Hy-Jinx sits cross legged upon a large single armchair, sunlight falling through a gap in the curtains, warming her face, her blue eyes staring into nothing. Over to her left she can hear the soft breathing of Hood and she imagines the scene before her, based on how she saw the room earlier when she first arrived. She can picture Hood, lying in the sumptuous bed, can picture all of the ornate furniture, the carefully carved posters of the bed, the view peaking through the curtains, across the relatively small ornamental garden, to the smattering of other manses in the Lesser beyond, but she adapts her ‘view’ slightly to take account for the daylight. Hy-Jinx smiles softly to herself, feeling the calm, peaceful ambiance of the guest quarters where they have been housed. Her room is very similar to Hood’s, located on the other side of the shared audience room next door, but she feels the need for company, even if that company is currently snoring.
Hy-Jinx contemplates her situation philosophically, her thoughts playing about the edges of her lips, as they purse slightly here and now, then twist a little, as she thinks about how, even though her environment is significantly different to that of the keep’s dungeons, she is still a prisoner…perhaps in more ways than one.
The experience of Masqued Madeleine plays heavily on her mind and she runs over the fight in the plaza again and again, the feelings and abilities the mask presented her with, and considers her understanding of her friend and guild sister Madeleine in a new light, remembering the interactions she had with her over the years, and wondering what was the mask and what was her? The reflection saddens her somewhat as it makes her memories…untrustworthy somehow, as if they are not real but artificial and need to be re-interpreted, but to do so will be to rob them of their emotional value and even if a new interpretation is made, it will only ever be a fantasy, something which cannot be determined as real…Sitting there, Hy-Jinx feels that she has lost her friend twice over.
The mask is in her lap, and Hy-Jinx runs her fingers over the course wooden grain, feels the shape of the curved, carved mouth-way and eye sockets, and the cracks that have formed along the rim top - Madeleine’s face…Hy-Jinx can feel it smiling at her, but knows the true nature of that smile now, the grin of death, a grin cut into bone, like a smiling skull - a deadly smile.
Hy-Jinx slowly raises the mask to her face and places it against her skin, feels the strange suction, as it adheres to her face, and then lets her awareness sink into her body as the feeling of fire burning across her body spreads up her spine and into every nerve fibre she possesses, causing a litheness and lightness to creep into her posture to give her the feeling of almost floating upon the chair. She bends her head from side to side, tension in her back melting away, and within, Hy-Jinx can ‘see’ everything, as if a single vibration at her body’s centre which contains the immediate totality of everything around her, playing out inside her body, as if the outside is contained as a single point inside. She breathes deeply and feels the air circulate and move about her body, spiralling into her blood stream and the whole vista that she has before her throbs and pulses slightly with her heart beat.
“Hello?” Hy-Jinx speaks to the mask through the mask, and waits several moments to see if she will get a response. Nothing.
Hello? She tries speaking with her mind…still nothing.
Sitting, waiting for a response a subtle but tangible urge seems to want her to stand and Hy-Jinx realises that there are three options, to obey, to ignore or to simply let be, and in letting be it’s as though she takes a back seat to proceedings and her body operates autonomously by itself. Thus doing so, or more accurately, not doing, Masqued Madeleine stands and, walking from the room, walks over to a small piano in the audience room and sitting herself on the seat, lifts the cover, finds the pedals with her feet and lets her fingers begin to move slowly and gracefully over the keys, picking out a tune that Hy-Jinx is familiar with, but only having ever heard it - a piece written specifically for the piano, an instrument that Hy-Jinx has never played before. It is a simple but beautiful composition a string of notes that repeat and then invert, reflect and transform over and over before returning once more to their original order again. Each hand plays the transforming motifs and they intertwine with one another creating harmonies and in some instances dramatic dissonance, whilst all the while enthralling the listener.
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“Ambrosia?”
