"The Lioness Visits Behzad" Log Date: 12/15, 12/16/99 Log Cast: Faanshi, Numair, Shahar Log Intro: It has been slow going at best, but somehow Faanshi has managed to persevere in the task of surreptitiously healing the stricken Varati Clan Behzad -- she, and others smuggled into the Clanhall by the efforts of Ranjeet Khalida and Shahar al-Jehan Khalida, the Foreign Minister and the Pasha of Haven. Faanshi does not know who these others are, but their efforts, like hers, are ever so gradually beginning to have an effect. The people of Behzad are being healed of their sicknesses and wounds, grown dire since the earthquake that rattled Haven. And more and more of the Clan are beginning to turn against the Warlord that has brought them all to such a state. But a healer cannot fix hunger, and for all that Faanshi's efforts in particular have brought her to the attention of the Nayaka Numair, still more aid is needed if the Clan is to survive this crisis. Fortunately for Behzad, those who have sent the secret help into their midst are not leaving that help entirely to them alone. Indeed, the Lioness of Khalida can use her exalted position to accomplish what her agents cannot: entry into the Clanhall without the torment of the 'cleansing' showers, the better to see with her own eyes what more needs to be done... and to subtly convey to one humble halfbreed shudra that her efforts have been noticed by more eyes than those of the Panther of Behzad.... *===========================< In Character Time >===========================* Time of day: Noon Date on Aether: Friday, September 22, 3905. Year on Earth: 1505 A.D. Phase of the Moon: Waning Crescent Season: Late Summer Weather: Partly Cloudy Temperature: Hot *==========================================================================* Numair's Quarters - Behzad Hall - Haven(#2716RAD$) The private quarters of the Nayaka are quite large compared to a normal suite, still smaller than the Warlord's, but that is as it should be. The suite being as somber as it's owner, the main lounging area is set openly and in dark colors. The sunlight streaming from a small window and the balcony cascades over black and purple velvets and silks and many, many pillows. On the far side of the room, residing on black velvet pillows that match their fur, lay two beautifully sleek black panthers. Upon each creature's neck resides a white-gold, jewell-encrusted collar hooked to a long silver chain to the wall, giving them free reign of the room but not outside of it. They lounge contentedly unless their master or their territory is in danger. Seperated by hanging velvet curtains, three rooms come off of this main one. The far one opened to reveal a smallish shrine for meditations and worship of the Amir-al. Another leads to a large bedroom. And the third covered with heavier curtains that are left open and leads out to a balcony facing eastward with a beautiful view of the lands around Haven and the glorius sight of the sun high in the sky. The heavy scents of patchouli and darchini (similar to cinnamon) waft about the suite, giving it a comfortable, close feel. <> Contents: Numair Obvious Exits: Hallway Of all of the pronouncements Warlord Sakhr has made in Clan Behzad as of late, the prohibition against the use of the left hand is one that can be avoided to some extent by a shudra who's keeping a low profile to begin with. Opening doors with the left hand is easy enough; so is knocking. As she is quietly summoned to the Nayaka's quarters, the noise of Yamineh's knock upon the door is no different than it would have been from her right hand -- which is to say, discreet upon the fine wood of the door before her. A rumble emits from the ornately carved door. A rumble that conveys an apparent frustration along with the barely understandable words "Come forth." Left hand, right hand, who cares. This is a man obviously troubled by the state of things. A reality that, for him, was the epitomy of perfection is rapidly crumbling into a damned mockery of existence. Either way. Things _will_ change eventually. The door opens; the shudra girl is there. As quietly as she's done all else within this Clanhall, she enters the room and closes it behind her, stepping with downcast eyes into the chamber and looking up only enough to determine Numair's location. "You wished to see me, imphadi?" she can be heard to murmur from behind her scarlet veil. Stretched out on his pillows accross the room, Numair resides in comfortable silk clothing. The expression on his face would probably drop many who know him to their knees. It is a rare few who have seen any anger upon the countenance of the Nayaka, and few would want to see it again. His eyes