Cairee felt incredibly clever as she kicked the barrel towards the workers. And incredibly stupid as it started to roll back, making them all jump out of the way. Trickery and street smarts were definitely not among her strengths.
Neither, it turned out, was climbing.
She strapped her bundle to her belly with the ratty, threadbare tie from her clothes. It freed up her hands but the extra bulk made it difficult to scale the wall. She found a few handholds but struggled to pull herself up. Exhaustion rolled through her body like a wave. "Keep going, dont wait for me," she urged the others.
For Tymythy, climbing in and of itself was not an unfamiliar exercise, but scaling man-made walls of buildings taller than any he had ever seen proved very different to climbing trees – the sun-baked mortar on the walls crumbled unexpectedly under his fingers, and the unwieldy weight of the bundle of what he hoped contained his meagre worldly possessions kept throwing him off-balance, turning his progress into a slow crawl.
HAHAHAHA
Eyes blinking in the sunlight, Dounia didn't understand what was happening for a moment. The barrel was glowing, sort of, but it was rolling at them! Leaping for the closest windowledge, Dounia felt her hands close around a weak adobe brick, and then the entire ledge crumbled under her grasp. She hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of her.
-
Everyone grabbed at the wall but attacked the task off balance. They were rushed. Had they not been chased by a mob of factory workers ...
Dounia slid off the wall and hit the ground hard but kept her feet and a readiness to move. Zahra's claws receded and wouldn't return. Cairee was, after climbing hard, two feet off the ground. Tymythy did well and was nearly eight feet up but not out of reach.
The mob seemed disinterested in the others and focused on trying to grab Tymythy and pull him off the wall. The security guard was in the forefront.
Dounia stopped trying to climb, and turned to the factory boss. Desperate to avoid a fight, she cast her mind to the fables she read, hoping for inspiration. "Please sir, I'm so sorry! My brother has been touched by a spirit. Sometimes the spirits whisper to him, and make him do mad things. We were trying to catch him before he did any damage."
She opened her bundle and rooted through her things. Pulling out a nice ring with a ruby in it (20gp), she offered it to him, saying, "Please, accept this by way of apology, and let us take him home. The priestesses said it wasn't contagious, but he really should not be out for long."
She kept casting nervous glances at Tymythy, hoping he would play into the ruse. Please please believe us, let us go! she prayed, to the spirit of the east wind, which was inconsistent and changeable, much like she hoped their disposition would be.
Zahra quickly realized the futility of their attempts to climb and joined Dounia in pleading their case rather than fighting.
She allowed all the stresses of the last few days to explode to the surface as she dissolved into tears. The tears were genuine but she allowed them to flow because it always seemed to soften her father's mood should he be cross with her.
She glanced over as Dounia produced a ring offered as a bribe. Zahra added what she could,
She reaches into her pack and pulls out one of her crossbow bolts,
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The guard glanced at Dounia.
<in Aerthane>"He isn't your brother desert flower. He's from the outside world. I mean, look at him." The Guard, who was about to reach for Tymythy, turned to see the ring which, to him, looked like three weeks pay. His curiosity had started to turn his attention.
When Zahra started to break down the four stopped what they were doing and looked like they were a bit lost. What the hell was going on here. They were all quiet until one of the workers in the back said quietly, <Limaninite> "I've got a brother like that. He says things suddenly that he doesn't mean, horrible things sometimes, real quick. Doctors say it's a problem with his brain and we should be patient but people don't understand. It gets him in real trouble sometimes."
worker 2: concerned "Yes, how is Yethra doing?"
Worker 1: happy "He's working again. He carries wheat bundles over at Wahdir's. They know not to mind him there."
Guard: trying to be severe but obviously concerned "Well now, you shouldn't be bringing him through factories. It's dangerous in there, even if you aren't throwing pipes into drive belts. Ahem, you keep your ring ... but, ah, that Baharat and Za'atar ... you know I wouldn't mind."
The Guard moves up the little staircase to the door and unlocks it. <Limaninite>"Go straight through. It'll take you out to the Barid block. I'll tell the others that we lost you in the lane." He looked at Tymythy as the young warrior passed to go through the door. <broken Aerthane - loud and slow>
Worker 1: reproachful <Limaninite>"Talking loud like that doesn't make a difference. The boy is touched not deaf."
Having been unable to follow the discussion up to this point, Tymythy had watched with some bemusement as Dounia’s and Zahra’s words had calmed the people who had joined the case – citizens mobilizing to assist the guards at their duty, no doubt, as commendable as it had been unfortunate for their escape attempt.
”Thank you?” Tymythy answered, feeling rather perplexed by the sudden turn of events.
Cairee, Dounia, Tymythy and Zahra entered the long hallway. It wasn't a straight path but often changed angles slightly, or stepped down or up several times. It was if the passage went through several different buildings. The walls here were decoratively painted plaster, faded, and many doors lined them on the left and right. Halfway down were two gated arches that each blocked another hallway, one on the left and one right.
They could see a heavy wooden door at the end of the hall and light seeped around its' frame.
The final door opened easily and the four burst out into daylight.
Many people were passing in the street and many of those carried packages of all sizes. Business that lined either side of the roadway appeared to be dedicated to steerage companies, couriers, and mailing services.
To the right, and not far away, was a wagon pulled by a single horse. Under its' tarp seemed to be dozens of carrier pigeon cages. Passing the wagon was a troop of performers all dressed in long white coats. They played tambourines and piccolos, dancing as the passed.
To the left the street branched in two. One seemed dominated by foot traffic. The other was a long street with a cavalcade of wagons baring produce and packages of all kinds - possibly headed to market.
There was another alleyway just across the street. They could see it. It was a jumble of balconies with hung laundry. Homeless men and women used it as shelter, trying to find a place to rest for the night with an ever-watchful sun.
Tymythy noticed it first, and then Cairee. More than a hundred feet to the left, down the pedestrian clogged street, was Cascha with two guards. They were going through pulling off strangers' hoods and head coverings as they went. They were joined by three other guards who seemed to have been on patrol here.
