A Million Sunsets

I'm going to finish this if it kills me!

2007-12-01T07:57:00.003-08:00

I"m very afraid that I've lost the plot. I think I may add some scenes, but this is what I have so far. Just this lifetime, and one more!

50

2007-12-01T07:56:00.000-08:00

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Natael whispered to Mide as the Selidians stood in the central auditorium of the town Hall. “Everyone will be here soon, and then there’s no going back. Are you sure you want to do this?”
Mide straightened her robes, and nodded. Her hair was piled on her head in the intricate braids of the ancient Suktisian fashion, and her face was painted with thick gold paint. “Do I want to do this? No. No, I have never wanted things to be this way. But what I want has little to do with what is. This land will burn, and in all our studies we have found no way to stop it. But our actions today can save many; if we perish, we perish. But I do not think that will be our fate. You’ve listened to my stories of my life as Madak too often. More likely, they will simply not listen. We are a curiousity, and I doubt we will be little more than that. They will come to see our quaint ways, and our painted faces, and marvel at our apocalyptic words, but they will not see the end until it is upon them.”
Natael smiled, as the first of the Kedonese began to file into the room. “And here I thought that I was the cynical one.”
The higher classes of Perzelsis quickly filled the room. There were several hundred men and women present, all attired in rich fabrics and brightly shining metal ornaments. Mide had tried to insist that some of the lower classes be present, but Heildon Maktsi refused adamantly. There were few enough of the nobles who could fit into the audience room, he explained, and when word got out that some of the rabble of the streets had got a space when nobles had been turned away, he would not be able to prevent an uproar. Mide had finally given in, but had sent two of her company to meet with some of the poorer people, to tell them as well.
After a little while, the nobles were all seated, and Heildon Maktsi stepped to the center of the room. “Good people of Perzelsis! Today is a historic day! For millennia, we have heard stories form our mothers and nurses of the fair folk of Suktis, who live alone on the islands at the edge of the world. We have fancied ourselves to be past the need for such bedtime stories, but today we have found that the stories are true. The fair folk have come, and they are here to speak to us. I present to you, Mide of the Selidians.” He bowed, and stepped backward, leaving the floor to Mide.
Jeda Maktsi could not take her eyes off the young woman in front of her. The afternoon sunlight glinted off Mide’s gilded face, and she stood with back arched gracefully, looking out at her audience.
“People of Kedon, you have heard of my people for tens of thousands of years, without seeing or hearing anything from us. We have kept our silence, making our penance for sins that you cannot now understand.
“You will not understand much of what we will tell you in our time with you. You will find us quaint, and think of our ideas as antiquated, even tribal, unevolved. But we will do what we have come to do.”
She paused, and looked out at the audience. Her heart sank as she saw the noble women whispering to each other behind folding metal fans, but she lifted her chin, and continued.
“In one year, perhaps two, your land will be in flames. Three great upheavals are coming upon you, and you are not strong enough to deal with them. One comes from the earth below your feet, another will come from among you, and the final one will come from the sea.
“We wish we could prevent these things, but there is nothing that ccan be done. Your world will die, and you way of life will be gone. There is only one hope for you. You must become yourselves. You must find out who you are, and you must become strong in that knowledge. When you are scattered to the four winds, you will take your world with you in your hearts and minds. “
A rumble of dissenion murmured through the room, as the people shifted in their seats. Mide held up a hand for silence. "I know that this is not what you wish to hear. What did you want us to say? Did you want us to be impressed with your bright machinery that fills the air with a choking haze and fills your streets with an ungodly clamour? Did you want us to become entranced with your factories and mills? We learned the laws of mechanics many years ago, and your ways are not new to us."

Natael stepped forward, and continued the speech, as Mide stepped back into the group. "We are not here to judge you. We want to help; we want to preserve as much of your culture as we can. We have several ways in which the preservation might be accomplished, but we will do nothing without your co-operation. Will you trust us?"

The question hung in the air for a moment, then a gentleman in the back of the crowd began to chuckle. In a few seconds, the entire crowd was laughing. The Lord Mayor looked uncomfortable, and glanced at Mide and Natael, shaking his head slightly.

The crowd began to disperse and soon Heildon Maktsi and the Selidians were left alone in the chamber.

"I told you that this would be the likely outcome," the Lord Mayor said. Mide nodded. "I know. But we had to try. And we will try other ways, as well. But it would have been wrong not to try to tell all your people. Some of my men and women are out among the poor as we speak; I think they will perhaps be more receptive. And your daughter, Lord Mayor, may be able to help, as well as Suka Loedi. We will not give up hope until the very end." Though she could not smile through the thick paint, her eyes sparkled. "If there is one thing that the children of Suktis know, it is that there is always a remnant. Lord Mayor, may we remain here for a little while? We would very much like to say some prayers for your people and lands."

Heildon Maktsi nodded. "Yes, I would appreciate your prayers very much, even if my countrymen do not. I will leave you in peace; you may find me in my office afterwards, and your carriage will be waiting in the usual place." He turned and exited the large stone room. He walked rapidly down the corridor, and shut himself in his office, locking the door behind him. He sat down at the large wooden desk, and rested his head in his hands.
______________________________

"Natael, why won't you tell me what will happen to Perzelsis? You all go around, talking about the coming destruction, 'destruction from the air, the land, and the sea,' but you won't tell anyone what will actually happen." Kedi spoke angrily to the young man who stood by her side in the garden.
"I wish I could tell you. I wish I could tell the whole city, believe me." The acolyte looked frustrated, and ran his hands through his hair, making it stand on end. "The hell of it is...I do not know what will happen. Or, to be more accurate, I do not know what causes the coming events. I know that there will be fire, and destruction, and that there will be nothing left of Kedon. I know that destruction will come from the air; I have seen the city lying in ruins; and I have seen the docks fortified against something coming from the sea. But I cannot see any of it."
Kedi studied him with her wide blue eyes. "They said you could see the future. Were you lying?"
Natael shook his head, and crossed his arms. "No, it's the truth. But I don't see everything in the future. It's like...It's like backward memory. Think about your life, the important dates. Think about....your last birthday. What do you remember?"
The young woman thought for a moment, and closed her eyes. "I remember....flowers, on my bedside table that morning. I remember that my corset pinched more than usual that morning, and I panicked because I thought I had gained weight during the night. I remember my friends sitting down to dinner, and Suka dropping her salad fork. She couldn't bend over in the corset, and a servant had to get it for her." She smiled, and opened her eyes.
"But those are odd things to remember, aren't they? You didn't mention any of the gifts you received, or even what order the events happened in. That's what my gift is like. I remember things that I haven't seen yet, but I don't see everything. I do not know what will happen to your people. All we know...all I know...is that everything that remains here wil be lost."
Kedi sat down on a metal bench to think. The day was warm and pleasant; she could hear cicadas singing in the trees, and the idea of wide spread destruction seemed impossible.
"I don't know what to think, Natael. Our astronomers watch the skies, our ships are strong and faster than anything on the seas, and it is hard to believe that anything could move the solid earth of our land. I have come to believe in many strange things, but this is more difficult."
"Please, I beg you, do not back out now. Just a few days ago, you were eager to come back to the Selides with us. "
Kedi sighed, then rose and began pacing the green lawn. "Yes, yes, I know. But a few days ago, I understood that you and your people knew what would happen here. Now that I see that even you are uncertain, I have no real reason to leave here." She paused, then raised her eyes to meet his. "However, the daughter of Heildon Maktsi does not go back on her word. I will continue to study and memorize as much of the Kedonese literature as I can, as you have asked. When I see signs that the destruction you promised is coming, then I will board one of the ships. That is what I can promise you."
Natael opened his mouth to protest, but saw that her will was resolved. "It is not what I had hoped, but perhaps it is all that I had any right to expect. Thank you for all that you are able to give." He bowed,. and took his leave.
____________________________________

"I wish I ha dbeen present when our distinguished visitors spoke in the Lord Mayor's hall," a woman's voice echoed slightly in the wide hall of the hotel. Mariok sat at the bar in the lobby, and listened to the conversations without much interest.
The woman continued, talking gaily with her companion while a waiter stood by, notepad in hand to take her order. "Oh dear, I am sorry, I didn't mean to make you wait. We will both have your wonderful fish platters, you know, the ones with the sauteed eels. Yes, and a glass of wine for each of us. Thank you, that will be all. So, Kepika, did you hear what the Selidians said? Oh you must have, it's been all over the streets for days! Apparently, they were not satisfied with making an announcement before the best of society, they even went into the streets and started talking to the destitute!" Her laughed sounded like fingernails on metal,and Mariok gritted his teeth, wishing that her meal would come quickly so that she would stop talking.
"Well, apparently they showed up in the most outlandish outfits, almost barbaric, you know, I don't think I've seen anything like that since the Astaldaki ambassador had that display of traditional dnacing from his country, but they were all dressed in white robes, and the leader of the group had her face painted with gold, so she looked like a statue. I've seen her walking to and from the Lord Mayor's hall once or twice, and she gives me the chills, I declare. So cold, so unfeeling! Anyway, apparently, they stood there, and after all this great uproar surrounding their appearance, what do they do? Proclaim some outrageous destruction, and say that we are all doomed!" Her laugh rang out again, and even the bartender cringed.
Mariok summoned him over, and handed him several large coins. "Please, send a drink to that lady's companion. I am fairly certain that she needs it."
The bartender smiled, and sent the drink with a passing waiter. He began drying some glasses and setting them on a shelf behind the bar. "I am sure the lady will appreciate your kind gesture, sir. And what is your opinion of the 'distinguished guests'?"
Mariok shrugged slightly, and got up from the bar. "I'm afraid that I haven't yet had the honor of meeting one of them. When I do, then I shall make up my mind. I have yet to meet anyone who takes their words seriously, but then, I rarely meet people awake enough to see what is going on around them, so perhaps they are right." He left a generous tip, and headed back out into the street.

49

2007-12-01T07:55:00.000-08:00

Suka stood under stars, looking up into the sky. She wasn't sure, but she felt as though she couldn't see as many of the stars now as she could when she was a child. Perhaps the lights of the city had grown brighter, or perhaps she merely remembered wrong.
She looked out on the eastern horizon, over the black waters. There seemed to be fewer stars there, all pale blue in color. A story flickered through her mind, about souls flying up to join the gods among the stars and she sighed.
The waves rolled in, crashing white on the sand; the foam almost seemed to glow in the moonlight. Suka's eyes widened slightly as she realized that there was a form in the surf, dressed in white, that seemed almost to blend into the water. Almost without being aware of it, she slipped down the sandy cliff that overlooked the beach, and fell ankle-deep into the sand, a few yards away from the white-robed figure. The woman who stood in the waves turned to look at Suka; her ginger hair was loose, and blew around her shoulders. A faint smile crossed her lips as their eyes met. "You never did like to jump into the sand, Tsuda."
Suka shyly returned the smile, and stepped toward the waves. "And you never could resist it."
There was a long moment when the entire world seemed to revolve around the two women, the waves, and the stars.
Then with a swiftness that surprised both of them, they embraced, tears streaming down Mide's face. "I have missed you, Tsuda," she whispered. "I have been without you for thirty years, and I was beginning to be afraid that I would never find you again."
"Mede.." replied Suka, pulling back slightly. "Are you even called Mede now?" She laughed, almost hiccuping with emotion.
"I am called Mide, in this life. And you?" Mide felt the ocean tugging at the hem of her robe, and turned to walk back up the beach. "Can you imagine, it has been several thousand years since we stood in the ocean together? The stars seem strange to me sometimes, I remember their old patterns, on the other side of the world."
The two young women sat down in the sand, backs against a dune, and looked up at the stars. "Me--Mide, do you still believe what you told me all those years ago?" Suka looked over at her friend. "About souls taking flight and going up to live with the gods as stars?"
Mide nodded. "I believe it now more than ever. I can remember more now than I did before. I remember Suktis, and Kedon as it was, and the islands of the Astaldi. I remember building the temple on that little island..."
Suka finished, "With the trees that Judak cut for us. You said the first blessings. I did not become a priestess until later, even though everyone remembers my life more than yours." She shivered in the chilly night air, and Mide sat up.
"It's cold out here, and your family will be wondering where you are. Go back to your house now, and I will send for you tomorrow." The light from the two moons made her teeth shine in the night, and Suka could see that she was smiling.

"But how will I explain this to your mother," Heildon Maktsi shouted, pacing in his daughter's sitting room. "That the Selidians want to see you, that they will likely ask you to be one of the few Kedonese to be taken to their lands. No-one knows when or even if you'll return."
Kedi sat on a small couch, quietly practicing her sketching. "I do not know. but I am not afraid to go. I trust them, and I want to go. I do not know how you will explain it to mother; she will not be pleased. She was very much looking forward to my presentation in society, but I suppose she will have to be content with the fact that the scandal of her daughter will make her very well known indeed." A faint smile crossed her father's lips, and Kedi set the sketch aside. She rose, and took her father's arm. "Truly, I am happy that they have asked for me. You know that it will likely be months before we set out, and mother will enjoy herself greatly when she realizes that I will need an entirely new wardrobe for my new role.”
Heildon nodded absently, and continued pacing. The Selidians had scheduled an audience with the people of Perzelsis in a few days’ time. He wondered what the response would be, and whether anyone would believe what the Selidians had to say.
He rubbed his forehead, and for a moment, wondered if he himself believed them.

Kedi looked out of the window of the mechanical carriage. Her mother had taken her into the town for the day to find a new dress, but she first wanted to stop by the Lord Mayor’s office, and speak to her husband. Ostensibly, Jedi Maktsi wanted to consult with her husband about an important party that she would be hosting for the Temaltan ambassador soon, but she only barely admitted to herself her real reason for visiting the town Hall that day: like everyone else in Perzelsis, she wanted to catch a glimpse of the Selidians who had arrived the day before. Only the Lord Mayor and one or two trusted stewards knew where they were staying, and few had yet spoken to them. Heildon had mentioned that he would be meeting with the newcomers several times over the next week, and Jeda hoped that they might be at the Hall when she stopped by.
Kedi waited in the carriage, also hoping to catch a glimpse of the newcomers. She had found several stories in her books about the fall of Suktis. The survivors had fled in all directions, with several parties landing in the Astaldak lands, ane one boat even purportedly making it to Kedon. Most of the survivors, it was agreed, had made their way to the Selides, and settled there, preserving their old ways and beliefs. One story had told of a sailor, the lone survivor of a shipwreck, who had washed ashore in the Selides, and been cared for by the people there. They told him that they were the inheritors of Suktis; they had honey-colored skin, and warm white hair, with purple eyes. They had built beautiful stone temples there, and many had joined with the native Selidians. They prayed for fallen Suktis, and kept themselves secret from the rest of the world. When the sailor was well, they took him onto one of their ships, and took him out into the waters near Kedon, and lethim into the water on a raft. He was instructed never to try to find the Selides again, and the raft was released into a current that would take him near the shore. When he landed on Kedon, he wept because he knew that he could never find the beautiful islands again. Kedi could picture the sailor living out his days on Kedon, and spending every evening looking out into the waters at sunset, longing to return.
As she imagined the poignant scene, she saw a flash of white out of the corner of her eye, and looked up. A small group of white-robed people were exiting the Hall by a side door; escorted by a steward, they made their way to a large carriage with shades drawn over the windows. She felt a shiver run down her spine; their skin was pale, and several of them had warm white hair. One of the group, a young man with reddish hair turned, and looked at her for a moment. As their eyes met, she felt that he was looking through her, and turned away.
When she looked back up, the door to the carriage was closing, and the mechanical vehicle pulled away from the curb with a jolt. Kedi watched it rumble down the street, and out of sight.
“What is it Natael,” Mide asked, seeing the acolyte pause just before entering the carriage. He climbed inside, and settled himself in the last empty seat.
“I don’t know. A girl was watching us from another carriage.”
“Well, that’s not unusal. We’ve been seen by a few people, despite the Lord Mayor’s precautions.”
“There was just something about her. She was obviously Kedonese, by her skin and hair, but her eyes were the brightest blue I’ve ever seen. I think she was an old soul, too, though I couldn’t be sure without getting a closer look at her eyes. She felt…” he thought for a moment, thin frame fidgeting as the carriage rocked along. “She felt blue,” he finished.
Mide looked at him carefully for a moment. “Blue eyes, you say? Hmmm. It is possible. I wonder why she is here…Perhaps she has more to learn than I thought. We are still looking for the one with purple eyes, though. I must find her before this world falls into flame. I do not even know if she is in this city, but this is where we must start. I can hardly believe her soul would come back here after last time, but perhaps she must learn to love these people again.”
Natael fingered the metal ornamentation that ran over the interior of the carriage. “How will we explain to them, about why we are here? They won’t believe much of it, and they will like it much less. No one wants to hear that their civilization will crumble soon. And they will never believe that we are searching for a girl you knew five thousand years ago, in another life.” He pulled the edge of a curtiain back and peered out of the window surreptitiously. “And they won’t believe me, either. As far as we know, no-one in Kedon has ever shown telepathic abilities, or synaesthetic senses. If I tell them that I have heard the cries of their people a year before there is any sign of danger, they will assume that we are either crazy or possessed.”
The woman laughed, and rose from her seat as the carriage came to a stop. “They do not believe in possession anymore, Natael. I do not think that they will accuse you of such a thing. And we don’t have to tell them how we found out about the cataclysm. What we must do is prepare, so that when the time comes, we can save as many as possible.”

48

2007-12-01T07:54:00.002-08:00

Nekel walked around the library, examining the titles. “I see very few history books here. Is there somewhere that can provide them? I need general history, specifically Astaldi, Kedonese, and Temaltan history. Most of my books were lost in the ocean when the storm hit; I may have to send to Temalta for those, but I’d like to get as many here as possible.”
The book dealer’s clerk looked up at the bookshelves, making notes on a lined pad. “I think we have a few titles that would interest you. We have the largest selection in this region, though I think the Southern Island might have one book dealer that handles more volume. We may even be able to work through them; it wouldn’t be cheap, but it would be far cheaper than shipping form Temalta, especially now, during the stormy season. The ships from the south sail close to the shore, and there is very little loss of property. Let me take these notes back to our store, and see what we can put together.”
Nekel nodded, and beckoned to one of the novices to show the man to the door. “Well, I thank you for your time. I look forward to dealing with your firm in the matter of these books.” The young man bowed, and left the room. The pale ambassador scanned the shelves again.
“It’s a shame that no-one thought to keep the house stocked with books. These focus too much on science, the arts, biographies of famous Kedonese men. None of these would interest anyone from Temalta,” muttered one of the novices, who stood on a ladder in the corner, cataloging the titles.
Gelek’s voice echoed off the stone floors. “Well, you can hardly blame them. Most Kedonese have never seen a Temaltan monk, and all of those have met them in travels overseas. We have not had a presence on Kedon in nearly ten thousand years, and that was when we were here as conquerors and judges. They know practically nothing of us. These books were a gesture of friendship, trying to tell us something of themselves.” The assistant to the ambassador walked into the large library, and looked around at the bookshelves. “It’s a good thing that they left plenty of space for your own books, Ambassador. I take it that you will need it.”
Nekel thumbed through a worn volume, and replaced it on the shelf. “Yes, I certainly will. How much do we have left in the treasury? I fear that I will need a great deal of it to purchase the volumes I need. “
“That’s what I came to speak with you about.” Gelek held out a small black book. “I did the inventories you wanted, and made note of all your accounts, both personal, and those that have been set up by Temalta for your official use. There is a good bit of money left, but you’ll need to be careful. I would recommend making careful investments here; perhaps in Amalgamated Kedonti, or one of the airship companies. I hear that soon the airships will be able to take ten or more passengers at a time, and that they will be a major form of transportation, and I do not think it is too far-fetched.” Gelek held out the account book for his employer to peruse, and turned to the bookshelf himself. “I have never seen a personal library this large. When I was training, the only library was the one at the temple, and it had perhaps half as many books. Most of what I learned was on the field, or from the mouths of the teachers themselves.” He seemed lost in reverie, but soon noticed Nekel’s eyes upon him, and smirked slightly. “I apologize, sir. I tend to drift off into tangents at times. Please, look over the account books and let me know how to invest the funds, and I will be happy to arrange it for you.”
He gave a slight bow, then turned on his heel, and left the room; several of the novices stared after him for a moment, then quietly returned to their work. Nekel pondered Gelek’s words. Rather unorthodox thoughts, for an adept of the monks of this time, unless his own records had been seriously inaccurate. Perhaps Gelek’s love of books could be put to good use once the books arrived. Or, even better…Nekel smiled. If he was capable of a love of books, instead of the blood-lust and religious fervor of the other young monks, he might be convinced of the reality of mind-travel and the importance of Nekel’s real mission.
“Sir!” He heard a shout at the door, and whirled around to see one of the young monks running toward him.
“Slow down! Where is your calm, your composure? You must not let yourself get excited like this.” He held up a hand to stop the monk’s mad rush, and the younger man skidded to a halt on the stone floor. “Now, catch your breath, and tell me calmly what is going on.”
The boy gasped for breath for a few moments before calming himself, then turned back to Nekel, and said quietly, though with great intensity, “A ship has just landed.”
Nekel scoffed. “You come to tell me that a boat has landed? My dear boy, we live in a major port city; boats land and cast off ten times an hour. What boat is it that has you so worked up?
“I did not see the name of the ship, but I saw the group that got off when it docked. There was a group of young men and women, dressed all in white robes; but at the head of the group was a woman, so pale and beautiful that I almost thought she was a statue. Her skin was almost as white as ours, and her hair was like the color of the sun at sunset. When she came ashore, she stood and spoke to the people for a moment. She said that the isolation of her people was at an end, and that they were making themselves known to the world again.” The monk glanced around at the others in the library, and lowered his voice. “Master Nekel, she said they were from the Selides.”
Nekel started, almost dropping the book in his hands. “Are you sure,” he hissed. “The Selidians have not made themselves known to the world since the fall of Suktis. Why, after twenty thousand years of secrecy, would they make themselves known? Why here? Are you sure?”
The young monk swallowed hard, and nodded. “Yes, that is what she said. Their ship was not any design that I have seen before, and several of the members of her group had the white hair and purple eyes of the Suktisian survivors. She herself, and her acolyte both had the pale skin and ginger hair of the native Selidian line. I think she is telling the truth.”
Why now, Nekel wondered again, and why here? Was it simply because Kedon was the nearest land mass to the Selidian isles? He noticed the young monk shifting nervously, and turned back to him. “Quick, gather up several of the other monks. I want only the most reliable. We must find out what the Selidians are doing here, and why. I want you to find out where they are staying, and if they intend to establish a permanent presence here. Stay only as long as it takes to find out that information, then report back here immediately. But do not come back without that information, do you understand?”
The young monk nodded, and walked swiftly out of the library. The Temaltan ambassador looked around the room; all work had stopped, and most of the monks were staring at the door that their comrade had just exited. “Well? Are you lacking for work? Don’t just stand there idly! No, no more books for today. I want you all to go out to the courtyard; practice your martial arts for a full hour. I want to make sure that you are all in prime condition.” Several of the young men glanced at each other as he added, “Your battle skills may be needed before long. Let us make sure that they are up to the task.”
Mide stood in the antechamber of the lord mayor’s office, and looked around at the building. She was glad to see that the Kedonese had begun to shake off the influences of the Temaltans; their discovery of science had helped greatly. She smiled slightly, and the young acolyte Natael spoke up. “Why are you smiling, my lady?”
“Oh, I’m sorry Natael, I was just distracted. I was remembering the last life I spent here, and thinking how unlikely it is that this one will end as bloodily as that one did. The Kedonese have come quite far in that time, and I do not think that they believe in witches or water spirits anymore. Whether they still believe in anything is yet to be seen.” She stood calmly, not moving but yet projection a sense of readiness and action.
Natael's brow wrinkled slightly as he thought. "I'm not sure I like this place. It feels...orange. I never liked orange, it always seems to go with things that are unreal."
"It's a legitimate response to Kedon. I am not sure that they have ever been quite themselves. First they were ruled by the Temaltan monks, who repressed their natural joy and strength. Now that they are free, they spend too much time building things that simply distract them. I hope that someday they will rise up and discover who they truly are."

Footsteps echoed on the floor for a moment before the doors at the end of the hall opened, and a well-dressed gentleman came out to meet them. "I beg your pardon, madame, sir, but your arrival has thrown us into a bit of a tizzy! The Lord Mayor is ready to meet with you now, and he has cleared his schedule for the rest of the day, so he is at your disposal. Please, if you will come with me!" He bowed deeply, and the two white-robed Selidians walked behind him into the corridor.

He escorted them to a large wooden door in the side of the wall; the door looked heavy enough to stand up to an invasion, and it was highly decorated with metal scrollwork. The steward opened the door, and bowed the Selidians through. He watched their white robes whisper across the floor, and marveled again at their presence. They looked eldritch, as pale and distant as they had been depicted in the stories his mother read to him in the nursery. Who would have imagined that these fair folk from the pages of distant legend would have entered the modern world again?

The Lord Mayor tried not to appear unnerved by the appearnace of the Selidians. He stood calmly behind his desk when Mide and Natael entered the room, and moved forward to greet them only after the doors were closed. "Welcome to Kedon, madame and sir! I am afraid I don't know quite how to address you; we have so little knowledge of your people, and what knowledge does exist is mostly in the realms of myth and legend. Please, please, have a seat." He waved to the thick leather seats before his desk, and sank into his own chair again.
Mide studied the man behind the desk with keen brown eyes. He was a tall, thin man, with the bronze skin and dark hair of his people. He was dressed in a somber black suit, but his dark green waistcoat added a touch of levity to his appearance. He appeared very flustered, and she wished she could do something to calm him. Any move she made, however, would likely only make him more nervous, so she sat quietly in her chair. Natael did the same.
"We realize the impact our sudden appearance must have. Your airships have appeared several times over our islands, and we knew that we could not remain secret much longer. Soon you would be sending exploratory ships to the Selides; we would prefer for that not to happen, so it was decided that we should come to warn you. Do not send ships to the Selides, or to the sunken ruins of Suktis. Your machines are marvelous, and quite powerful, but there is a power in the Suktisian lands that must not be awoken. We have done all we can for twenty thousand years, and the secrets of Suktis have, fortunately, remained a secret."
The mayor rubbed his face wearily, and leaned forward. "You are asking me to tell my people that you have showed up, straight from our books of fairytales, but that none of them can ever see your lands? My people are curious and they will not appreciate being instructed like children."
Natael leaned forward, and shook his head. "And we would not ask that of you. We have made ourselves known to the world, and we do not expect to be left to ourselves anymore. We will be happy to show your people our lands, but they must come with us, and not on their own. On a simply practical level, we know the ruins of Suktis better than anyone, and are the only ones who can safely navigate ships through those waters."
Mide looked at the deep lines on the Lord Mayor's face as he sat in his chair, thinking. Her heart ached for him and his people; none of them could know how short a time their way of life would last. Only another year, perhaps two, and everything would be gone.

47

2007-12-01T07:54:00.001-08:00

“Mother, Kedi has sent me an invitation. She would like me to come over this afternoon, and stay for dinner with her family. May I go?” Suka stood quietly in the entrance to the sitting room, and held out the slip of paper to her mother, who sat on the couch, reading a book. Kisa Loedi peered up at Suka over the top of her glasses, and smiled. Suka loved it when her mother smiled—which was often—because her face wrinkled in delicate lines all along the sides of her mouth. She thought those wrinkles were more beautiful than the smooth faces of many of the girls her own age. Kisa set down her book, and stood. Walking over to Suka, she smoother a few wrinkles out of her dress where the corset pressed against it.
“Well, that is very kind of Kedi! Yes, of course, you may go! Have Dakon drive you over, and please be back by nine at the latest. Oh, and tell Jeda Maktsi hello for me. We must have them over for dinner some evening soon.” She sat back down, and resumed reading as Suka left the room, but let the book fall to her side as she watched her daughter’s retreating back. Kisa sighed, wishing for a moment that Suka was still the little girl in pinafores and hair ribbons that she had been not so long ago.
Suka rang the bell at the Matksi house and listened to the echoes sound in the house. After a moment, a servant came to the door, and recognizing her, smiled, and ushered her into the sun room where Kedi was waiting.
The younger girl turned towards her guest with a smile. “Suka! I am glad you could make it so quickly! Please, have a seat! Kemon, please tell Heka that we will take our tea in here when it is time. Thank you.” The two girls settled themselves onto the sofa, and Suka turned to Kedi.
“You told me that you had something you wanted to show me? What is it?”
Kedi held up the thick blue book again. “You didn’t see some of the more interesting things in this. Take a look at page 308.” Suka flipped the pages to the correct place, and Kedi scanned it. “Ah, yes, there. Read it starting there.”
“ ‘On the Mythology of the Astaldi. The Astaldi have gone through several major paradigm shifts over the course of their history; most of the earliest records indicate a sort of monotheism, and jut prior to the invasion of the Temaltan monks, the primary religion was a distinct polytheism. However, for last several millennia, one mythology has come to dominate. At some point in the relatively recent history of the islands, a movement began to bring back the religion that was believed to have been practiced on the fallen island of Suktis. A cult sprang up around a charismatic leader, called Sulan, who taught that all life is cyclical, and that each individual must live through various lives until their soul has learned the meaning of life, and can now go live with the gods in the heavens.
“From this point onward, Astaldi religion began to be focused around the idea of reincarnation; the veneer of Gnosticism from the Temaltan occupation quickly dropped away, and temples were built in most towns. It took some time for the Temaltan monks to be driven off the islands, and this theme of a great battle between light and dark pervades much of the surviving Astaldi culture.”
Suka let the book drop to her lap; her mind was overwhelmed with memories.
A troop of monks, dressed in black, making their way inland by moonlight.
The flash of arrows, the whiz and thump as they hit their marks
Blood pooling in the sand, flies settling on still-warm flesh
The first temple, on the small central island that few ever saw. The first young men and women coming to join them. The trading ship that landed, with a young woman aboard. The young woman, the daughter of an ambassador. Those bright blue eyes…Kaedti.
Kedi.
Suka looked up into her friend’s deep blue eyes, and saw tears welling there. “Kedi? You remember it, too?”
The young woman nodded, and sat down on the couch. “I found it just before we left the ship. I didn’t believe it at first, either, but then I started having dreams…remembering things…” She ran her hands through her hair. “I’ve spent most of the week in father’s library, trying to read anything I could about Astaldi history. I know that I have never heard any of these things before, but I remember things that I could have no knowledge of. I think that’s why the story of the Ersan princess struck me so deeply. She wasn’t a princess, she was the daughter of the Ersan ambassador. But I remember being locked into a trunk, and being loaded onto a ship…I remember walking on the island, and convincing someone…” her voice trailed off as she saw Suka begin to tremble. “Yes, I think it was you. I think you must have been Sulan, the sculptor who started the revival of Astaldi culture. I remember convincing you to let me stay, you didn’t want to let me…”
Suka nodded, remembering the anxiety she had felt for her friend. “But this seems so impossible,, that we should meet here when we knew each other there. Perhaps certain souls must travel together to learn their lessons. But then…I remember a girl with ginger hair…And not just from Sulan’s life in the Astaldak lands, but from somewhere else, too. I think perhaps that she and I have known each other for a verty long time. Where is she?”
The boat cut swiftly through the waters, and Mide stood in the prow of the ship, watching the ocean stretch out ahead. Only one more day, and they would be standing on the shores of Perzelsis. She smiled slightly at the though, knowing that her friends would be waiting. It had been a long time.
“My lady?” She turned around, and saw a young acolyte standing behind her. “Yes, Natael, what is it?”
“We will be in Perzelsis tomorrow, and the captain wants to know if we should alert the docks that you are aboard. Diplomatic vessels have special privileges, including priority docking, swift passage through customs, and reliable transportation to your new residence.”
Mide thought for a moment, and shook her head. “No, I would not like the Temaltans to know that we are coming. I fear what they may try to do to prevent us from reaching the shores of Kedon.”
Natael’s lips quirked in a brief smile. “I don’t believe the Temaltans have the technology to reach us this far out from the shore.”
“No, I don’t believe they can, either. But they have enough money to persuade others to reach us. The Kedonese have the technology to blast ships out of the water miles from shore, and their airships can easily reach any vessel within three days’ travel. I would rather not swim in to shore, if it’s all the same to you.” Natael smiled, and returned to deliver the answer to the captain.
The Selidian lady turned back to the waters, and looked out to where she knew the shoreline lay. Soon.

46

2007-12-01T07:53:00.002-08:00

“Ambasador, today you are scheduled to take a tour of the most advanced and efficient factory in Perzelsis. The Amalgamated Kedonti factory has been a major landmark in our city for fifty years, and their production is always of the higest quality. They manufacture our wonderful mechanical carriages, as well as cookware, corset rods, and a line of farming implements. “
The Temaltan struggled into his waistcoat, still finding the metal rods constricting. “And why, exactly, am I scheduled to visit a factory? Are we planning on sending diplomats there? Or establishing trade with the factory floor?”
The young monk, Gelek, standing in the doorway sighed, and wished for the hundredth time that the elders had sene fit to send someone else to liase for Nekel. The ambassador hadn’t seemed so bad at first aboard the ship, but after the storm…well, perhaps he was just still in pain from that.
“The Kedonese are eager for you to see their mechanical prowess. The factory is a great symbol to them, more so than perhaps anything else in this city. If you want to learn about their culture, and make yourself accepted here, then you need to visit places like the factory.”
Nekel shrugged into his overcoat, and buttoned it across his waist. “Yes, yes, I know. Well, best to get it over with as soon as possible. Send for the infernal carriage, I’m ready to go.”
He strode out into the bright sunlight, and climbed aboard one of the gleaming carriages, gritting his teeth as it began its lurching way forward. The driver was skilled, and kept the jolting to a minimum, but Nekel found himself wishing for a simple desha to ride. The trip seemed to last for hours, but he doubted it was really more than thiry minutes. The carriage finally halted in front of a gate, and Nekel got out. Gelek quickly paid the driver, and stood beside Nekel. “I believe that the owner and the factory manager are waiting for us. Shall we go inside?”
Nekel nodded, and the two men walked through the gate. There was a small crowd waiting for them inside the factory grounds, and a man in an impeccable red waistcoat stepped forward to greet them.
“Hello! I am Jedan Keli, the owner of this fine factory. Gelek I have already met, since he set up this visit, and you must be Nekel, the new ambassador!” Jedan Keli was a large man, broad in the shoulder and waist, and taller than Nekel by at least a head.
“Yes, I am Nekel Verni, lately of Temalta. I am qujite eager to see your legendary factory. Who are these other people who have gathered?” Nekel tried to make his voice as pleasant and interested as possible, but he had always had a difficult time feigning interest where he had none.
“This man here to my right is the factory manager, Kan Bitali. He ensures that everything keeps moving, and that the merchandise keeps rolling off the factory floor. He has even managed to convince the workers to work longer hours, and increased productivity by fifteen percent!” The short man smiled slightly, and gave a subtle bow. “And here on my left we have Vaski Lejit, the head of our development branch. He has quite a few wild ideas, but he has also come up with some of our best-selling products. He is quite the innovator, you know! And hre behind me, we have the heads of our various departments: production, research, advertisements, shipping, sales. Everyone was so eager to show you around our factory! We had heard that the men of your order were less than amenable to mechanics and machinery, and so we were rather surprised when Temalta informed us that they would be sending an ambassador to Kedon. But we are very pleased, and highly honored! Please, if you will follow me, we will step inside and begin our tour.”
They walked into the nearest building, and Nekel clapped his hands voer his ears. The noise was deafening; the machines threw up an infernal clatter, and the voices of the foreman could be heard amidst the din, shouting instructions.
“This building houses our cookware line,” shouted Jedan, gesturing to the factory floor. Huge machines rolled out metal, pressed metal, cut metal, and workers sat in their stations, performing the same actions again and again. As Nekel watched, the routine was absolutely mesmerizing. Each piece was exactly the same, and the routine never changed.
“This is where it all starts,” Jedan explain, gesturing to a large machine which fed sheets of metal onto a conveyor belt. “The metal is delivered here in stacks, and this machine feeds it out on to assembly line. The automated valves here determine which belt it is delivered to. There are five main routes, each consisting of at least three separate lines of products. Let me show you!” The group moved to one of the long belts, and watched the sheets of metal come off the feeder. The little valves flicked open and closed, and a sheet came down the line that they stood by. A man slid the piece quickly into a large press, and pulled a lever. The top of the press slammed down and quickly opened again; the metal had been cut into a precise shape. The worker repeated the process five times, until no more pieces could be cut from the sheet, then tossed the scrap metal onto a belt that moved just above the floor. As Nekel watched, the scraps were picked up by a abother worker on another adjoining line. “What is he doing,” Nekel shouted in Jedan’s ear.
“Oh,” the owner replied, “He will be cutting smaller implements from the metal. That’s why each lines consists of at least three belts. We want to make sure that we use as much of the metal as possible.”
The pieces from the first press were making their way to the next worker in line, and the small group moved in for a better look. This worker, a young woman, pulled one of the pieces into alignment with her machine, and pulled a lever. The machine slammed down, much as the first one had, and lifted quickly. The metal was now no longer flat, and had a rather complex shape.
“These are facades for our line of ovens. The other belts on this line produce pots and metal cups. We sell quite a few of those to the military every year, they’re one of our best products!” Nekel’s ears rang as he listened to Jedan, and he wished that they could move to someplace more quiet, but it was nearly a half hour before the tour moved back outside.
The Temaltan shook his head slightly, trying to clear it of the noise, but he could see that there were at least three other large buildings that must hold more production floors, and groaned quietly.
“Is something wrong, Ambassador?” asked Gelek quietly. Nekel massaged his temples with gloved fingertips, and replied, “Yes, my head is killing me. There must be a way to cut down on that noise! I am prepared to endure discomfort for the sake of our mission, but I see no benefit in going deaf in the process.” Gelek nodded, and hung back for a moment to speak to the factory manager.
“Are you enjoying the tour, my dead ambassador,” asked Jedan Keli, and Nekel forced a smile and a nod. “Yes, indeed! I have never seen anything like it before, and neither has anyone else from my country, I believe. You see, we believe that matter is irrelevant, and has nothing to do with the soul. Consequently, we have not devoted very much time to the pursuit of the physical sciences. We still create by hand those few things that we need. We are happy in our ways, though. We have few needs, and know how to be content with little. When death calls one of our number, his soul floats away easily, and it is not weighted down by earthly attachments.”
“That is very fine indeed! But tell me, do you and your countrymen never long for a little more ease in your life? I know that the northern islands are vrery cold and it is difficult to grow food on the rocky soil. Even a few of our Kedonese machines could triple your crops, and feed your people better. Why do you not develop your own machines, or buy some of ours? Surely it would be of benefit to you?”
The Temaltan monk smiled noncommittally. “Would we like soft beds to sleep in, and mechanical carriages to drive us everywhere? Perhaps. It would certainly make our lives easier. But if we were to accustom ourselves to such things, we would lose our ability to sleep on rocks, and walk twenty miles if need be. Our life is not pleasant, as you would count such things, but we are happy with our lot, and we have no need of an easier life.”
Jedean Keli nodded pensively, thinking about the ambassador’s words as they entered the next factory floor. “Ah, here we are! I know that you say that your people have no need of thse things, but even you cannot deny the gloriousness of this floor!” Nekel once again winced at the deafening sound, and looked around the factory floor. At the beginning, it looked similar to the other factory: sheets of metal being cut, pressed, painted. But at the assembly stage, he realized what was being constructed. At the far end of the floor, gleaming new mechanical carriages rolled off the belt, and were driven away.
“Impressive, isn’t it? This factory is still the only one to make the carriages used by the cities of Kedon. Of course, any private citizen is free to purchase whatever type of carriage suits their needs, but most of them chose to buy an Amalgamated Kedonti carriage. We hope to have a new model available early next year, but Vaski is still working out the details. Eventually, every man and woman in Kedon will own a mechanical carriage, and we intend to be the ones that make it affordable to everyone here!” Jedan’s face was crinkled in a wide smile,a nd Nekel could tell that he truly believed in the value of hbis product.
“And you don’t worry about making such machines so readily available to so many people? You really want your country overrun with loud clattering machines?” Nekel tried not to smile; no matter how many machines Jedan Keli produced, it would all come to a grinding halt within the year. But of course, he had no way of knowing such a thing, and Nekel was not about to let on that something might happen. If that knowledge slipped out, it could cause a significant change, and he had no desire to end up split between two futures.
“Why should we worry about it,” Jedan laughed. “Right now, it is easier than ever for people to travel. Families formerly separated by large distances are now aable to come together every week if they wish, instead of once or twice a year. Goods from all over Kedon are delivered fresh to the markets, and public transportation is cheaper and faster than ever. And there is noise, to be sure, but little more than the incessant braying of the deshas, and our machines are getting quieter with every new model. It is one of Vaski’s main concerns. He thinks that the next model may cut down on the smoke as well.” After ascertaining that his guest had had enough of the noise of the production center, Jedan led the small group back outside. The noise was sstill quite loud, but not nearly as deafening as it had been inside the building.
“Your aide, Mister Gelek, has informed me that you are still recovering from the terrible accidne that occurred on your voyage, so I will end the tour here, and allow you to return to your house. We have been greatly honored by your visit today, and we hope that you enjoy your time here in our country! If there is ever anything the Amalgamated Kedonti can do for you or your people, please do not hesitate to let us know!” Jedan Keli, bowed low, and shook Nekel’s hand firmly.
As Gelek closed the door of the carriage, it pulled away from the curb, bearing th two men back towards the ambassadorial residence. “Thank you, Gelek. I do not think that I could have endured another moment of that noise. The clammer in the streets is bad enough as it is; I shudder to think of what it will sound like with hundreds more of these carriages. They make the very air itself stink.”

