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Red Jenny And The Not So Empty House [Complete]

Celeste Monroe

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#21
Celeste didn’t give much thought to animals as a rule. She wasn’t mean to them – unless she and the Thing were engaged in one of their priodic skirmishes, and since the furry bastard gave as good as he got, that didn’t count. She just wasn’t a pet person. Being nice to the weasel didn’t cost her anything, however, and visibly settled Adelaide even further.

That ended quickly when Celeste suggested pranking her brother. Word from the Jennies’ source said that Stirling Orland was a royal prig, but the stark fear that washed uncontrolled over the girl’s pretty features suggested something worse. “Could we do something in such a way that he would have to blame himself for it?” she asked timidly. “He is very unkind to the servants, and there have been…happenings, in the past, with those who have greatly upset him.”

Celeste studied her for a moment, nodded slowly. “I can arrange that,” she assured the girl. “Has he hurt you, little one?” she asked quietly. There was a cure for that, and Celeste would make damn good and certain that Stirling knew just who had greatly upset him. He was welcome to try to arrange a ‘happening’ with her.
 

Adelaide Orland

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#22
Celeste just looked at her for a long moment, and Addie busied her hands by stroking Ilya’s back, hoping that the other woman would have a reply to the affirmative. Getting something over on Sterling would be really, really good, but not if it meant that somebody else paid for her fun. She let out a breath of relief as Celeste confirmed that it could work, which quickly became a gasp of surprise after Celeste’s next question. “Has he hurt you, little one?”

Addie shook her head. “Not with his fists. He can…say quite hurtful things, sometimes. And when I was younger he punished me for embarrassing him in front of his friends by having one of my maids beaten in my stead.” She would rather have taken every last one of those blows for herself, but that had been Sterling’s cruel genius; even though he had little idea of the extent to which she railed against her position, he knew that she cared enough about other people that it was far worse for her to see them suffer. Addie looked at the floor, ashamed that she had mentioned it at all – this was supposed to be interesting and fun, not actually dangerous – but better that than having to go through it again. “She was sent away shortly afterwards. I liked her.”

She pulled herself together. That had been some time ago, a year after Edwin’s departure, when she had still felt just safe enough to occasionally express her own opinions. After that event, she had taken the lesson to heart and everything else had stayed tightly folded within. Now, at least, she could let it unfurl a little. And she was intrigued to see what Celeste might come up with given the limitations within which they had to work.

“So…what shall we do to him?”
 

Celeste Monroe

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#23
Adelaide shook her head in denial when Celeste asked if her brother had hurt her. “Not with his fists,” she replied, her pretty features set into a look of remembered pain that indicated he had indeed hurt her, fists or no. “He can…say quite hurtful things, sometimes. And when I was younger he punished me for embarrassing him in front of his friends by having one of my maids beaten in my stead.”

Celeste nodded her understanding as the girl went on, “She was sent away shortly afterwards. I liked her.”

“Which was why she was sent away,” Celeste concluded, mentally making adjustments to her plans. Pranking prigs was all good fun, but when it brought harm to the ones they were supposed to be standing up for -

Adelaide was watching her expectantly, petting her ferret. “So…what shall we do to him?”

“Have you ever heard of rashvine nettle?” Celeste asked her, slipping the double-wrapped parchment envelope from a pocket briefly to show her apprentice in mayhem before slipping it back in again. “The powder made from the nettles would raise a rash on a rock, and the only thing that will cure the sting and swelling is vinegar … after it burns like fire. You only handle it wearing gloves, and you burn the gloves afterward.

“Normally, I'd sprinkle the whole lot in his underwear drawer. It's almost invisible, nearly impossible to get out, and it usually takes people at least a week to figure out what's going on. Treating a single pair will make him miserable for a couple of days, but shouldn't come back on anyone. But I'll promise you this, little one.”
She placed two fingers under the girl's chin, making sure the blue-grey eyes met her. “I will find a way to get back at him, away from here, so that he can't blame anybody under this roof.”

“Now.” She pushed away from the counter. “I'm guessing his rooms are upstairs? We'll head up there last. Can you show me your father's study? Lots of fun to be done in there.”
 

Adelaide Orland

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#24
“Which was why she was sent away.”

Addie nodded. It had never been stated, but she had tried her very best to intervene in the punishment and had been held back by one of the guards. The horror of the moment refreshed itself in her dreams every few months or so. They had to avoid dropping suspicion on anybody else, and Addie herself couldn’t think of a way to do it. She asked Celeste for her advice.

“Have you ever heard of rashvine nettle?”

“Yes, although I’ve never had the poor fortune to encounter it myself."

“The powder made from the nettles would raise a rash on a rock, and the only thing that will cure the sting and swelling is vinegar … after it burns like fire. You only handle it wearing gloves, and you burn the gloves afterward.” That sounded quite intense, and Addie might have only known Celeste for a matter of minutes, but she didn’t want her getting hurt on her behalf.

“Normally, I'd sprinkle the whole lot in his underwear drawer. It's almost invisible, nearly impossible to get out, and it usually takes people at least a week to figure out what's going on. Treating a single pair will make him miserable for a couple of days, but shouldn't come back on anyone. But I'll promise you this, little one.”

