Dounia decided not to spend a great deal of time examining the door. There might be time for that tomorrow morning before the challenge. Instead, she looked around for the Sisters of the Silken Scroll. She spotted them standing alone, heads together, talking quietly.
Eating quickly, she hurried over to them. "Hi! I'm Dounia, from the Blackbirds? You did great in your challenge! Can I ask you a few questions?"
Dounia watched two of the 'Sisters' from a distance sitting by a tent flap and talking to people unseen behind the canvas. When she came closer she was surprised to see only one other team member with them. Of the five, one was no where in sight. The last was sitting on the other side of the tent alone, staring off into space.
... Eating quickly, she hurried over to them. "Hi! I'm Dounia, from the Blackbirds? You did great in your challenge! Can I ask you a few questions?"
Simone Ghastwith had a long course braid of almost blonde hair, wore a long off-white cloak and was girded with twin scimitars (one slightly shorter than the other). Under her cloak was a white breastplate which seemed articulated for better mobility. Her arms were decorated with scarification tattoos in rows. She had a hard brow and plastered-on angry expression.
Taryth Moorsdaughter wore evergreens and upon her neck, the back of her hands, and on her stockinged legs were ink drawings. She wore no armour and her clothes were light and free.
Candor Rafinmodor wore a suit of leathers in deepest purple, like a too ripe plumb. Her shortbow was strapped tightly to her back and in every corner of her clothes was the pommel of another dagger.
Simone, "How would you know how we did?!"
Candor leaned into her teammate, "The scoreboard."
Taryth, "That was some cold work with the manticore. Yeah, sure you can ask questions."
Taryth's words caught Dounia by surprise. "You were out in time to see that? We didn't get to see anything. We had to walk for hours to get to the exit, and apparently that was so boring that we lost points." She didn't try to keep the trace of bitterness from her voice.
Gesturing to the doors, she continued, "Did you see that our door changed after we came out? There's a new picture on it, a hydra, I think. Apparently the challenges keep getting harder."
Glancing over at the one sitting alone, Dounia said, "Is she okay? Where's your other friend?"
"I know that the challenge is going to change, but your door is still a mirror, so maybe it'll still be sort of the same? Can you tell me what happened in there? You don't look injured." She unconsciously rubbed the area where the spine had pierced her.
"You were out in time to see that? We didn't get to see anything. We had to walk for hours ..."
Simone didn't look at Dounia, "good"
Taryth, "Don't beat yourself up. You made good time. You were still in Faerie see. My bet is the other challenges will be back and forth to the prime material plane."
Candor (to Taryth), "We'll have to do that challenge in under eighty-six minutes."
Taryth (back to Candor), "Eighty-five minutes twelve seconds."
-
"Did you see that our door changed after we came out? There's a new picture on it, a hydra, I think. Apparently the challenges keep getting harder."
Simone, "I doubt that one will."
Candor (urgently to Simone), "The trap challenge is going to be a problem."
Simone (directly to Candor), "You can handle it. Keep to the plan we block Perdition if we can and day three we do traps. What's your next door kid?" She turned to Dounia.
Taryth added quickly after, "A chimera. The new picture is a chimera. It's Dawnyah isn't it?"
_
Glancing over at the one sitting alone, Dounia said, "Is she okay? Where's your other friend?"
Simone, "Pattallia's fine, leave it!"
Candor, "Pattallia just needs a little time. Alliss is resting."
_
"... your door is still a mirror, so maybe it'll still be sort of the same? Can you tell me what happened in there? You don't look injured."
Simone looked Dounia directly in the eye. She took a step forward and she was clearly the largest and strongest of the team, "Really?! Well you don't look like you faced off with a mantichore eith..."
Candor stepped in front of her teammate, "We don't know what happened. Listen, we should take after Alliss and get some rest. You should too." As they started to walk away she turned back again and stepped a little closer. "It was different for each of us. We're still trying to figure out what happened really. It was ... personal. Hey, some of the teams have found a strange silver pin of some kind. You get lucky?"
Yay'ya stretched and yawned, "I don't think I can stay up. Only competitors have been invited to the Remembrance. Better start fresh tomorrow." She stood and with little ceremony headed to her room. "If you need me I'm staying in the room with the painting of what looks like a satyr and a sylph getting married fates! I hate that door."
Prem stayed and tried to read you all. He giggled and opened his mouth, "There once was thug from Moethewhale, Who by six drunk elves busted outta'jail ..."
From behind him came a grey-haired, or furred, creature that looked like a cat-man. His body had dark tiger-like stripes and, although his hot weather vestiture looked stylish and fine, his fur looked (for lack of a better word) scruffy. You remember him from the table of hooligans when you greeted Hallwyn this morning.
He put his hand on Prem's shoulder and gently but firmly moved the panotti to one side. He looked down on the sitting Blackbirds, "Listen here. I have good money on you all. Tell me right up front, am I backing the wrong people?"
Candor (urgently to Simone), "The trap challenge is going to be a problem."
Simone (directly to Candor), "You can handle it. Keep to the plan we block Perdition if we can and day three we do traps. What's your next door kid?" She turned to Dounia.
Taryth added quickly after, "A chimera. The new picture is a chimera. It's Dawnyah isn't it?"
Dounia corrected her pronounciation. "Dounia. Right, chimera, that's what Cairee said. She's the one with the orange hair. Her siblings are the asshoIe twins. I get those two mixed up - all those extra heads. The hydra that is, not the twins." She realized she was starting to babble, and shut her mouth. Then she opened it again.
"Why are you trying to block Perdition? Because they're winning so far? I don't know what door we're going for next - I haven't talked to the others. Maybe that one that robed guys couldn't get into. Seems pretty hard already, we should probably not wait on that one. Are you guys good with magic? Zahra's our witch, but she's still learning."
As they started to walk away she turned back... "It was different for each of us. We're still trying to figure out what happened really. It was ... personal. Hey, some of the teams have found a strange silver pin of some kind. You get lucky?"
Dounia digested what the plum-garbed woman said, then grinned when she mentioned the key-part. Pulling it from her pocket, she said, "Yeah! It was in the manticore mouth. I assume that's the 2nd secret goal? We missed our first one. I examined it earlier - I think it's meant to work together with more pieces. Is yours exactly the same?"
She held it firmly between them, shielding it with their bodies. It was clear she was expecting the other woman to show her theirs - it hadn't occurred to her that somebody else might be holding on to it.
