Choose

New Poll: Shoes

Jun 18, 2010 2 Comments

Footsteps approach! Whose feet are in the shoes so ominously clattering up the hallway?

Only you can decide! (Choose Up To Two)

15. Notch

Jun 18, 2010 7 Comments

Remora sat in the corner of the tiny room and eyed at the open door the way a fish might eye a circling shark.

To her right was a blank wall. To her left, a half dozen brass cages held captive Shonfra. Destined, she presumed, to be sold to rich gentryfolk as pets. Quietly, they sat in their cages and watched her with wide, curious eyes.

In front, the door to her tiny metal prison stood wide open, waiting.

Between herself and the door, a spotted cat-dresl lounged on a chair. One of his ears was notched and half the whiskers on one side of his face were shorn. For the last fifteen minutes, he had been asleep.

She was, at least, reasonably certain he was asleep. His eyes were closed, his tail motionless, and his furred cheek twitched periodically.

If she truly believed he was asleep, why was she sitting, back pressed against the opposite wall, trying to decide what to do?

She bit her lip. Lady Remora Windgates Price would not hesitate. Right now, however, she felt a bit more like little Remmy Price. Only this time, her uncle would not appear to rescue her.

She reviewed what she knew.

She was on a ship. Of that, she had no doubts whatsoever. Even if the gentle, rocking motion of her prison hadn’t been an immediate giveaway, her captors hadn’t even bothered to knock her out or blindfold her for her kidnapping.

At first, she’d gloated, certain that they underestimated her. She memorized every second of the walk from that dirty alleyway to the ship that held her. A swan class airship, sleek and flashy and incredibly expensive. Not many of those around. Her avid brown eyes devoured every detail of the room she was tossed in – the blank walls, adorned only with cages of chattering Shonfra, the featureless metal floors which clattered noisily with every booted footstep she made, the single hatch door with its featureless inner shell.

The gloating had rapidly given way to concern. She was under constant guard – a rotating shift of Dresl that relieved each other of duty every two hours like clockwork.

She verbally berated them all, lashing out at them with the most inventive insults she could devise. When that had no effect, she began to recite the Ardelan Encyclopedia from memory, with special emphasis on the stupidity of animals.

It did no use. She had time only to see the barest hints of irritation on her guards before they were relieved by a fresh Dresl and she’d have to start all over again.

This particular guard, the cat she had taken to calling Notch, had taken a different tactic. Instead of standing just inside or outside the shut door, he brought a chair into the room and left the door open. Turning the chair backwards, he crossed his arms over the chair’s back, then…watched her.

Her jibes and insults had no effect on Notch. Reciting the exact medical technique used to castrate a male cat elicited only a yawn.

Those eyes – those creepy, intent green eyes – unnerved her.

Sometime after she’d fallen silent, he had dropped his head to his crossed hands, closed his eyes, and began to sleep.

At least, she was fairly certain he was asleep.

Take a chance? Go for the door? If that was not Notch’s intent, why leave it open? Surely it was a trap.

Notch grunted and shifted position, settling his chin more comfortably in his arms.

An even, rattling wheeze rose from between his ears.

Snoring. Her guard was snoring.

She had to try. She had nothing to work with in that cell, nothing at all. She might actually make it all the way to the surface without being captured, but even if all she managed was to get thrown into a different room, it would be an improvement. Hidden between the whalebone of her corset, her cogsmithing tools stood in tidy columns. They did her no good at all without a starting place. Even the tiniest gadget would be something to work with. She cursed the box of disguised jewelry stashed beneath her bunk aboard the Miraj. Any of a dozen necklaces, earrings, or bracelets would have been enough.

The snoring grew louder and remained perfectly even.

She may never get another chance.

Taking a deep breath, she stood, eyes affixed to Notch’s relaxed form. He gave not so much as a single whisker twitch.

She closed her eyes and counted to three, then pushed off against the wall, thrusting herself at the open doorway.

A flash of gold fur. Her breath whooshed out of her as something slammed into her stomach and flung her back against the far wall. Her cheek burned.

She blinked.

Notch lounged on the chair, tail dancing merrily behind him. His wide green eyes watched her face with undisguised amusement.

She lifted a hand to her burning cheek and it came away wet. She was bleeding.

Notch lifted one hand and showed her his extended claws. Two of them were tipped in red. His eyes still on hers, Notch slowly and deliberately drew his sandpaper tongue against the stained tips.

Horrified, she drew away. Notch dropped his chin back to his crossed arms and began the odd, huffing cough that she associated with cat-dresl laughter.

She hadn’t even seen him move from the chair, yet he threw her backward, scratched her cheek, and then returned to his previous position on the chair. His sleep had been entirely feigned. The open door had, indeed, been a trap.

That, Remora decided acidly, was most definitely cheating. She drew herself up and glared at him with all her might. He lifted his head, cocking it to the side at the sight.

“You,” Remora said, “set me up. I shall be speaking with your leader about your boorish behavior. What sort of kidnapping is this, anyway? It’s rubbish, and your entire outfit is embarrassingly amateur. You haven’t even told me yet why I’ve been taken or what your demands are. Do you really believe your little mind games or your savagery are going to positively impact your outcome? I demand to speak to your leader!”

The huffing, barking laughter began again.

Remora drew herself to her full height, though her midsection still felt hollow and pained where he had hit her. “I am not joking.”

Notch stood and bowed to her, sarcasm vibrating from every splotchy rosette on his coat. His hands signed something at her and she shook her head irritably.

“I cannot understand a thing you are saying. I demand to speak to your leader. Surely there is someone aboard who can speak Common.”

Notch paused, then pointed at her, waiting.

“What, are we pantomiming?” She sighed. “Very well. Me. Something about me.”

He nodded, then lifted the still-pointing finger and laid it horizontally against his throat, jerking his arm in a very familiar gesture.

Remora’s eyes widened. “Dead? Me, dead? Don’t be ridiculous, Notch.”

The Dresl’s notched ear twitched once as she said his nickname. She hoped he found it irritating. He repeated the gestures.

She waved an impatient hand in his direction. “Yes, yes, you’ve been perfectly clear. Either your outfit is even more slipshod than I feared, or you are quite mistaken. One doesn’t kidnap an assassination victim. One simply assassinates them. If I was to be killed, it would have been done by now. Why bother keeping me alive?”

She found no answers in Notch’s green eyes.

The sound of approaching footsteps echoed in from the open door. Notch dropped back to the chair, affecting the same lazy pose he’d used when he first entered the room.

Remora frowned at him. “You’re a charlatain,” she whispered. “Pretending to be lazy and relaxed. You’re not fooling anyone.”

The sound of his coughing laughter was lost in the clatter from those approaching via the hallway. Two hours had not yet passed. This was not Notch’s replacement coming to relieve him.

Perhaps she would have the opportunity to speak to Notch’s leader after all. The thought did not fill her with relief.

Delay

Jun 9, 2010 Leave a comment

An unexpected, large, and time-sensitive project at work has eaten up most of my home time and all of my energy for the past two weeks. Choose will be delayed until NEXT Thursday.

I will see you (and you will see Remora!) then.

/salute