Cairee tried desperately to scramble up the wall. Her limbs wouldn't cooperate. She'd manage to push herself up a few inches, only to slide right back down to the first foothold. Her companions weren't having any better luck. She was sure the factory workers would peel them off the wall or off the ground, give them a sound beating, and then pass them back to Cascha. And it would be Cairee's fault. Why had she thought climbing was a good idea??
And then Dounia and Zahra managed to talk the workers into not only letting them go, but helping them a little as well. And Dounia thinks I'm the witch, Cairee thought as she watched the exchange with her back to the wall, trying very hard not to be noticed.
They could see a heavy wooden door at the end of the hall and light seeped around its' frame. The final door opened easily and the four burst out into daylight.
When they reached the door they took a moment to equip themselves with anything useful in their bundles. Better to be wearing her armour than carrying around. Cairee felt both relieved for the little extra protection and fatigued at the extra weight. The rest of her meagre possessions were already in her threadbare bag. All that was left was the canvas it had all been wrapped in, which Cairee stuffed in her bag.
Knowing their struggles weren't over yet, Cairee kept an eye out for something she could use as a quarterstaff. She wasn't much for combat, but if it should come to that she'd like a fighting chance.
To the right, and not far away, was a wagon pulled by a single horse. Under its' tarp seemed to be dozens of carrier pigeon cages. Passing the wagon was a troop of performers all dressed in long white coats. They played tambourines and piccolos, dancing as the passed.
Even in all of this chaos, Cairee couldn't help but smile at the cart of pigeons. Could her friends 99 and 101 be there?
Tymythy noticed it first, and then Cairee. More than a hundred feet to the left, down the pedestrian clogged street, was Cascha with two guards. They were going through pulling off strangers' hoods and head coverings as they went. They were joined by three other guards who seemed to have been on patrol here.
The guards were too close. They had to move fast. No time to liaise with pigeons.
"Don't look left, but Cascha's close. We've gotta get out of here.
Cascha was blocking the two roads to the left. That left taking the road to the right and hoping Casha didn't catch up, or darting across the road into the alley. "Zahra, what way should we go?
Cairee pulled the canvas out of her bag and draped over her head and shoulders. She didn't look quite like the performers in the white robes, but she hoped with her armour and head covering she wouldn't be so obviously recognizable to the guards. She motioned for the others to do the same, and casually moved into the street, pretending to join in the dance as she
Perhaps they could have reached the wagons on their way to market. Perhaps the even could have the guards in the busy street of pedestrians.
But it was an unnecessary risk.
The disguise was a very simple one and that was its' virtue. What seemed like canvas was really a pale cotton and worked surprisingly well as a shawl and in this crowd it was all that could be seen of a person.
Cairee moved into the group of performers and began bobbing and dancing as they did ... she was pretty good at it! The four all gained precious yards of distance. As they passed by the cart of carrier pigeons Zahra would swear that a small group of them were watching Cairee. One started cooing. Several of the others flapped their wings. The whole cart became a little cacophony of pigeons. It was a little noise, and only for a moment, but it was a singular kind of noise.
The former prisoners could see that it drew Cascha's noticed. She waved and with the guards headed directly over.
As they passed by the cart of carrier pigeons Zahra would swear that a small group of them were watching Cairee. One started cooing. Several of the others flapped their wings. The whole cart became a little cacophony of pigeons. It was a little noise, and only for a moment, but it was a singular kind of noise.
As she dances, Cairee can't help but whisper a quiet "Hello" to the pigeons, and keeps an ear on their chatter, trying to listen in while she dances with the performers.
Zahra didn't have time to get her bearings as they spilled out into the street. She blinked a few times against the light and just as her eyes adjusted, Cairee and Tymythy pointed out Cascha and the guards.
Her immediate response was to want to move in the opposite direction regardless of where it took them. As Cairee began to move into the group of dancers, Zahra began to follow. The pigeons and their unnatural fixation on the dancing cleric confused her but if truth be known, many things confused Zahra.
Appreciating the fact that dancing didn't involve thought, the native Limaninite moved into the midst of the performers as if she had always been part of their troupe.
Dounia was still struggling to accept that they'd managed to get away from the factory without a fight. They hadn't even wanted her ring! She was glad, though, and tucked it on her finger, where it sparkled in the strange noon sunlight of Daw'alnahar.
So caught up was she in her musings that it took her a moment to realize that Cairee was attempting to merge with the dancers. Smiling, Dounia knew this would be easy for her. After all, she and Cyra danced all the time in their oasis home.
She gyrated and wiggled, full of confidence. It didn't occur to her to wonder why her sister had always insisted they danced outside, under the sky. And not inside their comfortable tent, where the mirror was.
The skinny girl managed not to bump into anybody else. Barely. But she thought she looked magnificent!
The presence of the guards led a certain something to the need to blend in, but luckily for Tymythy, the intricate movements of the other dancers did remind the tribal warrior of the Spear Dances that the clan’s warriors often performed at celebrations or holy days… dances that blended into actual weapons drills of the hunters and soldiers, the graceful sequence of strikes and parries, thrusts and dodges, charges and evasions.
By now, Tymythy had managed to secure the bundle containing his belongings to his back, leaving his hands free to hold his spear… and now the cloak which he pulled from the bundle, using the cloth to shield his body and that of the stumbling Dounia from the sight of the approaching guards as he danced around the mistress of locks, shielding her from the unfriendly eyes the best he could.
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Pigeon #1 <in pigeon> ”Oh, I think I know her.”
Pigeon #2 <in pigeon> ”For crying out loud, you think you know everybody.”
Pigeons #3 & 4 <in pigeon but out of sinc> ”Yes High Stone Over the Night People, Chappy thinks she knows everybody.”
Pigeon #5 <in pigeon> ”Ooooo, I met Shiny Sword Golden Belt. Ahhh, I met Big Beer Big Wagon. Oooooh, I met Pointy Hat Everyone Listen. Oh common!”
