"Najwa?", Vorona Corax says, then raises her voice to a shout. "Najwa! Kum in qhe forge oa tik." Come in the forge a second. In a moment, she hears the door open and then her daughter is standing beside her, leaning as she does on the windowsill, peering out through the slit in the wall. Vorona whispers something to Najwa and points north and slightly east. "Qha tu aya dek? Nki! Nki Shaklusht!" Do you see it? Crazy! Crazy Fool-keeper!
Approaching across the sand is the wavering shape of a man, a Human, in the robes of a Confessor of the Temple of the Cleansing Flame. The image resolves into the form of Uhrstod the Scorned, readily recognizable from his first 'visit' to the city of Kei that day. The two Irekei women look at each other a moment. The younger had killed him, earlier, discovering him on the shore near town. Mysteriously-- even for a fir'k-- he had not fought back, nor uttered the usual prayers and curses before Death had silenced him. Now, he has returned.
'Persistent', Vorona thinks, 'He's had a Death... what can he possibly want this time?' As they watch, the man shouts some kind of challenge in the guttural tongue his kind commonly uses-- something that Vorona does not precisely catch, something about... a slave?
Najwa shouts back an answer. "She is a good worker, fir'k. Perhaps if you made a fair offer we would sell her to you?"
"Uhat prakh'thuh?" What did he say?
"Qhat thuh skal'frii qhe fe-jov'uus", Najwa whispers in her mother's ear, glancing over at the worker in question, standing in her usual corner of the forge, the one where she usually sits polishing and deburring newly-made daggers with a combination of fine, sharp sand, stiff cloth, a flake of whetstone, and elbow grease.That he had come to free the girl-servant.
The Zik'ulan, an Irekei with many seasons of experience at his craft and with the predictable interruptions of warfare, lays his hammer aside, listening. Vorona can clearly hear the Human, now, herself. "Have you lost your tongues, Irekei, or are you merely hiding?"
"We were discussing what we think would be a fair price for a worker as good as Chi'Chi", Najwa shouts back. Chi'Urvha is shivering and speechless with fright at the sound of the man, already. At the mention of her name, she startles further; Vorona hisses wordlessly at her, a warning, accompanied by a gesture of her hand, to stay where she is.
Vorona nudges Najwa, and they slip cautiously out of the building that houses the Forge of Daggers, locking the door behind them. Once outside, she peers around, her quick bright black eyes scanning the scoured plain between the city and the nearest hill. No scents but the Confessor's and their own mark the breeze. "Bi thuh'oa, agiin, thuh kum. Thuh-jallaji'nha, tu sra, Bhri?" By himself alone, again, he comes. Will he attack us, do you think, Daughter?
"Jov", says Najwa. "Thuh-nkoro." No. He fears to. She smiles.
"Ha, hiir thuh kum." Ah, here he comes. Vorona nods in the direction of the man who draws ever closer at a determined pace. "Nki fir'khanim! Nki, i'bhal, iv thuh kumli al qhis uay toa tym ibh oa jov'uus ov nhas", she adds quietly. Crazy Rainbleeder! Crazy, in truth, if he came all this way twice for the sake of one servant of ours. The Irekei walk forward to meet him, away from the Tree of Vra'Akar, and the forge hut with its listening workers.
Uhrstod is just within range, now, of Najwa's battlesongs and throwing daggers, as are the Irekei close enough for him to send flames their way. None of them have a weapon drawn, nor-- with the Human's magic, Najwa's music, and her mother's lightning reflexes-- do any of them need to. Battle will be swift when it comes, if it comes. They stand, facing each other, as the sun beats down from directly overhead. "Very well then", Uhrstod says, in a voice still loud and very steady. "I think both sides would benefit if you merely gave me the child."
Najwa smirks. "Gave you the child? Skah! How would that benefit us? Who would help around the forge, then?" She scuffs one foot in the sand, and stands poised, her weight on the balls of her feet, fingers loose, looking deceptively relaxed. "She has been well trained. Nuh khalusht would not wish to go to all that work again, nu sra."
"Uho skal'bhoko fir itk qhe Q'usht'al?" Vorona adds, naming some of the Forge-girl's tasks, "Aht itk qhe jarden'im? Who would, then, give water to the Trees? And to the Gardens?