Dounia rejoined her group just as Yoyoya was leaving. She nodded goodbye to her, then sat with the others. She was about to tell them about the scoreboards when a familiar cat-man approached.
He put his hand on Prem's shoulder and gently but firmly moved the panotti to one side. He looked down on the sitting Blackbirds, "Listen here. I have good money on you all. Tell me right up front, am I backing the wrong people?"
Dounia grinned. "That depends. Are you betting on losers? If so, don't put your money on us!"
... "Why are you trying to block Perdition? Because they're winning so far? ..."
Simone, "They're the ones to beat."
"I don't know what door ... Maybe that one that robed guys couldn't get into ... Are you guys good with magic? Zahra's our witch, but she's still learning."
Taryth stared Dounia in the eye.
Taryth sounded snooty but well-meaning, "Magic? The secret science is so impossibly large, so unfathomably complex, so perfectly simple that everyone is 'still learning'. Don't worry about us though. We have the old gods on our side." Candor and Simone looked to the floor, touched their foreheads and then their hearts and looked up again.
"Yeah! It was in the manticore mouth. I assume that's the 2nd secret goal? We missed our first one. I examined it earlier - I think it's meant to work together with more pieces. Is yours exactly the same?"
She held it firmly between them, shielding it with their bodies. It was clear she was expecting the other woman to show her theirs - it hadn't occurred to her that somebody else might be holding on to it.
Candor didn't reach out to touch it but examined it with her eyes only. "Alliss has ours. She's 'working' on it now. Trying to figure it out. But yours looks different. The shaft of ours is shorter but has a larger diameter. The toothy flanges are alike but not the same. Same material though. I think you're right about it being the second goal though."
Yay'ya stretched and yawned, "I don't think I can stay up. Only competitors have been invited to the Remembrance. Better start fresh tomorrow." She stood and with little ceremony headed to her room. "If you need me I'm staying in the room with the painting of what looks like a satyr and a sylph getting married fates! I hate that door."
Prem stayed and tried to read you all. He giggled and opened his mouth, "There once was thug from Moethewhale, Who by six drunk elves busted outta'jail ..."
From behind him came a grey-haired, or furred, creature that looked like a cat-man. His body had dark tiger-like stripes and, although his hot weather vestiture looked stylish and fine, his fur looked (for lack of a better word) scruffy. You remember him from the table of hooligans when you greeted Hallwyn this morning.
He put his hand on Prem's shoulder and gently but firmly moved the panotti to one side. He looked down on the sitting Blackbirds, "Listen here. I have good money on you all. Tell me right up front, am I backing the wrong people?"
Zahra looked puzzled when Yoy'ya mentioned that she didn't like her door. Was there something about the picture that reminded her of something unpleasant? Was the picture ugly? Had she seen it before and not had a good experience? But before she could ask their patron about it, she was gone.
Prem's rambling about a thug and drunk elves wasn't much easier to understand. The sorceress was beginning to think that she was overtired and unable to make sense of things people were saying when they were approached by the tiger-cat-man.
He reminded her of one type of customer that she had seen in the lesser bazaar who always made sure that they wrung the most out of every coin. Immediately she slipped into merchant daughter mode. A smile lit up her face, "Thank you for your support! It is someone truly wise, who has discerning taste, that recognizes worth when others do not." She pointed to each of them in turn, "You probably know who The Blackbirds are but just in case you do not, we are Tymythy, Cairee, Dounia, and I'm Zahra. Who do we have the pleasure of meeting? I recognize you from earlier today but never caught your name."
A smile lit up her face, "Thank you for your support! It is someone truly wise, who has discerning taste, that recognizes worth when others do not." She pointed to each of them in turn, "You probably know who The Blackbirds are but just in case you do not, we are Tymythy, Cairee, Dounia, and I'm Zahra. Who do we have the pleasure of meeting? I recognize you from earlier today but never caught your name."
Initially bristling at the tiger-man’s doubting words, Tymyhty had intended to match Dounia’s words with none of the humorous tone – they were fighting for their reasons, not for anyone’s amusement as far as he was concerned - but then Zahra got on the man’s case and Tymyhty settled back, eating mechanically while keeping one eye on their visitor, sizing the man up.
Once it became clear the feline was not there to try out the team’s mettle in any sort of personal challenge of strength the hunter allowed his gaze to wander between bites. He was looking for the group of orcish champions, as he was interested in matching tales with the warriors who had also completed a combat challenge on their first day.
Dounia grinned. "That depends. Are you betting on losers? If so, don't put your money on us!"
The grey cat widened an eye and turned to see the approaching Dounia who had arrived a little late t the conversation. "There are losers and then there are losers. I'm trying to figure out what sort of losers you are."
"It is someone truly wise, who has discerning taste, that recognizes worth when others do not ... Who do we have the pleasure of meeting? I recognize you from earlier today but never caught your name."
The cat considered Zahra's words, "Mmmmmm, never been accused ov being wise bevore, or ov having taste. You are meeting Nadj Veladat and can call me Nadj, and you remember me. Well, that's keen. Your manners, your manners are both practiced and sincere. I see why people talk."
"Perhaps you can tell me if the little one here" (he indicated Dounia) "Cannot. What are you here vor? What are you trying to win at? Do you want the wish? Or are you here vor something else?"
_
Tymythy could spy the orcs eating in a relaxed manner and looking sated. They must have been eating all day. They were sitting back and talking to each other with an ease. From a distance, Tymythy could see Batbayar, the more than middle-aged orc he took for father figure, was badly wounded in many places. None of the team seem to have gone untouched, in fact.
But of all the contestants Tymythy could see, it was only The Bonds of Gruumsh that seem to be enjoying themselves.
"Perhaps you can tell me if the little one here" (he indicated Dounia) "Cannot. What are you here vor? What are you trying to win at? Do you want the wish? Or are you here vor something else?"
Zahra exuded a welcoming warmth as she conversed with Nadj. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. It's always good to have a name to put with the face."
She looked serious for a moment while she pondered his questions. "Initially we came because it was a great honour to be invited by His Radiance. I wanted to meet him and hopefully make a good impression, given his reputation." She looked at the others, "I can't speak for everyone but I know that for me, I'm trying to prove myself, to others and to myself. I'm also trying to protect those I care about by doing well here."
"With regards to the wish I think anyone who tells you that they don't want the wish is probably deceiving themselves if they're sincere, or deceiving you to make a good impression by showing how selfless they are. Such a prize could be life changing and we would not turn it aside when we win."
