1: The Distraction

Mind still on the scroll, Ela watched Theodosia Kartal intently.

Weakness in arms, poor grip, poor balance indicating leg weakness or proprioceptive difficulty. Unsure which. Pale, very pale - paler than before. Should be in bed. Certainly not in a corset. How she is managing to hold up those clothes...adrenaline? Can only be adrenaline - watch for a drop within the hour, be sure she has water not wine with dinner, green vegetables, a good source of protein - she needs to be - 

As the others spoke of...root vegetables, Ela shook her head slightly as if to clear it. The Lady Kartal was not her patient - or her lover. Ela would do well to remember that. Tightening her grip on the scroll, Ela spoke to appear engaged, her eyes meeting first Nehir's, then Kate's. Studying each woman in turn, her mind instinctively turned in on itself. Both women were perceptive - more so than usual. That she could tell immediately. Was either worthy of trust?

Instinctively suspicious of anyone who spoke with the same convictions she had, Ela absently wondered how far the similarities went. Nehir wanted Istanbul to progress, wanted to facilitate the sharing of knowledge - to what end? To what extent? How far was she willing to go? Her reason for seeing and trading for the scroll was a good response. But why, Ela wondered as her fingers gently traced the length of the scroll, was such an artifact placed in such a location? Surely it deserved to be more gazed upon, not less - unless the information therein was more critical and dangerous than suggested.

A test? Such similarities did not occur by coincidence... A text in a newly opened library on a floor ignored by scholars, held by the matriarch of an influential family seeking others to aid her in a quest to restore Istanbul to its former glory.

Zehra, a mystery worthy of your time.

And that, of course, was exactly why Theodosia was present. Romance, fantasy, adventure. All things it didn't seem the girl could have.

Not for long.

Not without help.

Ela cursed under her breath and wrenched her mind away, watching instead the creature who proclaimed her humanity. Cassandra stood looking between the speakers, and it was then that Ela noticed the young woman's fingers dextrously manipulating the ribbon. 

Between the "human" and Zeynep, the young lady was attended by some striking figures. Strange figures.  When Zeynep did speak, it was to proclaim their love for flowers, and yet a sword was belted to their hip and they seemed (indeed she had heard) that Zeynep was more than capable of using it to great effect.

And Kate. Of the company she was keeping this evening, she knew the least about the English Flower. She'd spent a great deal of their acquaintance mentioning those things she didn't like rather than those she did. The Flower made Ela decidedly uncomfortable, though she couldn't place why.

You spend too much time with machines and the dead, dearest. 

The candle was burning low, the shadows long, long on the walls. They sat close, very close. Almost touching.

The dead can't lie and I have yet to teach my automata to deceive. Besides, they're right here, reminding me of my goals. Others are a distraction.

And what of your needs?

I need my goals fulfilled. The sarcasm was somewhat wary, the topic of conversation expected.

An empty chuckle. You promised.

And I'm keeping that promise.

In name only. You speak only to those who can further your goals, and only of those goals, forgetting those who might fulfil your needs when those goals are achieved.

Silence as deep hazel eyes contemplated the candle burning down. This was not how she wanted to end this meeting. The other continued, aware but uncaring of the awkwardness.

Ihsan is away, Ela. You need friends, and sometimes you need to put the work down.

Deep brown eyes stared almost sadly into Ela's hazel ones, which flashed green in the candlelight as it whisped and sputtered. Finally, she sighed.

I'll try my best.

The candle burned out, plunging the room into darkness, leaving Ela alone.

***