She pressed two fingers under Addie’s chin, a move that made Addie flush as far down as her navel as she met the other woman’s eyes. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, she realised she quite like being referred to as ‘little one.’ “I will find a way to get back at him, away from here, so that he can't blame anybody under this roof.”

Relief sighed through Addie, and she touched the other woman’s wrist. “Thank you.” She would keep an eye open for any usual occurrences in Sterling’s life from now on; hopefully there would be some entertainment to be had in the future.

“Now. I'm guessing his rooms are upstairs? We'll head up there last. Can you show me your father's study? Lots of fun to be done in there.”

Now she was more relaxed about that. So many people passed through Father’s study in the course of a day it would be nearly impossible for him to pin any unusual events on a particular person. She eased into a smile. “Of course. Follow me.”

She quickly set up a small bowl for Ilya to eat from, and then left the ferret in the kitchen before leading Celeste up a flight of stairs in the direction of her father’s study. She stepped quietly, long practice of slipping out of her room at night allowing her to avoid the creaks in the floorboards, and headed towards the door with the Orland sigil carved into the woodwork. No guards on patrol here, either.

“You knew exactly when to come to avoid trouble,” Addie wondered aloud, less accusing than curious. “Could it have been somebody within the house who let you know when to come?”

She didn’t really expect a direct answer, given the likelihood of incriminating somebody, and tried the handle. The door didn’t move. She glanced back at Celeste. “It’s locked.”
 

Celeste Monroe

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#25
Even a simple touch was enough to spark an adorable blush that rolled from Adelaide's forehead downward, but the expression of relief that washed over the pretty features when Celeste promised to deal with her brother in a way that would not be linked to anyone in this house was profound.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her hand resting briefly on the sailor's wrist.

“Not a problem.” Adapting to changing situations was part of the challenge that Celeste enjoyed on these capers. Sterling would get his comeuppance, and everybody except Sterling would know it as such when it happened.

The girl responded to mention of her father's study with considerably more enthusiasm, a bright smile lighting her face. “Of course. Follow me.”

She set the ferret up with a bowl of food, then led the way up the stairs. Celeste watched with approval as she sought out the quiet spots on the boards and mirrored her steps, marking the path mentally against future need.

“You knew exactly when to come to avoid trouble,” she remarked, studying Celeste thoughtfully. “Could it have been somebody within the house who let you know when to come?”

“I don't know,” Celeste told her honestly. That the Jennies trusted the source had been enough for you. “And it's best that you not try to find out. Best for everyone.” No matter how kindly disposed the servants might be toward the girl, the threat of exposure could result in somebody doing something desperate.

Adelaide led her to an impressively carved mahogany door, the bronze of its fixtures gleaming gently in the dim light of the lamps on the wall. “It's locked,” she reported, jiggling the handle.

“Figures.” Unconcerned, Celeste slipped her lockpicks from yet another pocket. “I'm guessing your tutors don't cover this?” she asked with a wink as she settled into a crouch. “Set the tensioner like this ...” she murmured as she slipped the thin metal strip into position, angling herself so that Adelaide could see. “Use the pick to test the pins. Takes practice.” She closed her eyes, envisioning the design that the subtle vibrations along the pick were revealing. “Five pins. Use the pick to move them.” Not the easiest lock she'd ever encountered, but far from the most difficult. Like most nobles, Barrett Orland put more importance on appearances than function. A few deft movements engaged the pins one after the other, and a bit of pressure on the tension bar did the rest. “Done,” she announced as the lock released with a click, tucking the tools back into their pouch and stashing them away.
 

Adelaide Orland

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#26
Celeste didn’t know. Addie got the impression that even if she did, she wouldn’t tell her, which was understandable. “And it's best that you not try to find out. Best for everyone.”

Addie nodded. It wasn’t like anybody had arranged for the Orlands to be hurt, just minorly inconvenienced. She hadn’t forgotten the detail that whoever had arranged this had asked for her to be left out of it, if possible. Somewhere, she had a friend. She wasn’t inclined to rock that boat.

They reached the door and to Addie’s disappointment, it was locked. Celeste was less concerned. “Figures.” She pulled something from her pocket. “I’m guessing your tutors don’t cover this?”

Celeste settled into a crouch by the door, and Addie saw a strip of metal gleaming in her fingers. Addie crouched beside her. She knew that lockpicking existed, of course, but she had always thought it might take more than those flimsy metal strands. “Set the tensioner like this…” Celeste slipped the strip into the lock, and closed her eyes. For a moment Addie watched her face, fascinated by the scars she saw and the row of gold glinting along her ear, but her attention was quickly taken back to the lock as Celeste continued her instruction. “Use the pick to test the pins. Takes practice. Five pins. Use the pick to move them.”

Addie watched intently as Celeste did so. Of course, she had never officially been under lock and key. Not so long as she played the part of obedient daughter. She lived in permanent fear of Father finding out how she really felt and the degree to which she interfered in his carefully-laid plans for using her betrothal in order to advance Orland interests, however, and the day might come when she needed to know this. She held her breath until Celeste finished twitching the tensioner and pick in the lock.

“Done.”

“That is amazing.” Addie breathed the words as she reached for the handle and the door came open easily. “How could I get some of those? I don’t think I could send out to the marketplace for some without raising questions, and Father doesn’t allow me to hold my own coin so I can get it myself.”

