"Mercy Goes Not Unseen"

Log Date:
	5/19/00

Log Cast:
	Roxana, Faanshi

Log Intro:
	Ushas, Holy Mother of the Hawk of Heaven, Lady of the Dawn, is 
arguably the most constant comfort for any number of women of the Varati
people -- and one young shudra healer of halfbreed blood is no exception.
Though her beloved heart-mother, the Ushasti priestess Ulima, has long
since passed on into her next life, Faanshi has shyly clasped her aged
kinswoman's faith to her, both in respectful memory of the one loving
relative she's ever known and out of a very real, very profound need to know
that Someone up there might be listening to even _her_ humble prayers.
	For many months now, Faanshi has dreamed of joining the women of
Ushas in their worship -- but has not dared to ask their leave. Ushas' own
mighty Son, Khalid Atar, gave her leave to seek a position among them
_only_ if the young shudra can convince Kiera to stay more often in Haven;
now, though Kiera has in fact been seen more frequently in and around 
Atesh-Gah, it has not been by Faanshi's own doing. Now, Kiera is not even
her mistress any more. And so the healer girl has timidly avoided the
Ushasti, feeling that since she has not fulfilled the command of the Amir-al,
she has no right to seek their company. 
	Still, this hasn't ever stopped her from trying to creep on her
own to the shrine of the Dawn Mother, especially recently. Faanshi's tender
heart is full of desperate worry for Lyre Talespinner, absent from Haven,
and the shrine of Ushas is the only place she dares dwell on the bard and
his self-appointed dangerous quest for more than a few moments at a time.
	However, the shrine of Ushas hardly goes unattended by Her worshippers
_or_ her priestesses -- and it's easy for a distracted shudra to lose track
of the time and come across the women at their worship. Little does she know,
too, that while she's been avoiding the Ushasti lately, this doesn't mean
_they_ haven't been keeping a discreet eye on _her_...

*===========================< In Character Time >===========================*
             Time of day:  Night (Dawnside)
          Date on Aether:  Friday, July 2, 3906.
           Year on Earth:  1506 A.D. 
       Phase of the Moon:  Waning Crescent
                  Season:  Summer
                 Weather:  Clouds
             Temperature:  Comfortable
*==========================================================================*

Secluded Grotto - Atesh-Gah Garden - Haven
     Cupped within the delicate palms of serenity, this miniature grotto 
  offers a shelter away from the pressing demands of Atesh-Gah. Surrounded 
  within the velvety, quiet confines of billowing cypress and the weeping 
  leaves of willows, reality is left far behind. A flirty, intoxicating 
  fragrance drifts lazily throughout, brought forth from the sprinking of 
  powdered jasmine, creamy azalea, and a variety of other flourishing blossoms 
  which have taken root here.
     Half-hidden within a dense gathering of thriving, fanning ferns is 
  revealed a statue of unblemished white marble. Etched with a talented hand 
  from long past, care has been taken reveal the likeness of Ushas, Goddess of 
  Mercy, mother of Khalid Atar. Smooth, globular stones of slate hue have been 
  hollowed and placed within an arc formation about the sculpture for ritual 
  offerings. Interwoven, and within the clutches of iron shapings, are brazier 
  stands of a few feet in height, a rippling of flames licking the bellies of 
  each.
     The lush underfooting of grass carpeting offers, along with a scattering 
  of modest boulders, a few pleasant spots for rest and relaxation. Creeping 
  unobtrusively through this surreal enclosure are the persistant trailings of 
  ivy, vines tangling with the every surface.
Contents:
Roxana
Obvious exits:
Fountain <F>

It will soon be dawn, and the Ushasti are busying themselves about the grotto 
  in preparation for the most important ceremony of the day. Silk and 
  satin-clad figures drift from place to place, under the watchful supervision 
  of a Maithuna, who ensures that all goes according to plan. Roxana is yet 
  another one of the maidens, placing rose-petals on the altar and setting 
  incense sticks a-burning.

