"The Maharani's Wisdom" Log Date: 6/13/01 Log Cast: Faanshi, Geridan, Thalia, assorted court NPCs (emitted by Asusena) Log Intro: For many weeks, suffering from memory loss induced by the poison unleashed at the Dipavali festival, Faanshi has taken refuge amongst the Ettowealona Sylvans to the west of Haven. With her has been Mehul, the casteless Varati who's become the second man she's ever loved, and of course her ever-loyal dog, Kosha. But Mehul has a side to him that Faanshi has never seen. He is the Hunter who's been stalking and killing Sylvan graisha, and Soft-Feather of the Ettowealona and Geridan of the Varati Clan Rashid have uncovered his identity at last. They've tracked him to Faanshi's side in the woods. They've confronted him with his crimes, and to Faanshi's horror, he has confessed to their truth. And so Mehul has been beheaded before her very eyes, a sharp blast of trauma that has cracked the wall on her memory--but which has dealt the shudra healer a much, much deeper blow. One whose effects begin to manifest, even as the Imphadi Geridan sees her safely back to Haven so that she may at last present herself to her Queen. And much to Faanshi's confusion, her Queen realizes immediately that all is not well with her servant.... *===========================< In Character Time >==========================* Time of day: Afternoon Date on Aether: Saturday, June 13, 3908. Year on Earth: 1508 A.D. Phase of the Moon: Waning Crescent Season: Summer Weather: Clear Skies Temperature: Hot *==========================================================================* Throne Room - Atesh-Gah - Haven This massive rectangular area seem to rise forever; white polished marble catching the light that enters through the spacious windows on either side of the room and reflecting it throughout to dispel all shadow or gloom. The walls themselves are a work of art; the top half being the aforementioned stone, broken at mid-point by a border lovingly carved into an intricate design. Housed within the near foot-wide space is a pattern of interwoven bands of gold. The bottom half of the wall is sky-blue marble shot through with graceful swirls of cloudy white, once again giving way to pale marble for the few inches nearest the floor. Sturdy seats of golden-varnished wood, covered in cushions and upholstery of shimmering royal blue, are placed in orderly fashion at the sides of the room. Dwarfing all is the raised dais of solid marble, upon which looms two thrones: one for the God-King and the other for his Queen. A testimony to the art and craft of the Varati people, the thrones practically shimmer in the resplendent light of the chamber; the God-King's is upholstered in royal blue while the Queen's is a vibrant red, both solidly constructed of the same marble that forms the room. A delicate filigree of gold offsets the satiny-hued cloth. There are two doorways in the room; the first, at the furthest end of the hall from the throne, leads to the foyer. The second is to the left of the dais. Contents: Geridan Thalia Obvious Exits: Entrance Foyer Royal Wing Asusena enters from the foyer, the doors closing silently behind. Asusena has arrived. It is hardly the first time that the shudra Faanshi has set foot in the Throne Room at her mistress's behest, or that of the Most High Himself -- but this time, it might, just might, be enough to raise eyebrows. She has not been seen in the halls of Atesh-Gah for many weeks now, and the healer maiden is returning clad in the colors of Clan Rashid, accompanied by a tall, proud warrior of that selfsame Clan who seems to have elected himself her escort. There is nothing ostensibly different about her demeanor, either -- Faanshi's gaze is demurely lowered, her voice when addressed by those she passes still deferential, still quiet. But something has changed. Perhaps it is the strange unconscious ease with which she is moving; perhaps it is the blankness behind her eyes, glimpsable on those occasions when they come into someone's line of sight. Perhaps it is the absolute lack of a stammer in her gentle voice, or the odd feel of... detachment, about the girl. What has brought it about, and where she has been all this time, must needs be a mystery... at least until the Maharani calls it out of her. With Geridan at her side, the shudra enters the great chamber. She makes her obeisances in the general direction of the thrones, then turns as if intending to step to where propriety dictates shudra must wait if they are to be called upon in court business. With a hand upon the hilt of his sword does Geridan enter the great throne room of the Atesh-Gah, his head held high and his gaze locked forward. There may be no smile upon the man's lips to day, but there is an air about him, one of pride and strength... he seems to be, for the moment, quite pleased with himself, though certainly he keeps it well covered and part of it surely is the wonder and greatness he feels towards his race, they which built this place, the children of fire. Yes. He has remained silent at the shudra's side, an escort, a guard perhaps, patient with her steps while they moved, his own, while smaller to keep at her side, still easy in motion. He hasn't spoken to her in quite some time actually, not since asking her if