"You shall be as he was I suppose," she glanced over his shiftless clothing. "You shall be the Mountain-I-See. That is how I will know where to go."
"Don't live like that Vren," Gregor implored. "You can be your own mountain. Here." He opened a sack that had been lying on the floor and rummaged around for a bit. In seconds he produced two objects: a round disk with a glint of silver, and a book, twice as thick as the leather in which it was bound. First, he tossed the disk to Onion.
"Open it."
A small switch when compressed split the disk in two on a hinge, which Onion proceeded to fiddle with. She nearly ignored the moving arrow dancing on unfamiliar symbols that lie on the inside of the disk. "What is the purpose of this?" Onion asked.
"It is a compass. This is how we determine where we are headed, this is how we know where and how to go. It is yours now. Use it, and when you come out of the University, you will never be lost again." Next, Gregor gave her the book which she readily clutched, studying the embroidered silver lettering without a shred of comprehension.
"This was my closest companion during my days in the Outer Crest. The Nü dialect is standard north, and it is Lithenese, not Eirdren, but both are close enough to help you some at least.
"Make this life your own, or you will simply be a web without a spider." Gregor offered, though the Tales of the Spider were obscure and antiquated among the Nüish tribes he interacted with. He continued, "Learn our words; that is a power, that is your compass to this world, these cultures."
She smiled for his gift and words, and his earnestness won her over. For her part, she could not refuse his gift and admit to him the simple truth about herself:
Onion could not read.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Chapter 6 - Part VII
"Your destination is the heart of the Empire, Pho-boteth. That much I can tell you, but I don't know much else. Maybe one of the Orders will wish to take you on, perhaps the Learned of Exotics will want your first hand experience of your culture and language. Perhaps the Empress will desire you to take up the brush and scroll yourself and become a Learned. Perhaps the Bei'thal will want you for themselves."
He paused to himself for a moment, his face darkening quickly, "I will not let them make you bei though. You have my oath.
"But mostly it will depend on your skills and loyalties. And that fate will be determined after your main purpose."
"What is that? What is my purpose?"
"We," he paused, "Pho-boteth is interested in the Nü. Well, we're interested in all the races of the Outer Crest."
"I'm sure you could have found another, less intractable subject." Onion quietly observed to the man before her.
"Don't be so sure of that. Even when I have come across your people, you always travel in herds! You are not an easily co-opted group you know." he said. "And what Nü do you know of who would willingly leave their home alone to travel to a strange world? After the start of the Three-pronged War, we dare not try anyway."
In the back of her mind Onion knew Rejnev might have delighted at the chance to travel to the University on High, but her brother was a strange man to have ever gone alone to the continent. There was no life outside of family. "No I doubt many of us would." she admitted.
"So yes, it's not ideal. I know, I'm taking advantage of you, of your sad circumstance, but there was no way around it. If you were Lithenese, as I am, you'd not have gotten a chance at all. Anita would have slit your throat rather than let you see the hangman and give you the chance to tell our tale.
I've caught you in my web as you say, and I know what that means. I'll try to get back to the University on High as soon as I can, and see the right of it. But if not, give your hatred to me. It was my choice in the end, and I thought it was the best one for you. On this side of the Torrent Sea, nothing comes for free. When something is too cheap, know that somewhere, someone is paying something."
Not another word crossed between the two for the remainder of the meal. Onion reflected for a moment, that while her dish of par'la was savory in its own right, it lacked the distinct flavor of grixi smoked cooking, a staple of the southern Nü. Even that small treasure she'd kill for now.
~~~~~~~~~
Later, in a small tent Vaughn had prepared for them, Gregor began the process of wrapping Onion from fingertip to neck in the yellow-white gauze of a leper, a garb that would continue to irritate her dry-air loving skin for weeks to come.
The Lithenese man donned a robe that was reminiscent of the cloak worn by the man Gregor had referred to as the "Gegleth". The dull grey weave of the fabric was coarse on the exterior, but light. Under the cheesecloth material was a light cotton of solid charcoal color.
Under the hooded cloak was a similarly fashioned long sleeved tunic, bound and cinched on the forearm and cinched again just above his calf-high rough leather boots. Around his hood a face scarf bearing the only color of the ensemble, light purple, hung loosely, ready to be utilized at any moment.