The grove that surrounds this hidden, sacred shrine is sacrosanct -- none but 
  women may venture herein. Such is the generally unspoken law of Atesh-Gah. 
  Faanshi is a woman, but then again, she is also a shudra and a halfbreed, 
  and the young healer who has spent the last two years in the service of Clan 
  Khalida is never entirely comfortable creeping into this place even if it 
  _is_ her dearest refuge in all of the Varati citadel. She can never tell 
  whether the stoic-faced guards who have been appointed to watch over the 
  sanctity of the grove -- from a suitable distance from the shrine, of course 
  -- are any less displeased than the guards all over the rest of the embassy 
  to see the halfbreed pass them. And she can never tell when the grove might 
  be occupied...
Like today. Her eyes anxious and strained from uneasy sleep, keenly feeling 
  the lack of the dog who usually trots at her side (she doesn't have the 
  heart to roust Kosha out of the kennels and disturb her pup's sleep even if 
  it's been many months since he was truly a pup), the girl in red and blue 
  and gold appears on the outer edge of this hallowed clearing and freezes in 
  a surge of near-panic as she glimpses the gathering at hand.

Roxana
A graceful young woman of Kshatri breeding, Roxana is clad as many other unwed 
  maidens of her station in satins and silks of red and gold. Her clothes are 
  modest and unrevealing, but show the general lines of the body beneath. 
  Black veils conceal her, one tethered at her forehead by a row of tiny gold 
  coins and stretching back over her hair, another shrouding the lower portion 
  of her face. These veils only serve to accentuate her most distinguishing 
  characteristic - one of her eyes is the liquid brown most Varati have, but 
  the other is a very pale lilac, a shade only seen rarely amongst the Varati 
  people and never in a mixbreed. When eyes like these regard you, it is 
  difficult not to feel that they stare into the soul, whether they do or not. 
  Such an eerie, unsettling effect may account for the reason the maiden is 
  still unwed at her age - most men could be put off by even the kindliest 
  regard.

Roxana notes the arrival of a shy girl, and sets her last incense stick alight 
  before walking towards Faanshi. As she reaches the Healer, Roxana curtseys. 
  "Be welcome in the temple, O follower of Mercy."

For a fraction of an instant, the shudra maid blinks, caught between keeping 
  her attention demurely lowered out force of habit -- she averts her eyes 
  from _everyone_, usually, not just men, and the priestesses of Ushas are no 
  exception -- and peering at the one who approaches her. Then, hastily, 
  Faanshi clasps her hands at her breast and bows over them, breathing out in 
  a tiny, stricken voice, "Namaste', Imphada... I-I do not mean to intrude... 
  I will come back when the women are done..."

Roxana sounds puzzled, and her brows have drawn together slightly, though not 
  in anger. "Are you not a follower of Ushas, then, Imphada? All Her 
  worshippers are welcome here, and especially now."

Over the last couple of years, Faanshi has grown accustomed to failure to 
  convince those who dwell outside Atesh-Gah that it is not proper to address 
  a shudra with a polite title. No matter how many times she has insisted to 
  her Mongrel acquaintances and sometimes to those of other races as well that 
  she is only 'Faanshi', not 'Imphada' or 'Miss' or whatever else they might 
  choose to call her, she has not broken any of them of the habit. Within the 
  embassy walls, however, she dares not let herself slip when observing the 
  proprieties of caste and station. Her head remaining humbly bowed, the 
  shudra breathes, "I am but a shudra, Imphada... I... do pray to the Holy 
  Mother, but..."

Roxana's veil shifts, indicating a smile beneath. "Here, Sister under the Sun, 
  we are all equal to a certain degree. Please, take your place among us." 
  Gone are the Imphadis, but there is none of the usual tone of command the 
  Kshatri use when addressing Shudra, if they ever address Shudra. 
  Particoloured eyes have a kindly look as Roxana waves to a few women off to 
  one side, of all castes by their clothing, who are obviously waiting for the 
  ceremony to begin.

Her place. She's not accustomed to being assured she has such a thing -- or at 
  least, a place where she is not only expected to be, but actively 
  _welcomed_. Faanshi makes a tiny noise that might be protest or might be 
  dazed, delighted acknowledgement; it's hard to tell. She peeks timorously 
  where the other maiden indicates, and then bobs her head. "Thank you," is 
  all she whispers in reply. And though she does venture to those others, she 
  does it with utmost caution, as if not at all certain if she should be among 
  these women, or what if anything to say to the maidens who glance her way 
  with what seems bizarrely like acceptance in their dark eyes.

The small knot of worshippers accepts the Shudra without a second thought. 
  There are several other Shudra, a couple of Nayaki, even a Kshatri - but 
  here, there is somewhat more discrimination than the priestess showed. The 
  Kshatri stands alone, the Nayaki as a seperate group, and the Shudra as 
  their own small cluster. The Maithuna turns to the lightest area of the sky 
  as the younger Ushasti priestesses assume their places, and the ceremony 
  begins.