are fiery, the golden orbs in the center slightly unfocused as if he is lost in his own thoughts. Black eyebrows are pinched together over those eyes, his brow taut with the tension in his form. Finally, his mouth is set into a straight, unyielding line that seems to speak volumes about these times he lives in. But the anger is not drawn upon the small shudra. In fact, upon seeing her, the lines seem to melt away by pure effort and willpower. His lips curve slightly into a smile and he replies in a strangely soft voice for the usually robust commander "Aye I did. Have a seat if you would, imphada." always with the formal titles even to her. Odd as always despite his current funk. She who has been calling herself Yamineh peeks up, surprised as always seems to be her habit when she is thusly addressed. Tentatively, slowly, she settles herself down upon another nearby cushion and takes up the posture of one long familiar with the proper way to kneel comfortably for extended periods of time. Her hands, the hands that have been surreptitiously at work to maintain the health of dozens of people across the Clanhall for weeks now, intertwine their fingers as they come to rest against her thighs. "How may I serve?" comes her shy murmur. With a broad yawn and a stretch, Dharma, the female panther previously sleeping near Numair awakens and looks about the room. Her dark golden eyes catch on the shudra for a moment but she simply tilts her head and then lays back down, closing eyes and seemingly contenting the woman's presence. Diya at this same time comes striding out of another room where his ornate chain could still reach. He sniffs the air and pauses for a split second but also seems to ignore the woman, instead opting to move and lay down in front of Numair at which point he pushes his head against the Nayaka's hand persistently. The Nayaka releases a small chuckle and begins scratching the ears of the huge beast, a more genuine smile playing over his lips as he turns again to watch the young woman. For a moment, those odd eyes seem to peer _into_ rather than at you, but finally he relents to speak, his voice regaining that purring deepness he normally exhibits "I asked you here because I was curious about the extents of your magic. I have a few questions if you wouldn't mind my prying?" he grins at the end. A handsome, almost playful grin that could only leave you wondering if this is the same man you just saw frowning and in a bad mood. Either he's a _stupendous_ actor or he is simply shrugging off his problems for the moment. Indeed, a glimmer of bemusement might be noted in the wide, slanted green eyes above the fringe of the red veil -- at least, in the brief fraction of an instant in which Yamineh dares to peek upward. Her nervousness is also nevertheless easily read in the subtle awkwardness of her stance, though whether it is derived from the presence of the big felines the Nayaka keeps or from the Nayaka himself is difficult to say. "I... do not mind, imphadi," she answers, a trifle awkward, a trifle confused, but as always entirely earnest. Smiling the entire time, the Nayaka shakes his head for a moment and then says "Will you do me one other favor during this small discourse upon mana? Please look up and attempt to not be nervous here. Neither I, nor my friends will harm you in any way, shape, or form. And, as I've said before. Propriety is a good thing in public and when the occasion calls. But in my private residence with only my eyes and the feline's, I don't think you have much to worry about in reference to being formal." he pauses then finally adds "But...if it is simply in your nature to be uncomfortable, I suppose I cannot change that." Yamineh pauses, silent for several long moments, before she finally murmurs, "I... was ordered to keep my gaze down at all times within this Clanhall, imphadi, by he who sent me to aid." Numair piques an ebon eyebrow to that, shrugging slightly and replying "Very well then. At least try to be less tense here. I mean you no harm. I simply want to find out more information about your magic that I might be able to put to use to help my Clansmen better. Firstly, you know of the extreme shortage of food yes?" his voice wavers slightly, almost imperceptibly, with anger at the mention of this but it might have been something you simply imagined for all that it lasted. The softest of sighs, almost indefinable but which just might be a relieved little breath the shudra girl permits herself, sounds from Yamineh. Her black-saried head nods a single time in acknowledgement regarding the assurance of safety, and then once more at that final question. "I have been aware of that situation, yes, imphadi," she