"A Return of Tears"

Log Date:
	6/25, 6/27/01

Log Cast:
	Faanshi, Salmalin

Log Intro:
	Hard on the heels of her return from the Ettowealona, Faanshi must 
turn right around and visit the other tribe of Sylvans that dwells outside 
Haven -- the Apisachi, who like outsiders very little. Especially those of 
the city, who they call stonewalkers. The young shudra has learned from her 
mistress the Maharani that the one who -- at least _officially_ -- bears 
the title of the Voice to the Sylvans has gone to this reclusive, wary 
tribe... in search of _her_.
	Now, she has reached the territory of the Apisachi, only to discover
that the Sylvans are keeping Salmalin al'Sar among them and do not intend
to permit him to leave until they are assured that he has learned all he
must to properly serve as a Speaker to their people. And for all that she is
delighted beyond words that Salmalin is alive, she is also scared beyond 
belief. She has been permitted to stay for the time being in their camp, but
it is more than obvious to her that the Sachem WolfEyes and the warrior
Wind Runner are less than happy to see her among them.
	With no choice but to wait till Salmalin is done with whatever task 
they have set him for the day, Faanshi is left to try to figure out on her 
own how to begin her career as a Speaker to Sylvans, a lofty position of 
which she knows nothing. She winds up doing it by volunteering herself for 
what she does know: how to serve and how to work, even if it is at a task 
so simple as the mending of clothing. Thus does she manage to occupy at 
least her hands for the course of the day, though her mind remains ill at 
ease until she sees Salmalin again that night....

*===========================< In Character Time >==========================* 
             Time of day:  Night (Duskside) 
          Date on Aether:  Sunday, July 5, 3908. 
           Year on Earth:  1508 A.D. 
       Phase of the Moon:  Last Quarter 
                  Season:  Summer 
                 Weather:  Partly Cloudy 
             Temperature:  Warm 
*==========================================================================*

Cave - Northern Forest(#1560RALh)
     The cave is rather small, only one cavern, with a ceiling about seven 
  feet high. The cavern spreads back into the rock, and ends some fifteen or 
  twenty feet back. The cave seems to be kept fairly clean of dirt or debris. 
  A small bed of softer grasses and leaves with a simple several furs thrown 
  over it rests in the corner. Other than that the cavern is fairly bare.
Obvious exits:
Out <O>

Salmalin slips into the cave from outside.
Salmalin has arrived.

The day hasn't exactly gone as she'd expected -- but then again, Faanshi 
  cannot honestly say she's really known much of what to expect of the insular 
  Apisachi. They have, at least, been willing enough to put her to work, and 
  so she has contributed as best she can, helping this or that tribeswoman 
  with the mending of garments, or being supervised by ones skilled in herbs 
  in her contributions to the cooking. She has not disdained even such menial 
  tasks as hauling water, and all through her work, she has shyly attempted to 
  answer such questions as have been put to her -- her name, what and who she 
  is, why she is here.
At last, she is permitted to sit down alone for a while in one of the caves 
  near the camp, and within she sinks down tiredly, grateful for Kosha's loyal 
  presence at her side. "I wish they were not bothered by you," she whispers 
  to the dog, as he lays his big furry head down in her lap by way of a 
  request for his ears to be skitched. "I wish I was better at this...!"

A shadow at the mouth of the cave pauses a moment, running a hand through 
  lengthening hair. Then with quiet, easy steps it moves forward at the sound 
  of the voice. "Did I hear you say, Imphada Faanshi, that you wished to be 
  better at something?" The voice is playful and clearly that of the 
  ambassador Salmalin. As he comes closer to the small fire that keeps the 
  cave lit he smiles at the woman. "What could you possibly not be perfect at 
  doing?"

Him! Kosha recognizes the young man entering, and he looks up with a thump of 
  his tail even as Faanshi jerks her attention up from the well-deserved 
  scritching of his ears. The girl's eyes go wide over her veil -- a veil 
  which, it might be added, is not only not the black one she had worn in 
  mourning, but a lighter one than seems habitual for her as well. It permits 
  a glimpse of her mouth and chin beneath it. She does not smile. But there is 
  a noticeable relief in her voice nevertheless, as she answers lowly, "I was 
  talking to Kosha... namaste'...!"