She’d had a twinge of reservation about interfering with Father’s study, just out of habit, but that dissolved quickly. Sometimes, when she was alone or practicing or reading, she forgot how much of her life formed a cage, and sometimes she became so aware of it she thought she could almost feel it crushing in on her. When she turned to Celeste, it was with an eager smile. “Where should we start?”
 

Celeste Monroe

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#27
Adelaide crouched beside Celeste, watching raptly as she demonstrated the fine art of lockpicking. When the lock gave way, the pretty face lit up as though she'd just seen magic.

“That is amazing,” she exclaimed, opening the door and flitting into the room. “How could I get some of those? I don’t think I could send out to the marketplace for some without raising questions, and Father doesn’t allow me to hold my own coin so I can get it myself.”

“I could get you a set,” Celeste offered as she closed the door behind them and engaged the lock from the inside. “I'll be in Kirkwall for a few more weeks yet. I could sneak in again and give you some lessons, if you want.” It wouldn't cost her anything, really, and it might give the girl a hole card when Daddy decided to get serious about marrying her off.

She glanced around the room, turned to Celeste with an anticipatory smile. “Where should we start?” she wanted to know.

“Where they will.” Celeste crossed the room to the luxuriously padded armchairs by the fireplace and the cart laden with bottles and carafes of wine and spirits. Another pocket, another surprise, this one a green glass bottle with a stopper, carefully wrapped in wool.

“Daxillon Belzer's Fantastic Flatulence Formula,” she intoned with the appropriate level of erudition as she unwrapped the bottle and held it up, then grinned. “Also known as fart juice.” She opened a carafe of red wine, added a few drops. “It works fast. Five minutes after drinking, the burping starts. Five minutes after that, it reaches the other end, and things get really fun.” She worked her way around the tray: wine, whiskey, vodka, rum. “A few more drops,” she went on, adding said extra drops to a bottle of oak-aged Cumberland single malt, “and you get squirts along with gas. The perfect end to any big deal."
 

Adelaide Orland

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#28
“I could get you a set.” Addie’s eyes widened. She was used to presents, the little things Father and occasionally Mother arranged for her when they felt that she was wanting in something – makeup, a fashionable hairpiece, the latest style in personal decoration – but rarely was it something she actually wanted. It was only ever to make her shine a little more brightly and dazzle the right people. “I’ll be in Kirkwall for a few more weeks yet. I could sneak in again and give you some lessons, if you want.”

“Yes!” Addie quickly lowered her voice and looked around, but nobody had come bursting through any of the doors. “Yes, please. I’d really like that.” Learning to pick locks would be useful, and also…cool. She didn’t know how else Celeste might sneak in – maybe come up to her room at night and show her in there?

The thought made her ears turn red. As did the thought that she’d like to impress Josc by showing her what she’d learned. A lot of her thoughts revolved around Josc these days.

This evening had shifted them a bit, and she focused on the task at hand. Celeste indicated the large chairs with the fine array of alcohol set on a table between them, before producing yet another vial. Addie was surprised that the woman didn’t clink every time she took a step. She eyed the green bottle curiously.

“Daxillon Belzer's Fantastic Flatulence Formula.” Celeste announced this like a sommelier producing a bottle of rare wine from a cellar, and then she grinned. Addie stared at it, fully aware what ‘flatulence’ meant but… “also known as fart juice.”

Ah, there was no other meaning, then. Addie muffled giggles behind her fingertips. The idea of solemn, serious Father, unable to prevent himself from a series of inelegant parping noises, brought tears to her eyes.

“It works fast. Five minutes after drinking, the burping starts. Five minutes after that, it reaches the other end, and things get really fun.”

“Why does that even exist?” Addie managed to speak through gulping laughter. “And have an official merchandising name? Is it that popular?”

“A few more drops.” Celeste had added some to almost every bottle in the study. “And you get squirts along with gas. The perfect end to any big deal.”

Addie had never really understood the phrase ‘beside herself with joy’ before, but she was experiencing it now. She wasn’t a malicious person and she didn’t like seeing people suffer, but if anybody deserved to have their own self-importance deflated (with appropriate sound effects), it was Father. She bounced on her toes a little, grinning, trying not to make a noise that would attract attention.

“I’m so, so glad I ran into you.” Her face shone with earnestness. “To think my plans for this evening only involved a snack and a book until now.” She tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. “I hate to impose, but…when you bring me the locks, could I give you some money to get me a bottle of that as well? I can think of a few people who would benefit from it. Or their servants would enjoy the show, anyway.”
 

Celeste Monroe

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#29
“Yes!” Adelaide replied eagerly – and a bit loudly – to Celeste's offer of a set of lock picks and tutelage. She caught herself, glancing at the door with a chagrined expression, then went on in a lower voice, blushing to the ears at her own boldness, “Yes, please. I’d really like that.”

Another time, in another mood, Celeste might have been tempted to see just how much she could make that pretty face blush, but while this girl was close to the age she had been when Daniel had whisked her away from her father, there was an innocence to Adelaide that Celeste had been well beyond at that age, and she needed to learn a few useful life skills more than she needed to learn about the birds and the bees.