45ish

2007-12-01T07:53:00.001-08:00

Kedi and Suka walked side-by-side, their escorts walking sedately behind them. The hallways were mostly empty, since most of the passengers were still at lunch, or up on the decks of the ship.
“My mother is visiting this afternoon, and will probably not return until after dinner,” Kedi said, unlocking the door to her quarters. “I would love it if you would like to stay with me for awhile! We have not had much time together since we set out, and I miss seeing you!”
Suka laughed, “Yes, of course I’ll come!” She looked over her shoulder at the escort, and informed him of her plans. He bowed, and headed back down the hall with Kedi’s escort. The two girls entered the suite, and made their way into the sitting room.
“Kedi, can I see that book that you were telling Mr. Luser about? I don’t think I’ve ever seen any Astaldi poetry before, at least, not a whole book of it. That story you told sounded…well, almost familiar. I’m trying to figure out where I might have heard it before.” Suka settled herself gracefully on the couch, wishing she could loosen her corset.
Kedi nodded, going to a low bookshelf that sat in a corner. “I thought so, too. I keep trying to think of something that would give me a clue as to why it seems familiar, but no luck so far. Once I get back home, I’m going to go through all of the storybooks that my nurse read to me; it might be mentioned in there somewhere.” She pulled a thick blue volume from the shelf, and handed it to Suka. “Here it is. There’s lots of things in there: poetry, stories, even a book of religious writings. The book itself is about a hundred years old, I think it was published when the Astaldi ended their isolation, and let traders and explorers through again. I think anything Astaldi was selling then, so they just shoved a random collection of literature in a book.”
The young woman paged through the book; the pages were brightly illustrated, and the text was rather ornate. “No, none of these sound familiar…wait. The Life of the Blessed Sulan, by Mei Nevrekti? The Book of Sulan? I can’t think where I’ve heard of them…” She flipped through the pages until she found the first entry. “The Life of the Blessed Sulan, recorded by her loyal follower Mei Nevrekti, in the year of Ersada -------, under the light of the great god Su. The blessed Sulan began her life in this cycle under a different name. She was born to parents who lived on the island of Mei, and grew as many young women did.” She fell into reading silently, eyes scanning the page rapidly. Kedi watched from the adjoining sofa; her friend’s face grew very pale, and her breath began to come in short gasps. After a moment, her hands began to shake, and the book fell unnoticed to the floor.
Wisps of ginger hair blowing with the sand
Blood running across paving stones
Colored lights play across temple walls
Stars spin slowly overhead
“Suka! What’s wrong?” Her friends voice sounded far away, almost as though it were underwater. As Kedi’s hand closed on hers, she looked up into those blue eyes: it was as if Kedi was out of focus. The eyes were the same, but sometimes she had the bronze skin of the Kedonese, and at another instant her color was as pale as the Ersans. Suka looked down at her own hands; they seemed to shift between her own pale skin, the broze of the traditional Kedonese, and the dark brown of the Astaldi.
The moment passed, and Suka sank back into the cushions of the couch. Kedi shrieked, and dashed to her friend’s side. “Suka! Suka, what happened! Are you alright?”
Suka’s eyes fluttered open, and she slowly sat up. “Oh my…”
Kedi slipped her arm around her friend’s shoulder, and helped her sit up. “Here, let me loosen your corset, you need to breathe.” The metal slid back, and Suka felt the air fill her lungs. “Oh, yes, that’s better.”
“What happened? Why did you faint?”
“I…that book…I started remembering it…and remembering more things, more details than it gave. I knew names and places before it mentioned them. I…” She shook her head. “No, it’s insane. This can’t be happening.”
The younger girl fidgeted on the couch. “It’s alright, you can tell me. Even if it’s crazy, who would I tell it to?”
Suka laughed quietly, and nodded. “Fair enough. Kedi…I think I lived through these things. I think I was one of these people. That sounds so mad, doesn’t it? It doesn’t seem like the sort of thing that would happen in this day and age.”
Kedi shrugged slightly. “I don’t know. Maybe your imagination just got a little overactive today? I think maybe you had best lie down and rest for a while. Here, you can lie down on the sofa; my mother won’t be back until later, and she wouldn’t mind anyway. We can turn the lights down, and you can just rest for awhile.” She carefully turned down the lights, and settled herself back down on the sofa.
Suka let herself relax, and tried not to think about the images that had flowed through her mind. As she drifted off into sleep, the last thing she saw was a pair of green eyes, floating above an open sea.
The ship Perzelsis pulled into the dock four days later, and the passengers began to disembark. They were chatting gaily amongst themselves, skin and eyes bright from the fresh air and sunshine.
Suka and Gehne arranged for their luggage to be sent to the house, and Suka made her way through the crowd towards Kedi and her mother.
“Kedi!” Suka waved above the crowd, and saw an answering hand a few yards away. After a moment, the two girls stood together, trying not to be jostled apart by the mass of travelers.
“Suka, can you come over to my house sometime this week? I found something that I think you should see!” Kedi had to shout to make herself heard over the babble of cheerful voices, and Suka nodded. “Yes, just send me a note, and let me know when to come. My mother will want me at home for the first few days, but I should be able to come for a few hours later in the week.”
“Alright, I will send you a message as soon as I can. I really enjoyed the trip!”
Suka nodded, as she began edging her way through the crowd again. “Yes, I enjoyed it as well! I will come see you soon!”
When Suka arrived back at the cart which was now laden with luggage, Gehne signed to the porter to load their baggage onto a mechanical carriage. “Come along, Suka, your parents will be waiting. I’m sure they’re very eager to hear about the trip; they were so excited to be able to send you.”
“Miss Loedi, a moment please!” a shout boomed out over the dun, and Suka looked up. Mariok Luser was making his way across the plaza, and waved to her. “Miss Loedi, thank you for waiting, I was afraid that I might not catch up with you. I just wanted to extend my thanks to you. I very much enjoyed meeting you, and your young friend. I am going to be staying in Kedon for some time, I believe, and I hope to see you again soon.” He bowed formally, and Suka returned the gesture.
“Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Luser! Kedi and I both greatly enjoyed the dinner, and I know that we will both be quite happy to see you in the society circles here in Perzelsis.”
Mariok boomed out a laugh, “I am afraid that I do not often go to society events, since I find it rather difficult to remember all the rules. However, since I now know that you and Miss Makti will be present, perhaps I shall find the courage!” He gave a final wave as Gehne and Suka stepped into the mechanical carriage, then turned and disappeared into the crowd.
As the carriage jolted along, Suka peered out of the window; the crowds walked past on the sidewalks, as traffic wove through the streets. As they entered one of the residential sections, the streets were quieter, and trees grew from the yards, providing a welcome shade to the street below.
The carriage pulled up in front of a large house; a wide green lawn spread out in front of the building, and a garden lay off to one side. The house itself was almost regal, with a columned porch and many windows. As the clattering of the machine died down, the front door of the house opened, and a large man came rushing out. His skin was the bronze of the Kedonese, and he wore a thick curling beard, black as coal.
“Suka! You have returned! And without the slightest hint of a tan, yet again! Ah well, perhaps your mother is right, the paleness fo your skin suits you.” He embraced his daughter warmly, then held her at arm’s length to exmine her. “Now, most importantly, did you have a good time on the trip? I stillm wish your mother and I could have joined you, but I just arrived back into Perzelsis the day before yesterday, and your mother didn’t care to go without me. Was it a pleasant voyage?”
Suka laughed, and nodded. “I do swear, father, sometimes you talk even more than I do! Yes, I enjoyed the trip, but I do wish you and mother could have come with me. The ship was as lovely as everyone says, and I met some very wonderful people.” She linked her arm through her father’s, and walked slowly with him into the house. Gehne summoned a servant to unload the bags and bring them into the house.
“So, you made some new friends on the trip. Anyone that I should know about? You didn’t secretly marry a dashing young explorer, did you?” Mukti Loedi’s voice rumbled through the halls, echoing slightly.
“No, father, I didn’t get married secretly, so you don’t get out of saving up for a dowry. I met several very nice ladies my own age, and an airship captain twice my age. Do you know Mariok Luser, Father?” She looked up at him, trying to read his face, but it was inscrutable behind the beard. “Gehne warned me that he might be a little…odd, by normal definitions, and that he was, but he seemed nice enough.”
After a moment, Mukti nodded. “Yes, I do know him, and I was never wuite sure what to make of him. He strikes me as a man without a home, a man who can never settle down and live on the ground. He’ll always be sailing away somewhere on that ship of his.” He looked intently at his daughter, his black eyes bright and serious. “I trust that there is no special affection between you? I do want to see you happily married, but not to someone like that. “
Suka smiled, and squeezed her father’s arm. “No, nothing of the kind. I enjoyed talking to him very much, and I hope to see him at some of the events while he is here, but I do not think that we could ever feel that way about each other. I do not think that he is exactly in the market for a family.”
Mukti seemed relieved, and quickened his pace a bit. “Well, I am glad of that, then! Now, I understand that your friend Kedi Maktsi was on the trip as well. Did the two of you get to spend any time together?”
Kedi ran her fingers over the worn spines of the books on her bookcases, eyes skimming the titles. Finally, she found the titles she wanted, and pulled them off the shelf with a quick gesture. “Fairy Tales and Far Away Places,” she muttered, “A Child’s Book of Stories, and A Collection of Tales. If it’s anywhere, it’s in here. “ She sat down on her bed, and began reading.

44ish

2007-12-01T07:50:00.000-08:00

Kedi waited nervously at the top of the staircase, her escort standing just behind her. She paced nervously, but stopped when he feet got tangled in the hem of her dress for the third time. The dress was a muted blue, and hung in long lines to the floor. Her corset was bright silver, and it was matched by the silver circle that bound her hair above her head. The dress left her arms bare, and silver bands circled her upper arms, with delicated chains that dangled to her elbows. As she walked, the metal tinkled like tiny bells.
“Kedi!”
The blue-eyed girl whirled around, and looked down the corridor. Suka was walking quickly toward her, followed by an escort who looked rather discomfited at moving at a less-than-sedate pace.
Suka was dressed all in yellow, a deep rich color that set off her hair, and her corset was made of a bright reddish metal. Her hair was held up with a single metal net, with green ribbons wound through it.
“I’m so glad you could make it,” Suka exclaimed, linking her arm through her friend’s. The two descended the staircase, their respective escorts at their sides. When they came to the maitre’d, who stood at the foot of the stairs, Suka whispered a quick word into his ear. The man looked up at her for a moment, and she showed him the seal on the letter that had arrived that morning. He nodded, and gestured for the group to follow him.

A small table was set into a nook, half-hidden behind a potted plant. Suka could see the tall form of Mariok; the airship captain seemed to be absorbed in his own thoughts at the moment, absently studying the reflections in his wine glass. He saw the wavering forms of the two young women through the glass, and stood up immediately. They returned the gesture, and after seating the women, the escorts left.
“It is wonderful to see you again, Miss Loedi. And I presume that this lovely creature is a friend of yours?” He turned his eyes towards Kedi, who immediately blushed and dropped her gaze. Suka responded gaily, “Yes, this is Kedi Maktsi, daughter of Heildon Maktsi, the Lord Mayor of Perzelsis.”
“Well, then, Miss Maktsi, it is a great pleasure to meet you. I believe that they will bring us the menus soon, so until then, why don’t you both tell me a little bit about yourselves? How old are you?”
“I am twenty-three,” replied Suka, and looked over at Kedi, but the younger girl blushed furiously, and toyed with her napkin. “Kedi is nineteen, but she will be twenty in two weeks.” Kedi turned slightly at this, shooting Suka a slightly worried expression; Suka remembered Gehne’s warning, and stammered, “But we are not on this trip alone, of course; Kedi is with her mother, and I with my old nurse.”
Mariok laughed, and leaned back in his chair. “I take it, then, that your elders have told you some of the stories about my wild escapades, and given you very stern warnings about me? Have no fear, my dear ladies, I shall do nothing to impinge upon your honor. I am simply a curious soul, who always seeks to learn more about those things which interest me. You, Miss Leodi, interested me, when I saw you unaccompanied, in a darkened parlour, taking time top simply gaze up at the stars. You, Miss Maktsi, interest me, partly because you are friendly with Miss Leodi, and partly because of those large blue eyes. Such large eyes are no often seen past childhood.”
A waiter came, and handed each member of the party a printed bill-of-fare. The airship captain ran a practiced eye over the menu, and turned again to the young women. “Ladies, have you ever been aboard the Perzelsis before? No? I thought not. Then, please, allow me to place our order. I know the chef, and I know which items his kitchen is famous for.”
Suka and Kedi both voiced their assent, and Mariok pulled out a fountain pen from the inside pocket of his jacket. In a few moments, the bill of fare was covered in notes, some items circled, others crossed off, and his sprawling signature at the bottom. He summoned the waiter, and handing him the bill, instructed him, “Please give this to the chef, sir. He will know what to do.”
The waiter stammered, “But sir, this is highly unusual!”
“Well, so am I, my good man! Now please, take this to the chef as soon as possible.”
Suka felt her face beginning to burn bright red; she was not accustomed to any sort of ccommotion at the table, and several of the other diners were looking their way. Mariok had a booming voice, when he wanted to be heard, and she was sure that the entire hall could hear him. The waiter walked away quickly with the note, and Mariok watched him go.
“Sir, was that entirely appropriate?” Suka asked, trying to hide her blush.
“Appropriate? Oh, quite probably not. I do not set much stock by silly rules. But it will get us the best food on board this ship. And it is entirely appropriate that two laides such as yourselves should have the very best. Ah, look, now I’ve made you bluch again. Please forgive me! I may not care much for the silly rules of society, but one should nevrer make a lady blush if she doesn’t wish it. There, I will hold my peace. Please, tell me about yourselves. Miss Maktsi, I have heard that you house has a quite impressive library. Do you read much yourself?”

Kedi glanced up quickly, eyes brightening. “Oh, yes, I love to read! My father always brings me back some new book when he can. I loved the book he brought last time, it was a collection of classical Astaldi poetry. There was an entire song cycle about an Ersan princess who lived on one of the islands; her friends were driven away from the island, and she was imprisoned in a tower. After two years of confinement, she persuaded a passing ship to take her aboard, and she was smuggled out of the house in a chest of jewels. After a year and a day of sailing, she came to an island in the center of the Astaldi lands, and found her friends. They lived there in joy for a hundred years.” The young woman suddenly fell silent, blushing, and dropped her eyes to her hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to carry on so.”
The airship captain shook his head. “No, no, that was fascinating! Is that the Kaedti Maediki cycle?”
Kedi raised her head again, meeting Mariok’s eyes for the first time. “Yes, that’s the one! Have you read it, too?”
“Well, not read per se, but I did spend a few years among the Astaldaki, and it is still quite popular there. I was privileged to hear a local performer sing the entire cycle. Took an entire day and night to tell it, but it was exquisite. Did you read it in the original Astaldi, or the translation?” The young woman looked surprised, then a slight smile flickered across her face. “Only the translation, I’m afraid. I know a few words and phrases in the old Astaldi, but not enough to decipher a passage in it.”
“Ah, well, the translation is far better than nothing. Most people these days simply hear abouit the great song cycles once or twice in their school days, and forget about them as soon as possible. It’s rather rare to find someone your age who has a genuine love for those stories. I myself love the ancient sagas of the Ersans. They are unflinchingly stoic and often brutal, but they never try to hide the harshness of the world behind pretty words. Shall I quote you a passage?”
Suka nad Kedi both nodded eagerly, and Mariok cleared his throat; in a deep rumble, he began to recite:

“FiNaz | esir
aiþa velli
oc vm mold þinvr
matkaN doma
oc a fimbvl | tys
fornar rvnar.”
“What in the world did that mean?” Suka said, confounded. “I felt a shiver go through me as I listened.” Kedi nodded her agreement.
“Loosely translated, it might be something like this: “Sun blackens, earth sinks into the sea,
Bright stars fall from the sky, Smoke and fire surge against Life's Sustainer, Tall flames play against heaven itself.”
“Very thrilling! But perhaps not so well suited to lunch; I believe that is our waiter making his way through the tables?” Suka was correct, and a few moments later, the waiter arrived, pushing a small cart which was steaming profusely. “Here you are sir, madams; the chef seemed most anxious to accommodate you!”
As they pressed the buttons to roll back the various compartments of the trolley, Suka asked, “Well, Mister Luser, you seem to be very eager to hear about us, but you have told us precious little about yourself, save your occupation and you interested in old folk songs. How is it that you came to know the chef of the Perzelsis well enough to merit such familiarity?”
Mariok carefully carved the roasted fowl that sat in the main compartment of the cart, and answered. “We were both traveling men in our youth, though he has since settled down somewhat. We met while I was staying in Ersa, and became friends. We both appreciated fine food, and often went to find the most interesting places to eat. Unfortunately, while we were there, the Temaltans made another one of their plays for power, and the cities became rather unsafe. I had my own airship, through not the same one as I own now, and was able to pilot us both to safety in the Astaldak lands. We went our separate ways after that, but I run into him every now and again.”
Suka listened to the story distractedly, her attention more focused on the man than on his story. He seemed to have a great weariness under the energetic façade he was displaying, and he looked somewhat older than his real ahe probably was.
“That’s a fascinating story, Mr. Luser. It seems that you have traveled to many places in your life. May I ask, where are you originally from?” Suka speared a vegetable with her fork, and took a small bite of it. She did not recognize the plant itself, but it was delicious, and cooked to perfection. The airship captain gave her a quick glance as she asked her question, looking almost wary. She was startled, but then his broad smile returned. “I am afraid that I will have to keep you guessing about that one. I have never yet told anyone my past, and if I let you lovely ladies be the first to know, the others who have dined with me will get jealous.” There was an awkward silence; Kedi looked down at her plate, and Suka took a quick sip of wine. Then the moment was past, and the three resumed conversation.
After the meal was done, Suka nd Kedi glanced at each other, and rose from their seats. “Thank you for the dinner, Mr. Luser. It was a great privilege, and I do not believe that either of us has ever had a finer meal.” He stood quickly, and bowed. “Not at all, I assure you, the pleasure was all mine! Please allow me to walk you back to your escorts.”

An Announcment

2007-11-26T13:47:00.000-08:00

Last night, at approximately 9:33pm, I hit the golden 100,000 words on my novel.

Oh. Yeah. Baby.

http://www.viddler.com/explore/SaintJoi/videos/63/ingroup/nanowrimo/

43ish

2007-11-22T21:57:00.001-08:00

Nekel rose early, and after dressing in silence, went out to the courtyard behind the house. It was still dark, and rather cold, though not nearly as cold as he was used to in his northern home. He performed his daily rituals, and practiced his martial arts for an hour with one of his companions. As the sun rose, he went back into the house to bathe and prepare for the day. He laid out his clean clothes for the day: a black shirt, black loose trousers, and a stiff black waistcoat. He saw the jacket that hung in the closet, and knew that it must have been intended to go with the waistcoat, but decided to leave it behind for the day. Nekel wanted to see the fabled city, and it would be somewhat easier not to be noticed if his clothing was more casual.
After a short cold bath, he dressed, and noted again the discomfort of the metal in the wasitcaots. How do the Kedonese stand it, he wondered. Perhaps it was something one got accustomed to. After dropping a few coins into the purse he wore on his belt, Nekel set out into the city.
The sun was fully up, and the streets were already crowded. He had forgotten how quickly Kedon grew how in the morning, and wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow. He wove through the crowded streets, ignoring vendors who accosted him with the virtues of their wares.
The streets were as narrow as he remembered, though the architecture had changed much over the intervening millenia. Nekel thought the roads must be original, however; they were worn but solid, and they seemed well-maintained.
He paused by a small corner booth, and beckoned to the shopkeeper.
"I have heard that the great temple of Ancient Perzelsis can still be seen. Is this true?"
The shopkeeper nodded, smiling broadly. "Oh yes, indeed! It is one of our great historical buildings. If you follow this street, and take a right at the end of it, you will soon find the temple. There is a marvelous library right across the street from it, and I believe they have a great deal of literature about the temple, if you need it. The librarians are quite knowledgeable about the history of our great city. If you don't wish to walk, I would be happy to summon a mechanical carriage for you!"
Nekel shook his head, remembering the lurching smoking monstrosity from the day before. "No, thank you, I do not mind walking. Thank you again for the directions."
He continued down the street, and as he turned the corner, he saw the temple. It was still magnificent, enough to take one's breath away, but as he got closer, he could see that while some of the original building had been maintained, much of it had been reconstructed. He called up the memories of Veren, traveling monk of the ----th millenium, and looked at the temple in his day. Yes, the dome had collapsed at some point, and been rebuilt; the builders had made some attept at accuracy, it appeared, but their own aesthetic had crept in along the way. He suspected that the stone structure had been reinforced with metal as well. It would be at lewast another fifty thousand years before these people would learn to project themselves backward into time, fifty thousand years before they would learn about true historical accuracy.
Nekel entered the temple, and found himself standing in a large room; it bore many smilarities to the temple he had seen on Veren's journey, but much still was changed. He could see the bright casing of th machinery that adjust the great mirror in the dome, an an attendant stood by to assist visitors with the operation of the mechanism. When he and the other monks had stopped by on their way to the village of Kemal the temple had been full of worshippers and priests, the air heavy with incense, and the subtle tingling of power, for those who knew how to sense it. Now it was quiet and dim, the few tourists present speaking in hushed voices as they examined the legendary architecture, the great mirror, and the dias where the priests had performed their rituals.
He felt a momentary sense of loss; he had despised the religion of the Kedonese; it was nbarbaric, earth-bound, primitive. But the temple was a grand thing, meant for more than the casual inspecting eye of visitors who had no belief in anything but their own place and time. He gave thanks inwardly for his own beliefs; the Temaltans had held their ideas for over two hundred thousands years; changes had come and gone, civilizations had risen and fallen, and in this time he occupied, the Temaltans had been beaten back; but soon Kedon would fall under the weight of its own hubris, and the warrior monks would rise again. He smiled at the thought, and left the cool of the temple for the library across the dusty street.
_____________________________________
A pleasant chime sounded in the suite, and Gehne went quickly to the door. A servant stood there with a metal trolley; he bowed sharply, pushed the trolley into the room, saying "Here is your breakfast, ma'am! Oh, and this letter was delevered as well." He handed her a thick cream-colored piece of paper, and exited swiftly, closing the door behind him.
Suka walked sleepily into the sitting room, wrapped in a thin silky robe. "Good morning, Gehne. "Is that nbreakfast?"
She pressed a small button and one side of the cover of the trolley slipped back, the metal plates sliding under each other until it lay folded like a dragon's wing at the side of the cart. Steam rose swiftly into the air into a cloud, and Suka looked over the repast. There was a bowl of hot roasted gidics, and roasted fish, along with a loaf of freshly baked bread, and a small jar of seasoned oil. She pressed the button to uncover the other side of the trolley, and condesation rolled off the metal as th plates slipped back. There was a bowl of sliced fruit, and a bowl of chilled gidics under an insulated lid; cold boiled eggs were in another bowl, and a selection of juices were arrayed in clear glass carafes.
"This looks lovely," exclaimed Suka, pulling a plate out from the tray that hung below the trolley. "Did you order this in for us Gehne?"
The older woman caught Suka's hand by the wrist, and took the plate away. "No, I didn't, and let's make sure it's not a mistake before we eat anything, and they make us pay for it. This letter came with the cart; it's addressed to you." She handed over the thick parchment; Suka unfolded the letter, and read:

Dear Miss Loedi;

Allow me to once again beg your pardon for disturbing you in the parlor; in the future I shall be more careful, I assure you! However, that happy accident did allow me to make your acquaintance, for which I am grateful. It would do me a very great honor if you and any of your friends would join me at my table for lunch. The maitre'd knows me, and will be happy to escort you to the correct table.

Ever yours,

Mariok Resul

P.S. Please do enjoy the breakfast; lunch is served rather late on this fine ship, and it would do to have you faint from hunger before the meal!

The name was a wild scrawl beneath the wax impress of a house seal; Suka examined it, but did not recognize the heraldry.

As soon as Suka's eyes left the page, Gehne snatched it, and quickly scanned the letter. "Tihs is the man you met in the parlor? The one who escorted you home?" Suka nodded, quicking filling a small plate with the food. "Have you ever heard of him, Suka?"
The young woman looked up for a moment, and shook her head. "No I don't think so. Why? Whould I have?"
"He's an airship captain, something of a daredevil, I believe. I know that I have seen his name in the newsppaers. He often enters airship races, and he once dropped a Shadka wreath on the top smokestack of the Amalgamated Kedonti factory. The wreath was shirveled within moments, of course, but that wasn't the point. Suka, be careful with this man. He is a part of society, but he is not predictable, he is not nobility, and he is not safe."
Suka's heart sank, and she lowered herself into one of the cushioned chairs. "I take it, then, that I am not to join him for lunch today?"
A smile twitched at the edges of Gehne's mouth, and she handed the letter back. "No, I think you can go; it would be rude to reject the invitation after he has sent us such a fine meal. But please, take Kedi with you. I would fele better if it was a full luncheon party, and not just the two of you."
__________________________________________

A whooshing sound swept through Kedi's suite, followed by a faint chime. Her mother stepped lightly over to the message tube, and pulled out a thin canister. She twisted the top open, and looked at the scroll of paper. "Here, Kedi, it's for you. It has the Loedi seal on it, and I imagine it’s from Suka.” The elegant woman handed her daughter the roll of paper; Kedi took it and broke the seal, unrolling it quickly.
“She says that she received an invitation for lunch, and that she would like me to join her. I’m to meet her at the top of the grand staircase at two o’clock.”
Her mother took the parchment and examined it. “Well, that’s nice! I wonder who she received the invitation from? You’ll have to tell me all about it when you get back. It’s ten o’clock now, let’s see, what dress will you want to wear?”

42ish

2007-11-22T21:55:00.002-08:00

“Suka, please stop staring out of the window. It’s rude, and unbecoming.” The young woman turned away from the window, and let the drapes fall back into place.
“Do we have to keep the drapes closed, Gehne? It makes it so dreary in here.” She sat in a chair by a bookshelf, and picked up one of the much-thumbed volumes. “I wish you would let me stay out in the sunlight more, you know how much I enjoy it.”
“Yes,” the older woman replied, smiling wryly, “and I know how quickly it ruins your complexion. Your mother would never forgive me if you appeared at a ball or a dinner with freckles or Suld forbid a sunburn. You wouldn’t want to do that to your old friend would you?:
Suka smiled, and put the book down. “Don’t play that faithful-oldd-nurse bit on me, Gehne, you know I won’t fall for it. But you’re right, I wouldn’t want to draw any ire down upon you, so I will keep my face out of the sun when I can. But thank you for letting me go up on the deck this morning, the wind and air felt so wonderful!”
Gehne went back to reading the book that she had put down when the younger woman had opened the curtains, and Suka stood again, wandering around the suite. She glanced over at the woman on the couch, and discerning that she was not watching too closely, Suka slipped out of her shoes, and dug her toes into the thick pile of the carpet. She picked up the book she had left on the table and carefully put it back into its place on the shelf.
“Do you think my father will be back when we return?” she asked casually. Gehne did not look up, but shrugged non-comitally. “Who can say? His trips are never by any set pattern, you know that. Please stop pacing, it’s making me nervous. You’ve been edgy ever since we set out the second time, what’s wrong?”
Suka ran her hands nervously over her hair; Gehne had pinned it up in two small buns at the back of her head, each bun enclosed in a small bronze interlace. “I don’t know. I thought I saw a man looking at me, and his eyes gave me the chills. I’ve never seen green eyes before, I didn’t know that you could have eyes that color. As soon as he turned toward me, I looked away, and I don’t think he noticed, but something about him…” She shuddered, her own intense pjurple eyes closing for a moment. “I havent’ seen him on board since then, so I think he was with the Temaltans, which would explain the eyes, I suppose. If it’s a color native to them, it wouldn’t have spread to the other lands.”
“For the last time, child, please sit down, or go into one of the parlours! It makes me edgy just to watch you. Why don’t you try on some of the new dresses your mother got you? She was so happy to find them in time for this trip, it would make her so happy to know that you wore them on board the ship. She’ll be even happier if you come home with a young man with an eye for a wife, but that may be asking a little too much even of those gowns.”
Suka laughed in spite of her misgivings, and went over to the large closet. The press of a small lever caused the doors to retract, and she examined the row of dresses. There were many in the fashionable warm tones; reds, yellows, russets, rusts, but here and there a cool color peeper out. Suka pulled out a dove-gray dress, and held it against herself. “I like this one, Gehne, do you think it will be alright for dinner?”
Gehne squinted slightly. “Let me see it over here, the light is better.” The young woman move dot the center of the suite, and twirled, holding the dress to her shoulders. “There, does that give you a better idea fo it?”
“Well, it’s not the normal color that a girl of your age would be wearing, but I will admit, it does a great justice to your eyes and complexion. Yes, I think it will be fine. You’ll catch the eye of everyone in the room, I’m sure.” She set down her book, and stood. “And if you’re going to get there in time, I’d best help you get changed.”
“Oh, come now, Gehne, I can dress myself as well as anyone.” Suka pulled away, and walked towards her own room.”
The nurse followed her obstinately. “That may be true enough, but I can dress you more quickly than you can dress yourself. You’ve only an hour or so, and you had best take a bath as well.”
Suka opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it. “Very well, then. If you will hand me a clean shift, I will call you when I am ready to put the dress on.”
Gehne already had the item in her hand, and passed it to Suka who closed the bathing room door, and turned on the faucet. As the steam swirled around her, making her bangs lay flat on her forehead, she carefully removed the metal spheres that held her hair in place, setting them carefully on a small shelf. She reached a hand up behind her, feeling for the small latch in the metal corset. She flipped the latch over, and gasped as the metal bonds loosened, sliding a few inches out from tnhe central support. She pulled the contraption off, and took a deep breath before removing her dress and worn shift and slipping into the water.
A half hour later, she stood in the center of the suite still steaming slightly in a clean shift.
“Raise your arms, dear, “ Gehne mumbled, tossing the dress over Suka’s head. She gave it a practiced pull downwards, and the dress slid into place, fitting to the younger woman’s curves. Picking up the truncated corset from where it sat on the floor, the nurse slipped it around Suka’s torso. “Hold that in place, dear, yes, that’s good.” She moved around Suka, checking that the fabric was laying flat and not folding oddly anywhere. When she was satisfied, she flipped the latch on the back of the corset, and heard the young woman’s breath catch as the bands of metal slid inwards, pulling her ribs and torso into the proper shape.
“There we are! Now, just to do your hair and face, and you will be ready.” Suka took a seat on a stool at Gehne’s feet as the woman combed her hair with a bone comb until it shone and lay flat against her skull. Suka could feel Gehne’s fingers flying as she braided the dark hair, and wound it in coils against her skull, pinning it with long silver skewers.
“Now, turn and face me, and I will make sure that they all notice your complexion.” Gehne dusted the smooth young face with powder, and smoothed the faintest hint of blush into the cheeks. “There, now you will glow like Lotha herself, and all the other young ladies in the room will go green with envy when the men take no notice of them.”
Suka stood carefully, making sure not to tread on the hem of her dress. “Really, Gehne, you’d think I had nothing more on my mind apart from a good marriage! I will have you know that I also think often of dancing!” The nurse laughed, and touched a button by the door. A few moments, a knock came on the door, and Gehne opened it.
A young man stood there, dressed plainly but impeccably. “Yes madame, is the lady ready to go to the dining hall?” Gehne nodded sedately, and stood back as Suka came to the door. She noted with a great deal of pleasure how a faint flush came ot the young man’s face as he saw the beauty of her charge, and gave her his arm to escort her.
The two made their way down the grand stairway and made their way to a table. Several other young women sat there, and an equal number of young men sat at an adjacent table. Suka’s escort held her chair for her as she sat at the table, then bowed and took his leave.
“Suka, I adore your dress,” one of the girls said breathlessly. “Where did you buy it?”
“My mother got it for me, so I am not sure, but I believe she got it from one of the traders who came through. He said it had come from a craftsman in one of the other cities.” Suka spoke in quiet measured tones as she perused the menu that lay on the table. “I believe that I will have the sautéed eel, I hear that the chef aboard is a master of cooking them.”
Another young woman approached the table on the arm of an escort, and sat quietly. Suka looked up and smiled. “Well, Kedi, it is good to see you! I had heard that you would not be able to come on this little trip!”
The other girl smiled; her skin was as pale as Suka’s, but her hair was the color of wheat, and her eyes were a bright blue. Her grandfather, brought over to Kedon as an Ersan servant had begun a small business, and grown it into a large industry; when he died, his son inherited a fortune, and made his way into the higher levels of society. Many looked down on the family, scoffing at the notion of an Ersan nobleman, but Suka had always gotten along well with Kedi; she was a gentle soul, and Suka had found that she had a will of iron when necessary.
“Yes, I was not feeling well earlier in the week, and the doctor thought that I might not be well enough to spend extended time at sea. But I improved quite a bit, and so was able to come. The doctor now claims that the sra air will be just what I need to recover completely; I think sometimes that he does not know hwat ghe is talking about, but that he simply likes to listen to himself speak.”
A ripple of laughter went around the table, and one of the young men glanced over at the young ladies. Several of the girls blushed, and looked down at their menus, Kedi among them.
The musicians took their place at the front of the room, and began to play quietly; the songs were simple and easy to listen to, and the mood in the room was light and easy. While the meals were being served and eaten, the conversation ranged from the weather to the voyage to the latest fashions in Perzelsis, and back to the weather again.
“I hope it rains soon,” Kedi said as she calmly buttered a slice of bread. “The farmers need it, and the prices of food will soon go up if the crops suffer.”
“I hope not! I am giving a party in two months, and I don’t want to spend too much for the food,” one of the other girls laughed.
“Yes, you’ll be needing a new pair of shoes, and with the way you buy them, that will consume most of the money set aside for the party!” came a retort from the other side of the table, and the girls all smiled. Suka let her mind wander, chatting away without paying too much attention to anything she was saying. Her eyes continually drifted to the glass dome above the,. The glass was already beginning to glow golden with the evening light, and soon it would be dark. She had yet ot be able to persuade Gehne to allow her to come down into the dining room when the moons were visible through the dome
When the dinner had ended, the group slowly dispersed. Many of the young ladies stayed for dancing, but Suka had no interest in dancing that night. As she traversed the staircase, she saw her escort waiting for her in the hallway. "Good evening, my lady. Allow me to escort you back to your rooms."
Suka shook her head, and said, "No, I am not going back to my room. Please take me to one of the parlors, preferably an empty one."
"But miss, it would been improper for you to be seen sitting alone in the parlor. Perhaps we can find one with some of the other young ladies..."
"No, please, just take me to a parlor. I do not care if anyone sees me sitting alone, provided that they do not try to rememdy the situation. Here, this one will do fine. I can take myself to my room when I decide to retire. Thank you."
"Very well, madame, but I wish you would reconsider. Let me get the lights for you." He moved toward the switch on the wall, but Suka shooed him away.
"No, I like the dark, and the moon will give more than enough light. I just want to look up at the stars for a little while, then I promise you, I will go to my quarters like a proper lady."
The escort left her reluctantly, and she sat in one of the chairs that lay below the skylight. The chairs were wooden, and made in flowing graceful lines; the moonlit shone off the metal, making even the bright color look cold.
She settled into the chair, letting the train of her dress hang odwn onto the floor. Her mother did not approve of such lounging chairs, claiming that they ruined her posture, but Suka relished the chance to lie back without worrying about her straight her shoulders were.
She let her eyes drift up to the skylight, the metal bars sihouetted against the starlit heavens. The edge of Lotha was just coming into view, and a few clouds drifted lazily between the sea and the stars. A lone airship made its way across the sky, visible only where its large gas-filled bulk blocked out the light of the stars. She watched the ungainly vessel float on the wind until it passed out of sight, then turned her eyes to the waves. The ocean looked black, much darker than the sky. Suka marveled that something so blue and beautiful by day could be look so threatening at night.
She heard a quiet sound behind her, and turned around. A man stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the doorframe. He wore blue trousers that presumably had been nicely pressed earlier in the evneing, though they had now lost most of their crispness, and a white shirt with no waistcoat. On a closer inspection, she noticed that his waistcoat was gripped in his hand, and looked a bit worse for wear--she could see that a few of the metal rods were beginning to detach from the stiff fabric. He held a cigarette, and slowly exhaled a stream of smoke into the dark room.
"Oh, I beg your pardon, lady, I did not know this room was occupied, since the lights were off." He hasitly extinguished his cigarette, and slipped on the waistcoat, though he neglected to button it.
Suka stood up gracefully. "Please, don't let me disturb you. I was just sitting here to watch the stars. I suppose I really shouldn't be sitting here by myself in the dark. I was just about to walk back to my room; feel free to sit down."
He bowed rather awkwardly, and stepped back from the door. "I didn't mean that you should leave. I will be happy to find another parlour, I'm sure there must be one available at this time of night. Most people are either in their rooms, or still dancing in the hall. I must confess, neither one held much attraction for me tonight. Like you, I enjoy watchking the stars go by. But please, sit back down, I will find another spot to sit." He turned to go, but Suka slipped through the doorway, and spoke quietly. "no, I really am leaving. My companion will become nervous if I do not come back soon, and she will probably faint when I come bakc without my escort as it is."
The man laughed, and held out an arm. "Well, if you came back with an escort, even if he's not the same one you left with, perhaps it will not be noticed!"
As they walked along the empty corridor, chatting pleasantly, Suka tried to place his accent. It did not sound like anything she knew on Kedon, nor did he have the tones of the Astaldak. He looked something like the priest, but his manner seemed much more relaxed.
They arrived at the door of her stateroom, and she turned to face the intriguing stranger. "Thank you, sir, for escorting me! I hope we may meet again during the trip! I am Suka Loedi, daughter of Mukti Loedi." She bowed gracefully, and he returned the gesture.
“It is a very great honor to meet you, Suka Loedi. I am Mariok Resul, captain of the fine ship Julani. I would consider it a great privilege to meet you again during the voyage.” He smiled, and as she entered her quarters, continued down the hallway.
“Suka! Where have you been? I thought you would be coming back soon, did you stay out dancing with the other girls?” Gehne stood, setting aside her book as her charge entered the suite. Suka laughed, and shook her head. “No, I simply stopped in a parlour to look at the moons and stars. I know, it’s not proper to sit out by myself, but I just needed some quiet after the din of the great hall. You know how it plays on my nerves. The parlor was nice and quiet, and the sky was beautiful.”
Gehne snorted indelicately, and accompanied Suka to her dressing room. “Stand still, let’s get you out of this corset, before it wrinkles your dress more.” Her practiced fingers snapped the latch open, and the metal bands slipped wide.
Suka took a deep breath, and stretched, feeling the familiar ache of her ribs where the metal had bound them tightly.
“And I suppose you walked all the way back by yourself, too? No, Suka, let me speak a moment. You know that I care less for the rules of society than your mother does, but there is still a measure of propriety to assume. Young ladies of good families simply cannot go clambering all over a liner at night by themselves! It doesn’t matter if anyone saw you or not, but you’ve got to learn that there is a time and place for everything.”
“That’s not what I was going to say, Gehne. I didn’t come back alone; I met a fine gentleman, and he was kind enough to escort me home.” She lifted her arms over her head as the nurse pulled the grey dress off over her head. She felt light and free in the simple unbleached shift; the dress was beautiful, but rather heavy, and the corset added another ten pounds, along with its constriction.
She sat on a low stool at her nurse’s feet, and Gehne combed her hair. Suka closed her eyes and let her spine relax; the comb moved smoothly through her hair, the teeth gently raking across her scalp. After all the tangles were smoothed out, Gehne picked up a thick-brisled comb and ran it over Suka’s hair, until it shone like the moonlit waves. “There. Now let’s just put this up in a braid, and you need to go to bed. It’s been a long day, and you need your sleep.”
As she settled into the soft cushions of the bed, Suka’s mind drifted back to the quiet parlor. The moon had been so beautiful as it shone into the room, falling pale upon the carpet and chairs. The stars…she sighed as she drifted into sleep…the stars seemed so friendly…

The stars wheeled above in the huge dome of the sky. Nothing obstructed the view, and the horizon was empty all around. She could feel herself drifting, bobbing gently up and down upon the waves. She could feel a slight warmth on the skin of her ankle, and looked over to see a young woman with pale skin and ginger hair, asleep in the arms of a dark young man; her hand fell upon Suka’s ankle. The surge of emotion she felt while seeing the other woman surprised her, and she turned away.
The waves turned bright and froze in place, becoming sand dunes under a blazing noon sun. Suka caught a glimpse of green eyes in a pale face, and shuddered. She turned to run, but the other young woman was there again, smiling at her. She felt caught between the two, pulled in both directions at once.
“I want you,” whispered the man with the green eyes. “I want everything you are. Just give yourself to me, and you’ll never have to die again.”
“I want you,” said the ginger-haired woman. “I want you to learn to give yourself up, to give yourself away.”
“She will let you die,” came the words from the green eyes.
“You will die, yes, but you will move beyond death. He would keep you in death forever.”
Suka was confused, mind whirling. She turned her back on both, and saw a small child standing ankle-deep in the eddying sand. She had hair the color of burnished gold, and her eyes were wide and blue; the face was composed, but the eyes belied a deep grief.
“What is it that you want me to do?” asked Suka. The child did not respond, but simply held out her hands. Suka reached out to pick up the child, longing to comfort her; the sand whirled between them, and Suka sank down into the ground, falling through the void, sand around her. Then the sand began to shine, each grain becoming a star in the sky as Suka soared through galaxies.