answers in that quiet little voice of hers. Numair nods simply and smoothly, continuing to say "Very well. My question is this. Though I know you have toiled long and hard for us, and I might say have done a commendable job, I was curious as to whether your powers could alleviate some of the pain of hunger? I came across a small child yesterday trying to kill a small rodent to relieve his mother from the crippling pangs that have struck her. It brought my attention to the state of my men as well. While they have healed from their burns and such, and have even adapted to training only one-handed..." his voice resumes that slight tension for a moment but he releases a steady, meditative breath and continues, "...they are reaching a point of deterioration since many are not eating so that their wives and children may. If there is nothing you can do, then I understand. I indend to confront Sakhr about these barbar..." he catches himself in the midst of treason and quickly commends "purifications, but until such time as he relents that we are as 'pure' as possible then I do not wish for my people to lie in wretched pain from lack of sustenence(sp?)." he shakes slightly at the last part, the anger seeming to want to come out, but his golden eyes intently stare into the woman once more. The shudra girl is no stranger to hunger -- neither in her own personal experience, nor in the observations she's made both during her private forays through Bordertown and her most recent experiences in this benighted Clan's hall. Although her head is bowed slightly downward, the way her eyes abruptly squeeze shut in reaction to the plight of the young one Numair describes is obvious. "I... would give... much to the Lady of the Dawn, imphadi, if I could chase hunger from the body." she answers after a moment or two, her voice strained and torn between what seems to be her habitual awkwardness... and a ring of experience and truth that goes past that somehow. "But... it has been my experience... that the best cure for hunger is food. I have... sometimes lent strength to one who hungers... but if they do not eat..." Her hands lift because her eyes cannot, the slender fingers spreading helplessly as she gazes with a mournful, liquid stare down upon them. Numair nods again, this time almost sadly, his eyes forming a slightly resigned air about them. "Then I suppose we cannot just weather Sakhr's current...trends of thought. I will have to speak with him as soon as I can. The people cannot take much more of this." his head lowers and the male panther looks up to him and rumbles something that could almost be called an inquisitive tone. Numair simply strokes it's head and looks off into space for the moment. It is hardly her way to volunteer to speak to a kshatri -- but the shudra girl's heart is heavy, and has been for many days now. So much more so must be the hearts and souls of the disconsolate Clan among which she's crept as a healing shadow, it seems to her. And for all that she can hardly call herself experienced in judging the hearts of men, this warrior before her _seems_ to care greatly for the turmoil suffered by his people. Thus does she who calls herself Yamineh now murmur, "Imphadi... would you... mind if I spoke?" Numair piques that black eyebrow a gain, those golden eyes seeming to twinkle even as he smiles slightly and replies "If I didn't wish you to speak, little one, then I wouldn't have called you to my private chambers. Thus, yes, speak your mind as it will come. I hold no grudges for opinions." This seems to be a rare enough thing that the girl peeks swiftly up again, perhaps needing sight to confirm this voiced permission. She bobs her head a single time, and then breathes anxiously, "Then... I beg you, imphadi, go to the Amir-al. He delivered _me_ from the Warlord of Sarazen, and if the Most High's compassion extends itself to a lowly one such as I... surely, so much greater must it be for an entire Clan that suffers!" As she speaks, her voice gains surety and clarity, and despite the order she's mentioned that has bidden her keep her eyes down, her gaze remains uplifted as long as she gives rein to the words that tumble so swiftly out of her, as if she cannot quite believe that leave to speak will be long-lived and she must say what is in her heart as quickly as possible. With a slight sigh he shifts off his pillows, stroking the great black cat once more before standing up in a fluid motion and offering his hand to faanshi while replying "Yes. I will speak with him. But you have to understand that since his brother's death, Sakhr has...changed. Either way, come with me for a walk. I need to get out of here and check upon my men. They have