"You would benefit, as some of the Temple may not be as kind as I am", Uhrstod answers, standing flatfooted with his shield on one arm, looking sternly from Najwa's dark red face to Vorona's black one. "They may decide to come here in force, to take the child, and that could be very unpleasant."
"The sands are always thirsty for fir'k blood." Najwa shrugs. "Come, now. Jalla over a slave? Is bhon so precious to you that you'd rather empty your veins for dek?"
Uhrstod takes a few steps nearer, allowing him to lower his voice somewhat. "I know not all of you are as savage as some of my Brothers and Sisters think; this is why I have come alone." He lifts his chin. "I will not fight over it. I will not fight any of you, even if you attack me."
Vorona turns her head a bit without taking her eyes off the Human. Her hood is pushed back and the sun puts odd highlights on her dark red hair. "Sra'tu thuh offirji bhon iko dek?" she says quietly to the younger woman, her lips barely moving. Do you think he will offer gold for it? Out of the corner of her eye she sees her daughter shake her head slightly.
Vorona asks the Confessor, in pleasant, neutral tones, "Tu wal'putji qhe chi'oa itk qhe Khal... Jov bhal?" You would put the little one to the Flame... Is that not so?
"Yes," he answers, "I would see to it, personally."
Vorona's pointed ears lie back visibly as Najwa mutters "Mmm, poor chi'chi. Dek is jov Irekei; the "Cleansing Fires" which tickle us so would not be iri iko dek, nu sra."
Vorona continues, still matter-of-factly but less pleasantly. "So you burn her. Hurt her. Make her ooze tears and blood. Uhat qhen?"
Uhrstod speaks in a tone of great reasonableness and fervor. "She is not beyond Redemption. She deserves to be shown the true Path. She does not even talk as a Human does."
"Iko oa'tskh bhon nha'skal'allou qhis?" For a thousand gold pieces, should we allow this? Vorona scoffs, adding in a mutter, "Fu'i. Thuh moks nha prakh nha Irekei kragh'bhoq dek." Feh. He mocks our speech we Irekei have given her.
Najwa smiles dangerously. "All paths lead to the Dragon's flame, fir'k."
"So be it. I can not take her to my city, but I can give her things for her to start to make a living on her own." Uhrstod adds, "I do, however, not carry any bhon on me at this time."
Najwa and Vorona stand open-mouthed for a second, while his words sink in. "Tu would bring gifts ... for Chi'Chi?" Najwa snickers.
"Dowri?" Vorona asks, laughing out loud. "Har!"
Najwa giggles, her shoulders shaking. "Tu bring gifts iko Jov'uus? Tu uish... 'nharina' dek?" Najwa laughs uproariously, a wisp of her white hair falling loose by her face.
Uhrstod fumes a bit. "Do not be silly. I do not intend to marry it. Her." He waits until their laughter subsides, then asks "May I enter your village? All this shouting and standing talking in the sun is drying my throat."
"Thuh uants 'truce'", remarks Vorona to her daughter. She considers this a minute. "A deal, fir'khanim." She spreads her arms and then brings her hands together, clasping them, signifying agreement.
"Tu kan ula qhe uri'rhu ov nha Q'usht", Najwa says with a graceful gesture. You may use the shade of our Tree. "Ki, imb ik nha uell, oa tym", her mother adds, mirroring the sweeping movement of her hand towards the small town behind them. Yes, drink from our well, this one time.
Uhrstod looks from one to the other. "I am not armed, and I promise on my soul that I will not do anything hostile towards you."
Vorona says gravely, "Nu promise you not to attack first."
"Nha are armed, aht nha have jov use iko tuh soul", Najwa adds, "but lak - you - uill find no harm here." Najwa raises her hand unhurriedly to her face and fixes her hair.
"That is well." Uhrstod, swallowing once, seems to touch something he has wrapped around his neck, then lowers his hand again. He bows in a dignified manner to the two women, who return the gesture and stroll to the shade of their Tree of Life, Jakaq Bhal, the "Hidden Truth".
"I think we are even now, Najwa?" Uhrstod grins slightly, as his voice cracks. "Excuse me. The heat has dried my mouth."
Najwa nods to Uhrstod the Scorned, pouting. "Jov bhal-li... Gho jov count iko tu jov jalla bak." Not really... Dead doesn't count if you don't fight back.
