"Lesson in the Library"

Log Date:
	11/18/99

Log Cast:
	Faanshi, Samein

Log Intro:
	The aether-storms and the earthquake that followed have left Haven 
in turmoil, with many mages felled by the backlash of their own power, and
many without the gift of magic injured in the physical side effects. Two 
persons close to the shudra Faanshi were brushed by these crises, for her
teacher FallingStar has been stricken blind--and the Mongrel bard Lyre
Talespinner, of whom Faanshi has grown increasingly fond, was pinned beneath
a collapsed roof as he tried to rescue a child in Bordertown. Faanshi has
thus far been unable to restore FallingStar's sight, but she was able to 
reach Lyre and heal his broken leg and ribs, much to her profound relief.
	Now her other teacher, Samein, is about to summon her to Delphi and
share with her an astonishing tidbit of knowledge that can illumine for 
the girl what exactly she did when she healed the bard who has proclaimed
his love to her....

*===========================< In Character Time >==========================* 
             Time of day:  Night (Duskside) 
          Date on Aether:  Thursday, August 2, 3905. 
           Year on Earth:  1505 A.D. 
       Phase of the Moon:  Waxing Crescent 
                  Season:  Summer 
                 Weather:  Partly Cloudy 
             Temperature:  Warm
*==========================================================================*
A Delphic novice Shaper, clothed in a simple white robe and carrying a scroll 
  with an official-looking seal bursts into the garden, seeking a particular 
  shudra by the name of Faanshi. The scroll itself, when delivered, states in 
  austere, dry prose that would seem characteristic to Samein that he requests 
  your presence, whenever possible, for your next lesson. He shall await you 
  in the Delphic Library. You are merely to show this scroll to gain entrance 
  -- it is signed with another seal at the bottom.

The aroma of baked goods lures you south toward the Rialto.
The Rialto - Haven(#159RDJM)
     Reigning over the Rialto is the very heart of Haven: the Delphic Citadel. 
  It dwarfs the other buildings, which cluster around it like so many children 
  seeking a parent's protection. Day or night, rain or shine, its walls seem 
  to glimmer with a light of their own, as if, over the centuries, the magic 
  within had slowly permeated the entire structure. The main tower soars 
  higher than the tallest tree, and each side tapers inward so that it 
  resembles a giant obelisk. Four smaller towers stand at the four points of 
  the compass, representing the unification of each race under Delphi's 
  government.
     And here is where they all gather. The Rialto is the famed marketplace of 
  Haven, full of shops, stalls, and brightly colored tents. The shouts of 
  merchants, the haggling of patrons, the music of entertainers, and the 
  laughter of children create a nigh-constant cacophony that assaults the 
  senses. But the Rialto is nothing if not exciting, and crowds often gather 
  here for important events and public addresses.
                      (Note: 'places' are enabled here.)                      
Contents: 
Melete 
Thenomain     
Fissure and Bridges    
Infirmary Tent - The Rialto - Haven                
Obvious Exits:
Shimone and Theno's Smithy <STS>  Streets <N,S,E,W,NE,NW,SE,SW>  Delphic 
  Citadel <DC>         

Accompanied by a sizeable dog at her heels and a rather bemused-looking young 
  fellow in the kaftan of a Novice Shaper of Delphi, Faanshi treads quietly 
  into the marketplace... and towards the Delphi Citadel. The maiden's green 
  eyes are all that can be seen of her face, but from the look of those and 
  the nervous glance she casts the Citadel as she and her escort draw near it, 
  it doesn't take much to guess that Faanshi is decidedly nervous about her 
  destination.

[Faanshi timidly follows her escort into the Delphi Citadel, struggling not
 to gape at everything she passes, and her nervousness is not soothed much 
 as her loyal hound is not permitted to accompany her in from the Citadel's
 courtyard. Yet she does not complain, and soon she is brought into the 
 presence of the old mage who has summoned her....]