Pigeon #1 aka CotUL <in pigeon> ”It’s Chapel of the Unending Light, if you please. And I HAVE met Pointy Hat Everyone Listen. He received a message from me about the all-flowers-out gather … and SHE looks like Orange Hair Bird Mouth. ”
All of the pigeons were quiet for a few seconds and looked at Cairee.
Pigeon #6 <in pigeon> ”Hmm, she does look like Orange Hair Bird Mouth. Whaddaya know.”
CotUL <in pigeon> ”Thank you Square House of the Back and Forths.”
Pigeon #6 aka SHotBaF (Pigeon #6) <in pigeon> ”Your welcome.”
Pigeon #2 aka SHOTNiP <in pigeon> ”How can you tell?! All of the Orange Hair look alike.”
CotUL <in pigeon> ”Button nose.”
Pigeons #2,3,4, and 5 <in pigeon> ”Oooooooh!”
Mule <in horse> ”Goddess! Pigeons never stop making noise!”
Cairee <in Aerthane and pigeon> "Hello."
CotUL <in pigeon> "Told ya - Bird Mouth. Ahem, hi."
Cascha rushed to the pigeon wagon but the time she arrived the performers, and the four escape prisoners, were gone. The bhagra dancers, and flute and tambourine players broke south. Cairee, Dounia, Tymythy, and Zahra left them quickly, hoping for another layer of distance from the city guard.
The group looked at the new street which seemed to be lined with warehouses.
To the right but far down there was an abandoned warehouse of partially collapsing wood, probably a haven for lost souls who seek to get out of the eternal sun.
Near and to the left was a coffee house that served spiced lamb kababs (and spirits) to workers trying to relax or to others who worked late into the night hours.
Two buildings after the coffee house there was a construction site where no workers attended. From what could be seen at a distance it was a plain hole with a sturdy railing all about it. Signs, which couldn't be read from this distance, adorned the railing.
Staring at the row of warehouses, Dounia turned to Zahra. "What do we do? Hide for a bit? Or keep going towards your parents house?" Her stomach rumbled as a waft of spiced lamb found her, and she was painfully aware that she hadn't eaten yet that day. Guiltily, she glanced at the orange-haired witch; she was probably mostly starved, after months in that horrible wagon. "They wouldn't expect us to go in the coffee house, rights?" she asked, hopefully.
”What is a coffee?” Tymythy asked, his eyes scanning the streets and their options. Considering how recently they had run into their pursuers it was clear enough that they had yet not done enough running from to be overly concerned with running to anywhere in particular, but whatever the place was, it seemed crowded enough and the wondrous smells from all the meats sizzling on the grill made his mouth water.
”Perhaps the place has a back door?” Tymythy mused aloud as he took his turn in leading the quartet of escapees into the cafe Dounia had indicated, one hand digging into the bundle of his possessions, luckily locating his money pouch. The young hunter took out a handful of coins and deposited them into the hands of a businesslike person wearing what he took to be the enterprise’s workers’ uniform as he rushed past.
”Excuse us,” he said in Aerthane, meeting the man’s surprised look with a smile. ”For the trouble. And for this,” he added, snatching one meat-filled skewer from a tray as he rushed past the waiter, looking for the back door he hoped there kitchen area would contain.
... one hand digging into the bundle of his possessions, luckily locating his money pouch ...
Tymythy dug one hand in his bundle and tried to locate his money pouch but couldn't find it. Nor could any of his new comrade escapees.
If it had been part of the city that Zahra was very familiar with, she may have suggested hiding. However, as it was, she just wanted to get home. None of their options seemed ideal but the coffee house did seem like a good idea, especially if there was a back door like Tymythy said. She was never very quick at thinking on her feet and before she could answer Dounia, the decision was already made and they were on the move again.
Seeing Tymythy looking for coins, Dounia slipped the ring off her finger again and dropped it into Tymythy's hand. Maybe it would do the trick here, where it hadn't been accepted before.
The group of lost souls that these four seemed to be looked hungrily at the coffee house. Their minds were still on escape, though perhaps slightly distracted by the powerful smell of spiced and roasted lamb and chicken. The front of the house had a small arched doorway. To the right side of the door was a larger arch opening where people were seated at small tables drinking dark drinks from tiny cups while shaded by a dull coloured awning.
As Tymythy made for the front door Cairee caught a strange bird silhouette in the corner of her eye and as it became closer it seemed to change shape through some king of undulating motion. Behind it followed five other birds flying in a V. The first did a dramatic dive plunging downward, but still blocks, away disappearing behind some taller rooftops.
Suddenly it burst over the coffee house roof! It wasn't a bird at all but an intricately woven carpet flying through the air. Standing atop the carpet was a woman. She wore yards of loose silk clothing and had a shiny chain shirt overtop. Her face looked excited and wicked and joyful. She looked down at the street taking in the chaos with a glance. As the four escapees watched they became certain she was diving at a group of guards in the street!
Five other flying carpets shot over the rooftop, each holding three city guards. They tried to stay close but the woman, only a little older than Zahra, was far too able a carpet rider. She changed tack at the last second and shot over the roof across the street.
The following guards tried hard to hang on and split flight paths in all directions, several of them fell off of their carpets only to land on street guards.
As the girl flew away you could see her standing, feet together, and bowing to the street behind her. She disappeared from view as she headed towards the Twilight city of Alshafaq.
The four used the disarray of the guards to rush into the Coffee House.
Tymythy's eyes darted about the interior as he searched for his money. The room was filled with drapery as people sat on beautiful, if a little faded, carpets. Some smoked from hookahs. As they leaned against great pillows they ate from large trays of food.
Tymythy could see a back door between the lavatories and the kitchens.
Dounia passed him her ring. When he in turn handed it to the man holding the tray of skewers the server's eyes went wide and didn't seem to mind the group who moved as inconspicuously as possible through the room.
Dounia stared at the girl on the carpet with stars in her eyes. What daring! What skill! What sheer audacity! She couldn't help cheering when some of the guards fell, and she clapped enthusiastically when the girl bowed. One day, she vowed to herself, one day.