Salmalin bows his head to Faanshi and then reaches down to pet Kosha. "I am 
  sure Kosha thinks that you do a fine job. He seems content as ever." 
  Kneeling down before the woman, the ambassador smiles at her and his eyes 
  sparkle with a barely suppressed happiness. "Namaste," he finally greets 
  back, again running a hand through his hair to keep it from his eyes. "I 
  hope that you are doing well Faanshi. I heard that you were helping around 
  the camp while I was away. You did not have any trouble?"

As far as Kosha is concerned, whatever the Apisachi might have to teach 
  Salmalin cannot be nearly so important as one thing and one thing only: 
  Petting the Dog. He eagerly butts his head against Salmalin's hand, 
  encouraging further attentions along those very lines, while Faanshi adjusts 
  her line of sight to follow the Varati man as he kneels. Soberly, she shakes 
  her head to his last question; her head, too, looks different than it has in 
  the past. To start with, it is uncovered, her red leyang slipped down off 
  her hair. And her hair, for that matter is... short. "The Apisachi have been 
  gruff," she replies, "but not unkind." A pause, as she considers exactly how 
  to address the question of her wellness; her expression goes odd behind the 
  veil, and finally she must settle for admitting, "I am... here." That's 
  about the best she can say for herself, at the moment.

Salmalin looks away from Kosha, though he continues to pet the dog behind the 
  ears. It is now that he really studies Faanshi. As always he is not shy 
  about his attentions and for a while he lets his gaze linger upon her 
  features. "A woman who is 'just here' does not change her appearance as you 
  have, Faanshi. But you already know that I am here for you, should you need 
  to talk." With that he smiles and then turns his eyes back to Kosha, smiling 
  like a child. "I like what you have done with your hair, by the way," he 
  adds after a moment.

Her sungolden brow crinkles, for she isn't exactly sure how to fathom that 
  remark about her appearance. "My old clothes were lost," she says with 
  hesitation... though there is no stammer in her voice. "I had to ask the 
  khansamah for new ones." And again she pauses, her glance shunting off 
  sideways, distant. "I sacrificed my hair to the Amir-al," the maiden says 
  then, her voice going quieter.

Dark eyes lift and his hands still. "Sacrificed?" He asks with a bit of 
  amazement to his voice.

Without looking back at the young man before her, her gaze still dark and 
  distant, Faanshi gravely nods her head. "When I returned from the 
  Ettowealona," she murmurs, "I went to tell the Maharani where I had been, 
  and she saw that I was... not myself. I went to the Temple to pray, because 
  my heart was as ashes in my breast. And the Most High Himself spoke to me, 
  though I did not know it was He until He removed his cloak and stood before 
  me. He told me that I was caging my pain inside of me and that I should let 
  it go. So I spent the night in the Temple and lit candles for all whom I 
  have lost, and sacrificed my hair as I rose with the dawn to come in search 
  of you." It might not be the longest thing she has ever uttered to Salmalin, 
  but it could well come close, this stark, soft recounting of what she did 
  with herself just before her entrance into Apisachi lands.

Salmalin can only stare at the woman before him. Words are the farthest thing 
  from his mind, yet his body does not move. Sitting as still as ever he 
  blinks mindlessly as each breath passes through him. It is only with the 
  sound of someone calling outside that he returns to the confines of the 
  cave. "And now?" It is all that he can think of, "Your pain? Does it still 
  burn within you?"

To this, Faanshi's eyes close, and the softest of breaths sounds somewhere 
  behind the new gauzy blue veil she wears. Its silver chain glints against 
  the chopped-off strands of her hair, and just over the shape of the ear that 
  holds the chain up... the misshapen ear just visible under loose ebon locks. 
  "I feel as though I have been scoured in fire," she whispers, "and I do not 
  know if I have done as the Amir-al bade me, for my heart hurts inside me." 
  Now she looks up again, her eyes plaintive. "I praise Ushas that you are not 
  dead, Salmalin, for I do not think I could bear another death."

It is now and perhaps against better judgement that Salmalin reaches out for 
  one of Faanshi's hands. His head shakes and there is a pain in his features 
  as though he felt what she was feeling. "That you feel this pain and can 
  speak of it... Wounds always hurt the most when they are healing. You have 
  been through too much for the pain to heal quickly." Trying to smile through 
  his concern he adds, "And you should not worry for me. I would not be so 
  inconsiderate as to get myself killed so early in life. There is far too 
  much trouble for me to cause yet."