Suka woke reluctantly, trying to hold onto the sensation of flying for as long as possible. She reached out a hand to touch one of the sparkling points of light, but her fingers met only the smooth cool cloth of her bedsheets.

41ish

2007-11-22T21:55:00.001-08:00

The inert body suddenly jerked, and the dark-haired man rolled over, coughing madly. The sailors gathered around him, and quickly pulled him to safety away from the splintered wood.
“Sir Nekel! We thought you were lost! You were not breathing, and we could not find a heartbeat. The mast fell right through your quarters, and—“
He waved the man away, and sat down on a large metal chest. “I am fine, I think I just got the wind knocked out of me.” He concentrated on the crushed ribs that ground together, and felt them begin to knit. He felt a slight tickle by his eye, and brushed at it with his hand. His fingers came away red with blood, and he chuckled. “Head wounds always look worse than they are. See, I think the skin is already beginning to close up. Just a little cut. Please, go back to your positions, or we will be lost in the waves.”
The sailors looked relieved, though the storm was unabated. Lightning still flashed, crashing down into the ocean with a great hiss of steam. The ship bucked at each crest, and shuddered as it crashed into the troughs. The thunder roared as if determined ot deafen all present, and each sailor believed in his heart that the ship would sink at any moment, and they all wondered at the ambassador’s calm.
When the morning finally dawned cold and gray, the ship had been reduced to little more than the battered sides and keel. Even the ambassador had to marvel that it still floated, but it rod eon the waves like a fish.
They spent two days in that condition, as thirst slowly overtook them in the heat of the days. By night they could see little save the flashes of phosphorescence as schools of fish swam below them. Finally on the third day, one of the sailors gave a hoarse shout, pointing off to the horizon. A low dim shape could be seen just above the water, but it was solid and did not shift, as a cloud would have.
A few hours later, a loud blaring sound roared across the waves; as the occupants of the ship watched, a huge shape hove into view. It was larger than their ship had been, even when it was whole, and it gleamed a dull red in the sunlight. A thin coating of rust gave the body of the ship a rich patina, and the sharp prow cut the water into twin sheets as it advanced.
Nekel had heard of the great Kedonese ships, but had never seen one in person. It rose high above the waves, and great bands of metal traversed its hull like ribs. The prow swept up in a graceful line, and at the top of the line stood a small group of people. They were well-dressed, and he assumed that they were passengers on the great liner.
The ship slowed as it neared the derelict, and the sailors could feel the swell that passed under their keel as the behemoth came to a stop beside their vessel.
A man leaned down from the railing on the great metal ship, and called out, “What in the name of Servak did you fellows do to your ship? Were you trying to catch the lighting from that blew through?” He laughed uproariously at his own joke as his men threw lines across to latch onto the remnants of the wooden vessel. At the end of each line was a small metal ball; as soon as the balls hit the deck, each one blossomed into a rigid flower, latching onto the wood with six panels of sharp teeth. The sailors jumped back in surprise, one of them swearing loudly.
“Our new catching lines! Quite an improvement over the weighted ropes, don’t you think,” yelled the man, watching the sailor’s response. “Gives us a better hold on your ship, of course. I think you’d all be better off to board our vessel though. Yours might give you a rather bumpy ride since she’ll be right in our wake.”
The side of the metal ship opened, and a large walkway descended; it halted a foot or so above the remaining deck of the wooden ship, and the sailors clambered aboard.
“Alright men, let’s swing her around! We’ll lose a few hours on our trip, but we’ve got to get these brave men onto solid ground again!”
The huge ship swung around slowly, metal groaning as it strove to combat the inertia and the mass of the water pressing in on its hull.
The captain met the men at the foot of the gangplank and ushered them aboard. “Welcome, gentlemen, to the Perzelsis! She is the largest, fastest boat of her kind, and few who are not native to Kedon have ever set foot on her decks! May I take the liberty of asking where you are from?”
Nekel bowed uneasily, find it difficult to stand straight on a deck that did not rock underneath him. “I am Nekel, of the Temaltan monks. I am traveling to Kedon as the first ambassador from our lands to yours.”
The captain beamed with effusive goodwill, his swarthy face glowing like bronze. “Well, then, this ship is the finest escort you could hope for! I take it you have never been aboard a mechanical vessel? Well, that’s not too unusual, even the Ersans only have a few of them, and they chose to make their purely military ships. This beauty, on the other hand,” and he stamped on the deck beneath his feet, “is the finest in luxury that Kedonese technology can make. If you will follow me, I shall give you the grand tour of her!”
As they passed through a set of swinging doors, Nekel noted that he had hardly ever seen so uch metal in one place. The buildings on Temala were predominantly made of wood or stone, and the ships were the traditional wooden boats with canvas sails. The walls of the corridor through which he found himself passing were a rich dark wood, bound and riveted with bands of a bright metal that shone in the light from the strange lamps that were hung on the walls.
“What sort of lamps are these? They do not flicker like the ones we use,” commented one of the sailors. The captain nodded, and paused in his walk. “Yes, we have found that there is a certin kind of energy in the world, similar to lightning, that can be produced and used by ordinary men. We channel that energy through wires and a small glass bulb, and it produces this light. We use it almost everywhere, since the energy can be created. We can never run out, and we can create as much as we need.” He turned down a shorter hallway, and opened another set of doors.
“Welcome to the Atrium, gentlemen! I daresay you have nothing like this in your wooden ships!”
Nekel saw immediately that it was true. A wide stairway lead down two flights of stairs onto a floor as large as any building most of the men had seen. The richly carpeted floor was a wide sea of reds and yellows, and the walls were made of the same dark wood overlaid with the bright metal. At the top fo the walls, where he had expected to see a wooden ceiling, the metal bands arced away from the wood, and inter\lacced themselves to form a large web, overlaid with glass. The dome let the natural sunlight pour in, and the Atrium was as brightly lit as the deck had been. The floor was covered with tables laid with brightly colored linens and fine dishes, and at the center was a broad wooden dancing floor. Nekel could see the dias where the musicians would sit, and at the far end of the room, the entrance to the kitchens. The doors were made entirely of the shining metal, and seemed to have many separate panels.
The caravan wound through the hall, the captain’s rich voice bouncing off the walls and ceiling. The sailors were completely captivated, Nekel noticed, and he himself was impressed despite his best efforts.
On the far side of the hall, they entered into another corridor, this one somewhat plainer than the other, though still more opulent than any of the men were accustomed to. More lamps hung on the walls, casting their same steady yellow glow. Spacious rooms opened off the hallway, each lit by a skylight similar to that in the grand dining hall. “Our parlours are often frequented by our passengers; they are warm even on the chilliest days at sea, and provide a comfortable place to gather.
At the end of the hallway was a large door, of the same wood and metal construction as the others, but it did not appear to have a knob or handle of any kind, save a gleaming lever in the center. The captain pushed the lever down with a click, and the panels of the door telescoped into the walls with a smooth mechanical whirr, and left the way clear to proceed.
“I am afraid that I cannot offer you any of our first-class staterooms, as they are all booked. I can, however, fit you up quite comfortably in some of our second-class rooms. We should be underway no more than an hour. It would be less time, but it can sometimes take upwards of twenty minutes to dock. The ports are getting so crowded these days. “ As he spoke, he took a large key from his waistcoat pocket, and turned it in the lock. At the final click, the door split down the middle, releasing the key; each side of the door retreated into the wall, and the captain ushered Nekel into the room. “Please, gentleman, you will excuse me; I must see to it that the ambassador is settled. The porter is coming for you to escort you to your rooms—ah, yes, there he is now. Thank you and enjoy your stay aboard the Perzelsis!”
Nekel stepped into the room, boots sinking into the deep rug on the floor. The captain’s effusive voice faded into the background as he moved over to the window; it rose from the floor to the ceiling, and had a solid web of metal on both sides. As he leaned closer, he could see strands of the metal even running through the glass.
“Very well, then, ambassador, if the room is satisfactory, I will take my leave of you. If you will look behind that door there, you will find a bathing room. I dare say you might feel like taking a good soak after floating out in the open like that for two days.”
As the door closed behind the captain, Nekel pushed the lever on the door to the bathroom. A solid-metal tub met his eyes; a gleaming spout arced from a mass of shining pipes set into the wall, and there were many small wheels and gears. He cranked the handle with the symbol for “hot” on it, and water streamed into the basin, steaming. As it poured, the wheels and gears spun, tossing little reflections across the walls. The Temaltan took a deep breath, and felt the steam fill his lungs and ease his breathing. He adjusted the other handle, making sure that the water would not scald him, then stripped off his tunic and trousers, and stepped gratefully into the hot water.
Forty minutes later, he tied the cord around the dressing robe that he had discovered in a cabinet as the last of the grimy bathwater swirled down the drain.
Walking back into the bedroom, he saw that a change of clothes had been laid out on the bed. They were a far cry from the fine clothes he knew he would be expected to wear as an ambassador, but they were much better than the battered tunic and trousers that had survived the days at sea. He pulled on the deep red trousers, and slipped a mustard yellow shirt over his head. The waistcoat matched the trousers and he buttoned it, noting the rather awkward fit; the man for whom it had been made must have been somewhat narrower in the ribs than he was. A long green coat was laid out on the bed, and he picked it up. Slender rods of metal were sewn into the vertical seams, and as he pulled the coat on, he could feel his back being forced into a more upright position by the metal.
A loud metallic squeal sounded dimly outside, and he peered out the window. A large city was coming into view, the shining shapes of other ships passing by on their way to and from the docks. The buildings of the city rose blindingly into the sunlight, sparkling almost as brightly as the waters of the sea.
Nekel left the room, and made his way out onto the uppermost deck, having inquired the way form a porter he met in the hall. There were many people milling about the deck, enjoying the breeze. He could hear one or two shrill complaints about the delay, but most of the passengers seemed to be in no particular hurry. He noticed one young woman in particular. She stood next to the railing, her skin pale against the rich crimson of her dress. The dress hung in a long straight line, but was held tight against her slim form by an elegant metal corset that fitted around her torso. As he looked around the deck, he could see that most of the women, especially those of what appeared the be the noble classes, wore such corsets; they almost looked like a flock of birds in cages, he thought to himself. The girl’s dark hair made him think of a raven; she moved somewhat languidly, and seemed to be lost in her own thoughts.
“Sir Nekel?” He heard a voice behind him, and turned. One of the sailors approached him, dressed in clean clothes. “Sir, it is almost time to dock. The captain will wish as short a turn-around time as possible, so it might be well-advised to wait near the gangway.”
Nekel nodded absently, and moved towards the steps that lead down to the lower decks; he tossed one last look over his shoulder. If only he could catch a glimpse of her eyes!
The ship came to a halt several yards from the shore; one of the deck hands gave a loud unintelligible cry, and there was a muffled boom. Two strong cables shot out from the sides of the veseel, and latched onto the dock. With another cry, the deckhand threw a switch, and the cables began to be wound back on twin winches, pulling the boat into the dock very slowly.
The gangway clanged down, and the Temaltan party came down onto the platform; a small crowd had assembeled, some of the unabashedly craning their necks to see one of the famous warrior monks.
“I thought their order had died out years ago,” one well-dressed woman whispered to her husband.
“Oh, not at all. They used to control most of the planet, but their power waned somewhat after their war with the Astaldi people. Most Ersadans now have never seen a Temaltan monk; this is the first time they have sent ambassadors out to the larger world in almost a millennia.”
Nekel heard the whispers, but kept walking, wishing that he could have had clothes in less bright colors. He did not feel comfortable in such an outlandish getup, and wanted nothing more at that moment than to arrive safely at the ambassadorisal residence so that he could find some clothing more suitable.
The Temaltan sailors surrounded him, and escorted him through the crowd to a waiting carriage. He did not see any deshas harnessed to the vehicle as he climbed in, but after he and his men were seated, a large belch of smoke erupted from a pipe at the front of the coach, and the wheels rumbled into action. With a jerk, it begamn moving; the driver who sat atop a small seat just behind the smoke stack wore a long coat, grimy from the smoke, and a pair of bright metal goggles.
As the strange vehicle lurched along the streets, Nekel looked out of the windows at the city. While it had blazed brightly like a flame from the seaside, at ground level he could see the film of grime that the smoke of the factories had left. He had not seen the factories themselves, save for the brief glimpse of the massive buildings from the deck of the ship, but they were legendary. The Kedonese, once they had developed the physical sciences, had become enamored of technology, and built factories so large they were almost cities in themselves. They supplied technology, weaponry, and machinery to the rest of the planet. A hundreds years ago, they had begun building boats of metal; many of them sank to the ocean floor before they began to perfect the arts of ship building, overturned by waves or sunk by rocks on the shallow continental shelf surrounding the island nation. Now glass-bottomed vessels routinely sailed over the wrecks to give paying passengers a look at their history.
Nekel’s musing were cut short by the forward lurch of the carriage as it came to a halt. He untangled himself from his traveling companions, and stepped down from the carriage. The building in front of him was small by comparison with others occupied by the Kedonese nobility, but it was as large as any of the buildings he had seen on Temalta, save only the novices’ sleeping quarters. The reddish stone rose three stories above the ground, accentuated by a pale marble that formed the corner columns of the building. A pattern of metal stars was emblazoned over the door, and as he entered the place, he saw the same pattern inset into the floor of the entryway. He smiled slightly at the irony, remembering bronze stars in a stone floor, and lifted his eyes to the hall that stood before him. The room rose all three stories, each of the other stories ending in a balcony that overlooked the entrance. Rows of columns supported the balconies, and at the far end of the hall stood a great glass window, facing north.
“Greetings, sir, and welcome to Kedon. We are very happy to have you here.” A thin man with bronze skin stepped out from the left wing of the building, and bowed. He was dressed in the Kedonese fashion, in brightly colored shirt and trousers, with a stiffly buttoned waistcoat that accentuated his slim figure. His long black hair was pulled back in a metal band, and fell in a tail down his shoulders.
“The architecture is a bit out of date, perhaps, but the building is still quite lovely. I believe it will be very good for greeting guests and lodging emissaries.” He bowed gracefully, despite the metal rods in his waistcoat that Nekel knew must be constricting. “I am Tirol, the steward. I have arranged for the rooms to be readied for you and your men. We can save the tour of the grounds for another day; I am sure you would like to rest after such an arduous voyage. Now, if you will just follow me.” He moved swiftly to the stairs that wound upwards on the left side of the hall, and began climbing. Nekel followed him, and the other men came behind, marveling at the height of the room. When they reached the top fo the staircase, they saw that the third balcony was in fact, a rather narrow façade; one could stand and look over the balcony, but there was not room for much else. Tirol opened a door in the back of the wall and lead the company into the living quarters.
“I have been instructed that you are not accustomed to much grandeur or the usual accoutrements that we accord to nobility here, so the rooms have been left very simple, at least by our standards. If anything needs ot be added or removed, please let me know and I will ensure that it is done. Gentlemen, you may find your rooms off to the right, adjacent to the balcony. Sir, if you will follow me again.” He turned toward a door on the left, and pressed two levers into the door; Nekel could hear a slight whirring, then the door slid to the side, and they entered.
“Now sir, to lock this door, you have only to press this lever here, on the inside. After that is done, the door can only be opened by this key.” Tirol held up a small key on a chain that hung around his neck. He delicately took off the chain, and handed it to Nekel with a small bow. “There are no copies of the key, for your privacy and safety, so please be assured of your privacy here. The bathing room is right through that door, and you will find a new set of clothes appropriate to your station and your tastes in that wardrobe over there. If you wish, I can show you more of the room, since you may be unfamiliar with some of our ways; however, if it will be more convenient for you, I shall retire and let you rest and accustom yourself to the room and the residence.” He stood straight and still, waiting to see what orders Nekel would make.
“Thank you, Tirol, I am very tired. I would like nothing better than to sleep for a night and a day, but I will settle for just a night. I believe it is late afternoon now, so I will retire. Please wake me in the morning.” The steward bowed, and was gone swiftly, the door clicking closed behind him. Nekel pressed down the lever, and heard well-oiled machinery slide into place.
With a nod of satisfaction, he undressed, and fell into the large bed. He was asleep almost as soon as he pulled the thin sheet over his head

40ish

2007-11-22T21:52:00.000-08:00

Over the years, many other young men and women would find their way to the island and make their home there. The community grew, and eventually Tsuda was forced to draw up a rule of life for those who lived there. At first, she resisted being the leader of the community, insisting that the blessed Mede knew more and was more suitable to the role; Mede declined, claiming that her family needed her time, and she would not be able to give enough time to the order.
So Tsuda became the head of the new movement, and took the name Sulan; she left the former name as she left the former life she had lead…
And so Sulan bound a book of her remembered lives, and all that she had learned in her sixty years on the island among the Children of Suk, setting down the rule of the order, and the command to leave behind hatred and fear, learning to love. The book was richly decorated in her own hand, and the Children of Suk have preserved it intact ever since. They will not reveal where the book is kept, but when a novice is ready to commit completely to the service of Suk, it is said that they are shown the book.
And so, having completed her life’s work, the Blessed Sulan lay down and her soul took flight. Some of the younger novices said that she had flown to the stars, but those who knew her best claimed that they did not see her soul in the sky, and that she had merely flown into the next life.
They buried her on one of the central islands, and to this day, the exact location of her burial place is not known, for the order keeps it a secret, for fear that the Temalans should descrate her remains. But they erected a memorial to her on the first island; it was a large winged figure, reaching for the stars, a design purportedly taken from the book she had made. It can still be seen there today.
-------from the Life of the Blessed Sulan, by Mei Nevrekti

Nephan stirred, groaning, and sat up. His head was a roaring maelstrom of pain, and it took a moment for him to remember where he was. He could still feel the flies crawling on his skin, and made a motion as if to brush them away. His fingers quickly met the wires, and he let his hands drop. His head pounded, and he took a deep breath. He heard a small hiss from the wall nearest the bed, and the pain in his skull eased as the oxygen content in the room rose.
“Greetings, Master Nephan.” The voice spoke calmly into his mind; the new interface had a slight accent but he couldn’t quite place it.
“And who are you?” he grumbled, slipping into his red robe. His head still throbbed, and he sat on the edge of the bed for a moment before standing and walking into the room that held the machine.
“I am Ked.”
“You don’t talk much. An improvement on the last one, then. Good. I am going to the Guild Hall to speak to the Recorders. I believe my hook-up is long overdue for a cleaning. Please see that it is done so that the machine is ready for use again as soon as possible.” He walked out, and stepped onto the walkway. His thoughts raced; there were many causes for awaking with a headache after a projection. It was tricky business, and somewhat difficult, even for those as practiced in the art as he was. But the possibility of an error nagged in the back of his mind, and he could not completely ignore it. Had he made a change, by sending the Ersan to his death? He shrugged slightly, unwilling to keep the thought in mind. The headache was fading rapidly, and it was probably nothing. He walked through the door to the Guild Hall, and headed directly for the room of the Recorders. Only one Recorder was currently available, and he entered the room quietly.
The Recorder looked up, and almost winced. “You are Adept Nephan of the second order? Yes, I see you are. What brings you to the Recorders today?”
“I need to find a good shell for Projection into the Kedonese Renaissance. I know that few of our people were present on Kedon at the time, and I would like to see if there is anyone who could make an appearance without too much danger of changes to our own time.” Nephan kept his voice low and controlled, masking the urgency he felt. When the Council realized he was in the building, they would surely ask to see him, and he wished to avoid that if at all possible. Rudeness to the Recorders, however, would get him nowhere, so he held his peace for the moment.
“Hmmm…not too many deaths then, comparatively. There was a change in policy regarding the training of novices, and training deaths become virtually unknown. It weakened the ranks, but we had greater numbers. The usual ebb and flow of customs, you know.” As the Recorder rambled, the green light flickered over the whites of his eyes as information was brought to him. “Ah…now there’s an interesting one. Apparently, Temalta sent an ambassador to Kedon. It doesn’t say why. We didn’t go far beyond our own lands at the time, but perhaps the masters wanted someone to keep an eye on the rising power of Kedon. At any rate, a lightning storm sprang up around the ambassador’s ship, and a bolt hit the mast. It fell, and crashed through the deck, killing the ambassador. The ship finally made it to the Kedonese lands, but just barely.” The Recorder looked up, his eyes clear again. “Will that serve your needs, Adept?”
Nephan nodded, anxious to leave the Hall again as soon as possible. “Yes, that sounds wonderful. Please have the information necessary sent over to my machine as soon as possible. I plan to set out again as soon as the machine is cleaned.”
He turned and exited the room, his red robes whispering along the floor. As he walked by the statue of Learan the Projector, one of his colleagues stopped him. “Nephan, were you just on a Projection? Did you change anything?”
“Yes, but I don’t think I changed anything of any significance. Why?”
“Because a good hundred of us developed screaming headaches earlier today. You know the dangers in making changes. Even small ones can cause a small disconnect; and a significant change will drive those involved mad.” He focused his piercing green eyes on Nephan’s face. “You are getting reckless. You changed something, and the Councilors will know it soon. Be careful.”
The Historian shook him off, and quickly walked down the hall and out the door. As he sped along on the walkway, his eyes were drawn to the moon that hung large in the night sky outside of the dome. He could make out the complex that held the telepaths, and wondered briefly if his short venture into the Guild Hall had already been recorded and stored in their brains.

He had been noticed by the optical sensors in the gates as soon as he entered the hall, but since the Councilars had not expected him back so soon, they had not programmed the gates to alert them to his presence. The record of the green-eyed man passed through their fibers and machines, and up to the moon. A telepath stirred slightly at the sight, eyes fluttering. The moment passed, and she fell back into the deep dreaming.
Nephan plugged himself into the machine, noting the new wires. The old ones had gone out of date while he lay in the Projection, and Ked had instructed the cleaners to replace them after they had finished cleaning the machine.
The Historian lay back in the bed, and his machine flashed the images and memories of the dead ambassador into his mind. He fixed his thoughts on the past, and slowly slipped away, body trembling, then lying perfectly still.

39ish

2007-11-22T21:50:00.000-08:00

Tsuda tucked a stray strand of hair back up under the cloth around her head, and went back to pulling up the vegetables that would be used in the stew that day. She brushed the loose dirt off the bulging roots, and laid them on a clean cloth that she had spread on the ground. The sun blazed down overhead and she felt a bead of sweat make its ticklish way down her spine.
She heard the rustling of plants behind her, and turned to look. Mede casme through the foliage, a tiny infant cradled in her arms and swathed in cloth to protect him form the rays of the sun. “Are many of them ripe yet? I wasn’t sure how fast they might grow.”
“They look ripe, I doubt they’d get much bigger if I left them in the ground.” She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of a grubby hand, leaving a streak of damp earth across her brow. “And how is little Meikan doing today? Did he finally decide to take a nap?”
Mede nodded, and held out the little bundle to Tsuda, who took it carefully, and pulled the edge of the blanket back from the baby’s face. Two wide brown eyes looked up at her sleepily, and Meikan yawned, his breath smelling faintly of warm milk. She laughed, and gently brushed his thick brown hair off his forehead. “I don’t think I ever saw a baby with so much hair before! He looks so much like you, aside from the color of his hair.” She gently handed the baby back, and gathered up the cloth with the vegetables, and the two women walked back towards the small hut in which Mede and Judak had made their home.
She set a large wide-mouth jar on the small rock stone and lit a fire under it. She left the fire to heat, and drew water from the well and poured it into the pot. In a little while, the water was bubbling slowly, and she dropped the cleaned vegetables into the pot, along with a small bird that Judak had shot and cleaned.
“Meikan’s sleeping again, so I’ve got a few minutes. Is there anything I can help you with? I hate to have you doing everything,” Mede said, leaning against the wall.
“Oh, don’t be silly. You still need to be resting. Meikan was only born a week ago, and you haven’t quite recovered yet. The stew should be ready in an hour or so, I just need to make sure to stir every so often.”
They heard the sound of runnig feet, and turned towards the door in time to see Judak rush in. “That trading ship just landed again. I don’t know if this is a normal stopover for them, but if they are stopping for water, they will surely see our house. Mede, take Meikan and go into the forest, away from the lake. Just in case something happens, I don’t want them to know that you are here. Tsuda, you go with her; I can pretend that I am a fisherman making my home here for a few months.”
The women quickly slipped out of the door, and headed into the trees. They could hear the sailor’s voices, laughing as they came up the road. Tsuda stopped for a moment to look behind her, and saw a flash of bright blue through the trees, and heard a young woman’s voice calling out, though she couldn’t make out the words. She saw Judak come slowly out of the hut, and speak to the woman and the sailors for a moment.
Looking back towards the trees, she could no longer see Mede and Meikan. “At least they’ll be safe,” she thought, and retraced her steps. As she emerged from the trees near the edge of the clearing, the little group of newcomers turned towards her.
“Tsuda?” asked Kaedti, taking a tentative step forward. The women who stood before her had her friend’s bright purple eyes, but she looked older than she should, and her hair was hidden behind a scarf.
“Kaedti? What are you doing here?” Tsuda whispered. The slim figure in the blue skirt was no longer the uncertain girl that Tsuda had known on Mei; the two years under Vedek’s rule had sharpened her and brought her into adulthood. She stood straight, chin up, and looked directly into Tsuda’s eyes, something she had not done often when the two lived on Mei.
“I came because I have nowhere else to go. My father is dead; they made sure that everyone on Mei saw him set out for Ersa, then sank the ship before he could get halfway across the ocean.” Her voice was calm and measured, though Tsuda could see her eyes blazing. “I heard that you and Mede were here, and I wanted to be here with you.”
Tsuda turned away, and looked out over the island and out to the horizon, where the sea sparkled in the sun. “Kaedti, you have no idea how much seeing you here brings joy to my heart. You have grown into a beautiful young woman. But I live here to make reparation for the evils I’ve held in my heart, and to learn to free my soul from anger, fear, and hatred. It wouldn’t be like our classes again, Kaedti.”
The young woman stepped closer, until her face was only inches from Tsuda’s. “I don’t want it to be like classes again. I want to know more of what you know. I want the monks gone as much as anyone. I pity them, and they disgust me, but I do not hate them. Do you know what I saw in your statues? I was too young then to know how to tell you what I saw, but I had two years to think about them. I saw life, and joy, hope, and a hint of the glory of the gods. The monks had always told the Astaldi that spirit cannot and must not be portrayed in earthly things, and I had almost begun to believe it myself, but your statues did away with all of that. It was as if goodness, beauty, even truth, had been made rpesent to my eyes in a way that all the words in the world never could have done. I don’t know what it was that inspired those works, but whatever it was, I want to learn it.”
Tsuda put her finger tips to her temples, trying to think. This was no place for a refined young woman like Kaedti; she was used to servants and dinner parties, not manual labor and cooking. And she held roughly to the beliefs of the Astaldi, since they were similar to those of the Ersans. What would she think about the ancient ways of Suktis? And would she understand about the past lives? Would she be willing to look back into herself?
“I want to say yes, Kaedti, since you are so eager to be here. But why not go home? Why not go back to your own people on Ersa? Surely they would be eager to receive you again. You would even be able to tell them about wht the monks are doing, and even do some good that way.”
Kaedti shook her head. “The monks carefully patrol all large ocean-going vessels, and even those they let pass through are often attacked by raiders. It is not safe.” She let her eyes drift out towards the ocean, and the outlying islands in the distance. “Besides, I have more memories here than in Ersa. I have accepted the Astaldi as my people, and I would not leave even if I could.”
Her voice dropped down into an intense whisper, and for the first time, Tsuda noticed the brightness of her eyes, as if tears were waiting to burst forth and it was taking all of her energy to hold them back. “Please, Tsuda. I will go where you go, stay where you stay. Your people have already become my people, and whatever gods you serve will be my gods.”
Mede had quietly come out through the trees to see what was happening, and was surprised to see Kaedti standing there. She could not hear the conversation that took place, but she could see the torn look on Tsuda’s face, and the expression of pleading on Kaedti’s. She sent up a wuick prayer for she knew not what, and watched quietly.
Tsuda stood in silence for a long time, thinking. Finally, after what seemed like ages to Kaedti, she turned and gave a small nod. “It is not the way that I would have planned for you, Kaedti. It will not be the life you were accustomed to, and many parts of what you want to learn will be very painful.” She sighed, and placed a hand on the younger woman’s shoulder. “But love does not happen in isolation; if you have come to us, then we need you as much as you need us. So, welcome to the island.”
Mede saw a look of relief flash across the young woman’s face, then she sank to the ground by Tsuda’s feet, and clung there, trembling.
“Kaedti! What’s the matter? Isn’t that what you wanted?” Tsuda helped her get to her feet again, and supported her with an arm around the waist.
“Yes! Yes, it is what I wanted. I just..it has been a long time since I was at home anywhere, and I have been through so much to get here. I am so happy!” She smiled radiantly and the two made their way slowly up the hill to where Mede, Judak, and Meilan were waiting.

Vedek watched the water slip by under the keel of his ship. In five years, he had no been able to find the Ersan or the Selidian, much less the Suktisian consciousness he sought. They had disappeared into the central islands, and there were hundreds of islands where they might be hiding. He had begun to hear rumors of a religious order, newly risen in the heart of the Astaldaki lands, but he had yet to capture any of its members. Every time he would deduce a possible location for the order, his men would storm an island, to find nothing but ashes in fire rings, the ashes sometimes still warm.
“Bring her ashore at the next island, Nekisti. We need more water, and I want to question the islanders.” Vedek shouted across the desk to the helmsman, who nodded.
In a few hours the boat was docked at one of the channel islands, and the monks quickly disembarked. Vedek directed a few of the younger monks to work at restocking the ship, and made his way with a band of his closest associates to the market place. As they strode through the streets, black robes fluttering in the wind, the eyes of the islanders followed them.
“Astaldi, I am looking for two young women! They have incited riots, and caused the deaths of many of their countrymen, your own people. One woman is pale-skinned, with ginger hair and brown eyes. She is originally from the Selides, and has introduced a foreign religion into your lands. She is easily recognized by her appearance. The other woman is far more insidious. She is Astaldi born, but she has the white hair of the water spirits and the purple eyes of the Suktisian witches from long ago. She can blend into any village by covering her hair, and she may walk among you even now. These women are a danger to you!” Vedek’s voice rose and echoed off the stones and wood of the crude plaza, the men and women pausing to listen. There was something sullen in their gazes, but Vedek did not notice.
“Anyone who turns these women over to us will be doing their people a great service, and you will be paid well for it.”
At that, a ripple of disgruntled mutters broke out, and Vedek looked around at the faces nearest to him.
“You think we would turn over one of our own to you, for money?” spoke one man. He stood calmly, leaning on his bow. Vedek noted the long scar that ran down the left side of his ribcage, and turned towards him.
“I think it is your duty to rid yourselves of someone who has caused you nothing but trouble. I merely wish to compensate you for the information we need.”
A gasp behind him caught Vedek’s ear, and he whirled around just in time to see two of his men fall as knives were pulled out from between their ribs. Behind them stood two women, dressed in men’s pants, a wild look in their eyes. Vedek and the remaining monks instinctively backed into a circle, with Vedek at the center.
More of the rugged-looking men and women made their way through the crowd as the man with the scarred chest nocked an arrow. “These are not your people, Temaltan. These islands are no longer under your control. We live free and we answer to no-one.” He walked forward slowly as he spoke, until he stood just out of range of the monks’ swords. “We have tried to tell you that, of course, but your people seem to be rather thick-headed. We’ve decided to try again; perhaps if we kill the military governor, your homelands will understand that we are not to be trifled with.”
Vedek started at the mention of his position, and the Astaldi laughed coldly. “Oh yes, we know who you are, Master Vedek. We know who our enemies are, and we do not underestimate them. It’s a lesson you should consider learning.” He let the arrow fly, and Vedek could feel it fly by his cheek as he moved to one side. It lodged itself in the spine of the monk behind him, and the man sank to his kknees, groping frantically behind his back, trying to pull the object from his back. The other monks closed the gap, but the Free Astaldi were already upon them. The swords of the Temaltans were little use fighting in such close quarters, and the knives of the Astaldi did not take long to find their marks. The scarred man drew a blade and swiped at Vedek’s neck; the monk swept the blow aside with his sword, and plunged his short knife into the man’s chest.
“This will give you a matched pair, Astaldi,” the monk sneered, but the retort was cut short by the blade that slipped into his own belly. He could feel the warm blood pouring out and down his legs, and he fell, the dead Astaldi beneath him. In a few moments, the monks were all dead, and only three or four of the Astaldi fighters remained standing.

A pale body twitched on a cold bed. Wires that linked into neurons hummed as information ran up and down their length, and into the walls of the room.

One of the Astaldi got slowly to his feet, holding a hand over a wound on his side. “This is the price of tyranny! You cannot dominate us! We may submit for a time, but we will do whatever is necessary to maintain our freedom.” He spat into one of the pale faces of the monks, slowly growing cold on the ground. The saliva mixed with the blood that ran from a deep gash on the man’s forehead, and spilled to the ground.

The Astaldi sank to his knees; he pulled his hand back from the wound, and a gush from the wound stained his side and leg with crimson. He fell forward, face laying on the hard stones of the pavement; his last breath exited his body with a laborious wheeze, and his eyes grew dim. The flies buzzed for a moment in the late afternoon heat, then settled on the dark skin and the pale.

38ish

2007-11-22T21:49:00.002-08:00

Kaedti paced restlessly by her window, skirt swishing quietly over the stones. She could see a ship being unloaded on the docks, and was waiting for some of the sailors to pass by her window. Vedek might be able to keep her inside her house, but he could not keep her from speaking to those who passed by her window. She had heard nothing of her father since he was sent away over two years ago, but she expected an Ersan fleet to come into the harbor any day.
Finally, she noted, the sailors were hoisting their bags onto their shoulders and making their way up into the town. She waited until they were close, and waved a red cloth out of the window. Well acquainted with this routine by now, the sailors glanced around to check for guards, and stood outside the upper story window.
“Any news from abroad, gentlemen? Tell me what you’ve seen and heard lately.”
“Nothing so beautiful as you, lady,” one of them shouted, and the others laughed. Kaedti reigned in her impatience, and forced a laugh, tossing a small gold coin to the sailor. “Now, tell me something I haven’t heard before!”
“There was a riot in the marketplace on Selni last week. The monks demanded a higher tax on the merchants than they were willing to pay. Five stall keepers were killed, but they got two monks, so all those who protested were taken to the prison.”
“There is an envoy from Kedon that arrived in the outer islands in the west last month. They are hoping to establish a better trade route, and perhaps send an ambassador to one of the islands.”
“There was a goat on Leji that had a kid with two heads!” The other sailor turned to look at the one who had mentioned this odd fact, and he shrugged. “I thought it was interesting.”
Kaedti smiled, and handed the man a gold coin, and gave one to each of the others who had told their news. One young sailor in the back of the crowd stepped forward, and she acknowleged him.
“My lady, I am a sailor on a ship that follows the currents into the central islands. We often make stops at the islands we know to be uninhabited for fresh water. When we were on our way back from our latest vvoyage, we made our usual stop, but found that the island was no longer uninhabited. Three people lived in solitude there; a young man and his wife, expecting their first child, and a young woman about your own age. She kept her face and head covered, but her eyes were the brightest purple I have ever seen. After I assured the young wife that I would tell no-one about their presence on the island, lest it get back to the monks, she told me that they had come to the island to escape the dominance of the Temaltans, and to practice their religion in peace. I do not believe that that was the entire reason for their presence there, but I did not feel that I should press them further.”
Leaning out of her window, Kaedti pressed several coins into the man’s hand. “But tell me, if you gave them your word that you would let no-one know of their presence on the island, why have you told me?”
The man smiled, his white teeth striking a brilliant contrast with his skin; “Lady, just before I left to return to my ship with the supplies we needed, the woman with the purple eyes pulled me aside. She asked if I knew of the island of Mei, and I assured her that it was one of the stops on our voyage. She then inquired if I knew of the daughter of the Ersan ambassador, and again I told her that I knew of you. I told her a little of what had happened in recent years, and she seemed disturbed by the news. She asked me to tell you that she is safe, and that you should not worry.”
Kaedti was breathing quickly, heart racing; Tsuda and Mede safe, and hidden in the central islands! Her mind raced, invernting and discarding a hundred plots for escape to the island.
“The rest of you may go, and thank you for your information, it is much appreciated!” She signed to the sailor who had mentioned the island to stay behind. She waved to the men as they set out on the roaqd again, and turned back to the sailor.
“You know where the island is? You can find it again?”
“Oh, most assuredly. It is one of our common stops.”
“When will your ship set sail next?”
He thought for a moment. “We must take on new supplies and a new cargo, as well as make some necessary repairs. Perhaps in a month?”
“If I can contrive to get out of these walls, can you smuggle me aboard your ship, and let me off at the island? I can give your captain whatever price he wants to pay for my passage.”
The sailor looked dubious, but replied that he thought he could.
“Good. When I am ready with my plan, I will hang this green cloth outside my window. If you are walking by and see that cloth, please come to the window.” She tossed down a small leather bag of coins, and he caught it deftly. He tossed the small bag lightly in his hand, listening to the jangle of the coins, and grinned. “Very well, lady! I will watch for the green, and we will get you out of that tower yet!”
Kaedti turned back to the small room with a determined look on her face. It would require all of her skills to escape, but it just might be possible now. She set about making her plans, heart racing with misgivings, worries, and hopes.

“This trunk is to go down to the docks tomorrow morning,” Kaedti told the monk who stood outside her door. “I am packing some things to send to the new Kedonese ambassador in the western islands, as a gesture of good faith from Ersa. Make sure that it arrives there before the ship sails at noon.”
The monk looked at her with a hint of suspicion in his eyes. “Which ship does it go on?”
“The only one bound for the western islands tomorrow, of course. It will be wooden, and have large sails made of cloth,” she remarked wryly. “Will that help? If you cannot find it from that information, then you are as foolish as my father always said.”
The monk snorted, and turned away. “The trunk will arrive at the docks on time, never fear.” She shut the door to her room, and turned to her maid. “Laedi, it’s almost time. I am afraid that they will question you when I’m gone. Please, try to get away if you can. See if they will let you go to the market when they deliver the trunk to the docks.”
The girl nodded, and smiled bravely. “I know the risks of what I am doing. I will not tell anyone how you got out.”
The rest of the night was spent preparing, and in the early hours of the morning, Kaedti curled herself up tightly into the trunk, giving thanks for her petite size. Laedi arranged a pile of rich fabrics in the space at the top of the trunk, and closed the lid. She took a large chunk of sealing wax and, melting it with a candle, applied generous daubs to the front of the trunk, and sealed it with Kaedti’s personal seal, as well as the Ersan seal that the ambassador’s daughter had left in her room.
A moment later, there came a knock at the door, and two of the monks entered the room.
“Do not enter before my lady bids you,” scolded Laedi, scurrying the draw the curtains around the bed, which she had arranged to make it look as if Kaedti was still asleep. “You will wake her! Just take the trunk and be gone with you.” She grabbed a basket and made for the doorway, until one of the monks blocked her way. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To the market! My lady is not feeling well, and she needs an herbal tea. I do not have the plants that she needs here, so I am going to get some.”
“We will walk with you. The market is on the way to the docks, and you can make sure that we don’t upset your mistress in any way.” The man’s voice dripped sarcasm as he picked up one end of the trunk. He grunted, and motioned to his companion to pick up the other end.
The strange trio made their way slowly to the market, where Laedi selected some simple herbs from the vendor and stowed them in her basket. She turned as if to proceed back to the house, but was stopped by the monks again.
“You’re coming down to the docks with us. Master Vedek would not like you to be running around Mei nby yourself.”
“But my mistress needs-“
“Your mistress needs to learn her place in the world, is what she needs,” grumbled one of the monks, picking up his end of the trunk again. The strange procession slowly moved down towards the docks, where they found the ship preparing to leave for the western islands. The captain glanced quickly at his first mate, who nodded slightly. “Is this the goods from the lady Kaedti? She told us that she had an important shipment to take to the new delegation in the western islands.”
“Yes, this is it. But I think we shall open it and inspect it before we leave; we want to make sure that the lady gives a correct and appropriate representation of this island.” The monk drew his knife to cut through the wax seals, but the first mate stepped between the monk and his ccargo.
“I’m afraid we cannot allow that. Lady Kaedti has paid us well to take care of her gift, and I do not think that she would care to send it to the Kedonese with the seals broken open.”

The younger of the two monks made a motion to draw his sword, but the other placed a hand on his chest. “Leave it,” he muttered under his breath. “At worst she has smuggled out some messages, but we can deal with that. After all, we have keep the sinking of her father’s ship a secret from her for two years, we can silence any message she might try to send.”

Inside the chest, Kaedti’s heart seemed to stop as she heard the muttered words. She blinked back angry tears, and strengthened her resolve to escape. She felt herself lifted onto the ship, and the trunk stacked with other boxes and cargo to be loaded, then carried down into the hold. A few moments later, the lid cracked open, and the dark face of the first mate peered in. “Are you alright in there? I was worried that you wouldn’t have enough air.”
Kaedti’s face and neck were beaded with sweat, and she took a deep breath of the cooler air in the hold. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you. Will you let me know when you’re under way? I don’t want to come out until we are well away from the shore.”
The first mate nodded, and closed the lid of the trunk again.
Back on the shore, the two monks turned to go back to the ambassador’s house. “Where is that maid?” one of them asked, looking around.
“I don’t know, she was here a moment ago. She must have left while you were wasting time arguing with the sailor. No doubt she is off on a tryst with a stable hand from the market, and will be back in a few hours.”

