There was so much to look at that Zahra had a harm time focusing. All the guests were different and therefore fascinating to the young woman. She tried to think of where they were all coming from based on what they looked like or what they were wearing but it became more like she was making up stories in her head rather than knowing facts.
She found the scholars and the humanoid at the end particularly interesting but wasn’t able to place either of them. She suddenly wished that she had made more of an effort to learn more about their host. How did he know all these guests and why were they invited? And this made her wonder why she was invited. Were the others thinking the same about her?
The blade was just a blade, but the walls hummed with magic. Cairee expected as much, but it still almost overwhelmed her. She pulled back, letting the auras blur into each other before disappearing. What are we getting ourselves into?
Cairee stayed close to her friends as they entered the party. She tried to stand tall and appear calm, aware that she was Saiph's representative and wanting desperately to be worthy of the role. When her eyes fell on the humanoid with wrinkly skin and looong animal-esque ears her interest was of course peaked.
Zahra couldn't get a read on the strange man but he seemed lost in thought and hadn't noticed the group noticing him. Cairee tried to size him up and found him likewise hard to read.
To Cairee it seemed as if the movement of the man's ears subconsciously reflected his thoughts. To her, he seemed thoughtful and a little shy. He had an air of nobility - perhaps from what some would consider 'good' schooling. She didn't want to interrupt his reflections, but hoped for an opportunity to speak with him later.
Tymythy found his eyes ignoring the faces of the guards and other visitors and focusing on the weapons they carried – and there was a lot of those to pay attention on. It seemed many of the people here were decked out for war, not for a party where one sought to overawe the other with the amount of riches they wore.
”Are you sure this was a birthday party and not a gathering to choose a new leader of war?” Tymythy murmured, despairing over the number of armed and thus potentially dangerous people he’d have to keep track of. ”I have been on raids where fewer weapons were displayed.”
Now that they were inside, and she'd had a moment to digest the look of the Sir Longears, Dounia was itching to get inside. Hurrying through the foyer, she spared only a glance at the scenic paintings and the statues. She didn't mind art, but if it was too big to be portable, she wasn't really that interested in it. She hurried past the other guests, aiming for the arch that the dwarves went through. "Come on!" she said to the others, her excitement plain to see.
Dounia crossed the room in a rush.
As Tymythy looked about at the weapons of the room he could see, of the couple talking, the man loosened his longsword in the scabbard. He was whispering to his partner ...
... but he was looking at Zahra. He stepped away from the sculpture and his cohort. He looked like he might come at the sorceress. Instead he crossed the room in front of her (and a few feet behind Dounia) with a swagger. As he passed in front of Zahra he threw her a wink and flashed a perfect smile, then turned his eyes to the large eared fellow.
Loud enough for the entire room, "My gods boy, you are the most ridiculous thing I've ever set eyes upon, h..."
Without looking away from the sculpture, "So you haven't looked down lately."
The braggart, confused, looked downward and searched a little. "I don't see what you mean."
The dwarves had stopped at the far exit. The matronly dwarf giggled as the men shook their heads in disapproval of the disturbance.
The large eared man still looked at the sculpture trying to not to be bothered, "Reflect on it a bit and the answer will come to you", taking some pity on the braggart the man turned and offered his hand, "I really didn't come for this. I was just hoping to enjoy a luxurious event. I'm sure the food will be very much worth the time. Come let me buy you a drink. Have you been through yet?"
Slaping the hand away, "The drinks here are free. Have you never been to a party before. Surely you have, but only as the spectacle!" He laughed and looked about the room. His female companion tittered cruelly.
The men in deep blue cloaks started to look edgy. One of the male dwarves called out, "Sir, you are out of line."
Smiling grimly and obviously a little hurt by the braggart's remark, "You are right sir. I don't get invited a lot but I am not one of those who would rather make a visit than a poem, so it suits me just fine."
The braggart shot a quick glance over his shoulder. He was obviously trying to pick a fight and things weren't going the way he wanted. He looked like his pride was building to a climax. "Fool! Buffoon! Grotesque!"
The man's mouth worked before his brain, "You are unkind to yourself but if we are doing introductions - I am Premuroso." His brain caught up with his mouth as he realized he was escalating the situation. "Apologies. A stupid joke. Please let us ..."
The braggart grasped his longsword.
Zahra looked on curiously as she overheard the handsome man say ‘watch this’ while seemingly looking at her. Before she can be flattered by his attention, his intention towards one of the guests became apparent and her curiosity soon turned to unease.