A voice filled with confusion and hope sounds out from behind, and Hy-Jinx instinctively tugs off the mask, and turns, almost guiltily, letting the mask fall to the floor, as she fishes in her pocket for her glasses and, fumbling, puts them on to see a middle aged woman standing in the gap made by the partial opening of one of the large thin, tall double doors that lead out onto a hallway beyond the suite of rooms in which Hy-Jinx and Hood are housed.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I did knock but I don’t think you heard me,” the woman says by way of explanation, smiling sadly, her colours swirling into a melancholy hue. “You know you reminded me of someone - my daughter - she used to play that very tune, exactly where you sit now at that very piano. But that was years ago.”
“Oh? Where is she now?”
“She left. We haven’t spoken for a long time,” she smiles again to cover her sorrow, and then changes the subject “I brought you your things. May I? “ she asks, before entering the room and carefully placing Hy-Jinx’s seven bell hat, mandolin and other folded clothes on one of the sofa’s that surround a tea table in front of a large fireplace in the centre of the room. “A…servant…(she clears her voice) dropped them off earlier, said they belonged to one of my…’guests’. ‘Guests?’ said I…”, the woman arches one of her eyebrows, “we haven’t entertained ‘guests’ for a while…Goodness, and it shows! Where are my manners, I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Aurelia, Aurelia Clearwater, Countess of the House of Clearwater.”
“Hy-Jinx,” says Hy-Jinx, smiling at the simplicity of her title. “Nice to meet you. You work for the Guild?” Hy-Jinx asks directly, in a tone to sweep away the pussy-footing around.
“In a manner of speaking. I work with the Guild. Let us just say that my family has always interpreted the word ‘noble’ in a slightly more original way than it is used today.”
“Fight the power," says Hy-Jinx raising a fist in the air.
“Exactly young lady. Well, regardless of who or what you are, you are most very welcome in my home, for as long as you need to stay. I assume your companion…”
“Resting…We had a busy yesterday.”
“I can only imagine. Well, I’ll leave you to it. I assume you know to remain within these rooms for the duration of your stay - not all of the servants here are privy to, how should I put it, my ‘extra curricula activities’. If you need anything there’s a bell-pull to the side of the fireplace there, it’ll ring downstairs and someone ‘Guild friendly’ will see to your needs. And there’s a second bell-pull on that side in case of…emergencies. You’ll need to pull that three times in quick succession for it to have any effect.”
“Sounds intriguing. Thank you.”
The Countess Aurelia turns to leave, pausing at the door. “You play beautifully by the way - just like my daughter. That was her favourite piece - The Dragon Fugue by Urche,” she says then steps from the room and quietly closes the door behind her.
Hy-Jinx being Hy-Jinx turns on her seat to face the emergency bell-pull and stares at it with twitching fingers. “One, two, three, eh?” she says, to no one in particular. “Or make time for wine?” She pauses, contemplating her options, before slapping her hands on her thighs. “Clearly both you idiot!”
Hy-Jinx bends, picking up Masqued Madeleine and balancing her on the piano keyboard. “Keep an eye out,” she says, standing and walking to her room, returning moments later with a dark green bottle, the neck of which she holds in one hand and forcefully pushes a thumb into with the other, half moving the cork into the bottle. “Needs must,” she says grinning at the mask before using her index finger to push the cork in all the way and causing some of the red contents to spill out onto the carpet. “Whoops.” She says, taking a swig, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and looking affectionately at her bell-hat.”How’ve ya been darlin’. D’ya miss me?” The bells don’t respond. “Like that, is it?” She says, raising an eyebrow, before turning to the ‘emergency’ bell pull and walking over to it thoughtfully. She takes another swig from the bottle and notices how the room is slowly becoming more rosy in its appearance. She glances through the open door to her left into Hood’s room, watching him for a few moments. He is still in a deep sleep. She takes another swig - the wine is really good! - and the bell pull starts glowing, almost inviting her to pull it. “Well, if you insist,” she says, giggling to herself at just how happy the world seems right now.
One, two, three - Hy-Jinx pulls the handle in quick succession, then looks around expectantly but nothing seems to happen…except…
A very faint whirring sound seems to be coming from the floor and then the hearth stone - a large flat slab of grey stone in front of the fire slowly sinks by about an inch and then slides with a dull rumble under the fireplace to reveal a set of steps leading down.