Bisset's Welcome
The Explorer chapterhouse was just that, a two story house in a slightly better than worse block of the Freiburg stretch. A few of the city guards wearily walked the corner under a sputtering city light. It was drizzling here in the city, Talen noticed that it perpetually did so over the years.
He sighed inwardly. He had actually thought long and
hard before coming to the decision that had brought
him here to the chapterhouse... Colesen's
proposition...to join the Explorer's Society.
The more pragmatic side of Talen questioned him
unceasingly. Logical arguments against, mostly. Some
about his intent, some about the responsibilities
required, if he could fulfill them, and some about
what it gained him...
It all came down to one thing, he reasoned.
Fear.
He was scared. But somehow it seemed right. Maybe
because it was this fear that he had that made it so.
So right. Maybe it was a chance to be a little more
than he had been these past few years. Years that he
had lived from crumb to corner in the filth of the
same back alleys and rooftops. The places that not
only killed, but cheapened the worth of a human being.
Talen walked up and begrudingly lifted the knocker
and released it. It sounded off a dull thud. He
waited a few seconds and reached up for it again.
Just as his fingers glanced the handle, the door
opened a crack.
Just enough for a gun nozzle to point out.
Talen didn't feel excessively worried. Not that he
hadn't seen the damage a gun could do, as he had on
numerous occasions; not that he doubted the resolve of
the unseen person behind the door, because he had seen
calmer people do worse with more....
No, the reason that Talen wasn't hugely worried was
that the gun was aimed too high. Just high enough to
be a head shot for one person of average height, but a
foot short for Talen.
And they made no effort to change the position of the
gun.
"Go away, " came a curt statement. It was impossible
to tell the gender of the voice as the door muffled it
badly.
"I'm here to see a Mr. Colesen," said Talen
nonplussed.
"So?" The gun moved irritably. "A lot of people have
been looking for our Mr. Colesen. Most of them have
murderous intent. I'd advise you to leave before I
decide to shoot."
"I'm not a murderer..."
"Really? Why don't I just let you in so that you can
prove your point..." An angry pause. "Oh, wait, I'm
not stupid..."
Talen sighed. "You know, you're not making this any
easier..."
The voice on the other side sighed loudly as well.
"You're right. I've been a very ungraceous host
haven't I?"
Talen was about to respond when the gun went off.
The door burst open and the shooter stepped out. A
woman. Very pretty, in a fairly menacing sort of way.
Most of the menace was contributed by the smoking gun
in her hand.
"When someone points a gun out at you, it usually
means that they're not..." She looked down, and was
obviously startled that she wasn't staring at an
equally smoking corpse...
"...taking visitors," she completed, looking
slightly chagrined.
Talen frozen in a half cringe, squeaked out the
woman's name, as they had already met previously...
"Madame Bisset?" Are you insane?!!!
"Mr. Calyanni? You should have told me it was you, I
might not have shot you..." She placed her hands on
her hips.
Might not have, indeed. Talen brought his hands
down, eyeing the pistol warily, "At me. You shot at
me..."
"So I did." She looked around the corner. "Where are
those guards?"
Talen shrugged and looked around, "Yours or the
city's?"
"The city's, of course, so we can get this
unpleasantness out of the way..."
Great. She's going to have them arrest me. Oh well,
I wonder if it's going to be a lockpick or a bribe
this time...
After a few minutes, the guards failed to show. Not
only did the guards not show, but no doors or shutters
were opened by macabre curiousity.
She tapped her feet impatiently. "Probably drunk.
Are you coming in, Mr. Calyanni?"
"I thought that you were waiting for the guards..."
"I was..."
"So you're letting me come in?"
"I thought I just said that..."
"So that... " It dawned on Talen. "So that you can
get a fresh gun and shoot me. Dead. For good this
time?" He folded his arms. "I'm sorry. I'd rather
wait for the guards to arrest me..."