“Show me which bedroom is yours before I leave,” Celeste told her, “and leave a window unlocked at night. I'll surprise you,” she added with a grin and a wink, fairly sure that would get another blush. Two birds with one stone.

The word 'fart' had its usual effect, and Adelaide covered her mouth with a hand to stifle her giggles as Celeste spiked bottle after bottle with Belzer's specialty.

“Why does that even exist?”
the girl asked, her voice hitching with laughter, “And have an official merchandising name? Is it that popular?”

“In certain circles,” Celeste replied. Dax pulled in a tidy sum of coin keeping the Friends of Red Jenny supplied, though he was the only one who generally referred to it by its grandiose title. Many tries had been made to duplicate his formula, but nobody had yet been able to match the consistency of his results. Five drops caused belching, ten added flatulence, fifteen brought diarrhea. “Pretty much everybody just calls it 'fart juice'. As to why ...” she shrugged and grinned. “Why not?”

The girl was all but vibrating in place when Celeste finished treating the libations, a delighted smile on her face. “I’m so, so glad I ran into you,” she said eagerly. “To think my plans for this evening only involved a snack and a book until now.”

Celeste chuckled. “Well, you've made my evening more interesting, as well, so we're even on that score.” Pranking prigs was always entertaining, but surprises of any kind were just icing on the cake, and good surprises even more so.

She brushed an errant lock of hair behind one ear. “I hate to impose,” she began hesitantly, “but…when you bring me the locks, could I give you some money to get me a bottle of that as well? I can think of a few people who would benefit from it. Or their servants would enjoy the show, anyway.”

“No imposition at all,” Celeste assured her, settling in the luxuriously padded leather chair behind the monstrous desk that served as the phallic compensation for those who wielded quills more readily than oversized swords, “but why don't we let Daddy pay for it?” The desktop was meticulously clean and organized, the inkwell and quill stand arranged with military precision on the blotter, and – Celeste picked the lock on the top right drawer, slid it open to reveal the glimmer of gold and silver – like most prigs, Barrett Orland liked to keep a reminder of his wealth close at hand.

“This should cover the fart juice,” Celeste told her, plucking out three silver pieces, “and this should help reimburse the folk that have been screwed out of their wages by their rent.” She selected several sovereigns and silvers, keeping an eye on the mix.

“I'll convert it to silver and copper,” she told Adelaide. “You give someone living in Lowtown a gold piece, they'll have their throat cut within an hour. The trick to stealing,” she went on, “is figuring out how much won't be missed, and taking only that much. Do that, and you can hit the same targets as many times as you like without drawing attention or having to leave town in a hurry.” A polished wooden box was set into a compartment at the front of the drawer; opening it revealed the Orland seal and several sticks of wax.

“I can make a copy of this,” she offered, taking the seal out and holding it up for Adelaide to see, “but you'd have to be damn careful about using it. Emergency only … like authorizing passage for you on a ship if he arranges for you to be married to somebody you're afraid of. Use it once, maybe twice, then throw it into the harbor.” She held Adelaide's gaze, all traces of mirth gone from her expression. What she was proposing could get the girl into serious trouble if she were caught, but the Wicked Grace would be leaving Kirkwall in a few weeks, and her instincts told her that nothing good would come to Adelaide from any match that her father and brother arranged. She might have to save herself, and she'd need some tools to do it.
 

Adelaide Orland

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#30
“Show me which room is yours before I leave.” Celeste grinned at her. “And leave a window unlocked at night. I’ll surprise you.”

As was doubtless the woman’s intent, Addie flushed red again. That Celeste would not be the first to do so didn’t matter – even with all that Josc had shown her, Addie remained as relatively innocent to some things as it was possible to be while sneaking romance novels back to her room. Even a suggestion of somebody sneaking into her chambers at night still brought colour to her face.

The distraction of the ‘fart juice’ didn’t help, but it did cause giggles. Still chuckling, she thanked Celeste for the help she had given, stating how grateful she was, and then screwed up her courage to ask for a further favour. Spiking Father’s whisky with the farting solution when he had been particularly callous or cold wouldn’t actually help anybody, but it would certainly make her feel better.

And, if she was really short on excuses to escape a social event she desperately wanted to avoid, she could add a small dose of that to the other remedies Celeste had suggested. No matter how furious Father and Sterling might be at her for it, they would never bring along somebody who was obviously suffering from unbridled bouts of flatulence.

Celeste assured her that the juice would be no problem to provide. “But why don’t we let Daddy pay for it?” She stepped around the desk and put her hand right on the drawer that hid a small pile of coins that Father kept to hand for quick payments, when he could be induced to give them. The sight made Addie suddenly very nervous. Father kept a tight leash on his money. If he noticed anything was missing, there would be questions.

Celeste seemed less concerned about it. She took enough to cover the juice, which was small enough, but then scooped out a few sovereigns as well, explaining that the money would go to people struggling to get by. Admirably, but where would Father look if he realised the coin was gone? “That’s a good idea, but…he might notice…”

“The trick to stealing, is figuring out how much won't be missed, and taking only that much. Do that, and you can hit the same targets as many times as you like without drawing attention or having to leave town in a hurry.”

She sounded so cavalier about it that Addie could only assume Celeste had had to do just that at some point. She was about to ask if she had when Celeste opened a box within the drawer, revealing the seal that Father used to mark his missives.