Zahra thought about why he would be asking such things and she added, "If you are wondering about how motivated we are, I can assure you that we are all highly motivated in our own way. We will do whatever is in our power to win."
"I can't speak for everyone but I know that for me, I'm trying to prove myself, to others and to myself. I'm also trying to protect those I care about by doing well here ... I can assure you that we are all highly motivated in our own way. We will do whatever is in our power to win."
Nadj nodded and sat down on a nearby chair, "Ov course. You want to prove yourselv. You must prove yourselv! You have, how is it said, hit the ground running. 'He' is gone and people are looking for his heir.
He leaned in , "You are alarmed. Don't worry. Only a vew ov us know about your ancestor. Do you know, I met him once. When I was young. Silimiel. By the heavens, he was old but still so powervul. To walk in his presence was to know fear and majesty. Almost a god unto himselv.
The old cat seemed open to reminisce.
"Yes, I will keep my money on you vor now. Just remember, there are more valuable things to win than wishes."
Nadj stood and smiled under his cat-fur lip and departed.
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Dounia was powerless before those powerful eyes. Feeling almost hypnotized, she said, "Zahra is afraid of the magic door because it might be all on her. But I think we should do it soon. I like the look of the trap door, but I'm super good at that sort of thing, so we can wait on it. Maybe we should do that riddle door next, come to think of it. Sounds hard, and to be honest, my team's not that brainy. I mean Zahra is powerful and super nice and charming, but not the sharpest claw on the dragon. Tymythy is clever in his own northern barbarian type of way. I guess Cairee - she worships Saiph - is pretty smart. Not sure if she's good at riddles, though." Suddenly realizing that she was talking too much, she shut her mouth with an audible snap.
**
Dounia watched the women's obeisance, and asked, "Which old gods? Where are you from?"
Dounia listened carefully to the description of the other teams "rod", and filed it away for later. She wondered if they'd find that same one at the mirror door, or if the pieces were different every time.
**
The old cat seemed open to reminisce.
Cairee's eyebrows lifted - how old was the tabaxi? She wanted to ask, but didn't want to be rude. Instead she said, "That sounds incredible. Could you tell us more? I've never even seen a dragon, and I don't think I can even imagine it."
Dounia watched the women's obeisance, and asked, "Which old gods? Where are you from?"
Tarythy, "What? Say their names? Invoke them here?! What horrible chaos they could wreck upon the doors of Hallwyn." She looked about the arena with imagination and wonder.
"I speak of the first ones, before the fall of elves and the forging of dwarves. The keepers of the laws of old along with my master, Lord of Retribution who's judgement is a knife's edge, raising the faithful with lavish reward and punishing the weak of heart with fates just as lavish."
She came closer to Dounia, "Tell me little sister, do you have the heart to know the old ones, to look upon their majesty. They could bear you to heights you never dreamed. Would you like to sign the silken scroll???"
As the ladies busied themselves buttering up the feline investor candidate, Tymythy excused himself and instead walked over to the family of orcish contestants, noting their apparent ease – something Tymyhty could only hope to manage in the circumstances, with frivolously wielded magic lurking in every corner and hiding behind every door. It was, after all, the mark of a veteran warrior to be able to relax and rest when the opportunity presented himself, even or especially on the eve of another battle.
”Bonds of Gruumsh. Tyerror Ni-Grumshulkhan. You wear your wounds like the badges of honor they are,” Tymyhty said as greeting, thumbing a hand balled in fist over his heart, hoping the orcs would not take his attempts of appreciation as slights or insults – he might know a bit of their language but it wasn’t like he had exactly mingled with their eastern kin and knew all their customs… particularly as these Grumshulkhan seemed to regard the orcish tribes he knew as fallen kin.
”I hear you faced your share of challengers behind your door? Care to share tales of your exploits, as it seems we won’t be facing the same foes when it is our turn to try that door and you don’t need to worry granting an advantage to your competitors.”
Most of the orcs became quiet and their cross-table banter ceased. An unwelcoming feeling filled the air. Tyerror looked about at his folk and stood decisively, walked over to Tymythy and brought his head forward into a powerful head-but.
The wave of pain dazed the young warrior. He wavered on his feet, stepped back slightly and balanced himself. Tyerror watched to see if the spearman would fall and, seeing that he wouldn't, then looked back at the others.
Batbayar, "What do you think, Galhagch? This is your blooding. This one knows enough not to fall over. Do we talk with him?"
The young orc Khol, aka Galhagch which Tymythy knew to mean 'Firewalker', appraised the human before her. She seemed tired of everything having to be a test. "Yes, if he talks first?"
Batbayar, "Is that a question."
She repeated, "We talk but only if he tells us about the silver rod." Batbayar smiled, and with his smile Tyerror turned to look Tymythy in the eye. He slapped him on the shoulder and pulled out chair. "Sit, Tymythy Blackbird." The mood became jovial once again and the family of orc went back to cross-talking. It seemed their habit to have several conversations at the same time.
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"That sounds incredible. Could you tell us more? I've never even seen a dragon, and I don't think I can even imagine it."
Nadj looked serious as he brushed his lap like he was dusting himself off and considered the young cleric.
”Few have and fewer could imagine. I could not do it justice in words.”
He got a look like he was about to tell a tale to a group of younglings as he stared into the eyes of each woman in turn.
”I was just the age to join in raids. My people then were desert people, you see. We had no crops and no land to put them on if we did. We weren’t the Ma’habwoo’alqitat , the ‘Tabaxi’ as you say, who live on the mountain slopes. There were no low fruit-bearing trees or mountain streams. We scrounged and stole and fought for what we had.
”But our captain died and a warrior named Alafaah rose up and stood in his place. Alafaah was, to the end, as bad a soul as could be birthed. He took us on deeper and deeper raids, forced us to fight for our lives, to kill without need. He led us against people who could not fight and he set us against other bandits. He sparked a war between thieves that would blaze through the eastern desert.
”And in my youth I thought it was glorious! I didn’t know what glory was … not for another few days.”
He licked his lips like there was still food on his whiskers.
”It was in the year of the hawk and the beginning of deserts winter. Alafaah had us tracking an orienteering group. My brother, Mahjabwn, a tracker, was certain it was desert gnomes. ’Why follow these scavengers. They will have nothing.’ Alafaah beat Mahj’ so hard that some had to stay behind and tend him.