Onion would later learn that this was the traveling garb of the Vrit Wilders of the Benge Wastelands which lie on the other side of Pho-boteth. In crossing the sunless desert for the first time, in ages long past, the scholar kings of Old Boteth had learned the valuable lesson of cultural adaptation and they adopted it as traveling clothes to just about anywhere..
He paused to himself for a moment, his face darkening quickly, "I will not let them make you bei though. You have my oath.
"But mostly it will depend on your skills and loyalties. And that fate will be determined after your main purpose."
"What is that? What is my purpose?"
"We," he paused, "Pho-boteth is interested in the Nü. Well, we're interested in all the races of the Outer Crest."
"I'm sure you could have found another, less intractable subject." Onion quietly observed to the man before her.
"Don't be so sure of that. Even when I have come across your people, you always travel in herds! You are not an easily co-opted group you know." he said. "And what Nü do you know of who would willingly leave their home alone to travel to a strange world? After the start of the Three-pronged War, we dare not try anyway."
In the back of her mind Onion knew Rejnev might have delighted at the chance to travel to the University on High, but her brother was a strange man to have ever gone alone to the continent. There was no life outside of family. "No I doubt many of us would." she admitted.
"So yes, it's not ideal. I know, I'm taking advantage of you, of your sad circumstance, but there was no way around it. If you were Lithenese, as I am, you'd not have gotten a chance at all. Anita would have slit your throat rather than let you see the hangman and give you the chance to tell our tale.
I've caught you in my web as you say, and I know what that means. I'll try to get back to the University on High as soon as I can, and see the right of it. But if not, give your hatred to me. It was my choice in the end, and I thought it was the best one for you. On this side of the Torrent Sea, nothing comes for free. When something is too cheap, know that somewhere, someone is paying something."
Not another word crossed between the two for the remainder of the meal. Onion reflected for a moment, that while her dish of par'la was savory in its own right, it lacked the distinct flavor of grixi smoked cooking, a staple of the southern Nü. Even that small treasure she'd kill for now.
~~~~~~~~~
Later, in a small tent Vaughn had prepared for them, Gregor began the process of wrapping Onion from fingertip to neck in the yellow-white gauze of a leper, a garb that would continue to irritate her dry-air loving skin for weeks to come.
The Lithenese man donned a robe that was reminiscent of the cloak worn by the man Gregor had referred to as the "Gegleth". The dull grey weave of the fabric was coarse on the exterior, but light. Under the cheesecloth material was a light cotton of solid charcoal color.
Under the hooded cloak was a similarly fashioned long sleeved tunic, bound and cinched on the forearm and cinched again just above his calf-high rough leather boots. Around his hood a face scarf bearing the only color of the ensemble, light purple, hung loosely, ready to be utilized at any moment.
Onion would later learn that this was the traveling garb of the Vrit Wilders of the Benge Wastelands which lie on the other side of Pho-boteth. In crossing the sunless desert for the first time, in ages long past, the scholar kings of Old Boteth had learned the valuable lesson of cultural adaptation and they adopted it as traveling clothes to just about anywhere..
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Chapter 6 - Part VI
Gregor knew his response, the answer he had to give her before she even begun her plea but could not find the strength to stop her impassioned speech. Words hung on his lips, waiting to be pushed out into the air. Not until the Nü stopped speaking, not until there was a vacuum of dialogue could he finally respond.
"I am truly sorry, but your old life is gone; that is the price of your freedom. You have seen the hidden hands that shape the world, you know of techniques practiced and studied in secret for over five decades. Your body was spared, but your life is now the Empress's."
Onion felt her heart well up and her extremities grow lifelessly cold. "Then I have not bought freedom as you say. I have bought an existence, nothing more."
"That may be true. That may be the right way of it. Perhaps. You will have as much freedom as any in the world truly. Tell me, when you traveled with your brothers, were you free to leave then? Perhaps physically you could walk away, as you could do now, but your chances of survival would be quite slim. No ability in the language, no skills that could help you survive. Do you even know how to gut a rein properly without spilling its poisonous bile and contaminating the meat? Or did you survive on the coin you brought in, as most mercenaries in these parts do?"