Kaedti stood by the railing of the ship, and looked up into the stars as they slowly wheeled past the mast. The first moon had risen, and turned the sails into sheets of ice, gleaming slightly in the blue light.
“How many days until we reach the island?” she asked of the first mate as he walked by, checking the sails.
“We must make our regular port stops; this is still a business trip, even if you have paid the captain for passage. You’ll want to stay below during those times. I think we will probably reach the island in two weeks, perhaps three.”
“Can’t we get there faster? I can pay the captain more if he can take me directly to the island. It cannot be more than a week’s direct sailing.”
The first mate roared with laughter, shaking his head. “Even if you could pay enough for the missed business, it wouldn’t be enough. The merchants on the islands trust us to appear on time. Lost time is lost reputation, lost reputation is lost business. I do not think you have enough money with you to pay for our good name.” Seeing Kaedti’s downcast expression, he smiled, and added, “Besides all that, lady, if our ship were to make such a strange trip, to an uninhabited island, someone would surely hear of it, and a report might reach those from whom you are feeling. That is the last thing you want, so let us go about our regular business, and no-one will think anything of it.”
Kaedti nodded, and the first mate went on, checking the sails and rigging.

37ish

2007-11-22T21:49:00.001-08:00

The wooden doors slammed back against the stone walls as Vedek stormed into the Ersan ambassador’s house. A phalanx of monks marched in behind him; with the arrival of the new reinforcements from Temalta, they had finally been able to storm the grounds of the house, and enter it.
“Maedik! You cannot keep us at bay any longer!” The challenge echoed from the walls, and was met with silence.
“Spread out, see if you can find them. Do not harm them, I want to discuss a certain matter with the ambassador and his daughter.” Vedek spat out the commands, and motioned to a group of monks to come with him. He ascended the stone staircase, and began to explore the rooms with his sword drawn. As he drew back the curtains that lead to a lushly decorated sitting room, he saw them. Maedik and Kaedti sat calmly in their chairs, watching him as he entered.
“Maedik, your days of hiding are over. You will be called to answer for your actions.”
“And what actions might those be?” rumbled the larger man, red hair and beard bristling. “Hosting a party? Inviting people into my own gardens?”
Vedek scoffed, “Sedition, treason, blasphemy, and any others that I can persuade the tribunal you are guilty of.”
“Ypou cannot have me executed, you know. The word would get out sooner or later, and then you would have a real war on yyour hands.” Kaedti squirmed uncomfortably at her father’s words, but he did not seem fazed by them.
“No, and I do not intend to have you killed. We shall expel you from this lands, of course, and forbid you or any of your people to return, but there is no profit for us in killing you.” He paused, turning slightly on his heel as he cast an eye towards Kaedti. Maedik rose swiftly, but stopped as he found one of the monks’ swords held against his throat. Vdek continued.
“You see, you have nothing that we need, and we would prefer to see you sail away as soon as possible. However, your daughter was a friend to the woman we are looking for. The people are much in support of her, and until we find her, the resistance on Mei and some of the other islands will be strong. No-one seems to know where she had gone, but it is always possible that your daughter might.”
Kaedti stiffened in her chair as the cold steel of a Temaltan blade whispered across her throat. She swallowed hard, feeling the razor edge of the blade dig ever so slightly into her skin as she did so. She met her father’s eyes calmly, and he slowly lowered himself back into his seat.
“That’s better. Now, young Kaedti, do you know where your friend went?”
The young woman’s voice was full of disgust as she answered. “No. And if I did, I would never tell you. I would rather die before I would give even a rat to you.”
“And if I were asking you for a rat, that might be a problem for you. However, I want something more. And I was not asking.” He nodded to the monk who stood behind Kaedti; he grabbed her hair, and pulled it back roughly, and once again held the sword to her neck.
“Now tell me where she might have gone. There are thousands of islands, but surely she must have had some kind of plan, or even just a preference.”
Kaedti could feel the sharp pressure of the blade on the thin skin at her throat, but she pressed her lips together and refused to utter a sound. After a few moments, Vedek waved a hand, and the sword was resheathed, and the monk released Kaedti’s hair.
“Have it your way, then. Your father will be on the next boat to Ersa, but you will remain here until we find Tsuda, with or without your help.” Maedik roared, and lunged for Vedek, but the younger man dodged his first blow, and before he could reach out again, he found his arms gripped securely behind him. “I will not leave without my daughter!”
“Actually, I think you will. Feruk, Loisti, please escort the good ambassasdor to his ship. We will send his belongings after him; it may take us a few months to pack them up, though.” Still struggling the ambassador was forced through the doorway, and down the stairs. Vedek could still hear his yells until he was out of the house.
He turned back to the young woman to find her staring at him out of wide blue eyes, cold with disgust. “Do not worry, young Kaedti, about your precious body; I am not going to force myself on you, nor will any of my men. We do not mate for pleasure, nor would we do so for procreation with of one your race. You need not fear that. But I can send your spirit flying away with a single stroke of my sword, and I would fear that much more if I were you.”
Kaedti clutched the arms of her chair until her knuckles turned white, but she remained silent.

As the sun rose, the small boat rose and sank on the swells. Judak stowed away the oars carefully. “It’ll soon be too hot to row, and we don’t have any water. I don’t think we should stop at any of these islands, they’re too close to the Free Astaldi. Let’s just float through the day, and wait for nightfall. When it’s dark, we’ll beach on the nearest island.” With that, he unrolled the hammock and carefully spread it over them. The shade was cool at the moment, but Tsuda knew that it would soon get stuffy under the heavy cover; at least they wouldn’t burn, she thought, remembering Mede’s pale skin.
Mede lay quietly in Judak’s arms, but stretched one hand across the boat to lay gently on Tsuda’s ankle. The couple soon drifted off to sleep, but Tsuda remained awake, her thoughts too restless for sleep. The light filtered in greenly through the woven fronds of the hammock, and occasionally, a small breeze would find its way into the boat.
Her thoughts drifted back and forth, between past and present. She gradually sank down into the now familiar trance, falling backwards into memory.

A man with skin like bronze

The tickle of a beard against her belly

A small child giggling

The comfort of a hand to hold

The beauty of the moon rise on a quiet garden

Warm brown eyes set in a pale face

She awoke gradually, not wanting to leave the comforting images behind. She had usually sought out the stronger memories, the ones that tended towards tragedy, as the signposts of her life’s journey. These images were mostly new; they had made a small appearance in her other visions, but only as counterpoints to the tragedy. Now they had swum unbidden to the forefront of her mind’s eye, and she dwelt on them as she rose towards consciousness.
Tsuda held the memories in her heart, feeling them almost like a small but intense flame. She imagined her heart as a metal lamp, empty and cold, and the memories like a candle lit inside the lantern. Her chest ached, and she gasped for breath as the memories swept over her conscious mind. Kaedti’s wide and trusting eyes, Mede’s unasked loyalty, her own parents quiet acceptance and love.
With a quick motion, she threw off the hammock from where she lay huddled, and drank in the fresh sea air. The waters were clear and blue, and the sunlight reflecting from them was blinding. The breeze brushed lightly over the sweat on her forehead, and tossed wisps of hair over her eyes. Her dark skin warmed as the sun poured over it, and for the first time in months, she did not feel empty inside.
“I am not yet who I must become, but perhaps it is enough to be on the path,” she whispered, letting the words drift away on the wind.
The boat bobbed on the waves, drifting swiftly in the current as the islands passed on either side.
As evening fell, Tsuda began to roll the hammock up; Mede sat up to help, and between the two of them, they got it safely stowed away before Judakl woke. Mede looked down at her fiancée and smiled. “I think he’s exhausted. He didn’t really get any sleep last night, and goodness knows he didn’t get much rest on that trader ship. I think I’ll just let him sleep a while.”
Tsuda smiled, seeing the love in her friend’s eyes, and grabbed a paddle.
“I’m going to head for the next island we see. We need water and food, and I don’t want to go another day without them. We’re still in the central islands, I think, so I doubt we’ll run into any of the monks.”
The boat scraped bottom a few hours later, and Tsuda leapt out to pull it up on the beach. By that time Judak was awake, and he and Mede helped to beach the boat. The island was a small one, with no obvious signs of a stream. As they trekked further inland, the trees seemed to be all palms with little edible vegetation,, and Tsuda began to be worried until they nearly fell into a small lake of cold clear water. At the far side of the lake Judak noticed some frujit-bearing trees and went to stock up. After about an hour, he returned, fruit stowed in a rough bag he had quickly woven from two large palm fronds.
“The other beach is just past the edge of the lake; the island is quite small, and as nearly as I can tell, uninhabited. It’s possible that some Astaldi live here, but I didn’t see any signs of it. It might be a good idea to stay here for several days.”
Mede agreed readily, and set about finding stones to build a firepit, but Tsuda stood deep in thought. After a few moments, she walked over to where Mede knelt, clearing a space for the ring of stones.
“Mede, I think that I want to stay here.”
“Yes, Judak thought it would be a good idea to camp here for a few days.”
Tsuda ripped up a dry weed, and tossed it aside. “No, I mean after that. I want to stay here. I cannot go back to Mei, and I have nowhere else to go.” She paused, then continued without looking at her friend. “I want to get rid of this emptiness inside me; I want to remember love. I know I have been loved, in every lifetime, but I have spent too much time focusing on the hatred and anger, the violence, the bloodshed…” she shook her head, and began placing stones in a ring. “I want…” She paused, looking down at the rock in her hand. “I don’t know how to explain it. But I am going to stay here.”
Mede sat back on her heels, looking at Tsuda. The coldness that had occupied her friend’s features for the past months seemed to be melting; her face showed a hint of the animation she had had before leaving Mei.
“I will stay here with you. I’m sure Judak will, as well. We can live here as well as anywhere. Unless you wanted to live alone…” her voice trailed off as she placed the final stone in the circle, and began to pile the dry weeds in the center of the cleared circle.
A small smile crossed Tsuda’s face. “It would be a little pointless to try to learn about love on an island all alone, don’t you think?” In a few minutes, a small fire was crackling in the pit, and Judak brought back two birds he had shot down. He and Mede sat by the fire to pluck and clean the fowls.
“Judak, what would you think about making a home on this island?”
He shook his fingers slightly, which were sore from plucking the birds, and replied, “I think it would be a fine idea. I would be happier here than in Mei whil,e the priests occupy her. There is no other place that has my loyalties, and I will be happy wherever you are.” He plucked the last feather with a flourish, and stood. “Besides, I know that you would not be truly happy unless you were with Tsuda wherever she goes, and I take it that she is staying here.”
Mede blushed slightly, and nodded. “Yes. She wants to stay here. And I think it will be good for her, but I cannot leave her.” She sighed, and set her plucked bird down on a large clean leaf beside Judak’s and stood. “I have been by her side for several lifetimes now, and I do not think I can leave her now. I love her.”
Her fiancée pulled her into a close embrace, and gently stroked her ginger hair. “I know. And I would do nothing to damage that love, or separate the two of you. We will make our home here.”

36ish

2007-11-22T21:47:00.002-08:00

The Astaldi people have always been quick to dancing and laughter, and slow to war. When the Temaltans came, they accepted their presence and continued their lives much as they always had. But when the Temaltans pushed too far, the Astaldi held their ground. The central islands, which were largely untouched by the presence of the warrior monks, became home to many cells of resistance. These groups were violent in nature, and often took roving bands of the monks by surprise, slaughtering them and packing the bodies into boats which were released into the currents for their comrades to find. Many in the islands thought that there would be nothing left of either culture, and there was nothing to suggest that this would not be the case. However, when no-one could have expected it, a light came out of the darkness and blood of the central islands and swept over all of the Astaldak lands. Some have even maintained that it changed the future of the world.

-------from the Life of the Blessed Sulan, by Mei Nevrekti

Tsuda waited in the small clearing and looked around. The man on the last island had told her to come here, and she would find the nearest group of fighters. The tiny island seemed to be uninhabited, but she waited anyway. Mede sat beside her on the grassy ground and felt the warmth of the sun on her shoulders. She closed her eyes, and leaned back against the large rock that Tsuda was sitting on.
She felt like she was about to fall asleep, when she noticed a moment out of the corner of her eye. A small group of men and women had stepped into the clearing, all of them armed. Many of the members of the group carried the bows and arrows that were traditional Astaldi weapons, and they were aiming direcrtly at the two women in the middle of the clearing.
Tsuda slowly stood up, and looked at the leader of the group. He had a long scar running down the left side of his ribcage, and his dark hair stuck out in wild curls.
“What are you doing here? Why do you seek the Free Astaldi?”
“Because I want to fight with you. I want to become one of you. I want to see the monks drown in their own blood.”
The man nodded, and replied, “And so do many in our islands. Only those willing to give up everything can jnoin us. Why should we accept you?”
Tsuda held out a hand slowly. “Give me one of your arrows, and I will show you.”
He looked over his shoulder at one of the women who held a nocked arrow, and nodded to her. She slowly relaxed her arm, and lowered the bow to her side; she extended the fletched end of the arrow to Tsuda, who took it calmly. Mede watched as Tsuda drew the sharp point of the arrowhead across her forearm. The blood ran freely, and began to drip down onto the grass as Tsuda stood still as one of her statues. “I will give everything I have to see that their menace is wiped off the face of this earth.” She reached out with a blood streaked hand and the leader clasped it solemnly.
“Very well, then, mistress. And who is your friend here? Is she a fighter too?”
Tsuda shook her head. “No, she will not fight. But surely you need help in the camp? I cannot leaver her out here by herself, and she will be glad to help in any other way she can.”
Mede stood quietly as the leader looked her over, and slowly nodded. “Very well, we will take her with us. But do not slow us down, or you will be left behind.”
“I can keep up with you,” Mede said in a voice of quiet strength. “We will see if you can keep up with me.”
The boat scraped quietly onto the sand, the sound hidden behind the crashing of the wave. The moonlit water shone like silver, and Vedek wished that the clouds would cover the moons again.
“Move forward,” he called in a hoarse whisper, and the monks advanced cautiously. The tree line was only a few yards away, and they moved stealthily towards it.
As the last line of men entered the trees, an arrow hissed through the air and buried itself into the neck of one of the warriors. He fell to the ground with a soft gurgle, and at first none of the others noticed. But in another moment, scores of arrows were flying through the air. The monks shouted, and dove behind tree trunks, drawing their swords. “They cannot fire arrows forever! Let them spend their artillery, and cut them down!”

Tsuda heard his words from the bush where she hid, and tried to aim for his voice, but he kept himself well behind the tree. With a grimace, she turned away and took careful aim at the gleam of a face that she could see behind a slender palm. Her blazing purple eyes caught the moonlight, and the monk saw them glitter. He opened his mouth to shout a warning, but she had released the arrow, and he fell face down in the sand, driving the arrow yet further into his rib cage.

When morning came, the boat was gone, the remaining monks in it; the bodies of those who had died lay where they had fallen, blood soaking into the ground in congealing puddles. The small band of fighters roved carefully among them, taking any weapon or armor that might prove useful.
Tsuda went over to the man she had slain in the night, and began the grisly task of checking for valuables. As she unlaced his leather belt and scabbard, pulling it off his body, his head tilted towards her and for a moment she looked directly into the glassy eyes. She could see where the blood had splattered his face, and a fly crawled across his lips. She shuddered, and quickly finished the scavenging, piling her finds with all the others.

“How many dead, Herun?” asked one of the women, dumping a few knives and boots onto the pile unceremoniously.

“I counted twelve, but I think we wounded one or two more who will die before they make landfall again.” Herun assigned three of the men to bring their boat from where it lay hidden in the shade of the trees. When it lay on the sands under the warm sunlight, they began loading the new cargo inside. A few minutes later the boat was loaded, and they pushed off into the surf; it was one of Herun’s rules for the cell that they never spend a night on an island where they had been seen by the Temaltans.

Tsuda paddled absently, her thoughts on the pale face of the dead man she had seen at her feet. She had thought that killing one of the monks would fill her with a sense of power, or happiness, or even excitement. Instead, she felt sick to her stomach and fought back a rising tide of nausea. I will not appear weak, she whispered to herself, and redoubled her efforts. The small boat cut swiftly through the water, racing along to another of the central islands.

Vedek raged for three days after the attack. He had traced her to the groups calling themselves the Free Astaldi, and even learned about their presence on that particular island. How was it that he had lost fourteen men, and apparently not killed even one of their number?
He closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. There had to be a way to get to her. He had already informed all the men and women serving as spies that he wished to have her taken alive; her intelligence value to destroying the Free Astaldi cells was invaluable, he had said. Whoever killed her would die slowly and painfully, and htat was a promise.
Over the next few weeks, the reports of Free Astaldi attacks on monks and anyone suspected of collaborating with them came in at a steady pace; the Ersan ambassador continued to rage in his house, and the monks executed anyone suspected of giving information to the Free Astaldi. Trade between islands slowed as the monks inspected every boat entering and leaving a harbor. The merchants screamed imprecations at them until one was slain on the deck of his own ship, ostensibly in self-defence. After that, the overt resistance from the traders fell away, but the sullen grumbling remained. Many trade ships that made runs throught the central islands would have their crews drop a box or two of cargo overboard in the shallows; tbhe Free Astaldi were always in need of supplies.

Mede knelt in the dust by the fire pit, stirring a pot of stew slowly, trying to keep it from burning or boiling over. She thought about the course life had taken over the past year. It had been nearly six months since the desperate night-time flight into the water, and four months she Tsuda had begun to live with the Free Astaldi. They never spoke of what happened during the short trips the band took, and Mede did not care to know. She had almost given Tsuda up as lost to fear and anger in this life, but sometimes when the talked, she could still see a glint of emotion in her friend’s face, and hoped again for a few previous moments.

A scuffle broke out across the clearing, and she swiftly got to her feet. Some of the others in the camp came over to try to see what was happening. Some of the men were dragging a handful of captives into the camp. Tsuda loped into the clearing a moment later, having heard the noise and decided to investigate.

“Herun? Herun! We have caught some of the traitors! They served on a trading ship and they carried a monk on board. When they stopped to refill their water barrels, we came upon them and took these prisoner.” The gathering cfowd murmured, and Mede craned her neck to get a better look. As she did so, one of the prisoners raised his head to speak.
“It was no chjoice of ours! Had he not been allowed on our ship, we would not have been allowed to leave harbor. Many of us have wives and children to feed, and if we did not go on this trip, we would not be paid. Please, we have no more love of the Temaltans than you do; let us go, and we will tell no-one what we have seen here.”
Mede gave a steangled cry as she recognized the worn face of the unfortunate sailor. “Judak!” she whispered. At that moment their eyes met and Judak’s voice faded. “Mede? Mede, is that you?”
Mede did not notice the others staring at her as she pushed her way through them and ran o embrace her fiancée. “How did you find me,” she whispered, tears falling freely down her cheeks.
“You told me that you were heading for the central islands, so I took a job on a trading ship that ran through the islands regularly. I’ve asked about you in every port, and no-one had seen you. I was beginning to give up hope., But what are you doing here, of all places?”
Herun stepped out from the trees, and examined the scene in front of him. “Sulodni, you say that these men were on a trading ship? Well, we cannot allow them to elave, not now that they have seen who we are, and where we are. And you,” he said, looking down at Mede and Judak, “You said that you have been asking about your woman in the ports and towns all through the central islands? That is bad news for you, I am afraid. Now people may notice that you, a missing sailor disappeared while looking for a woman by her description. We can’t have that kind of thing.”
One of the other sailors had been fuming silently for a while, and this pronouncement was the last straw for him. He began to fight violently against those who held him, and shouted in Herun’s direction. “What do you mean, you can’t have ‘that kind of thing’? You mean the kind of love that any decent man has for a good woman? Or do you mean the desperation for work that drives a man to do things he might not, in order to provide for himself and nhis family? None of us wanted that cursed monk aboard our ship, but he came whether we would like it or not. You and your kind aree only making things worse for the rest of our people. You strike out at the Temaltans and then disappear into the night. The rest of us who hav to live in our own towns day and night, are the ones who pay. The monks kill anyone thought to have dealings with you, and now you will kill anyone who is simply on the same ship as one of them? You have become the same as the monks! You—“
His speech was cut off suddenly by the short blade that protruded from his chest. He gasped, small bubbles of bloody foam appearing at the corners of his mouth, then slumped to the ground. Judak looked shocked, and Mede felt ill, and turned her face away from the body on the ground.
Herun lowered his arm, hand on the now empty sheath on his belt. “Never say that we have anything in common with the monks of Temalta! We fight for the freedom of the true Astaldi, those whoi are brave enough to stand up against oppression, those who would rather die than be coerced by the enemy into being or doing something alien to their nature.”
A cheer went up from a few of the men, but others stood in silence, looking at the body that now lay slumped upon the ground. Tsuda stood still, staring in wide-eyed horror.
Herun turned to Mede and Judak. “If you swear to remain with us, and never leave our company, you may remain here. But we cannot allow either of you to leave now, knowing what you have seen and heard.”
Mede straightened up and prepared to refuse the offer, but Judak spoke first. “We will not leave, if that is what is required. I will gladly stay anywhere Mede is.”
Herun studied him for a moment, then nodded. He knelt by the dead man’s body and pried his knife loose. Wiping it clean on the grass, he slipped it back into the small sheath on his belt, and walked away into the trees again.
The next instant, Tsuda saw Judak and Mede locked in an intense kiss, and she looked away. Her eyes landed again on the dead man’s corpse, and her thoughts spun rapidly. How could someone so eager to fight for the freedom of the Astaldak be so ready to kill one of their own? She had heard reports about other Astaldaki being killed by resistance cells, but had assumed that they were all Temaltan informers or more likely, just rumors spread by the monks to spread distrust among the islanders.
But here lay a man who had no apparent loyalties to the monks, and had simply done what nayn man would do to provide for himself and his family…a family that would never see him again. She wondered what they would tell his family; the monks would probably tell them that it was the cost one paid for supporting the Free Astaldi.
She left Mede and Judak alone, and wandered among the trees, trying to clear her mind.

Mede and Judak didn’t bother to get up from the ground where she had knelt beside him. Mede had no home to invite him to, and he had nothing to offer her, so they simply sat in the grass in the clearing. Mede told him of all that had happened to bring her to the central islands, from the night on the branch floating under the stars, to the time spent with Relni and her family, and the two month long search for the Free Astaldi. She cried when she spoke of the changes she had sene in Tsuda, and he held her close. When her story was done, he told her about searchinjg in the ports nad towns for her. Once, he said, his ship had even left him behind; he had had some slight rumor that he pursued until the sun went down. He had run back to the harbor to board the ship, and seen it sailing away, black against the setting sun.
“But nothing could keep me from finding you. I would travel hundreds of years just for this moment, if I had to,” he whispered, brushing her ginger hair out of her face.
Mede cluing to him, her words gone.
Tsuda wandered through the trees for what seemed like hours. Her legs ached and she wanted to sit and rest, but every time she sat down, she found herself leaping back to her feet and pacing. She pressed her fingertips to her temple, and groaned slightly.
“What do I do now?” she whispered. “I cannot stay here, not now…This will never do. Becoming like the monks will not rid the world of them, nor will it bring back those we have lost. It will not even soothe the ache of the memories, but enflames them. Oh gods, I wish I could forget all that they have done, I was happier before I remembered.”
Slowly, the sun sank and the whole island was cast into the short gloom of twilight; one by one the stars came out in the sky. Tsuda watched them, dancing ever so slow a path from one side of the sky to another. The memories of the night sky out on the ocean came back to her, and the sky seemed to glow with a million miniscule flames.
Tsuda felt her legs quiver, and slowly dropped to the ground. She rolled voer onto her back, and saw the cold disc of Lotha heave into view. “Please…if Mede was right, if you are ones who have learned what you needed…olease help me. I no longer know what to do.” Her eyes fluttered, and she slowly sank into an exhausted sleep while the sky wheeled overhead.
She woke suddenly in the middle of the night. Lotha was almost directly overhead, larger than Tsuda had ever seen her, and Lede was racing towards the far horizon. An almost palpable silence lay over the land, and she could see a faint mist rolling in from the sea. As she looked out to the horizon, she thought she could see a large island, one that she was sure had not been there by day. As she watched, a light began to shine from within the island, and she heard a faint voice booming out over the water. The light pulsed brighter, then flashed up into the sky and was gone. A loud crack issued from the island, and she saw it begin to quake. In a few moments, it faded into the mist and was gone. She felt as though her heart had faded out with it. I am empty, she thought, and there is nothing left of me. Is that all there is to me, a shell with nothing inside? Every time I live, I end up empty and aching for something that I do not have.
As she turned back towards the clearing and the hammock that she had striung up for a bed, she saw the pale form of Mede. She was curled up by the side of Judak at the foot of a large tree. Her skin shone silver in the light, and her mouth was slightly open in sleep.
Tsuda couldn’t help smiling as she looked at her friend. Mede had not wanted to be here, she reminded herself. She should be back on Mei, starting her own household, and having beautiful children with Judak, not here in the cold night air, crouched at the foot of a tree.
A tear slipped down Tsuda’s cheek, and she dashed it away. Mede stirred in her sleep, and opened her eyes. She saw Tsuda standing at the edge of the clearing, and sat up.
“Tsuda, are you alright? What are you doing wandering around at this time of the night?”
“I…I don’t know. I thought I was doing what I needed to do, but…” Her voice lowered to an intense whisper. “They…I can’t do this. I want the monks dead, all of them, but not our own people. Not innocent people. I think they would have evne killed Judak if you hadn’t stepped in. Why can’t they just kill the monks and leave everyone else alone?”
Mede sat quietly in the hammock, watching her friend’s distress. After a moment, she replied in a low voice, “Because that’s what always happens. First you begin by taking your revenge on your enemy. Then you must destroy anyone who has helped them. Finally you destroy anyone who does not agree with you. It’s what hatred always does. It will eat you from within, Tsuda; the hatred will devour you, and there will be nothing left, and I will have lost my dearest friend.”
Tsuda looked up, startled, to see great streams lof tears running down Mede’s face. “There is nothing left of me, Mede. I am empty. It is all eaten away.”
Mede shook her head, and slowly climbed out of the hammock. “No. I can see it in your eyes. As long as you can still feel the emptiness, there is something of you left to feel. You cannot give up hope, Tsuda. You can still leave the hatred behind.”
“It will go with me wherever I go.”
“Only if you let it. You could leave it behind tonight. It might take years to completely let go, but you could begin.”
Tsuda looked over her should at the rising moon. “Lotha help me, I do not even know who I am anymore.” She flexed her fingers contemplatively; the moonlight made them look like bones, she thought. She looked out through the trees; in the distance, she could see the light sparkling on the waters. With an ache, she turned away from the sight, only to find Mede standing beside her.
“We can go, Tsuda. We can go tonight, right now, and start again somewhere new.”
The island was silent, as the disc of the second moon rose swiftly over the horizon. Even the insects ceased humming for a moment, and Tsuda could hear her own heart beating.
“Will you go with me?” The words were so quiet that Mede could hardly hear them, but she reached out and took her friend’s hand.
“To the ends of the earth. Beyond, if need be.” The small golden moon seemed to be leaping into the sky, following the lead of the larger colder orb. The twin lights reflected in the eyes of the women as they stood together.
“I want to go. I cannot live like this.” Tsuda’s words were quiet, but firm, and though another tear slipped down her cheeks, she did not waver in her resolve.
“Let me wake Judak, and we will be ready to go. Can you get us around the guards?” Mede asked, turning back towards the hammock.
Tsuda nodded, and Mede shook Judak awake gently, motioning him to remain silent. He looked at her, questions in his eyes, but kept his mouth closed, and got out of the hammock. He silently untied the ropes that held the hammock to the tree, and rolled it up under his arm.
The three made their way quietly down towards the beach. As they neared the edge of the trees, Tsuda could see the dim shapes of the guards at their posts. She whispered under her breath, muttering words as ancient as the seas, calling up the power that she had known in lifetimes past, and the guards heads drooped. One by one, they fell asleep, leaning on their spears and bows, as the little group passed through on their way to the beach. Judak quickly found one of the beached canoes, and pushed it out into the waves. Tsuda and Mede climbed in as it bounced on the waves, and Judak followed shortly after. Handing Mede one of the paddles that were stowed on board, he took the other, and they slowly guided the boat out into the open water. Heading once again for the current that flowed through the islands, they paddled as hard as they could. The little boat floated out under the stars, and drifted through the islands into the night.

35ish

2007-11-22T21:47:00.001-08:00

Mede wiped the sweat out of her eyes as she stood in Relni’s garden. Just across the path, she could see Tsuda bent over, pulling weeds out of the soft earth. Her white hair shone in the sunlight, and her brown skin sparkled with small breads of perspiration as she worked. Something in her seemed to have changed over the past few days; in fact, Mede thought, she seemed different after the night in the cold ocean waves. She seemed older somehow, almost as if she stood taller. The sadness that had accompanied her friend since the day that they reached back into their memories seemed to have been transformed into a sort of solemnity; Tsuda never spoke of the memories now, but her eyes had a distant look, as if she were forever looking back into the past.
“Mede, I have been thinking.” Tsuda’s voice was slightly muffled by the vines that stood between her and Mede. “I do not think that I can ever go back to Mei while the monks still inhabit our islands. I want to go deeper into the central islands. I have heard that there are still Astaldi there who resist the dominance of the Temaltans and I want to join them.”
“You know what I think of the resistance groups. They are too violent, they make themselves as bad as their oppressors. The only thing that you will find among the central islands is hatred and fear.” Mede spoke quietly, tying a fallen vine to a wooden support.
“I am not going to run again, Mede. I have spent nearly three lives being pursued by these monks, and I am not going to stand for it anymore. I will rid myself of them, and if I can prevent them from doing the same things to others, so much the better.”
For a few minutes, the only sounds to be heard in the garden were the rustling of leaves, and the buzzing of insects. Finally, Mede spoke quietly, “I will go with you.”
Tsuda’s head snapped around as she said, “You what? You can’t go with me, it would go against everything that you believe in. You would either begin to fight and betray your own conscience, or you would refuse to fight and get yourself killed. No, you’re going to stay here.”
Mede shook her head, and straightened up, groaning slightly as the muscles in her back protested. “We have been friends for two lifetimes, and I do not think that this is an accident. I think that we should stay together, and if you will not stay here with me, then I will go with you. Besides,” she grinned. “Even freedom fighters need someone to stay behind in the camp and cook.”
Tsuda sat back on her heels, and spoke quietly. “And what about Judak, Mede? Will he be able to find you there? Would he be happy to see you as one of the camp?”
Sudden tears pricked Mede eyelids, but she blinked them back. She could not speak for the lump in her throat.
“Please, Mede, I beg you. Stay here, or go to Selni, or some other place where you and Judak can live happily together. Have lots of fat babies. Name one of them after me,” Tsuda laughed. “Jut don’t try to follow me.”
“I told you what I would do, and I intend to do it. If your love of me will not keep you here, then my love of you spurs me on to follow you. If Judak is meant to find me, he will. And yes, we will name one of our daughters after you!”

Tsuda woke silently in the middle of the night. With a quick glance outside to check the progresson of the moons, she quietly took a handful of fruit from the garden, and a small jug of water. She folded up the skirts than Relni had kindly lent her, and left them on the bed. She quietly wrapped her old sea-ragged skirt around her waist, and walked out into the night.

As she rounded the corner of the street, a voice spoke from the shadowy street. “I thought you might try to sneak out without telling me.” Mede stepped forward into the light, the coldness of Lotha turning her ginger hair almost as pale as Tsuda’s. She too wore the clothing that she had worn when they escaped from the garden on Mei.
“I told you, it is not going to be a place for you, Mede. You should stay here.” Tsuda could not meet her friend’s eyes, and looked down the road.
“And it is a place for you?” Mede was almost in tears as she grabbe dTsuda’s shoulders and shook her. “You will lose your life or your soul if go, possibly both. But understand, if nothing I do will keep you here, then I will go with you, and nothing you do will stop me.”
“Do as you will, then! “ Tsuda whispered as loudly as she dared. “But I will not be held responislbe for your neck.”
The two set off down the road to the beach, neither willing to look at the other. “Do you have a boat?” Mede asked as she felt the loose sand begin to crunch under her feet.
“I had one bracelet left from the party. I traded it to someone for a coracle. I hope it will hold two.” She ducked behind a thick copse of trees, and dragged the little boat out onto the sand. It looked worn, but durable, and Mede didn’t see any obvious leaks or holes. The two women pushed the coracle out into the waves, and carefully climbed in. Tsuda had put a wooden paddle in the floor of the coracle, and quickly picked it up and began paddling, heading out to the current again. She kept her eyes on the horizon, trying to set a course; Mede lay on her back and looked up into the night sky.

34ish

2007-11-22T21:39:00.000-08:00

The moons were almost directly overhead when Tsuda first noticed Mede’s labored breathing. “Mede, see if you can climb on top of the branch and lie down. I think you should be able to float alright there.”
Mede shook her head, and gave another kick to push the wood a little further ahead. “No, I’m alright. Besides, we need to keep steering. We don’t want to get washed up on any island near Leti, not now.”
“Your lips are turning blue, and you’re going to tire yourself out. The current will carry us for now, and I think I can steer it myelf without too much trouble. And I promise, if I have trouble, I will tell you.” Tsuda smiled, her teeth shining white in the light. Mede nodded, and carefully pulled herself up onto the branch and, stretching out lengthwise, was asleep in less than two minutes.

Tsuda looked up at the night sky, the stars hung in the starry dome overhead. She could almost feel them watching her, could sense their love for her, and desire for her to live, to learn. She rolled over and floated on her back to see the sky better. There seemed to be not a single space in the sky that did not have a star shining from it, and she had never noticed that there were so many colors of stars before; some shone red, others green, some blue, and others pure white. Sbhe could feel the gentle swell of the current under her body, and felt almost as if she wer in the beating heart of the world.

The stars spiun slowly across the sky, and the moons slowly sank into the ocean. Dark shapes of nearby islands loomed by on both sides of the unusual craft as it made its way over the face of the waters, moving smoothly along the silvery path that the moonlight cast on the ocean.

Vedek coughed, choking, and spat out a large quantity of sea water. He rolled over and gagged, expelling more salty water onto the sand. He lay on his stomach for a moment, catching his breath. His face flamed, and he knew that he must have been lying in the sun for severl hours. He groaned, and pushed himself up on his knees. He could see a long expanse of beach, but that could have been almost any of the outer islands. The shore curved inwards sharply, which was not promising; any shore with that small a circumference was unlikely to be inhabited, but it was always possible that he was simply on a small peninsula of a a larger island. He pulled himself to his feet, but fell back into the sand before he could take a step.
The monk groaned, and rolled to his knees again. “Very well, I will take things a little more slowly.” He crawled towards the trees at the edge of the sand, taking no notice of the heat that assaulted his palms as he moved forward. In the shade he found a small melon plant, and eagerly picked one of the fruits. His knife had been lost to the ocean, but he found a sharp spur jutting out from a tree where a branch had broken off, and managed to pierce the rind of the melon. After consuming the flesh of the fruit in a few moments, he leaned back against the tree. His head felt a little clearer now that he had had food, and he tried to think about where he might be. The current that had taken the log moved inward through the Astaldak lands, and into the central islands. He did not think that he was anywhere near the central islands yet; one night’s travel by current alone would not have taken him so far, and it was entirely possible that he had been cast up on the shore long before daybreak. That left either an outer island, or a channel island, one that bordered the current. There was no way to tell from the beach, so he decided to take a tour of the island and see if he could find any evidence of civilization. It was shady under the palms at the edge of the sand, so he trudged along in their shadow, keeping out of the sun as much as possible. At the end of an hour he came to a small stream that flowed out to the sea, and kneeling by its shore, he drank greedily.
He followed the stream inwards for a little while, and came upon an abandoned hut. Peering inside the darkened doorway, he saw a few ropes, a rough hammock, and the general detritus of a fisherman’s lifestyle. Some of the local fishermen kept cabins like these on small uninhabited islands to use when the fishing in their own locale got poor or overcrowded. Behind the hut, he found a small canoe leaning against a tree, and quickly carried it down to the sand.
He scanned the sky for a moment. It was too early to set out; he had nothing to carry water in, and if he set out now, he might need a good deal of it before he found a town. Vedek decided to wait by the stream until nightfall, and sert out then. He settled down with his back to a palm and tried to sleep.

“Mede, wake up” Tsuda shook her friend’s shoulder gently, trying not to dislodge her from her perch on the floating branch. Mede stirred, then slowly raised her head to look around.
“Where are we?”
“I have no idea, but we need to get in to an island soon. It’s getting hot out here, and we need water.” Tsuda gently pushed the branch towards the shadowy form of an island in the distance. Mede slipped off the branch, relishing the cool ocean water on her skin that had been exposed to the sun, and began kicking to propel the branch forward.
A few hours later, the two young women dragged the branch ashore, and looked around at their surroundings. Mede spotted a paved path that ran from the sand back into the trees; their feet burned as they walked across the sand, and the stones of the path were not much cooler, but soon they were under the shade of the trees, and walking became much more comfortable.
Tsuda heard a high-pitched burst of laughter, and a young girl ran into the path in front of them, chased by a boy of approximately the same age. Upon seeing them, the children halted, and stared up at them shyly. Tsuda realized suddenly how odd they must look; two almost grown women, walking up a street in their under clothes; one with a shock of white hair, the other with pale skin burned red by the sun. She laughed, running a hand through her matted hair, and bowed slightly to the children. The boy smiled then, and bowed dramatically. This sent the little girl into giggles again, and in a moment all four were laughing.
“Kaeli? Demek? Are you hiding over here?” The clear sound of a young man’s voice cut across the laughter, and the four fell silent again. A moment later, the young man emerged from the same spot where the children had appeared before. He stopped in his tracks at the sight of the disheleved pair.
“Are you two hurt? How did you get here?” The children ran up to the man, and clung to his knees, looking out at Mede and Tsuda again. Tsuda smiled, blushing furiously, and said, “I’m afraid we were washed out into the current. We kept afloat by hanging onto a branch that was swept out with us, and we have just now landed here. Which island are we on? I know it is not Selni, nor Mei.”

The young man smiled, and shook his head. “No, this is Yeni. We are a small island, but there is one village, and we are happy here. Please, come with me. My wife will be happy to help you find more suitable attire, and she will enjoy the challenge of cooking for someone other than myself and the children here.” The two children giggled again, and the five of them moved quickly down the walkway and into the small village.

“So you just washed up here?” The young woman was not very much older than either Tsuda or Mede, but she seemed to fussing over them as if they were her own young ones. “how did you manage to get swept away?”
Tsuda and Mede exchanged a quick glance. Tsuda knew that many of the Astaldi would gladly be rid of the Temaltans if they could, but would be unwilling to stir up trouble or invite it in. However, some were truly happy to stand up to the monks. Which category did this ha[ppy young couple fall into?
Just then, Relni, the young man, stepped back into the room. “There is an interesting story spreading around the village this morning, Kagi. They say that the monks decided to take revenge for the killing of their brother in the central islands, and that they destroyed an ambassador’s house on Leti last night. Apparently, two of those most sought by the priest dived into the ocean, and escaped them. We have been warned to watch for them, if they appear, and to alert the Temaltans.”
Tsuda’s blood ran cold at Relni’s report, but the young wife smiled, and said to Mede, “Fancy that! Well, it’s a shame that we have not seen any such visitors here. We would, of course, be happy to do our civic duty and report such strangers to them, but what we have not seen, we cannot report!” She leaned in close between the women, and whispered, “Have no fear while you are on our island. We have no love for the foreign monks here; we have some among us who still remember the old ways before their cold hand descended upon us, and we will tell them nothing about your presence here. Stay with us for as long as you need.”

As Vedek walked up the beach, a novice ran towards him. "Master Vedek! We thought you were lost! Someone saw you running towards the ocean, and when you didn't return, we thought--"

"Yes, I'm sure I know what you thought. but it takes more than a little saltwater to get rid of me. Now please, go give the captain of that ship some gold for the trouble he took to bring me back here." The monk continued walking towards the cluster of buildings on the hill, leaving the novice staring behind him. Seeing another monk in the distance, he hailed him and ran to meet him at th top fo the hill.

"Greetings, Maikul. Can you tell me what has happened since our visit to the ambassador's gardens? I'm afraid I did not see the conclusion of that one."

Mailuk shook his head, and looked out over the ocean. "Well, we won that little skirmish, if that's what you mean. The statues were all destroyed, and we have regained control of Mei. But the ambassador is now holed up in his house with his daughter, armed guards surrounding the house, and he claims that as soon as he can get a message through the Ersan fleet will be on its way to destroy us. We can't kill him, or the Ersans really will hear about it. We can't keep him alive in his house, because he will eventually get a message out. And we can't invade the house and take him captive because again, the Ersans would hear about it, and consider it an act of war. We have started sending out parties to the neighboring islands, and are slowly getting them back under control, but it's going to be a long process. Quite frankly, we need more men."

Vedek nodded, scowling. "We can't have the Ersan fleet come out here, not now. We don't have the resources to fight on two fronts, and getting the Astaldi under control is going to take everything we have. Even then, we're going to need to let the homelands know that we need more warriors. We have to send one ship back to tell them. who would you recommend sending back with the message?"

The other monk thought for a moment, and responded, "I think we can send Vederen; he's reliable and calm, but he is much more suited to message carrying than strategy. We can send some of the novices back to crew the ship."

"Excellent. How soon could he set out?"

"Well, if he has only a skeleton crew, and heads straight back to Temalta, he won't need more than a few weeks' supplies. I think we can get most of those from the gardens here, so I should think he could set out within the week."

"Good, that sounds reasonable. Will you see to it that this is done?" Mailuk assured Vedek that he would, and the green-eyed monk moved on towards the other buildings. He saw crowds of novices hurrying to and fro on various errands, and noted with pleasure the strength and toughness of their bodies. They would be needed soon. He would burn every island of the Astaldi to the waterline if he had to, but he would find her.