Passing beneath the arched doors, you enter the large chamber beyond.
Library - Delphic Citadel - Haven
     It is said that all learning originates at the Citadel, and that all 
  recorded history may be found among the shelves of the Tower's great 
  libraries. One of the smaller libraries in the compound, this room boasts a 
  larger collection of tomes than many lords have seen in their lifetimes. The 
  vast chamber is lined with shelves. Halfway up the wall a narrow walkway 
  encircles the room, reachable by small sets of spiraling iron staircases 
  spaced across the length of the chamber. From the walkway up, the great 
  shelves continue until they very nearly reach the ceiling. The highest shelf 
  of books is reachable only by long ladders, not for the faint of heart.
     Poorly lit, the room is shrouded in heavy shadows and has the smell of 
  forgotten memories. What light is allowed is carefully attended lest a stray 
  spark ignite the entire collection. Though the books are always under a 
  watchful eye, many students come here to study and gather for meetings, as 
  this is the most accessible and public of the many other rooms in Tower.
Contents: 
Samein 
Obvious Exits:
Wooden Doors <O> 

Samein is sitting quietly at one of the huge wooden tables, a dusty tome 
  spread out before him. He is reading intently, his frail body hunched over 
  the book, his fingers splayed out in the table beside it. Kosha is most 
  definitely not allowed here -- the attendant who shows you in points Samein 
  out to you, and then turns to leave.

Without her ever-present dog at her side, Faanshi feels even more acutely 
  vulnerable in this unfamiliar place... yet, despite the nervousness that's 
  possessed her, still, she's here. And it's easy to tell even from several 
  paces that the girl's awestruck by everything she's seen in the Citadel thus 
  far. The library, however, elicits a tiny gasp from her and makes her stare 
  in several directions before her escort points out the old mage who sent the 
  scroll. Quite abruptly, Faanshi collects herself, bowing demurely to the 
  attendant and murmuring "Namaste', thank you, imphada," to her before 
  turning to approach you. Uncertain of protocol as she is of everything else 
  in this place, she pauses before drawing too near. Before anyone in 
  Atesh-Gah she would be kneeling by now. Here, though, she falters a moment 
  before settling for another bow. "Namaste', acarya," she ventures. And 
  there's another difference: in Atesh-Gah her gaze would be riveted to the 
  floor. But here, it keeps ranging in quick furtive glances around the room.

Samein glances up from his tome at last, eyes blinking at you, owl-like and 
  distracted. It take him a moment to even properly focus, but when he does 
  you are greeted with a warm smile. "Faanshi. Thank you for coming. Were you 
  given a brief tour, as I requested? Come, come and sit." He rises only 
  slightly from his chair to indicate another, off to the side of the table, 
  before settling back again. "Hopefully this change of venue shall be 
  inspiring. It sometimes is."

"Yes, acarya..." Whether that is acknowledgement of the request to sit or 
  answer to the question, Faanshi doesn't specify. She does, however, step 
  towards the chair even as her gaze flashes left and right and up and down, 
  her eyes dinar-round over the top of her veil. And as though she's been 
  clubbed in the belly, she sinks on legs turned to water into the chair, and 
  utters with a breathless voice, "The... books, acarya... so many...!"

Samein merely smiles, tilting his head to the side to peer up at the books. He 
  murmurs quietly, "Yes." After a brief pause, he adds, "It is wonderful, is 
  it not? It is as if you could absorb the knowledge just by sitting here, 
  breathing it all in." Samein seems to be in a pleasant mood today; serene. 
  He turns back to look at you, prodding gently. "Sit. Fill me in briefly on 
  your life. You have found the Bard, I trust?"

Since she does not currently trust her legs to continue to hold her up, 
  Faanshi does indeed sit. That last question distracts her from her wide-eyed 
  study of the mighty collection of volumes that surrounds her, pulling her 
  gaze round to the old Varati. Her own softens, taking on a bit of a light 
  within as she finds herself abruptly touched by his inquiry. "I found him," 
  she confirms.

Samein nods contentedly, seeming unsurprised by this information. He was so 
  assured as to his safety even in the beginning, if you will remember. "Good, 
  then." His smile breaks free again, warm and gentle. "Then I suppose we 
  should begin. I would not like to keep you too long, in such an unfamiliar 
  place. But this place comforts me, quite frankly. Have you had better luck 
  with your art, since the storms have subsided?"