“I can make a copy of this, but you'd have to be damn careful about using it. Emergency only … like authorizing passage for you on a ship if he arranges for you to be married to somebody you're afraid of. Use it once, maybe twice, then throw it into the harbor.”

Addie had no doubts at all that Father would marry her off to a bear if the bear came with a lucrative enough business arrangement, and would not much care what happened to her afterwards. He would avoid anybody stupid enough to have an openly bad reputation about how they treated those around them, but beyond that? She would be lucky if he chose somebody who was nice to her. She nodded, all traces of a smile gone. “Please. I hope I wouldn’t have to use it, but…it is better safe than sorry.”

They were probably done in the study. Addie indicated the corridor with a tip of her head, rubbing one arm as she did so. “Shall I show you my room now? There is a trellis outside the balcony, so it should be easy for you to climb down and skirt around the patrols – unless there was more you wanted to do?”

She didn’t really want Celeste to go, at all, but the longer she stayed the more she risked getting caught, and that thought was enough to turn Addie’s stomach cold.
 

Celeste Monroe

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#31
All traces of mirth vanished from the pretty face as Adelaide regarded the seal that Celeste held, considering her offer. “Please. I hope I wouldn’t have to use it, but…it is better safe than sorry.”

No hint at all of any glee at the prospect of using it to create mayhem in any of the other myriad uses it could be put to, which underscored just how fearful the young woman was for her future. Celeste nodded and worked swiftly, lighting the candle kept with the seal, dripping a blob of wax onto a scrap of parchment and pressing the seal into it. Torgun could use the impression to create a replica using lost wax casting. Setting it aside to harden, Celeste returned everything to the drawer, closed and locked it once more. “It'll take a few days before it's done,” she told the girl.

“Shall I show you my room now?” Adelaide asked her nervously, clearly aware that the passing of time increased the risk of discovery. “There is a trellis outside the balcony, so it should be easy for you to climb down and skirt around the patrols – unless there was more you wanted to do?”

“I could think of a few things,” Celeste told her with a wink and a smile, mostly to get another of those adorable blushes, “but one in particular.” Swinging out of the chair, she scooped up the inkwell that sat on the desk corner and carried it to the fireplace, emptying the contents into the ashes and using the poker to cover it over. “Disappearing ink,” she explained as she pulled yet another bottle from yet another pocket (she did love this vest). “Because nothing will drive a businessman crazy faster than signatures vanishing from documents.” She refilled it carefully, capped it and returned it to its place. “It fades away completely about two hours after it dries. Just enough time for the messenger to be well away with it.”

“Now.” She tucked her bottle away. “Unless you've got someplace else that needs my attention, you can take me to your room.” She wasn't going to press on putting the itching powder in big brother's skivvies, but she was definitely going to have to track the bastard down away from here.
 

Adelaide Orland

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#32
Celeste shared Josc's ability to make Addie blush with only a look and a suggestive comment. In this case the look was a wink and the comment was about other things she’d like to do, and even after quite a few – dates? – with Josc, Addie’s ability to affect nonchalance when sent off-kilter by a pretty woman remained non-existent. It didn’t help that Celeste was helping out with something that might secure her freedom one day. Addie was immensely grateful towards the other woman, and it was apparently manifesting in being absolutely useless around her.

Thankfully the moment was glossed over by one last prank. Disappearing signatures could cause a world of chaos, even more than forged ones. Celeste capped the bottle and set it back on Father’s desk. “It fades away completely about two hours after it dries. Just enough time for the messenger to be well away with it.”

Addie grinned. At best, it would be seen as an oversight, which would still infuriate Father – he detested anybody thinking he might be less than attentive to every detail. At worst, it would be considered an outright snub and land him in trouble. While Addie didn’t want to actually see him hurt, because she didn’t want to see anybody hurt, it would do him good to be uncomfortable once in a while.

“Now.” Celeste made the bottle vanish somewhere into her vest, which was far more capacious than it appeared to be. “Unless you’ve got someplace else that needs my attention, you can take me to your room.”

“I think that will be enough to sow some chaos.” By no small means. The issues with the food, the runs from the drinks, and disappearing signatures would be enough to severely test Father’s patience and provide Addie with a little much-needed entertainment. Of course Father would suspect her, as he would suspect anybody else in the estate, but he wouldn’t be able to prove anything and that was key. Nobody else would suffer but him and, to a lesser extent, Sterling.

And now she had ways to wiggle out of polite walks with rich merchant or noble sons for a while. This evening couldn’t have gone much better if she’d managed to walk out of the front door and into independence altogether.

She led Celeste back to her room, closing the door behind them and gesturing towards the balcony. “That’s the way out.” She hesitated – manners cost nothing, and if her parents and Sterling had had no other impression on her, she hated to think that others might find her wanting in them. “I have some wine in here, if you want some before you leave? I don’t really have anything else I can thank you with.”
 

Celeste Monroe

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#33
Adelaide was quick to see the potential in vanishing ink where her father's business dealings were concerned. Smart girl … something that Barrett Orland likely had no idea about, or – more likely – considered an undesirable quality. If she were plain in appearance, she'd likely have been given over to the Chantry, but her beauty guaranteed that she would be useful to her father in securing a good marriage. Odds were, her husband would be of a similar opinion regarding intelligence in the female of the species, meaning that all signs of it would either be ignored or beaten out of her.

