick if you like. I'm just asking you what the symbols "Evaine" and "Blackbird" mean to you. Which is you, and do you hold your past in such regard as to wish to separate yourself from it? Was there truly so little of value to Evaine's life? Call me sentimental, but despite the many differences we had, I was always rather fond of her. I'd like to know that the person here with me now had learned enough from Evaine to honor her life and acknowledge it as part of herself.

Blackbird:

You can continue to think of me as Evaine if that pleases you. I haven't really renounced that part of myself. Just ... distanced myself from it. To give myself a time to grow in other ways. I love my father, and I am proud of that name. I hope in the future I will feel more comfortable -- more worthy -- of bearing it.

Perhaps Evaine and Blackbird are *both* only roles, and in time I will assume another. I don't know. I do not know who Avila San Sebastian's little girl really is, or who she will become.

If my changed name throws a little disorder into peoples' perceptions of me, then it is doing its job. I crave chaos, even as Glori does.

Sir Richard: [Looking slightly surprised and perplexed]

Chaos? Excitement, I understand... but do you really crave chaos? I wouldn't have thought so...

Blackbird: [grins]
Poetic license. I *am* an Anchor, Richard. You cannot afford to be grimly literalistic with me. This one was not *too* far from the truth, though...

Richard:

Well, anyway, I think we may be seeing and saying the same things in different ways. I've been accused of holding myself to impossible standards in the past, so I may not be the right one to suggest your standards for your family name are a bit unreasonable. Just think about it. Nobody really knows what we will be a decade from now. I've spent a long time worrying about it and I've decided it's pointless. Maybe not as pointless as chasing after relatives,

[wry smile]

but I've always been given to odd commitments of that sort. I'm just odd.

So what have you been doing for the last year?

Narrator:
They chat for a while about nothing of great consequence. A little later in the conversation...

Blackbird:
This "sparring" you did with Luther. It was not anything serious was it? It seemed that you and he were not on the best of terms. I'm unaccountably fond of him, as I am of you.

I also have a weakness for scruffy stray animals. I hope neither of you will hurt the other in some senseless contest. Even if he deserves it. I think Luther could turn out just fine with a little soft handling.

Sir Richard:
Well, I agree. He's not a bad fellow, just has a chip on his shoulder the size of a small mountain. No, it was nothing serious. He came upon me after I stalked out of the party. We talked, drank, and then he suggested we blow off some steam. Fencing in the dark with a short man is dangerous to your legs.

I bet he's still rubbing his chest, though. It was kind of him, really, and I appreciate it.

Narrator:
Blackbird looks pleasantly surprised and another moment of companionable silence ensues.

Blackbird:

Was I mistaken last night, or did I detect some considerable amount of distaste for Brandon d'Harrogate on your part? Seemingly more than would be warranted by the fact that Glori spent most of the evening in his lap.

Sir Richard: [snorts]
I have no use for human wolves, Blackbird. And while ol' Fred seems like just an "honest" philanderer, there is something oily and evil about that son of a Marquis. Maybe it's just his face, or maybe it's just that I was in such a bad mood, but he struck me... well, I kept wanting to bury my fist in his face. Is he married, by chance? For that matter, what can you tell me about him? Glori seems to have developed a desire to reform men.

Blackbird: [not sounding distressed at all]

Why, Richard, it rather distresses me to hear you speak that way about my fiancé. I'm not sure where to begin....

Narrator:
The effect of this statement is electric. The weariness seems to fall away from Richard, washed off in an adrenaline rush. Even the birds suddenly become louder and more active. Richard's mouth opens and closes before he speaks.

Sir Richard:

There is nothing you could possibly have said that would have surprised me more. What on earth are you talking about? I can't see you being a "noble's lady" or a reformer of lost souls. Engaged??! What... how... WHY?

Blackbird: [experiencing a sudden rush of pleasure]

God, I *love* it when I make him gape!

What do you mean you can't see me as a noble's lady? What is that supposed to mean? Is my blood not blue enough for you?

Sir Richard: [apologetically]

I did not mean it like that. I meant that I cannot see you giving up your independence. You would be sadly ill-used as Brandon's ornamental fixture.

Blackbird: [looking mollified]

My independence is part of the deal. I may even do him the favor of appearing ornamental on occasion. He gets me as a wife. I get to remain an Anchor, to travel as I please, to hold a title of high nobility, and receive his love and his sworn oath of fidelity without having to give him my own fidelity, or even my love.

And there are other, more important reasons. It was a tough offer to refuse.

Are you not going to congratulate me?

