Chapter 1: Trickwitch
How someone could go missing before they even arrived, Ryle thought as he attempted to pull up his pants and down his shirt at the same time, was beyond him. Apparently it could happen, though, he added as yet another -- the third so far -- guard crashed in to him in their rush to get to wherever. Sleepy tongue fumbling to make a half-way decent curse on the anonymous guard, Ryle gave up on his pants and went for his shoes. After he secured them around his feet, he rushed after the guard who had most recently almost knocked him over, trying to button his fly as he ran.
The moment he was outside, another person crashed into him, and this time he did fall. Calling the plague at the next person to acquaint him with the ground, Ryle quickly got up and out of the way of the latest stream of people. Someone grabbed his arm, and he looked to see Marylyn anxiously tugging him toward the gate.
"What's going on, Marylyn?" He asked over the noise of the yard. She flashed him a glance of disbelief.
"You don't know?"
He rolled his eyes, then glared to his left as another person bumped into him.
"Not that," he clarified, waving a hand in the air and turning back to his cousin, "Where are we going? I need to--"
"Ryle!"
Both Marylyn and Ryle stopped as Jerone caught up with them.
"Ryle," he said again, "Gera wants you to take the trick witch to a secure room."
Ryle and Marylyn looked at each other for a moment, then back at Jerone. "Trick witch?" they both asked.
Trick witches, servants of Tamzi, the trickster god, were not uncommon to be found begging on the streets or selling fortunes. Their numbers were once far greater, according to the history texts, but that was before the raids cleaned most of them out. Now they were little more than an annoyance. Still, their evil nature allowed a single trick witch to turn the world on its shoulders. Their presence was not tolerated for more than a couple days, and even they had the sense to stay away from the Kray House.
Jerone looked at one, then the other, and then over his shoulder.
"Yes, the trick witch. She came up to the gates wearing the new Kray's clothes, claiming to be him. Gera's worried something happened to the heir on his way here." Jerone took a couple steps back the way he came. "Gera wants you, Ryle! Come on!"
Ryle twisted out of Marylyn's grip. "I'll see you at the house," he said, starting to move away.
"Da ordered me to bring you to him myself," Marlyn said, cutting her eyes at him.
He glanced at her as he made his way to the other gate, and she was soon at his side.
"I don't need you to deliver me to his doorstep."
She shrugged and grabbed his arm again so as not to be separated. He gave a mental sigh at this, but made no remark. One moment he was the House Heir, the next he needed Marylyn's assistance in walking from one spot to the next. They wove their way through the crowd, trying to get to Gera's gate without being trampled. He had known that the new Kray was missing, despite him not being set to arrive until the next day, and despite any word coming from his troupe regarding his location or lack thereof. This news of a trick witch claiming to be him was completely new, though, and while it was equally absurd, it at least provided some bit of an explanation for all this chaos.
Trick witch.
A chill worked down his spine, and he quickly shook it off. Don't meet their eyes and you'll be fine, he reminded himself as he continued walking. The first thing he saw when he got to the gate was Gera's rather worried face. The second thing he saw was a pair of green eyes. Immediately correcting his mistake and looking back at Gera's face, he asked for the situation.
"Girl here got here 'round a half hour ago, everyone was drunk from the celebrations, so took a while to round them up. Claiming to be of Kray origin, this girl is, and wearing the heir's clothes too. Keeps saying to let her in."
Ryle flicked his eyes at the girl long enough to confirm two things in his mind: one, that she was, in fact, wearing the new Kray's clothes, and two, that she had the black hair and green eyes of a trick witch. He also made a clear note in his mind that she was annoyed, and that he wasn't so sure he wanted to be the escort of that thing in such a state.
"I'm thinking you should take her to one of the locking guestrooms to await trial," Gera said, interrupting Ryle's thoughts.
Ryle nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but the trick witch beat him to it.
"Locking guestroom? And pray tell what I'm to be put on trial for? I have spent the last two months climbing down a mountain to get here and claim my seat, and you dare threaten me with a trial?"
"Trick witches don't get seats, madam, they get bonfires."
Gera and Marylyn both hissed at his bluntness, the former quickly moving in to correct it.
"Not that we're saying that you're a trick witch--"
"Of course not," the girl said, staring at Ryle, "That's not what it sounded like at all."
"Please understand our position here," Gera began again, attempting to cool down the situation before the witch-girl blew up the Kray House. Ryle gave him no chance, though, and quickly cut in.
"The heir has yet to arrive, and here you are standing in his clothes, claiming to be him, despite your rather obvious difference in gender."
Gera glared at him, but, determined to have the last word, Ryle quickly put out a few more.
"And then there is the matter of your coloring,"
"Enough!" Gera exclaimed, "Ryle, take this tr-- ah, girl to one of the locking guestrooms, and make sure it's a decent one. For all we know, she might be one of the heir's companions--"
"Wearing his clothes?"
"--come early," he finished with a frown.
Ryle stared at him for a long moment before speaking.
"Forgive me for not wanting to risk my soul--"
"Forgiven. Next time wake up first. Locking guestroom, go!" Gera gave him the look that Ryle and every other underage member of the house recognized as the last warning.
After a brief pause, Ryle gave a grudging nod. Why the heir would be travelling with a trick witch was beyond him -- the very concept inconceivable. Still, it was probably better to assume it was than to get his family in trouble later for his disrespect. He glanced at the girl again as the gate was opened for her. Nonetheless, the room would have a solid lock on it. Probably one next to the temple. It might not do much, but perhaps it would stunt any powers this witch intended to use.