Silently, humbly, Faanshi sinks to her knees on the outermost edge of the 
  gathering of reverent shudra and naraki maidens -- realizing with some shock 
  that one of the naraki actually looks familiar. A Mongrel -- one she's 
  healed, and who flashes her what _has_ to be a bright-eyed smile for all 
  that there's a silken veil in the way of her freckled face. She could almost 
  feel at ease here, but Faanshi is not quite prepared to let that happen. Not 
  yet. Instead, she peeks up unsurely to the eldest priestess, wondering what 
  will happen; will she sing the same prayers that her heart-mother once 
  lifted up to the dawn?

Indeed she will, and she does, with the Chela and the Kanya providing a 
  harmonious counterpoint as the sun peeks above the gold-tinted horizon, 
  changing the sky to a blazing yellow, orange and pink, touching the few 
  ragged clouds with the fire of Ushas, bringer of the dawn. The music fills 
  the sacred place as the smells of incense and flowers fill the air, all in 
  homage to the Mother of Mercy.

As those voices join together in clarion song, the halfbreed girl cannot help 
  but catch her breath beneath her own veil. She has heard this song from afar 
  before -- observing the singing from the shadow of the trees, too afraid to 
  join in. And she's heard it from older times as well, delivered in the reedy 
  alto of the old woman who raised her from her birth. A memory of black-eyed, 
  sage Ulima wells up within the healer now, making her squeeze her eyes shut 
  in an attempt to ward off moisture threatening the edges of her vision.
And then, abruptly, something makes sense. She _knows_ this song, and she 
  knows the part that the Chela sing. She has sung it herself, alone in green 
  growing places around Haven, to pay her own homage to the Mother of the Hawk 
  of Heaven. Her heart-mother taught it to her.
Will they mind, if she joins in? The barest breath of sound is the shudra's 
  voice, a sweet soprano, and it creeps into the massed harmony like a fawn 
  sneaking up to the fringe of a gathered herd of deer.

The small voice fits perfectly into the whole, as everyone sings the hymn 
  taught them by their mothers as they lay sleepy in the cradle. The hymn 
  rises, and then falls away into silence as the service proper is begun. 
  There is the ritual of welcome, a sermon (as ever), and yet more singing as 
  the solar disc breaks free of its ties to the earth. Then, with one final 
  note, the ceremony ends.

It is beauty, it is mercy, and at least as long as she is surrounded by the 
  women of Ushas, Faanshi lets herself relax into a sense of peace she has 
  never been able to feel anywhere else. She remains upon her knees in the 
  grass as she listens, her posture unconsciously retaining the attentiveness 
  of the servant -- but her eyes uplifted for once, liquid, worshipful, 
  touched with a kind of hope. As the final songs are sung her voice is a bit 
  more confident -- though soft still, for her singing is as uncertain to the 
  ear as her physical presence is to the eye. Only when the priestesses begin 
  to withdraw from the adhara that has been cast about this quiet grove, when 
  the maithuna and then the kanya and then the chela and other worshippers 
  begin to take their leave, does Faanshi bestir herself and peek uncertainly 
  about her.
        
Roxana heads for the hesitant Shudra, looking curious. "I seem to recall you 
  from somewhere. Tell me, were you the Healer to the Maharani before she left 
  for Masada?"

Thinking perhaps that she will linger behind before the shrine -- for she 
  harbors anxious prayers within her heart for a certain Mongrel, and Faanshi 
  is not brave enough to voice them before any gathering of women, welcoming 
  though they be -- Faanshi is about to gingerly rise to her feet. But she 
  starts as the one who had greeted her draws near, not only at the maiden's 
  approach, but also at her question. "I... serve the Maharani," she confirms 
  hesitantly, "and I am a healer..." She cannot in good conscience claim to be 
  _the_ healer of the Maharani; there are Atarvani that hold that august duty, 
  after all.

Roxana nods, making a sound of acknowledgement. "I thought so; I remembered 
  you. I am a Lady-In-Waiting to the Maharani. Now, tell me, Healer - is it 
  not true that you go among the people of Haven, Healing where you can?"

It had been enough to surprise Faanshi that she was welcomed into the circle 
  of praise to the Lady of the Dawn; now, however, she is surprised anew. With 
  tentative, wary gaze, she peeks over the top of her veil and realizes in 
  bemusement that the curious attention upon her bears one eye of brown... and 
  the other of violet. She trusts that the kshatri maidens who serve Thalia 
  Khalida are aware by now of the humble roommate who has been moved into the 
  bedroom of the queen's newest scribe... but she could not have expected this 
  kind of query. "I do that, yes, imphada," she murmurs. This is the second 
  time in as many days that she has been questioned about her healing work in 
  the city; why again, here, now?