She bent down slightly and looked Talen straight in
the face, "I'm not going to shoot you with another
gun, now come inside so that I won't decide to have
you arrested..."
Talen complied, stepping around her and into the
house. She closed the door behind him.
He was well into the opulent hall when he realized
that she was not following. He looked back and had
the urge to find a large piece of furniture or a dark
corner. She was meticulously reloading...
'I'm not going to shoot you with another gun...'
"Not when that one will do," Talen mumbled.
She looked up, "Yes?" She saw him glare at the
gun."You and your friends have caused me no end of
inconvenience. Most of your unfinished business in
Vodacce is ending up on this doorstep..."
Looking at the gun worriedly, Talen couldn't help but
ask, "What unfinished business would that be?"
"Never mind about that, lets just say that we've had
to take steps..."
"Like shooting people on the doorstep?"
As if she never heard him, Bisset calmly finished
reloading and replaced her powder into a drawer fitted
into a small table by the door.
"For my next visitor..." she smiled.
It was far from a comforting smile, but he did relax
when she placed the gun on the table.
"What do you want, Mr. Calyanni?" She asked
demandingly as she walked toward and past him...
"Mr. Colesen, Madame..." Talen followed her in what
he thought looked to be a study.
"We already went over this, he's not here..."
The room came across as as ornate as the hall, but as
Talen glanced around he saw how his first impressions
were skewed. There was an incredible amount of stuff
in this study of Bisset's. But not messy. Rolls and
bindings of material organized to the ceiling and
across the walls. Nothing was on display, but
everything had its place. Instead of seeming
smaller, the room seemed to push at its boundaries
with its sheer volume. And light. There was light
everywhere, given off by large lanterns that rivaled
the single streetlight outside.
In the center of the room was a massive desk, and on
it was the sole exception to the organization.
A mass of written note, unorganized and
uncatagorized. Sitting in its matching chair, Bisset
produced a set of lenses from around her neck and
perched them on her nose. Rather imperiously, she
looked across to Talen.
"I'm a very busy woman, Mr. Calyanni. Out with it,
or leave." She nodded to the hallway. "I believe you
know where the door is..."
And Talen was seriously thinking about using it.
"I would...like...to join your Society," He stammered
out. Dammit, bend or break, Talen...
She glared at him.
"I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?"
"Colesen offered all of us a membership in the
Explorer Society..."
She interrupted him, "Yes, I know that part. You
said that you would like to join, didn't you?"
"Yes. Yes, I did."
"Convince me."
Talen blinked. "Convince you of what? Colesen
already made us the offer..."
Interrupting again, she frowned, "Which I can assure
you, can be revoked at anytime. Convince me that your
intentions are not self involved, or for your own
personal gain. You are a thief, by profession, isn't
that correct? How are we to gain from this?" She
stood up. "Trust is implicit in our organization.
How is that probable, if we have to, forgive the
expression, 'count the silverware...'"
"Are you saying that in all your doings that you've
never had to rely on the criminal element to get
things done?" Talen blurted.
"I dislike the word 'rely.' We have had dealings with
people such as you, but your point is made that goals
have been met through their association... But as for
them being members... Do you see my point? As a
matter of fact, there is very little a criminal, such
as yourself, values more than his or her own skin,
isn't that right?"
"I risked my life for them..." Talen objected.
"Did you really? Or did you get caught up in
something that spiraled out of control that you needed
them to extricate yourself from the situation? Or did
you see an opportunity? Which was it?"
Talen rubbed his head trying to concentrate. Why do
I bother? None of these people would last five
minutes where I have for years now. They're so quick
to accuse and demand. Faith or their precious word,
honor...
"The compasses, for instance, your party believed
that you possessed them, or in actuality, stole them.
When confronted by their accusations, you could not
convince them otherwise, could you? You probably
helped whoever did steal them, if you didn't do it
yourself, that is..."
His face was growing hot and his mind was churning.