Marylyn, who had held her tongue throughout the exchange, flicked her eyes at Ryle, Gera, and the girl, before stepping forward and extending her hand.
"Marylyn," she offered warmly.
"Gale," she chirped, grasping the hand and releasing it, "Nice to know someone has a pinch of common sense here."
Marylyn considered the words a moment, saw Gale's lips lift in a smile, then did the same.
"Don't tell Ryle, though," she said quickly, "He believes me inept."
She winked at Ryle as she said this, and he ground his teeth. His cousin was holding easy conversation with a trick witch right in front of him, and he couldn't say anything more about it lest he risk family shame and personal punishment from Gera.
"All the more power to you, I'm sure," Gale said before turning to Ryle, "I need to speak with Kray Vens."
Ryle looked at her and kneaded his forehead before grabbing her arm and pulling her away. "You'll get to speak with Vens on your trial."
She narrowed her eyes. "Be sure to alert him as to my presence before then. I'm sure he'll be willing to see me beforehand once he learns of me--"
"I'm sure."
Marylyn took a couple big steps forward until she was at Gale's side.
"Ryle can be rather curt sometimes. I advise you not to give him much mind."
"Marylyn," Ryle ground out, stopping to look at her, "I advise you to go tell Da that I'll be on my way."
"How do you live with him, I wonder?" Gale asked dryly before turning back to Ryle, "I promise you, Ryle. Go to him and tell him you saw a girl at the gates, and he will want to speak with me."
Ryle gave her a disbelieving look paired with a scowl, but nothing more. After a moment of silence, Marylyn piped in again.
"What could it hurt? If he--"
"Kray Vens is sleeping," he said, once again halting and whirling around at Marylyn, who raised an eyebrow at his outburst.
"And we all know how he just hates to be woken up when his heir's life might be at stake, right?"
Ryle made a frustrated noise and continued walking.
"Look, I'm tired. I was woken up because this trick witch here couldn't have been bothered to show up in the heir's clothes during daylight hours, and now I need to lock her up, find the heir, and report to Da all the current events when you are perfectly capable of--"
"I'm not the House Heir," she said.
She had a good point there, and Ryle consented defeat. They turned down the hall that led to the guestrooms, most of which were in use due to the celebrations. It wasn't very often that a Kray retired, after all. Only once every six decades, more years then most men see in a life time. Unlike those of Kray decent, not everybody was gifted with god blood in their veins. There was a family rumor that the Beadings, Ryle's house, might have a speck of it left over from a long ago marriage, but what was rumor other than a power tool?
"And forgive me for not sympathizing with you when the heir to the Kray Seat might be in danger and you're whining that it interrupted you sleep," Marylyn continued.
Ryle was about to respond, but couldn't think of a decent reply. Once again, she had a point.
"This is the way to the temple," Gale stated.
Ryle nodded. "What gave it away?" he asked sarcastically, glad for the change in subject. Maybe it was the line of statues of religious figures they were passing. Maybe it was the sound of the priests getting ready for the day. Maybe it was a feeling of unease within her.
She shrugged. "Your path choice."
Ryle wasn't quite sure what that meant, and he briefly attempted to apply it to fortune telling. He decided Gale was trying to either blackmail or bribe him, and mentally shrugged it off. Perhaps right now the trick witch was feeling the power of the temple and it made her nervous.
Well, good.
The three doors closest to the temple were in use, and the fourth was reserved for one of the guests' servants due to arrive tomorrow, but the sixth was open, and that's where he put her. The room was small, with just enough space between the desk and bed for someone to stand up and turn around. Still, it was large by servant standards, and gave them more freedom and privacy than they usually had at their own houses.
It also had a lock on the outside. Gale looked inside it doubtfully for a minute before turning to Ryle.
"How shall I light the lantern?" she asked, pointing to the lamp on the desk. Biting back the obvious remark about her powers over fire, he asked instead, "Do you have a match?"
She raised an eyebrow at him, and he took that as her answer. He shrugged and nudged her into the room before closing the door and dropping the bar. It was one of the simplest locks in existence, something immune to the trick witch's powers. Nothing needed to be pushed or turned, there was just a slab of wood that needed to be lifted.
Satisfied, Ryle turned to walk back out.
"Perhaps you have a different idea of 'secure' than most people," Marylyn said from behind him. He sighed and turned back to look at her. She had her arms crossed and hip cocked, a signature position the said "you're-doing-it-wrong-but-I-can't-correct-you". He looked back at the door for a moment, then shrugged at Marylyn.
"She can't bewitch that lock," he said.
In addition to her already lopsided pose, Marylyn raised her eyebrow. "Would she need to?"
Ryle shrugged again and turned around, not even bothering with an answer. It wasn't long before he heard Marylyn's quick footsteps pad up behind him and then to his side. The moment they were outside, Ryle tried to return to Gera's gate, only to be stopped by Marylyn once again. Shouting over the noise, Ryle turned to her.
"Just tell Da that I'll be with him as soon as I'm done doing what he put me here to do."
He tried to twist out of her grip, and she grabbed on to his arm with both hands.
"Ryle, look, I need to take you to him. I can't just--"
"Yeah, Marylyn, you can too. He's never yelled at you for it before, has he?"
After a moment or two more of struggle, Ryle was able to break loose and avoid getting knocked over and trampled on his way to the gate.
Your prose is interesting, Ryle seems a great MC and, well, yeah. I'm hoping you're going to put more up. Also, your characters talk a bit like people from Belfast. Just, like, a random thing I noticed, and I've got them stuck in my head with Belfast accents now. Well. Anyway. Good job, just your details could use a bit of clearing up.