Between the wonder of the countless books around her and the gentle smiles 
  she's given, slowly but surely, Faanshi seems to become more at ease. 
  "Things... seem easier, acarya," she ventures, straightening up in the chair 
  where she sits. "A roof fell on Lyre, but the other Mongrel men were able to 
  dig him free, and... I healed him! And there was another bard, too, a man in 
  the Rialto... I healed him and it did not tire me at all! It was... 
  different, than when I healed the Empyrean, before the storms...!"

Samein gives a slow nod, glancing downwards at the book that was before him. 
  He finally thinks to close the heavy tome, the pages coming together with a 
  soft sound. "Good. I myself have mostly re-adjusted, I think. My focus on 
  the Aether is almost all-consuming, at least for a time. Although I think 
  that I may be becoming better in Healing, what with our practice together. 
  Do you have any specific questions?"

Questions. Faanshi blinks a few times, trying to figure out where exactly to 
  start. "I..." For an instant she pauses. Then, as though that one invitation 
  opened up a dam, she begins to pepper her companion with a string of queries 
  delivered in a burst of childlike excitement. "Lyre was hurt _here_, and 
  down _here_," she begins, her hands fluttering to point at her own ribs and 
  then at one of her legs. "But I do not know what is in there besides bones, 
  I think, my heart-mother told me that people have bones inside them, they 
  can be broken, yes? And the other man, the other bard, he was hurt _here_" 
  -- her fingers flit to her throat. "He could talk but he said that he could 
  not sing, is there something in the throat that lets someone talk but not 
  sing?"

Samein raises an eyebrow, watching your flood of questions as if they were 
  tangible things, his bemusement evident and growing. As you finish there is 
  a moment of silence, and finally Samein stirs, pushing back his chair. "You 
  have brought up a subject which is at once fascinating and ridiculously 
  intricate. Although many Healers have been able to proceed through entire 
  successful, useful lives without any knowledge of what you ask, others crave 
  that knowledge, and turn it to their benefit, enhancing their own powers in 
  this way." He stands slowly, wincing slightly at the movement of stiff 
  joints. "I myself fall somewhere in between. What you speak of is called 
  Anatomy. I shall try and find some relevant texts."

Faanshi's mouth is hidden as always by the blue gauze veil, but from the 
  suddenness with which she cuts herself off, one might well imagine her mouth 
  snapping shut. "Anatomy," she murmurs in echo, pronouncing the word with 
  much the same wonder that a starving person might say 'food', or a pious 
  person the name of his or her patron deity. Drawn by the prospect of 
  increased proximity to the books, she rises to her feet... before she 
  catches herself in consternation. "May I... help you carry them, sir? Is it 
  permitted, for--" And again she cuts herself off. She doesn't actually say 
  'for one such as I', but the words are obvious enough in her humbled tone 
  and gaze.

Samein's voice drifts back to you, calm but with a greater degree of firmness. 
  "Sit. Relax. You are a guest, here." He is stooped now, scanning a 
  particular row of books, withdrawing one, and then another. He seems to be 
  in no particular hurry. Finally his voice drifts to you again, "Would you 
  like some tea?"

Eighteen years of servitude are hard to overcome -- not to mention Faanshi's 
  general inclination towards trying to provide assistance if assistance is 
  needed, regardless of that being her station in life anyway. She sits, 
  albeit uncertainly, while she blurts out, "I... do not think I am used to 
  being a guest anywhere, sir." It's shudra's habit, too, that makes her look 
  around again at the mention of libations. "Tea... I could pour that...?"

Nope. No tea to be found, anywhere. And would you really want to risk drinking 
  it around all of these books? Samein lets the matter rest as he meanders 
  back towards the table, hauling along three oversized tomes. These are 
  placed upon the table with a loud thud, a bit of dust kicking up from their 
  point of impact, causing Samein to send out a few hoarse coughs. "Here we 
  are. I am sure there are more, but they are certainly more hidden."

Tea -- or rather, the absence thereof -- is promptly forgotten as the books 
  are placed before the halfbreed girl. Her nose crinkles up beneath her veil 
  at the dust that rises up from the volumes, but dust is not exactly a 
  deterrent to a shudra who is accustomed to spending most of her days 
  eradicating dust from her immediate vicinity. Nor does it deter a girl who 
  apparently finds books one of the most fascinating things in her existence. 
  Eyes widening all over again, Faanshi leans forward in her chair, a hand 
  lifting reverently as if she might touch the covers of these wonders, but 
  she stops herself before doing so.