”Not me of course. I cursed my brother for a fool and marched to glory.” The regret was there but a little distant as was the memory.
”That is when the old woman appeared. She looked like one of those wind trackers, the Latronites but in a silver cloak, and she was standing in our way. She advised us not to go that way. A desert storm was coming. Alafaah laughed at her and approached. She said then ’The gnomes are out of your reach, Alafaah.’ She knew his name! She knew what we were after. We, all of us, stopped in our tracks.
”But not Alafaah. He bore his claws and loomed over the old woman. He lashed out!
”Now, I have seen Alfaah fight! His name means viper and he has earned it! But that day he fell dead before he could lower his first paw. One of the older warriors said to me, he saw the old woman strike Alafaah as many as six times. I could hear from a distance the breaking of his bones. With mine own ears.
”We other warriors turned and began hiking back, and with haste. No matter how vigorously we marched the old woman was behind us, just a few yards behind. What would she do to us should she catch up?!
”That is when the storm hit. That is when we found out what she would do!
”You see, this old woman could have caught up to us at any time. Killed us as easy as she did Alafaah. She knew the storm was coming. When the sands struck we thought it would be our deaths just as well. But the sands stopped, all was black. One of us, Alhawow the hunter, risked lighting a torch … miracles!
”We were under a pair of great leather wings, so large they could have encompassed a wagon and horses. Behind us a wall of scales. We wondered and trembled in fear and praised our saviour. I chanced it. So young, I reached out and touched the scales, touched the belly of Silimiel. He was cold as ice and as hard as corundum. Every scale a great white ruby. We seven warriors stayed like that for hours as the dragon weathered the storm for us, until, exhausted, we slept.”
”When we woke the great one was gone. An old woman’s tracks led away from our spot, our crater of sand with a rim eight feet high. We went back to the others and abandoned the desert to look for work in the city.”
Nadj sat back and let his story sink in.
untrained
trained
Dounia took an involuntary step back at the fire in Taryth's voice.
Dounia had not heard of such gods, not in any mention of faith, nor in any tales or folklore. Never has a traveler or a merchant mentioned such a thing.
She did notice similarities of accent and manners to Cairee though. These women were from Eusabiona, south of the great forests there.
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"You are alarmed. Don't worry. Only a vew ov us know about your ancestor. Do you know, I met him once. When I was young. Silimiel. By the heavens, he was old but still so powervul. To walk in his presence was to know fear and majesty. Almost a god unto himselv.
Unadulterated delight lit up Zahra's face. She clapped her hands together under her chin, leaned in, her eyes sparkling. "You met him?!? What was he like? What did you talk about?" The questions spilled out of Zahra like a bubbling spring of excitement. She didn't really understand it at the time but part of the reason she was asking so much about Silimiel was because she wanted to know if she was anything like him.
She had never listened to someone so intently in her life. Zahra hung on every word Nadj spoke as he told them about his encounter.
...”That is when the old woman appeared. She looked like one of those wind trackers, the Latronites but in a silver cloak, and she was standing in our way. She advised us not to go that way. A desert storm was coming. Alafaah laughed at her and approached. She said then ’The gnomes are out of your reach, Alafaah.’ She knew his name! She knew what we were after. We, all of us, stopped in our tracks.
Zahra gasped.
”But not Alafaah. He bore his claws and loomed over the old woman. He lashed out!
”Now, I have seen Alfaah fight! His name means viper and he has earned it! But that day he fell dead before he could lower his first paw. One of the older warriors said to me, he saw the old woman strike Alafaah as many as six times. I could hear from a distance the breaking of his bones. With mine own ears.
The sorceress looked solemn but she was not sad at Alafaah's demise. He seemed to have caused a lot of pain and strife in his life and he finally met justice.
...”We were under a pair of great leather wings, so large they could have encompassed a wagon and horses. Behind us a wall of scales. We wondered and trembled in fear and praised our saviour. I chanced it. So young, I reached out and touched the scales, touched the belly of Silimiel. He was cold as ice and as hard as corundum. Every scale a great white ruby. We seven warriors stayed like that for hours as the dragon weathered the storm for us, until, exhausted, we slept.”
"He saved you," she whispered. Zahra thought about how amazing it would be to be able to help people like that. If she could accomplish just a fraction of what Silimiel had done, she would do a lot of good.
"Thank you, Nadj. Thank you so much for sharing this with me, with us. I feel a bit closer to him, if only for a moment."
Caught by surprise by the headbutt, Tymythy barely managed to tuck in his chin so he took the blow on his forehead, rather than have his nose smashed flat by the fierce attack. He reeled, pain exploding like a burst of stars in his eyes, but he managed to keep on his feet and recover… apparently well enough to satisfy the group.
”You hit harder than that bloody manticore,” he grunted, turning his head to spit blood on the floor, an offering to the spirits spontaneously given, as he found he had bit the inside of his cheek. Turning the grimace into a smile, he sat down on the offered seat and accepted a flagon that was trust his way, drinking deep.
”The silver rod,” he mused after a moment, once the raucous conversation ebbed for a moment. ”Not much to share there. About this long,” he held his palms apart to illustrate, ”with two metal shapes like wings in one end, held back by tiny springs, with a hook shape on the other end. A piece of a larger thing, more likely, to be joined in with other pieces hidden in the other challenges. Not that this one was truly hidden, presented as it was by the portal out of the challenge, inside the open mouth of a statue that practically invited attention from us. As for what the thing all put together will be for… spirits only know, and our host, of course.”
”The silver rod ... As for what the thing all put together will be for… spirits only know, and our host, of course.”
Jad, the old woman and apparent adviser of the group cursed, "We have missed our first piece then! And it must have been nearly laying out in the open."
Khol 'Firewalker' looked down at her lap and cursed silently.
Jad, "What is this!? Galhagch? Beaten?"
Batbayar, "My proud one, remember, there is before a fall and there is after. Both are the kiln of your strength. Just because a thing is done does not mean a thing is over. Remember what we taught you of the civil strife between Vohk and Bharbas? How the powerful family of Vohk were eaten away from the inside by their own complacency?"
Khol, "The Vohk clan was broken and Logreth, allied with Bharbas became the new clanhead."
Batbayar, "Yes, but do the scattered exiles of Vohk hide in the shadows? No, they make new allies, they look for their lost son and daughter, they heat the kilns and rebuild their war chest. That is strength, a strength that must one day be reconned with. So, what do we do?"