"That is entirely different!," Onion shouted back, "I wanted to be with my brothers. I wanted to be close! I..."
"Freedom has nothing to do with desire.", he whispered, bringing the conversation back to a manageable decibel. "That you wanted to be where you were stuck was only happy coincidence. If 'want' is all you require, then want to go to Pho-Boteth. Want to become bei'thal. Or want to work in the University. I can't know what you are most suited for, but there are opportunities for limited choice under the Empress."
How can someone you've never met lay claim to your life? Onion thought, but she was beyond explaining this to Gregor. He was right, of course, freedom was never her objective. Perhaps of any Nü she ever knew, Rejnev was the only one to have that desire. But he could not understand the power of each person's spider. He could not see the strands of the web, and how they bound the Nü close to each other. She could not feel the web of this 'Empress' and she certainly was not caught in it.
Since the annihilation of her brothers, and double and again with her encounter with bei'Anita, she had been cast adrift. No dew-kissed thread was there to guide her to her place in the world. Her life now was one in a state of constant shock. Gregor's words of ownership to her own desires had a flavor of sage advice now, considering her position, but that acknowledgment could come only through hollow rationalization now. She could not make herself "want" anything.
So the Nü suppressed the cloying helplessness sticking to her mind, and echoed the words she knew he wanted to hear, "I see. Very well, if this was the life that was to be for me, then I shall make it my life, damn this spiderless empress. Then what is our trajectory? I would know our path that I might be the one to lay my feet on it." she uttered, though a hint of futility pervaded her breath. The lips are far easier to convince than the heart.
"I am truly sorry, but your old life is gone; that is the price of your freedom. You have seen the hidden hands that shape the world, you know of techniques practiced and studied in secret for over five decades. Your body was spared, but your life is now the Empress's."
Onion felt her heart well up and her extremities grow lifelessly cold. "Then I have not bought freedom as you say. I have bought an existence, nothing more."
"That may be true. That may be the right way of it. Perhaps. You will have as much freedom as any in the world truly. Tell me, when you traveled with your brothers, were you free to leave then? Perhaps physically you could walk away, as you could do now, but your chances of survival would be quite slim. No ability in the language, no skills that could help you survive. Do you even know how to gut a rein properly without spilling its poisonous bile and contaminating the meat? Or did you survive on the coin you brought in, as most mercenaries in these parts do?"
"That is entirely different!," Onion shouted back, "I wanted to be with my brothers. I wanted to be close! I..."
"Freedom has nothing to do with desire.", he whispered, bringing the conversation back to a manageable decibel. "That you wanted to be where you were stuck was only happy coincidence. If 'want' is all you require, then want to go to Pho-Boteth. Want to become bei'thal. Or want to work in the University. I can't know what you are most suited for, but there are opportunities for limited choice under the Empress."
How can someone you've never met lay claim to your life? Onion thought, but she was beyond explaining this to Gregor. He was right, of course, freedom was never her objective. Perhaps of any Nü she ever knew, Rejnev was the only one to have that desire. But he could not understand the power of each person's spider. He could not see the strands of the web, and how they bound the Nü close to each other. She could not feel the web of this 'Empress' and she certainly was not caught in it.
Since the annihilation of her brothers, and double and again with her encounter with bei'Anita, she had been cast adrift. No dew-kissed thread was there to guide her to her place in the world. Her life now was one in a state of constant shock. Gregor's words of ownership to her own desires had a flavor of sage advice now, considering her position, but that acknowledgment could come only through hollow rationalization now. She could not make herself "want" anything.
So the Nü suppressed the cloying helplessness sticking to her mind, and echoed the words she knew he wanted to hear, "I see. Very well, if this was the life that was to be for me, then I shall make it my life, damn this spiderless empress. Then what is our trajectory? I would know our path that I might be the one to lay my feet on it." she uttered, though a hint of futility pervaded her breath. The lips are far easier to convince than the heart.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Chapter 6 - Part V
"You cannot know this..." he muttered, "Just stay away." hoping the matter closed.
Onion did not press further. She was very aware of the ease with which he might again sink into moodiness. It was now or never, she had to make her case before they parted ways again. Gregor was perhaps the only person she might consider an ally; the only person who might allow her to slip away now. Three years on the continent had taught her little of diplomacy, but she would have to try.