When it looked like the exchange may come to blows, she felt she needed to do something. Stepping in between the two she said, ”Gentlemen, please. This is no way to honour our host’s birthday. Surely such cultured gentlemen,” she looked at Premuroso, ”as yourselves can put aside any perceived slights,” she looked at the braggart, ”for the sake of this celebration.”
”Gentlemen, please. This is no way to honour our host’s birthday. Surely such cultured gentlemen,” she looked at Premuroso, ”as yourselves can put aside any perceived slights,” she looked at the braggart, ”for the sake of this celebration.”
Tymythy followed right on Zahra’s heels, not having forgotten his promise to Haseena to keep the young mystic safe, lending a silent, judging presence to the dragon-blooded sorceress’ words. It would be a lousy reason to insult their host by drawing blood, he thought, as guest-right should obligate their hosts to ensure their guest’s safety and the need of the guests to protect themselves would be a severe blow to the host’s honor… at least, that’s how things should be in a civilized world. Who knew how things were handled in these strange lands? Again, he found himself assuming what he knew from home would be valid here.
So, he held his peace, hoping Zhara’s proven silvery tongue and the kind of attention the young bravo obviously hadn’t sought would encourage him to back off… but in case the man felt only further aggression would salvage his pride… well, Tymythy’s usriev was already in his hands and his eyes were wary for an attempted attack.
His brain caught up with his mouth as he realized he was escalating the situation. "Apologies. A stupid joke. Please let us ..."
Before the braggart could even place his hands on his sword hilt Tymythy's grip on the usriev went from walking to weapon. The butt of the spear/sword hit the floor and gave out a resonant ring in the mostly enclosed room. The midnight-blue cloaks, the braggart, and Premuroso all took notice and hesitated in their actions.
Cairee couldn't help but overhear the exchange of words between the two men, and did her best not to roll her eyes. The Braggart was clearly peacocking - mewing and honking for attention with no real threat behind it (a phrase Tal used that Cairee thought was a little mean, but basically fair given her experience with Peacocks). She assumed he wanted to be stopped. If he'd had any intention of drawing blood he would've struck quietly and without an audience.
When the longsword came out, Zahra and Tymythy stepped forward. Cairee lifted her arms in a 'stay back' gesture and stepped to the side, trying to clear the way. Let the Braggart get himself hurt if he wants, but Cairee wasn't going to let him take down any unsuspecting guests who happened to pass by at the wrong time.
Dounia scuttled aside as the mean human began to insult Sir Longears. The last thing she wanted was to get in the middle of a fight she had no skin in.
Then Zahra turned around and moved back past her, using her fancy words to try and stop the fight. "Oh! We're helping?"
Turning gracefully on one heel, she followed Zahra. Sir Longears had even more fancy words than Zahra, and Dounia broke into a grin. She tried to position herself so that she could trip Mr. Meany up if he made any sudden moves.
Tymythy glowered over Zahra's shoulder.
Dounia snuck up behind the braggart.
Cairee stopped a small group of humans from entering the foyer from outside.
The men in breast plates and deep blue cloaks moved to the arches that lead into the building, one of them went through.
The dwarves formed a circle around the young lady.
Then Zahra stepped between the two.
”Gentlemen, please. This is no way to honour our host’s birthday. Surely such cultured gentlemen,” she looked at Premuroso, ”as yourselves can put aside any perceived slights,” she looked at the braggart, ”for the sake of this celebration.”
Premuroso tightened up like he was waiting to see which way the wind would blow.
The braggart, "Oh Dear Lady, if I have put any damper on your enjoyment of the day I apologize. I only wished to say hello to this display ..." he nodded towards Premuroso "and his tone became disrespectful. And it is disrespect that I cannot brook." He stepped back (nearly stepping on Dounia) and bowed deeply. "Jhohaness Sebasteen Kingsworthy, third marshal of the northern Hassars. May I escort you in?" He put his right arm out with palm facing down waiting for Zahra to place her left on top.
”Kingsworthy? I doubt it,” Tymythy growled at the man who had tried to dishonor their host by instigating a battle. ”The stone beneath our feet is of greater worth – at least it bears its burden without complaint.”
The braggart, "Oh Dear Lady, if I have put any damper on your enjoyment of the day I apologize. I only wished to say hello to this display ..." he nodded towards Premuroso "and his tone became disrespectful. And it is disrespect that I cannot brook." He stepped back (nearly stepping on Dounia) and bowed deeply. "Jhohaness Sebasteen Kingsworthy, third marshal of the northern Hassars. May I escort you in?" He put his right arm out with palm facing down waiting for Zahra to place her left on top.
Zahra gave a tentative smile, glad that violence had not occurred, ”Apology accepted, and since you aren’t from around here I will give you some friendly advice…a simple ‘hello, pleased tp make your acquaintance’ goes over a lot better here in the city than how you chose to say hello. It may go better with less misunderstandings in the future.”