"Najwa, nharaq bhri; uill tu f'tch fir iko Bhokhar aht our guest?" Vorona suggests, adding "Toa kal, pliis." Najwa, beloved daughter; will you fetch water for Mother and our guest? Two cups, please. Najwa is quiet a moment. This is precisely the type of chore which usually belongs to the servant girl. Najwa finds herself wondering if this Shaklaviri can possibly realize the honor being done him, that he will be served by the daughter of the Khar'uus of Vra'Akar. "Ki", she says, and flounces off to the well.
Uhrstod looks around, then sits.
Vorona takes a seat, then looks up. The Sun still dapples them with bright, hot spots through the branches of Jakaq Bhal. "Shade enough for nu, but jov nu sra for tu." She rises and moves closer to the trunk, beckoning to Uhrstod. "Kum." They reseat themselves for this sure-to-be-unique occasion.
Najwa dips a bucket into the well and draws it forth. She fills both her own cup and her mother's with water, and carries them back without spilling a drop. Bowing, Najwa offers Uhrstod her cup, and the other to her bhokhar.
Uhrstod the Scorned bows his head to Najwa. "Thank you."
"Dek'chi." It is little. Her expression says 'It is NOT little.'
Uhrstod pulls his hood back. He sips some water, keeping his eyes on the two Irekei women at all times. "I thank you for your hospitality."
Najwa pretends not to notice the beads of sweat which coat Uhrstod's shaved skull.
Vorona nods once. "Dek kham given freely, or jov at all." She sips water a moment after him.
Uhrstod takes a piece of cloth out of his one pocket and wipes his head with it. "True."
"Nha'jaha-tu, iko qhis occasion", she continues. We welcome you, for this occasion.
Najwa nods, remaining quiet, waiting for her Bhokhar to speak. She has seated herself to one side, not too far out of the way.
Vorona leans forward, legs crossed like a man, hands on her knees, all avid black eyes and perked, pointed black ears. "State, qhen, uith a wet throat, your business, Uhrstod the Scorned."
"Excuse me, I do not know your language to a vast extent yet." Uhrstod frowns slightly at Vorona. "My last visit here was most... unfortunate." Uhrstod glances at Najwa.
"Nha... We will tri to speak yours for your convenience", Vorona concedes, waving one hand in a gesture of accomodation. "Take your tym."
"I would ask you to release the little one that you keep as a slave", Uhrstod states, "Or Jov'uus, if you prefer that name."
Vorona nods. "I hear your request. It prompts questions."
"Oh?" Uhrstod keeps his eyes focused on Vorona, only glancing at Najwa out of the corner of his eye.
"Irekei are Masters. All other are... not-Masters. We may be specific enough, I think, to say 'the servant'." Vorona tugs off her gloves.
Uhrstod nods at Vorona.
Vorona speaks slowly, clearly thinking about each word. She holds up one forefinger and 'counts' against it with the other, as if specifying a first point. "Release. What does the Tribunal mean by 'release'?" Vorona folds her hands and looks at Uhrstod with earnest curiousity.
"Release her of her state as a... 'servant' here." Uhrstod speaks seriously, concern in every angle of his face. "I will personally be merciful enough to show her the Path of the Cleansing Flame, but the choice will be hers if she wish to walk it. She cannot stay in Cinderholm, however, what ever her choice." Uhrstod pauses. "My superiors and fellow Brothers and Sisters would not appreciate if she did."
Vorona nods. "There is only one other status that those who are not-Masters... not-Irekei... have here... aside from a very rare guest. " She grins.
Uhrstod tilts his head the slightest bit. "Oh, what is that then?"
"That is 'dead'", Vorona explains. "I am telling you, you see, that freed of servitude... for whatever reason... she could no longer stay here. And..." Vorona shrugs a little, nodding at Najwa. "As you say, she could not stay with you. Neither could we under any circumstances see her placed with our enemies... our other enemies... to become one of them." She sighs.
Uhrstod shakes his head slowly.
"So... How long do you think a girl her age would last alone on the vir? Before being sent to some ruined Tree, screaming, without any place or tribe to belong to, prey over and over again to strangers' swords or worse?"
Uhrstod "I could give her some gold... bhon, so that she perhaps could start her new life with that." Najwa smothers a snicker. Uhrstod glares at Najwa, quickly, then turns back to Vorona with a much milder expression on his face. "No soul should ever be held captive; one day of freedom is better than thousand years of prison."