Roxana nods, making a sound of satisfaction. "I am, as most Ushasti are, 
  somewhat skilled in the herbal arts. Now that the Maharani has gone to 
  Masada, I am at something of a loose end. Would you care for company?"

All right, she was wrong -- this is the greatest of the surprises, this third 
  one. A _kshatri_ asks _her_ for company? Faanshi involuntarily straightens 
  to her full even if comparatively dainty height, eyes going a trifle round. 
  "You... honor me," she blurts then, making another little dip of a bow. 
  "But, impada, you... you wish to come into the city with me? To heal... in 
  Bordertown...?" The notion clearly staggers her.

Roxana smiles. "Yes, I do honour you. A woman who does as a Healer and 
  follower of Ushas should is worthy of honour, no matter her caste. And yes, 
  I do wish to come to Bordertown. You would seem to be safe enough, and who 
  better to go to Bordertown with than one of the best Healers in the city?"

Though her veil is still in the way and thus conceals such a flush from the 
  eye, hot red flushes across Faanshi's cheek at such praise. Her gaze dips 
  swiftly down again towards the slender sungolden hands that now wring 
  nervously at her breast. "My dog guards me," she murmurs in awkward 
  cadences, "and I... I am blessed with the magic, but there are many healers 
  f-far worthier than I, imphada...!"

Softly, the Kshatri answers. "But few who do such worthy work. I wish to be 
  involved, if I can be useful to you." Not quite a command, that - more a 
  conditional order. If she can be useful, Roxana *will* be involved. But 
  there is an easy way out for you, and you get the impression she will not 
  hold it against you.

Unusual indeed is this question put to the shudra, and her bafflement can be 
  glimpsed in the leaf-green eyes above the veil's gold-trimmed edge. Slowly, 
  carefully, she risks a peek at this strange noble maid with her bicolored 
  regard, and just as carefully and respectfully she asks, "Are... you a 
  healer as well, imphada?"

Roxana shakes her head. "I have not been gifted with magic. I work with herbs, 
  instead, as do most other Ushasti."

The shudra maiden nods once, knowing this, no surprise in her summer-green 
  gaze -- at least, none visible in the fleeting glimpse that might be caught 
  of it before she securely focuses her own stare upon her hands. "I cannot... 
  reach everyone among the Mongrels, imphada," she murmurs shyly. "There is 
  always need... whether I am able to attend myself, or no. If you wish to 
  come with me, of course I must say yes."

Roxana nods. "Thank you, Healer. My name is Roxana bint Fajult, of Clan 
  al-Gul. Would you recommend I bring along a stout warrior or two, for our 
  protection?"

Holy Mother, but it seems easy to surprise this girl. The astonishment of the 
  mere concept of having any kind of official escort into Bordertown shoots 
  visibly through Faanshi, and it takes her a moment or three before she is 
  able to stammer, "You honor me again with your acquaintance, imphada... I am 
  Faanshi..." No family name or Clan name is given, not even that of Khalida, 
  for all that the girl wears the colors of the Amir-al's own Clan. "I have 
  been... usually safe enough, when I bring Kosha, but there are parts of 
  Bordertown where I do not go, not in the deep of night..." And again she 
  pauses, uneasily. How much should she tell this strange-eyed kshatri maid 
  who has suddenly asked to join in on her efforts? Has Ushas sent her? Is she 
  no longer meant to keep her vigils through Bordertown alone? "But if you... 
  wish to come with me... perhaps a warrior to defend you would be wise." This 
  last comes out of her in a voice turned very small.

Roxana smiles, beneath the veil. "That is rather a relief, Faanshi. I must not 
  be unchaperoned, after all, especially in Bordertown. My escort will be 
  using his own rest-time to help us - two of my family's warriors have 
  already approached me about aiding you."

"They... have?" The voice from behind the shudra's blue and gold veil seems to 
  have gone weak and hoarse: astonishment after astonishment, on this summer 
  morning that started with the unlooked-for fortune of lingering among the 
  Ushasti women as they sang their praises to the dawn. Then Faanshi catches 
  herself, nodding slowly and then with a bit more assurance... though she 
  still dares not look this sudden companion-to-be of hers directly in the 
  face. Striving to keep her composure, she adds, "When... do you wish to 
  accompany me?"