Khol was a little energized, "We find the other silver rods and make a substitute for the one we missed. Or we find tools to take its' place. Or we win the missing rod through 'other' means."
Batbayar looked proud.
Jad called to Tymythy, "You were wounded by the beast and then you were healed. Your miracle woman is human but the blessing had an elvish 'taste' to it. Why does a human call to an elvish god?"
-
Batbayar, "You have done as Khol asked, Tymythy Blackbird. It is our turn or be cursed as dealbreakers.
"It seems you must get through the six gates as quickly as possible. They are heavy but not immovable. The gates open to a short hallway which opens into an arena. A mirror to this arena but closed off, with no stands. In the arena are six arches: the one you enter through, an exit, and four others.
"The four others contain creatures who are released in a timed fashion. I think every few minutes one is released. It is a much shorter challenge then the one you had. But save your breath. You must withstand them all."
The orcs fell into conversation and Tymythy was welcome to stay until the dwarven service.
Jad called to Tymythy, "You were wounded by the beast and then you were healed. Your miracle woman is human but the blessing had an elvish 'taste' to it. Why does a human call to an elvish god?"
”Why call upon any god, when the spirits of the land and your own ancestors can hear your pleas, and unlike gods, who are of the heavens, they are of the earth like us mortals?” Tymyhty answered, shaking his head in genuine puzzlement. ”But. She call her Saiph. And they answer, with power that flows true. Anything beyond that is a matter between her and her god, and no business of a simple warrior like me.”
"It seems you must get through the six gates as quickly as possible. They are heavy but not immovable. The gates open to a short hallway which opens into an arena. A mirror to this arena but closed off, with no stands. In the arena are six arches: the one you enter through, an exit, and four others.
"The four others contain creatures who are released in a timed fashion. I think every few minutes one is released. It is a much shorter challenge then the one you had. But save your breath. You must withstand them all."
Tymythy nodded seriously as he listened. The orcs’ tale didn’t add much to what they had already learned, but then again, he had not come here to spy, or to glean an advantage – no, a simple conversation with likeminded warriors was what he had longed for, in the midst of all the high lords and wielders of fell mystical powers. Although he hadn’t expected to be almost floored by their “greeting”. Although… were he to mingle with warriors of other clans during a high meet, he would have expected some form of challenge before being accepted. So, it was his own fault for not being prepared.
The serious matters now concluded, the young hunter was pleased enough to spend the remaining time before the memorial service exchanging boasts and stories of past battles.
It was late in the arena of Hallwyn, the Marid of Daw'alnihar, when a sound could be heard coming from the middle bowl. CLACK CLACK ... CLACK CLACK There was a line of dwarves dressed in crimson vestments. Under the vestments were shirts of flame red. Under the the shirts were shifts of orange. The vestments were long enough to drag on the ground as the dwarves stepped, stopped, stepped, stopped, in time with the clacking. Their robes looked to be burning in the torch-staff light of the arena.
Out front was Guthan Levargarda. He held two great wooden rods which he smacked together like he was sharpening a butcher's knife. His face was stone with no sign of joy or sorrow.
Behind him was Grownya Lar. She was bearing two rods on her shoulders. The rods in turn bore a canvas stretcher and the stretcher bore the body of Loo Gemynd. The dead form looked twice as heavy as its' living predecessor but you wouldn't know it from the face of Grownya.
The other end of the stretcher was held up by Caydren Actreo. From a distance and in the torchlight you would swear Caydren's face was wet.
Behind Caydren walked the matron Briochstuc and her ward Duil. Hand in hand Duil tried as best as she could (and succeeded well) in following Brio's lead.
Finally, Roshynduv Gemaylan followed at the back holding a torch-staff before her.
Tandyraman stood on a high place and called out. Although he didn't seem to be shouting, his voice carried, "The Warriors of Dun Leummor request that only competitors join them for the service for Loo Gemynd of Latch Athoraid.”
-
The entirety of the Perdition’s Cavaliers was quick to follow the procession. Anything they did the Hazard Guard (those that were able to join) were present for. Only one of the scholars joined, a man named Trismegistus who had some elven blood. Arnie and Mar were there and even appeared to have changed and washed for a ceremony.
Simone Ghastwith of the Sisters of the Silken Scroll seemed to come out of nowhere and followed the other contestants from a distance.
None of the orc group moved.
Zahra watched the dwarves enter the arena curiously. She admired their stoicism as she was fairly certain she'd be an inconsolable mess should she ever lose anyone important to her. At least she chose to believe they were being stoic rather than heartless, especially when she was fairly certain that Caydren's face was wet.
As soon as Tandyraman made his announcement, Zahra got to her feet and began to make her way down to fall into line with the procession. She knew that all the Blackbirds were of the same mind in this and so she didn't wait to see if they would join her, she just knew they would.
She waited solemnly with the others to see what would be asked of them next. Did they just stand in honour of Loo or would they be asked to participate in some manner? Whatever was asked of them, she would readily do to show respect for Loo.
Guthan led everyone through the arena, up the southern steps, and into the foyer. When he got got to the doors he paused, stopped his clacking and bowed his head. He stayed that way for two minutes.
Tandyraman, who had come as well, assured everyone, "Please remain calm. The proper tributes to the lord and lady of these lands have been paid and all will be safe. But I urge you, should anyone be there to meet us, the slightest insult could result in terrible punishment. Accept no gifts, especially food. And above all else do not leave the great circle." Then he opened the front gate right of centre to expose a night time wilderness of soft grass and softwood trees and a clearing of sandy earth.
You could hear Guthan exhale as he stepped forward once more, now followed directly by Tandyraman and then the others.
Not far from Gossamer House, not even three hundred feet, was a circle of four standing stones at about eight feet tall and more than a score smaller stones of little more than a foot protruding. There was a set of three stones as well that made a kind of posts-and-lintel doorway. At the centre of the stones was a low stone slab. Upon the slab was a neat log-cabin stack of long wood made with lots of breathing space. The entire arrangement was four feet tall.
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With Zahra leading, Tymyhty followed the other Ravens to find their place in the procession. He stiffened noticeable once the herald made clear their destination, through yet another magical doorway into the lands of the Fae. And to think that he had hoped he had seen the last of their kind! Well, he could hope, at least, that the inevitable curious onlookers would keep their distance and not tempt any of the competitors with their gifts.