been getting hurt often enough that I would appreciate your company if you would not mind imphada." The maiden blinks, _most_ unaccustomed to a warrior's hand being offered her. With trepidation she slips her own into it. Despite her apparent timorous nature and the apparent fragility of her hands, her grip is both gentle and firm. Softly, she gets to her feet and murmurs only, "As you wish, Imphadi Nayaka." Numair pulls her up easily and gently, then snaps his fingers once, both of the great cats sit up and walk to him. He unclasps their chains from the collars and then scratchs both before starting towards the door, the panthers following him closely. He opens the door and guestures for the shudra to go first and then follows her swiftly to the courtyard, staying silent the entire time really. [And shortly...] You pass through the massive doors back into the courtyard. Courtyard - Behzad Clan Hall - Haven(#388RAJLh$) High walls of roughly hewn stone loom overhead, and the worn stonework of the floor indicates that the dwelling ahead was built a long, long time ago. Obviously built for a wealthy Varati, this courtyard has been constructed to resemble a subterranean vara. Around the perimeter of the courtyard are small buildings--stables on either side, one for horses, the other for firedrakes; a kitchen; a small forge. Over the massive oaken door leading into the house hangs a large crimson flag, matching the livery of the Behzad guards that stand on either side of the door on formal occasions. Contents: Numair Shahar Greenhouse - Behzad Clan Hall - Haven Obvious exits: Massive Doors Street Stepping out into the midday sun, this tall Nayaka is quite a sight to see at the moment. Clad in dark silks and moving with a litheness that almost matches the two large black panthers walking beside him, one on each side, he seems to be both looking out over the courtyard with his odd golden eyes while, at the same time, speaking with the young shudra girl who seems to have come out with him. For her part, the Pasha of Haven has emerged from the brocade and bejeweled palanquin that presently rests beside four beefy naraki of Varati heritage, their bare chests glimmering in the afternoon sun. An octet of guards remains nearby, four dread Agni-Haidar, four ranking Khalida soldiers, keeping an eye on their charge. Shahar herself is impassive, like a javelin of slender-cut ruby staked out in the summer sun. It is impossible to miss the entourage of the Pasha -- or the Pasha herself. A swift green glance in that direction from the shudra might momentarily betray the identity of the girl, for all that at the moment she is clad predominantly in black with a touch of crimson, rather than her more usual colors. Numair, at her side, is close enough to hear the little gasp of startlement that escapes her at the sight. Numair speaks in a soft tone that carries only partially through the courtyard as he says to the shudra "Do you truly believe that Sakhr will change his ways? After all of....?" His gaze is suddenly shifted as the jewels and ornate colors of the palanquin catches his eye. He piques one ebon eyebrow for a moment, then turns to Yamineh saying "Sorry to interupt our conversation, imphada..." odd him using such a formal title for one so informal "...but I must attend to this." without another word he begins to stride forth towards the enterage(sp?) at the gate. His movements once again taking that fluid, graceful feel that matches the great ebon cats that still stride beside him. As he approaches he calls out "Namaste imphada, how may I help you?" he comes to the point of the gate where another inch and he would technically be crossing over and thus, by Sakhr's little rules, would be required to take another shower. Seeing that he didn't quite enjoy the first two, he stops at that point to bow deeply and formally to the Pasha. The panthers receive cursory glances: one of similar breeding has been seen in the Pasha's chamber, and thus she finds no cause for startlement at the sleek lines of a pair here. Without alteration of her expression, in a voice rich as honeyed tea, she answers lowly, "Namaste, Imphadi Nayaka, and greetings from the Clan of the God-King, Khalid, may He live a thousand lifetimes in joy and happiness. I am called Shahar, of the Khalida. On behalf of my clan, I visit Behzad." She who currently answers to Yamineh, as Shahar and Numair greet one another, silently follows the latter... but only to stay just outside earshot. And, silently, the girl sinks to her knees in deference to the Pasha, her head humbly lowered. Sighing slightly, Numair replies in a deep tone that seems to rumble from his chest like a purr "And, on behalf of Clan