Brought back to herself by Cairee's nudge, she scampered into the coffeehouse.
Sometimes being small was helpful, and this was one of those times. Dounia moved through the crowd like a wraith, finding empty spots and moving through them like a shadow.
Cairee watched the strange birds flying high over the city, curious at this new species. Perhaps she'd have a chance to talk to them and discover their winged-lore one day.
The formation swooped closer and Cairee had no idea what she was looking at. It made no sense. People-shaped birds? Why weren't their wings flapping?
She watched, mouth gaping, as their true form became clear. A woman? Riding a sky carpet? Chased by guards on sky carpets?
What strange wizardry was this?
"Mmph!" A group of children chasing the sky carpets bumped into Cairee, pushing her into Dounia. They both tore their eyes from the floating people and hurried into the cafe.
The smells in the cafe were overwhelming. When was the last time she had more than sips of water and crusts of bread? Tymythy handed the ring over to the waiter and helped himself to some meat. Cairee did the same, assuming such a pretty object was worth a good deal more than a few kabobs. She licked at her greasy fingers, ending up with a mixture of seasoned lamb fat and caked-on travel dirt in her mouth.
Zahra watched the spectacular spectacle in the sky with rapt attention. She couldn't help but wonder about the young woman and how she had become so accomplished at flying carpets at her age. She also wondered why she was being chased by guards. There was something about the look on her face that suggested it wasn't a misunderstanding like it was for the four of them but Zahra couldn't be sure. All she was sure about is that she was their good fortune today as it created confusion for the guards chasing them. In an awestruck voice she said, "Well that was unexpected. Thank the gods for whoever she is."
Zahra ducked into the cafe along with the others. Usually her attention would be immediately drawn to the people, wondering about their stories and maybe striking up a conversation to learn more about them. However, today she only had eyes for the food. Her stomach rumbled loudly and she grabbed a kabob along with the others as they rushed through the building.
Tymythy gawked at the flying carpets, wondering what strange corner of the world his travels had taken him. He had heard wondrous tales of bizarre lands and their people from Haytham Arnaout, but had privately thought them as exaggerations or outright lies more than not. But now? He was beginning to think the strange traveling merchant had been erring on the side of caution in his tales! Tymythy didn't know what fell congress with dark spirits could break men free from the world's weight, affixing them to the skies instead, but he knew it was unnatural and wanted nothing to do with it.
Tymythy melded into the crowd after the three women, taking his cues from the way they moved with the crowd rather than through it, hoping the spectacle outside would capture the attention of those looking for the four escapees for a few moments until they reached the back alley though the strange restaurant.
Tymythy's quick thinking, quick walking, and sense of purpose did the trick in all of the chaos. No one had a moment to question why four people were headed out the back door and the four could see Cascha walking past the establishment without even looking in.
The back was a courtyard between buildings and not a soul was back here. A few alleys led to iron gates back to main streets. As the four looked for a way out the server rushed out of the door, joined by an old olive-skinned man in a coffee stained apron.
The old man was holding the ring in the air and yelling in Aerthane, "Too much! This is too much! You stop and stay! Eat, please!" The server rushed about to place a carpet and cushions to lay outside. A second server, who's aerthane was not as good as the rest, brought out sweet-lime cold tea, "Please ... sit. This place ... very quiet. No begging ... no interruptions."
Dounia startled like a desert hare when the two men came running in, but when she understood their intention, she began to relax. As they brought in cushions, tea, and food, the skinny girl accepted it all as her due, and didn't even think to haggle.
The minutes ticked by, and the guards didn't come into the coffee house. She tried to occupy her mind by examining the three bundles she'd taken, hers and the other two. She also replaced her scarf, covering her hair modestly.
After a half-hour or so, she allowed herself a smile.
"I think we're safe," she said to the others, who had been eating and drinking in tense silence. "Maybe we should stay here for a while, instead of going to your folks house," she suggested, turning to Zahra. "Safer here than on the streets?"
**
Turning to the two foreigners, Dounia said, "I think you should tell us your stories. My sister and I were caught liberating food from an empty house. I think it was maybe the lady in red's house. She was there, anyway. I think being sold into slavery is a bit of an overreaction, but it's not a surprise why I'm here. Buy why would they take you from so far?" she asked the orange haired witch. Turning to Tymythy, she asked, "And where are you even from? Why did they take you?"
The old man and servers rushed to make them comfortable. Cairee stood in the middle of the bustle, too stunned to speak or realize she was in the way. No one was yelling at her or threatening her or trying to tie her up. They were offering her food! And cushions! All of this kindness was overwhelming. Cairee burst into tears.
A server rushed over to her. "Something is wrong? What?" He looked around, anxious to make it better.
"No, everything is wonderful. Thank you. Thank you all." She tried smiling through her embarrassing water works. "Your carpet is too nice, I don't want to ruin it. Is there somewhere I can wash my...?" She trailed off, realizing the only acceptable end of that sentence is everything and that's not an appropriate thing to say to a young man.
Once she washed her hands and face and calmed herself down, Cairee gladly settled into a few comfortable cushions and drank as much sweet-lime tea as she could.
She took a few moments to go through what remained of her bundle. Not that she had much to begin with. She still had her bedroll, traveling supplies, and little pouch with some..uh...special supplies, thank godess. The others saw her pull out a leather bound journal, quill and ink, and a grey stone that looked like it was on fire - but only for a second before Cairee shoved it back in her bag. Her bank note was, not surprisingly, gone.
As everyone ate and drank and collected themselves, Cairee looked them all over, wondering if any are in need of divine aide from Saiph.
"This courtyard is so peaceful. Do you think we could stay for a while?" She looked at the others hopefully. "Maybe get some rest and come up with a plan? I wonder if that ring would buy us some information too? A map, or...um..." Cairee trailed off. She had no idea what they needed.
Turning to the two foreigners, Dounia said, "I think you should tell us your stories. My sister and I were caught liberating food from an empty house. I think it was maybe the lady in red's house. She was there, anyway. I think being sold into slavery is a bit of an overreaction, but it's not a surprise why I'm here. Buy why would they take you from so far?" she asked the orange haired witch.