Vorona's face softens, but her voice is firm, as if she has considered this before and resolved herself. "She was born so, and knows nothing else."
"May I ask her age?" Uhrstod inquires, changing the subject a little. "I could make little sense out of her, last time we 'spoke'."
Vorona tilts her head, thinking. "She came to us already a woman, though barely. Not more than two years since her courses began." Vorona holds a hand before her, rocking it palm down in a gesture of equivocation. "At what age that might be for Humans, or half-Humans, I do not know. I have raised one fir'khanim, Human child through the Change to manhood. But, surely, boys are different. Girls mature earlier, or at least it is so amongst Irekei."
Uhrstod nods, as if he already knew this. "It comes at different times for different individuals."
Vorona speaks slowly, thinking back. "He might have been 13 years of age when he showed the signs of maturity-- if I judge correctly. Much guesswork for a thing that we have no need to know. You see the difficulty? She is a young woman. Perhaps she is 14."
Uhrstod: "Perhaps. And she knows nothing except what you have taught her?"
"Her life began in the vir'akt of her dam's Master." She uses the word for an animal's female parent, unconscious distaste marring her face for a moment. "From her recounting of her childhood, she would seem never to have left it until the... misadventure... that led to her coming to us." Vorona shrugs. "What else she might know is a mystery." Vorona ticks off facts on her fingers again. "She speaks our language. She obeys. She is a bit ... odd."
Uhrstod: "She bears the Taint, yes?"
Vorona looks at Uhrstod. Her lips press together.
"Uhat taint?" Najwa eyes Uhrstod.
Vorona glances over at Najwa, smiling faintly.Uhrstod eyes Vorona and Najwa, swallowing slightly. "No matter..."
"Perhaps you should define that term for us, O Servant of the Temple of Cleansing Flame", Vorona suggests. Her face bears no trace of amusement, but something like mischief gleams in her eye. "For I am minded that it is of the essence of the matter."
Uhrstod coughs slightly, a little more sweat running down the sides of his skull. "I took it she was a mix between Human and... Elven blood?"
Vorona leans forward a bit, her empty hands relaxed in her lap. She starts to laugh, but doesn't. She looks down at her feet until she can look up with a nearly straight face.
Uhrstod glances from Vorona to Najwa, then back again.
"Why, do you suppose, would any Nhalaq'oa, a Hated One, an Elf, come to father a child on a servant of the Irekei? Do you suppose we let Them run free of our tents and make use of our servants?" she snaps.
"Elven?", Najwa sneers. "No Elven halfbreed could survive the sands as Chi'chi has."
Uhrstod raises his brows a bit. "Then...?"
"It should be obvious to you that her mother pleased her Master, or at least one of her Masters", Vorona states. "Greatly. Greatly indeed, for being allowed to keep her little qhi'bhana'ov", Vorona says, using the Irekei term for 'bastard', "spawn of dishonor".
Najwa coughs.
"She is of... your blood then? Your kind, that is."
"Khan'vir." Blood of the Desert; it is a thing that even some who seem fully Human have been known to claim-- that somewhere, an ancestor of theirs was Irekei. Vorona ticks off her finger against her thumb, as if summing up. "If there were any question, she would not have been kept."
Uhrstod nods slowly. "Has she been... thoroughly tattooed?"
"Someone has done so, ki. Not just her face, which you have seen."
Uhrstod nods, looking relieved.
"Not the same markings that the Half-Hated bear, not that I pay attention to such things", Vorona continues. "But her markings serve the same purpose, our Prophetess assures us: to calm her."
Uhrstod sighs. "I hope that her mix of blood will not corrupt her mind."
Najwa ponders this and smiles.
Vorona asks, "You worry that her Human blood will corrupt her?" Her tone is sharp.
Uhrstod looks at Vorona, his eyes widening slightly. "Of course not!"
Vorona lets a smirk cross her face slowly, letting his Shaklaviri effrontery slide, but noting it for the future. "Not many such as she are conceived, not many so conceived are carried long, and many are not allowed to be born, or else they may be exposed-- abandoned-- at birth. In the days before the Turning, Death in infancy was the fate of many, and now... well, who is to know the parentage of a foundling at a Ruin? Like the 'Aelf-born', it seems they pass their mixed blood no further."