The girl had to be itching for some payback, but she clearly understood the advantages of restraint (something that Celeste herself didn't always heed), and declined when the sailor offered to inflict further mayhem. “I think that will be enough to sow some chaos,” she observed, looking most pleased at the prospect before leading the way back to a bedchamber that screamed 'nobleman's daughter', canopy bed, lacy ruffled curtains, mirrored vanity and all.

“That’s the way out.” Adelaide indicated a window leading out to a small balcony, though she looked reluctant to have Celeste actually take her leave. “I have some wine in here, if you want some before you leave?” she offered hesitantly. “I don’t really have anything else I can thank you with.”

“No thanks needed,”
Celeste assured her with a smile. “This has been a more entertaining evening than I've had in a while.” Not counting her little adventure on the Grand Cleric's balcony two nights ago, but that was a different kind of entertaining. “But wine is always welcome.”

Seating herself at the vanity, she glanced around the room. “Quite the guilded cage you've got here,” she remarked casually, her gaze coming back to rest on the cage's pretty bird. “If you could do anything you wanted, anything at all, what would it be?” She was willing to bet her ship that 'marry a rich man and host dinner parties' would not be a part of the answer.
 

Adelaide Orland

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#34
Celeste turned down the thanks, but not the wine, and Addie poured her out a generous glass. “I can’t imagine your life lacks for entertainment, if this is what you get paid to do. It must be really satisfying, carrying out pranks against people who think themselves above everyone.” Not that Addie was jealous. She had enjoyed bringing some small vengeance against Father, but she probably would not be good enough to do it to other people on a regular basis. Still, she envied the other woman her freedom.

Celeste had settled herself at the vanity, and once again cut to the heart of matters. “Quite the guilded cage you’ve got here.” She wasn’t wrong. It was a pretty room, decorated with frills and tapestries and gleaming wood. Expensive enough to never let it be forgotten how well-off the Orlands were. Addie had been allowed a modicum of input on the fittings, but most of it had been installed by Mother long ago. She thought she might like it much better were it in any other house in Kirkwall.

As she entertained that thought, Celeste startled her again. “If you could do anything you wanted, anything at all, what would it be?”

It wasn’t the first time somebody had asked Addie what she wanted. Eddie had asked her when handing down pastries she couldn’t reach as a toddler. Servants had asked her what dresses, what decorations, what wines she wanted for an event. But she couldn’t remember anybody asking her what she actually wanted to do with her life, and that was implicit in Celeste’s question. It caught her off guard enough that she didn’t actually have an answer for a few moments.

“Well I…I do know I want to help people. I can’t even give coins to people on the street, my maid holds my purse for me and accounts for every copper back to Father. Although she’s helping me sell some embroidery, and I give part of that away, although I wish I could do more.”

Addie chewed her lip for a moment. She did genuinely want to do that, but there was something else she wanted to do, if she could. “Wait a moment.”

Sketching was also considered a desirable skill in a young noblewoman, so enticing lessons from Father hadn’t been too hard. Slightly more difficult had been sneaking the pencil lead and parchment from his study. The sheaves were pressed together between two large books, almost entirely hidden from view on her bookcase, and she pulled them out to show Celeste. “I’ve never shown anybody these before.”

The papers were covered in designs for houses. Ground plans, elevations, measurements, calculations, even the cost of materials – she had learned enough about keeping a house to have a reasonable guess at the prices. They weren’t grand houses. Most were small, but efficiently designed enough that a family could make a home there without stepping on each other. A number were multi-storey, based on the towering slums she had briefly seen when passing through Lowtown. “I like doing this. I’d – really like to see one of these in real life. One day.”
 

Celeste Monroe

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#35
“I can’t imagine your life lacks for entertainment, if this is what you get paid to do,” Adelaide observed as she poured wine from a crystal decanter into a glass. “It must be really satisfying, carrying out pranks against people who think themselves above everyone.”

“It is,” Celeste agreed readily, taking a sip of the wine and nodding approval. Orlesian: Verchiel from the cherry and oak undertones. Sweet enough for a young palate without being cloying. “But what's really satisfying is being able to do what I want to do.” That wasn't completely true. She was bound to the Wicked Grace and her crew; she couldn't just go haring off on a whim. But those bonds were of her own choosing, and she would not trade them.

Adelaide had not chosen her lot in life, would not be given any choice in her future, and had likely been raised to never question that fact. Celeste had given her a glimpse tonight of how much fun a bit of rebellion could be, but she found herself wanting to do more for the girl. The question she asked her was one that she had asked others. So many people plodded through life doing what was expected of them, never letting themselves even consider other possibilities. And like everyone else she had asked, the question took Adelaide by surprise.

After a few moments, the girl found her voice. “Well I…I do know I want to help people,” she began uncertainly. “I can’t even give coins to people on the street, my maid holds my purse for me and accounts for every copper back to Father. Although she’s helping me sell some embroidery, and I give part of that away, although I wish I could do more.” She broke off, teeth worrying delicately at the swell of her lower lip. “Wait a moment.”