Sir Richard: [Still looking very surprised, but also very grave]

I.... I will come and dance at your wedding if you wish, but I'm not sure I can congratulate you. I hope it works for you, Blackbird, I really do. I'm no stranger to "practical" marriages, but it's one thing about nobility that I have always hated. As much of a romantic as you are, I would never have expected you to marry except from the heart. I think... no, I feel somehow that this is wrong, I can't explain. But I know you too well to argue with you, and I don't want to depress you or ruin this nice quiet talk. I wish you joy and happiness, and I hope all my vague misgivings will prove to be ill-founded. If not, you know you are always welcome in.... well, wherever it is I happen to be, there will always be shelter and a friendly face.

Blackbird: [questioningly]

You really think I'm a romantic?

... I ... I haven't actually said yes yet. I guess I'm really not *that* sure about all this ... you really think it would be a mistake?

There are all sorts of hidden reasons for this marriage. His reasons and mine. I honestly don't know anymore if I love him or hate him. He did something terrible once, but it was long ago and he almost makes me believe he's changed. He has offered me everything he has -- even his life more than once. I nearly took it. He may still lose his life, though I think it will not be because of me. All the facts say I hold him in the palm of my hand, but I am afraid he is trying to trap me somehow. He's nothing like what I expected after all these years.

Narrator:
Richard purses his lips and looks uncomfortable.

Sir Richard:

The only easy question you asked me is whether I think you are a romantic. Yes, I think of you that way. To me, you have always been a quixotic mix of brutal reality and romantic idealism, usually juxtaposed in the exact opposite order of what I would expect. I don't mean this to sound critical, but I think it takes a person who is a romantic at heart to set the kinds of goals you have, renounce a name... or to become a Paladin, for that matter. I've always thought your life would be a lot happier if you could just decide to be either pragmatic or romantic and have done with it. I know mine would.

Blackbird:
I do not think I could bring myself to give up either aspect. I will simply have to suffer.

Richard:
Giving advice like this to friends is a hard thing. The asking implies that you will listen to the answer, and I cannot know the right course any more than you. People do change, Blackbird. I believe that, I have seen it, and I have built my life around it. But... people like that rarely do change. It seems to be more of a basic character flaw than a lack of values. And when a person devotes so much of their energies towards deceit, it's hard to tell the difference between honest reformation and having become a better liar. I've never met Brandon before. I have no idea who his friends are, or how he behaves at home, or what this horrible thing is that happened between the two of you that impressed you enough to want to kill him. I think if I were you, I'd move very slowly. Use the skills you learned from your father's people and gather some information. Take the time you need to be as sure as you can. And...

Narrator:
Richard pauses, looking more and more uncomfortable.

Blackbird:

What, Richard?

Sir Richard:

For people like you and I, I believe there is great danger in denying ourselves. Marrying for duty or position or honor, avoiding the reality of our own natures. I am not a man who could ever be happy with a public marriage and a private love, and I don't think you would be happy with that, either. I feel it would be a mistake for you to marry for reasons other than love, a mistake that might hurt you deeply in the years to come. And marrying the son of a Marquis... well, he would be a hard man to put off if the marriage were a disaster. It's just my opinion, I may be out-of-line. Maybe no-one can ever be certain, but try as hard as you can.

Blackbird:

I will listen to your advice, Richard. It is good advice.

Sir Richard: [smiling]

Thanks. I spend a lot of time giving advice these days. It's easier than church politics, prophecies, or trying to resolve my personal problems. And it seems to help put life into perspective. It reminds me of all the good things in life.

Ummmm.... look, things may get pretty rough in the next year. There may well be a schism in the Church, depending on how McKittrick's brother handles Agnes' refutation. Chesterton and Lethbridge may wind up under interdict, and Devonshire could be plunged into civil war. And who knows what will happen if Duke Michael dies and his son the Priest of the Claw becomes Duke? I'd be surprised if they hadn't discussed that possibility in Harkan Abbey already. It's possible that politics could bring the Duke and the Helm into opposition, which might bring trouble between the order and your father. I hope it doesn't happen. Just remember -- politics and religion aside, I'm your friend, and the Duke's, and I have nothing but respect for your father. If it should come to the worst, could you bear my words to them?

Blackbird:

Officially, as an Anchor, I do not care one way or another. If you have a message to send, I will carry it for a price. Otherwise, I shall spread such tidings as I have when it is convenient for me to be in that locale.

Unofficially

[voice goes soft]

... I thank you, and I know my father will thank you.

Bahamut watch over you, Richard. And if you could do me the favor, give Brandon the benefit of the doubt. I think you will see a lot of me in him. Good day.

[starts to turn away, then impulsively turns back and gives Richard a very soft kiss on the mouth, one hand resting against his cheek. The sweet scent of her fills his nostrils very briefly. She meets his eyes for a moment; there is something warm and dark in hers. She turns away again just as abruptly and walks off]

---

Next Blackbird file (a few days later)

Next Richard file (also a few days later).