”I am flattered by your offer of an escort but I will humbly decline. You have a guest with you already,” Zahra waved at the young woman, ”and I am very capable of escorting myself. However, I would request that you save me a dance - should there be any dancing of course.” She turned and directed her smile at Premuroso, ”You as well, sir, if you are so inclined.” Zahra continued to try her best to appease everyone while disappointing or insulting no one.
She turned to her friends, ”Shall we continue inside?”
Jhohaness bristled with anger but took a step back after glancing at the cloth covered spear the foreign warrior held. The Hlewmylani was too confident to be tested. He opened his mouth to reply to Zahra with a humorous confusion over her advice. His expression, 'What? Defer to such a creature???'.
The man turned red at Zahra's refusal to take his arm, it was a forgone conclusion to him that he would escort her and never contemplated hearing a 'no thankyou'. But he obeyed. As he returned to his friend you could all hear her laughter from behind her concealing hand.
Premuroso exhaled in relief and spoke out of the side of his mouth, "Sometimes I speak too fast and forget to be more disarming. He might have been rash but I doubt he is untrained."
"I must say, you fence very well for someone without a sword. One word and you had his hand off his weapon, and it doesn't hurt to have someone behind you who can cut with their eyes. Sorry, all of that is meant to say, 'thank you'. And, please, call me Prem."
"Let's take your suggestion and head in before he thinks twice."
The blue-cloaks loosened up and freed the archways. The dwarves went two before and three behind the young lady and her minder and went through.
The four of you followed the dwarves through and Prem followed two yards behind.
The archway opened up into a stadium open to the sun. The stands however were half desolved into sand, or was it the sand was hardening in places to become stone tiles of different patterns??? It was as if an oasis surrounded by dunes collided with a colosseum and half won the battle.
On the highest sections of the stadium to your upper left and upper right were two long crescent tables. To the left a royal contingent. Many of the same women and men in breast plates and deep blue cloaks standing guard. To the right a motley of strange folk stylishly dressed and already deep into food and drink.
All about the stadium were different people from many different heritages, elves, dwarves, teifling, and gnome, to name a few. They milled about on the stands or next to blankets in the sand.
On the far end of the stadium were several large tents and small tables where food and drink could be found.
The dwarves were just to your right walking up a set of steps to the upper bowl (you stand at the south end of the middle bowl) where a herald was calling out the names of new arrivals.
In the middle of the stadium was a sandy dune with a lake. About the lake was lush greenery. Floating twenty feet over the lake was a small island with some short trees and a single marble column at its' centre.
As Cairee stood guard, trying to keep guests away from the possible sight, her gaze fell over the entrance they had just crossed. But outside wasn't the small street of Zhayalamar. It looked more like Issmenadore but there was a striking cliff face in the background. Could it be Halidor? The magics she'd sensed were strong and complex. Could it be a portal? Were guests entering the party from all over Aerde?
Cairee shared her suspicions with the others as they walked through the archway. "If I'm correct, we'll need to be careful that we aren't separated when we leave, or who knows were we could all end up." She turned to Tymythy. "Though, it could be an opportunity to travel a little closer to home. Is that something you'd like to do?" She thought about her own answer to the question. If the door could open onto Issmenadore, would she walk through it? The answer came quickly - no. Saiph had sent her to Zahra and Dounia and Tymythy, and she would not leave them. She also suspected life at the Order would be a little boring after all she'd been through. But perhaps she could arrange a letter be delivered to Tal, letting her mentor know she was alive and well.
Her thoughts were broken when they stepped into a stadium. Not what she was expecting! "I suppose we're here to watch the challenges. I hope they're not too violent." She looked for an entrance to the arena, hoping there would be seats near by. It would allow her access to participants in need of assistance if their challenge didn't go well.
"Let's take your suggestion and head in before he thinks twice."
”Perhaps it was the unworthy one that ended up getting saved and not you,” Tymythy murmured as he followed the others further into the building. He touched his own left ear with a finger, as if pausing for a moment in the process of brushing aside an offending lock of hair – not that there was any on his side-shaved scalp – while his lips twisted into a quick smile, letting Prem know his preparations had not been missed by at least one pair of eyes.
Cairee shared her suspicions with the others as they walked through the archway. "If I'm correct, we'll need to be careful that we aren't separated when we leave, or who knows were we could all end up." She turned to Tymythy. "Though, it could be an opportunity to travel a little closer to home. Is that something you'd like to do?"