Celeste nodded, watching as the girl went to a bookshelf and slipped several sheets of parchment from between the books. “I’ve never shown anybody these before,” she said, returning and holding out the paper.

Celeste took them, examining the sketches with surprise and growing interest. Not dresses or horses. Houses. Plans for houses, actually, laid out in detail. And not mansions, but humble dwellings with just a few carefully arranged rooms, some on multiple levels arranged to be built in tight quarters.

“I like doing this,”
Adelaide told her shyly. “I’d – really like to see one of these in real life. One day.”

“These are good.” Celeste leafed through them slowly. “Damn good.” She looked up, meeting the girl's anxious gaze. “Can I take one of these?” She was no architect, but Torgun would be able to confirm her suspicions that these plans were quite executable, and might well know someone who would be able to do it. And Celeste had an idea or two about financial backing. “You taught yourself, didn't you?” Barrett Orland was not the type to have paid for his daughter to take drafting lessons, and certainly wouldn't have approved of her using those lessons to design homes for the poor.
 

Adelaide Orland

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#36
Addie felt silly, talking about wanting to help people. It was true, but it wasn’t much different from what other young girls of her class might say. She had met many people who spoke confidently of the things that could be done to help the poor and downtrodden, and continued to speak while doing absolutely nothing. She wasn’t much better than them, although she didn’t know if most of them had more lenient access to money than she did. She decided not to go further into that. Instead, she opted to share the pictures that she hadn’t even had an opportunity to show Josc yet. Her fingers shook as she handed the designs over. Nobody had ever seen these before, and she had no idea if they were just a flight of imagination or not.

“These are good.” Celeste took her time over the pictures. “Damn good.”

A warm glow spread through Addie from her face to her fingertips, and there was no hiding the silly grin that threatened to take over her entire face. She felt almost as giddy as she had the first time Josc had kissed her. She hugged her elbows in an effort to stop herself throwing her arms around Celeste, unsure how comfortable the other woman would be with such contact. Then Celeste floored her again. “Can I take one of these?”

“Huh? I…yes?” She wanted to keep one? She liked it that much? Addie didn’t really manage to contain the happy wriggle that accompanied that thought.

Before she could ask why Celeste might want to keep one of the drawings, Celeste had a question of her own. “You taught yourself, didn’t you?”

Addie nodded, but was reluctant to claim all the praise for herself. “Well. I pieced it together from other things I was taught. The cost of running a household, including potential repairs and renovations, and I was taught sketching and painting as ‘desirable skills for a young lady’. But I – did sneak some books from the library-” A library which was more for show than anything else –“and tried to learn from the descriptions. I still don’t know that much about loadbearing, or the best connection points for structural walls. But I’m really, really glad you think they’re good.”

She was blushing again, and quickly poured herself some more wine so she’d have something to do with her hands.
 

Celeste Monroe

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#37
The girl had received little real praise in her life; the way that she lit up in response to Celeste's approval of her drawings made that clear. She'd undoubtedly been told that she was pretty from her earliest years, and just as undoubtedly had every accomplishment that didn't fit into the mold of a proper young lady ignored or quashed. Celeste's request to take one of the sketches only increased her awe.

“Huh? I…yes?” she responded uncertainly, hugging herself and squirming like a puppy struggling to obey a 'stay' command with a slab of steak just out of reach.

“It's all right, Little One,” Celeste assured her with a faint smile. “We're alone here. Let it loose.” Seeing a so free a spirit so tightly constrained was annoying. Let the girl pirouette around the room or bounce on the bed, if she wished. “I'm not going to tell anyone.”

“I pieced it together from other things I was taught,” Adelaide clarified when Celeste remarked that she must have been self taught. Which was pretty much the same thing. “The cost of running a household, including potential repairs and renovations, and I was taught sketching and painting as ‘desirable skills for a young lady’. But I – did sneak some books from the library and tried to learn from the descriptions. I still don’t know that much about loadbearing, or the best connection points for structural walls. But I’m really, really glad you think they’re good.” Again the pretty blush, as though talking of her own achievements was cause for embarrassment, and she quickly snatched up the wine decanter and refilled her glass.

“They are good.” Even Celeste's limited familiarity with the subject matter could discern that, and a glimmering of an idea was stirring up, though nothing she wanted to raise the girl's hopes over just yet. Selecting one of the sketches, she rolled it up neatly and tucked it away in an inner pocket of her vest designed for just such conveyance. She finished her own wine and set the glass on the vanity. “I should go.” The notion of teaching her new acquaintance more than lockpicking and a few pranks was not an unwelcome one, but any dalliance would be unlikely to stay casual on Adelaide's part. The girl was hungry for affection, and Celeste wasn't about to take advantage of that. She did have some scruples.

Most likely stolen from somebody else at some point, but she had them.

“Don't forget to leave your window unlocked; I'll be back in a few nights with your lock picks and fart potion.” And possibly a few other things that might come in handy in helping this pretty bird break free from her gilded cage.
 

Adelaide Orland

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#38
Celeste saw straight through her attempt at restraint. “It’s all right, Little One. We’re alone here. Let it loose. I’m not going to tell anyone.”