"I realize I walked a knife's edge between this world and my death." she offered, choosing the path of humbleness to endear her cause in his eyes. "I was not the purpose of your actions. yet, without your help, without your bei as you call them, I'd have shared the same fate as my brothers. " she finally managed, "You did not have to send your people down there for me, that is painfully obvious. I have seen how they look at me; I have heard their tone as they talk of me. I may not understand the words but I feel the intent. To them, I am at best I am a complication in the execution of an already difficult strategy. At worst, a potential enemy."
"Even the chef, Cedric views me with suspicion, "she acknowledged. How often his beady eyes had darted through the bars of Onion's cell when she was meditating or he thought she was not looking! Perhaps he blamed her for his troubles, Onion could not say, but her isolation was not a mere tool to manipulate Gregor. She felt the distinct lack of anything on her web. "I doubt he knows why you retrieved him either."
She did not look at him, preferring to study the oak table's rich lacquer and cracks slowly forming at the edge of each plank. Vren rubbed her fingers mindlessly along the deep crevasses presented by the aged wood.
"I cannot fathom what motivations you might have had in mind with my escape." Left unsaid was an equally evident lack of curiosity in the matter. The wind elects its direction without question, why should she worry about why it takes her? Though, Onion did not lack in appreciation.
"You, Gregor, are my yejñi, my great mother bear, to put your claws into the fight and shield me from harm like a cub." A smile enveloped the pause of her words as Onion did her best to avoid begging. "But my brothers are dead. There is nothing for me here, and this country will only find more ways to kill me. I must return home, I must return to Deezhul. I must prepare the spirits of my brethren and take them up to Toch'vik. The web of the ancestors await them and I dare not make their souls wander."
Gregor felt compassion for the girl, recognizing the tradition among most ethnic Nü to send the ashes or personal items of a departed loved one to a nearby alpine mountain of local importance. The name of the mountain, Toch'vik, was unfamiliar to him, but the seriousness of the ritual was not. A spirit whose body still occupied the earth would become irrevocably confused, not sure whether the ancestors or the corporeal world called more loudly to them. And those wretches would soon lose their memories, according to Nüish myth, being so far lost, to become wandering spiders, haunting the minds and lives of loved ones with vengeful purpose.
He did not mention that these rituals did not translate to the continent outside of the Dutchy of Vem, and that her brothers, and all of their personal belongings likely had already been tossed to the sea. It was information that could serve only to hurt her and it was not worth upsetting her creative superstitions when he could not let her go anyway.
Gregor's prolonged silence did not go unnoticed by Onion and she felt a tinge of panic that she would be forced to go to Heilth afterall. "I do not know what I would do here anyway. This is not my tongue, the culture here is unfriendly and strange. I have no clear path!
"My spirit is a flood upon the grixi reed plains. With no riverbed, I am set to flow in every direction. Only Rejnev stood as our mountain, our guide, only he carved out the crevasses from the mountain cap that let our river flow.
"Please, I must return to my people. The wife sisters of my dead brothers are siblings to two young men of my age. Perhaps it is time I marry, as my aunts had always hoped." Moisture collected along the ridge of Onion's eyes and she pleaded to her spider that the word vomit she had just expelled bore any resemblance to a convincing argument. She was not sure if she even believed the life of domesticity was one she desired, but she was sure that Deezhul was her only place of refuge now. She knew Gregor possessed some level of empathy for her, but was it enough to buy her way home?
Onion did not press further. She was very aware of the ease with which he might again sink into moodiness. It was now or never, she had to make her case before they parted ways again. Gregor was perhaps the only person she might consider an ally; the only person who might allow her to slip away now. Three years on the continent had taught her little of diplomacy, but she would have to try.
"I realize I walked a knife's edge between this world and my death." she offered, choosing the path of humbleness to endear her cause in his eyes. "I was not the purpose of your actions. yet, without your help, without your bei as you call them, I'd have shared the same fate as my brothers. " she finally managed, "You did not have to send your people down there for me, that is painfully obvious. I have seen how they look at me; I have heard their tone as they talk of me. I may not understand the words but I feel the intent. To them, I am at best I am a complication in the execution of an already difficult strategy. At worst, a potential enemy."
