the first time I made mincemeat of the standard propositions establishing a so-called moral science

[bouchonne]

WHO: Byerly Rutyer and Wysteria Poppell
WHAT: She's stuck with him for 3 hours
WHEN: Whenever
WHERE: On the road
NOTES: He's a smutmonger??

[ It's not a terrible trip from Kirkwall to Greencliff. Thirty miles along the coast, and a journey decently worth taking: Greencliff is a striking city, with a high copper content in the mineral cliffs giving them a curious greenish tint. Not particularly built-up, not a center of commerce or of war, but quite nice nevertheless. There are a multiple trips by commercial carriage out there per day. So, logically, the odds of running into someone you don't want to run into are relatively small.

Thank the Maker Wysteria isn't a betting woman, because it's clear enough her luck today is rotten.

Because not only does she end up in a carriage with Byerly, Byerly was running late. So that means that it's when she's well and truly settled, and when the wagon is but a few breaths from departing, that he scrambles in. The door closes behind him as he pants, clearly come off a sprint for it; the driver gives a cry; the horses lurch into motion; there's no time for her to escape.

Perhaps a stroke of good luck for the girl, though. By, for once, is so genuinely overcome with the aftereffects of drink that he doesn't even take the time to investigate his surroundings. Instead, he flops over the bench, and throws his arm across his eyes, and groans, all without ever having seen her. ]

Comments

[heirring]

I haven't, but it sounds horribly dangerous. [She's smiling again and she takes up the cards, closes the book and shuffles the former on the heavy back corner.] And crucial, you say? How fascinating. And besides, we seem to have time on our hands and what better way to spend it than forcing ourselves the squint at card suites in the dark.

[If she's doing him a kidness, then it is almost certainly one that works in her favor as well. For a moment there, she'd been struck by the awkwardness of the carriage - the uncomfortable nearness of the space, the dark, the unsettling sensation of being made to hold up her own expectations and re-examine them. For all those two weeks she'd spent in the Gallows learning geography and politics and what not to touch, no one has quite spoken with so much clarity as Byerly to the dangers of the world falling apart as it seems to be now and she finds-- well, she doesn't know what she finds, as it sounds to be an unpleasant topic of thought and she has thus far done very well at avoiding all of those.

(It must be hard to be so far from your family, Alexandrie had said. Not yet, she'd told her. That's still true, like many things stay true when you don't give them much consideration.)]

[bouchonne]

You'll certainly not hear me complaining.

[ He takes up the cards and begins shuffling them easily on his knee. As he speaks, he begins adding in flourishes and tricks - little bits of showmanship to entertain and delight. He doesn't even seem conscious he's doing it, either. It's automatic. ]

It's a marvelous game, Wicked Grace. Easy enough to learn, but almost impossible to master. And a game of wills as much as a game of luck. - Which, honestly, if you're playing it right, it oughtn't be a game of luck at all, since you ought to endeavor to cheat as much and as viciously as possible.

[heirring]

Ah, one of those. I have a cousin with a great fondness for a game called Jack Sixes that's the same. A lying game, I mean. When I was a girl I used to pass cards to him under the table or stand behind my uncle and signal which cards he had. So I recognize the concept.

[Let it not be said that Byerly isn't true to at least one word or two; he is very good at shuffling cards. She imagines that must translate into the fiddling just fine and likely says something about his penchant for gambling if not his skill.]

--And I assure you, I can be quite vicious.

[bouchonne]

I hope so. I have no patience for women without cruelty.

And, speaking of which - it's called Wicked Grace because of the cards used. They're classified into virtues and vices. You must match virtues to virtues and vices to vices. - I am a bit appalled, by the way. [ His smile doesn't look remotely appalled. ] I never would have thought you'd have aided and abetted in the execution of cheating. You're such an honest lass. Or at least a lass who's bad at dishonesty, which is functionally the same.

[heirring]

[She deigns not to roll her eyes, though the effort is painfully visible regardless.]

I didn't say I was any good at it. And besides, as I said I was a girl and all children are the worst people you've met in your entire life. Give anyone under the age of ten the opportunity to lie, cheat and steal and you'll find yourself being lead headfirst into a ditch and waking up missing your shoes and purse.

--Can you win matching only virtues? Or must you do both?

[She fixes him with a smile which is meant to be sly - my, how witty she is - quirks at the corner of her mouth then spreads entirely too far to be anything but annoyingly pleased with herself.]