It was harder that he liked to admit to fight the sudden stab of homesickness. But no, he would see his home again one day. But not today, nor tomorrow. ”It would be… good… to feel the winds of my home again… but I have still to complete my quest – were I to return in shame my clan would be compelled by tradition to ignore me, and chase me away if I persisted in staying,” he admitted, allowing himself one wistful sigh before returning his attention to the strange place they had been transported to and the people who occupied it.
”But… was that truly an enspelled doorway? Are we somewhere far away? I must admit, this city has shown me so many inexplicable things already I took this stadium existing between townhouses for granted. What gave it away?” Even though magic was to him a mystery – and something taught by the clan elders the responsibility to only the few deemed wise enough to carry the burden responsibly – he would have expected to have felt… something if they were suddenly whisked to spirits know where in the span of a single step.
Dounia stifled a smile as Zahra's fancy words won the day. At least Mr. Meany left. She stuck her hand out towards Sir Longears and said, "Nice to meet you, Prem! I'm Dounia. Would it be terribly rude to ask what...where you're from?" She just barely refrained from asking what he was.
***
Dounia took the talk of magical portals in stride. Those far away places didn't mean anything to her, and she'd already been nearly torn in half when they went to the nighttime half of the city. She didn't understand the distances involved to be impressed by portal magic. If that's even what Cairee witnessed.
As they entered the stadium, Dounia didn't notice the fancy people, or the tents, or even much of the stadium itself. She saw the oasis, and for one, brief moment, she thought, "Home!" A soft gasp escaped her lips.
Of course, it wasn't home. The lake was smaller, the plants were fake, and where was the cavern entrance to her home? But still. It was close, and she hadn't been home in weeks. In a month? A long time. Longer than she'd ever been away before.
She stared at the spectacle, a tear rolling unnoticed down her cheek.
EDIT: Wait, is the island floating in the air?!
Nice setting! Is that a little human for scale that I spy down below?
I must say, you fence very well for someone without a sword. One word and you had his hand off his weapon, and it doesn't hurt to have someone behind you who can cut with their eyes. Sorry, all of that is meant to say, 'thank you'. And, please, call me Prem."
Zahra blushed slightly at the compliment, ”You are too kind, Prem. I am sorry that you were made to feel less than welcome. I hope you know that we do not hold the same opinion. Enjoy the festivities and hopefully we’ll see you again before the day is out. Unless you would like to join us?”
It took all of Zahra’s thought power to not gawk as she passed through into the stadium. She couldn’t believe the size of what they were walking into. She even looked behind her to see the courtyard they had passed through and then looked back at the stadium. She then looked up at the sky.
Cairee shared her suspicions with the others as they walked through the archway. "If I'm correct, we'll need to be careful that we aren't separated when we leave, or who knows were we could all end up." She turned to Tymythy. "Though, it could be an opportunity to travel a little closer to home. Is that something you'd like to do?
Zahra murmured, ”I guess we’ll know if we’re somewhere else when we see whether the sun sets or not.”
This party was way bigger than Zahra had been expecting. There were so many people and so many things going on. She wasn’t really sure where to begin. Did they follow the dwarf contingent? Did they find a seat in the stands? Then she caught sight of the food tents, ”Maybe let’s start by taking a look at the food and drink that is available? And maybe we’ll find out if there is a gift table.”
”Perhaps it was the unworthy one that ended up getting saved and not you,”
Prem smiled bashfully and moved his ears to one side to give Tymythy a glimpse of the duelling dagger and rapier he had hidden. "Maybe so, but you must allow me to be grateful. I've had many run-ins with bullies but I've never come away without some little keepsake."
Zahra blushed slightly at the compliment, ”You are too kind, Prem. I am sorry that you were made to feel less than welcome ... Unless you would like to join us?”
Prem smiled, "I'm sure we'll have time to speak. It is a full day of festivities after all. You should do your introductions first. A little pea-cocking is expected in the beginning (though some keep it up too long). Take your bow and later I will find you for that dance." He bowed deeply and blushed a little in return.
Dounia stifled a smile as Zahra's fancy words won the day. At least Mr. Meany left. She stuck her hand out towards Sir Longears and said, "Nice to meet you, Prem! I'm Dounia. Would it be terribly rude to ask what...where you're from?" She just barely refrained from asking what he was.
Prem pondered what Cairee had said about the portal, "It's very good to meet you Dounia. I was going to say I come from here but we aren't in Ischolt on the northern continent of Eotengearde, are we?" Zahra looked up in the sky and although it was nearly 9 in the morning the sun was high noon. "And let me guess, you aren't speaking flawless Noroan, are you? This is going to be an interesting party. Dounia, my people are few. We're the Panotti from the north and, yes, we all have wings that we also use to hear with." He winked.