"Even the chef, Cedric views me with suspicion, "she acknowledged. How often his beady eyes had darted through the bars of Onion's cell when she was meditating or he thought she was not looking! Perhaps he blamed her for his troubles, Onion could not say, but her isolation was not a mere tool to manipulate Gregor. She felt the distinct lack of anything on her web. "I doubt he knows why you retrieved him either."
She did not look at him, preferring to study the oak table's rich lacquer and cracks slowly forming at the edge of each plank. Vren rubbed her fingers mindlessly along the deep crevasses presented by the aged wood.
"I cannot fathom what motivations you might have had in mind with my escape." Left unsaid was an equally evident lack of curiosity in the matter. The wind elects its direction without question, why should she worry about why it takes her? Though, Onion did not lack in appreciation.
"You, Gregor, are my yejñi, my great mother bear, to put your claws into the fight and shield me from harm like a cub." A smile enveloped the pause of her words as Onion did her best to avoid begging. "But my brothers are dead. There is nothing for me here, and this country will only find more ways to kill me. I must return home, I must return to Deezhul. I must prepare the spirits of my brethren and take them up to Toch'vik. The web of the ancestors await them and I dare not make their souls wander."
Gregor felt compassion for the girl, recognizing the tradition among most ethnic Nü to send the ashes or personal items of a departed loved one to a nearby alpine mountain of local importance. The name of the mountain, Toch'vik, was unfamiliar to him, but the seriousness of the ritual was not. A spirit whose body still occupied the earth would become irrevocably confused, not sure whether the ancestors or the corporeal world called more loudly to them. And those wretches would soon lose their memories, according to Nüish myth, being so far lost, to become wandering spiders, haunting the minds and lives of loved ones with vengeful purpose.
He did not mention that these rituals did not translate to the continent outside of the Dutchy of Vem, and that her brothers, and all of their personal belongings likely had already been tossed to the sea. It was information that could serve only to hurt her and it was not worth upsetting her creative superstitions when he could not let her go anyway.
Gregor's prolonged silence did not go unnoticed by Onion and she felt a tinge of panic that she would be forced to go to Heilth afterall. "I do not know what I would do here anyway. This is not my tongue, the culture here is unfriendly and strange. I have no clear path!
"My spirit is a flood upon the grixi reed plains. With no riverbed, I am set to flow in every direction. Only Rejnev stood as our mountain, our guide, only he carved out the crevasses from the mountain cap that let our river flow.
"Please, I must return to my people. The wife sisters of my dead brothers are siblings to two young men of my age. Perhaps it is time I marry, as my aunts had always hoped." Moisture collected along the ridge of Onion's eyes and she pleaded to her spider that the word vomit she had just expelled bore any resemblance to a convincing argument. She was not sure if she even believed the life of domesticity was one she desired, but she was sure that Deezhul was her only place of refuge now. She knew Gregor possessed some level of empathy for her, but was it enough to buy her way home?
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Chapter 6 - Part IV
Then, she had let that seed of hope, of finding kinship grow unchecked. Now, as her cart dragged by the buttes of Mae'elt tau'chuik, she chided herself for that flight of fancy, that somehow she might meet up with her kinfolk, steal away to the Dutchy of Vem and find herself on a ferry to the Outer Crest. With no one to trust at her side, and an uncertain and barely communicable companion in Cedric, she could not hope to survive outside of her path. Gregor's intended destination for her was unavoidable.
Onion, Vren, knew nothing of the Risen Stone Capital, Pho (Capital City) Boteth (Crags), of Heilth. Try as she might, she could learn very little from Cedric in their pidgin conversations. It was not the first time since her encounter with Gregor's allies that this feeling of linguistic frustration would smolder like Toch'vik. Perhaps it was time to learn this mosquito-tongue.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gregor had lost his moody silence before Onion's lunch had disappeared from her tray, but he had forgotten nothing of his contempt for the mysterious, cloaked man.
"Stay clear from that thing, if you value a decent life. Nothing good can come from a gegleth." he cautioned, his tongue laced with bitter anger.