[bouchonne]

I've known a good child or two in my day.

[ Which is an odd thing to confess, he reflects. Odd and vulnerable. He keeps his eyes on his cards as he shuffles, and then looks up to respond to her question. ]

Look at you, smirking at me. You end up pursuing the suits you draw, whether that be virtue or vice. If you concentrate on finding only virtues, then you shall lose.

[heirring]

[She refuses to let any ounce of his practicality - ha - take the shine off her cleverness. Instead Wysteria settles into it and the carriage bench, willing the sway of it to be relaxing rather than jarring.]

I don't believe it. The part about the children, not the cards. I'm sure that's very good advice. I've never known a child who was sweet. Even my favorite ones started as monstrous and have only grown into kindness.

[bouchonne]

Well, perhaps your cynical eyes simply find monsters where there is only mischief. [ He lifts his eyebrows at her. ] Perhaps the fault is in the beholder.

[heirring]

Or maybe you've only seen these children while they've been on their very best behavior.

[She lifts her eyebrows right back.]

[bouchonne]

What an assumption. You think I don't actually know any children?

[heirring]

[Her eyebrows remain raised, lopsided smirk firmly in place.]

[bouchonne]

Well, I'm not about to introduce you, if that's what you're angling for. Now. Shall we play?

[heirring]

[No, she thought not. Her smirk slips sideways into a real, proper smile.]

At your leisure, Mr Rutyer.

[bouchonne]

[ He begins dealing the cards. As he does: ]

So what has brought you into contact with children? Do you have younger siblings?

[heirring]

Not at all. [As she takes the cards she's dealt; there's no great place to deal in the rumbling carriage.] I'm an only child. But I have a multitude of cousins and extended family with a fondness for visiting. The house is large and in the summers we usually kept my father's second brother's family as the weather in the country was better for my aunt's health and the children had more room to roam as they pleased like wild things. And I think the visits are a great comfort to my mother who is very fond of little ones, though she pretends not to be.

--And yourself, Mr Rutyer? Do you have many brothers and sisters?

[He must be the youngest if he does. He seems that kind.]

[bouchonne]

Just one. [ Said easily, casually, as though the answer to that question weren't an open wound. ] Perhaps the problem, then, is that it's simply your family that is terrible. Now, we can play this first round with open hands, to help you learn the game.

[heirring]

I suppose they could be. [Said mildly, all her attention taken by the cards in her hand. She lays them obediently out over her lap.]

It makes sense that you have a sister. Maybe that's why you're so easy to mistreat. You have the air of a man used to being scolded. --How does it look?

[She taps the cards with her fingertips.]

[bouchonne]

[ He lifts his eyebrows. ]

Not all young ladies are like you, dear Miss Poppell, straining to scold their elders. [ Then, tapping her cards - ] That's a pair there, and another right there.

[ Of course - he hasn't actually shown his own cards yet. ]

[heirring]

[She rearranges the cards accordingly, leaning down so she might better see the suites in the low light.]

That's a shame. You should introduce me to these young ladies so that I might recommend it to them; I find it quite liberating.

[Speak not a work of this to Brother Deacon, who is already appalled by her for a thousand reasons and needs no others.]

[bouchonne]

It brings me joy that it brings you joy. So - the next thing we do is draw.

[heirring]

[Cards are drawn.]

And discard accordingly, I presume. --And with these matches, are they retained in the hand or set aside as we play? And do the rounds stack? I mean, as in do we play for points totaled or is each hand its own complete game?

[It makes a difference.]

[bouchonne]

Retain them. You want to accumulate the best hand possible. Find as many as you can of a matching suit - preferably of high numbers - until someone draws the Angel of Death.

[heirring]

Delightfully grim.

[Wysteria rearranges, draws, and discards more or less as directed and at no point does she either request to see his hand or remark on his negligence to show them. When at last the Angel is drawn, she sets it face up above the rest. Only then--]

You must tell me where we stand, Mr Rutyer.

[bouchonne]

Having observed your cards all along -

[ He reveals his hand. ]

I win. Of course.

[heirring]

Pass them here so I might study them, if you please.

[In the dim light and the trundling of the carriage, she must hold them close to her face to get a good look at the hand. Wysteria takes a few moments more to compare them to her own, clearly making a diligent effort to square the results and mark the differences between their hands. At last, she sweeps the played cards together and passes them back.]

I have it. Let's play properly this time.