Behzad, I greet you Imphada. Yet, on decree of Warlord Sakhr, if you wish to enter here you must go through the ritual cleansing showers." his tone turns slightly icy at the last part, not directed at the pasha obviously, but not happy about the situation either. He continues with a slight frown, an expression that speaks wonders for the normally stoic Nayaka. "If your business is with Sakhr himself, I also regret to inform that he is currently...indisposed. And thus, unable to greet you himself. May I ask how I may serve you though Pasha?" The glittering greenish gold eyes above the Pasha's veil flicker in Yamineh's direction, though the results of that glance are difficult to glean. She then focuses on Numair and addresses the matter of the showers first. "Should such a thing be requisite for my entry into this Hall, Nayaka, then rest assured I shall accommodate the wishes of the Warlord...should he find no cause to worry about possible future repercussions. As to the cause of my visit, suffice to say that I was told that an earlier visit from my husband, the Foreign Minister, Ranjeet Khalida, was tense at best. I seek causes and eventual amity between our people." Numair nods in reply to that, a simple, smooth motion and yet his odd golden amber eyes never leave the Pasha's. Finally he says in the same deep voice "And such would be a truly great and wonderful thing, Imphada. Clan Behzad has honored Khalida these past years and thus would not wish to strain relations between us. However, I feel that in our last meeting, there were extenuating circumstances. The Warlord had recently lost his brother and the Shakir of our clan and thus was very much in grieving. He perhaps gave the air of tension to the situation but I can assure you, he meant no dishonor upon Clan Khalida or the honorable Foreign Minister." Shahar purses her lips, for little is left to the imagination thanks to the gossamer-like facial veil she wears, and above one feline eye a slender ebon brow arches elegantly and eloquently. "I should hope not, Nayaka. One hears so many things of goings-on behind the walls of Clan Behzad's walls. I have much interest in witnessing myself the state of your Clan's hall and the people within." Numair releases a slight frown that disappears almost as fast as it came about then nods and walks to one of the guards, a gaunt and actually pale example of a Varati, to whisper something to him. The man nods and says in a prompt voice "Yes my Nayaka" and then slams the butt of his ornamental spear into the ground and turns away from the proceedings. Upon hearing the rap of the spear, the rest of the guards turn away also. With the frown slightly more evident, Numair looks back to Shahar and says in a low voice that could almost have a trace of sadness to it to the perceptive. Enter freely Imphada Pasha. I only ask that you do not judge harshly. Remember that the Warlord still mourns." the hint of sadness flares slightly at the end again. Obviously this is a man whom he retains a great deal of respect for, despite the recent events within the Clan, and thus it pains him to show what is truly happening. The shudra girl has stoically maintained her position, quite willing to kneel until Numair -- or even Shahar -- bids her do something else. She peeks up, only once and swiftly, to try to see what the kshatri are doing... and hoping that the Pasha will not be forced to step into the showers. Shahar did not ascend to her positions, as a woman in a patriarchal society, by losing her cool in times of difficulty. Impassive still, she acknowledges Numair's courtesy, then gestures for Yamineh to rise. "I am grateful, Nayaka," murmurs the Lioness of Khalida in a rumble that suits her moniker well, "for the assistance. And grateful for your company." Numair nods once, watching the woman with those odd golden eyes even while his hands rest upon the two panthers at his sides, seeming to take comfort in their company. They rumble slightly as they look upon the agni-haidar but don't make any real movements, content to simply be scratched behind the ears. Upon Shahar's indication for Yamineh to rise, he piques an eyebrow slightly and awaits the young shudra's reactions. And she reacts as any shudra should, lifting herself immediately to her feet and dropping a deep respectful bow as she does so. The maiden waits silently, head at exactly the proper angle to keep hands that might beckon for her in sight without meeting eyes, along with the general motion of the nobles and the Pasha's retinue before her. And, as is her habit, Shahar unclasps the veil covering her hair and features, the show of one dealing with an equal, and offers the cloth to the young woman