90000

2007-11-20T09:38:00.001-08:00

90000 words. I swear I'm going to update the blog soon. Hopefully tonight.

85000!

2007-11-19T09:35:00.000-08:00

Just hit 85000 last night! That's three lives down, two to go. By my calculations, the story should end around 140-145,000 words, which I should hit on the 30th, if I keep up my 5K a day. How cool is that?

33ish

2007-11-15T22:02:00.002-08:00

“Can we wind this vine up and around the statue,” Tsuda asked a gardener, twisting the woody tendril to demonstrate the effect she was after. She took another small lamp from a pile that sat on a nearby patch of grass, and hung it from the outstretched fingers of one statue. It was morning, but the guests would be arriving around sundown, and the party would continue late into the night. ]
Tsuda was so nervous that he hands trembled while she adjusted the wick on the lamp. “There, that one should be ready, now where is the next one?” She turned to pick up another lamp, but before she could do so, she found one of the small lights pressed into her hand. She looked up to see Mede smiling there, with her finacee Jukad standing next to her. “We came to see if you need any help! Is there anything we can do?”
The first girl nodded, and gestured toward the pile of lamps. “These need to go up before tonight. Anywhere that will cast lighnt and look nice will be fine. “ She ran her hands through her hair, and looked around, trying to decide what needed to be done next. Mede handed the lamp to Jukad, and said in a low voice to Tsuda, “It’s alright, stop worrying. The monks aren’t due to stop back by here for another month at the very earliest, and they have not been very prompt about keeping their rounds ever since their numbers split. I have even heard rumors that they are being driven out of some of the central islands, and it may be that we will see them overthrown in the end. The only worry you will have tonight is how to find the time to speak to everyone who wants to praise your work.” She smiled, ginger hair falling into her face, and turned back to the lamps.
The sun was just touching the tops of the trees when the guests began arriving at the Ambassador's residence. It was one of the largest buildings on the island; the ambassador had built it outside of Leti, saying that he didn't care to be surrounded by the hubbub of the larger city all the time. He had a large house in the city, but spent as much time in the house in Leti as possible. Many times, the children of the village had watched as the torches were lit in the walk that led to the ornate garden, and seen guests from the city entering in rich fabrics and glittering jewels. But this evening even the children were invited, and the gates of the garden were open for all to enter.
The rosy red light of the sunset turned the sandstone walls to a glowing orange, and a servant ran up the path, lighting the torches that hung in metal posts along the way. Tsuda stood at the gate, watching the crowds stream in. She smiled, but felt a tight knot of fear in the pit of her stomach. Even though the small sculptures had been successful, she had never shown most people her large figurative statues.
As she turned back towards the garden, she saw Kaedti walking towards her, resplendent in her blue robes. She wore the typical skirt of the Astaldi, but over the strip of cloth wrapped around her torso, she had draped a length of fabric. It was richly beaded, and swathed her shoulders with blue before sweeping up and wrapping around her hair. Tsuda thought she looked less like a child than she had ever seen her; Kaedti was in her element, and definately looked the part of the hostess as she greeted the guests. When she reached Tsuda, she pulled her aside, and whispered, "Doesn't everything look wonderful? My father wanted everything to be perfect, and everyone seems so excited to be here! Come on into the garden! Dont' you want to see how everyone reacts?"
"I'm not sure," Tsuda whispered back. "What if they hate them? What if they think I'm mocking them? What if--"
"Oh, dont' be silly. We kept your request, only a few people know for sure where the statues came from. But I'm sure everyone knows anyway, since you are the onyl sculptor for miles around. And moving them was a rather large and...well, visible...operation, even if they were kept covered." she smiled, and put a hand on Tsuda's arm. "Don't worry. We made sure all the preperations were made when the monks were elsewhere. As nearly as we can tell, they know nothing of it. Relax. come in, and see."
Tsuda and Kaedti walked through the grassy lawn, and come upon the garden proper. There were eleven large statues dotted around the garden grounds--Tsuda had planned to add a twelfth, but had run out of time. The last light of sunset was fading, and the stars were coming out in the dark sky above the garden. The light from the torches cast broad shining circles on the grass, and each flower seemed edged in gold.
Her eyes flickered over the guests present, and slowly the delight on their faces seemed to sink in. She saw a couple stadning before one of the larger statues. It was a figure craved from a large piece of driftwood that she had found on the beach, and it had taken her the better part of a day to lug the wood up to her own garden. After months of careful scraping and sanding, it had taken the form of a young man; he stood calmly, staring outward with open eyes, and in his hand he clutched an open seashell. A river poured out of the shell and made a pool at his feet. The figure was simple and stylized, standing calmly like a column, but something in it gave it a hint of life, and the overall effect was stunning. The man and his wife seemed captivated by the image, and Tsuda’s heart rose. She moved on through the garden, and found a large vine of winecups, just beginning to turn red. As she knelt to smell the small flowers, she saw the ambassador walking up to a man in a rich red robe. She recognized him as one of the members of the tribunal, and crouched lower near the bush. Tsuda berated herself for eavesdropping but couldn’t bring herself to leave.
“So, Mei Kel, what do you think of my country gardens? I was so pleased when I heard that you would be able to attend.” The ambassador’s voice was loud and booming, somehow seeming to match his red hair and beard.
The other man took a moment before responding. He stood in sharp contrast to the ambassador: Kel was trim and elegant in his build, and he was usually silent, preferring thought to speech. His skin was so dark that at times it seemed that he was wrapped in shadow, even when he stood in the light. Now in the torchlit garden, Tsuda could see the flames reflecting off his skin.
“I am very impressed, lord Maedik. The lighting is excellent, your vines and flowers are incomparable, but I am very curious as to where you procured the statues. My people do not believe in making images of soulish things, you see, or at least, have not done so in a very long time. Since the first contact with the Temaltans, I believe, or soon after. Yet most of these appear to have been carved from the local sandstone, and a few made from the driftwood that washes up on our beaches so frequently. Tell me, where did you find them?”
Maedik chuckled, and shook his head. “No, I cannot reveal my sources, or soon everyone would have statues like them, and mine would no longer be unique! But you are correct, the artist is a native to this island, and has asked not to have his name revealed; after all, the Temaltans might not approve. But I think we are safe from their prying eyes here, and you still have not told me what you think.”
Tsuda held her breath, waiting to hear what Kel would say. He kept his usual silence for a few moments, then she heard him laugh under his breath. “Yes, Maedik, they are stunning. In my youth, I traveled quite a lot over the face of Ersada, and saw many statues in other lands. These have a wonderful simplicity, and a striking sense of presence. One almost feels that they are acolytes standing in some temple. As if the great dome of the sky was the dome of their temple.”
Maedik and Kel began to walk around to examine the statues, and their conversation was soon lost to Tsuda, but the compliment to her work continued to ring in her ears.
The sun was completely set now, and the sky overhead was dark save for the stars. At the horizon, a faint silver gleam could be seen where Lotha would soon rise. She heard the sound of running feet behind her, and before she could turn, she found herself caught around the shoulders by Mede.
“Tsuda, it’s beautiful! I can’t believe how wonderful everything looks! The lights are wonderful, and the statues look like they were made to go here! I even saw Mei Kel looking at them!”
“I know, “ Tsuda whispered, taking her friend’s arm, “But I still feel uneasy about it. Something just doesn’t feel quite right. I don’t know what it is.”
“I know how nervous you were about this, but the night will be over soon enough and then you’ll wish that you had spent more time enjoying it. Please, Tsuda, just…” Her voice faded away as Jukad caught up to them and whispered something in Mede’s ear.
She darted her eyes to the gates of the garden, and saw a long line of black-robed men making their way towards the celebration. The music of the flutes died away as they entered, and conversation ceased. For a moment, silence fell upon the scene under the stars.
“Why the sudden silence?” called out Vedek, green eyes shining in the light from the torches. “After all, we have come here to be one with your people, should we not celebrate together? Unless of course, you are celebrating the death of our people in the central islands? Or perhaps you are rejoicing because of the riots in the channel islands which have left many of our company homeless?”
Maedik stepped forward calmly, facing Vedek without any sign of fear on his broad face. “We do not rejoice in any such things. No-one here is happy for the death of anyone else, and you know that we have never had any quarrel with you.”
“You are well-paid not to, Lord Maedik.. You continually forget, you are not Astaldi. The Astaldak lands have always been eager to see us go from here, despite all that we have done for them.” The other monks began to spread out across the green lawn, and the guests retreated. Only Maedik held his ground. Tsuda and Mede were somewhat hidden by one of the staatues, but both knew that Vedek would soon find them. Mede looked at Tsuda, and wondered if one of them would leave this life that night. She whispered a quick prayer for both of them, and glanced over at the disc of Lotha that was beginning to peek over the tops of the trees: the moon’s cold blue light seemed to cast the tableau in an unreal light.
“We have given you peace, security, freedom to live and trade. We have brought you the truth sought out by millennia of our philosophy, and you repay us by celebrating the deaths of our monks, by creating a garden of blasphemous images that mock the struggle of all spirit to free itself from earth? And how did you think we would respond? Did you really think that we would simply turn away and run?” Vedek waved an arm; with a crash, one of the statues toppled to the ground, pulled down by two of the monks. It lay in three pieces at the foot of the pedestal; the monks threw the pieces against the ground until nothing was left but rubble.
Tsuda let out a small cry as the statue hit the ground, and turned away. She heard the dull crunch as the sandstone crumbled, and the soft thumps as each piece landed in the soft grass.
Vedek moved to the wooden statue of the young man, and drawing his sword, slashed it viciously across the face, leaving the blade stuck in the weathered wood. Mede heard the swish and thwack of the blade cutting into th wood and winced, remembering another sword, in a sunlit courtyard and blood falling onto dry stones.
In a moment, the other statues were under attack, until one of the monks was knocked to his feet by a flash of blue. Kaedti stood over the stunned man, eyes flashing. “Leave them alone, you sektha!”
Maedik shouted out, “No! Kaedti,stay back!” but the monk was on his feet, eyes flashing. As Vedek raised his voice to warn him to hold his temper, the man struck Kaedti across the face with the face of his fist, knocking her to the ground. Maedik roared in rage, and ran across the lawn to defend his daughter, and in a moment, the garden was a whirling mass of bodies; the unarmed Astaldi trying to bring the monks down with sheer force of numbers, and the monks lashing out with sword and fist, feet flying through the air to land ferocious kicks on their opponents.
As Vedek swung in a wide circle with his sword, he looked up, scanning the crowd for any sight of the Suktisian girl. At first he could not see her, but in a lull in the battle, he saw a flash of white hair as she darted across the garden to kneel beside the ambassador’s daughter. “Get her!” he shouted, gesturing wildly, and kicking away a woman who had latched onto his shoulder. “Get the one with white hair, and her friend! They are the ones who are the cause of all of this!”
He broke free from the struggle around him, and ran across the garden, but was too late. Judak had slipped away when the monks first came, and discovered a place where the wall of the garden might be climbed, and had gone back to find Mede.
“Please, Mede, go; they may find this part of the wall at any moment, and then you will never get out. I will find you again when this is all over, but please go now.”
Mede shook her head, and pulled away. “No, I can’t go without Tsuda. Help me find her, and then I swear to you that I will go.”
It took them a few moments to catch Tsuda’s eye; her vision was dim, blurred by the tears, but she finally saw them beckoning to her. She pulled Kaedti to safety under one of the large bushes, and prayed that she wouldn’t be seen, then ran across the lawn to where Judak and Mede waited. In a moment, they were winding through the undergrowth at the neglected corners of the garden where the vegetables were grown. Once or twice Tsuda caught her foot on a dried vine, but she kept going, following Mede and Judak. When they arrived at the wall, Judak helped Tsuda over first, then circled his arms around Mede’s waist. “Please, go, I will find you when this is over. Right now, I want to know that you are safe, and well away from here.”
Mede touched his cheek gently, and smiled. “I promise to stay safe. I will take Tsuda, and hide on one of the central islands, if we can get there. Find me there.” And then in a swish of fabric, she was over the wall, and running through the silent streets, close behind Tsuda.
Vedek yelled in frustration as he saw them disappear into the dark growth of the garden, and tried to make his way towards them, but the press of bodies held him back. When he finally reached the wall, Tsuda and Mede were gone.
He eyed the dust of the streets, and noticed that a small cloud of dust was settling in an alley that led towards the sea. He turned down the alley, and saw a set of hurried footprints in the sand ahead. He followed their trail, moving as fast as he dared, not wanting to lose the trail in eagerness. As he emerged from the alley to the cliffs above the sea, he saw two forms dash across the sand, carrying a large tree branch between them. He slid down the cliff, and began to run after them as fast as his booted feet could carry him.
“Hurry!” Mede yelled, as they tossed the log into the waves, and swam after it. “Push it out further; we have to get beyond the pull of the waves, or he’ll be able to follow us. Our only hope is to drift farther out than he can swim, and hope that we catch a current before the other monks can find us in their ship.”
Tsuda nodded, and coughed as the sea water flooded her mouth. The two women pushed the log in front of them, kicking as hard as the could to make headway against the waves. Vedek paused on the shore long enough to strip off his tunic and boots, knowing that they would only slow him down. He ran into the surf and plunged into the waves, striking out with a strong swimmer’s stroke.
Looking behind her, Mede could see the white foam splash up as Vedek’s arms cut through the waves. The foam shone almost pure white in the moonlight, and she increased her kicks. “Keep kicking, Tsuda, he may yet catch up.”
Vedek’s arms were burning with pain, but he shook it off and forced himself forward through the surf. He could see the log just ahead of him, and the feet of the nearest girl were only a few yards out of reach.
“Keep kicking! Keep it moving! Only a little further, and we’ll hit the current!” Tsuda shouted, glancing ahead. The edge of the current was a few yards ahead, curving through the sea like a pathway on the waters.
The monk’s lungs ached for more air than he could give them; he lunged forward, fingers brushing the heel of one of the girls. He was so close that he could hear her scream at the touch of his cold fingers.
Mede shoved the log further ahead and swam to catch up to it, adrenaline pulsing through her as she drew her feet out of his reach.
Vedek thrust forward through the water once more, and again felt his fingers close around a thin heell; but before he could bring his other hand around to grab the entire foot, he felt the heel jerked out of his hand. He looked up, flinging his sopping hair out of his face; as the golden light of Lede flooded over the face of the waters, the log moved into the current, the two women still clinging tightly to its branches. He could see them pick up speed, and knew that he would never catch them now.
He could feel his legs like lead, barely able to move anymore. Vedek rolled onto his back, and concentrated on breathing. He had no energy for anything more, and his lungs burned. The twin moons shone down on the three in the water as the waves carried them further apart.

32ish

2007-11-15T22:02:00.001-08:00

There was much dissension amongst the priests: some thought it more valuable to divide themselves from any physical pleasure, and others thought it best to participate fully in all, believing that the spirit and body could never influence each other. The disagreement finally broke out into war, with each faction insisting that all the others follow their own disciplines. In the end, the discipline and hard training of the traditionalists won out. Those who would not give up their new-found hedonism were summarily put to the sword. This necessitated a slight withdrawal of the monks from direct supervision of the Astaldi peoples, and a small flourishing of culture began among them. New art forms were developed, and new ways of thinking began to be shown.

------------------------------------from the journals of Gerja, Ersan explorer and chronicler.
“When are you coming to supervise the final arrangements for the party, Tsuda?” Kaedti asked, turning towards the woman beside her. Tsuda wore the silver armband that marked her as a woman presented in the temple, but not yet spoken for in marriage. Her white-gold hair was pinned up and elaborately tied with strips of bright red cloth. Her skirt was of bright yellow with large purple flowers painted on it, which contrasted strikingly with her skin.
“I plan to come by tomorrow night. I want to make sure that everything is just right. I believe that your men came by last night and got the last of the statues moved, and you’ve had your gardeners working on the plants for weeks. There’s not much left for me to do.” Tsuda smiled at the young woman next to her. Kaedti had just been presented at the temple two weeks ago, and she had grown into a lovely young woman. Her muted-gold hair had been piled up in a complicated twist on top fo her head, and she wore her usual bright blue skirt and shirt. Her face looked more like the face of a grown woman, but her eyes had maintained their wide innocence.
“I still can’t thank you enough for this. It’s a risky move for your father to show his support of my statues.”
Kaedti smiled slowly. “No, he’s happy to. The Ersans have a strong native art, and the cities back home are filled with statues. He missed it, and I confess that I do, too. Perhaps this will be a new beginning for art among the Astaldi.”
Tsuda nodded pensively. “It could be, but I confess that I have my doubts. You don’t know how deeply ingrained the antipathy towards this sort of thing is ingrained in our culture. Once, when I was a child, I had drawn a very crude face on my favorite doll, so that I could see her smile abck at me. A monk saw what I had done, and he threw my doll into the fire. My father gave me a long lecture about blasphemy that night.” She grimaced slightly at the memory. “Oh well, it’s all one now. I have done what I have done, and created what was in me to create. Things became so much easier when the monks began fighting amongst themselves and began to leave us alone.”
The younger woman agreed, and turned to go. “I must run back to the court and take care of some more preparations. Please, come whenever you like. The party will be soon, and there’s still so much to be done!” Tsuda watched her go, then turned her path towards Mede’s house.
As she walked, she though back on the events of the past few months. Her small sculptures had become rather popular round the village. One day, she had been working on a large statue in her garden when Kaedti had stopped by to visit. When the younger girl saw the work, she was so impressed that she otld her father, knowing is great love of statuary. A few days later, he came in person to see the works. Her parents had not approved of her recent undertakings, btu finally accepted Tsuda’s pursuits as tolerable when the ambassador came. He had examined some of the smaller works, and insisted upon seeing all the large works she had created.
“It would seem to me,” he had stated, upon completeing his tour of her work, “that you are quickly running out of room.”
“I suppose so,” she had responded. She had covered her corner of the garden with the figures, and her parents staunchly refused to allow her to move any of them to the garden proper. She had been wondering for quite some time as to what she would do to make more room.
“Well, then, it appears that we have the opposite problems,” he continued. “You have a great many statues, and not nearly enough room to hold them all; I on the other hand, have a perfectly monstrous garden, and no statues to put in it. Perhaps I could purchase your statues and keep them in my garden for you?”
Tsuda had gasped out some sort of incredulous response, and the ambassador smiled. “You have been very kind to my daughter, and it gives me great pleasure to be able to give a little back. Besides, as I’m sure my Kaedti has mentioned to you, I take great pleasure in the arts, and have missed the statues of my homeland very much. When these are fully established in my gardens, we will give a party so that everyone in Leti may see these great works.” In the months since then, things had moved so quickly that Tsuda still had difficulty believing that they were happening at all.
When she arrived at Mede’s house, she rapped her knuckles lightly on the doorway and walked in; Mede’s father had died about three months before, having come down with a bad cold in the damp halls of the temple libraries. Mede kept house by herself now, though a young man from the village had recently asked for her hand in marriage.
“Hello, Mede? Are you in here?” Tsuda called, and a muffled voice answered from the back of the house. Tsuda moved toward the voice, and found Mede rummaging through a pile of fabrics. “Sorry, I was just going through these skirts. I don’t think I really need them all, do you? Oh dear, if you’re here than that means it’s almost time for the prayers, isn’t it? Alright, give me a moment to get ready, and I’ll meet you in the garden.”
Tsuda strolled peacefully through the garden. She had almost as many memories of Mede’s garden as she did of her own. She’d experienced the greatest pain of her life here, as well as many happy moments of learning with Mede. More recently, they had taken to saying the prahyers of the Selidian rituals here.
In a few moments, Mede came hurrying out, blinking in the noon sunlight. “Alright, I’m ready. Just let me catch my breath.” She took a few deep breaths, then lifted her arms towards the sun, and began to chant in a clear voice.

Tsuda joined in, voice rising in the now-familiar rituals of the god Suk. She thought for a fleeting moment how strange these words had seemed four years ago, when she first learned them, and how natural it seemed now to sing them towards the sun.
_________________________________________________________________
Across the island, the Temaltan monks finished loading a ship full od weapons and armor under the watchful eye of Vedek and Murul, another monk. Vedek had risen quickly in the ranks when the war broke out, since his information about what the novices were being taught had proven invaluable to the masters. He was now the leader of a small troop of monks; rumors had ariusen of apostasy in Leti, and he was determined to find it.

“When do we set sail, Murul?” he asked the man standing next to him.

Murul eyed the stack of provisions left to load, and thought for a moment before replying. “I believe we can set sail with the first wind tomorrow. That will give us the rest of the day today to get these materials loaded, provision the men, and load the ship. Will that be enough time for you?”

Vedek nodded, not taking his eyes from the ship. “I just want to make sure that we get there in three days or less. I have heard rumors of an event at the Ersan ambassador’s house, and I would like to be present for it myself. I believe that it may require a strong hand to deal with it, so I am onlyh taking the best of my men.”

The boatmaster nodded absently, then made his apologies, and walked down tok the docks to check on another ship that would be sailing soon. Vedek continued watching as the provisions were loaded onto the ship, and smiled inwardly. Soon.
“Vedek, here are the reports you asked for.” The black-ahired man looked up to meet a runner coming swiftly across the hill.
“The reports from the central islands? Good. Let me see these.” He took the proferred scrolls, and opened one, scanning it rapidly. “Is this an eye-witness account or did the author just hear about it?”
The young runner responded wearily, “We got first-hand accounts when we could, but a feew are hear-say. That one, I believe is a first-hand record.”
Vedek scanned it hurriedly, then opened the other records and perused their contents. A slow smile spread across his face. “Well, well, well…riots in the middle islands…and a monk killed in the central islands. I think the Astaldi have been left to their own devices long enough. It’s time we took a firmer hand, don’t you think?”
The runner nodded, pushing his damp hair off hiss forehead. “My group had to leave one of the islands that we supervised. Things became too unstable for us to stay, but it grated on me. I want nothing more than to make sure that these people remember their place.”
Vedek nodded, and turned back to the provisioning. “You will have your wish soon enough, I promise you.”

31ish

2007-11-15T22:01:00.001-08:00

Vedek spat blood onto the rock, and pushed himself up. The blow to the head was still ringing through his skull, and he shook his head to clear it. He rolled onto his back just in time to dodge the end of the staff that came crshing down on the stone where his head had been. He leapt to his feet and whirled around, delivering a solid blow to the back of his opponent. The breath was driven from the other boy’s lungs with a gasp, and a second blow to the back of his knees brought him to the ground in his turn. Vedek struck him a quick light rap to the skull, and his opponent lay unconscious in the dust.
“Alright, that’s enough. I think you’ve adequately proved your skills, Vedek. Go wash up.” Herl Odom’s voice cut through the dust that floated in the air, and Vedek turned to face the fighting master. “I can do more. Send me another opponent.”
“No, boy, that’s enough. Look at you, you’re letting your rage out. You beat Gonel because you are more skilled, but had you been equally matched, he would have defeated you easily. Keep yourself cold. You simply care too much. Let it be.” Herk turned to the other sparring novices, and called a halt to their exercises. “Enough for today! You’ll be late for your lunch if you don’t hurry and get cleaned up. Will someone make sure that Gonel sees a medic when he wakes up? Good.”
Vedek was halfway down the hill, but Herk caught up to him easily. “Hold up, boy, I think we need to talk. You’re going to get yourself killed before you take your first vows.”
The black haired boy stood seething quietly, and the novice master lowered his voice. “I know that you think this physical realm is deplorable, and that you wish to be free of it, but this is not the way. You give it power over you by caring so much about how much power you can have, how many of your fellow novices you can send to the medics. I told you earlier; you care too much. Let it go.”
“Like you?” The novice spat. “You’re out of breath in a ten minutes’ march, you’d never survive a battle. You go over to the women’s quarters as often as your can, and goodness knows how many of the brats running around are yours. You revel in this filth like a hog in a sty!”
Herk roared with laughter, as he grabbed the collar of Vedek’s tunic. “Revel in it? Why not? This is not me, this body is not my soul. Nothing of this physical realm can leave with my soul when it goes. You care far more about the food, the women, and the children than I! I do not even know if I have used the same woman twice! The dersires are part of this world, and they remain there. And you, you who care so much about your body, and where others’ bodies are, claim to be disconnected?”
The novice ripped himself away, and continued back down to the beach; his heart burned now with a secret joy. This was it. The records available to the Historians had mentioned apostasy among the priests at this time, due to increased interaction with the Astaldi, and here was the novice master admitting it! This could be the foothold he needed. The cleansing of the order was perhaps a year away, and he would make sure that he allied himself with the winning side. He cursed again the lack of reliable records from this period; he waded into the surf, and began splashing the salt water on his body to wash away the dust and blood.

Vedek was not in the habit of listening to the conversation of the other novices; he had, however, noticed that such conversation seemed to be more common in this age than in many of the others he had visited. But this morning, he let his own thoughts fall silent for a few moments and listened. The chatter in the hall felt deafening, thought it did not even compare to the noise in the market place in Leti. The only conversation he could hear clearly came form the two novices seated next to him.
“Did you see the new boatload of women brought over from Ersa? They’re almost all redheads.”
“Bestre took his final vows yesterday. He stayed awake for five days in the master’s hall before they finally gave him his rank. They were unsure about his commitment and wanted to be sure that he was ready.”
“I bet you ten setres that I could go six days.”
“you wouldn’t last more than three.”
“Did you hear what Herk said yesterday?” Vedek’s ears rpicked up at this. “I was standing on one of the cliffs, you know, where you stand with your back to the sea, and hang on with just your toes? I had been standing that way for about an hour or so when he came walking by. He stood there for a minute, just watching in that way that he does, where you’re not sure if he’s luahging at you or not, then he just said, ‘You care an awful lot about your body for someone whos going to be leaving it in a few decades.’ Then he just walked away.”
“I’ve heard him say things like that a hundred times when he’s trying to get us to loosen up and really fight. It’s just talk.”
The other young man shook his head and quickly swallowed a spoonful of broth. “No, I don’t think so. I spent a lot of time thinking about it yesterday. You know how it is, you crave something—say a piece of meat, or one of the new redheads in the women’s quarters—so badly that it takes up your mind, and almost brings you to your knees. We’ve always been told that the only way to rid ourselves of those desires is to separate ourselves form them. But if you had had that roasted piece of meat, say, or been with the girl, the desire would be satiated, and you would be calm and no longer troubled by it.”
The first young man shook her head slightly, ripping off a chunk of hard bread with his teeth and chewing loudly. “No, I don’t think so. You’re going to end up keeping your spirit earth-bound, and then where will you be?”
“What does the body have to do with the spirit? It’s not like I’m taking this thing with me.” The two young men finished their meals, and got up from the table, still debating the point spiritedly. Vedek did not attempt to follow them; he had heard enough. Herk’s influence was spreading throughout the novices, and beginning to corrupt them. He smiled inwardly as he pushed his bowl aside, and began making his plans. The reckoning would come soon, and he must be in a position to gain power, or he would find it difficult to capture the Suktisian girl. With every life her consciousness became more valuable; every experience increased its worth. It was worth taking time to capture.

30ish

2007-11-15T22:00:00.002-08:00

Tsuda lined the painted figures up carefully on the stone bench. Her painting had improved considerably, and the little statues gleamed brightly in the aafternoon sun.
“Alright, Mede, you can come over now.” Tsuda beckoned her friend who had been standing in the doorway of her house. She came slowly through the garden, and knelt down in front of the bench.

“Tsuda, these are beautiful…” Mede ran a finger along the wing of a clay bird, straining upwards as if to fly away from her touch. Next to it stood a bit of driftwood, its natural twisting shape carved into the form of a young man, reaching out to touch a flame that hung always at the tip of his fingers. Another clay figure was that of a flower, delicately opening itse brightly colored petals. Several others lined the bench, and Mede’s eyes roved over them in pure delight. She had not seen sculptures since she was a child in the Selides islands, and she had not realized that she had missed such things until these stood before her, miniature but lovely.
“I want to show these to a few people I know…I think I can trust them. It’s mostly just the monks who will not stand for them; in fact, I heard once that the Astaldi used to be great artists and sculptors, but that all ended when we first warred with the Temaltans a few thousand years ago.:” Tsuda sighed. “We were never very good at waging wars, and the Temaltans love nothing better, so…I suppose it was inevitable.”

Mede nodded slowly. “Perhaps you’d best start with things like that flower, and maybe the bird. You know, natural things that have no religious significance. Maybe they would be less wary of those. I know! You can go into the market, and leave one of these at the well, and see what the response is. There would be little risk in that, I think, and it would let you see how people react. If they immediately destroy it, well, then at least you know. But if it’s admired, or taken home, then you’ll know that people like it.”

“It’s an idea, at least,” Tsuda said, standing up and brushing off her skirt. “Are you ready? You said you wanted to try going back together today.”

“Yes, I think it’s time we tried it. My father says that it’s often more effective than when one person goes. The process is the same, we just try to stay aware of each other while remembering.”

“that’s not exactly what I’d call easy, but then, you’ve been doing this a lot longer than I have.” Tsuda carefully cleared the figurines off the bench, and sat down; Mede joined her, and the two girls linked hands. The two young women sat on the ground facing each other, and gently clasped hands. As her eyes closed Tsuda could feel herself moving backwards into memory faster than she had ever done. She swiftly lost awareness of everything external, and she found herself standing in a wind-blown plaza.

The sun burned brightly in a pale blue sky, and a row of black-robed men stood across the square. She saw a quick flash of light as they raised their knives and blood hissed onto the sand. Large wolf-like creatures rose from the stones where the blood fell, and stood beside the monks.

The ginger-haired woman stood before them, tall and unafraid; her proud words rang out across the sand. The monk spoke again, and accusations of witchcraft fell like stones. Across the plaza, Tsuda saw another monk enter, with a small white-haired child in his grasp. She felt herself cry out, and lunged forward; the sand grated under her feet as she ran towards the child. Suddenly she was jerked backwards, and almost fell, finding herself in the grip of two of the monks. Their faces were so close that she could see the pupils of their bright green eyes, and she struggled to break free. Their grip was firm, though, and she could not break loose.

More words passed between the men seated near the middle of the courtyard and the monks, but Tsuda did not hear them. Her eyes were fixed on the white-haired child; then, the accusing monk stepped forward, and the young woman was made to kneel. "No!" she tried to scream, but almost gagged as a thick leather glove was forced between her teeth, muffling the sound. The clear notes of a song drifted across the plaza, and the sword fell swiftly. As the world went black she saw wisps of ginger hair drifting across the stones with the sand.

Mede could feel the hot stones of the pavement beneath her feet.

The sun shone brightly, and her hair lay hot and heavy on the back of her neck. Her legs ached, but she knew that she must not fall, must show no weakness. As she stood silently, she saw a row of Temaltan monks, with rajiks newly sprung from the blood of their masters standing in attendance. She felt no fear of the monks; now that they knew who and what she was, there was nothing to be done.

She heard herself responding to their charges, knowing all the while the futility of it all. The monks would kill her for being a Selidian priestess, no matter what she was accused of. She heard the sentence pronounced, and knelt to receive the blow. As she felt the shadow of the monk fall across her back, she began to sing, a song she had learned in the temples. At the last moment, when she heard the whistle of the blade, she looked up, her eyes meeting the bright purple eyes of a young woman in the middle of the crowd. Then a sharp pain at the base of the neck, and darkness.

Blackness descended on both of the young woman, and they fell bakcwards into memory again. Colored lightning flickered across a rounded dome, and Tsuda felt power surging through her feet. She felt frozen,unable to move anything save her eyes. There was a wall of flames surrounded an altar; through the flames she saw the form of a girl, crying out in pain. Her blue eyes were wide and her blonde hair was beginning to burn. She reached a pale hand through the flames towards Tsuda, but Tsuda was still immobile.
A man with glowing eyes stepped forward into the light of the fire, and spoke with a voice that sounded like the roar of a waterfall. Across the fire, she saw a man with black hair and green eyes; he looked on with a calm glee, seeming to relish the sight.
The great dome cracked, and the floor split open; Tsuda felt as though the abyss ran through the center of the earth. A few of the priests fell into the gaping crevasse, and were lost to sight in moments. An instant later, the altar followed, dropping into the hole in the earth like a blazing demon. The lightning that had flickered across the dome fell in great bolts, consuming the priests, and Tsuda's foot slipped from th brone circle on the floor. The power ceased to surge through her, and she fell to the ground, unable to breathe. As her vision dimmed, she saw the green eyes blazing through the fog, and a shining sphere of silver light.

Mede opened her eyes to find Tsuda hunched over, shoulders racking with sobs. The Selidian quickly moved over to sit by her friend, and held her close. “Shh, shh, it’s alright.” She ached to tell the young woman that it didin’t matter, that the past was over and gone, but she knew that she could not. The past had happened, and it had forever left a mark on Tsuda’s soul. Tsuda alone could decide what to do with that mark.
“It was my fault, Mede. They would never have been able to do that ritual without a priestess, and I let it happen. I knew it was wrong, but I wanted more power, I wanted to help, I wanted to become a great servant of the gods. And it all fell apart. I….” She stopped suddenly, fell forward onto the grass, and was violently sick. Mede held her hair out of her face and held her up until it was over.
“Here, move over onto the grass on the other side of the path. I’m going to go get some cool water for you. You’ll feel better in a minute, just wait for me, I will be right back.” She sprinted away into the house, and returned a few moments later with a small pile of clean rags and a bowl. Stopping by the well, she quickly poured cold water into the bowl, and returned to Tsuda’s side. Tears continued to slide unabated down Tsuda’s dark cheeks, and Mede carefully wiped her face clean. She took another cloth and after wrining it out, placed it across Tsuda’s forehead.
“I hate him,” she whispered quietly, so softly that at first Mede did not hear.
“I hate him, and I don’t know what he wants with me.”
“Who? “ Mede rinsed out the dirty rag, and set it aside.
“The monk. He was there when they killed…” she winced, and turned her face away. “When they…we …caused the fall of Suktis. He was the one who killed you in the courtyard. He wants something from me, and I want nothing of him except that he die, preferably as painfully as possible.”
“Tsuda, how do you even know it’s the same monk? They all look so much alike, with that dark hair and green eyes.” She sat on the grass beside her friend, and tried to keep her calm. “It could be any of them.”
She shook her head. “No, I saw it in his eyes. The same eyes, they’re different from the other priests…almost like they go further back…like empty holes.” She shuddered, and was almost sick again. Mede took a small cup and helped her sip from it.
“You cannot hate him, Tsuda. It will be much worse for you if you do, and it will harm his soul too.”
“Good!” Tsuda spat. “I would give up my own soul to drag his down to hell!”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Of course I do! He has killed everyone I loved, my husband, my child, my friends, and even my homeland. And I let it happen. No more! I will destroy him, no matter the cost!” Tsuda’s eyes blazed purple, and she clenched her fists. “I will not rest until he is destroyed.”
“Tsuda! Listen to yourself! You cannot hate him so much, no matter what he has done. The hatred will destroy you. Listen, you remember when I told you about the souls that go up intot he sky as stars? Not every soul makes it. Some souls choose badly, and refuse to learn in their lives. They sink further and further into hatred and fear. We were not made to know such things, and too much of them tears us apart, from ourselves and from others. A soul that gives in to hatred and fear rips itself apart. It becomes nothing.”
Tsuda turned her face away from her friend. “I let the girl die. I let my daughter die, and I let you die. My soul is nothing already. I will destroy him and die in peace.” She burst into tears again, and Mede held her until the tears ceased, and Tsuda slept.

Tsuda woke in the hammock; it was nearing sunset. She sat up quickly. Mede was nowhere to be seen, but a gleam of lamplight shone in the doorway, and Tsuda sassumed she was inside. She slipped out of the garden, and into the quiet streets. As she walked restlessly, the sun set, and the cold orb of Lotha began to shine above the waves of the sea. She stood on the cliffs, looking down into the waves. In the icy light, the fervor of her hatred had cooled, and she felt herself torn. The hatred still clutched her heart, whispering sweet visions of revenge; but standing under the stars, her eyes were drawn upwards.
“Oh, gods, help me now,” she whispered. As Lede rose golden from the waves, following her Twin, Tsuda saw the warmer light fall upon the waves and tinge them with yellow. She quickly turned and found her way to the entrance of the narrow passage that led down to the shore. It seemed tighter than usual, and in the absence of sunlight, was pitch black. She felt tears slide down her cheeks again as she brushed against the walls of the miniature canyon, and gasped for breath. The walls seemed to close in around her, and she felt as though green eyes peered out at her from every crevice and nook. Her heart rose into her throat, and just as she was about to collapse with fear and exhaustion, she saw a gleam of golden-blue light on the cliff wall ahead of her. She wound through the final turn, and found herself standing on the beach. The tide had come in, and the sand lay shining and wet in front of her; each moon cast a shining path of light across the water and sand.
Tsuda’s heart seemed ready to take wing, and she laughed, laughed in relief, in joy, hiccupping as she blinked away the last of the tears. She stood for a moment in the light of the two moons, then picking up a small stone from the shore, turned to the sandstone cliffs, and began to carve.

When morning came, Mede came rushing down to the seaside—she had been unable to follow Tsuda’s trail the previous evening, but in the pre-dawn light, she quickly slid down one of the cliffs to reach the shore. She found Tsuda, hair disheveled and filled with sand, eyes bright and shining in the rosy light.

"I was so worried about you," Mede gasped. "I couldn't find you at your house, or..." her voice trailed off as she looked at the side of the cliff. Tsuda took one final scrape with the stone she was holding, and then let it fall from her fingers.
The first beams of the rising sun struck the side of the cliff, and it shone like a static flame. Emerging from the side of the cliff was the figure of a woman; her arms wrapped around the cliff on either side, trying desperately to break free of the stone. Her face was lifted to the sky, and her eyes were wide open. From her shoulders sprouted the faintest hint of wings, still lodged in the stone.
Tsuda bowed her head in exhaustion, and almost crumpled to the sand, but Mede caught her, and helped her regain her footing. Tsuda cast a glance over her shoulder at the rising sun, and the brilliance of the dawn made her blink. The two women turned silently into the light.
As the sun's disc lifted free of the waves, Tsuda began to sing.

"Bless this day, bless this land
Be with us and teach us as we walk
Help us to love, help us to give,
And bring us to the stars in the end."

The waves crashed, and the song was lost in their sound, except to the two standing on the shore.

29ish

2007-11-15T22:00:00.001-08:00

A black-garbed figure stood on the low cliffs that overlooked the beach by the large city. His black hair shone almost blue in the light of the moons, and his pale skin looked like the flesh of a drowned corpse. He wore a belt with a short scabbard, and carried a thick staff. He wore a plain black tunic over loose black pants, but did not yet wear the robes of a professed monk.
“Surely,” he whispered, “she cannot escape me this time. She is but a child and in an Astaldaki shell, no less.” He fingered the scar on the back of his head as he always did when tense; the wound from training had been his entryway into this particular shell.
A crunch on the sand behind him alerted the novice to an approaching presence, and he fell silent immediately.
“It’s long past curfew, Vedek. Why are you still out here?” The voice came from a large robed figure; he knew the rather rotund shape to belong to the assistant novice master, Herk Odom. Vedek despised him; no self-respecting priest would have so utterly failed to discipline his body. Herk visited the women’s island on Temalta more than any other priest, and would have been sent away llong ago, if not for his near legendary skill with the staff. As long as he could teach the arts of battle with such proficiency, he would stay.
When the novice did not answer, Herk did not hesitate to made his own interpretation. “Ah, well, as a novice, I myself spent many nights looking up at the stars, wondering what it was all about. Wondering if what the masters said about this world was true, and if I’d ever be able to free my soul from it.” He laughed, and slapped Vedek’s back; the novice gritted his teeth, and stood his ground.
“I dare say you’ll figure it out in time, boy. Now. Back to the dormitory with you; there’s plenty of time ahead to figure out the mysteries of the universe.” Vedek gladly turned and left the hill, but his mind continued churning, planning, waiting for the right moment to seize the girl.

Long before the sun peeked over the waves, the novices were up. They ran for two miles up the coastline and back, barefoot, before sitting down for their meager breakfast. Vedek ate only half of his loaf of bread, and after drinking the small bowl of broth allotted to him, walked into the city. The sun was only lifting his head above the trees, but the merchants were already setting up their stalls, not willing to waste the coolness of the early morning air. Vedek walked purposefully through the cobbled streets, until he came to the low stone building that housed the leaders of the Temaltans on the island. He walked through the door, and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
“Yes, novice, what is it?” A voice came from the shadows, and Vedek prostrated himself on the floor in what he hoped was the right direction.
“I have come to ask for an assignment, masters.” His voice was slightly muffled , and he coughed, inhaling some of the dust from the floor.
“You? A novice? You should know that we rarely assign even fully pledged priests. And now you want an assignment, and not only that, but I would assume that you have a specific one in mind. Well, speak your desire and we will hear you.”
Vedek raised himself onto his knees. He could see a little better now. The black-robed masters sat on a large stone bench behind a table of polished granite. Through the door behind them, he could catch a glimpse of a hallway that might lead to many more rooms.
“I want to be assigned to the village of Leti, on the southern shore. I believe that there may soon be trouble there, and would like to be able to report on it first-hand. The situation with the Astaldi is unstable, and if anything were to break out on any of the islands, it could upset the balance of the whole.”
One of the masters rasped out a laugh. “And even if something did happen in a village on one island, what could a novice hope to do to stop it from happening?”
Vedek felt his temper flare, but kept the anger from showing in his face. “Of myself, nothing, but it would give you a set of eyes and ears in the village. However, while the presence of a fully-pledged priest might make the villagers nervous, a novice would be less threatening to them.”
The priests did not confer, but merely glanced at each other, as if to confirm a common thought, and Vedek’s heart sank.
“No, novice. We will not assign you to Leti, nor to anywhere. We have no need of eyes or ears in that village; the regular rounds have given us nothing of interest there. And in addition to this, you seem to have a great desire to go there. We do not know, nor do we care, what this desire is, but it is inappropriate in a novice, particularly one as old as you are. Root it out, novice, root out the desire and whatever causes it. Now, go back to your house, and do not ask such foolish things again.”
Vedek’s lips were set firmly in a stubborn grimace, but he bowed perfunctorily, and left the room. As he walked briskly back through the streets to the novices’ quarters, he fumed. Why was it his accursed luck that the only shell available to him was that of a novice? Unfortunately, the brutal training sessions made novices the most easily available shell for Projectors to inhabit; fatal blows were not uncommon, and Projectors found such young bodies easier to repair than older ones. He swore under his breath, and momentarily considered going to Leti on his own, but decided against it. If he went, they would pursue him, and that would be almost sure to cut off his access to the Suktisian girl if he did not capture her consciousness very quickly. And if he went to Leti alone, and tried to corner the girl, it was always possible that he would be caught in the act by the villagers. It was not unheard of for enraged Astaldi to kill a priest who offended them, and a novice would certainly pose no real barrier. No, he would have to wait until the next time his party passed through the village. He walked back into the encampment, and began to prepare himself for the day’s training.

