Onion shivered in spite of the warm day this late summer season was becoming. She had a hard time shaking off the filthy sensation of a thousand cockroaches crawling up her skin. It was a gradual thing, being exposed to madness. Onion's web remained blissfully unshaken since the moment she arrived at Pho-Boteth, on that deathly humid day. The air had been thick and dense and naturally, her movements sluggish and forced, but that day her mind had been clear. No inane ramblings poked at the silk threads of her mind; she was privy to no conversations between empire shills.
But from the time that scaly being entered her vision, she could not stop but feel the pulse of it as a spider feels the tugs of an unwary insect. It was as if the creature amplified her senses, whether she liked it or not, and now that the connection had been made between the two of them, she could not dismiss it. Though it grew weaker as she had made her way to class, even now she could feel exactly where on campus the Silent Scholar was.
The student to her left suddenly stood up, shaking Onion back into reality with the jolt of a semi-panic surprise. The boy who had asserted himself so suddenly had waxy dark brown hair, cropped closely to his skull. His taut almond colored skin suggested he might be from Sandor, or the Independent Duchy of Vem, though there was very little reason for the Vemmish to visit the halls of her Wisdom.
He was, for all purposes a youth, though the days when he could no
longer be called a boy were fast approaching, and Onion found it strange
that even at that age, he had so much confidence and surety in
himself. Children of the Nü were taught to listen and learn from those who had gone before. Wisdom could not possibly spring from the innocent.
"No sir," the youth responded to a long hanging question the professor had proposed. "The Three-Pronged War technically began in the 37th year of Coth Di, but the Vemmish and the tribes of the Outer Crest had been aggressive and antagonistic years prior. Sandor entered the war independent of the Empire when trading vessels had been sunk by both Vemmish and Outer Crestan raiding parties, leaving an intractable situation for business. The
intervention was frowned on by the Empire, who hadn't gone to war in the past 6 epochs. Her wisdom did not chastise the Sandorans, but nor were we, I mean, they, offered aid. Fen-Kulch Dar'rduap speculated in his latest book, Lies and Lessons of the Coast, that this is why Sandor was never able to achieve a complete victory. (Linguistic Note, the prefix "Fen" indicates the person is deceased and not a high enough rank to warrant a postmortem name.)"
"Good Saugel. And who can relate to us some of those prior altercations between the Vemmish and the Outer Crest barbarians? Make sure to cite your sources." the professor prodded the introductory level history course. He absently tugged on his closely cropped goatee of chestnut and stood relaxed, resplendent in loose fitting robes of butter-cream yellow and ornate tiger lily stitching.
While young Saugel had sunk back into his seat, another youth across the classroom, a girl of no more than 25 or so tides, rose to take the question. She was stunningly elegant with long, wavy raven hair and a bronzed body covered with a pure white silk robe and a sheer blue shawl of embroidered hawks and raptors. "The Independent Duchy of Vem have always placed their highest faith in Dagleth and its host according to Fen-Pobh Lu'rduap's 'Memoirs of the East'. This, combined with their dearth of resources means that they are always looking to expand. They have to, or their civilizatoin will fall.
"This should be compared with the Empire. The Vemmish model is hardly altruistic and has been for the economic and social benefit of only themselves. Since the might of the Empire has historically blocked their access to the west, they've often gone east, causing aggression with both a pre-imperial Sandor and the Outer Crest.
"But the various tribes of the Outer Crest, savage though they may be, have sheer numbers, and they have repelled several colonization attempts. And their skill on the sea is renowned. According to the published records of Rohath'rduap, the Three-Pronged War technically began as a two party conflict when Nü pirates made landfall on Vemmish shores."
She knew it was a terrible idea. She knew up until this point he had managed to elicit no more than formal greetings from students likely 8 or 9 tides younger than herself. Her dark skin and golden-eyes were hardly noticed by her classmates, though she never knew if the ignorance was willful or natural. Nonetheless, though she knew it was not a good idea, though she was only partially confident that she translated the words of her classmate with any sort of accuracy, her legs would not let her sit idle.
"This is absurd! Lies, all of it!" she stood and slammed the desk in front of her. All the eyes of jade, obsidian, sapphire and onyx fell upon the mahogany girl with golden eyes instantaneously.