It was an excellent question, and one Cairee had tried to figure out in the cage. Unfortunately she'd spent most of that time delusional either from fever or whatever they were putting in the water and hadn't gotten very far.
"I'm from Divolgatia originally, but have been studying in the great city of Issmenador for the last few years. Several months ago my order sent me to one of the outposts to spread the word of Saiph. I wasn't there very long before I was asked to accompany a scouting party. A wagon train had gone missing. We traveled for almost 30 days looking for them.
"On that last day, a few people went on a short patrol, leaving me and a few others at camp. I was sitting at the campfire, mending one of the guard's socks. That's the last thing I remember. I don't know what happened. I woke up in that horrid cage. The others in the scouting party were gone. I was in it for...weeks? I don't know who attacked us or why I don't remember or what happened to the others or why they took me so far or...or...or..." The tears started to come again and Cairee took a few deep breaths and a long sip of tea.
After five minutes of sitting, a large brass platter comes baring fruits and nuts, enough for eight people, arranged in rings. Dates, olives, figs, and macadamia and walnuts made little centre rings. Some dry and rubbery Mango, slightly off banana, wet coconut, and beautiful fresh pineapple made larger outer rings. In the very centre was a bowl divided into two compartments that held orange slices on one side and cinnamon for dipping on the other.
After ten minutes the tall clock towers conveyed the song of nine in the evening - a sweet upward lilt. You have been in the city for an hour now. The server listening to Cairee brought out a big copper bowl of water. It was 24" in diameter and he had difficulty carrying it through the door. When Cairee touched it her hands stung faintly and then smelled of lemon. He left behind a small pile of cloths and towels.
In fifteen minutes another great platter came of spiced lamb skewers and tranches of spiced beef that covered large pieces of unleavened bread. Little dishes contained humus and cucumber yogurt and a very spicy tomato paste. Three bottles of a gentle red wine came with it and a jug of water with cucumbers and lemons and mint floating.
The owner, the old man with the coffee stained apron came out from time-to-time and asked how you were doing. His Aerthane was good if his accent was a little strong. He asked no questions about who you were and showed no signs of wondering. His name, and the name of the coffee house, were both Tariq. .
Before they knew it the towers were crying the soft sad hour of ten when the servant came again and brought little plates of oats rolled in honey. Tiny glasses of strong coffee were brought out. Waves of tiredness came, especially to Cairee whom, it now seems, had been captured two months. Tymythy's body, though a hearty man in his prime, tired as soon as sustenance came. The self-same servant, called Isa, used a stick with a hook in it to lower an awning. It was meant to protect new fig plants from the eternal sun but the shade became very welcome.
Zahra froze as she heard the voices behind them. This was it. They were caught and it had all been was for naught. Then she realized what they were actually saying. Her first thought was to keep going, to get home, but that wouldn’t be polite. They were offering hospitality, even if it was paid for, and it would be rude to refuse them.
She turned and moved over to where they were arranging the carpet and cushions. She gave them a grateful smile and said in both Limaninite and Aerthane, ”Thank you, thank you, thank you. Your kindness will not be forgotten.”
When the food is brought out, all manners go out the window as Zahra realized how hungry she actually was. She pounced on the olives and the nuts, shoving handfuls into her mouth. When she heard the song of nine in the evening, her heart sank a little because she had always been told to never travel the city streets at night.
"Maybe we should stay here for a while, instead of going to your folks house," she suggested, turning to Zahra. "Safer here than on the streets?"
Zahra nodded slowly, her face sad. ”Better to not be on the streets at night. My parents will have to wait.”
------
Zahra actively listened to Cairee as she shared her story. She didn't interrupt with any questions and was impressed with Cairee's strength to have survived such a journey and to still be willing to help strangers when so far from home. When the tears started, Zahra moved closer and put her arm comfortingly around the young woman. "You've been through a lot. You're safe now. If you need to, let it out."
Dounia opened one of the two unidentified bundles. A long reed made durable with hardening resin stuck out of the bag. One end it had a kind of mouth piece on it. A series of ten darts identified it as a blowgun. The bag also had a cloth roll, like the kind used to carry an assortment of artist's brushes, but instead held a series of picks and bars and skeleton keys. The bag also had a small vial in it. The vial was filled with a white thick frothy liquid and the stopper had a pin-prick in its' centre.
The second bundle had a warm water resistant cloak, a healer's kit with most of its' materials still inside , and a waxed-paper bundle that contained some bandages soaking in a strange paste. There was also a strange copper rod twisted into a large horseshoe shape large enough to be warn around the neck. It was simple but nicely made and had runic letters on the inside bend.
Turning to the two foreigners, Dounia said, "I think you should tell us your stories. My sister and I were caught liberating food from an empty house. I think it was maybe the lady in red's house. She was there, anyway. I think being sold into slavery is a bit of an overreaction, but it's not a surprise why I'm here. Buy why would they take you from so far?" she asked the orange haired witch. Turning to Tymythy, she asked, "And where are you even from? Why did they take you?"
It took a good while for Tymythy to be able to relax, but eventually, as it became clear their pursuers were not coming back in their direction he allowed himself to settle on a cushion and take a sip of the tea – to immediately cringe at the sharp citrusy flavor so strange to his palate.
”A fair question,” he said, setting the cup with its weird tea carefully on the floor and pushing it further away gingerly. ”I hail from western Divolgatia, and as to how I got here… I don’t even truly know where “here” is,” he sighed, pondering on just how much he should tell the others. They had fought together – after a fashion, perhaps, but surely winning their freedom from captors counted as a battle even though little blood had been spilled on either side – so common courtesy alone demanded he share a true tale with them.
”I… I am on a vision quest, granted me by the Black-Winged Lord. The one you might know as Kanavu or Yarantavar,” he began, trying to piece together a tale that made sense, using a language he had little real familiarity outside the frequent chats with his friend Haytham, who had wisely insisted on conversing almost solely in Aerthane to help familiarize Tymythy to the language. ”A priceless boon, granted to one who had disgraced oneself in his first battle,” this was clearly a sore topic as Tymythy’s brows furrowed visibly as he recalled the shame of that fateful night.