Samein continues coughing for a moment longer, even as he swivels the topmost 
  of the books a bit to face him, and carefully opens the cover. The old man 
  squints downwards in the dim light, turning a few pages. Finally, and 
  without any comment just yet, he swivels the book around once more, showing 
  you a painstaking drawing of a man's body, apparently flayed open, crude 
  approximations of bone structure and muscle layers and the like all 
  included. It is a dense, scientific schematic, but it is also, at some 
  level, a dirty picture of a naked guy. An itneresting dichotomy.

It's safe to say Faanshi has never seen anything like _this_ before. Another 
  of those small gasps escapes her, as her hand flies up to where her mouth 
  must be behind her veil and her eyes go round all over all. "Ushas," she 
  breathes, stunned, a little frightened, a little revulsed... and fascinated 
  in spite of it all. Her hand comes down to sketch a reflexive sigil of the 
  Lady of the Dawn across her breast, as she turns horrified eyes to you, her 
  volunteered mentor. "H-how... was... this picture made, acarya?" she 
  stammers.

Now that's an interesting question. Perhaps Samein had never particularly 
  considered it, or perhaps he never thought of it as important. Probably the 
  latter. The old man peers down at the picture for a moment, and then replies 
  calmly, "A series of Mongrel dissections, I would imagine. They are called 
  autopsies. The composite of their findings were probably used to make this 
  drawing, for this book, and reflects upon the findings and commentary 
  within." He pauses again, and then adds, "This will much better illustrate 
  the answers to your questions than my words ever could."

Faanshi abruptly starts to tremble, her gaze flying back to that picture, the 
  horror spiking up sharply in her eyes to dislodge the trace of fascination 
  there. "Someone did _that_ to a Mongrel?" she wails tinily, sounding all at 
  once as though she is liable to be ill.

Samein seems honestly confused, his attention fully upon you now, his eyebrows 
  raised. He adds somewhat tentatively, "Well. One that was already dead, of 
  course. And they probably didn't do exactly that." Not being a mortician, 
  Samein probably hadn't really considered the mechanics of it. Why should you 
  care what they do to dead bodies?

"Dead," Faanshi repeats, as though not quite comprehending. A moment later 
  comprehension sinks in, and she visibly slumps, grabbing at the table for 
  support as relief surges through her and collides hard with the fear and 
  horror that the idea of someone cutting open the body of a Mongrel had 
  summoned up within her. "They... did it... to a dead man?" she adds tinily, 
  just to make sure she understood. "Oh... Oh, Ushas..." Clearly shaken, the 
  maiden presses her fingers to her brow for a moment, trying to get her 
  composure back.

Samein seems to be struggling a bit with this entire concept, and there are 
  definite cracks in his own patient composure. To sum up, the old man seems 
  in danger of becoming rather irate, if all of this wailing and 
  goddess-invoking were to continue. In fact, he already is beginning to seem 
  downright grumpy, not bothering to explain any further as he swivels the 
  book back around to face him, and turns the page.

Perhaps the girl senses the shift in his mood, for when she peeks up again, 
  her eyes have changed expressions. No longer quite so horrified, their gaze 
  is beginning to turn uncertain nevertheless. Has she given offense somehow? 
  Shame flushes her cheeks behind their silken veil; down goes her gaze. "I... 
  do not think that the books would be... very useful to me, acarya," she 
  admits, her voice growing small. "I cannot read much more than the words my 
  heart-mother taught me for making rida scrolls."

Samein's tone is bone-dry now, a clinical recitation of ideas which does not 
  allow for human warmth, at least for the moment. "Reading was unnecessary, 
  in this instance. If you truly wish to learn, you shall overcome such issues 
  of personal worth." The old man seems to struggle for a moment, and there is 
  the impression of a mitigation of his initial reaction, a weak smile. He 
  finally looks at you. But he can think of nothing more to say. He has been 
  hurt, that much is sure. As if whoever dissected the dead Mongrel bears 
  emotional significance to him.