Having permission didn’t quite break the habits of a lifetime, but it was enough for Addie to bounce up and down on her toes, beaming as she started explaining how she’d pieced it together. She didn’t want to bore the other woman, not at all, but she couldn’t help babbling a little. She’d never even spoken to Ria about this. As much as she got along with her maid, Ria was employed by Father, and although she’d gone along with Addie’s scheme of selling scraps of embroidery at the market, she didn’t know what Addie was even using the money for. The pair of them gossiped and giggled together over hair and pretty dresses, but in her heart of hearts, Addie knew she could never fully trust her.

It would make her more sad, if she wasn’t busy chattering away to Celeste right now. Apparently she’d had a lot more locked up inside than she thought, and a soft squeal escaped as Celeste once again confirmed that the drawings had merit. Celeste rolled up the drawing she’d selected and tucked it in her vest (it had so many pockets!), and finished her wine.

“I should go.”

Addie’s good mood quickly crumpled, although she knew that Celeste was right. She’d already risked a lot just continuing to talk to Addie, let alone take the time to cover some basic lockpicking and show her how to spike Father’s drinks. Besides, Celeste was quick to cheer her up. “Don’t forget to leave your window unlocked; I’ll be back in a few nights with your lock picks and fart potion.”

Addie would never have thought such words would make her so happy. Between Celeste, and the bloom of whatever it was she was sharing with Josc, the future had started to seem much more rosy of late. There was the promise of fun, but also of escape. Once she figured out what she could do once she left, she would be out of here before Father even realised she’d gone. Which might take him a couple of days, for all the attention he paid to her usually. “Thank you. So, so much.” She blushed. “I…look forward to it. Oh, and um? If you ever get a contract for Lady Hawke, get to know her first. I think you’d both get on, and she’s really nice. She’d probably help you with the pranks.”
 

Celeste Monroe

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#39
The girl didn't cut loose quite as much as Celeste had thought she might, but the sudden torrent of words made it pretty clear that even talking was a restricted activity for this child. Fortunately, the girl had talent, and Celeste had a notion that might offer her the chance to do more than dream of freedom.

Adelaide looked so crestfallen when she announced her intent to leave that Celeste almost reconsidered. But she also looked quite fetching in her modest dressing gown, with her bed only a few feet away. Celeste might not be a complete scoundrel, but she was much, much closer to that end of the spectrum than to sainthood. Definitely time to go, but she softened it with the promise of future visits and gifts that most noble girls would not have found appealing.

This one was something special, however, and the happy glow returned to her face, along with that cute blush. “Thank you. So, so much. I…look forward to it.”

“So do I.” Celeste enjoyed the unexpected; even when things turned sour, it was better than boredom, and this evening's surprise had turned out quite well indeed.

“Oh, and um?”
Celeste paused on the sill, looking back expectantly. “If you ever get a contract for Lady Hawke, get to know her first. I think you’d both get on, and she’s really nice. She’d probably help you with the pranks.”

Lady Hawke? Coincidences like this made it easy to believe that the Maker was repaying her for the entertainment she provided Him. “She already has,” she replied with a grin. “If you see her, tell her I said hello.” She paused, considering. “And if you get in real trouble, come find me at the docks. The Wicked Grace. She'll be easy enough to spot,” she added with a disgusted expression. “For the next month and a half, she'll likely be the only ship on the docks with no masts.”

Untying one of the green bandannas from her arm, she offered it to the girl. “If I'm not there, give this to whoever is on watch. They'll know what it means and they'll take care of you until I get back. Understand?” Men like Barrett Orland tended to react poorly when they found their control waning.
 

Adelaide Orland

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#40
Addie couldn’t remember having had a better night at home in a long time. Not even for the fact that she’d helped get one over on her overbearing father – she’d made a friend, and a friend she could trust absolutely, at that. The chances that Father would employ somebody who would go so deep into their cover that they’d mildly poison him were slim. Let alone teach her ways to extricate herself from trouble.

With that in mind, she referred to another of her friends. Or whatever it was she and Josc were. She had never asked for the other woman to place a name on it. She was too busy just being happy being around her. And bringing her up turned out to have been the right thing to do, as Celeste grinned. “If you see her, tell her I said hello. And if you get in real trouble, come find me at the docks. The Wicked Grace. She'll be easy enough to spot-” Celeste’s expression twisted for a moment – “For the next month and a half, she’ll likely be the only ship on the docks with no masts.”

Addie blinked. “I…okay?” She wanted to ask for more details, but the guards would be resuming their rounds soon and she really didn’t want Celeste to get in trouble. Plus, she wasn’t entirely sure that Ria didn’t check up on her in her sleep sometimes. She could ask the next time she saw Celeste – which hopefully wouldn’t be too long.

Celeste offered her a green bandana from her arm. “If I’m not here, give this to whoever is on watch. They'll know what it means and they'll take care of you until I get back. Understand?”

Addie nodded. “I will.” She smiled. Although the thought of being in such danger that she’d go down the trellis and try to bolt from the grounds by herself made her nervous, she did now have two safe havens where she could lay low if everything went wrong. “You’ve been so nice to me. Thank you, so much.”

A soft knock sounded at the door. “Lady Orland, are you all right? I can see a light under the door – you’re up very late.”

Addie dropped her voice to a whisper. “Ria. My handmaiden. I think she’s all right, but…I’m not sure. Don’t let her see you.”
 
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