Uhrstod frowns and wipes his forehead clean of sweat with his cloth. "This is the first I have seen, or even heard of, I believe..."
"Those who are allowed life and who do-- and who in this age does not?-- survive infancy are not Irekei, but they are far stronger-- so it is said-- than the half-breed Elves. And you may have seen one before, with neither you nor it knowing what it truly was" Vorona points out.
Uhrstod shrugs. "That may be true." The Confessor pauses. "I have been thinking over this, and..."
"Ki?" Vorona watches Uhrstod.
"You do have a point when you say that she will not survive long, especially at her young age." Uhrstod looks from Vorona to Najwa then back again, smiling faintly.
"She is not Irekei, to the Irekei. Unless she is once again made a servant, or slave, if you must... They will not tolerate her."
"Correct."
"To the rest of the world, once they discover what she is, she will be "Irekei enough". Those who would destroy us will surely seek her destruction, also."
Uhrstod nods. "They would, most likely."
"You would burn her", Vorona continues. "Any sensible Elf would kill her."
Uhrstod seems defensive. "Burn her... Our intent is good, though all do not see it."
Vorona is unmoved by his declaration. "This good intent... does not undo the flames you would bathe her in."
"It is the Flames that would save her" Uhrstod explains. "For that is how the Cleansing Flame works."
Najwa sighs. "Poor Chi'Chi. You would have to pay much to overcome our attachment to her, for us to let her be 'Cleansed'."
"Much, indeed." Vorona's expression says that any price might not be high enough.
"If that is your wish." Uhrstod stares into the last inch of water in his cup. "If she cannot stay here after being Cleansed, then I think it better for her to avoid Cleansing, until she grows older."
Najwa interjects "Nha - we - do not keep her chained up. She is free to run any time she chooses. When forced to run away..." She frowns at Uhrstod. "She runs back here. In doing so, she has survived the desert before, though for brief times only." She shrugs. "I doubt putting a few bhon in her pocket would increase her chances any", she adds with unmistakable sarcasm.
Uhrstod lifts the cup and drains the last of his water. "Perhaps you do take... better care of her than I first thought."
Vorona speaks quietly and earnestly with her daughter, in her native tongue, then addresses Uhrstod again. "She has never held a weapon but to assist our Smiths. I believe she killed a small snake, once, with a hoe." Vorona: "And she w...." Vorona decides not to finish that thought.
Uhrstod raises an eyebrow, waiting for the rest.
"Jov. She is safest with us, most valuable to us, and cannot be but what she is." Vorona stretches slowly and stands up.
Najwa follows her mother's lead.
Uhrstod looks up at Vorona, then follows her example.
Vorona nods slowly at Uhrstod. "An interesting conversation, however." Together, the two women smile at their guest. "One we may not see the like of again for some time."
Uhrstod nods and smiles softly. "Interesting, indeed."
Najwa inspects one of her nails. "Chi'Chi will be horrified if she finds out we were discussing selling her."
Vorona gives her daughter one of those looks. "Well, we shall not trouble her or burden her with the knowledge. She may have heard this conversation, but will have understood nothing of it."
Uhrstod looks around, then pulls the hood over his head. "That may be for the best, I am sure. Last I met her, she did not seem from her reactions to understand me-- thus, she should have understood nothing of this."
Najwa sings softly, nodding in agreement. "Tu were qhe first fir-- 'wetlander' she had met, poor bhri."
"She was terrified, indeed, even though she had no idea what you were." Vorona takes Uhrstod's cup and hands both empty vessels to Najwa.
Uhrstod shakes his head a bit. "She should not have been terrified, if she only knew our good intent."
Vorona sighs.
Najwa doesn't roll her eyes.
Uhrstod looks at the two Irekei women, still smiling.
"Depart from us in the peace of our shade, then, Uhrstod, and do not..." Vorona pauses for a moment.
Najwa raises an eyebrow.
"Do not return." Vorona adds, "Understood?"
Najwa smiles.
Uhrstod 's face changes for a moment, but changes back too quickly to be read. "If you wish." He adds politely, "Jha'ov".
"Jha'ov", Vorona says, waving to Uhrstod the Scorned. She turns and walks away, letting her guest depart at his own pace. Najwa echoes her and watches as he leaves.