Faanshi risks another glance up, troubled by what appears to be her recurring 
  habit of perturbing her newfound friend and teacher, all unknowingly. "Sir, 
  if... if I have given offense," she blurts, "I am sorry... I thought... the 
  dye-sec-shun" -- the unfamiliar word causes her to stumble, but she gives it 
  a go nonetheless -- "was... done on a l-living man. I... um... most of... my 
  friends are Mongrels, sir."

Samein tries again, and manages a somewhat more convincing smile. "Ah. Yes, I 
  suppose I did not quite make that clear, initially. It would be useless to 
  try such a thing, even if one desired it. The blood would make any sort of 
  visibility impossible, I would think. Not to mention the waste." Then it 
  dawns on him anew: perhaps this wasn't the best tact. Samein pauses again, 
  and seems now a bit at a loss. He coughs lightly. "In any case, there has 
  never been anyone killed or hurt by these diagrams. I think they would help 
  answer some of your questions." Yes. There. Safer ground.

The skin round Faanshi's eyes goes noticeably paler at the thought of the 
  amount of blood that would have to well up from a body that would sustain 
  enough wounds to show the detail in the picture she's been shown. But to her 
  credit, this time she does not seem overcome by her imagination. Instead she 
  straightens again, squaring her dainty shoulders and managing to look more 
  composed. "I will look at them," she answers earnestly, beginning to return 
  her attention to the tome lying open before her. Then she catches herself 
  again. "Should I do this now, acarya? Or... um...." It is not as if she is 
  very familiar with having a teacher, but it seems very odd to her that she 
  appears to have thus far dictated the course of her actions here. "Do you 
  have other things that I need to learn?" There. That expresses what she 
  wants to know.

Samein pauses for a moment, clearing his throat yet again, and looks at you 
  for a long moment, as if discerning now whether or not you are serious. 
  Finally he lifts the tome from the top of the others, and moves the others 
  aside. He flips a few more pages, and presents to you a very similar 
  drawing, this one a bit less cluttered, the bones more emphasised than the 
  muscles. He points towards the lower half of the man's chest. "Most parts of 
  the body have bones, and those bones can break. In the case of the chest, 
  those bones are ribs, the sturdy cage the body uses to protect the internal 
  organs inside. While breaking ribs is painful, it is not nearly so 
  debilitating as most other bones, and the body usually heals itself, given 
  enough time."

It seems indeed that Faanshi is quite serious. Daunted she might be by the 
  depictions of what lies beneath the skin, but she turns her attention 
  dutifully to the drawings. "Ribs," she murmurs. Her hand lifts to her own, 
  unconsciously near to where she remembers breaks in the ribs of the Mongrel 
  bard she'd healed. Then another thought occurs to her, and she pipes, "This 
  is what Mongrels are like inside? Is it different for people who are not 
  Mongrels?" Up comes her gaze and then down it goes again, but this time it 
  is curiosity rather than shyness that diverts it, for she is peering down 
  towards her own ribs. "I have ribs inside of me?"

Samein nods slightly in affirmation, seeming to think this quite a reasonable 
  question. His patient demeanor has returned now, and he shuffles forward a 
  bit in his seat, seeming to warm up to the teaching, to the flow of 
  information. "Yes. Mongrels are used as a base standard, but all of the 
  basic anatomy between the races is similar, even with the various add-ons 
  and changes -- wings for Empyreans, gills for Atlanteans, somewhat tougher 
  skin for Varati. While the patterns in the Aether for the various races 
  might be vastly different, even from person to person, the bone structure is 
  nearly identical. Very useful for the healer." He pauses, drawing a finger 
  down the picture to the man's leg. "The bone in the thigh is very thick and 
  strong, and when it breaks, it is difficult to heal by conventional methods. 
  Magical healing is a godsend, in this instance. The same holds true for the 
  bones lower in the leg, which seperate into two, and can be easily dislodged 
  by trauma. In both cases, it is quite difficult for the subject to walk 
  without further injuring himself, until healing has been executed. Make sure 
  there is no undue movement, until you're sure that the bone is secure."

The maiden pokes a tentative finger where she supposes her ribs must be, 
  though she can't quite feel them beneath the layers of her sari and choli. 
  That dainty sungolden finger then pokes, very cautiously, at the diagram on 
  the page in front of her and follows Samein's gesture down to the depicted 
  leg. Her other hand pokes at her own matching leg -- and then, all at once, 
  she proclaims in tones of bright revelation, "That is where Lyre's leg was 
  hurt! And he did not want the other men to move him, so I healed him, and 
  then he could get up." This last is appended almost marvellingly.