-----
One of the heralds from the top of the staircase yelled out,
Five women in evening dress, capes, cloaks, and lavish feathered broad-rimmed hats were curtseying to the herald. Simultaneously, their images could be seen fifty times life size reflected in the lake at the centre of the stadium. The image was facetted so it could be seen from any angle.
As the dwarves came to the top of the stairs the herald called out again.
The matron whispered something to the herald. People at the high tables west and east stood up and clapped, then sat back down again.
One of the heralds looked down at you all expectantly. People started to bunch up behind you.
When the Dwarves were announced their images took the place od the Silken Scroll members. When the competitors were announced their images on the lake focused on them.
Dounia finally notices that there was an island, FLOATING in the SKY above the lake! Tears and homesickness are instantly forgotten. She bounces on the balls of her feet, grabs as many sleeves as she can and drags them forward. "We'll compete! Right?" She turned to the others. "Right? All of us?" She asked the heralds. "Do you need our names or do you know them?" The invitation had been addressed to Zahra, but she fully believed that she, and the others, were somehow known to the herald.
"We aren't in Ischolt on the northern continent of Eotengearde, are we?...And let me guess, you aren't speaking flawless Noroan, are you?"
Cairee had assumed Prem wasn't from Zhayalamar. But it hadn't occurred to her that he, or anyone else, was speaking a different language. "What strong magics bring us all together!" she exclaimed in delight. What a wonderful opportunity to meet and communicate with folks from all over Aerde.
The Heralds announcements and large reflections in the lake caught the Cleric off guard. She barely heard what was said about the group of women being announced, though she did catch sight of weapons in the reflection. "We're going to be...displayed, like that?" Thank Saiph she had purchased the new garment! The thought of her desert-worn faded robes being many people's first introduction to Saiph would have been deeply embarrassing for the young Cleric.
"We'll compete! Right?... All of us?"
"Uh..." Cairee was being swept forward, about to be announced. It was all so overwhelming. Were they expected to compete? Would it be rude not to? Was it dangerous? She looked to Zahra and Tymythy. "Should we?"
... "Do you need our names or do you know them?" ...
The herald was a tall high-elven man with thick curly hair. He was in a billowy white shirt and tight black pants. Over it all was a harlequin robe of white and sky-blue diamond pattern. In his left hand was a scroll in a tube that looked like ivory. To dounia without yelling to the stadium, "I have committed to memory the entire guest list, miss, but I will need to see your invitation."
Introductions? Zahra hadn’t contemplated the fact that they may be announced. She had never been anywhere fancy enough or had enough people that introductions had been necessary. Excited, nervous butterflies erupted in her stomach. ”You have a deal, Prem. I will look for you later and hold you to that dance.” It was nice to already have a friendly, familiar face in this crowd.
—-
When the Sisters of the Silken Scroll were introduced, Zahra turned excitedly to Cairee and Tymythy. ”I heard about them once in the bazaar when I was conversing with a customer. Those are eastern names from near Issmenador. They are Aerthanian but also influenced by Hlewmylani culture. We should definitely seek them out later.”
We're going to be...displayed, like that?"
.
Zahra grinned, ”I hope so! How exciting.”
"We'll compete! Right?"
The sorceress looked less certain as she responded, ”I guess so. Sounds like something you all have been interested in…but I didn’t think we’d have to decide so soon.”
I have committed to memory the entire guest list, miss, but I will need to see your invitation."
Zahra’s eyes practically bugged out of her head as she looked at the herald and then out over all the people and back again. ”That’s amazing! You’ve memorized the entire guest list? That’s absolutely mind boggling.”
An elbow from Dounia brought Zahra back to the task at hand. ”Right, our invitation. I have it right here.” Zahra reached into her evening bag of holding and gracefully withdrew the precious piece of paper. She held it out to the high-elven man so that he could see it. ”And my friends and I would like to compete. I’m not sure if we have to announce that now or if we can sign up later.”
Zahra’s eyes practically bugged out of her head as she looked at the herald and then out over all the people and back again. ”That’s amazing! You’ve memorized the entire guest list? That’s absolutely mind boggling.”
"It is my job Madam." The herald, nose in the air, looked the invitation over in some vague sense of disapproval and some sign of recognition came over his face. He looked at the party, then looked right and left, then he stepped in towards Zahra and whispered.
Very informal, "You don't have to declare now. You can declare any time before the competition starts, which is in about two hours. Many people will declare when it is most dramatic to do so, though most people here don't know what's going on so don't be nervous. Everyone's just acting like they know. Do you have any questions about the competition? Everyone's so afraid of looking ignorant that no one asks."