lingering beside Numair. A shudra has her uses, after all. "I await, then, your leisure and pleasure, Imphadi Nayaka." Numair guestures for the woman and her men to come in, the guards still looking away from them to keep themselves safe if this ever _does_ come to light. For a moment, Numair pauses, but he finally gives in to his personal honor and loyalty to his Clan over his loyalty to Sakhr. He starts walking smoothly, the great ebon cats keeping perfect stride with him as he looks around and says too the Pasha in that deep, purring voice "What would you like to see first Imphada?" The guards, by the way, are not going to abandon Shahar. She is their charge, and should any harm befall her, a far worse fate would be visited upon them. Something that might be a soft breath escapes the shudra girl as she is entrusted with the Pasha's veil -- but she accepts it with reverent hands, cradling it gently within her fingers and settling into place a discreet and respectful distance behind the Nayaka and the august visitor to the Clanhall. As of yet, though, Yamineh still holds her tongue. Stepping into the actual courtyard, the scents of incense that could be easily detected outside become almost overwhelming. A cloying, sickly-sweet scent that hangs over everything and seems to almost burn the eyes until you become used to it. Near the gate stands the showers. One constantly being filled with icy water, the other being constantly boiled to blistering heat. The people that go about their business in the Hall seem to have given up hope. Dredging around slowly, the weight of inevitability seeming to slacken the shoulders of all. Accross the courtyard their resides a large open-air tent, cots strewn out below it with people laying upon them. People not hurt from cuts or burns, such as Yamineh's gift has given them that. No, these people are those two weak or pained from the hunger, or who have passed out from exhertion in the cloying incense. In the far corner of the yard, a small Varati boy, ribs pressing against his clothing, chases a small rat around, trying to kill it with a stick. Though the distance in Shahar's expression, smooth and difficult to read, remains unshakable, the honey-gold color of her complexion seems to lose a hint of its hue. Fingers clasp the pendant about her neck, and her eyes widen ever so slightly while her gaze encompasses every detail...slowly, carefully, as if she were memorizing everything she sees. Numair gestures around sadly "Welcome to Behzad Hall Imphada. I'm not sure what you expected. Or even what you've heard in rumor. But a great deal of it is probably true. Look around if you like, ask any questions that you like. Either way, Sakhr will probably not be around. He's been keeping to himself a great deal as of late." "How long has the Hall been in this state?" inquires the Pasha, levelly, as if she were in the process of discussing the weather or an object d'art. Only the bleached condition of her cheeks betrays the high degree to which she finds this atmosphere distasteful. Numair turning back to her, his hands still resting upon the large cats "Since the earthquake I suppose. That was when Bal passed on and when the great hall's cieling collapsed again." at this he looks up to the Hall, noting the few workers trying to mend the cieling even after this much time. "Soon after that he declared the showers for our 'purity'." the way that he says the word it is obvious that in this at least, he does _not_ agree with his Warlord. Without condemnation, without remonstration, Shahar observes, "He is grieving and thus his outlook on life may be subject to question," while she looks upon the ruination of both Hall and people. Nodding again, the frown reforming on his handsome face, Numair looks to the woman and then to Yamineh, saying deeply "The burns recieved by the people would have incapacitated the clan had it not been for this young woman. She has retained her for a great length of time, and I, as well as Clan Behzad, am quite thankful for her. While things seem bad, the worst situation we currently have is our lack of food and medicines. I intended to speak to Sakhr about this later this evening. But I know not how much affect I'll have on him in his current...state of mourning." Again Shahar glances in Yamineh's direction, a small furrow appearing between those finely shaped brows, before she resumes regarding Numair. "I shall speak to him," is the Pasha's murmured promise. Not an offer, that: a statement of fact. A sharp surge of panic shoots down the shudra's back at the Nayaka's words, and she can feel heat flushing her face behind the veil she wears -- a far thicker one, it might be noted, than the bit of