28ish

2007-11-15T21:59:00.000-08:00

“That is very good work today, Tsuda!” Lida smiled as she examined Tsuda’s tight weaving on the hammock. “Soon, I think you will be caught up to the other girls; we are learning how to mend tears in skirts; you will ffind that one of your most useful skills, I believe. You’ll pick it up in no time, I am sure of it!” Lida patted her gently on the shoulder, then moved on to look at the work of some of the other girls.
Rashdi, who was sitting next to Tsuda, chuckled under her breath. “I’m sure you could catch up, Tsuda, if you stayed, but you won’t. Tomorrow you’ll be running off to play in the sea again, and all of the men in Leti will see you running through the streets, half-naked and grimy with salt water.”

Tsuda felt her cheeks flame, but kept her eyes on her work and said nothing.

"It's alright, Tsuda," another girl spoke up. "I'm sure you won't have any trouble finding a husband. Enough traders come through the town that you'll find someone who hasn't seen you make such a fool of yourself." More giggling ensued, and Tsuda's hand trembled. One of the fronds she was weaving slipped loose, and she carefully worked it back in to the pattern.

She heard a rustle beside her as someone sat on the bench. "It's ok, don't listen to them. You're every bit the woman they are, they just don't like anyone who is different." Tsuda looked over and saw a young girl smiling at her. Her hair was long, and was the color of dried palm leaves. Her eyes were blue like the sky in the morning, and she wore a very earnest expression. Tsuda recognized her as the daugher of the Ersan ambassador; he had insisted that his daughter be brought up in the ways of the Astaldak, and it had caused quite a sensation at the time. By now, Kaedti was generally accepted as a normal presence in the group, but she had never really fit in. Her clothes were always the best that her father could buy, and somewhat less casual than most of those in the village. Today she wore a brilliant blue skirt, with matching shirt, and a string of beads hung low across her forehead.

Tsuda smiled slightly, and resumed her weaving. "Oh, I know. It just gets to me sometimes. I am trying to grow up a little though; ym mother wants to present me in the temple soon."

"Oh, really? that's wonderful! You'll be able to join in the prayers then, and learn how to run your house!" Kaedti leaned forward, and rested her chin in her hand. "I get to learn how to direct servants to do everything, which sounds much less interesting." The younger girl looked so dejected that Tsuda had to smile.

"I'm not convinced that it will actually be very interesting. I would rather walk on the beach all day, but I suppose that everyone has to grow up sooner or later." She pulled a final frond into place, and clamped it with the wooden rods nearby. The two girls stood and walked out of the garden, Tsuda keeping her usual quick pace, and Kaedti trying to keep up, looking over her shoulder at the other girls who walked more slowly. Tsuda noticed, and slowed her steps until the main crowd caught up with them. As they entered the main street, the girls dispersed in groups of twos and threes, until Kaedti and Tsuda were alone again.

"I need to go see Mede...Kaedti, do you know Mede? She doesnt' come to the lessons, so I'm not sure if you've met."

Kaedti shook her head, beads jangling. "No, but I need to go, my father wanted me to come straight home from the class. But I would like to meet her; maybe some other time?" Tsuda nodded, and Kaedti beamed. "Oh good! In fact, my father is having a celebration soon, to commemorate the the alliance between the Astaldak and Ersa, I will make sure that both of you receive invitations." Tsuda groaned inwardly; she was not fond of large gatherings, but she could tell that Kaedti was exited at the prospect of the invitations, so she smiled, and agreed.

--------------------------

Mede was not in her garden, so Tsuda sat on the bench to wait for her. She picked up a dead twig from the ground and bgean idly drawing in the dust. Slowly a design took shape: a young woman rising from the foam of the waves crashing on a beach. Her eyes were drawn upwards to a sky filled with stars. Tsuda smiled, and added a final flourish to the waves.
"That's a very interesting design." Tsuda yelped and jumped up, whirling around. Mede's father stood a few paces behind her; she'd been so intent on the drawing that she hadn't heard him come in. "I didn't know that the Astaldak ever did any figurative art."

tsuda stood silently, unsure of how to respond. She quickly rubbed her foot over the image until nothing could be distinguished from the random prints in the dust. Mede's father chuckled humourlessly. "Don't worry, I am not going to tell anyone, if that's what you're concerned about."

He handed her a tightly rolled scroll. “Here. Mede asked for this, will you please give it to her when she returns?” He bowed slightly, and retraced his steps through the garden. Tsuda waited until he was gone, and then sat back on the bench with a sigh of relief. Where was Mede? She was usually more punctual than Tsuda, but perhaps she had had to run out on a sudden errand. Tsuda lay down on the bench, and closed her eyes.

She was just beginning to drift into sleep when she heard someone come noisily into the garden; she sat up quickly, hastily checking to see that her hair was still pinned in place. Mede was moving quickly towards her, carrying a small basket, and casting furtive glances over her shoulder.

“Mede, where have you been?” Tsuda exclaimed. “You shouldn’t be rushing around so much anyway; here, sit down. Dear, what’s the matter?” Mede’s eyes were wide, and she seemed to be struggling to catch her breath.
“I am so sorry, Tsuda, I didn’t mean to be late. I just went out to get some things from the market. I was on my way back, when I ran into one of the monks. He seemed suspicious of me from the very beginning, and he made me show him what I’d bought at the market.” She pulled a small blank scroll out of the basket, followed by some simple brushes and a small pot of ink. “He wanted to know why a girl would be buying such things, since few here read, much less write. I couldn’t think of a reason that he might belive, so I told him the truth. He ran his eyes over my hair and face, and said that perhaps it was not so unusual that a girl like me would be writing. Oh Tsuda, this may be nothing, but I am afraid. If he discovers who I am, what my father does, we are all in danger. But…perhaps he only meant that perhaps it was not so unusal that a foreign girl could read…Thank the Twins, the Temaltans have not brought the entire planet under their thumb.” She cleared her throat, and took a deep breath. “Well, enough of that! I forgot to get the learner’s scroll from my father, so we’ll just have to make do on our own.”

“Oh, I almost forgot! Your father came by, and he left this for you.” Tsuda handed Mede the scroll.

“Wonderful! This really will make things easier. This is what the acolytes in the temple use to learn to read.” She paused, and looked up at Tsuda. “My father came here? And spoke to you? How odd! He rarely speaks to anyone, even me. What did he say?”

Tsuda shrugged, and dug her toe into the ground. “I don’t really remember…not much. I’d been doodling on the ground to amuse myself, and didn’t hear him come in to the garden. He remarked on how odd he found it that a native Astaldaki would be drawing a picture like that, then he gave me the scroll for you, and left. I don’t think he was here for more than three minutes at the most.”

Mede stared off into the distance for a moment, then turned to Tsuda, and opened the scroll. “I never have been able to understand him. It’s hopeless. Now, to begin with the reading! Here are the letters of the Astaldi alphabet.”

Tsuda was a quick learner, and in a very short time she was reading simple stories and writing sentences. Whie Tsuda puzzled out an old folk tale, Mede walked slowly through the garden. The flowers had just put on fresh growth, and the whole enclosure seemed almost to glow with green light. Mede stopped near the house to pull a few dead leaves off a winecup vine, and when she straightened up, she saw the black-garbed figure of a Temaltan novice in the entrance. Her first response was fear, but she pushed it away. She looked calmly into his green eyes, and neiher moved for a long moment. Then in a rustle of black fabric, the monk had moved on, and Mede returned to Tsuda’s side. “Were you able to understand the story alright?”

The other girl nodded, eyes still fixed on the scroll. “Yes, I think so. I know the story of the fall of Sukdis anyway, and that made it a little easier to figure out the words.” She paused, resting her finger on the surface of the scroll, and read, “ ‘And the floor of the great temple split in two, swallowing the priests and the sacrifice whole. The seas began to boil, and the earth itself began to shake. By the time dawn spread her robe across the sky, the entire land had sunk inot the sea, and only a few boats floated amidst the wreckage. So fell Sukdis, city of pride, and so was ended the golden age of Ersada.’ “
Mede smiled encouragingly. “excellent! I think I will send you home with some of the historical scrolls this time.”
“Mede, you said that you would teach me how to remember. I still…I still want to know who I was. The dreams keep coming, more every night, and I want to know what they mean.” Tsuda’s voice was quiet, and calm.
Mede stood still for a moment, thinking. Was this the right time? And what if, Su forbid, the monks should find out about this? They would punish Tsuda and her family. The memory of the monk at the gate flasherd through her mind, nad she saw for a moment the stone-covered courtyard of her dreams, blood running quickly between the stones.
“I don’t know if we should, Tsuda. I don’t want to put you in danger.”
Tsuda stood, brushing dust off her skirt. “It’s too late now. I have to know, and I no longer care what happens. My parents are still full believers. Please, Mede, you are my friend. My only friend, for several years now. Please don't act like I haven't considered the dangers. I have. I know what I'm doing, and I'm even taking precautions." She smiled faintly and gestured toward her hair. "See? I'm trying to be a little more adult...And my mother is going to present me at the women's court in the temple soon, and then they will begin negotiating to find a husband. If I'm ever going to learn this, it needs to be now." Tsuda swallowed hard, and fell silent.

Mede nodded. "I hoped that's what you would say. I just didn't want to force you into anything you didn't truly want."

Laughing, Tsuda stood, and climbed into the hammock. "as if you could! You know as well as I do how stubborn I am."

"no one knows it better than me! Alright, now lay down, and make yourself as limp as you can. You're going to try to forget about where you are in this time as much as possible. I'm going to tell you as much as I can now, since you won't be able tio hear me when you go back. Now...."

Tsuda sank slowly into herself, struggling not to wake. She could still hear Mede's voice in the far distance, whispering like a stream, but even that finally silenced. She sank further down, and entered the tunnel of flickering light that she found in the depths of her mind. Like Mede, she felt herself drawn into one image, drawn closer and closer until suddenly she was in the image, looking out through new eyes, at a garden enclosed by a stone wall. She could not see over the wall, but she knew there was desert beyond. At her side was a young woman with ginger hair.

She reached out and clasped the hand of the woman beside her. ""Ved..." Her voice did not sound like her voice; it was older, richer.

"Yes, lady?" The woman responded.

"Ved, tell me who you are."

"I am Ved, lady, manager of the household of Mushad, in Kemal, in the land of Kedon. which gives tribute and homage to the priests of the Temaltan isles." Tsuda felt a tremor at the name of Mushad, but did not understand it.

"No,. I want to know who you really are. I will tell no-one, and will never ask again, but Ved, I must know." She squeezed the woman's hand gently, and looked back out towards the setting sun.

"I am Madak, of the house of Lothel, in the Selides islands. I am a priestess, and was being prepared to become the head of my order." Her pale fingers twitched nervously as she continued. "Every year, in the month of Temala, we go out on our temple boats to the spot where Suktis fell into the sea. My people fled from Suktis when she fell, lead by a priestess of the Great Temple there. When they reached the Selides, and found shelter, they thanked the gods for sparing them, and promised to return and pray for forgiveness for the sins of Suktis. We return every year, say our prayers, and send our sacrifices down into the depths."

The ginger-haired woman leaned down, and took Tsuda’s hand in both of hers. As their eyes met, Tsuda felt a shock go through her/

She was moving upwards, shooting towards the surface of her consciousness. Her eyes flew open and she gasped.

“Tsuda? What is it? Are you alright?” Mede grabbed Tsuda’s hand and rubbed it briskly. “Your hands are freezing, I think you’re under a bit of shock. Just stay there, I’ll be right back.” Mede sprinted into the house, and returned in a few moments carrying a small water jug and a clay cup. She buried the end of the jug in the fire pit and lit a small blaze. In a few minutes, the water was warm and Mede poured some of it into the cup for Tsuda. “Here, drink this. It’ll warm you up, and the herbs should help calm you a little. I’m so sorry, I didn’t expect you to come up out of it like that.”

The cup was warm as Tsuda took it, and sipped it carefully. “I saw that garden…or, at least…one of the gardens..I think there are two. It was sunny and hot, and there was sand..a desert. I was sitting on a bench beside..” She glanced at her friend quickly. “Beside someone. And we were talking…she said something about the house of…of Mushad. And that name meant something, but I don’t quite know what…And then I looked into her eyes, and…” Her voice caught in her throat, and she fell silent, draining the cup to its dregs.

Mede’s voice was so quiet that it almost could not be heard. “And the other woman was me, wasn’t it? I’ve been told that you can sometimes see it in the eyes. When I go into that memory, I see you sitting on the bench. You don’t look like you do now, but it’s the same eyes. Something about it hurts to remember.” A small dry sob escaped her, and she covered her mouth with a hand, then smiled. Her eyes shone brightly with tears that would never fall, and she took Tsuda’s hand in her own.

Tsuda suddenly lunged and embraced Mede in an almost stifling embrace. “I’m so glad you found me again,” she whispered through sudden tears.

27ish

2007-11-15T21:58:00.000-08:00

“Tsuda! I’m so happy to see you, I have something amazing to tell you!” Mede ran up to join her friend on the path to the market place. The two girls linked their arms and entered the crowded market.

“I need to go almost everywhere, is there anything in particular you need?” Mede asked Tsuda.

“No, not especially, but I want to go to the fabric seller’s booth; I need to see if they have some dyes that I want to try.”

Mede examined the fruit, and began selecting a variety of them. “Oh really? Are the girls doing some new things with fabrics in the lessons? I thought you were still working on weaving.”

Tsuda sighed, and rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, the hammocks, because goodness knows the stars will fall from the sky if the girls of Leti do not learn to make their hammocks. No, the dye is for me, I just want to try something. I don’t even know if it will work at all.” Her thoughts drifted back to the small figurine she had left drying in the sun that morning.

The two girls walked back towards Mede’s house, laden with bags. The sun shone overhead, but the breezes blew from the sea and cooled the air to a pleasant mildness. Tsuda’s heart rose as she walked side by side with her friend, and she soon found herself singing. The tune was one that any Astaldak child would know, and she made the words up as she went.

“As I was a-walking
Down to the fair seashore
Along with my dear friend,
The joy of my heart,

The wind it was springing
The birds they were singing
The sun shone down brightly
Upon us that day.”

Mede laughed uproariously, and joined in:

“We jumped from the cliffside
And swam in the ocean
We ran under the sun and played in the light

Then when the dark night fell
And the stars shone brightly
Then we went to join them
Forever in light.”

Tsuda smiled, and kicked up a small spray of sand. “Do you really believe that part?”
“Which part?” Mede unlinked her arm, and twirled lightly over the sand on the beach.
“Careful, you don’t want your foot to split open again. That part about being forever in light.”
Mede shrugged, tucking the hem of her skirt into the waistband. “I think so. Otherwise I don’t see much point in all this living and learning and dying. It’s such a waste otherwise.”

“Well, then, what’s wrong with the monk’s way of doing things? They keep saying to free ourselves from desire, to let go of earthly things…How is your way any different?” The two began wading carefully through the surf as the waves rushed up the beach. Mede was careful to step around any bits of shell or driftwood that had washed up on the shore. Stepping delicately around a bright yellow driki shell, she replied, “Well for one thing, I don’t plan to get rid of my desires. Control them, yes; direct them to the proper things, of course.” She looked up and grinned suddenly. “But how can you think that all the things you want are bad?” She flung an arm towards the horizon: Selni was visible through the mist, and the sea shone bluie and green in the golden sun. “There, does that not make you desire to be on Selni? Smell the breeze that blows across the waters; I can smell the oils and spices! And how can that be bad?”

Tsuda reveled in the scent for a moment before looking at her friend. “That’s not an answer, you know. Of course the body would desire such things, but who is to say that the soul does not draw back from them?”

“Oh, you silly girl! You never used to ask so many questions. Let me think…oh! It’s like a cahbi fruit. You peel back the rind to get to the sweet seeds; the seeds are like the spirit. Yes, the seeds are the purpose of having the fruit in the first place. But you cannot grow the seeds by themselves. When you peel back the rind, you see hundreds of tiny threads, attaching the seeds to the rind itself. It is like that with us. What affects the outside affects the inside, and vice versa. The body is not a prison, but a…well, a window of sorts.” Mede brushed the loose strands of her hair back from her face. “I see you, and by means of my eyes, our souls meet. The body is a gift, not a trap.”

The mood was still and quiet for a few moments, the silence broken only by the water and the cries of the sea birds. Then Mede laughed, “I’m sorry, I got too serious again. It’s just that it’s been so long since I’ve been able to talk to anyone about these things.”

“What about your father? Isn’t he interested?”

“Oh yes, but he’s hardly ever home. I think eventually he will stop coming home at all, but as long as I am not yet grown, I think he feels obligagted to make an effort.” She grasped her friend’s arm. “I almost forgot to tell you, Tsuda, last night he showed me how to go back a little further! I only got a glimpse, but I know I can do better with practice. But no more of that now. I feel like I could almost burst with energy!”

Tsuda laughed and scooped up a handful of seaweed from the shore. Lobbing it at her friend, she yelled,”You’ve been cooped up for too long, Mede! You’ve forgotten how to play!” Whooping she dodged the handful of wet sand that was Mede’s answer, and ran giggling up the beach.

Hours later, Tsuda wandered home, somewhat bedraggled, but very content. It had been too long since she and Mede had run like that over the sands. As she walked, she fingered the small pots of dyes that she carried in a small basket; a small sun-baked clay figure lay in the basket next to them.
As she entered the garden of her house, she saw her mother glance out of the doorway. She waved, and quickly moved to her section of the garden, and stoked up the fire. When the coals were roaring hot again, she buried the clay shape in the depths of the fire, and banked it again for the night. She climbed into her hammock and fell asleep almost instantly.

As the sun peered over the tops of the trees, Tsuda awoke, and stretched her stiff limbs. She was just about to check on the statue, when she saw her mother make her way through the garden. Tsuda slid out of the hammock and tried hastily to comb her out into a semblance of order.

“Good morning, Tsuda, did you sleep well?” Kerin’s smile was bright, but Tsuda thought she could detect a hint of nervousness behind it.

“Yes, I did. I think running around the beach tired me out a little. I havent’ slept that well in a week, I think.”

Kerin sat down in the hammock, and beckoned Tsuda to sit beside her. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Your father and I talked last night, and we think that perhaps we’ve been a bit too lax with you. You’ve been neglecting your lessons, and you never spend time with the other girls.” She held up a hand as Tsuda opened her mouth to speak. “No, we’re not saying that you have to spend less time with Mede—we know how much you mean to each other. But it’s time you began acting more like a woman and less like a child.”

Tsuda sat in silence for a moment, chewing her lower lip nervously. “I suppose that means no more swimming? Or jumping off the cliffs at the beach?”

Kerin laughed, and wrapped an arm round her daughter’s shoulders. “No, not to say that you cannot do those things, just…don’t spend all your time doing them. I will show you more about how to run the household, and we will present you at the temple during the harvest time. That should give you a few years in the maiden’s court before someone speaks for your hand.” She ran a hand lovingly over Tsuda’s white-gold hair. “And I do not think that you will have any difficulty attracting a good husband, with that hair and those eyes. You look so much like my aunt it startles me sometimes.”

“And the other girls? I will be spending more time with them, I assume, in the courts and the lessons?” The young woman shifted uncomfortable on the hammock, her feet dangling awkwardly. Kerin slipped delicately off the hammock, and took Tsuda’s hand between her own. “Don’t worry so much, Tsuda. You will enjoy being a woman. I garuntee it.” She gave her one last smile, and made her way back to the house.

Tsuda knelt down by the fire, and carefully uncovered the statue. She didn’t notice the single tear that dripped down and sizzled on the coals.

The little figurine stood steaming slightly in the cool morning air; Tsuda had brushed the last of the ashes off of it, and used sand to abrase away any remaining imperfections.

It was another winged shape, but this time small stylized flames erupted around it, seeming to propel it upwards into the air. As it sat cooling, she opened the little jars of thick dye paste that the cloth merchant had sold her. They had been expensive, but she thought they might be worth it. She glanced around the garden, and finally picked up a small twig. She rubbed one end of it against a stone until it was soft, and the fibers separated, then dipped it in the jar holding the yellow dye, and slowly spread it onto the form.

As the sun rose higher, she became absorbed in the work, the dye covering her hands in a patchwork of colors. Finally, she stepped back from her work, and her breath caught in her throat. The figure was swathed in a gown of bright blue, dotted all over with golden stars. The wings were of red, green, and purple feathers, each a single brushstroke, and the flames were a roiling mass of red and yellow dye. It wasn’t like anything she had seen before, but she knew that it was beautiful.

Tsuda felt the sun on her shoulders, and turned her face upward to catch its light. It was almost as if, she thought wildly, even the sun approved of her work. She glanced downward again, and for the first time noticed the dye on her hands; streaks of it had gotten onto her skirt as well. She swore under her breath, and quickly rubbed her hands with the sand to remove the dye. Most of it came off, but the specks of blue seemed permanently painted on, and she didn’t know how she would disguise the damage to the skirt. She took off the stained fabric and hastily wrapped a new one around her waist.

She ran down to the river as quickly as she could, and stood on the bank beside the rock. Thrusting the cloth under the cool water, she scrubbed the fabric until she could see streams of color running from the skirt into the water. She held it up, and noted with a groan that once again, all of the colors had come out, except the blue. She wrung the material out, and quietly returned home. She spread the skirt out on the ground, and quickly devised a simple pattern that would disguise the error; kneeling carefully, she daubed the blue dye onto the fabric in a geometrical pattern, and soon the original streaks blended in with the new design. Tsuda spread the cloth on a low wall to dry in the sun, and scrubbed her hands clean again.
The sculpture had dried in the hot sunlight, and Tsuda stored it away in a little box under her hammock. She was about to close the box when a dim glint caught her eye. She reached back in and pulled out a set of small metal hair combs. She had almost forgotten about them, but her parents had given them to her on her last birthday. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now she realized that they were giving here a hint, that it was time to leave childhood behind, and enter into her adult life.

Tsuda sighed, the combs weighing heavily in her hands. She clumsily pulled her hair up, pinning it in place with the combs. Once she was certain that her hair was secure and would not easily come down, she stood, and walked sedately down to the gardens where she knew her classmates would be meeting.

26ish

2007-11-15T21:57:00.000-08:00

Tsuda wound her way through the streets and headed for the river. The rock was bathed in sunlight, and she could see that the little winged figure was still perched on the edge where she’d left it the previous night. She picked it up gingerly; it was still warm from the sun, and had baked dry. She turned it over carefully in her hands, running her fingers over the wings.
Instead of throwing it into the river as she had planned, she carefully carried it home. The sun was still above the tops of the trees as she built a small fire in her own section of the garden. She had laid down a deep layer of sand and built the fire on that, tending it until it was little more than glowing coals. She reached down carefully and set the figure amidst the coals, as she had seen the potters do with some of their simpler pots, and raked the coals over it. She kept the fire hot until the sun was gone; she quickly raked sand over the coals to hide the blaze and went indoors to dinner.
Tsuda lay in her own hammock under the stars, dreaming fitfully.

She walked a stone pathway in the enclosed garden; green leaves spread on every side and delicate blossoms waved in the breeze, so different from the bold flowers of Leti. She turned and it was night in the garden. The two moons leapt across the sky, and silhouetted a dark figure; his eyes blazed green from out of shadowed sockets, and she cried out. Lightning of red and blue flickered across the sky, and the garden stood dry and dead in the sunlight. The wind blew dried leaves down the pavement towards a doorway, and she followed it. As she went through the doorway, she saw a figure at the end of the hallway; her face was a golden mask and her hair elaborately braided. The ground split open, and Tsuda fell, hitting the water with a splash.

She struggled to swim, until she woke and found that the waves were nothing more than the netting of the hammock. In the east the sun was just peeking over the horizon. She slipped to the ground, and made her way across the dewy garden to the spot where she had buried the coals in the sand. The sand seemed to be glowing faintly in the early morning light, and Tsuda assmed that it was still hot from the banked fire.

She found the rake, and gently brushed the coals back until the little figure lay within sight. She took two sticks and maneuvered it unto the sand, where she let it cool in the early morning breeze. After an hour or so she was able to handle it, and the cool clay felt smooth against her fingers. The little form seemed almost alive, desperate to wing its way out of her grasp and up to the sky.
“Mede, look what I made yesterday!” Tsuda thrust the little statue into her friend’s hands, setting down her water jar with a thump on the ground.
“Oh, let me see!” Mede took the figure, and examined it carefully, eyes glowing with delight. “Tsuda this is wonderful! I havent’ seen anything like it since we left…home. But I thought that the Astaldak did not make any figurative art?”
Tsuda, shrugged slightly. “I suppose not. I think the priests think that depicting anything with a spirit is an affront to the spirit. It’s not good to use material things to show the immaterial. But I wasn’t trying to make anything or any one in particular, so I guess it’s alright.” She fidgeted slightly, and added, “All the same, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about it. I don’t need anyone checking into my life right now.”
Mede nodded, and cupped the figure in her palms. “Kio came earlier today. He looked at my foot and said that if I’m careful, I’ll be able to start walking around again tomorrow. Do you want to go to the market with me? Our stock of food has run a little low since I haven’t been able to go buy the things we need, and I’d like to prepare some proper food for my father. He promised me that he’d come home from the temple to sleep at least three nights this week.” Mede lowered her voice. “He also said he would teach me a little more about how to reclaim memories of previous lives. He didn’t want to teach me any of that since it’s more risky here, but I persuaded him. I told him I’d do it on my own if he didn’t, and that seemed to scare him a little. I’ll let you know what I find out. I know there are some rituals that are more powerful when two people participate, instead of just one.”

After bathing the wound on Mede’s foot again, Tsuda settled in her accustomed place on the bench by the hammock. “So, have you found anything interesting in the scrolls since yesterday?”

Mede shook her head. “No, just the bits I read to you. Nothing else I read seems familiar at all.” She shifted her weight to get more comfortable and turned to look at Tsuda. “That’s part of what I want my father to teach me; I think I can learn to remember that past life, and see if you are there, since you remember some of the same things. I don’t know how we’d recognize ourselves, but…maybe there’s a way.”
Tsuda nodded, eyeing the scrolls nervously. “I…Mede, I want to be able to read them for myself. It’s not that I don’t trust what you read, I just…want to be able to see it with my own eyes.”

The other girl nodded. “I think so…it may take a while, though. Do you know your letters yet?” Tsuda shook her head. “Hmm, well, that complicates things a little. But don’t worry. We’ll start after market tomorrow.”
After Tsuda left to go home, Mede sat in her hammock, staring up at the sky and thinking. She heard a rustle, and sat up to see her father making his way through the garden. He looked tired, and his brown hair was mussed.
“Father, did you go another night without sleeping? You’ve got to stop this. There is time enough for your work without losing sleep over it too.” She blinked back the tears that suddenly prickled her eyelids. “I have never asked you to spend more time with me; I know your studies are important. But you don’t have to do this. You can study at the temple and still come home at night. How often are you sleeping there? Five, six nights a week? “
He held up a hand, trying to stall her questions. “I just came to see how your foot is doing. I saw Kio yesterday, and he said that you should be walking around again by tomorrow. I’m glad to hear it.”
“Yes, I will be walking again tomorrow. Tsuda and I are going to the market, since we are nearly out of food for the week. Not that you would have noticed,” Mede said tiredly, rubbing her fingers across her forehead.
Her father sighed, and leaned heavily against one of the trees. “Mede, you know that I was never a good father. I am a scholar by nature, and I find it difficult to involve myself in the lives of others. Your mother was the only person I’ve ever met who could break into my little world and she is gone. If I were a better man, I could learn to be a father to you, but you’ve known for a long time that it is not going to happen. I wish it was otherwise. But I am what I am. Perhaps in the next life, I will have learned enough to open up more, but not in this one.” He kept his eyes on the ground, and did not see the single tear slip down his daughtter’s cheek.
Her voice did not waver as she spoke. “I accepted that a long time ago. I know you, and I love you for who you are. I am just afraid for your health. You will waste away if you do not remember to eat and sleep more often.”
She reached out a small warm hand, and covered his cool hand with hers. “Besides, I am happy to have a scholar for a father. You taught me to read, and you have given me the temple training that I would have received if we had stayed in the Selides. How can I not be grateful for that. Very well, if you will not come back more often, then please make me a trade. I want to learn how to do what you do. Not comparing the stories, I can already do that. But the going inwards, going back. I know you can do it, and I can do a little. But I need to know more. There’s something important that I must find out.”
He looked into her eyes, then, and saw her sincereity and resolve. “You know how dangerous it is for you to know such things. They will kill you if they find out that we have the temple training.”
She nodded, and he let out a sigh. “Very well, then. I am here now, and there is no time like the present. But here, you will need to lie down. Make yourself as comfortable and limp as you can; the less you can feel your present surroundings, the easier it is to go back.”

Mede leaned back into the cushions and let herself go limp. “Good, good…Now. After a few moments, you will not be able to hear my voice anymore, so I’m going to tell you a little bit now. You’ll want to focus on the memories and images you have. Let them flow into your mind. Soon you should be able to see through the eyes of the memory; look around you and see what you can find. Try to feel the sensations that are present: if the sun is shining, try to feel its warmth. If you are near the ocean, try to smell the spray. One last thing: you may see something disturbing, or significant, something related to the lessons your soul was learning. When you see something like that, the first impulse is to wake up. You must control yourself, and stay in the memory. Jolting out of it can be jarring, and make it harder ot go back. The goal is to eventually establish a permanent connection, so that all the memories of all the previous lives are at your disposal.”

She opened her eyes for a moment. “Are you able to do that yet? Remember everything without going into the trance?”

He shook his head. “No, not yet. It was easier at the temple; these things can be done in groups if the previous lives are known to have linked, and there are simply more resources. Now, close your eyes, and let yourself slip backward…let everything go…”

Mede heard her father’s voice clearly at first, but it slowly faded into a low murmur in the back of her mind. She felt weightless, as if she was floating on the waves in a quiet bay. Flickers of images passed before her eyes like usual, and she swam down towards her center. At the core of her being, she found a tunnel and entered it. The sides of the tunnel seemed made of watery images; she found herself being pulled towards one of them. She could see a wide expanse of sand through the gate of a small garden…a stone well…a young woman with dark hair and purple eyes.
At the sight of those brilliant eyes, Mede nearly jerked awake, and felt the image slipping away. But she remembered her father’s warning, and calmed herself again. The image swam into sight again, clearer this time…larger…she could feel the hot wind off the sand, like an open oven…the smell of a garden, green leaves warmed by the sun…The breeze tossing the dark locks of the young woman standing before her…

"Ved..." The young woman whispered.

"Yes, lady?" Mede responded, taking note of her name in this life.

"Ved, tell me who you are."

"I am Ved, lady, manager of the household of Mushad, in Kemal, in the land of Kedon. which gives tribute and homage to the priests of the Temaltan isles." She spoke quietly and evenly, revealing nothing in her tone or expression.

"No,. I want to know who you really are. I will tell no-one, and will never ask again, but Ved, I must know." She squeezed the woman's hand gently, and looked bak out towards the setting sun.

"I am Madak, of the house of Lothel, in the Selides islands. I am a priestess, and was being prepared to become the head of my order." Her pale fingers twitched nervously as she continued. "Every year, in the month of Temala, we go out on our temple boats to the spot where Suktis fell into the sea. My people fled from Suktis when she fell, lead by a priestess of the Great Temple there. When they reached the Selides, and found shelter, they thanked the gods for sparing them, and promised to return and pray for forgiveness for the sins of Suktis. We return every year, say our prayers, and send our sacrifices down into the depths."

She looked down, and clasped the young woman's hand tightly with both of hers. "It is always a dnagerous mission. The warrior priests do all they can to stop us. Their ship approached as we were beginning the rite; we had just enough time to finish the prayers before they attacked. There was nothing we could do, and they killed my compnanions. I was knocked into the water, and hid underneath the wreckage of our ship until they were gone. I clung to a bit of deck that floated by, and managed to make it into a raft. I was picked up by your husband's ship two days later.

Mede’s grip on the memory weakened, and she felt it slipping away from her. As she flew upwards toward her consciousness, she desperately tried to remember what she had seen. Her eyes flickered open, and she stirred. Wincing, she sat up. “Why am I so stiff?” she asked.
“Well, you were lying there for three hours.”
“Three hours! It can’t have been. I couldn’t have been gone more than twenty minutes.” She stretched her arms and rubbed the back of her neck.
“Time runs differently when you’re going back. When you loosen yourself from your present time and circumstances, you loosen yourself from the passage of time as well. You’ll have to get used to it if you want to continue your studies in this area.” His voice was calm and measured as he examined her face, checking each of her eyes. “Good, it looks like you are intact, and made a safe journey. Do you remember anything of what you saw?”

Mede nodded. “I remember. There was a garden surrounded by a stone wall…and the desert beyond…and a young woman…Yes, her! She had purple eyes, I remember! Dark hair and purple eyes.”

“Hmmm….desert…not Ersa, then…none of the Selides islands…not likely to be Suktis, but near the beach it’s always possible…I think your best bet is Kedon. It’s mostly sand there, and has been for as long as we’ve had records.”

“But her eyes…her eyes were purple!”

“We’ve always known that a few of the survivors of Suktis landed in Kedon. It’s not too surprising that the eyes should show up. However, I think it highly significant that you were connected to her. Perhaps you are her companion in life. The question remains, who is the teacher, and who the learner…?” He wandered away through the garden, and Mede let him go without a word. He would probably stay up all night again, but she had done her best.
But the purple eyes…”Tsuda?” she whispered to the night sky, but the stars shone down in silence.

50000

2007-11-11T23:42:00.002-08:00

The end of the last chapter marks 50005 words.

Oh. Yeah. Baby. 50K in 11 days.

25ish

2007-11-11T23:42:00.001-08:00

Standing, she moved from her bed and walked silently across the floor. Throwing back the curtains in front of the window, she looked out upon a vast expanse of sand shining brilliantly in the noon sun. She stepped forward, feet crunching lightly on the sand. A silent wind ruffled her skirt, and as she reached up to shade her eyes she saw a hand that was brown, like the river clay, instead of burnt umber. A strand of dark hair fell in her eyes and she brushed it away. Far away, on the horizon, she saw a figure lying prone. She moved to the side of the figure, and saw that it was a child with hair as white as the sand. The scent of winecups filled the air though she could see no vines. She gathered the child into her arms and it was night. Lightning of red and green flickered across the gleaming dome of the sky, and she laid the child on a stone altar. Flames shot up, and the ground opened beneath her feet. As she fell, she looked up, and saw all the stars turn to green eyes that watched as she fell into her own bed…

Tsuda jolted in her bed, and gasped for breath. She thrust a hand before her eyes, and saw with relief that it was still the deep rich brown that she had always known. The hair that lay in tangles before her eyes was still white gold, and there was no window in her bedroom. Her breathing slowed, her heart began to beat more quietly, and in a few moments, she fell back into a dreamless sleep.

As Tsuda entered Mede’s garden the following day, Mede breathed a quiet prayer of thanks. She had been afraid that her rash speech had driven her friend away. “I’m so glad to see you, Tsuda,” she said lightly. “I was hoping you’d come, I had my father give me a loaf of sweet bread to share with you if you came.” She held out a crisp circle of flat bread, drizzled with honey.
Tsuda smiled, and set down the steaming jar that she had brought with her. “And I brought piji for us yesterday, and completely forgot to tell you. They may be a little ripe, but they should still be alright.” She handed Mede one of the long purple fruits, and began to apply hot cloths to the foot again. “You know, this is looking much better. I should think you’d be back on your feet in the next few days.”
“And I will be ready! I was always quieter than you, but this amount of restful solitude is about to drive me clear out of my mind!” She bit off the end of the piji, and chewed slowly, letting the sweet juice trickle down her throat. “I love piji fruit. Thank you, Tsuda, for getting it.”
“Well, I like it, too, and an invalid friend is a wonderful excuse for buying treats, so don’t think I didn’t have my own reasons.” She laughed, and dipped another towel into the hot water.
“Your hair is all wet, did you go swimming?”
Tsuda nodded, and ran a hand self-consciously through the water-logged locks. “My father thought it would be a good thing. He was right, of course.” She smiled, and her purple eyes shone in brilliant contrast to her skin.
The two girls sat chattering for a while, enjoying the warm afternoon sunlight, and the breezes that drifted into the garden. But during a long silence, Tsuda suddenly spoke. “Mede, I’ve been thinking about the things you said yesterday. No, don’t say anything yet. What you said scared me, and I still don’t know what to think about it. Surely if it was true we’d have heard of it before, but I had never even imagined such a thing. I told myself that it couldn’t be true, that you were either mistaken or simply imagining things.”
Silence fell over the garden again, and Tsuda keep her eyes fixed on the flowers on the far wall. “But I couldn’t lie to myself, either. You are very sensible, much more than me, and you’ve never been given to wild imaginings. You read all the time, and you often know things that I don’t. So I couldn’t believe that it was something you’d just made up and convinced yourself was real. But I still cannot believe that such a thing can be.”
She suddenly reached over to the hammock and grabbed her friend’s hand. “Last night I had a dream, more vivid than any other I have ever had, and…” Tsuda swallowed hard and continued. “I want to know how you would know if you had lived a previous life. You said that you could sometimes tell from dreams.”

Mede nodded, and squeezed her hand slightly. “Sometimes events are written down, and you can find things there.” She grabbed the basket of scrolls that still sat on the ground under the hammock. “That’s what I’ve been doing. My father has found some of the images from my dreams in histories, but it took a very long time. I have a memory of a place with lots of sand, and little brightly colored vegetables…there’s a garden shut away in a stone wall, and a large paved plaza. I think I saw a temple of white stone once too, but I’m not as sure about that one. Anyway, that bit I read to you the other day was from one of the scrolls that he brought me. I think I was there when the woman was executed for being a witch.”

Tsuda felt as if her heart were going to break against her ribs; the scenes Mede described matched hers too closely for any comfort. “I…I’ve had the same images. Or, some of them…Mine always end with looking into green eyes. When I see them, I am so afraid that I wake myself up. But I saw the stones on the plaza…” She was nearly in tears, and pressed her palms to either side of her head. “I don’t know, I don’t know…I…maybe I am going crazy?”

“Tsuda, dear, please, it’s alright. We don’t have to do this if it’s going to hurt this much. Here, I’ll put the scrolls away, and—“

“No.” The other girl shook her head, and swallowed hard. “No, I want to know the truth. These dreams are trying to tell me something and I’m afraid I really will go mad if I don’t find out.” She shuddered, and Mede pulled on her hand.

“Here, you don’t have to be alone. Come up here in the hammock. Some things are more easily faced with someone by your side.” Tsuda carefully climbed into the hammock, being careful not to jar Mede’s foot; Mede put her arm around her friend’s shoulders, and gently unrolled one of the scrolls. “Alright then, let me read a little of this to you. It’s the account of a trader who was passing through the village at the time of the execution. He has a little more to say than the village records did. ‘When we passed through Kemal, a woman was accused of summoning a hadji to dwell among the people. When she was brought before the people, she denied that she had ever summoned such a spirit, but swore her allegiance to strange gods. She spoke arrogantly and stood proudly; her appearance was strange, her hair pale as the sand, and I did not wonder that she was fey. She was executed as a witch, and her head was cut off there in the plaza for all to see.”
Tsuda shuddered. “I think I saw that one too, but it seems beyond all belief that we should both have the same memories and dreams.”
“Actually, my father says that it is not so unusual as you might think. We are none of us journeying alone, but we help each other along the way. Simply learning the lessons from life is not enough to be taken to live with the gods; each soul must help another learn as well, and only then can our souls take flight.” Mede paused, and examined her friend’s face. “I’m sorry, Tsuda, I don’t mean to badger you; you don’t have to believe as I do. I only told you because I think it is true; if your memories are coming up, there is a reason for it, and ignoring them or treating them as simple dreams won’t help at all.”
The other girl nodded mutely. “I know. I know, but…” She shivered. “Even if everything you are telling me is true, especially if it’s true, then things will only be harder. The priests are sure to find out, and they will punish me and my family…” She clutched her friend’s hand desperately. “But they won’t find out about you, I should just tell them that I heard some of the merchants talking of the idea.”
They lay in the hammock for the rest of the afternoon, and talked no more of strange memories of far away places.