she was ready to leave the Kentari Suites... But now he comes to a halt a few paces in front of the doorway, keeping Faanshi beside him, waiting to be summoned forward. The wait Faanshi and Geridan must endure is short, for word has been sent ahead. Thus, after the latest courtier finishes his business with the queen, the seneschal thumps his staff of office on the floor and announces, "The Imphadi Geridan Kentari Rashid and Faanshi to see the Queen-Maharani." Thalia raises her blue eyes, calm like a clear summer sky. A faint smile touches her lips and she waits patiently for Geridan and Faanshi to come to her. Faanshi's promptness cannot be faulted, to be sure. She comes when called, without a trace of hesitation; equally readily, she drops to the floor the proscribed number of paces from her mistress's throne and presses her brow to her hands in deference. Closer up, it may be noted that the maiden's veil is a lighter one than usual, one which allows glimpses of the features beneath it, perhaps just enough to hint that she is utterly without expression; moreover, though the red sari she wears has been wound up to cover her head, her hair is loose beneath it, escaping here and there in errant dark curls. One thing is familiar, though. She does not yet speak, for such is the place of the Maharani, or at the very least of the kshatri man who has accompanied her here. Gliding forward, Geridan flows effortlessly to a knee before the Maharani, his head bowing while he falls, one hand resting atop the hilt of his weapon, the other's knuckles pressing to the floor, his eyes closed softly... There, aside the detatched shudra maiden, the Warrior of Rashid, solid in presence, remains in silence, waiting for permission to rise and speak. Before the eyes of the court, once again the wait that Faanshi and Geridan must endure is mercifully short. "Rise," Thalia says to both man and woman. Yet, her next words are for the shudra rather than the kshatri man that outranks her. "Faanshi, where have you been? I have been concerned." Up to her feet, then, to a shudra's stance before the one she serves, sungolden hands clasped behind her back and eyes of summer's green fastened upon nothing in particular. That is identifiably Faanshi -- but when the healer speaks, that niggling sense of oddness might be heard directly in her voice. "I have been greatly ill, O Maharani," she replies, and for all she speaks with a maiden's shyness even now, somewhere, somehow, she has learned to speak above a timid whisper. "I am told that at the Dipavali Festival, a poison caused illness among the Children of Fire. My memory left me, and I have been succored by the Ettowealona tribe of Sylvans which dwells to the west. I have come now to submit myself to your judgement for my lapse in your service." The stance which Geridan takes is not far different from that when he was neeling. The pride, confidence, and presence still remains, the strength and ease of movement, poised on the breaking point of tension... It is just that now he stands before the Queen rather than kneels, his gaze staring once more straight forward. He was given permission to rise, but not to speak, and so... he remains silent, waiting either until he is asked a question or told to add anything to the conversation. Thalia shows her favor upon the shudra, at least in the eyes of the kshatri members of the court, for she does not further reprimand Faanshi. Instead, she gives a wave of her hand, indicating that all is forgiven. "The poison affected many, causing much mischief and havok. You are not at fault for your lapse. However, I had been brought word that Varati were trespassing in Apisachi lands. Thinking that it might be you wandering in the forest under the influence of the poison, I sent Salmalin al'Sar to the Apisachi to retrieve you. As it would appear that I have been in error, I must ask that you bring back the Sylvan Ambassador before he gets himself killed." Thalia manages to look faintly guilty. "But first, please tell me what transpired between you and the Ettowealona. You appear, in some ways, improved." For a moment, for just a moment, the shudra's mask of unnatural calm wavers slightly at the mention of Salmalin al'Sar's whereabouts. Her delicate dark brows knit together over her eyes, before she inclines her head a single time and replies, "I shall... go to the Apisachi as soon as possible, then, Imphada." A fractional pause, and then she continues as if that momentary ripple of her tranquility had never occurred, "I was found by a man called Soft-Feather who is a great master of shapechanging magic; he took me to the place where the tribe lives, though I did not recognize it at the time. The Sachem Many Shadows permitted me to take shelter there, and the healer HeartsEase took some of the sickness from my body. Though they are candala, they showed me much of the sixth of the holy surahs. Then Mehul followed me to the lands of the Ettowealona, bringing with him my dog, and it was he who took over my care until the honored Imphadi Rashid came to return me to Atesh-Gah." On the notion of whether she has improved, Faanshi makes no comment; one might perhaps even wonder if she heard the observation. Still in forever obedient silence, Geridan stands, unmoving, a