"What is this person, a gegleth? I am not familiar with that country." she struggled with the exotic sounding word.
Gregor appeared at a loss for words, as if he struggled to turn raw emotion already digested and accepted as fact in his mind, into some form of verbal communication. Better if he could construct some sort of articulate string of nouns and verbs, but perhaps that was expecting too much.
"Women...," he tried, "are not safe around them. They cannot remain themselves for long." he managed.
Onion sensed the underpinnings of his frustration, or at least she through she did, and she let out a brief, coy chuckle.
"I don't know of what you speak, but do not worry. I am a woman of experience. I can handle myself well enough around the opposite sex." she smiled, hoping to reassure him.
Gregor ceased his brooding as he contemplated the Nü before him. He realized how terribly young she truly was. Physically, she might not be much younger than himself, perhaps she had survived twenty or so high tide seasons. Had she been born in Lithen, and shared his own childhood experiences, she would likely have already brought several new souls to this world at her age.
But Vren was not a continental, as Gregor reminded himself. She still carried the sort of cynical naivety that only one certain of their adulthood could maintain. Even though he knew her hair, short brown and bound in two, was an indication among the Nü of a woman of age, it reminded him much of the little girls and boys he played with during his early years.
Gregor had heard of tales that the southern Nü had unnaturally long lifespans; stories of entire tribes where skilled hunters reached the ages of 80 or 90. Those accepted as elders could live as long as 120, using their long earned wisdom to guide the movements of their kin generations younger. Perhaps, he reasoned, because of this their childhoods were also prolonged.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Chapter 6 - Part III
"Cedric had been important to us for sometime, but we hadn't reached out to him before. We had to see if there would be any problems later on, so I went to him."
"Why?" Onion forced him to cease his monologue, having found interest in only one aspect of it.
"What?" Gregor's eyes re-focused on the brash Nü, as if realizing she was there for the first time.
"Why is Cedric important to you? Why did you help us?"
Gregor had looked taken aback, but he quickly sought refuge from the potentially dangerous question in the sudden appearance of Vaughn. At his side stood an enormous human figure whose cloak hid the entirety of his height.
With Gregor he had been brief, "The arrangements have been made?"
"Yes sir, they leave before nightfall." Gregor responded, his face darkening as he noticed the cloaked figure.
"Good, bring the girl to dress and ensure she is among their number before they depart."
"As you will.", he said curtly, his glare fixated not on his superior, but the man who accompanied him. "What is he doing here" Gregor hissed, his words launching from his lips with intent to pierce the mysterious figure.
A brief moment was all it took for Vaughn to note the object of the younger man's ire. "Do not be a fool boy," he spat, keeping his voice low but his tone intense. "You are bei'thal, not some selfish child. Recollect yourself!" While she was not able to understand his words, Onion was shocked and the power he put behind them. A mighty wave from the ocean, she reflected, smashing mutely upon the porous rocks of a lonely cliff.
"He has done his duty," Vaughn continued, easing his temper some, "and with great skill and honor. It is time for him to return home. He has earned his rest."
Vaughn left no room in his tone for continued discussion, yet Gregor was unable to contain his rage, "Yes, he has earned himself a great reward for his service, a mate." he muttered towards Vaughn, just over his breath to be heard. "And a chance for a brood of his own upon her. A man must satisfy his unholy cravings no matter the cost." The blond man's face flushed beet red with the excitement and the anger of the horde of the Keeper Vera herself. It was all he could do to keep his voice hushed in the back corner of the teahouse.
For his part, the cloaked man had said not a word and Onion never found out who he was. The exchange between Gregor and his superior went untranslated to the golden eyed Nü though the ferocity of the conversation unnerved her. In the short time she had come to know the younger bei'thal, she had not once suspected his heart to contain such poison.
"Yiren made her choice, you must live with that and move on. Put this prejudice behind you or you will be put behind. We've indulged enough of your Nüish obsessions. Understood?"
Beaten, suppressed, but never forgiving, Gregor nodded, muttering obscenities under his breath.
In the space between the the assassination of the conversation and its funeral, Vaughn and his mysterious guest departed as quietly as they had come. Gregor was left to brood in silence while Onion sat in curiosity. She understood nothing of what had transpired, but she had picked up a few words in the parade of sounds. "Nüish", "Yiren" stuck out to her like brilliant stars in the spaces of a confused and cloudy sky.