gossamer stuff worn by the Pasha and which she now carries with utmost care. She does not, however, speak. Or lift her gaze. She merely follows the august personages, a shadow in black and crimson, looking small and fragile against the hulking forms of the guards that also accompany the Lioness of Khalida. Numair frowns slightly at that "I appreciate your position Imphada, but if I may. I am the one closest to the Warlord in these things. He is a friend, a leader, and almost a brother to me. If you will allow me, I would prefer to speak to him before this comes to a more formal matter. Perhaps I can change his position upon these recent decrees. I know the man, and I know that in his current state he would undoubtedly serve to create tension if a representative of another clan was to speak with him. Thus, I ask you to give me this leave. If I fail at the task, then I will relent to give you the chance to change him." his words are firm, not in the way of telling her what to do, simply showing that his resolve on the action would be as he stated. "The matter resides within Behzad, and it is the prerogative of the Clan to discuss and solve problems that remain specific to the Clan." Shahar prowls, in a pace not unlike the pair of panthers' walk, as she murmurs these lines in a commanding voice. Here is a woman who has settled into the role of leadership, who knows few hold rank above, who puts much emphasis on the respect of those below...and on an equal level. "If you care to continue to address this manner, Nayaka, then may the Amir-al bless you in your efforts. However," and here is a heavy word, "should the matter spill into politics of the Varati, as they threaten to do, I shall have no choice but to involve myself, as Pasha. I trust that is clear?" Numair nods once, his golden eyes never leaving her yet again as he replies "And I assure you Imphada, if this matter threatens to do so, I will bring the matter before you myself. I respect and honor the man above almost all, but if the situation degrades my hand will be forced by the honor due my Clan and the Clansmen within it. Is there anything else that you require of my services Imphada?" While her glittering gaze remains on the shattered Hall and those unfortunate enough to dwell within it, Shahar at last shakes her head and turns her back on the building, making preparations to depart. "Beyond the promise that matters will be resolved soon, no. I do not desire to see part of the Varati people suffering because of the grieving of their leader. Neither, I may say, does the Amir-al have such a wish. I shall visit again soon, and should you have need of me, Nayaka, send word." Numair releases a small sigh and starts towards the gate, his lithe movements every bit the match to the Pasha's. As he walks he says in an oddly soft voice "Trust in the fact, Imphada Shahar, that things _will_ be resolved soon enough. One way or another. I thank you for taking the time to come here. My salutations to Clan Khalida and the Court of the Amir-al." he stands formally straight as he looks upon her and her men, awaiting their departure. Silent she may be, but Yamineh is attentive. The moment it seems that Shahar will require her veil, the maiden is there to provide it. All the while her stance remains demure, her eyes directing their gaze to the floor. Shahar's long fingers pluck the veil from Yamineh's grasp, and, leaning closer to the shudra, she speaks in a voice intended for her ears alone. "You have done us proudly by your assistance," is offered softly before the veil is reattached, along with the aloofness so much a part of her. "Be blessed, Imphadi Nayaka. We shall speak again soon." And back to her palanquin she goes, she and her eight guards, her gait elegant and sultry as the voice that, a moment ago, filled the space between Numair, Yamineh, and herself. Numair watches them go with almost sad eyes that quickly turn to the normal emotionless sheen. For a moment he stares off into space, but finally turns the golden gaze upon Yamineh and bows to her "Thank you for our earlier talk Imphada. If you have need of me, I will be within my chambers until later." he then turns and strides fluidly up the stairs into the hall, panthers following dutifully as always. The halfbreed disguised in Behzad's colors does not have time to murmur anything in reply to the Pasha, and truth be told, she is stricken motionless with shock and wonder regardless. Her eyes turn full and liquid and wide before she composes herself, letting an even deeper gesture of obeisance to the departing grand lady speak her reaction for her. Shahar passes through the stone arch and returns to the street. Shahar has left. [End log.]