He noted the hesitation in the lead dwarf’s steps and could sympathize with him. He had began to wonder why the dwarves would chose to bury their honored dead in those strange lands, but once they stepped through the portal and he could see the stone slab, with the makings of a pyre fit for a lord laid on top of it, he understood. A circle of stones was laid around the grave site, not unlike those set around the villages in his lands – a circle drawn with standing stones stood for both the beginning of a journey and its end, and for all the steps that connected the two. A site well fitting for a burial rite.
Also, circles were important for workers of magic, allowing one to trap powers inside them or ward away outside influences from a site purified for an important ritual. At least, that was what he had been told, and he knew enough not to doubt the words of the shamans. And there might well be a need for that, as reflected firelight revealed the gleaming eyes of beasts of the wild, staring at the procession from the tree line. And that kind of curiosity went against all his hunter’s knowledge – either the beasts of the land had not known a hunter’s arrow… or with them were the true masters of these lands, invisible among the many small shifting eyes.
Shuddering in barely repressed fear, Tymythy hurried to keep pace with the procession, for there was safety in numbers, and in the pact made with the Fey. But, not knowing the exact wording of that agreement, there was every chance that a lone wandered from the group would be seen as willingly relinquishing the protection made for the whole funeral procession.
The dwarves moved through the stone gate and into the circle. Guthan clacked his wooden rods as he moved to the head of the pyre. Brio and Duil moved to the foot. The other dwarves grouped around the stretcher and carefully lifted the the form of Loo Gemynd to its' resting place on the pyre.
Tandyraman stood behind Guthan's right shoulder and produced a small copper bowl and a vial of water, which he emptied into the bowl. The contestants formed a haphazard circle all about.
Guthan, "Loo Lauchmhor Gemynd of clan-latch Athoraid annex Bainn Seanfear never had the sense that was gifted an heir of the Maere Ieldre. He could break apatite on his forehead, often tripped over his own feet, and never refused a kind stranger aid."
Brio and Duil droned in unison. Their words were barely audible and what could be heard was in one of the dwarven dialects. It was clear the translation magic of Gossamer House did not extend to the circle.
Roshynduv, "Loo Lauchmhor Gemynd of clan-latch Athoraid annex Bainn Seanfear could talk the ear off a statue. He was like an uncle to my children. He couldn't lie to save a bean'naohm from Pergadair. He had a beautiful smile."
Grownya Lar, "Loo Lauchmhor Gemynd of clan-latch Athoraid annex Bainn Seanfear, loved berries of all kinds. He knew how to string a kodo but not how to play one. Loo was hansom, had, in-turns, seven wives and never broke respect with a one of them after parting."
Caydren Actreo, "Loo Lauchmhor Gemynd of clan-latch Athoraid annex Bainn Seanfear once fought an umberhulk while standing over me. We were alone with no help coming and his shield arm was broken as was my leg and ankle. He should have used the small places to fight at an advantage but wouldn't but shelter me. He was brave and loyal and strong."
Brio and Duil continued to chant for another five minutes then stopped and everyone was quiet. Then they started again and the new song they sang sounded lament-full. The other dwarves joined in.
Only praise the day when the stars show their faces
Then open the gate, free the canary from the mine
The dead don’t pray in their final resting places
With their blood mix our tears and make bitter wine
No need to recall a ring clasped to one’s arm
One can’t remember a thing until it is gone
A freed canary brings us all together
And reminds us that we are each all alone
As the pyre turns their flesh into fable
Mix their ash and our harvest and make strong bread
One last time set their place at the great table
And know our boy is gone, our sweet boy is dead
There is a mail suit four by two and a half feet
There is an urn one can carry alone in two hands
There is an empty feeling that now sits in the high seat
There is a dust that cannot bear these arm bands
Keep the armbands, pass them on to the first son
In your own locket there keep a small bone
To the daughter gift his hard earned wisdom
Leave a place for all beneath the same stone
Sing songs of his deeds and of his brave days
Break a mug until nothing is left to be said
Sing songs of his sins and of his follies
And know our boy is gone, our sweet boy is dead
When the song was finished, Roshynduv stepped forward and touched the lantern staff to the pyre and flames spread. All was quiet as the fire did its' work and embers raised high into the strange sky.
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Zahra's eyebrows raised at Tandyraman's cautioning. Grief makes thoughts and emotions all jumbled and now they had to make sure that no missteps were taken. Once again, she is grateful that the loss wasn't more personal because she would not trust herself to be thinking clearly should the tables be turned.
There was tension in Guthan's first step that he took through the door. It was like it was an act of bravery which showed Zahra that there was much more going on beneath that stoic veneer than she had realized.
Zahra made sure she stood inside the great circle and then stood quietly as the ceremony began. She was touched by the tributes given by each of the members of the dwarven clan. She could only hope that such nice and thoughtful things would be said about her one day.
Intense light and heat radiated off Zahra's skin as the pyre was lit. She shrunk back somewhat from the flame, feeling something deep inside her recoil. However, respect for the others and a remembrance of Tandyraman's warning kept her rooted to the spot. Her eyes moved between staring at her feet to looking at the other competitors until they were taken back to the arena.
Still digesting the improbably tale told by the cat-man, Dounia stood and followed Zahra down to the procession. She hadn't expected to be taken outside the stadium, but she didn't hesitate. Not until she saw the rows and rows of eye-shine.
She nearly stopped, lifting her hand to point them out, then saw others notice them, and keep walking. Swallowing hard, she put her hand on the hilt of her nearest dagger and followed the others.
The desert thief found herself strangely moved by the dwarves' ceremony. She fought an instinct to take out her book and write down some notes. She'd never read about anything like this, and suddenly wanted to preserve it. Shaking her head at herself, she fought the urge - she could write some of it down later, if she still wanted to.
As the dwarves sang, Dounia closed her eyes and listened, wishing she understood the words.
Cairee, without being asked, whispered to the others, "Hmm ... a bean'noahm ... that's kind of like nun, in a dwarven cloister ... and Pergadair, well, that's a kind of waiting room in the afterlife where one is shown their sins over and over until the gates of heaven open."
Later, during the song, Cairee seemed to be understanding the words. "Oh, it's a kind of folk song. I'm not sure what a draegerman is but it seems to be a kind of ancestor's lament."