statue of the stone that is so commonly associated with his race. He does not appear in the slightest to be displeased at having Faanshi addressed before him, he is just here to serve as her escort to the Maharani, to ensure her safe passage, he certainly expects nothing special. And so he stands strong, waiting. One warrior in the court, watching the proceedings, looks Faanshi over, carefully, somewhat surprised at Thalia's favor toward the shudra. He says nothing, his dark eyes silent and watchful. Others mimic the silent watching, some seeming interested, others bored, even, their eyes wandering from Geridan and Faanshi, to Thalia, and then to other members of the court. There are the faintest whispers, a cough here, a sneeze there. Underneath the more pronounced words the most subtle, sonorous hum of life, living, heartbeats, breaths, a slight change in position, whether to smooth a sari, tuck a wayward curl in place, note the sparkle in a worn gem, or perhaps simply to differentiate oneself from a wonderfully lifelike statue, watching, waiting. Thalia asks, "What of this Mehul?" Apparently, Thalia does not know the person. "Why has Imphadi Rashid brought you back instead of this man...or woman?" She glances over at Geridan, inclining her head. "Feel free to add to her story, Imphadi." Faanshi might well be a statue herself, for all the movement she exhibits as she stands before the Queen. One beat. Two. Then, utterly without inflection, the shudra maiden explains simply, "Mehul is dead, Imphada Maharani." The words that must be spoken next, Geridan knows not to be easy... and so... a step forward he takes, single and small, but enough to bring him to light ahead of her and spare her the pain of the rumbling syllables that part from his lips and burn in his eyes. "It was discovered also that Mehul was the Graisha Hunter that has been plaguing the Sylvan territories for some time now. I, along with Soft-Feather, and a hanful of Sylvan archers, confronted him. He was killed in the conflict." It is stated quickly, almost fiercly, but with the rythmic detatchment of a report to a superior officer. A hushed murmur ripples throughout the court. Dead? Mehul? Wasn't he casteless? No no, he was kshatri, he was--A gasp echoes throughout the room, and a few women bring their hands to their mouths, some men look both surprised and confused, and the murmurs increase, tenfold, frowns furrowing brows, lips moving quickly. Thalia's eyes do not light with knowledge as Geridan mentions the graisha hunter. Most likely, Thalia had no knowledge the Sylvans were experiencing any sort of difficulty. "And, of the Ettowealona, do they hold Mehul's actions against the Varati people?" The question is directed to both Geridan and Faanshi. "Not that I have been able to determine, Maharani," is the shudra's reply, still delivered in that soft and absent tone. "They gave me no such message to carry back. And when I asked Mehul if it were true, he said it was. I told him that he had broken the holy surahs, and saw that he realized it. Soft-Feather then took his head and I began to remember things and realized that I should return to you. The Imphadi Rashid permitted me to accompany him to his dwelling so that I might make myself presentable in your honored presence." And that, apparently, is that. The halfbreed's unfalteringly gentle, respectful voice might perhaps jar strangely against the starkness of the words she utters... but she seems to show no sign of awareness of the dichotomy. In that, she might almost resemble the warrior beside her, for all that she is woman and not man, shudra and not kshatri, healer instead of fighter. Apparently, Geridan is satisfied with what is spoken by the shudra maiden, for he gives the Maharani a nod of a proval toward her words and takes a step back to her side, his head bowing as he does so. "I do not think they will, Maharani. It was understood that he was not representative of our race as a whole, that he was a rouge. However, there will always be those who will frown upon it just the same and connect his actions to all of the Varati people. It's simply unavoidable. But Wisdom will prevail in the end." Thalia's brows press together in a frown of concern. Though this does not seem to be the time and the place for such a question, Thalia still asks, "Are you well, Faanshi? You seem strangely detached." At the same time, she looks over at Geridan to see if he can clarify Faanshi's dichotomous actions. That makes the healer seem to stop, ever so slightly, her brows winging down a little over her eyes. Somewhere within the blanket of removal that has enveloped her inner heart, it occurs to her that she _does_ feel quite odd... because she is feeling scarcely anything at all. There is no nervousness within her, standing here in the vast throne room before the eyes of an assemblage which under normal circumstances would send dread shooting through her. There is not even much in the way of surprise at the question of the Queen, though a tiny ember of bemusement kindles in Faanshi's gaze, that such a question should be asked of her. She frowns as well, consideringly, before she answers at last, "There are holes that remain in my memory, Imphada, for which I ask your forgiveness in advance. But