Deathly hues

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I'm going cross-country skiing until Monday, so I'll reply then and send you a PM. :) :) :)

.:E:.:D:.:I:.:T:.

Back, back again :) I didn't get a cold, but for some unknown reason I've got pimples all over my face. Must've eaten something bad.

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No, I have no idea as to who it may be, Jasmine shook her head, and then she, too, looked at the workers. All right, she continued as the group dissapeared behind a corner, heading no doubt to the inn that Kazul and she had just left, We'll rob the bank. Let's take a small tour around the building. Who knows, maybe we'll find some way of getting in.

Jasmine broke into a slow walk, a slight limp in her steps. She closed her eyes half way and let the corners of her mouth droop into an idiotic smile. Anyone's old granny taking an afternoon tour of the city. She stayed close to the huge building, rejoicing innerly in the coolness of its shade. But even through her careful masking and acting Jasmine kept an eye open for any notch or crack in the wall that might be helpful later on.

Quite soon the cold wall ended and a perimeter fence took its place. Behing it, they could just make out numerous sheds - evidently used as storage places - as well as an occasional heap on the ground, old rusty objects lying in a haphazard pile in the middle of the courtyard. Jasmine stopped and rose to her hind feet, leaning her front paws against the bulky wooden posts. She reached forward and looked over the grounds beyond, trying to decide what exactly were they used for. After a minute or so, she dropped back into her quadraped form and swivelled around to face Kazul.

We can climb over and have a look, she suggested silently and jerked her head towards the fence, utterly ignoring the large 'Out of Bounds' sign that had been nailed to one of the posts.

 

Jasmine looked at the fence again, doubt beginning to stir in her mind. It was rather tall and she wondered if she'll be able to get across without much trouble. She took a few moments summoning up her courage and then leaned her paws against the top bar, pulling herself up and over. She landed with a thump on the hardened ground below, her knees bending and shaking. She stood up as fast as she could, then walked over to join Kazul in the shadow.

We should probably determine what we are looking for, she telepathed him, trying to calculate the answer, We have this idea that the company doesn't use real fishynk ink, so the obvious place to look for clues and proofs would be the salloons. Or the places they make the ink and send it up to the salloons. Or we could start with sifting through the garbage...

Jasmine didn't look too happy about this thought, but she shrugged and let it pass. Disgust was beyond her. She started walking along the wall, looking, as Kazul had suggested before, for some door connecting the building and the courtyard. The sun glared down at them, frying them with its rays. The heat was made even more terrible by the closed off, shade-less courtyard, full of rusting metal. Perspiration ran down Jasmine's forehead, and her head began to throb. She hoped they would find the door soon.

Luckily for them, a brown door came into view after a few yards of wall. A few dustbins and containers stood beside it and Jasmine hid behind them, turning questioningly to Kazul.

Do we go in? she asked softly, giving the entrance a wareful glance.

 

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|:| O O C |:|

'Sokay .:eats her computer:. It's freezing all the time.

|:| I C |:|

Jasmine didn't say anything but skipped inside after Kazul. Well, you could only call it "skipping" if you were more than a little kind-hearted, but let's not get into that. All in all, the door sprang shut behind them and Jasmine found herself in a narrow hall, pleasantly cool after the blaring sun outside. The floor was made from tar, or the substance that roads are usually made of. The walls followed its example, and Jasmine suddenly had a fleeing reminder of a prison cell.

This is what it must look like in the Hole, she told Kazul, a faint shudder running through the body. She was referring to the infamous prison in the middle of the Tmu Desert in Notios Sudesha, where convicts were brought for punishment. It was a work camp as well as a prison, and after digging wells or building walls under the blue sky for a few months, prisoners started to regret what they've done. Usually. Of course, Jasmine had never been there, the furthest she got was a one-night capture in the Police Bureau at Janardan City. But she had ran across books and scrolls about it during her studies.

The end of the corridor opened into a narrow staircase, and Jasmine made her way towards it, climbing the steps. A railing had evidently been unheard of, because there was not a hint of it on the walls. The steps ended with yet another door, this one more hefty. There was no doorknob, but by using a rusty pin that lay nearby, Jasmine was quickly able to lift the latch and pull the door open slightly, squinting through teh crack.

She saw a kitchen. Maybe some sort of dining hall, but now no one was eating anymore. Stacks and stacks of used plates and cutlery lay in the sinks waiting to be washed. A scrawny Cooking Apprentice was standing by one of the sinks, scrubbing a pan and looking thoroughly sweaty and annoyed. He grimaced as the brush he was using got caught on a nook in the pan and lost a couple of bristles.

Jasmine raised her eyebrows and looked around the room for some sort of hiding place. She spotted a cupboard, probably used for housing brooms, mops and other cleaning equipment. Right next to it was a door, pulled away from its hinged and lying propped against the wall. The place where it had been taken from had a rug hanging over it to resemble... well, a door. Where it lead to was questionable, but Jasmine decided, for once, to risk it.

She waited until the Apprentice bent down to put the pan away and then sprang out of their hiding place, her feet carrying her silently to the other door. Upon reaching it, she pulled the rug out of the way and slid behind it, breathing out in relief.
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The clatter of silverware falling to the floor made Jasmine jump. Whatever now? she thought, irritated. She was about to peek out from her hiding place when Kazul dashed in, quickly pulling the rug back into place behind himself.

Good idea, smiled Jasmine, interpreting his move, But no, I've got no idea what could be behind this door. Perhaps a dining room? A hall? A bathroom, washroom? What could be next to the kitchen?