The human group behind you on the stairs are looking impatient but the herald resumes his arrogant stare, "Quiet down you. You'll get your turn! Unless you'd like to be announced as Mister Frumpy-bottom and Misses Cheats-at-cards." The group shuts-up and starts to look at the floor.
Premuroso is getting announced by the other herald.
----
Once finished with any questions the herald announces you. Your faces appear in the lake.
Oh, Dounia had questions. "But, what about the rest of us? We weren't on the invitation. What kind of competition is it? Is it fighting, or racing, or hide-and-seek, or a spicy pepper challenge? Do people place bets? How do you find your way to work each day? Does she really cheat at cards?! How would you know that?! Where..." It took Cairee's foot coming down hard on her own to get Dounia to shut her mouth.
***
As the herald starts to announce them, Dounia steps forward, grinning and waving to the people already in the stands. It isn't until she's several steps into the stadium that the herald's words register. Shocked, she turns around and would have gone back if Zahra and Cairee hadn't linked their elbows through hers to keep her going. "But, where's Ciriya! And how did he knoooowwww?!"
Oh, Dounia had questions. "But, what about the rest of us? We weren't on the invitation. What kind of competition is it? Is it fighting, or racing, or hide-and-seek, or a spicy pepper challenge? Do people place bets? How do you find your way to work each day? Does she really cheat at cards?! How would you know that?! Where..." It took Cairee's foot coming down hard on her own to get Dounia to shut her mouth.
The herald took a breath and answered quickly, "It was suggested to us by His Radience Raya Hallwyn to research Zahra's companions. It is a six event competition of tests and combat and there is a prize of immense value that goes to the best group. People place private bets as they like. I can't tell you, it's a secret. Yes. Those she's been caught cheating have told me."
Very informal, "You don't have to declare now. You can declare any time before the competition starts, which is in about two hours. Many people will declare when it is most dramatic to do so, though most people here don't know what's going on so don't be nervous. Everyone's just acting like they know. Do you have any questions about the competition? Everyone's so afraid of looking ignorant that no one asks."
Relief shows on Zahra's face and her smile brightens. Her mouth opened to ask the herald about the competition when Dounia's excitement bubbled over in a stream of questions of her own.
She waited for the requested answers and had a few followup questions of her own, "Does everyone in the group have to participate in all six events? Are you able to tell us what kind of events and combat are involved? Do we fight other groups or something like monsters? We brought presents for His Radiance so is there a gift table? In your opinion, what should we do first?"
"And I think we'll wait to declare whether we compete. Thank you so much for your help...I'm so sorry, I never got your name...I would love to thank you by name."
-----
Zahra beamed as they were announced. It made them sound so important. She had no doubt that this day would be very memorable. It almost felt dreamlike as their images were projected and many eyes turned to look.
Not wanting to hold up the line any longer, she linked her arm with her friends and headed for where the herald had directed them to go.
”You can compete with up to six members or as few as one, but I recommend at least four. The solo competitors never make it. The games are deadly and it’s good to have a variety of strengths. If you want to win you’ll need all that you have to give. You must join before the gong is rung in two hours but you can quit after you complete any event. If one team member leaves the entire team defaults. I don’t know what events there are this year … if I did know I couldn’t tell. You won’t be asked to fight other groups though, this I can say.”
“I suggest you go pay your respects to His Radiance first. Gifts may be left at his table. I’m sure he’s curious to meet you. It is his pleasure to meet new people.”
“I suggest you go pay your respects to His Radiance first. Gifts may be left at his table. I’m sure he’s curious to meet you. It is his pleasure to meet new people.”
Zahra nodded and looked quickly around, hoping for some direction as to where His Radiance was situated. "Can you point us in the right direction?"
The herald nodded towards the eastern castle of Gossamer house, a raised section with a saddle-shaped wall behind them. (The western castle mirrored this) A northern stair had a short line-up of guests waiting to give their host their greeting. The south stair had a trickle of guests departing.
The herald added, "People call me Tandyraman, thanks for asking."
One of the heralds from the top of the staircase yelled out, ...
Tymyhty perked up at the names the booming-voiced skald announced, his eyes drawn to the fivesome of women in their feathered hats. And then realized he needn’t have bothered to look without being seen looking as visions of the guests were suddenly projected in the air in the center of the strange oasis-ruin for all to see – indeed, for all attending to be instantly able to connect names to faces if they were so inclined to do.
An elbow from Dounia brought Zahra back to the task at hand. ”Right, our invitation. I have it right here.” Zahra reached into her evening bag of holding and gracefully withdrew the precious piece of paper. She held it out to the high-elven man so that he could see it. ”And my friends and I would like to compete. I’m not sure if we have to announce that now or if we can sign up later.”