”The Lord appeared to me in the form of a starling, the divine messenger who speaks in the voice of all things aloft, flying to the sunset, inviting me to follow. The clan’s shamans verified the veracity of the dream as a true vision, not mere fever-dream, and thus I set out, in the company of a single friend, to see what the spirits wanted me to see, to do what they wanted me to do.”
”The journey began much as one would expect, with mere mundane worries about bad weather, lousy paths for my friend’s pack beasts and the occasional sighting of a predator. But then, it changed.” Again, Tymythy struggled, but this time it seemed it wasn’t so much old wounds or his lack of mastery with the language that were letting him down. ”There was… a strange cloud filling the skies. Orange, like lit by a massive blaze on the ground, but there was no smell of smoke in the winds. A hill, thrusting from the vast, level fields like a tumor from living flesh, crowned in stones like teeth. Atop the hill, a figure, backlit by the strange luminous cloud… the figure cast its eyes on us and suddenly the weather went mad. Winds, spring out of nowhere. Forks of lightning trailing our steps as we fled, spurring us on. The wind began carrying with it a blizzard the likes of which I had bever seen before, and then, just when I thought the cold would claim me, the snow turned into sand, biting, blinding…”
”I know now what brought the wrath of that godling on us, but clearly the being was displeased of our intrusion. The blizzard and sandstorm drove me and my friend apart, and I found myself in a desert… even though just minutes before we had been walking on a veldt wide that reached to the very horizon. After that, everything was a blur… sun, baking my skin, water running out, treacherous sand shifting under my feet… I was on the brink of joining my ancestors when those slavers found me – an unlikely rescue as any, but I do owe my life to their cruel ministrations – a debt paid back by us rescuing ourselves from when without killing any of them, as would have been our due right.”
”And, when I laid in the cage, hovering on the brink of death… a vision of an amulet, held over me. A stone, in which my eyes found the image of a starling’s wing. A sign from the spirits that I was where they intended for me to be.”
Tymythy's tale captivated Cairee. Warriors fighting bravely and going on quests. It was worthy of the stories in her family lore - something Arnie & Mar would tell, or her parents or grandmother. It struck Cairee for the first time that her own story of recent months might actually impress her family as well. Not that she'd ever tell them.
She had always felt a connection with birds, and wondered that Tymythy's quest began with a visit from a black-winged god. As someone with a connection to nature and the weather, his description of the figure tormenting them with lightening and blizzards sent a chill down her spine. Is that where her little talents at manipulating mist and clouds could lead her? She longed to talk to Tal, her mentor from the Order. And a thought brightened Cairee's mood - perhaps she could! She was free now, and could start making the long journey home.
”...And, when I laid in the cage, hovering on the brink of death… a vision of an amulet, held over me. A stone, in which my eyes found the image of a starling’s wing. A sign from the spirits that I was where they intended for me to be.”
It took Cairee a moment to realize he was referring to her necklace. Her hand went automatically to her throat and stroked the thin stone. "I found this in the woods when I was a child. Wearing it always made me feel at peace. It wasn't until I was a little older and learned of Saiph's teachings that I realized it had been an early gift from her - a symbol of her angel wings."
Dounia opened one of the two unidentified bundles. A long reed made durable with hardening resin stuck out of the bag. One end it had a kind of mouth piece on it. A series of ten darts identified it as a blowgun. The bag also had a cloth roll, like the kind used to carry an assortment of artist's brushes, but instead held a series of picks and bars and skeleton keys. The bag also had a small vial in it. The vial was filled with a white thick frothy liquid and the stopper had a pin-prick in its' centre.
The second bundle had a warm water resistant cloak, a healer's kit with most of its' materials still inside (8 uses), and a waxed-paper bundle that contained some bandages soaking in a strange paste. There was also a strange copper rod twisted into a large horseshoe shape large enough to be warn around the neck. It was simple but nicely made and had runic letters on the inside bend.
Cairee looks curiously at this strange assortment of goods. She's particularly interested in the bandages - they could be useful in helping others get well - but tries to assess any special value of the other items.
"Perhaps I can hang onto the healers kit and bandages? I could put them to good use I'm sure. That rod looks like a tribal torc some men in my homeland wear. I'll need to rest a little first, but tomorrow I could examine the items a little more closely and see if any have a special ability."
She takes another discreet look at her new friends. None had answered her offer of healing, but perhaps they didn't understand, or were too shy. She felt she could offer a little comfort before they fell asleep. Hand around her necklace, Cairee closed her eyes and reached out to Saiph, asking for her help to ease her companion's pains and sorrows.
Dounia, ”All of this corruption in the sun city! I’m going to smash it all with my fists when I’m Emperor.”
Zahra, ”This the way it always is in the moment when things are total.”
Tymythy, ”For total is the way Crow-Carving-on-Rock-Ring do.”
Cairee couldn’t remember Tymythy having a pigeon’s head and it made her feel anxious. She went to grab some more food from the central platter and burnt her hand. The platter was gone. A camp fire was in its’ place and it was night time.
Cairee looked up and saw the Lyfthrynan mountains, to her left she saw a guard with his head split open, an axe still embedded in his temple. She looked forward through the fire and could see, through the flames, the hired guide Masasama running towards her, hatchet in hand!
The guide burst through the flames and …
It was early morning and Cairee was with the old nun Hazel from the Order of Saiph.
Hazel, "Come on child, it's time to fulfil your duty." She hands Cairee The Beheader, a longsword with an ornate blood red hilt - a family heirloom and her birthright. Cairee turns away. She's on a mountain top, looking down at Tymythy, Zahra, Dounia, and Caedeamh. She throws the sword at them. It turns into a lightning bolt. Cairee screams...
And wakes with a start. She's curled into a pile of cushions, sweaty and uncomfortable. Too much rich food after months of nothing. With the constant sun overhead, she has no idea what time it is.