24ish

2007-11-11T23:41:00.001-08:00

The steam from the boiling water plastered Tsuda’s bangs to her forehead, and she carefully threaded a piece of rope through the clay handles of the jar. She crumbled a handful of a sweet-smelling herb in the water, and placed the lid on the jar. The jar was far too hot to carry, so Tsuda grabbed the rope handle instead, making sure not to let the jar swing too freely.
Her mother pushed back the curtain that separated the kitchen from the rest of the house, and smiled. “Going to see Mede again? You’ll probably want these, then.” She handed Tsuda a small stack of clean linen cloths; they must have been only recently washed because they still smelled faintly of the sun and the breeze. Tsuda took them, smiling, and hastened towards the door.
“Tsuda! Don’t forget to cover the fire!” Her mother called after her.

“Oh!” Startled, Tsuda set the jar down on the floor with a clatter, and ran back towards the firepit, where open coals were glowing. She carefully banked the fire until no embers were exposed, then picked up the pot again. “Thank you, Mother, I’ll be back later!” She trotted quickly out of the door, and out into the street.

The market was in full swing that morning, and she could hear the roar of trade long before she crossed through the streets where the merhcnats set up their stalls. One of the first noises to trickle distinctly through the hubbub was the crash and dash of a tambourine; the beggars of Meko must have come in. Tsuda loved watching the dancing monks, who depended on the income from their dancing in marketplaces for their support. They said that dancing freed their minds, and that they found union with the gods through it; she wasn’t sure what to think of that, but she loved watched their stsmping feet beat out the complex rhythms of their dance. As she entered the great square, she gripped the rope on the jar more tightly, and began weaving through the crowds. The chatter of housewives rose from the mass of humanity, and the bleating and braying of animals filled in any silent gaps. Brightly color skirts were the order of the day, reminding Tsuda as ever of a large flock of fiki birds.
Tsuda caught sight of the fruit-sellers’ booths, and darted through the crowds. As she approached the booth, she caught a glimpse of black robes in the crowd. Craning her neck to see a little better, Tsuda saw hair black as night, and piercing green eyes in a pale face. Her breath caught in her throat as she recognized one of the warrior priests. He must be examining the market, she thought wildly, they so rarely leave the temple grounds. The noisy plaza contrasted quite strongly with the quiet temple, and she could see that the priest did not much care for it.
She paid for two piji fruits; the fruit vendor wrapped them in large green leaves to keep them fresh, and Tsuda tucked the package into the waist of her skirt. Picking up the rope handles of the jar again, she hastened across the square, being careful to avoid the priest. She had no quarrel with them, but their green eyes always sent a chill down her spine; she tried to look at them as little as possible. More than once, she had given thanks for their isolated nature.
The roar of the market died down behind her as she made her way through the vine-draped streets that lead to Mede’s house. The jar had cooled somewhat, but she hoped that the water would still be hot enough to soothe the wound in Mede’s foot. At the garden gate, she called out, and received a shout from Mede in return.
She entered, and found her friend sitting in her hammock, with a pile of scrolls beside her. “Mede! I knew you could read, but why so much now? You need to be resting!”
Mede smiled, and carefully set the scrolls in a basket which she lowered to the ground below the hammock. “You’re later than usual today; did your lessons go alright?”
Tsuda nodded, carefully removing the lid from the jar; scented steam curled up, and she carefully dipped a few of the cloths in the hot liquid. “Yes, more weaving today. I can’t seem to keep my mind on it, though I’m good enough at it when I concentrate. I keep getting distracted by the colors, the smells, the way the light reflecting off the river makes little patterns on the undersides of the leaves.” She wrung out the cloths and wrapped them around Mede’s foot. “By the way, this cut looks a little red. Are you feeling feverish at all?”
Mede shook her head. “No, not really, but my foot has been feeling sore today. The water and herkil will probably help.” She gestured toward the scrolls in the basket. “It’s funny, you know. Today, everyone knows that herkil is good for reducing fever, but I just read an account from about two thousand years ago. They beheaded a servant for using herkil, thinking that she was a witch. It’s odd, how times change, isn’t it?”

Wisps of ginger hair mixing with the sand on paving stones

Blood soaks into the sand

Blue skin smelling of flowers

Tsuda shook her head slightly, and the images cleared. They had passed through her mind so quickly she almost believed she had imagined it. She nodded, and pulled the rapidly cooling cloth off the foot. “It is strange. Did that happen here? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.” She pulled fresh cloths from the jar, and covered the foot again.

Mede winced slightly at the heat, then replied, “No, it was in Kedon. A long time ago. I don’t think they behead people for being witches anymore.”

“Did the scroll say why using herkil made them think she was a witch?”

Shaking her head, Mede reached down and pulled the scroll from the basket. “Not really…but the Kedonese at that time were pretty superstitious. It might have had something to do with it.” She leaned forward and showed a portion of the scroll to Tsuda; Tsuda’s eyes scanned the page, and could make nothing of the delicate writing.

“You know I don’t read, Mede. In fact, I think you’re the only girl I know who does. Not even my father knows how to read.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry.” She sighed. “Back where my family comes from, nearly everyone reads. The priests don’t control those lands, and we are encouraged to learn as much as possible. But here, I’ll read a little to you.” She cleared her throat and began.

“On the ninth day of the month of Nestrad, a witch was executed in the public square. She was the housekeeper of a very influential man, but had switched his child with a hadji changeling. Her head was cut off and the changeling abandoned to the desert. The man and his wife remained under her spell, and died soon after.”

Blood seeping into sand

The whistle of a sword slicing through the air

Colored lightning flickering across polished stone

Dead hands gently crossed

Wisps of ginger hair mixing with sand on paving stones

Tsuda’s knees weakened and she grasped the tether of the hammock to keep herself from falling.

“Tsuda, are you alright? I thought you were going to faint!” Mede’s voice sounded far away at first, before slowly becoming more clear. Tsuda opened her eyes to see her friend staring at her.

“I’m…I’m alright. It’s just…” She shook her head slightly. “I think I must be coming down with a fever myself, I’m starting to see things. You know me and my over-active imagination!” She forced a laugh, and sat down on the bench for a moment.

Mede looked her over carefully; she didn’t want to increase her friend’s distress, but knowing the truth might help, in time. “Are you still having strange dreams, Tsuda? Like the one you told me about the other day?”

Tsuda’s head shot up suddenly, but then she slumped over, and nodded, resting her head in her hands. “Yes. They’re…horrible. All about blood, and dead things, and flames…I don’t understand what’s happening…Maybe Kio’s story got me too excited, and my imagination just took over from there…”

Mede paused for a moment before replying. “Mmmm…maybe…but there might be other explanations. You know my father is a scholar; you see, he studies the soul, which is why he spends so much time at the temple.” She swallowed, and plunged ahead. “I know you’ve noticed that we participate in all the temple rites, as often and as much as we can. The Temaltans would come after us in a heartbeat if they didn’t believe we were the most enthusiastic of converts. By playing by all their rules, we can do our own work without being noticed too much.” She ran her hands through her ginger hair and paused, searching for the right words.
Tsuda sat uncomfortably in the bench, wondering what could be causing Mede such distress. Of course, everyone knew that the priests did not approve of scholars, but made good use of their findings, and so allowed them to continue, though there were some things forbidden. But surely Mede’s father wasn’t involved in…

“My father studies the soul, particularly the transmigration of the soul. He goes over all the historical records that he can find, trying to find when certains souls were born into a physical body again.” Mede stopped, and looked intently at Tsuda.

The white-haired girl shivered slightly and rrubbed her arms. “But why would a soul that’s been freed ever come back? Only the earth-bound spirits would be dragged down into a body again.” She paused, twisting her fingers, then her curiousity got the better of her. “How would he even know if a soul came back? Would they remember anything from before?”

The corners of Mede’s mouth quirked upwards momentarily. “Well, many whose souls come back remember things; they can come out if someone sees something that reminds them of a previous life; these memories are often confused with visions. But the most common way for these memories to make themselves known is through dreams, when our conscious minds are less strident in their grip on our current place and time.”

Tsuda’s voice was low as she spoke. “Mede, ypou know what the priests would do if they heard you speaking this way.”

She nodded. “Yes, and that is why we attend every temple rite rigourously, and make ourselves as little known as possible. They must never know, and I beg of you, please do not tell anyone of this; my life and that of my father depends on it. But Tsuda, if you dreamed of a previous life, I can help you find out what happened in that life, and what it was that your were supposed to learn from it. Well,” she blushed, “I can try, at any rate. I am not yet skilled enough to see back into the lives of others, but I mayh be able to interpret the images that come up. When the soul re-enters into physical matter, it forgets most of what happened before, but the most important images remain, buried, but still present. These are the ones that come out in dreams.”

“But what sort of lessons could be learned from such a thing? To have a free spirit, and be pressed back into flesh again and again…What good could it do?” Tsuda paused, running her hands through her hair. “What happens when these lessons are learned, anyway?”

Mede spoke quietly and calmly. “We believe that when the lessons of life are learned, and have shaped the soul into its proper form, the soul takes flight and goes to live with the gods.” She pointed a finger upwards. “Some think that the stars are those souls who have completed their journey; I don’t know about that myself, but I do believe that our souls will be as glorious as those stars when we finish our journeys.”

The sun gleamed brightly off Tsuda’s dark skin, and she sat in complete stillness. From Mede’s sudden silence, she knew that her friend would say no more. She pressed her fingers to her temples; her head was aching. “Mede…I…I need to think about this. Please…”

Her friend nodded mutely, and sank back into the cushions of the hammock. Tsuda got up and absently brushed a few stray leaves off her skirt. She threaded her way back through the garden, and made her way out into the street, but she could not bear to go home. Her mother would know instantly that something was wrong, and she wanted time to think alone. She drifted down one of the vine covered lanes, and found herself at the small stream that ran through the town and out to the sea. There was a large flat rock that jutted out over the stream, and she seated herself on it, dangling her feet in the water. The greenery shut out most of the noises of the town, though she could still hear the calls of the merchants in the lanes, hawking their wares. She lay full-length along the stone, and gazed into the water. In the wavering surface of the river, she saw a wide-eyed girl, whose burnt-umber skin contrasted sharply with the mane of white-gold hair that flowed down her back. Purple eyes gleamed dimly from under the shade of a high brow, which was furrowed with concern and indecision. She reached out a brown hand and touched the surface of the water, shattering the image. She scooped a handful of clay out of the bank, and rolled onto her side on the cool rock. The clay was supple and slippery under her fingers, and more than once she nearly let it slide back into the water. But the prodding of the clay seemed to relieve the whirling of her thoughts, and let them fall into something resembling sanity.
She wanted to simply dismiss Mede’s words as the fantasy of an impressionable girl, but Mede was not the type to think herself more powerful than she was. She was extraordinary sensible for a sixteen-year-old, probably more so than tsuda herself, who was one month her senior. Her habit of jumping off cliffs not-withstanding, she was generally the most thoughtful and sane person that Tsuda knew.
But the priests surely knew more about this than one scholar and his daughter. Perhaps Mede had even misunderstood her father; how much detail would he have told her, anyway? Perhaps she simply picked up on idle conversation, and wove her own vivid dreams into the scraps of theory she had heard…
Tsuda sighed again, and prodded the lump of clay somewhat harder than she had intended. She smoothed out the lump as best as she could, and set it gently on the stone.
It was an odd thing; a small, winged figure, she thought, but it was somewhat crudely done, and the shape was not entirely evident.
She left it there, and made her way back up the street to her home. Her mother called to her as she came in, but Tsuda did not hear her. She sat in her own family’s garden until night fell. As the stars came out, she gazed upwards, watching the sparkling lights.
Her father joined her, and sat down on the bench beside her. “Your mother tells me that something has been troubling you today.”

She looked over at him; he was dressed in the manner of most of the men of the Astaldak. He wore loose-fitting pants, bright blue, that made his skin seem almost black by comparison. He wore nothing on his chest save a worn leather cord from which dangled a few tokens of vows made to the gods. Tsuda absently wondered what the vows were, and how soon he would fulfill them and give the gold tokens to the temple.

“It’s…nothing. I think I’m just tired, and ready for things to return to normal. I love Mede, but…” Her voice trailed off, and her father chuckled. “You are tired, I think, because you have not been doing enough. When you work at your lessons, swim for hours, and run about the village like a barbarian, you have more than enough energy, but sitting quietly tires you, I think. It’s almost as though something within you were trying to get out. Sometimes I believe that you are all spirit, and that you will burn your way out of that body soon.”

Tsuda thought briefly of her little winged figure, reaching out for something just beyond its reach, but said nothing. She wished she had dropped it back into the river; she suspected that she had been sculpting her idea of a soul in Mede’s myth, and such a thing was beyond improper. She would go back to the stone in the morning, and make sure that the thing was gone. She was surprised at how much the idea of destroying the clumsy figure hurt her.

“Tsuda, my child, tomorrow I recommend that you beg Mede’s pardon, and go off and spend at least an hour swimming or running about. Your friend can spare you for that long, and I think it will do you a great deal of good.” He reached out and gently stroked her hair, silver in the light of the moons. “And I will ask the gods to heal your friend quickly so that you may run around like little barbarians soon.”

She smiled, and he laughed. “I will take my leave of you now, but please do remember to sleep tonight.” He wound through the garden, and went into the house.

The dim light from the lamps of the house shone out warm and golden in the deep blue of the night. Tsuda saw a small winecup vine near the window, its crimson blooms shining like gems in the warm light. Her heart rose into her throat, and a longing for a far-away home washed over her.

“How can this be?” she whispered. “I have known no other home than this, and I am sitting in my own garden. How can I yearn so much for somewhere I have never been?” With an aching heart, she stood, and walked through the doorway into the house.

23ish

2007-11-11T23:40:00.001-08:00

An hour later, Tsuda helped Mede into her bed; the hammock was strung between two pillars in the garden. Most Astaldak children slept outside, but moved indoors to sleep after reaching adulthood. It took a few moments for the usually nimble girl to enter the hammock, but it was done in the end, and Tsuda seated herself on a small bench close to the bed.
The two sat silently for a while, each dwelling upon her own thoughts. Tsuda didn’t want to tire Mede, but didn’t want to leave her alone, either. Her father was a scholar, and spent such long days in the temples that he often spent the night there, sleeping in the room provided for visitors, and those in need of assistance; Mede’s mother had died years before, shortly after they came to Leti. Mede had once told her that her mother had died of a broken heart, living so far from her homeland. She explained that they had lived in Ersa until she was about four years of age, when he father moved to Leti, to study in the great temple. Tsuda idly wondered if he was studying history, and knew the stories of the war that Kio would never tell them.
The warmth of the afternoon added to the soothing scented breezes and began to lull her to sleep. She leaned against the back of the bench, and tilted her head back; her eyes slowly closed, and she dreamed.

Blood spilled on the sand, and turned to red lightning flickering on walls of stone. She turned to see a garden enclosed by high walls, and covered in little white flowers. Moonlight came like lightning, and the flowers turned to blood, blood spurting from a skull shattered by a blow. The red seeped into the sky and smoke rose across the ocean. The ocean tossed, rising above the horizon, and the green of its depths resolved into a pair of green eyes that blazed out of blackness.

She awoke with a start, biting back a cry; the garden was almost silent, except for the calls of birds and the creaking of the hammock as it swung gently in the breeze.

Mede’s thoughts whirled. She knew that the priests were in power in this part of the world, as in most others, but her father had not told her about the war. Why? Did he think that she had no need to know, that her own work was somehow unrelated. She sighed, and shifted her weight to make the hammock swing again. She had tried so many times to tell him about her work, but he still did not believe that she was serious. He believed that only time in the temples of Selidia could possibly enable a priestess to do the things she strove to do, but he had taught her more than enough, and she was a quick learner. She lay quietly, and closed her eyes. She moved back down, deeper into herself, letting go of her attachment to her current place and time. Down, down, down she swam into the murky waters of the past, and looked out of other eyes.

She saw a garden, enclosed by high walls, and a young girl standing on a stone pathway. The girl’s hair was dark, but her eyes shone brightly purple, and Mede reached out a hand to her. The girl shook her head, and walked away. Blood spilled upon the sand, and the girl stood over the fallen form of a man, clutching a rock edged in red. Mede stretched out her hand and called to her, but the girl smiled and turned away again. She felt warmth at her feet, and looked down to find herself standing in a pool of blood. Mede clutched her throat, and felt the pulse of life dim. As she fell into darkness, she heard the whistle of air as a sword swung down.

Her eyes opened suddenly, and she rose to the surface of her consciousness again. She heard Tsuda awake with a start, and reached out a hand over the edge of the hammock. “Tsuda, did you dream? It sounded like you dozed off for a moment there.” Tsuda took her friend’s hand, and smiled. “Yes, I suppose I did. It must have been a nightmare, look how much my hands are shaking!” Her dark hand clung to Mede’s pale one tightly, taking strength in her friend’s closeness and composure. Mede hung on to Tsuda’s hand, wanting to give comfort, but finding herself more in need of it than able to give it.

“Tsuda…”

“Yes?”

“What did you dream about?”

The stillness of the garden reigned for a few moments, then Tsuda spoke. “Oh…nothing of any interest. Just…random things…you know how dreams are. I saw the ocean, and smoke in the sky, and a garden. The garden had lots of the little winecups, I remember that. And blood.” She frowned. “Lots of blood. I suppose that must be what woke me.”

“You didn’t’ recognize anything from the dream?”

“No, should I?”

Mede paused, uncertain how much to say to her friend. “Did any of it feel familiar?”

“Well…” Tsuda thought for a moment, biting her lip nervously. “Some of it did…not the smoke, I think…but there was this pair of green eyes…I mean, someone with green eyes…I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes of that color except in the warrior priests…” She laughed suddenly, the tension smoothing from her body. “Of course, I must have been dreaming about what I imagined from the story that Kio told us.”

The mood lightened, and Mede decided to postpone telling her friend her suspicions about the dreams. After all, they might be just that: dreams. Tsuda stayed and chatted for another hour, then made her way home.

22ish

2007-11-11T23:38:00.002-08:00

The winds blew softly over the massive archipelago as evening approached. The Astaldak lands were a group of small islands spreading over a fifth of the southern hemisphere of Ersada. The climate was warm, and many flowers and fruits grew on these islands. When the evening winds came, they carried the scent of each island to all the others, mingling in a perfumed atmosphere like no other on the face of the planet.

Leti was a small town by most measurements, but it was one of the larger cities of the Astaldak. Set on the beach of the island Mei, it shone red in the setting sun, and the waves lapped the sand quietly. A small child knelt in the spray, clutching handfuls of sand, laughing as the waves eroded the small piles of sand that she built. Her purple eyes shone brightly in the evening light, and her white-gold hair, soaked with seawater, was plastered back against her skull.

“Tsuda!” A voice floated out over the sand and mixed with the crashing of the waves. “Tsuda, wait for me, don’t get lost.” A young woman walked swiftly through the sand and crouched down by the waterside. “Building sand domes again?” She smiled, dark eyes dancing. “Well, there will be more time for that tomorrow. It’s getting late and it’s time to go home.”

The girl nodded, and took her mother’s hand. As they walked away from the beach, she looked over her shoulder; the waves came in and washed over the insubstantial structure until it was little more than a slight swell on the shore.

Tsuda sat idly, looking out over the gardens. They were large and well-kept; plants flourished on Mei, and it took a great deal of effort to keep them trimmed back. She loved the bright boldly colored flowers that hung from most of the trees. There were the great purple nelias that were broad and cup-shaped—Tsuda had often used them as hats as a child—and the sweeping vines of tiny orange bisi that hung like beaded curtains over the walls. But of all the brightly colored flowers, her favorites were the small white flowers; they were plain and unassuming by day, but flushed red under the light of the moon. Mooncups, she thought, were the most beautiful of all, even though they often got ignored for the brighter colors.
“Tsuda!” The girl jerked to attention, and looked up at her teacher.
“I am sorry, Me Lida, I was day-dreaming.” She took up the green kele fronds and began weaving them together.
“Tsuda, you must pay attention.” The older woman leaned down, and took the weave from her hands. “You see, you relaxed your hands there when you were idling, and now the fronds will not pull taut. Here, undo it up to this point, and try again. And please, keep your mind on your work!”
The other girls laughed quietly, eyes intent on their own work. They shared Tsuda’s dark brown complection, but had the dark honey-colored hair more typical of the Astaldak peoples; her mane of white-gold hair stood out in a crowd, though it was by no means unique. A few bloodlines on the islands tended to produce such traits. When she’d asked her father about it,l he told her that it had been so for as long as anyone could remember; in fact, it had even given rise to an old folk tale about spirits from the waters coming out of the sea to live among the Astaldak.

Tsuda sighed, and blew a few strands of pale hair out of her face. Her fingers gently unlaced the weave then began again, carefully pulling each frond taut, and adding new strands when needed. The hammock was slowly taking shape, but it would be a long time before it was finished.

After another hour, Lida examined the work, and pronounced it satisfactory, though not exceptional. Wooden clamps were affixed to ensure that the pattern would not unravel, and the weaving was rolled up and stored away until the next day.
Class was dismissed, and the small garden was filled with the rustle of the brilliantly-colored robes of the girls. Each girl’s torso was wrapped in a band of cloth—yellow and blue being favorite color—that was tightly fastened under the arms and extended down to the upper thighs. Each also wore a skirt of gauzy fabric, wrapped tightly around the waist many times, and tied off at the side. These were stained with plant dyes, and had wild abstract patterns covering them.
Tsuda was dressed in a deep salmon pink, and her ytellow skirt was dotted with a smattering of white rings, created by tying the fabric tightly while dyeing it. She ran her hands over the skirt—it had been one of her first efforts and she was pleased with it.
Most of the other girls had already run ahead, eager to be free of the class, but a few lingered; some chatted for a few moments with Me Lida; Resha and Hei stood admiring each others’ new clothes. Tsuda glanced at them, then walked out of the gardens, and turned onto the trail that led to the beach.
She could hear the waves before she could see them, and the ever-present scent of the water tingled against her nostrils, and her heart skipped a beat. She entered the maze-like paths that lead from the cliffs down to the beach; the ancient sandstone was twisted and carved by the waves; some of the passages were very narrow, but those were the ones she liked best, and she slipped into one of them. Her hands trailed across the rough surface of the stone, and she reveled in the mild abrasion. The rock was still cool down here, where the sun rarely shone, and she felt the chill against her belly as she squeezed through a particularly tight spot. One last brush of the stone against her bare shoulder, and she stepped out into the late afternoon light.
She could smell the sea, and just across the way, the island of Selni, redolent with fruits and spices.
“Is that you, Tsuda?” A voice came from above, and she looked up into the pale face of Mede.
“Mede!” Tsuda called up, “What are you doing up there? Come down and let’s go into the water!”
“Hold on a moment, I am coming!” Her face disappeared, and Tsuda back away from the edge of the small cliff. A moment later, a flash of indigo flew off the cliff, and landed amidst an explosion of sand at Tsuda’s side. “Why must you always jump, Mede? You’re going to snap an ankle one of these days, and then who will swim with me?”
Mede laughed loudly, the sound echoing slightly off the stone. “You would swim by yourself without any hesitation, as you know.” She began untying her skirt, and let it fall to the sand in a pile. “Sometimes I think you were born to swim.”
Tsuda heaped her skirt on top of Mede’s. “Oh really, and what were you born to do? Jump off of cliffs?”
The girls raced to the edge of the water and ran into the surf, shrieking at the sudden chill. The water soaked their thin shifts up to the shoulders. “Let’s swim off to Selni, shall we? I’ve always wanted to drink nekti there, and today is our chance!”
Mede opened her mouth to respond, but cried out instead. “I stepped on something, I think I cut my foot!” She winced, gritting her teeth. “It’s still in my foot, I can feel it. Here, help me get to the beach.” She flung her arm around her friend’s shoulders, and they paddled back ot the shore. Mede limped, trying not to set her foot down flat on any surface; they reached the dry sand and sat down. Tsuda looked at Mede foot, but could see little. “There’s too much blood,a nd it’s wall mixed with the water, I can’t see where it’s coming from. Let me try to find it.” She ran her fingers gently over the sole of Mede’s foot, until she discovered a large rip in the skin. “Yes, there’s something still in here, let me try to get it out.” Mede nodded wordlessly, her lips pale as she tried not to cry out again. Tsuda tugged gently at the shin sliver of metal, and after a moment, it slipped free. “Just a moment, Mede, I’m going to get something to bind your foot and stop the bleeding.” Tsuda ran towards the cliffs, and Mede settled back onto the sand, trying to relax. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm her spirit, as she had learned from her father. She entered the calm depths of her soul, and felt a chilly current of fear. She dove ddeeper, following the current; she could not stem the tide of fear if she did not know from whence it originated. Mede fell deeper inward…the fear was coming from outside…from another life perhaps…
“Here, I found some kele growing up at the top of the cliffs, and I think I can get this to stop bleeding long enough to get you back to Leti. We can take care of it better then.” Mede eyes flew open to see Tsuda running back across the beach; she tied the fronds tightly around the wound, and held them in place untilt he bleeding stopped. “There, that will do, I think. Here, you hang on to this so that the healer can see it. It may be important.” Tsuda thrust the bit of metal into Mede’s hand, and she once again felt the tingle of fear. She shooked her head slightly, and draped her arm around Tsuda’s shoulders, and together they made their way slowly into Leti.

The healer prodded the foot gently, cleaning away the remaining sand and kele fibers that had stuck to the wound. “I think this will not do any permanent harm. The metal missed the tendons, so it should heal quickly. But I think you should stay off your feet for at least a week, child,” he added, glancing up at Mede. She nodded, color beginning to return to her face.
“Is there anything I can do to help her get well, Me Kio?” Tsuda asked.
“Well, the best thing to do is to take some herkil leaves and boil them under the water turns green. Then, soak some cloth in the water, and apply them—hot, but not boiling—to the foot. This should reduce the risk of fever. Other than that, the only thing we can do is wait for the foot to heal.” Kio carefully dried the wound with a clean cloth, and straightened up. “Now, may I see that bit of metal again? I think I may know what it is.”
Mede held out the sliver of metal, and Kio examined it carefully. It was no longer than an inch, but wickedly barbed. “Yes, I thought perhaps so,” Kio muttered. “We see these every once in a while. I doubt that either of you know much about the war of the Astaldi?”
“Only a few stories,” Tsuda admitted.
“Well, then, let me give you a little background. You know, of course, of the warrior priests who live in the northern sea, on the other side of the world? Yes, of course you do; well, then you know that they take tribute from us every year, and we are merely a fiefdom of their lands. Fortunately for us, they do not care what we do as long as we provide tribute.” He sighed. “Or at least, that was the way of things, until about a hundred years ago. Men and women of many of our islands began to believe that the priests were wrong in their teachings about the soul. The Astaldi began to believe that the soul is transitory, that it disentigrates upon death and is reabsorbed into the universal soul. The body was what set humans apart, they believed, and we had more in common with the deshas than with the gods. They began to spread their ideas through the Astaldak lands, and the priests’ influence waned. So, they and their allies attacked the Astaldi, and wiped them from the face of Ersada. These lands were brought under stricter control and tribute demanded.” Kio held up the barbed splinter of metal. “I believe this is a broken arrowhead from the Temaltans’ weapons. They seem to be washed up by the sea occasionally.” He sighed. “The Astaldi never had a chance. Our life here is easy, and we are not a warlike people. The Temaltans train from their birth for war. There was no hope.”
He seemed almost in a trance as he spoke, and Tsuda looked at the healer with wide eyes. He shook his head slightly, and turned to her. “Please, do not tell anyone that I told you any of this. The Temaltans do not like it to be talked of, and you know the penalties for heresy.”
Mede nodded sleepily; the pain and exertion had tired her. Tsuda noticed, and rubbed her shoulder consolingly. “It’s time to get you home; do you think you can walk, or shall I find someone to carry you?”
“No, I can walk, but you’ll have to come with me. I don’t think I can get very far on my own.”

21ish

2007-11-11T23:38:00.001-08:00

Nephan’s eyes snapped open as Veren’s last breath slipped away, and cursed. “Again? How does she escape me again?” He sat up, quickly unplugging the hundreds of small wires that ran into his body.
Wincing, he got up. He felt more sore than usual,and was in no mood for it. He found he was also not in the mood for the voice that echoed in his mind almost upon waking. “Master Nephan, are you back?”
“Yes, I am back. But I am going again as soon as possible. I will take a few hours to prepare myself, and then I will find her again and this time I will take her!”
Celek’s voice was hesitant. “Master Nephan, I don’t think I can have the machine reset and restocked in less than a day. It’s highly overdue for an internal cleaning and—“
Nephan stalked through the door to the main chamber without bothering to put on his robe. “I do not believe that I asked you. I am going back in a few hours, and you will have the machine ready. I find it difficult to believe that even an interface as new to the job as you are would presume to tell me how to run my own machine.”
“I beg your pardon, Master Nephan, but I am not as new to this as you seem to think. I have now run this machine for more than a hundred years. You have only been here for three days in all that time, so I understand that I am still unfamiliar to you, but I am not incapable nor am I inept.”
Nephan paused, then turned and walked quietly over to the wall where the telepath lay hooked into the machine. “And you dare to speak against me? I have told you what to do, and I am not in the habit of repeating myself to anyone, let alone my own interface. Very well, if you will not be of use here, let us see if I can find another use for you.” He pried open the eyelids of the man in the machine, and gazed into their blue depths. “Hmmm….very interesting….Ah! There we are. It would appear that you happened to be a member of that ill-fated resistance during the second telepath wars, a lifetime or so ago. I shall never understand why the Technologers don’t screen previous life memories when they install interfaces.”

He stepped back, and pressed his thumb against a small lit panel; the blue lights of the machine flickered, then changed to green, indicating a manual override of the communications system. Nephan hit another button and spoke clearly. “This is Nephan, Adept of the Second Order of the Historians Guild. My interface is incompatible with my needs; please send another one.”
The eyelids of the blue-eyed telepath twitched, as if he were trying to wake, but his eyes remained closed.
“It would appear that your previous experiences are more valuable than the skills of your current life, Celek. As you no doubt know, I did not bring any consciousness back with me, but Temle help me, I will not go before the Council empty handed!”

In a matter of hours, adepts of the Technologer’s Guild were in Nephan’s quarters. The lights of the room flickered as one of he adepts ran the machine manually; the other blue-robed men carefully extricated Celek from the wall panel that had been his bed for a hundred years. The space was empty for less than two minutes, as another telepath was carefully hooked up to the machine. He seemed asleep, mind suspended in the constant near-dream state that made the transmission of information so much easier. One of the Technologists carefully slipped a needle into the vein that ran down the telepath’s temple, and started a steady drip of green liquid into it, ensuring that the telepath would never wake while hooked into the machine.
Celek stirred faintly, and one of the Technologists moved towards him. “Leave him,” Nephan instructed.
“But we have procedures to follow, for the safe disposal of the unit. It cannot be imprinted onto another machine.”

“I know that, but I have use for him. Give me a few moments, and then you can dispose of it however you would like.”

The Historian knelt down beside the pale body of the man, and placed his fingertips at telepath’s temples. Silver light flickered around his hands, then steadied, and formed a glowing sphere enclosing Celek’s head and Nephan’s hands. A faint humming sound filled the air. Suddenly, Celek’s eyes flew open, and he opened his mouth in a noiseless scream. His arms and legs twitched but the muscles had atrophied from the years in the machine, and were too weak to do more than gesture faintly. The life in the blue eyes faded, and went out; the green eyes of the Historian glowed brighter and brighter. He rose form the still body, and turned to the Technologists. “I am leaving for the Guild Hall. Please see to it that I have a working machine when I return.”

The Guild Hall was quiet as he strode down the corridor to the Recording Room. As he opened the cold metal door, two recorders looked up expectantly.
“Ah, Adept Nephan, how good of you to visit us. I see that you have someone for us, correct?”

Nehpan nodded. “I do indeed. I admit, it is not the one I sought, but it will do for now.”

One of the Recorders held out a large clear stone, and Nephan touched his fingertips to it. The silver sphere flickered into existence again; the small stone began to spin, slowly at first, and then faster until it was little more than a blur. Nehpan could feel Celek’s consciousness leaving him, clutching his own, being forced into the stone. Finally, the last shred of consciousness was encased in the stone, which was now a bright blue, and faceted.

“Ah, another blue one. It’s not a particularly interesting one, see, it only made eight faces in the stone. Our better ones all have at least twelve faces, and most of those that the Councilors have brought back have twenty. I think we even have a hundred-sided stone in here somewhere,” the Recorder mused. “But it’s still something. I take it there’s at least one lifetime that may be of interest?”

The Historian nodded, turning towards the door. “Yes, it should be the second one back from time of crystallization. Something about the second telepath war, I believe.” And with a final hiss of robes against the stone, he was gone.

“He must be getting desperate,” said one of the Recorders as he polished the stone, and set it into the machine. “I don’t think he’s brought back anyone like this since he attained Second Order.”

The other Recorder nodded. “Yes, that sounds about right. Well, we can use just about anything, and the Tracers are always happy to get more information. Let’s see what we have here.”

He fitted the stone between two prongs of metal that were connected to the machine just above the telepath’s head. A beam of light struck the stone, and it glowed brightly. The telepath’s eyes twitched for a moment, then the room faded from the Recorders sight; the events recorded in the stone would be projected by the telepath directly into their awareness. In a few moments, the events of Celek’s life had flashed before the eyes of the Recorders and duly noted in their records. The Tracers, down the hall, felt the new images and events flash through their minds in the steady flow of information that the Guild produced.

Celek’s consciousness was little more than a data file to be accessed, played, and replayed. He screamed every time he saw himself die.

an apology

2007-11-11T23:36:00.000-08:00

Yes, I know, I just killed off most of my characters. Very violently. I'm sorry about that. But it will all be redeemed, I promise.

20ish

2007-11-11T23:35:00.000-08:00

Zula opened her eyes slowly, and face herself lying on her bed, with the curtains drawn. She sat up slowly, and parted the tapestries. A serving woman that she had seen a few times in the villages sat near the bed, clumsily stitiching up a tear in a coarse robe. “Oh, you’re awake! Are you feeling better? They said that you would feel much better once the enchantment was broken…or don’t you remember any of that? I was never clear on how that worked, but it’s over now and your husband should be home today or tomorrow, or so they say in the village.”
The woman’s endless chatter echoed in her head, and Zula wished she would be still for a moment.

A ginger-haired woman sitting in the corner skillfully sewing a new chali

Light on skin that shone like alabaster

The hem of a robe sweeping along stones in a garden

Flowers blooming white, changing to blood-red blossoms

Zula bent over and was sick. The servant woman squawked, and ran to fetch rags and water, trailing an endless stream of chatter behind her. Zula lay back in the bed, and sobbed.
As the woman re-entered the room, Zula weakly reached out towards her.
“Please…my baby…where have they taken her?”
“Your baby was a hadji, mistress; the evil thing was switched with your child before it was even born.” She made disapproving clucking sounds, and made to pick up her sewing again, but Zu;la gripped her arm tightly, and would not let go. “What have they done with her? Where is Mado?”
The woman tried her best to pull away, saying, “I do not know, they took the hadji to the desert two days ago when they went to spread the witch’s bones over the sand, that is all I know! Please, mistress, you must rest, or you will be ill again! My master will not forgive if harm comes to you before he arrives.”
Zula staggered to her feet, and ran down the hallway before the stunned woman could react. She stumbled through her garden, and unlocked the gate that opened onto the open desert. She did not bother to close the gate; marauders could burn the entire house for all she cared. Her eyes scanned the horizon, seeking any sign of a small form, but it was empty.

The sun burned brightly overhead, and the sand scorched Zula’s bare feet, but she took no notice. She had stumbled across a faint trace of hoofprints; it looked as though several deshas might have passed this way recently, and having no better clues, she took that path deeper into the desert.

Zula forced her aching feet to carry her to the top of the next dune. She had taken several bad falls, and her ankles were weakened from walking in sand for so many hours. She finally reached the crest of the dune, and saw Lotha thrust the edge of her gleaming disc over the rim of the world. Everything for miles was bathed in cold blue light, and beside a rocky outcropping, Zula saw a flash of almost pure white.
With a hoarse cry, she stumbled forward, slipping and sliding down the far face of the dune; when she came to the rock, she saw little Mado; her tender lips were dry and cracked, and her forehead burned with fever, but she was still alive. Zula scooped her up and held her close, relishing every beat of her little heart. Whispering nonsense that she knew her daughter could not hear, Zula kissed her face again and again as she turned and headed back towards the village.

As dawn came, Zula could hear the first stirrings in the village. It took most of her willpower to continue to put one foot ahead of the other, but she slowly came to the edge of the village. There she met with a sight that sent chills into her very heart, despite the heat of the rising sun. The elders, and other younger men of the village, stood barring her entrance.

“You cannot bring the evil thing into Kemal. You are welcome to come home and take up your household again, but the hadji may not re-enter this gate.” The man who spoke was old enough to be her father; his grey beard fell halfway down his chest, and his voice rasped with the years.

“She is my child,” Zula whispered. “You would deny her entrance to her birth place? She is no evil spirit; you all know her, your children have played in the streets with her. Has any harm ever come to you through us?”

“Who knows what harm may come to us through her if she passes through these gates?”

“Please…” Zula begged, falling to her knees. “Please, she is just a child. I must save her, and there is still time, if she drinks some water and eats a little food. Her heartbeat flutters, but it is not yet stilled. There is still time..” Her eyes searched the line of men for some flicker of mercy, but there was none, save for herself: a poor deluded woman, clinging to an evil thing that had bewitched her.

A sudden anger welled up inside her, and she let out a shriek like a wildcat. She ran at the line of men, shielding Mado’s body with her arms, and tried to push through, but was thrown backwards onto the sand.

The sun rose, and still Zula plead. She wept, she begged, she kissed the very feet of the men who barred her way, but they would not move. She tried walking around the village, but they moved ahead of her and guarded every entrance before she reached it.

“Zula!” A voice roared, and she saw one of the men in the back of the crowd fall. Mushad came storming through, fighting like a lion. “They cannot do this!” The men turned to see what was happening, and Zula darted like a cat between them. She actually felt the pavement beneath her foot when she was knocked backwards into the sand. Wiping the sand from her eyes, she looked up to see the green eyes and black hair of Veren, the warrior priest.

Green eyes and back hair in the moonlit garden

A blaze of eyes in the shadows of the temple

The cracking sound of rock shattering a skull

Blood spilling on sand

Lights flickering over the polished stone.

This was her, he knew; her eyes shone brightly purple in the morning sun, and it only took a few moments of looking within to see that this was the soul that had escaped. Veren took a quick step forward, and raised his hands. Silver light flickered between his fingertips, and he touched her temples.
Then a burning pain shot deep into his side, and he fell to his knees. Gasping for breath, he felt a knife pull free from his ribs, and looked behind him to see Mushad pushing forward to clear a way for Zula and Mado. Veren could feel the blood seeping into his lung, and coughed violently. He spat blood onto the ground, and lunged for Mushad’s leg, grabbing the ankle and holding tight. With his other hand, he slipped the knife from his belt; when Mushad fell, Veren threw himself upon the larger man, and stabbed wildly. Mushad dodged the first blow, and struck Veren’s arm aside, knocking him back. Veren could feel the pressure building in his lungs as they filled with blood, and struck one final time.
The knife plunged deep into Mushad’s neck, and blood spurted hot onto the sand. Mushad clutched vainly at his throat as crimson streams slipped between his fingers. As his body began shaking, he stretched out a trembling hand to Zula; she clasped his rough fingers tightly, and kissed his hand. There was nothing to be said, and no time to say it in; his eyes grew glassy and his breath shuddered to a halt.
Veren collapsed into the sand, a hideous gurgling escaping from his throat. He rolled onto his back, gasping, and scanned the eyes of the crowd. There was no time to call for the other priests, and nothing that they could do. His eyes rolled back, and he choked out a final breath, and lay still.
Zula still knelt in the sand and the spilled blood, weeping. Mado’s heart was slowing, she could feel her life draining away, and still the elders would not move; they had regrouped quickly after Mushad’s doomed charge.
“Please…just give us water and we will go elsewhere. But do not let my daughter die! Please, we will never set foot here again, just give me water for her!” She wept copiously, and caught as many of the drops as possible on her fingertips, gently slipping them between her daughter’s lips, but still the heartbeat faded. Finally, as the sun hovered directly above, the small heart flickered, thumped one final time, and ceased.
Zula lay the little body on the sand without a word and stood. She scanned the faces of the men, and spoke quietly. “In my house there is a little jar of scented oil, in the chest by the foot of my bed. Bring it to me.” There was a short pause, then one of the younger man turned and went to fetch it. He returned a short time later, and carefully handed it to her. Zula took the painted jar without a word, and knelt beside her husband, anointing his thick black hair with the oil, and kissing his cold lips for the last time. Sh then turned to her daughter’s body. Singing softly, she rubbed the oil into the skin that was beginning to turn blue, and used her fingers to comb the scent through the white hair, brushing out the sand where possible. Then, she folded the tiny hands across the heart that had so recently ceased, and stood, still clutching the container of oil.
“Let her body remain as a reproach to all in this town. You see that she does not fade, as you said a spirit would. You would not welcome her in life, and you will never be rid of her in death.”
A few of the men stepped back so that she could enter the village, but she turned again towards the desert. She gently loosened the chali that held her hair back, and it tumbled down around her waist in thick black waves, which were tossed by the breeze that blew in from over the sands.

She did not look back as she crossed the dunes, and the last that was seen of Zula, wife of Mushad, mother of Mado, was a wavering silhouette against the pale sky as she stood at the top of a dune for a few moments.