Why should I have to justify myself to these
narrowminded hypocrites? All I really want is
something better...
"Well? What do you have for me, as I said before..."
"You're a busy woman, yes I know, you said as
much..." Talen looked up and his voice was sure.
"I cannot convince you or even myself that my
intentions are not self involved and are not driven
for a personal gain, because they are. I want to be
something else, anything else, than what I am now. And
I'm sorry that you have problems with that. You speak
to me as if I had a choice other than to be what I am,
and that these other choices were better in someway
than what I chose. Let me tell you they were not. I
did see these people as an opportunity, but not in the
way that you believe. And yes, they did accuse me of
stealing your precious compasses, although it was not
in anyway my fault. And how did they come to accuse
me? Because I told them truthfully what I was when I
met them. A thief. A good natured prank and some
sloppy thinking later, I was the patsy for their
irresponsibility."
"Now, see here..." Bisset objected.
"No, madam, just a little longer." He paused a moment
to gather his thoughts. "Does your organization
sponsor sloppy thinking and irresponsibility? If it
does, then I want no part of it just as you would not
want anything to do with me. Tell me, madam, does
it?"
"No, it does not, Mr. Calyanni. It definitely does
not. Are you finished?"
"Yes, madam."
She sat down, nodding to herself. "One of the
prerequisites for joining the Society is an extensive
knowledge of the Thean language. Do you possess such
a knowledge?"
"No, madam."
She sighed, "Can you read?"
"Yes, in Vodacce."
She paused. "Vodacce."
"Yes, madam."
"And you speak Castillian..."
"And Eisen."
"Vodacce to Thean isn't difficult, Mr. Calyanni," She
produced a small book from a drawer in her desk,
"Here's a primer, I suggest you practice and do it
often, it is the only way to become proficient."
She opened another drawer in her desk, "Give me your
hand, Mr. Calyanni."
Talen did so.
She placed a ring in it. "I suspect its too large for
your hands, right now, but nevertheless, it is your
proof of your allegiance to us. It will come in handy
when you pick up your monthly note, or wish sanctuary
in this or another chapterhouse." Bisset produced a
leather bound journal, and opened it to its blank
cover. With her free hand, she searched a bit for
something on top of the desk.
"Damn Colesen and his notes," she mumbled as she
shuffled the papers around.
In moments, she found a ink bottle and a pen. As
Talen looked on, she wrote three lines into the cover,
Bisset then gave the open journal to him, "Take care
that that dries."
He held it in front of him and looked at the
incomprehensible writing. "Thean?"
"Yes. For now, your charge is to write in that
journal. Your party has a history of finding
themselves in places that may interest the Society.
It would also be nice if they wouldn't use firearms
and/or violence in such places..."
"What does it say?" Talen asked.
She ignored the question, "The Society may have use
of the skills that you're so proud of, do not be
surprised if you are called upon to employ them. Do
you have any more questions, comments, or
accusations?"
"No, madam."
She then began to organize Colesen's notes on her
desk. Talen stood there for a few minutes watching
her, waiting for some kind of dismissal.
"Mr. Calyanni, is there something else?" She asked
demandingly.
"No, madam."
"Have you forgotten where the door is?"
"Oh." Talen looked behind himself and to the hall,
"Then, I guess I'll be going..."
"Yes, you will..."
"Its been... Confusing, madam. Goodbye."
He turned to leave, but then thought of something.
"Madam Bisset..."
"Yes? What is it now?"
"The next time you want to shoot someone on the
doorstep..."
"Yes?"
"You might want to make sure to look at the person
you're shooting..."
She tilted her head as if contemplating the
statement. Her pen paused a moment.
"Who's to say I didn't, Mr. Calyanni?"
And there for a moment, just before the pen began to
write again, before she turned her head back to the
profusive notes, Talen saw it...
"Leave, Mr. Calyanni, I've got work to do..."
Not a smile, but a trace of amusement behind the low
perched glasses...
This just might work....