Roxana shrugs gracefully. "Whenever I may. My duties as Ushasti dictate 
  certain parts of my life, but for now I do little else."

This is almost too much to credit, and Faanshi has to lift a hand to scrub it 
  across her eyes, shaking her head as though to clear it: she has joined in 
  the morning ceremony, and now there is not only a kshatri who wishes to join 
  _her_ on a mission she had thought no one in Atesh-Gah had noticed or deemed 
  the slightest bit important, but a kshatri who will even be bringing a 
  warrior with her to keep her safe. Part of Faanshi cannot help but wonder if 
  the presence of an armed Varati warrior might almost do more harm than good 
  -- for if there is one thing she has learned in her walks through the city 
  over the last several months, it is that a single girl in Varati clothing is 
  offensive enough to many without having a far more obviously Varati _man_ 
  accompanying her. Will the Mongrels she knows and trust look at her quite 
  the same way if she is thus accompanied? But then, what can she do to say 
  no? "Then... I... have not yet gone out this day... if you wish, I will 
  fetch my dog and wait for you. If you have herbs, imphada... they would be 
  welcome, and clean cloths for bandages. I can heal" -- a great deal, though 
  Faanshi is too shy to elaborate on this -- "some things... but sometimes... 
  to have these other things... helps."

Roxana shakes her head regretfully. "Today is a feast-day for we of the 
  Sisterhood, Faanshi. We spend this day in worship. If you will come with me, 
  I can get you what I have already prepared, but I cannot join you on this 
  day. One of the warriors most interested in you has a rest-day, though. I 
  will point him out, if you wish it."

Wait a minute -- a warrior accompanying her _anyway_, without this priestess? 
  Reflexively, the shudra shakes her head, blushing furiously all over again. 
  "The Imphadi warrior needs not b-bestir himself to defend me," she croaks. 
  "I-I fare well enough..." Besides, Ushas, what could she say to such a man?

Roxana smiles again, odd eyes glowing with amusement. "He will if you ask it, 
  though I will not ask you to do so." Ask in Roxana's case meaning order, of 
  course. "You realise you must keep quiet about their involvement, if they go 
  with you alone? They are clan guards, not Agni-Haidar, but I do not think 
  our Warlord would react too favourably."

Truth be told, Faanshi cannot quite believe that any self-respecting warrior 
  himself, much less his Warlord, would react at all favorably to the notion 
  of escorting a halfbreed shudra around a place like Bordertown -- and 
  nevermind the Agni-Haidar, in nervous terror of whom the shudra tiptoes 
  around the Queen's suite now that she has been moved into the quarters of 
  Zarima the scribe. But Faanshi keeps this to herself; she's reconciled 
  herself to the fact that she courts danger each time she and her loyal hound 
  set foot in Haven alone. A much older tenet of her universe, however, is 
  that if a kshatri speaks, she listens and agrees. Gravely, still looking 
  down, she bobs her head. "I understand, imphada," she murmurs.

Roxana nods. "I thought you would. Would you care for the potions now, or will 
  they wait?"

There is a momentary pause again as the shudra girl seems to consider this, 
  drawing in a soft nervous breath. Shy she obviously is. Humbly respectful as 
  any shudra should be, too. But despite both these things, there appears to 
  be a mind behind her sari and veil, for there is something that might almost 
  be knowledge lurking in her gentle voice as she answers slowly, "I... think 
  that... it might depend upon what you have that you wish to dispense, 
  imphada... I give out much chamomile and mint, yellowroot and sage... for 
  teas, to keep the lungs clear... other things, too, to keep a wound from 
  going bad when no one is there to heal it..." And she knows the names of 
  some herbs as well, apparently; where _has_ she learned them? How much does 
  she do with her hands, and how much with the art of mixing the bounty of the 
  Mother? "If you have herbs I do not know... you should keep them..."

Roxana nods. "I have feverfew, and a few others as well. But perhaps it would 
  be best if we were to wait until I were there - you have knowledge of herbs, 
  as all Healers should, but my brews need labels if another is to use them."

"Yes, imphada." Still stunned, that feels to Faanshi to be the best answer she 
  can make at the moment, but at least now she's managed to calm herself down 
  from the shock somewhat. "I... I will await your word, then, as to when you 
  and your escort wish to accompany me."

Roxana turns away. The conversation must be over, then. The Ushasti makes as 
  if to follow her Sisters out of the grotto, but turns as she leaves and 
  nods, a gesture of respect and thanks.

[To be continued...?]