Samein gives a very faint shrug, unsmiling, although when he looks at you 
  there is a certain benevolence, a softeness around the corners of his eyes. 
  He murmurs quietly a renewed caveat, "Indeed, as I said, you could quite 
  easily pursue your craft through intuition, never learning this information. 
  I find it helpful, however, in focusing my somewhat limited energies, 
  conserving them. While you could just as easily project energy onto the 
  entire leg, if you heal the bone first, you have eliminated the most major 
  problem, and the body itself could deal with the rest. Then you would be 
  able to choose. Heal the bruising and swelling around the break, or move on 
  to heal another, if it were to come down to that."

Considering this, Faanshi listens with her delicate dark brows knitting 
  together in thought. "I... have... always... just... touched someone," she 
  says then, looking for the proper words. "And... I would feel... things that 
  were 'wrong' and try to make them be 'right'... it will make me a better 
  healer, if I know the things that are inside the body?" Her brows knit 
  further. "But now my magic feels... easier than it did... before the aether 
  storms. And it was easier then before it was when I went to Avalon... but 
  perhaps that is just because I have been practicing?" Green eyes swing their 
  attention back to your aged face, as she tries to reason through this out 
  loud.

Samein gives a rather thin, patient smile, his hands reaching towards each 
  other, folding over each other over top of the drawing as you speak. He 
  takes a moment, then, to unravel your words in his head, and respond. "It.. 
  /may/ make you a better healer, to understand these things. I make no 
  promises. I believe that it has made me a better healer, but I also believe 
  that if I had not become any better at my craft, I still would have 
  appreciated the knowledge, in and of itself." He pauses a moment to 
  emphasize this point, and then continues, "I am joyful that some of your 
  blockage has begun to ease. We will continue to work on basic control of 
  your abilities, but I offer the study of Anatomy as an interesting side 
  note. Take it or leave it, as offered. My knowledge will not suffer, either 
  way."

"I can... come and look at these books... at any time?" Faanshi asks. The 
  concept is almost too much for her to grasp from the sound of her voice, as 
  though she's trying to make herself believe that she's being granted access 
  into a treasure chamber or the private apartments of a great kshatri lord.

Samein nods once again, truly smiling at you now as he reaches to close the 
  heavy tome. He gives a few heavy blinks, and then begins to rise to his 
  feet. "Yes. There will be a justifiable demand that you be escorted at all 
  times. These books are irreplacable. But there shall always be someone to 
  escort you, if you ask. I will do so, at any time I am available." The old 
  mage straightens, once again wincing slightly at the stiffness of his 
  joints, and stretches upwards, wearily.

"You are tired," Faanshi realizes. "I should leave... you should rest, sir...!"

Samein does not attempt to argue with you, reaching down to gather up the 
  collection of musty tomes, for now. He cradles them to his chest like 
  fragile children. "I suppose so. I regret the relative brevity of our lesson 
  today, but it was a worthwhile introduction to the Library. I shall either 
  send for you again, or see you here on your own accord at some later date." 
  His smile is gentle. "Take care, Faanshi."

Slowly, the girl rises to her feet. Reluctance to leave this place as well as 
  relief that she has moved past the earlier awkwardness in the conversation 
  can be gleaned from those expressive eyes of hers, veil or no veil. She 
  takes in the way the books are lifted into your arms, finding the careful 
  handling to sit well with her. It makes sense. "Thank you, sir," she 
  breathes, her voice abruptly very full of wonder and warmth and gratitude 
  for which she cannot find the words, but which give her words... her entire 
  being, really... wings all the same. It's that tone again of someone 
  starving pronouncing the word 'food' -- though for this big-eyed 
  woman-child, the sustenance presented her is for her hungry young mind. Her 
  hands flit to her breast, clasping there, and she bows over them with a 
  deference that does not in the slightest diminish the joy seeming to kindle 
  in her. "Namaste'...! I shall return when you call for me... perhaps 
  sooner...!"

[End log.]