Cairee listened to Nadj's tale about his incredible (and unlikely) encounter with Zahra's ancestor. Zahra was enthralled, thrilled to hear about a first-hand encounter with Silimiel. It was a good story, but Cairee wondered if it was true. The Cleric studied Nadj as he spoke, trying to determine if he spoke the truth, and why he had really approached The Blackbirds. Surely not just to boast about his wager and taunt them about their performance.
Nadj took his leave, but he stayed in Cairee's thoughts. How old would this cat-man need to be to have met with the mighty dragon? Hadn't Silimiel died hundreds, if not thousands of years ago? She thought back to all of the books she'd read in the Order, searching for a memory of some mention of a cat-man species that may live extraordinary long lives. But all that came to her tired mind was the children's rhyme of the cat and the toad who lived in the moon.
As the dwarves crossed the arena, Cairee followed the other Blackbirds to join in the procession. She was surprised to see her siblings join as well. Could they actually be showing a sign of respect? Surely they wouldn't try to cause trouble with her here. She made sure they fell in line behind Arnie and Mar so she could her distance.
Tandyraman, who had come as well, assured everyone, "Please remain calm. The proper tributes to the lord and lady of these lands have been paid and all will be safe. But I urge you, should anyone be there to meet us, the slightest insult could result in terrible punishment. Accept no gifts, especially food. And above all else do not leave the great circle." Then he opened the front gate right of centre to expose a night time wilderness of soft grass and softwood trees and a clearing of sandy earth. You could hear Guthan exhale as he stepped forward once more, now followed directly by Tandyraman and then the others.
Guthan seemed nervous as he stepped forward. Cairee couldn't blame him. While in the arena it was easy to forget that they had been transported into the fae wilds. But stepping out of the relative safety the arena provided and into the wilds themselves was an act of bravery for all of them. Cairee prayed her siblings heard Tanyraman's warning about the dangers of insults.
Not far from Gossamer House, not even three hundred feet, was a circle of four standing stones at about eight feet tall and more than a score smaller stones of little more than a foot protruding. There was a set of three stones as well that made a kind of posts-and-lintel doorway. At the centre of the stones was a low stone slab. Upon the slab was a neat log-cabin stack of long wood made with lots of breathing space. The entire arrangement was four feet tall.
Cairee took her place around the pyre, bowed her head, and listened solemnly to the words spoken by the dwarfs. It had been some time since she had heard Heardech spoken, and it tugged at her heart. She felt a deep sadness, both for the death of Loo Gemynd, and for the unknown fate of Craedeamh - her fellow prisoner in the long wagon ride to Zhayalahmar and the reason she had learned the dwarven language.
She translated what she could of Brio and Duil's song in a whisper, tears rolling down her face. When Roshynduv lit the pyre, Cairee reached out to clasp hands with whoever was nearest, and found herself clinging to Dounia and Tymythy as they watched the fire transport Loo Gemynd to his ancestors.
How old would this cat-man need to be to have met with the mighty dragon? Hadn't Silimiel died hundreds, if not thousands of years ago?
Tandyraman gestured to the stone doorway out of the circle. Everyone turned to leave save Guthan, Duil, and Brio who would remain and collect the ashes.
As people began to reach the circle gate eyes moved out of the nearby trees and began to approach. The fire illuminated them.
There were twisted bodied trolls that looked like they has some kind of cancer. Their bodies looked like they were hardening and turning into trees.
There were goblinoids who's eyes were mutilated and they crawled forward on all fours, sniffing as they went. Their flesh was green-grey and hairy.
There were pale faced knights in silvery armour wearing long black capes. Each had a lance in one hand and their white eyes stared right through anything they looked at.
There were small flying humanoids with flesh the texture of human tongues. Their smiles were filled with rotten teeth and they carried, each, a set of cruel rusted metal pliers.
There were cats that appeared and faded away. The last thing you could see was their fangs. Then reappeared and cycled in that way.
Tymyhty watched the dwarven ritual in respectful silence, head held high, eyes fixed on the body on the pyre. He appreciated Cairee’s translations and explanations, wondering about the similarities to funeral rites of his people. Guess there were things that transcended boundaries of race and species. The service was over much more quickly than he had expected – he had thought the long-lived dwarves would take their time with their songs and prayers and retelling of the life of the deceased, but apparently that was not to be. The flame touched dry kindling and flames leapt to touch the stars above.
Almost immediately the herald motioned them to take their leave and Tymyhty followed suit, with one last warrior’s greeting of balled fist thumbing his chest in the pyre’s direction. He turned around… and froze in place, as the roaring flames cast light into myriad forms arrayed on the far side of the stone circle. Figures wondrously and horrible, knights in shining armor and twisted mockeries of living things… and worse. He suppressed the urge to raise his usriev, recalling the words of bargain struck. Were these creatures here to honor the fallen in their own alien way… or were they here to goad the interlopers to their world into breaking their side of the deal, so they could descend on the mortals, to devour their flesh and pick their bones… and lay the fetters of their fell magics on their spirits?
... The service was over much more quickly than he had expected – he had thought the long-lived dwarves would take their time with their songs and prayers and retelling of the life of the deceased, but apparently that was not to be.
Dounia didn't understand the metaphor of the canary in the song, but it was touching all the same. It was disturbing to see the dwarf being burned up, like this was some grim barbeque. She knew that many cultures burned their dead, but it wasn't the way of the desert. Bodies were left for the scavengers, to pay forward the gift of life. Dounia shuddered at the thought of being burned up when she died. Still, it wasn't on her to judge.
She was relieved when it was time to turn away and go back. She freed herself from Cairee's tight grip, then almost immediately grabbed her hand again when the most horrible creatures started to approach. I knew all those eyes were bad news!
Her instinct was to run away. There were too many to fight, and they were too awful to look at. Keeping her head down as best she could, Dounia hurried forward, trying not to make eye contact, hustling back to the gate without actually running.
Zahra felt relief when Tandyraman motioned for them to leave the circle. The service had been beautiful but emotionally draining. She couldn't even imagine how the dwarves felt. If she felt this way and had never spent any time with Loo, how much more devastated must they be feeling after living their lives together.
However, her relief was short lived as she caught glimpses of what lurked in the darkness when they were illuminated by the flames. She had no doubt that these visages would haunt her dreams for years to come. Whether their demeanours matched how terrifying they appeared, the sorceress would never know. She situated herself between Cairee and Dounia by grabbing their arms and allowed Dounia to set a brisk pace towards the arena.