The name Yiren was a Nüish name, if somewhat out of fashion in the southern reaches of late. Her grandmother's sister had been called Yiren from her nameday until the days before her death, and she was a woman whose kindness had yet to be duplicated on the web of Vren. Perhaps there were those on the continent like herself and her brothers; perhaps other Nü whose restlessness begged a larger web. Perhaps she might find help and direction somewhere in this confused world.
"Why?" Onion forced him to cease his monologue, having found interest in only one aspect of it.
"What?" Gregor's eyes re-focused on the brash Nü, as if realizing she was there for the first time.
"Why is Cedric important to you? Why did you help us?"
Gregor had looked taken aback, but he quickly sought refuge from the potentially dangerous question in the sudden appearance of Vaughn. At his side stood an enormous human figure whose cloak hid the entirety of his height.
With Gregor he had been brief, "The arrangements have been made?"
"Yes sir, they leave before nightfall." Gregor responded, his face darkening as he noticed the cloaked figure.
"Good, bring the girl to dress and ensure she is among their number before they depart."
"As you will.", he said curtly, his glare fixated not on his superior, but the man who accompanied him. "What is he doing here" Gregor hissed, his words launching from his lips with intent to pierce the mysterious figure.
A brief moment was all it took for Vaughn to note the object of the younger man's ire. "Do not be a fool boy," he spat, keeping his voice low but his tone intense. "You are bei'thal, not some selfish child. Recollect yourself!" While she was not able to understand his words, Onion was shocked and the power he put behind them. A mighty wave from the ocean, she reflected, smashing mutely upon the porous rocks of a lonely cliff.
"He has done his duty," Vaughn continued, easing his temper some, "and with great skill and honor. It is time for him to return home. He has earned his rest."
Vaughn left no room in his tone for continued discussion, yet Gregor was unable to contain his rage, "Yes, he has earned himself a great reward for his service, a mate." he muttered towards Vaughn, just over his breath to be heard. "And a chance for a brood of his own upon her. A man must satisfy his unholy cravings no matter the cost." The blond man's face flushed beet red with the excitement and the anger of the horde of the Keeper Vera herself. It was all he could do to keep his voice hushed in the back corner of the teahouse.
For his part, the cloaked man had said not a word and Onion never found out who he was. The exchange between Gregor and his superior went untranslated to the golden eyed Nü though the ferocity of the conversation unnerved her. In the short time she had come to know the younger bei'thal, she had not once suspected his heart to contain such poison.
"Yiren made her choice, you must live with that and move on. Put this prejudice behind you or you will be put behind. We've indulged enough of your Nüish obsessions. Understood?"
Beaten, suppressed, but never forgiving, Gregor nodded, muttering obscenities under his breath.
In the space between the the assassination of the conversation and its funeral, Vaughn and his mysterious guest departed as quietly as they had come. Gregor was left to brood in silence while Onion sat in curiosity. She understood nothing of what had transpired, but she had picked up a few words in the parade of sounds. "Nüish", "Yiren" stuck out to her like brilliant stars in the spaces of a confused and cloudy sky.
The name Yiren was a Nüish name, if somewhat out of fashion in the southern reaches of late. Her grandmother's sister had been called Yiren from her nameday until the days before her death, and she was a woman whose kindness had yet to be duplicated on the web of Vren. Perhaps there were those on the continent like herself and her brothers; perhaps other Nü whose restlessness begged a larger web. Perhaps she might find help and direction somewhere in this confused world.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Chapter 6 - Part II
Travels on the road wore on the city-dweller Cedric much more so than the durable Onion, though their pace was slow. Even among hunting parties, the Soa rarely made trips from their mountain villages without their families. The few Soa who engaged in trade with the city were no different, and the children made slow traveling companions.
They still had a few more days to pass through the increasingly dominant buttes to the mountain pass of Eora Swou. Among the other travelers neither Onion nor her companion had been willing to venture anything in Nüish and Onion was confident her accent in pidgin Eirdren would quickly give her away.