...
”Perhaps he should find out the specifics, what particular kinds of challenges these competitions come with,” Tymythy said. It would be good to bring honor to the name of his clan even if words of his deeds would never reach the ears of his people, so far away, but he was much less eager to be goaded into making himself a laughingstock by attempting some foreign sport. ”But I thought this was supposed to be a celebration of birth, not an Aonach Tailteann?” he added, hesitating, as such a festival of sports and challenges brought to his mind the funeral games celebrating the death of a great lord of hosts.
As they moved into the stadium, Dounia said, "Come on, we have to compete! Tandyraman said groups of 4 is the best! We're four! I bet we do great. We should challenge Mr. Meanypants, I bet we do better than him. And did you hear? Tandyraman said I'm from Ciriya! Cyra never told me that. Hey! Cyra is really close to Ciriya. I wonder if that's important. I wonder what they have to eat here. We should find Tandyraman later, he seems really nice. I wonder if he gets a break later. What?!" she asks in annoyance as she receives an elbow to the ribs from one of the others.
Zahra smiled and gave the herald a small curtsy, "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Tandyraman. Thanks for all your help."
As soon as they were done with their introductions, Zahra headed for the north stairs to line up. She laughed at Dounia's excitement. "I see nothing wrong with competing but it probably won't hurt to find out more about the competition before declaring. We can find out more after we give our greetings to His Radiance. And I think it's fantastic that you now know that you're from Ciriya."
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"Miss Zahra Asmar, Praepostora of the Harmattan School. Cairee Featherfriend, Aspirant of the Ospitiumati Order of Saif. Miss Dounia of the Ghali Family of Ciriya. Master Tymythy - son of Stywyrt - son of Lywys, of the Basternae."
Seeing their reflections on the lake was surprisingly affecting. Zahra was glowing, almost regal in her new gown. Dounia looked like an emissary from an important family in her ancient tailored robes, and at such a size her mischievous smirk signalled she was not someone to cross. Tymythy stood tall and serious, a picture of strength and fierce loyalty. Even her own reflection was impressive, hinting at a balance of kindness and power. Have I grown so much?
Cairee was a little nervous at how Herald Tandyraman would introduce her. His research and memory were very impressive. She was grateful when he used her chosen name of Featherfriend, not the family name of Steelheart. It was a small thing, but it managed to loosen some of her anxiety about the party. It was a place that respected who you chose to be rather using identities that had been forced upon them. "Perhaps we should compete," she found herself saying, surprising all of them, herself included.
"And did you hear? Tandyraman said I'm from Ciriya! Cyra never told me that. Hey! Cyra is really close to Ciriya. I wonder if that's important."
Cairee thought back to all Dounia had told them about her family. It wasn't much. "You didn't know where you're from?" What a lovely thought. So much of Cairee's life had been about distancing herself from her family's violent and bloody past (and present). Who would she be if she didn't know where she came from?
Zahra led the four east around the upper bowl to the east raised section. There were six parties waiting with the dwarves just ahead of you again. The party was still receiving people but it seemed there could be between two-hundred and fifty and three hundred people (more than half the attendants at the opera). The size of the party was compounded by the variety of guests.
Before the dwarves was a group of elves in long robes. They wore the strangest masks, stiff fabric in a one foot wide by two foot long rectangle. At the mask's centre was a wooden face sculpture painted in different tones of off-white. They held four foot fronds and gently nodded to each other.
Before them was a group of four humans in very valuable looking leathers. There was obviously a leader, a black haired moustachioed man beamed with a self-satisfied smile. He held a small jewelry box.
There was an old man and woman in heavy ermine furs who seemed unaffected by the heat and definitely looked to be wife and husband. A small party of orcs and half-orcs dressed in elaborated tribal regalia. Before them and at the tables was a group of gnomes who appeared to be wearing stilts which accommodated the long robes they were wearing.
The long crescent table had a rowdy group of humans, tiefling, half-elves, dessert catfolk, and others unknown. Standing at the centre of the table was a person with a trunk of a body, strong round hips, and long flowing red hair. He was laughing and everything about Hallwyn exuded power, confidence, and freedom. He wore robes that had such a style thaat neither said masculine or feminine, a mauve robe suit and riding boots. He received a strange papered gift from the gnomish party and placed it, still wrapped, amongst others.
---
One of the dwarves turned about and looked the group of you over. He addressed Tymythy, "You can't fool me with those robes. You got the smell of the moores all about ya'. Hlewmylanii or my names not Guthan the Leabhar'guarda! Please tell me you're competing! Doesn't look like there's a cunning eye else-wise in this whole hive a beardless boys. Guthan Leabhar'Guarda latch Athoraid, pledged to compete on behalf a me niece, Duil here." The young dwarf turned about and gave a practiced curtsey.