@Dounia - the sprains on your wrists and ankles were healing naturally but you could feel the positive healing power flowing through Cairee and any traces of hurt disappeared.
"I found this in the woods when I was a child. Wearing it always made me feel at peace. It wasn't until I was a little older and learned of Saiph's teachings that I realized it had been an early gift from her - a symbol of her angel wings."
”The spirits move in mysterious ways,” tymythy agreed sagely, picking at the exotic foods offered them. He could recognize barely any of the fruits and the spicing on the meats was far too spicy for his liking – likely to mask the taste of befoulment, he reasoned, as the heat would make storing any fresh meat a nontrivial challenge. Still, hunger made for the best spice of them all, and after a few false starts he found the things most to his liking – the mildest of tastes, more often than not – and focused on stuffing himself with those. After all, one never knew where one’s next meal was coming from, and when it might arrive.
”The wise women told that the spirits do not see time as we mortals do, our generations are mere fleeting moments in their immortal existence. I wouldn’t be surprised that one might have laid seeds for future plots across the ages, in case the stars and fates of men aligned correctly for them to be used,” he added, dibbing a finger into the cinnamon dip and almost gagging as he took an experimental lick of the brown powder.
""Perhaps I can hang onto the healers kit and bandages? I could put them to good use I'm sure. That rod looks like a tribal torc some men in my homeland wear. I'll need to rest a little first, but tomorrow I could examine the items a little more closely and see if any have a special ability."
”The runes are in the language of my tribe. A name: Ludter, of tribe Varyag. A protective ward, against ill luck and the evil eye. I believe,” he said as he took a look at the torc. ”Something an adult might wear, like the hair rings my clan prefers to mark for significant steps in one’s life.” The thought made the hunter touch his braid where the slavers had torn out the silver ring. He’d have to have it replaced, as soon as he had the funds to spare, but survival came before conforming to traditions. "Its owner must have fallen victim to the same slavers as we. The proper thing to do would be to return it to this Ludter's family, but... the way is long, yes? I don't truly know where this grand city is, but all this desert... the climate is... wrong. I shouldn't have been able to travel from a verdant grass plains to a desert in the span of few steps. That godling and its storm must have carried me far from where I started."
Dounia examined the bundles with relish. She started with the strange cloak. It was so heavy! Turning to Tymythy, she said, "This stuff isn't yours, is it? Do you actually wear these?" She draped it around her shoulders - it smelled distinctly of unwashed boy, and practically squashed her under its weight. "Ugh," she wrinkled her nose, and set it aside. Nobody here would want it.
She happily turned the bandages and kit over to the priestess; she wouldn't know what to do with them. Cyra had taken care of that sort of thing, though she realized now that she should have paid more attention.
Dounia turned the necklace over in her hands, wondering what it was worth. Surely a northern treasure such as this would have worth as a curiosity, if nothing more.
Turning to the traitor's bundle, Dounia was repelled by the blowgun and what she assumed was poison. Looking at Zahra, she said, "That girl was NOT nice at all!" She wrapped the blowgun and poison carefully away, hoping she could at least get a few coins for it.
The lockpicks she recognized, and happily stowed it away with her own kit. It was never bad to have a backup.
**
She listened to Tymythy with rapt attention, sitting cross-legged with eyes wide. "How exciting! Your crow-lord must have brought you here for a reason - maybe it was to help me!"
When Cairee showed them her necklace, Dounia nodded, her suspicions confirmed. "Your Saiph must be another name for the crow-lord! And she brought you all this way for me as well! Wow," she said, stars in her eyes, "Cyra always said I had an important fate, and it looks like I'm finally started on my destined path! I wonder where it will take me!"
Turning to Zahra, she said, "I wonder if you were taken so that I can meet your parents. Are they wealthy, or important? Do they have ties to anybody royal or noble?"
**
Smiling regally, as Saiph the crow-lord-and-lady healed the slight injuries to her wrists and ankles (further evidence that Dounia had been chosen for some wonderful destiny), Dounia curled up on one of the carpets, pulling her scarf down over her eyes, trying to block out the everlasting sun. Why don't people live on the dark side, and work on the light side? she wondered, not for the first time. Still, heat and light notwithstanding, it had been a bit day, and Dounia slept.
Things were a blur and Dounia could feel the wind rushing over her. The air turned a pure sky blue as she burst out of a thick fluffy cloud. The ground was spongy and she looked to her feet. She was standing on an undulating carpet a mile off the ground.
She could see all of Zhayalahmar laid out before her and miles and miles of the desert to the east. She could see all the way to the ocean in the west. The great Masdar’um river looked like a winding brown ribbon.
An arrow shot past her right ear and she could see seven flying carpets chasing her. Each carpet had someone on it … but they all looked like her! They were shooting arrows that split in the sky turning one flight into a dozen.
Laughing wickedly, as she imagined the other girl would have laughed, Dounia zoomed the carpet up and down, left and right, dodging the arrows. "You can try to look like me all you like, but I'm the original!" she cried to the wind, outstripping her doubles.
She was still laughing when she woke up.
Zahra listened politely as Cairee and Tymythy told their stories. At first it all sounded so exciting with tales of far-off places but soon there were far too many details for the young woman to follow and her mind began to wander. Zahra looked down at her nails and realized with quiet glee that the claws had disappeared. Whatever those bad people had done to her had finally worn off.
… Something an adult might wear, like the hair rings my clan prefers to mark for significant steps in one’s life.
Zahra’s attention was drawn back to the conversation as the talk turned to something being worn in the hair. It was then that she realized that they were going through the bundles. Her gaze passed over the items but she didn’t see anything that was of use to her. However, being a merchant’s daughter, she knew most items had some sort of value.
"That girl was NOT nice at all!"
Zahra shook her head sadly, ”Definitely not. I wonder why she was so angry. She probably would have done better if she stayed with us. I doubt she got very far without her stuff and with that mark still on her face.”
**
Turning to Zahra, she said, "I wonder if you were taken so that I can meet your parents. Are they wealthy, or important? Do they have ties to anybody royal or noble?"