Gregor had not been lying about her new role as Gael the leper. To play a more convincing infirm, he had forced her to don heavy wrappings which had the even more important role of covering her distinct bronze Nü skin. Her attire was vexing in the summer heat and to make matters worse, the shabby cart she and Cedric sat in jostled with every pothole and then some.
Before parting ways, Gregor had treated Onion to a meal together and in the dullness of travel, that is what mostly occupied her thoughts. He had not been shy about expressing his extreme dissatisfaction at the idea of leaving the Nü and Cedric without the bei'thal, without a conduit of communication between himself and Onion, but the decision was not his to make. He told her he could only make it up to her by treating her to some decent food before her journey.
"You see this?" he had commented, pointing to the bulgar dish topped with flower stems and thin slices of rein and boar meat, "Cedric can cook up the best tasting parla anywhere in Eirdred. This parla is not terrible, but it is more worthy for the gulls when compared to the parla of that man. While you two are in such close company, make sure that you get him to cook for you as much as possible. Don't let that man's talent go to waste while it is still yours to take advantage."
Not waiting for a response from Onion, he happily delved into chatty banter headless of her interest in it. "That is how I first came to meet Cedric in Eirdred." He paused. Unseen by Onion, he savored the strange flavor of the words "first met", as if he had buried the memory of their true first encounter under the burdens and joys that had accumulated over the years that passed without his friend. It was as if he truly forgot when the world was flat. But he kept those thoughts in the deepest recesses of his mind, and that was neither here nor there anyway.
"I caught him out at the market in the Durendul District. Rel's host overwhelm me if I don't admit they have the best seafood available, imported from the Outer Crest." Gregor resumed his exited small talk, using the Eirdren term for the archipelago Onion called home, as the Nü had no such term for all of the hundreds of islands. Only to mainlanders was she an Outer Crestan. To herself and her kin, she was a Nü first, and a Deezh'ullan second. Never did her loyalties extend beyond that. Nonetheless, she had come to understand the term over the few years she had resided on the continent.
They still had a few more days to pass through the increasingly dominant buttes to the mountain pass of Eora Swou. Among the other travelers neither Onion nor her companion had been willing to venture anything in Nüish and Onion was confident her accent in pidgin Eirdren would quickly give her away.
Gregor had not been lying about her new role as Gael the leper. To play a more convincing infirm, he had forced her to don heavy wrappings which had the even more important role of covering her distinct bronze Nü skin. Her attire was vexing in the summer heat and to make matters worse, the shabby cart she and Cedric sat in jostled with every pothole and then some.
Before parting ways, Gregor had treated Onion to a meal together and in the dullness of travel, that is what mostly occupied her thoughts. He had not been shy about expressing his extreme dissatisfaction at the idea of leaving the Nü and Cedric without the bei'thal, without a conduit of communication between himself and Onion, but the decision was not his to make. He told her he could only make it up to her by treating her to some decent food before her journey.
"You see this?" he had commented, pointing to the bulgar dish topped with flower stems and thin slices of rein and boar meat, "Cedric can cook up the best tasting parla anywhere in Eirdred. This parla is not terrible, but it is more worthy for the gulls when compared to the parla of that man. While you two are in such close company, make sure that you get him to cook for you as much as possible. Don't let that man's talent go to waste while it is still yours to take advantage."
Not waiting for a response from Onion, he happily delved into chatty banter headless of her interest in it. "That is how I first came to meet Cedric in Eirdred." He paused. Unseen by Onion, he savored the strange flavor of the words "first met", as if he had buried the memory of their true first encounter under the burdens and joys that had accumulated over the years that passed without his friend. It was as if he truly forgot when the world was flat. But he kept those thoughts in the deepest recesses of his mind, and that was neither here nor there anyway.
"I caught him out at the market in the Durendul District. Rel's host overwhelm me if I don't admit they have the best seafood available, imported from the Outer Crest." Gregor resumed his exited small talk, using the Eirdren term for the archipelago Onion called home, as the Nü had no such term for all of the hundreds of islands. Only to mainlanders was she an Outer Crestan. To herself and her kin, she was a Nü first, and a Deezh'ullan second. Never did her loyalties extend beyond that. Nonetheless, she had come to understand the term over the few years she had resided on the continent.
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