"Vren," the professor began, equal parts annoyance and interest tempering his authoritative voice, "State your case properly."
Onion took a sweeping view of her classmates around herself and suddenly found herself wishing she could attain the articulation she had with the Silent Scholar through the tongue of the mind. "The Nü are not pirates. We hunted at one time. We fish. We have even begun building cities and towns like your people seem to enjoy so well. We barely even know how to travel from island to island, much less mount an assault on a fortress city."
The boy known as Saugel snickered cruelly and muttered something under his breath that Onion could not catch. He was not alone. Many students in the room were second siblings, nieces or nephews of the nobility of Eirdren, Lithen, Sandor, Falloth and even a very select few from Benge. The rest all exhibited the tell-tale midnight colored hair and warm, light skin of the Yibouhese. There were no friends to the Nü here.
"Sessha, sit down. Your time is up." remarked the professor and the girl from Falloth slid back into the confines of her banana shaped chair. "You did explain the assigned reading well enough. Vren?" he tried the name on his lips for the second time, "Vren is likely referring to a few of the intricacies of island life. Technically, it was the Sve tribes, not the Nü, who launched the initial attack, though the Nü jumped in soon after and ended up being responsible for the sinking of several Sandoran ships. As the most numerous ethnicity on the Outer Crest, the Nü had the numbers the Sve needed and they quickly allied with their historical enemies. This is likely the reason why the war ended in a stalemate."
"But," Onion continued, unsatisfied with the accusation of malicious intent thrust upon her entire ethnicity. Whether he consciously lumped all of the Nü of the Outer Crest into one, or was merely ignorant of the lack of communication between the northern and southern isles, Onion didn't know, but she was beginning to feel that she was on trial for the entire archipelago.
"Don't argue with me, and do not interrupt me Nü!" roared the professor decisively. "Our people have been recording history for longer than your people have existed. Two generations ago, your people were illiterate! Don't presume to teach this class any of your oral stories."
Onion glared at the man and spit loudly in his direction. She refused to take a seat and instead stalked towards the door.
"Leave this class now and you will never return." the professor Boaz barked; a hint of apathy returned to his voice. Onion kept walking.
On the other side of a now closed door, Onion felt a wave of exhilaration rush over her. When did I evolve such a temper? she thought to herself in surprise. She could not recall ever becoming this angry at her brothers, certainly never Rejnev. Does the spider lash out because I am cornered and have nowhere to go?
She collected herself along the cool marble walls of the Second Hall and slid her bottom down to the granite cobblestones in a seat. She buried her head into her open palms and tried to reach out to that spider for calm.
Her meditation was soon interrupted by a bounding Shar Wu, still in her robes of lilac blue. "Vren!"
"Shar Wu! I thought you were leaving the university for the day?"
"Yes, but I stopped by posts first, and I didn't want to delay. You've got a letter! I think it is from your friend." she placed the rolled up parchment into Onion's now empty hands, poorly concealing her excitement. "Go on, read it. I can help you translate if you have questions."
Happy to be preoccupied with something other than her ouster at class or the slimy remains of the Silent Scholar's mental presence, Onion smiled and nodded before carefully removing the wax seal and unrolling the message.
"It is written in Nüish." the girl laughed. "In the script of the continental coast. I can read it though."
"Alright then. I guess you don't need me. You should tell that friend of yours to write in Eirdred though. You need the practice." she smiled before touching her forehead in farewell and leaving."
Dear Vren,
I hope you are enjoying the City of the Crags, and the University on High. There are many stories of my days there that I cherish. I'm sure you are making memories of your own.
I was hoping to return soon myself and show you around to some of the wonders of Pho-Boteth. Sadly, there is still a great deal of work to be finished here.
You should know, Zaexyl Archne, your brothers' murderess, committed suicide less than a major moon ago. I hope this gives you comfort, but there is cause for concern. We have reason to believe she was not acting alone, and her co-conspirators may know you are still alive. They may make attempts on your life. Don't leave Pho-Boteth. Better still, don't leave the University on High.
I will try to get back as soon as possible. Please be safe.
May our webs connect again,
Gregor
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