Zahra smiled in response to Dounia’s exuberance, ”I think my parents are important but we aren’t royal or noble. We have money but there are people who have more than us so I don't know if we're considered wealthy. My father is a spice merchant. A couple of his blends are quite well-known.”
**
Zahra watched the others settle down to sleep and could feel herself starting to relax as well. However, there were a few things she wanted to do but needed the others to be asleep before it was safe. As soon as the other three were asleep, Zahra looked around to make sure she was alone. Satisfied that no one was awake or observing her, she began quietly casting the most basic of magic to first clean herself, then her companions, and then mend some of their clothing. Even with the bright light above, it didn’t take long for her eyelids to become heavy. She could no longer keep her eyes open and soon she drifted off to sleep.
Her new friends? Where were they? No matter. Home was what was important.
She rushed into the kitchen, strange, it looked more like their first home - tiny, barely two rooms. Her mom was at the table sorting little eggs, the size of a robin’s, of different colours. There was a grouping of light green eggs, crimson red eggs, a clutch of red-browns, light-blue, bright red, slate grey … a single white egg rolled off the table and broke.
She starts crying.
Zahra could hear a faint ringing. She wanted to speak to her mother, to ask why she cried, to calm her, but could she needed to find the ringing. She went into the other room and found herself in the Grand Bizarre.
Her father stood at the centre with people walking about him and ignoring him as he forged a great, heavy chain. The chain wound around the stalls of the bizarre and led back to manacles around his own feet.
Seeing her father filled her with hope at first because he would know how to help mother. Then Zahra saw the manacles and gasped. Why was her father chained? This wasn’t right. She ran over to him and tried to get his attention. ”Father!” But he never lifted his head and he never stopped adding links to the chain he was making. So she yelled all the louder while pulling on his arm,
Zahra jerked herself awake and the café’s courtyard comes into focus. She rubbed her temples as she tried to make sense of her strange dream.
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In his dream, Tymythy wandered through a moon-lit landscape that led him into a cave, one that has not born the footstep of mortal man or beast in long years, judging from all the cobwebs. Somehow, even though he found himself trekking deeper and deeper into the bowels of the hill or mountain, the moon’s light still followed him, casting his shadow before him but lighting the way enough for him to avoid stumbling on the stones and bones underfoot.
Bones. So many bones, from prey and beast both. Was this a lair, then, or a burial ground for the creatures of the wild? Had some primitive tribe piled the stones here, to honor then or offer them to some local spirit of the land? Or had the weather patterns shifted, driving the creatures here to seek shelter… and eventually perish as whatever calamity had driven them together had no abated?
He was still pondering on that question while his steps took him to the heart of the cave, to the roost of a vision of a massive bird, its midnight-black plumage melding into the shadows. His eyes widened as he found himself staring into two enormous orbs of the god’s eyes – his god’s – seeing himself reflected in them.
The god spoke, and its voice filled Tymythy with pride. He had been chosen to act an implement of the great spirit’s will! He! An insignificant mortal, young and untested, shamed by his own actions. And still…
The eyes closed, and he felt the presence of the god fade from the dreamscape, its attention turned into other world and times. Falling to one knee, Tymythy quickly slashed the back of his left wrist with the blade of his spear, making an offering of his own blood to the great spirit in supplication. ”Thank you, Lord of the Black Wings, Wind of Midnight. I will strive to be worthy of your trust,” he whispered, before following the little dark bird – a starling, perhaps the very same that had first shown him the path to the west – out of the cave, back into the moonlit world.
Outside, the silvery light robbed the world itself of color, dividing everything into light and darkness, washing away all the hues but shades of grey, the purest of black and the bright, pure radiance of the moon itself as reflected from the surface of a nearby stream. He spotted the starling, sitting on a branch of a nearby tree, staring at him… no, past him, he realized. Feeling a sudden touch of dread, Tymythy turned around…
… and instead of a hill and the cave he had just emerged, behind him was a vast plains of grass…
… crowned with a single hill, with tooth-like rock formations…
… atop which stood a figure, a pure black shadow in the light of the moon, devoid of details, yet Tymythy could still sense the weight of the figure’s gaze on him, crushing him to his knees. A hand raised to the heavens, and there was a rumble of distant thunder in the distance…
… and with a start, Tymythy sat bolt upright in his makeshift bed of pillows and soft carpet, heart hammering in his chest, feeling cold even under the already-bright light of the sun, his left hand throbbing in pain as his sudden death-grip on the handle of his spear stretched the scar of a half-healed wound at the back of his hand. A wound that had not been there when he went to bed last night…
Some woke in starts and some slowly but the four awoke to the same sun that shone when they fell asleep. Dounia and Zahra had grown used to it. The eternal sun always was. They took serious glances at each other, collected themselves under the awning, then performed their morning rituals.
The coffee house was all but empty as the towers sang out the serious hour of ten - they had slept late. They all cautiously headed back out into the streets of Zhayalahmar.
Now Tymythy-son-of-Stywyrt and Cairee Featherfriend could see the city with some attention for the first time. It was enormous! And crowded! Buildings were shoulder to shoulder. In places the concrete was lacking and showed the straw bale and beam structure inside. Others were made of stacked sandstone with carvings of minotaur heads near the rooves and cats near the cornerstones.
In places a second upper-city sprouted out of Zhayalahmar's architecture (though the way to it was difficult to see). They could see that they were close to the city's lowest point. Far west the buildings were set into a hill side and could be more than one hundred feet higher. The same could be seen of buildings in the south-east.
The people? They were mostly the cultured people of the southern city. Some were the hooded people of the great desert. But you could also see dwarves and grey elves and gnomes, men of Halidor and men of the Urneggi sea ... and men of the far northern continent. One figure in a long white cloak passed by and you would have sworn they had the face of an orange stripped cat.
After the warehouse district came the curved buildings of an enormous circus, block after block of structures arranged in a half mile circle. Zahra knew exactly where she was, the lesser bazar. Where she went with her father when she wasn't cleaning (or learning the secret science).