Trying to keep an eye on every guest in the strange indoors-oasis immediately proved a futile task, Tymythy realized, as he came to appreciate the sheer number and variety of people milling about, many of them obviously armed and most of those wearing steel with the easy grace that suggested they knew how to use it if needed. He noted he group of masked elves and beheld them with some particular suspicion, for the fey folk and their almost-mortal kin were not highly favored by the clans of Hlewmylani. Yet those deep-seated grudges paled in comparison to so many other creatures he did not even recognize – spirits only knew how powerful and fickle some of them might be, and what they might consider as slights on their honor?
The human visitors, at least, were a more known quality, as well as the party of orcs, full-blooded and not. He took note of a tattoo of a thorny vine on the obvious leader of the leather-clad humans, and filed the detail in memory. Whether the mark signified something beyond personal taste, he could not tell – he could read a lot from the clan tattoos of his own people, but these local symbols were a mystery to him.
”A tattoo of a thorny vine, perhaps a creeping rose? Does that mean anything to any of you?” Tymythy murmured, when out of earshot of the party of four.
One of the dwarves turned about and looked the group of you over. He addressed Tymythy, "You can't fool me with those robes. You got the smell of the moores all about ya'. Hlewmylanii or my names not Guthan the Leabhar'guarda! Please tell me you're competing! Doesn't look like there's a cunning eye else-wise in this whole hive a beardless boys. Guthan Leabhar'Guarda latch Athoraid, pledged to compete on behalf a me niece, Duil here." The young dwarf turned about and gave a practiced curtsey.
”Your eyes are sharp as the blades your people forge, Guthan Leabhar'Guarda latch Athoraid,” Tymythy answered, trying his best not to insult the dwarf by pronouncing his name at least relatively correctly… although he did bristle a bit at the suggestion that his unfortunately flashy attire was part of some subterfuge. ”Tymyth, son of Stywyrt, son of Lywys, of the Basternae,” he gave his own name, as not to introduce himself after a stranger had given his own name – in so complete a form, even – would be the height of insults. Not that there was any keeping one’s identity a secret in any case, considering the booming voice of the skald presenting the new arrivals, and the gigantic magical projection that came with the announcement.
”I do not intend to hide my origin, but wear these clothes as a sign of respect to the great lord who bestowed me his weapon, for me to wield in his honor. As for competing…” he cast a rueful glance at the ladies, who certainly seemed raring to give the games a go. ”I fear there is little point in trying to resist. It will be a pleasure to meet you on the field of challenge.”
”May I present the ladies Zahra Asmar, Cairee Featherfriend and Dounia of the Ghali,” he continued.
Cairee thought back to all Dounia had told them about her family. It wasn't much. "You didn't know where you're from?" What a lovely thought. So much of Cairee's life had been about distancing herself from her family's violent and bloody past (and present). Who would she be if she didn't know where she came from?
Dounia, pulled back for a moment from the spectacle, shook her head, shayla swaying. "Cyra always said we were from the south, that she crossed the desert with me when I was little." Her face scrunched up as she thought hard. "I didn't recognize the name at first, because I had been pronouncing it wrong in my head. But I've read about Ciriya. It's dwarves and elves out there, all mining I think." Her mouth dropped in an expression of shock, and she turned to Tymythy. "Your sheath thingy! Wasn't that from a Ciriyan smithy?"
As for why Cyra lied to her all those years, she could only guess.
Dounia stared at everything, sometimes in wide-eyed wonder, sometimes remembering that she should be playing it cool. She had thought the city was cosmopolitan, with the myriad of races and cultures walking through the streets. But this party was a like a super-concentrated version - surely every race, culture, and type of person was represented here at least once.
She grinned at the gnomes on stilts, and wondered if they were trying to disguise their stature, or if it was a practical choice in a place made for taller beings.
As they got closer to the table, she saw the red-haired person. Turning to Zahra, she whispered, "Is that him?"
"Your sheath thingy! Wasn't that from a Ciriyan smithy?"
”Speaking of the competition… do you know what kinds of challenges we should expect? I know what would be part of the funeral games of my people, but I am a stranger to these lands still,” he asked Guthan, as the dwarf seemed courteous enough.
”And if you would… have you had business in Divolgatia? For you to mark me as a Hlewmylani despite these clothes, you need to have more than a passing familiarity with my people, but your kind were rare visitors on my clan’s lands. Unfortunately so, for metal worked by dwarven hands is valued higher than its weight in gold!”