Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nothing_to_fear) wrote2012-04-17 08:13 pm
nothing_to_fear) wrote2012-04-17 08:13 pm
d'enanigans: is calling it "the climax" too on point?
This house has a very pleasant room for receiving honored guests.
In the fashion of House Shahrizai, the walls are richly tapestried (though not in identifying colors) and the couches are soft, finely upholstered. He has ordered the servants to stand ready with wine and light refreshment, and readier still to act should negotiations sour.
Jonathan sent a man to wait for Brix; he himself went upstairs to check on Matthieu. Finding him asleep, but well enough and in no danger, he returned to this room to wait.
He is reading a book of plants and their uses as they come in to light the torches.
In the fashion of House Shahrizai, the walls are richly tapestried (though not in identifying colors) and the couches are soft, finely upholstered. He has ordered the servants to stand ready with wine and light refreshment, and readier still to act should negotiations sour.
Jonathan sent a man to wait for Brix; he himself went upstairs to check on Matthieu. Finding him asleep, but well enough and in no danger, he returned to this room to wait.
He is reading a book of plants and their uses as they come in to light the torches.
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Since Matthieu had trouble staying awake.
He can think about a poison that deliberately induces terror later.
When he isn't holding a whip within reach of the man's unprotected face.
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Fear is natural.
He likes to think it makes him sharper.
"Perhaps," he allows.
"Though I would call it exhaustion."
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And if so... why use something so specific?
Apart from Grue de Agen's apparently partiality for such suffering.
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Jonathan's expression now is not quite a smile-- blame the proximity of the whip, perhaps.
"It is intended to unsettle. Permanently."
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Then,
"Who were the other targets to be?"
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"Other targets?"
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Even without the complexity of the poison - the plotting for a marriage, going so far as to kidnap Matthieu on the off chance he might see something...
It's too much.
Unless various members of house Shahrizai plus Jonathan Grue de Agen are utter fools, but he thinks not.
His voice is hard.
"Who?"
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Poisons and plans are one thing, but plotting against the realm itself ...
It's a question of whether it is better to preserve some of House Shahrizai's secrets, and somehow attempt to leverage that against everything he's already given away, or to cooperate.
It's not that he expects protection; rather, the opportunity to slip away.
"There was but one I was made aware of," he says slowly.
"The royal archivist."
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Well.
It's a good thing he asked Davien to signal Ariette once the building was secure. This is a little beyond Night Court authority.
"I see."
He gestures to the guards, and they each move in to take hold of a servant.
"Seperate rooms, and stay with them," he instructs, as they march them both out again.
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"Alone at last," Jonathan murmurs, cold.
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He'd have sent them out immediately, if it hadn't made sense to make sure they knew exactly how easily their master was talking.
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He expected to feel more confident, keeping hold of his knife.
As things stand, it's a rather useless tool.
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Havelock hadn't mentioned it after he failed to put it down for... mostly that reason.
"What did you put in this poison of yours?"
He is no herbalist, but he does have an excellent memory.
He may as well make a start on what the city guards will no doubt wish to continue.
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Jonathan follows with a long, precise list of herbs and amounts and the order on which one adds them.
"Of course," he murmurs, "it's all little use without a blue eastern bloom. If you'll pardon my saying, I find it more beautiful than gentian by far. Its Caerdicci name is schizophrama erica."
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Then repeats it back, slow and thoughtful and carefully not reacting to Grue de Agen's choice of jibe.
That won't serve a thing.
"Have you also formulated an antidote?"
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If he is surprised or disappointed by Havelock's memory, it doesn't show.
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"Which consists of?"
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"Much the same, but in a more palliative combination. The cure is ever entwined with the cause."
He rattles off the names of a few more herbs.
"I've some prepared."
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They can look into that.
"Where?"
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He smiles, absent.
"You'll want to be sure of the dosage, first."
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There is a knock at the door, and for a wonder, Davien actually waits. Evidently the seriousness of the matter has made an impression.
"Enter," he says, not turning away from Jonathan as the guard enters.
"Lady Brix would like a word, Messire," he says. "If convenient."
Havelock nods. "Fine. Take over, Davien."
He turns and leaves without a further word, and the guard draws his sword with a bright and probably-not-really friendly smile. The man still has a knife, he notes. That could be fun.