my body is hale and I have strength enough to go the Apisachi as soon as you wish it of me." The blanket closes in again within her, allowing nothing but a small flicker of contentment. She has uttered truth; truth is good. It is proper to tell the truth to one's mistress, after all. "I think perhaps it is the witnessing of such an event... it surely must have been traumatic for her. Perhaps a little rest will aid in recovery." It is clear form his voice though, that there is far more to the matter than that... and while the truth is spoken there, a connecting piece is missing... one that holds Faanshi to Mehul... Geridan falls silent once more. Thalia would appear at a loss. She is not Faanshi's mother, a close relation, nor is she a tyranical mistress that forces explanations out of those who do not wish to give them. "Perhaps," she says, allowing Faanshi's tentative explanation stand for the time being. "Perhaps you may wish to speak with one of the Atarvani. Some incidents are more than a single soul can bear. Sharing can make the burden lighter. Or, if you are uncomfortable speaking about it aloud, you may write it to me in a letter. You wrote once of a young man that you loved deeply. I was very touched. Loss is very hard to bear alone. This life has given you many trial, Faanshi. By dealing with each hurdle, you will surely redeem whatever sins you have created in a plast life, but living the life and accepting its hardships does not mean that you must suffer alone. You have friends and you have others who would help you." Thalia does not specifically name herself, outside the offer of the letter. At least, it would appear that she cannot at this time and in this place. For a fleeting instant, Faanshi slides a sideways peek to Geridan, another hint of bemusement crinkling her brow; it makes her look, almost, as if she cannot quite comprehend exactly what the man must be talking about. She is here, is she not? She is alive, conscious, physically mobile, and even if she can sense patches missing in her recollection, she can also sense her magic within her, once more at her command. What more does she need, to serve her mistress? That same faintly baffled glance flickers, for a second instant, up to the Maharani. Two seconds. Three. Then the shudra's eyes go remote once again, empty, vacant. Her gaze fastens itself upon one of the many ornate little ornamentations of the Queen's throne, stoic, as unreadable as the stare of the Agni-Haidar themselves. "The Imphada Maharani honors her humblest servant with her concern," is all she says then, "but I am in adequate condition to serve her." Thalia says softly, but firmly, "Geridan Rashid, you may leave." After, the kshatri warrior departs, Thalia sighs, gazing down at the shudra. "There is a not a kindly way that I can say this, Faanshi. Sometimes, the best medicine for aches of the heart is to simply stop dwelling on the past, to stop dwelling on what cannot be fixed, and to cease worrying about how amends can be made. You must, instead, deal with those concerns that you can personally solve. Yet, you must put the past behind you. You cannot block it from thought. You cannot pretend that it does not exist. The only way to move forward is to recognize the past, then leave it there. I have become anathema to the Empyre. If I dwelt on the actions which lead to my becoming hated by an entire race, I would be miserable for the rest of my life. Instead, I choose to look forward and think of the good my future actions can create." The halfbreed girl shows no particular reaction to the dismissal of her escort, save a momentary glance in his direction; that might, just might, be gratitude in her eyes, but it is gone so quickly that it's difficult to tell. And at any rate, when the Maharani speaks, her attention must needs be occupied by that. She is silent, attentive, the very picture of a servant maintaining her place... and yet... there is that detachment about her even now. Somewhere beneath her mental veil it seems to Faanshi that it is passing strange that the Maharani should be bothering to tell her these things in her court, that surely it must be causing those around them to stare at their queen in bafflement, if not the halfbreed healer who stands before her. But she cannot summon more than a wraith of surprise... and though in her deepest thoughts this troubles her, that troubling remains where it is. Buried deep. "The Maharani honors her servant a second time with her words of wisdom," she murmurs, "but may her servant ask a question?" Wait a minute. When did the girl learn initiative? Thalia gestures with her hand. "Of course. Ask away." "I have said that I am fit to serve you again, Imphada Maharani," says the maiden then, and if it were not for the blankness of her gaze, one might almost call her voice as innocent as a child's. Certainly there is no trace of misery, or the trauma of which Geridan has spoken, or any sign that the healer is dwelling upon whatever losses she has suffered. "I do not understand why you speak of that which I already know cannot be changed. It does not seem relevant to my ability to serve you." And it doesn't, either, Faanshi muses to herself. She doesn't _feel_ miserable. It's a relief, really, this numbness within