“Keld and his men then saw a strange sight in the desert sands. There lay two skeletons, bleached pure white by the sun. One was laid out neatly though the skull had been severed from the spine; the hands were clasped over the breast, and a few wisps of pale hair still clung to the skull. The second skeleton was curled at the other’s feet, and the bony fingers clasped the shards of a painted jar.”
-----------------------Mysteries of the Kedonese Deserts, by Roshak Gela, YE 29876

19ish

2007-11-11T23:34:00.000-08:00

when the night fell, Mado fell asleep quickly, exhausted from the day's events. Zula sat in the garden, unable to sleep as the moons rose higher in the sky. There was a tightness in her throat that nothing would ease; every time she entered her room and say Madak's mat on the floor, she thought that her heart would break in two.
"Why?" she whispered to herself, closing her eyes. "Why could i not stay with her? They will come for Mado anyway, and I might have stayed with Madak and spared them the trouble of coming to find us." She bent forward and rest her forehead against her knees, wishing for everything to be the way it had been in the morning.
-----------------------

Madak huddled against the floor of the metal cage that she had been pushed into. She wasn't sure what animal had occupied it previously, but it had not been a clean one. The priests had been prevailed upon to have a trial, so that all might feel easy in their consciences that they had not condemned an innocent woman. She had no hope that she would survive, but at least she had been permitted this one night to prepare her soul for its flight into the next life. She had said her prayers, and was now simply resting, waiting, watching the twin moons move across the sky, bathing the market plaza with their light.

The priests had established a watch around the cage, and those not on duty slept silently on the hard stones. Two priests were awake, the one on guard and the leader of the troop. He had been the one who had shoved her into the cage, and as he slammed the door shut, he stared into her eyes, as if looking for something. He had drawn back slightly in surprise, then slammed the door shut and locked it.

Now he paced restlessly outside the cage, his boots clattering on the stone. Veren's mind raced--if the Selidian witch was not the one he needed, it must be the child, but she and the mother had disappeared in the crowd when he caught the witch. It would not be difficult to take them later: he knew where their house was, and doubted that would flee into the desert during the night. Still he would feel better once he knew for sure, and was standing in the council hall with her consciousness in his hand. nothing could be assured until that moment.

As his footsteps rang out across the plaza, Zula crouched hidden in the shadows of one of the empty stalls. The moonlight was still bright, but the moons were behind her, and she did not think that th priest would see. She wondered how she could alert Madak to her presence, but at that moment, her friend turned and looked directly at her. Madak's face was in shadow, but the moons lit her hair from behind like a halo, and she gazed at Zula silently.

Zula began to scramble out of the shadows, but Madak held up a hand and shook her head. Zula paused; the priest on guard walked in front of her hiding place, and began another circuit of the plaza. There was no way to get from the shadow of the shop to the cage in the middle of the square without being seen. Zu;a's heart ached, and she knelt on the hard pavement. Linking her eyes with those of her friend again, she began her vigil.

Seeing Zula was almost enough to break Madak's resolve to show no emotion before the Temaltans. It took every last bit of her training to not break down into tears, but she held firm. The night passed slowly, and Zula never moved, and Madak never took her eyes off of her. The moons sank, Lede first, then Lotha, and the darkness fell completely, but the stars sitll shone above. Madak thought she could feel them watching over her, waiting for her to join them. Not after this life, perhaps; her soul was still too earthly and had not sprouted wings, but someday. She prayed, quietly, that she might be allowed to return, and continue growing in the soul's knowledge. She saw the faint starlight glint momentarily off Zula's eyes as she blinked, and almost without thinking, added a prayer that she might be able to help Zula again.

The sky lightened, and Zula still knelt, knees aching, on the cold stone. The priests all rose, and began their daily ablutions, scrubbing their bodies with sand until the skin was red and raw. They suddenly reminded Madak of the winged eels she had seen on the massive sandbars that rose from the southern seas; their robes fluttered in the early morning wind like the leathery wings of the eels, and their quick movements somehow seemed similar.

The sun rose in a blaze of light, and the sand burned brightly. The plaza filled with spectators, and Zula stood to mingle with the crowd. Many of the small children gathered around Madak's cage to taunt her, but she took no notice. As the sun rose, she knelt, and began to say her prayers to Suk, great god of the sun, and she let nothing distract her.

When the sun was above the tops of the buildings, the elders of the town gathered, and the trial was ready to begin.

The elders were seated on small stools at the center of the plaza; ont he other side of the cage stood all but one of the priests. As the elders acknowledged them, they bowed in unison and drew small knives from their belts. Each man pushed back his sleeve, and drew the knife across his forearm,

They raised their arms, and let the blood drip onto the sand; from where each man's blood fell, a rajik arose, shining and amorphous for a moment, then solidifing into a physical manifestation. The beasts growled, baring their teeth, and a child began to cry.

"It is begun," intoned Veren, stepping forward. "May the divine one chain our souls for a thousand lifetimes if we do not judge fairly today." The other priests repeated the oath, and the elders after them.

Veren leaned down and unlocked the cage door. Madak crawled out, and carefully stood up. She had been flexing her legs for the last few minutes, not wanting to stumble and appear weak when she stood before them. Her head was held high, and her eyes had a determined glint.

“You stand here, accused of witchcraft and necromancy. If you are found guilty of these charges, you will suffer the customary penalty: death by beheading. Your body will be left in the desert for the wild animals to strip, and your bones will bleach in the sun. Do you understand this?”

Her voice was quiet but strong, and it did not waver. “I understand.”

“Very well.” He turned to the elders and his fellows priests. “Three years ago, when my comrades and I were first in this village, I was walking about the desert one morning. A strange scent wafted by, and I followed it. I saw this woman in a garden, burning herbs and burying the ashes. I knew the plant; it is common enough, but few know of its uses in magic. She buried the ashes of the plant, as well as the trappings that the herbs had been wrapped in; I believe she intended to cover all traces of her trickery. But such a thing cannot be hidden forever.”

He began to pace again; his quick steps scattered sand across the stone, and grated on the pavement.

“Shortly after these devious rites, a child was born to the household. On the morning of its birth, she could once again be found in the garden. This time there were no herbs, but a song. A song in an ancient tongue, known in full only to a race of ancient witches. Even now, your poets still tell the stories of Suktis, the land of the witches that was destroyed by the mercy of the gods, to protect the rest of the world from their evil. This song is common among the witches we have found, and we have found none other who ever knew it.”

Veren raised a hand toward the edge of the plaza, and the crowd parted to allow the final priest to pass through to the center. He bore Mado in his arms, and Zula let out a strangled cry. At a glance from Veren, two of the other priests stepped forward and caught her as she ran to her child, and held her back.

“And here is the result of these secret labors. A thing in the form of a child, that bears the white hair of the witch-lords of Suktis. The witch has summoned what you call a hadji, a vengeful water-spirit. A soul of a witch, taken from the island that now lies under the sea, and joined it with matter, to create this thing.” Mado whimpered, and tried to hide her face in the priest’s robes, but he held her out to Veren.

The green-eyed man took her, and looked deeply into her eyes. He was surprised to see eyes of brown that looked back fearfully at him; he had expected the brilliant purple of her race, but it was no matter. He could see that she was a young soul, only on her first life, and not the one he sought.

“Here is the proof of this woman’s treachery. Now let us hear from her own lips what kind of defense she can give.” He stepped back into the line of priests, and handed Mado to another priest.

Madak stood silent for a moment, collecting her thoughts. There is no hope that they will let me live after this, she thought, but I intend to give a good account of myself.

“All in this village know that I am not from these lands. I have made no secret of the fact that I was picked up by a merchant ship while I floated adrift in the northern seas. I made this land my home, and have faithfully served my master and his wife these past years. They have, I trust, no words to condemn me, and I have done nothing to harm them or anyone else in this land.”

“Fine words,” Veren shouted, “but what have you to answer? The herbs, witch, the song, and the child. Explain them.”

“The herbs are simple enough. My mistress had a fever that threatened her life, and the life of her unborn child. I knew that herkil could be used against fever, and did so. I burned the remnants of the herbs because I knew that knowledge that is not common to all is often misnamed as witchcraft, or trickery.
“The song is one I learned as a child; I have always thought it pretty, and it tends to come to mind when I am happy. When should I be more happy than at the birth of my mistress’ child?
“As for the child herself, I have no answer because I had nothing to do with it. Children are often born with traits that seem to come from neither parent, and these are not normally associated with witchcraft. Neither is this one.”

One of the elders spoke this time, voice harsh and grating. “You say that you learned the song as child, but where were you born? Who taught you? These are still not answered.”

Madak held her chin high, and spoke calmly. “I was raised in one of the temples in the Selidian islands. I serve the Five Holy Gods and the Sacred Twins. Above all, I serve the great god Suk, whose ship is the sun. These priests would have you believe that this flesh is a shell, a trap, something to be shed as evil. But my people know, and have always known, that the flesh is a gift. You yourselves know it to be so, when you suckle a child, taste the spiciness of the gidics, or feel the sudden cool breeze that heralds the coming of the evening.”

She turned to face the priests, and her voice rose. “You say that this world is a trick of Servak, and that we are to shed every possible earthy affection and desire. But you lie, or you have been lied to. In the oldest stories, it is told that Suk created the world, but Servak had no effect on it, until he was able to sway a man’s soul. It was only then that his desires were unharnessed and his soul began to be pulled in all directions. It is not your body that you must shed to free your soul, but the wickedness of the soul itself must be rooted out. My soul is ready for death; I have spent many years ridding it of hatred, anger, selfishness, and fear. I will take wings and fly into a new life and time, where you cannot reach me.” Her voice, formerly quiet, had slowly increased in volume until her last words rang across the courtyard, and all present could hear them. She stood as tall and straight as Zula had seen her that evening in the garden, and her hair shone like flames.
Veren’s hand struck her full across the face, but she did not fall. She turned towards him, eyes blazng with strength, and stared at him in silence. She had said all she would say, and would say no more.
One of the elders rose to his feet, and shouted, “So you admit to worshipping with forbidden rites? We have heard it from your own mouth. And all your fancy words would not blind us to the sight of this spirit that you have summoned to dwell inside this child’s body.”
The elders conferred amongst each other for a moment, then turned to Veren. “We assume that you and your countrymen are in agreement as to what must be done?” Veren bowed slightly, and assured them that it was so.
“Very well, then.” One of the elders stepped forward. “We believe that she is a witch, and has brought an evil spirit among us. To preserve us, our families, and our crops, the witch must die. The hadji must be destroyed; it is our custom to take such things out a day’s journey into the desert, where they soon loose power and fade away.” He paused, and cast an eye towards Zula, who had gone limp at this pronouncement upon her daughter’s life. “However, we believe the mother and father of the hadji to have been deceived, and believe that they should not be punished. Their enchantment should break when the witch’s bones are spread out on the desert floor.”
“We are in agreement then,” Veren responded, bowing again. “Let us waste no time in breaking the witch’s spells, for much damage may have been done these three years.”

A cheer went up from the villagers, and Madak was made to kneel on the pavement. Veren stood over her, and drew his sword.

“No!” Zula screamed, but one of the priests holding her removed his leather glove, and jammed it into her mouth to silence her, and all that escaped was a low groan.

Madak turned for a moment to look at her friend, and smiled. “Let your wings grow, Zula. We will meet again.” Then she turned her face away, and let her hair flow loosely around her. As it blew freely in the wind, she began to sing:

“It is with joy that I have lived,
And my heart is light as I go,
I have loved much and loved well,
And we will meet yet here below.”

Veren raised his sword to strike the fatal blow, but Madak’s pure, clear voice continued.

“Until our souls take flight above
And go to dwell among the stars,”

The short blade whistled downward.

“With many loves held therein
And a million sunsets in our—“

Zula screamed again, and tears streamed down her face. A few wisps of ginger hair mixed with the sand that swept to and fro across the pavement.

18ish

2007-11-11T23:33:00.002-08:00

The streets were crowded as Madak and Zula made their way to the market. Mado's hair was covreed with a swatch of cloth and tightly pinned, so that none of the two-year-old's best efforts could dislodge it. Nost trailed a little behind them, carrying the large woven basket which would hold the day's purchases.

Madak held Mado tightly, balancing the child on her hip as they walked through the streets.

"Mama, mama, want down!" Mado began to squirm, pointing down at the dusty road. "Want down, want down!" Madak looked at Zula, who nodded, then gently let Mado slip to the ground. The child gigglged and began to run in circles around the two women, who were walking at a more sedate pace.
"Stay close, Mado. I don't want you running off and getting lost," Zula called out.
They entered the main plaza, and Zula turned to go to the basket weaver's shop. Some of the larger household baskets had begun to wear thin, and she wanted to get some new ones.
"Ved," said Zula, careful to use her friend's pseudonym in public, "will you go and see about buying the bread? I trust your judgement, and I may be here for a while."
Madak nodded, and made her way across the stone plaza. The sand whispered across the stones in jagged lines, undulating in the morning sun. The smell of the bread wafted out across the open space as Madak walked up to the shaded tent. "Good morning, Ved. How are things with your mistress' household today? " The baker smiled warmly, as he stacked circles of soft flat bread.
The housekeeper smiled, as she began selecting various breads for the household meals. "They are well, thank you."
"And little Mado? I think I see her chasing birds in the plaza out there..."
Madak laughed, and nodded. "A handful, as always, but good natured. She rarely cries, and never holds a grudge, which is more than I can say for many children. I do not think I ever saw one so ready to be friends with everyone."

A few minutes later, basket laden with fresh loaves, Madak crossed the plaza again in search of Zula. Two small shapes darted across the pavement in front of her; one was Mado, giggling madly and pursuing her was a small boy with ragged black hair. As they dashed across her path, Madak saw the boy grab for Mado. Missing her shoulder, his hand gripped the fabric of her head scarf. Mado pulled away, and the cloth fell away. Her golden white hair flashed in the sun, and Madak's heart skipped a beat.

"Mado!" she hissed, not wanting to attract attention. "Mado, come back here!" She walked rapidly after the girl, but was forced to break into a run to keep up. She nearly ran into a tall man in her haste to catch Mado, and apologized profusely before ducking around him.
She caught a glimpse of bright hair in the crowd ahead, and sprinted through a small knot of chattering servants. She saw Mado at the edge of the plaza, about to turn and make a circuit in front of the houses that lined the street. The bread basket fell to the ground as Madak lunged for Mado, and finally caught her. She quickly grabbed the scarf from the sweaty grasp of the little boy who had pulled it off, and with a quick twist had Mado's hair covered.
As her heart pounded against her ribs, she saw a pair of black boots standing on the pavement in front of the spot where she knelt. Madak instinctively pulled Mado close, and looked up.
The hem of the black robes of the priest whipped around the leather boots, brushing away the sand that clung to them. Her eyes traveled upward over the wiry frame; a thick leather belt cinched his robes around his waist, and he wore a battered scabbard that housed a short sword. His pale skin was reddened from exposure to the sun, and his eyes blazed into hers.
She drew back, and grabbed the fallen basket of bread with her free hand, clutching Mado close with the other. At the sight of the priest, the child had fillen silent, and clung to the housekeeper. Madak bowed hastily, very conscious of her bright hair and pale skin that marked her as a foreigner in this land. She sprinted across the plaza, and quickly found Zula coming out of the basket-weaver's shop. She hurriedly thrust Mado into her mother's arms, and whispered hoarsely, "The priest is back, and I do not think that he is alone. Mado's scarf fell away as she played, and I am afraid that he saw it." Zula tensed, and turned to go back to the house. Madak followed closely behind, and they had almost entered the street that would take them away from the market when a shout rang out.
"Stop! There is a witch among you!" The clamour of the marketplace dwindled away to little more than the sounds of the pack animals, and the whistling of the wind and sand. Zula nd Madak continued toward the street, but stopped as two black-robed figures blocked the way.
Veren stepped into the middle of the plaza, the metal studs on the soles of his boots ringing on the flagstones. "This witch has summoned a dead spirit, a haji, to come and dwell among you. If the haji is not destroyed, it will ruin your crops, and dry up your wells." A gasp went up from the crowd and several mothers held their children closer. Veren continued, his eyes roaming around the plaza. "This witch practices her evil arts by night, and has enssnared you so that you cannot even see her for what she is. We cannot tolerate such a creature to live anywhere in our lands."
As the two priests closed in on them, Madak and Zula backed towards the crowd in the plaza again. Madak grabbed Zula's arm, and whispered again: "There is nothing to be done now. Leave me here, and get away. They may yet leave you in peace."
"Never," Zula whispered back. "You are my friend, and I will not stand silently by. I know that you are no witch, and you saved my daughter's life with your knowledge. I will not leave you."
But Madak pushed her away, and flung herself towards the priests in what seemed a desperate attempt to escape. One of the priests struck her a blow to the head with a leather-gloved fist, and she fell to the pavement. The other grabbed a fistfull of her hair, and her upper arm, and jerked her to her feet. They hustled her forward through the crowd and unceremoniously dumped her to the ground in the center of the plaza.
"I have observed her burning the remnants of a spell, cast three years ago. I have heard, with my own ears, this woman sing a song of the witches of the Selides. Does she have the dark eyes of Kedon? Or the brown hair of Ersa? Or even the dark skin of the Astaldak? No! And she has brought the evil spirit among you, in the form of a child."
Zula's heart stopped, as she realized what would now happen. The priests thought that Mado was an evil spirit in human form; they would take her, and nothing she could say would stop them. Mushad, she thought, if only he were home...He might be able to stop them.
She turned, and ran down the now-empty street towards her house, squeezing Mado tightly to her breast. Behind her, she could hear the dull thud of the blows that the priests were raining down on Madak.

17ish

2007-11-11T23:33:00.001-08:00

The seas were cold as the boat carrying the priests tossed on the northern seas. It was winter here, and the trip from summery Kedon had not been a smooth one. Veren had argued that they stay, and maintain a watch on the village of Kemal, but Reth had over-ruled him, and loaded the boats for home.

The rajik had been rejoined with the priests, to make room on the boats; Veren thought of summoning his spirit-familiar from inside him, but decided against it.. It he rebelled much more on this journey, he might not be allowed to return. He could feel the wolfish spirit stir restlessly, and closed his eyes. The cold did not bother him, and his eyelashes were rimed with frost.

"Come men, a storm is brewing, and we will need all hands at the sails. Up, now, and to work!" Veren heaved himself to his feet at Reth's words, and grabbed a line.

The sea roared and foamed, snowflakes beginning to hiss into the brine. Reth shouted again, and began a temple chant. It was wordless and eerie, and seemed to match the rising wind. The other joined in one by one, and the boat rose on the wave crests and crashed into the troughs. As the chant reached its peak, one of the younger priests stood and, clinging to the mast, began to sing ancient words:

"Let us now shed this empty shell
And plunge into the waters of spirit
Whem we shall have pure hearts
In the land where no shadows lie

Guide us into the morning light
Free us from these bounds of clay
Bring our spirits up from the earth
Into the land were no shadows lie."

The words were strong, and the tune wild and sad, and the boat tossed through the snow-filled air, forward into the northern night.
--------------------

The ship landed safely near dawn, and the priests unloaded their cargo in the early morning light. Afterward, many of the younger ones made their way towards the women's island, but Veren had long since eradicated all trace of physical desire from his body. He could hardly look upon a woman without despising her body, her movements, her capacity for seduction. He had spawned the child required of him. After all, the numbers of the priesthood must be maintained until the face of Ersada was scrubbed clean of all but spirit.
He strode quickly up the street of rough-hewn stone, boots clattering on the frozen surface. A few servants were milling around, going about their duties, and they quickly scattered to either side of the pathway. They were a diverse lot; some had the round faces and brown hair of the Ersans, others had the deep brown skin and honey-colored hair of those from the Astaldak islands, and many had the black hair and fine features of the Kedonese. Their diversity was in marked contrast to the priests, who had skin almost as pale as the snow, hair a dull black like the sea at night, and eyes of a brilliant green.

The path lead steeply upward to the top of the rocky hill. At the crest of the hill, a space was cleared, and stone tiled covered the ground to make a floor, and three priests were already standing in their places. Veren advanced slowly, then dropped to his knees and lay prone on the cold stones.

“You may rise, Veren.” The words were half-lost in the wind that whipped across the hill, but Veren had been trained to respond to small details, and he rose to his feet.

“Where is Reth? He was the leader of the voyage, it is his place to make the report.”

“He was delayed in unloading the boats. I am fully capable of making the report.”

The elder priest smirked slightly. “It is not your capability that we are calling into question, Veren, but your authority to do so.”

Veren colored slightly, but restrained his emotions, and bowed. He turned on his heel, and began to retrace his steps when the elder called him back. “Stay, Veren. You must not be so quick to let emotion master you. You take great pride in being impassive to emotions of desire, love, or hunger, but you are still easily provoked by anger. It binds you to this earth, and you must learn to release it.”

Veren bowed again, the fire of his eyes dimming slightly. “I live only to purge this world, master Huil.”

Huil nodded, and spoke the ancient blessing over his bent form: “May He who is spirit alone keep you in his paths, and release you from your bonds when your work is done.”

Veren straightened up, and looked at Huil, a question in his proud eyes. Huil replied, “Yes, Veren, stay. Give us your report, and we will take it into consideration. Reth can give us a fuller report later.”

Again Veren bowed, then began. “We set out eastward from these shores, as you know.While passing through the seas that cover dead Suktis, we came across a boat of Selidian witches performing their rites over the waters. After a short battle, we released the spirits of all aboard, and sank the boat into the depths. We sailed over the seas for three months before we landed on the shores of Kedon. Knowing that our fellow priests were residing in Perzelsis, we decided to visit other parts of the land. We landed on the eastern shore, and docked the boat. We found a dockmaser who agreed to our terms for storing the boat, and left it in his care. We made our way slowly along the eastern shore, heading south. The villagers detained us in each town along the way, asking for judgement on small legal matters. The Kedonese religion is still as barbaric as it ever was, though it seems that some small headway has been made in persuading them to worship one god instead of many. Perhaps in the end they can be brought around to the truth, but I doubt it. They are still so attached to the physical shells that there is not much hope there. They rejoice in their gardens, lands, and possessions. The women spend far too much time and money on self-adornements, and the men do little to correct them. As we made our way south, we came to a village known as Kemal. We spent a week there, camped on the outskirts of the village, and observed many things.”

Veren paused in his recitation, then continued more intensely. “I believe there to be a Selidian witch residing in Kemal. She may even have succeeded in calling down a spirit from dead Suktis to emprison it in a new shell. Her mistress fell ill with a fever, but recovered suddenly on the fourth day. On that morning, as I wandered across the dunes of the desert that stretches for miles outside the village, I saw the housekeeper burn a small packet of herbs, and caught a whiff of the smoke from the fire. It was herkila, I am sure of it. There is no mistaking that smell.”

Huil looked up with a start. “Herkila? No-one knows of its uses for fever except us, and the Selidians. Are you certain?”

Veren nodded. “There is more that eliminated all doubt in my mind. The morning that the first child was born to the mistress of the household, the maid sang while drawing water from the well in their garden. She sang the Dream of Suktis.”

“And the child? What of the child? Was she born with the markings of the Suktisian soul?” Huil’s words were quick and sharp.

“I do not know, Master Huil.”

“You do not know? How can you not know? Do you know how serious a thing this could be? Such a binding of soul and spirit could set our work because a thousand years, ten thousand if the child reaches maturity and breeds.”

The wind gusted through the clearing, sweeping snow across the clearing. The sun was beginning peek through the thick grey clouds, but only as a pale disk, soon covered by the fog again. “I would have examined the child, master, if it had been my decision. But it had already been decided to move on that day, and I could do nothing against the will of the united group.”

Huil scoffed slightly, “You could do nothing against the will of the group? I find that hard to believe, Veren. You seem determined to have your will in everything, regardless of what anyone says. But enough of this, we must consult, and decide what is to be done. We will make our judgement after we hear from Reth. If you see him, please tell him to attend us here immediately. You may go now.”

The priest prostrated himself again, lying face down in the blowing snow; then he rose and turned to go back down the path. Reth stood there, obviously on his way to see the council. The two mens’ eyes met; both paused, knowing what had transpired. Veren’s eyes glowed brightly in the gloom, assured of his victory. He would be sent back to Kemal, and would finally be able to capture the consciousness of the Suktisian priestess. Only a few more years, and he would stand again in the Council Hall fo the Historians, and be acclaimed as a counselor. Reth drew back, reading betrayal and accusation in the others’ eyes. He straightened himself, and turned to enter the circle of the Masters, determined to meet his fate.

Veren’s black robes billowed in the wind as he walked quickly towards the large stone building which housed all priests who resided on the island. At any given time, there might be up to one thousand priests on the island, and as many on each of the other islands in the cluster of islands that made up the Temaltan lands. As many as five thousand priests roamed the other lands under their control, trading goods and services, judging cases brought before them by the people, and slowly cleansing the world of its attachment to the material. The work was slow, but steady; the fall of the heretics in Suktis had quickened the process.
The path to the residence building lead out to the very edge of the cliffs the rose from the beach; he’d been told that the priests made their home here, because of the mixture of the elements. Earth, sky, and sea all met here, and fire was easily summoned. The wind blew in strongly from the sea, and he wiped a thin layer of frost from his cheeks.
The residence was a large boxy stone building built of rough stones, quarried from the nearby stone. As he strode through the entrance, five long columns of stone blocks met his eye. Nothing was laid on them at the moment, but by evening most would become the resting place of a priest or acolyte.
At the back of the building was the storehouse that held all of the clothing and supplies that were available for the priests’ use. He pulled back the heavy curtain, and examined the grizzled man who sat behind the counter.
“Hello Veren.” The man bowed slightly, his rough beard brushing the collar of his cloak. “I see you have returned. Reth just sent back the load of clothing and leathers that survived the voyage. It will probably take my boys two months to brush the sand out of them, not to mention all the salt from the ocean.”
Veren did not respond, but let his eyes roam over the rows of tall shelves stacked with black robes, cloaks, trousers, belts, sheaths, and other sundry items often used by priests when on journeys away from the island. “How quickly could you equip a force of a hundred men, Nahol?”
The other man stroked his beard thoughtfully, and tapped his fingers along the ccounter as if tallying beads. “Let’s see…belts, robes, the basics…But the food could be a problem. Theextra crops have almost been used, and it will be a difficult winter as it is. I do not think we can stock the food you need until next harvest.”
Veren’s green eyes blazed and he slammed a leather-gloved fist down on the stone counter. “And by then it will be too late in the year to set sail, and I shall have to wait until the following spring! It is too long!”
Nahol looked at him unfazed. “Control your anger, Veren. You are acting shamefully. If your journey is so important, it will be worth it to you to take the time to do the thing well, instead of dashing off at the first moment.”
Veren turned away, cursing under his breath, and ran his fingers through his hair, shaking loose a shower of dried salt and sand. “I will see what the council has to say about this.”
“Yes, actually, I think that is a very fine idea.” Nahol turned away from the counter, and went back to checking his tallies of items returned from the Kedon voyagers.

As Veren stormed out of the residence building, his anger began to cool. Perhaps Nahol was right; there would likely be no possible way to prudently set out before the following spring. The idea chafed at him, but facts were facts. He sighed, and turned his steps towards the training grounds on the far side of the priests’ grounds. There was much to be done; the summons from the council would come soon, and he would need to be prepared to present his plan to them.
As he neared the training grounds, he could hear the sounds of shouts and the clang of metal, and occaisionally the softer thump of flesh against flesh. The training ground was composed of large open areas, delineated from each other by thin rows of rocks that traced across the ground. Veren thought back to his own youthful days upon this field. He had spent over fifteen years training daily in the arts of his order; he remembered well the sight of bruises welling upon pale flesh and the color of blood suddenly spilt upon rock. On particularly cold days, one could even see the steam rising from the bare backs of the young combatants like a light fog. Today was too hazy to see any such phenomenon, but the field was full, despite the cold. Towards the back of the field he could see the youngest acolytes learning to duel with the staff; he doubted that the youngest could be older than five summers. In the middle were the boys, perhaps aged eight through twelve, before their bodies had lost the boniness of childhood and gained the muscularity that would mark their transition. The young men trained in the field nearest him, and he watched the mock battles. One team was armed with the thick staffs called gelds; the other had the short swords that were peculiar to the priests of Temalta. The swords had a thick hilt, and a round pommel, and had a deep fuller down the length of the blade. Each blade had a smaller blade that sprung from it, the space between the two blades could be used to trap an opponent’s weapon. The blades glittered in the light as the young men fought, and the staffs landed resounding blows. He knew that those in training were encouraged not to harm their companions, but a few men were lost every year. It was the price of training. When the time came for the young men to learn to land deadly blows, slaves and criminals from other lands were brought in to fight them. Ersan fighters were most prized, since Ersa was well populated, but their people were little more than savages. It did no harm to them if a few hundred of their people were released every year. The priests even did them the kindness of saying the proper blessings over the bodies so that the souls might be free, and never return to the physical realm. It was a kindness that they did not merit, Veren mused, but it was given anyway.
One of the training masters blocked a blow with his staff, and gave the offender a quick blow to the back of his legs, knocking him to his knees. The trainer looked up and caught Veren’s eyes. He raised a hand in greeting, and signaled to the other masters. In a moment, the mock battle had halted; Veren could see blood streaming from several noses, and one or two deep cuts, but no-one seemed seriously injured this time.
“Greetings, master Kaelin. It looks like you have a fine bunch of novices this year.” Veren ran an appraising eye over the crowd of bruised bodies.
“Well, they may do in time. I only have a few ready to take their vows this year, but perhaps more the next. The women have not been producing as many boys lately; we may have to bring some more of them in to boost the numbers in the nurseries. But it will do for now.”
Veren smiled, and stepped forward. “I sincerely hope so. There may be need of them.” A low murmur ran through the crowd, and Kaelin held up a hand to silence it. “Is that so? Well, I take it that nothing has been decreed by the Council yet, since I know of no pressing need, but I shall take your word for it. You can count on me; you will have as many men as you need. I have been thinking of stepping up the training a notch or two for some time now, this will give me a good chance to do so.” A light sparked in the training master’s eyes, and he held out his staff to Veren. “Perhaps you’d like to demonstrate to the children what a fully trained priest is capable of? You may be able to inspire a little life in them.” The older boys stirred sullenly, holding their battered bodies erect with pride.

The green-eyed priest took the staff, and hefted it, testing its weight. He smiled, and handed it to one of the other masters. “Hold this for me while I prepare.” He stripped off his cloak, and slipped out of his tunic. His body was toned and muscular, though he could count his ribs. There was not an ounce of fat on his body, and every tendon flexed in readiness. He wrapped his sinewy fingers around the staff, and twirled it a few times, accustoming himself to its balance.
Kaelin looked over the crowd of novices, and pointed to a few of them. “You, you, you, and…you. Take a sword, and come test our priest’s skills. See if you can so much as land a blow on him.”

Veren closed his eyes and reached deep within himself to the core of his spirit. He felt his flesh melt into the spirit, and let the spirit suffuse him with its purity. He half heard the ring of metal as the youths drew their swords, and spun to knock away the first of their blows. One quick strike with the butt of the staff knocked a youth to the ground, and he lay there senseless. The others closed in quickly, and he easily blocked their wild slashes.
The other boys stood looking on, amazed at the easer with which Veren struck their comrades down. More than once, one of the novices scrambled back to his feet only in time to be dealt another blow. Soon, only one boy was left conscious, and he danced warily out of reach. Veren waited, holding the staff loosely; the boy was wary to come within his reach again.
Suddenly, the priest leaped forward, and, catching the boy by surprise, knocked him to the ground and knelt upon his back, holding the staff down across the youth’s neck. He caught the young arms and pinned them in one practiced movement. The young man could not move without cutting off his supply of air, but continued to struggle and gasp for breath. Veren leaned down and whispered into his ear, “Let it go, boy. You cling to this life and body too readily. Relish the pain, for it will free your soul from its prison.” He dropped the staff, and rose to his feet as the boy took in great gulps of air, and scrambled back to his companions, bruised and bleeding from a cut across his forehead.
“You see, children? This is what a man who is freed from desire and attachment can do. I garuntee you that there is no pain you can inflict on him that he will not glory in, and death will be his greatest reward. Are any of you ready to die? Are any of you so free of attachment that you would fight with his abandon? None! None!” Kaelin spat into the ground at the feet of the front line of novices. “Until you can relinquish your hold on this world, you will remain infants, babies sucking at the withered teat of a corpse!”
Veren stood quietly, feeling the cold begin to prickle against his skin. He looked out over the crowd, and saw the green fire begin to burn behind their eyes. He smiled slightly; they would be ready.

Two years later, in the spring, a small fleet set out from the rocky shores of the priests’ island. The journey had been delayed for another year; fighting had broken out in Ersa where the natives had begun trying to build a fleet of warships. It had taken the better part of that summer and autumn to defeat them, and there had been no men to spare for his undertaking. But now they were setting out; Veren stood in the prow of the flagship, feeling the spray against his face. With one hand on the curved beam that swept up from the keel, he stood swaying in rhythm to the ship’s rolling, and looked out to the eastern horizon.
Soon.

16ish

2007-11-11T23:32:00.001-08:00

Mado toddled along uncertainly, her chubby hands wrapped tightly around Zula's fingers. The oddly matched pair made slow progress through the garden, but the stones echoed with the burbles of childish laughter.

She heard the thud of large bare feet along the path, and released Mado's finger as Mushad scooped her up with a roar of laughter. He tossed her into the air and caught her nimbly, and Mado squealed in delight. Zula walked slowly back to the bench that had been placed by the side of the garden path, and sat quietly. She turned her face to the west and felt the last light of the evening sun wash over her face. A slow smile spread across her face, and she could feel the warmth of the evening bathing her skin.

Ved made her way through the garden, and stood silently by the bench. Zula looked up at her; the reddish light fromt he sun illuminated the hair that seemed ginger ordinarily, and transformed it into a brilliant aureole, outlining her face in light. Her pale skin gleamed brightly like the polished bone of Zula's comb, and something in her stance gave an air of regality.

Zula reached over and gently clasped Ved's hand within her own. "Ved..." she said softly.

"Yes, lady?" Ved responded, but so quietly that Zula almost did not hear her.

"Ved, tell me who you are."

"I am Ved, lady, manager of the household of Mushad, in Kemal, in the land of Kedon. which gives tribute and homage to the priests of the Temaltan isles." She spoke quietly and evenly, revealing nothing in her tone or expression.

"No,. I want to know who you really are. I will tell no-one, and will never ask again, but Ved, I must know." She squeezed the woman's hand gently, and looked bak out towards the setting sun.

"I am Madak, of the house of Lothel, in the Selides islands. I am a priestess, and was being prepared to become the head of my order." Her pale fingers twitched nervously as she continued. "Every year, in the month of Temala, we go out on our temple boats to the spot where Suktis fell into the sea. My people fled from Suktis when she fell, lead by a priestess of the Great Temple there. When they reached the Selides, and found shelter, they thanked the gods for sparing them, and promised to return and pray for forgiveness for the sins of Suktis. We return every year, say our prayers, and send our sacrifices down into the depths."

She looked down, and clasped Zula's hand tightly with both of hers. "It is always a dnagerous mission. The warrior priests do all they can to stop us. Their ship approached as we were beginning the rite; we had just enough time to finish the prayers before they attacked. There was nothing we could do, and they killed my compnanions. I was knocked into the water, and hid underneath the wreckage of our ship until they were gone. I clung to a bit of deck that floated by, and managed to make it into a raft. I was picked up by your husband's ship two days later.

"Please, I beg you by everything you hold sacred, do not tell anyone who I am. The priests hold the power here, and they will kill me if they find out who I am. Fortunately my hair is not white, nor my eyes purple, so I cna pass far an Ersan. But if they found out...' Her voice trailed off, and Zula felt a shudder pass through her. She squeezed Madak's hand gently, and whispered, "I'll never tell anyone. You will be safe in my home, I swear it."
___________________________________________________________

15ish

2007-11-11T23:29:00.000-08:00

Ved had anxiously scanned the horizon for the approaching caravan ever since the early afternoon, but nothing was to be seen across the dunes apart from the little dust devils that whirled here and there. The Kedonese called the little swirls of sand and dust hadji, and made a sign to ward off evil whenever one appeared. Ved did the same when in the presence of others, but at times like this she simply preferred to watch the little dervishes whirl away; she did not believe in any such evil spirits as the hadji. Evil spirits there probably were, but she doubted that they would bother to live in a cloud of dust, or that they could be thwarted by a simple gesture.
She prepared the household dinner, and made sure that everyone had enough to eat. If the caravan did not return the following day, she would need to go to the market.
A long undulating cry rang out over the sands, and Ved dashed outside to see what on earth it could be. With a joyful cry, she saw the caravan, figures shimmering the heat radiating from the sand; she ran back into the house and rang the bronze chime, bringing the rest of the household out into the courtyard to welcome the family home.

The next day, when Mushad had left to attend to his business in the village, Ved and Zula unpacked the bags from the caravan.
“Did you have enough water?” Ved asked as she stacked the empty water skins in a neat pile.
“Oh, yes, there was plenty. Mushad knew of an oasis in between here and Perzelsis, and we were able to refill there, but I think we could have made the trip on your supplies alone!” Both women laughed, and Zula cast a glance towards the cradle where Mado was sleeping.
“I have heard that the blessings given in the great temple are like no others,” Ved continued. “They say that any child blessed there will go through life with great strength, though I suppose that is the point of the whole blessing.” She folded a curtain with a quick flick of the wrist, and laid it aside. Zula fingered the beaded edge of a robe, and stared off into the distance.

“My lady?” Zula started, and looked up; she realized that Ved had been calling her name for some time.
“I’m sorry, Ved, I wasn’t paying attention. What was it you needed?”
Ved held up a pile of folded curtains and sheets. “Where shall I put these? Will you be needing them again soon, or should I store them away again?”
“Oh, no, we will not be using them again for some time, I would imagine. Just put them back where they were, thank you.”
Ved moved to carry the fabric away, but paused at the door. She thought for a moment, then set the stack down by the curtained doorway, and knelt beside Zula. “If you will excuse me, lady, I could not help but notice that you are not quite yourself today. Is something wrong? Is there anything I can do to help?”
Zula shook her head, and a strand of long black hair slipped from under her chali and lay across her forehead. “No, Ved, it’s nothing. I just.,.” She covered her mouth with one hadn, and turned away, staring into the distance. “I…Have you ever had a vision?”
Zula regretted her words almost as soon as she said them; after all, Ved was not a priestess, and how could she care what odd things happened to Zula? But Ved did not seem surprised, and asked,”What sort of vision do you mean, lady?”
“Oh, just an odd dream I had. I found myself in what looked like another temple, doing things that I know I have never seen or done in my life.”

Ved paused for a moment before answering. How mcuh should she say? Would the whole truth frighten Zula, or would it free her to accept what was happening and move forward. She whispered a quick prayer to Suk, and turned around with a smile.

"Lady, may I tell you what my people believe about such things?" Zula was starteled, but nodded for her to continue. Ved collected her thoughts, and began. "We believe that the world was created by the god Suk, father of all other gods. He created the world, and flung out the sky like a blanket around it. Each of the gods was assigned to a place around the world, and Suk began to create the souls who would populate the world. But then Servaka, the trickster came by and, seeing the work of Suk's hand, was jealous. It distracted Suk, and substituted some of the material with his own. When Suk placed the souls in the world, they began to go to and fro, chasing the wind. When Suk discovered what had happened, he grieved, for the great design of the world was marred. Perzala encouraged him to wipe the world clean, and begin again, but Temala intervened. The plan might be changed, but not lost, he argued. If each soul lived many times, and strove to rid itself of the dross of Servaka, then it might be purged and redeemed. Suk assented to Temala's plan; the lvies of men were shortened, but their souls were given wings so that they might fly into another life when the old one was ended." Ved took a deep breath, and scanned Zula's face quickly. She could not read her expression, but she did not seem firghtened, so Ved continued "When we die, our souls fly away to born into another life, another place. Sometimes we can remember bits of the preivous life, sometimes we cannot, but whether we remember or not, our souls were changed and shaped by the lives that have come before. If we make the right choices, and purge ourselves of all of Servaka's dross, we will eventually be taken to live with the gods. When a soul has learned the lessons it must learn and cleansed itself, it is taken bodily and placed in the sky; they shine so brightly that we can see them here, and call them stars. When a soul remembers a portion of its previous life, it means that the learning is progressing and that the soul may be ready to move to a new stage of learning."

Zula stared at Ved; her whole countenance had changed as she told her story. She was kneeling elegantly, and spoke with a fluidity and grace that Zula had not heard from her before. Her back was straight and her hands were held palms upward, almost as if in prayer.

Ved suddenly seemed to become aware of her surroundings again, and quickly scrambled to her feet. She bustled back over to the stack of items, and picked them up again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go on so long." She swished through the curtains, and was gone.

Zula sat for a long moment, baffled by the scene that had just transpired. Her eyes drifted distradtedly over the beam of sunlight that streamed through the window, and illuminated the chipped stone of the floor. Dust motes whirled through the beam: little specks that could barely be seen flamed with sudden brilliance as they rose into the light, other fragments dulled and disappeared as they sank into the shadow. She reached into the beam, and saw her skin blaze like copper in the sunlight, almost glowing.
__________________________________
Zula and Ved never spoke again of the visions that began to plague Zula's waking life, but both were aware that they were more than housekeeper and mistress now. Though their ranking in the social structure could not change, they had become friends.

warning

2007-11-09T11:16:00.000-08:00

For those who haven't yet noticed, my posts here are full of typos and skipped words. I correct nothing before posting it, and my typing has gone downhill as my wordcount has increased, no surprise there.

I will try to repost the whole thing when I am done, and will clean up the spelling then.

Current word count: 36,000.