She rested her hand on the cool copper doorknob. It turned quietly under her palm and the door sprang open, revealing a huge hall in front of them. It looked more like the nave of a temple, tall, narrow, arched window taking up a whole wall. It was as cool in here as it had been in the basement, but the air was not stale. A long table stood in the middle of the floor, twelve chairs lining each of its two long sides, the twenty fifth resting at the head. Light reflected on the polished wood surface, with nothing to stop its gentle breaking. The whole room was infact empty, emitting a sacred atmosphere, a tingly feeling down one's spine. It would be beautiful if you weren't constantly chased by the truthful thought that you weren't supposed to be here. Like Jasmine.

She frowned and moved along the wall as quickly as possible, scanning the room as she went. A door with two wings, arched in the manner of the windows, appeared to be the only other entrance to this fake cathedral. It made sense - a small door for the servants to bring dishes from, a big door for the guests to enter through. It reminded Jasmine of her hometown, the City of Aurius in the Sumundra Ocean. Her family had belonged to... to a higher social rank, like most of the inhabitants of this underwater town. They used to have a dining room like this, with two doors.

No, wait, three doors. There had been a secret panel at one place, installed there by Jasmine's over-protective father. He had a scribe or a recorder there, who took notes about the conversation held within the room. On some occasions, the scribe was replaced by a musician, usually a lute-player. They would play their instrument and soft music would float around the dining hall, making a nice background to casual conversation. Jasmine and her sister, Alaeia, had eavesdropped from this place more than once, even though they had been specifically forbidden to do it.

Maybe there was a secret panel here as well? Don't be silly, Jasmine told herself angrily, There aren't two rooms that are built in the same way. But maybe it wasn't true. It was common knowledge that companies, and sometimes individuals as well, were quite scared for their lives. The richer the more scared they became. So why in the Ramath-lehi couldn't this particular company have a secret panel with a passage joining onto it from the back? Jasmine shook her head.

I may be stupid, but d'you think there could be a secret panel somewhere around? she telepathed Kazul, blocking the weariness from her voice.
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|:| O O C |:|

Feel free to continue the discussion between the director and Chelsey.

|:| I C |:|

Imitating Kazul, Jasmine prowled quickly around the room, her eyes concentrated on the wall, sometimes stopping to slide down to the stones beneath her feet. Adrenaline was rushing through her veins; to her own surprise, the Kiom realised she was enjoying herself. Living again, living through some weird extasy. Her sight was suddenly sharper, her smell keener, she could hear a pin drop.

She swayed and stopped, puzzled. Something was not right, it was as if she had walked into a cloud of some drug. Jasmine was rather careful around drugs like natjeq (ramathian marijuana) or the nameless pink plant that produced hallucinations and was very popular around the Janardan Academy. She had had her experiments with alcohol and she held no doubt that drugs would have the same effect. And Jasmine had no intention of losing her spiritual ties with Fronima.

"Kazul!" she called out, so mixed up and perplexed that she forgot to telepath. Her shrill cry rang out in the deserted hall and was followed by a clatter of breaking plates and the sound of footsteps. The young cook was evidently about to storm into the dining hall. Jasmine galloped over to Kazul and jumped into a nearby nook, pulling the white pendragon after her and sliding down behind a spare coffee table. Its tablecloth hid them well and they lay in a tangled pile behind it, not daring to breathe in case they were noticed. Sorry, telepathed Jasmine yet again, deciding to explain the reason of her cry later. It wasn't the right moment right now.

The huge double doors were thrust open and they cast a long shadow on the ground. There was the sound of many footsteps and a male voice exclaimed:

"Cook, what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in the kitchen when there are no guests?"

"Yyyess sir..." stammered the poor apprentice, evidently scared out of his mind. There was a shuffle and Jasmine guessed he was moving backwards out into the kitchen, "I... I apologise, I was cleaning the table."

That's so true, thought Jasmine to herself with a sneer. The male voice continued, its edge cold as ice.

"You have no cloth in your hands. Go to the kitchen and seal the doors. Seal them. I will make sure you obey. Now go."

The pitterpatter of the pendragon's feet echoed around the room and there was a thud as he shut the door behind him. Silence followed, a whole minute passing by before anyone dared to make a move. Then there was a bright flash of violet light and a purple ball started spinning, moving around the room, licking the walls and leaving glowing purple flames. Jasmine ducked deeper under the table and the ball passed around them, leaving its fiery trail a good metre above their heads. As soon as the whole room was bathed in purple light, easily competing with the feeble late afternoon sun, the ball dissapeared at a click of its sender's fingers. Two chairs scraped across the floor and then silence descended once again.

Jasmine held her breath, not daring to peek over the edge of the coffee table for fear of beeing seen. She found Kazul's hand and squeezed it, though she wasn't sure if she was encouraging him or herself.

"What's up, Director? Why all this pink fire?" squeaked a female's voice, rubbed coarse by age. The speaker was evidently a Kiom and a rather important one at that. Why else would the director wish to speak with her alone?

"The defensal fire is here for security reasons, my dear Thill Chelsey," answered the male's voice. He sounded... He sounds mixed, Jasmine couldn't help thinking. And it was true - at least from his voice. He sounded old and young at the same time, gentlemanly and dangerous in the same second and caring and ruthless in one instant.

"Let me tell you why I've summoned you," he continued, "It has been brought to my knowledge that there is a spy in our factory."
"A spy!" his companion sounded horrified, her voice squeaking like a mouse's.
"To be more accurate, an investigator from Primultimus. These pendragons would do anything to have us closed. They've been interested in the fishynk affair. Their spy is no doubt gathering information at this very moment."
"That is just terrible, Director!"
A pause. The Chelsey continued, sounding a little unsure.
"But I still don't understand why you sent for me."
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