As they left the circle, Cairee whispered to the others, "That was the first ceremony for Loo Gemynd, to cremete his body. They will have another service when the urn returns to his home. It could involve a watch of up to three days to prevent spirits from tampering with his soul."
She shivered a little at the idea of a soul being tampered with - and then shivered a lot more when the terrifying beings emerged from the darkness and escorted them on their walk. It's just a trick, the fey-folk are trying to scare us, She told herself. They were doing an excellent job. She stayed close to her friends and hurried back to the arena.
Prince Keone, "Don't go out there! They're too close - Listen, this isn't the way I want to win the wish!" The young prince of the north grabbed for Dounia to try to keep her from running. His hands brushed her shayla as she rushed by. In no time, she was on the path back to the gates of Gossamer House. Zahra was close behind and trying to drag Cairee along with her.
Tandyraman held his copper bowl which was half filled with water. He reached into the pocket pulling out his fist to hold over the basin. He watched Dounia and her teammates bolt for the gate but didn't call after them. Instead he chastised the creatures closing in on the protective circle.
"You approach guests of their lordships, The Master of Waking Dreams Managgarru and his consort The Master of Forgotten Desires Inimayannavali! Know that you risk their displeasure if you disturb this gathering! All tributes have been paid. All pacts sealed with blood and wax and six months of life promise.
"Know that my master, His Potency and Exalted Proficient, Raya Iew Hullwyn has been made plenipotentiary in regards the safety of all of his guests."
One of the silver knights, "Their lordships? They are in there daliances and are far away. Call to them if you wish."
One of the goblins spat, "The Master of Weakling Dreams and Four Rotten Spires??? Never heard of them!"
One of the phasing cats hissed, "And where iz this Exalted Proficient? Trembling inside his tower?"
The stalwart herald looked back to Dounia leading people out of the circle, "Oh Hells." He opened his had and dropped a smooth black stone into the basin of water.
Arnie and Mar moved to guard the stone circle archway. Mar drew a long silver dagger and Arnie unraveled one studded bracer to make a hand wrap. Both took their bucklers off their backs.
The Perdition's Cavaliers circled Prince Maegan.
Simone drew a short sword from who-knows-where and instinctively when back to back with the dwarves already, themselves, forming up in the same fashion.
-
As the Blackbirds rushed for the gate, thorny vines launched themselves from the wood, tooth fairies flew after, and three of the knights stepped forward as dust gathered under them. The dust turned to bones and the bones assembled into the skeletons of horses.
Zahra's emotions and reason were a chaotic jumble so she blindly followed Dounia, not realizing how close they were to leaving the circle.
Things happened far too quickly and suddenly Zahra was grappled by thorny vines, their prickles cutting into her skin as she struggled against them.
Tymythy’s eyes widened in horror as he saw Dounia rush out from the circle of stones towards the portal, fearing this was exactly the sort of thing the intimidating array of Fey outside had been aiming for, but there was no hesitation in his steps as he, too, dashed out after her – and from what he took of the locals’ response to the herald’s rebuking words, there would be no avoiding danger anyway. Either their host had missed some of the fine print in his agreements with the powers that held sway here, and these creatures were here under their blessing to get the best of both parts of the deal – receive the gifts their host had offered to guarantee peace while allowing their minions to attack, having only agreed not to actively attempt to do harm to the funeral procession – or these Fey were not under the power of the Fey nobles the herald had named… in which case those two powers might or might not get involved in the matter – depending, again, on the letter of the agreement and the shifting moods of the Fey nobles themselves.
Thus, waiting inside the stone circle might just be playing for time, and who knew which side would benefit from that? It seemed equally likely that any new Fey who wandered in would come to join the attackers rather than rebuke them, and if among them were mages of sufficient potency to close the gate and trap them on this realm before someone on its far side decided they were taking too long and organized a relief force to get them out… perhaps Dounia’s instinctive reaction wasn’t that rash after all.
So, out of the circle the hunter went, after Dounia, with Zahra at his side… and was caught almost immediately by thorns given life and malicious will by magic of the Fey, stopping him in his tracks and forcing him to hack at the clinging plants with his enchanted usriev in an effort to free himself.
It wasn't until she heard Zahra cry out in pain that Dounia realized that she'd made a bad mistake. She had easily evaded the grasping, thorny vines, and it hadn't occurred to her that the others would struggle with them. Finally, the words of the Prince registered in her brain, and she saw that the others had stayed in the circle. Only she had panicked enough to leave it, and drag her friends with her.
"Salt and sandy water," she mis-cursed, as she spun and drew her dagger. She leaned down and began to hack at the vines holding Zahra in place.
"Prince Keone, "Don't go out there! They're too close!"
Cairee had been staying close with her friends, assuming they were safe if they followed the path back to the arena. But she stopped short at the Prince's warning, only to see her friends tumble ahead of her. Vines sprung from the ground and wrapped themselves around Zahra and Tymythy's legs, and Dounia started stabbing at them. "Come back!" she yelled uselessly. As much as she wanted to run after them, Cairee knew there was little she could do to help. She would quickly become another entangled body to rescue.
Instead she pulled a miniature cloak the size of the palm of her hand from her pouch. She muttered a few words into the soft velvet and then touched it to her heart.
Dounia slashed almost cleanly through the vine holding Zahra, but not quite. The two could see Zahra's blood from the thorn scratches sprinkle over the vine. The blood seeped into the coarse surface and a nearby bud flowered into a deep red bloom. The centre of the bloom had a folded stamen that had the uncanny appearance of a human face.
Tymythy had one free arm and was ready to hack at his root.
Mar looked to Arnie who was in-turn looking at Cairee. Watching Cairee not go to the aid of her friends, he muttered to himself, "Just like always." He nodded to Mar and ran forward in leaps and bounds. Arnie moved straight on, beating the grasping vines and was ten feet in front of Mar. In the end he jumped up and came down on the root with his buckler's edge. The root withered around Tymythy as the vine severed beneath the shield's edge.
Mar scrambled from side to side and avoided several vines until one finally grabbed her and held her in place.
The tree ogres plodded, the goblins crawled, the shadowy cats phased, and the knights cantered towards the trapped few but all suddenly stopped. Dounia could feel her back bathed in a shaft of light. Even from inside the circle Cairee could see the silhouette of a curvaceous figure, a woman dressed in the lightest of silks so that the light behind her showed off her figure.
She was tall in the door. Twice as tall as the average woman.