her. Soothing, almost. Thalia does not appear to lack an answer. "If you do not deal with your problems, Faanshi, then they will come back to haunt you in the future. It is oftentimes easier to deal with an issue before it becomes old and muddled with other problems." Faanshi's sungolden brow crinkles minutely, another tiny signal that her mask of tranquility can be jarred, if she is perplexed enough. "What problems, Imphada?" Is she serious? She certainly seems to be. Through the gauzy silver-gray veil Kerani Kentari Rashid has loaned her, her features are completely earnest. And completely, utterly baffled. Thalia shakes her head. "You act like one who has suffered deep trauma. If you do not wish to admit this, then I cannot help you. The first step to succor is to admit that you have a problem." The shudra's brow crinkles a little further, as she appears to give the matter intent consideration. Somewhere deep within the Queen's words _do_ strike a chord; her healer's heart knows that there is something wrong, that she cannot seem to summon any emotion whatsoever up out of the depths of her mind. But most of the rest of the maiden's awareness is still claimed by genuine confusion. "I am Faanshi," she says then, musingly. "I am a healer, a halfbreed, your shudra, and I assist the Voice to the Sylvans, for whom I must go to the Apisachi, to seek his release. Mehul is one of the Lost Ones now, but he broke the holy surahs, so Soft-Feather brought him justice. I was ill, but I am ill no longer. My memory has failed me in places, but I remember the Hawk of Heaven and that I serve you, His honored wife; my place is to serve, as the Amir-al has commanded that I must always remember." With that, Faanshi nods slightly, seemingly to herself, as if in confirmation. Then she guilelessly and earnestly concludes, "I do not see how any of these are problems, Imphada." There, another glimmer of an expression, fleeting though it may be: the perplexity of a child who seeks enlightenment from the wise adult who can explain a mystery to her. Thalia sighs again, shaking her head a second time. "You do not hear yourself when you speak. You words are emotionless, lacking the flavor which would allow you to fulfill the surah of Compassion. You cannot be compassionate, Faanshi, if you do not feel. Yet, you cannot be totally ruled by your emotions or you will be a perpetual puddle of anguish and uncertainty. You must find a balance within yourself. I cannot do it for you, though I can help you find your way. You cannot eliminate one side of your being and be a whole person. Again, you must admit that you have a problem and that you need help before assistance can be rendered." A direct hit -- for all that the Queen-Maharani's weapon is her wisdom, rather than a falcare. The halfbreed's brows wing down low above her absent eyes, and something begins to kindle in them: a hint of understanding, a momentary keen piercing gleam of acute dislocation, perhaps even a wisp of self-directed fear. Maybe something _is_ wrong, if her mistress insists so vigorously that she needs help? If she cannot fulfill the sixth holy surah-- Memory flashes. _Then you have broken the holy surahs, beloved, and these men have brought you justice._ _Yes, I have... I'll meet it..._ The sharp, swift strike of a sword. The blanket threatens to close in again, calling the void back into Faanshi's eyes, but with an effort the shudra makes herself say, "May... I have the Maharani's leave... to go to pray? Perhaps the Holy Mother will give me guidance..." Thalia nods. "Yes. Pray to Ushas. There are troubled times ahead for us and I will need you to speak to those Sylvans that inhabit this city. I would have you not only healthy in body, but in mind and soul for your tasks ahead. Go and pray to Ushas for not only outer calm, but inner peace as well. Find your balance." In acknowledgement, then, the shudra dips her head forward into a deep bow. "I shall go to pray, then, and will leave for the northern woods at first light tomorrow morning, Imphada Maharani," Faanshi promises, though there still lingers something of the remote and innocent child about her. "Unless you wish me to leave sooner?" "No," replies Thalia. "I would rather than you do a job well, than to do it poor and hurriedly. Go to the temple and pray." Faanshi may be behaving extremely strangely, and all trace of feeling might have left her expression and her eyes, but she still recognizes a dismissal when she hears one. Again she bows, before backing respectfully away the proper distance... and then, only then, turning to take her leave. As she goes, the maiden still shows no sign of perturbation at the many eyes upon her, no sign of dismay or fear at the considering stares of the kshatri and vaisya and Atarvani who wonder exactly what has befallen the Maharani's strangest servant. She might almost be kshatri herself, such is the unconscious ease of her motion, now that her frame is not rigid with shyness... though surely no _respectable_ kshatri would be in her place? The court is quickly deprived of further opportunity for visual inspection of her, though. For as soon as she reaches the doors, her brow still furrowed in contemplation of what the Queen has advised her, Faanshi is gone. [End log.]