For a moment Faanshi stares at the hand reaching for her own, as if not quite 
  divining its intent -- and then, hers snaps out almost of its own accord to 
  not only meet Salmalin's, but cling to it with a strength one might not 
  think could be produced by the halfbreed's slender fingers. Words of 
  concerned advice have been given her, oh aye, but an actual gesture of 
  comfort is something else again, and something in her soul now seizes upon 
  this one. Her hand starts to tremble, while memory flashes behind her eyes 
  -- what she has been through. "I will need to return to Atesh-Gah," she 
  begins, but her voice comes out of her strained. "And... tell the Maharani 
  you are well and learning from the Apisachi..."
Her fingers start to tremble harder. Kosha, half concerned that the Petting of 
  the Dog has stopped and half concerned about the shudra, looks back and 
  forth between the humans and finally settles for laying his head in the 
  maiden's lap once again.

The strength of her hand catches Salmalin off-guard but he does not withdraw 
  his hand. He merely squeezes back in reassurance, smiling with relief. His 
  other hand follows , as the trembling begins, to stroke comfortingly. 
  "Perhaps it is I that should go.. You are the true Voice, Faanshi. I just 
  happened to stumble my way into this mess. They would probably take better 
  to you than they have to me." He grins a little at that and then again he 
  does something against his better judgement.. he leans down to place a kiss 
  against her hand, hoping to ease the shaking.

Those words of his only serve to remind the shudra girl of the feelings of 
  inadequacy she has suffered all day, ever since fumbling her way through the 
  talk with the Sachem and with the other graisha woman, the one who had been 
  so angry at her presence. "I do not feel like a Voice," she mumbles 
  forlornly. "I feel like a _servant girl_, and I am so afraid I will do 
  something wrong -- I didn't even know there was an agreement -- and--" Her 
  voice chokes off, and her eyes squeeze shut, hard. The gentle attention to 
  her hand, rather opposite of what Salmalin intends, merely serves to set off 
  a chain reaction of trembling that shoots right up to her shoulders and 
  makes her groan out tinily, "They cut off his head."

Salmalin keeps hold of Faanshi's hand, afraid to let go. It is with a deep 
  breath that he tries to find some way to help instead of making things 
  worse. But can he do or say anything? If she feels inadequate he feels 
  completely helpless. "Faanshi.. What is done is done. Our fates cannot be 
  changed, nor can we dwell upon what has happened to the point that we are 
  unable to do anything else." Be brave, suck it up. It sounds hollow to his 
  ears, but he cannot just sit by and do nothing.

"I know this..." With an effort she looks up again, and now her expression has 
  cracked entirely, wetness beginning to brim up in her eyes of summer's 
  green, her entire form beginning to subtly tremble. It is the same message 
  that Khalid Himself has given her -- let the pain go -- but she cannot yet 
  banish the image of a sword cleaving a dark neck branded into her inner 
  consciousness. Her mind says she must be brave and bear it, her heart cries 
  out in protest and mourning, and between them... Faanshi is for the first 
  time beginning to cry since she left those other woods. "I am... trying to 
  let it go, it will help if... I have duties to attend..."

Salmalin smiles and nods. "Then stay here.. learn what I seem too dense to 
  comprehend. Despite their crude methods, these Apisachi have much to teach 
  and perhaps they could also help to heal what is broken inside." He pats her 
  hand gently as he fights the desire to wipe the tears from her eyes. It is 
  best that she does what is necessary.

Doing what is necessary has always been one of the few things Faanshi could 
  call a skill. What is necessary now, she sternly tells herself, is to try to 
  keep what is left of her composure. "Forgive me breaking down," she 
  whispers, and for all that her soft voice is roughened by the tears within 
  it, she somehow nevertheless manages not to stammer. It could perhaps be 
  that though she does not realize it, she has at least on some level managed 
  to let go of the pain inside her. _Is_ letting go, for she continues to 
  strive to function even as her tears trickle down to wet her veil. "I did... 
  not expect I would cry...!"

"There is nothing to forgive," Salmalin says with a small laugh. "There is no 
  law, no one here at all to say that you cannot cry." Like the faithful dog 
  whose head rests in her lap, the man before her sits there with only 
  Faanshi's well being in mind. That he he has nothing to offer that could 
  compare to the words of a God or of a lover only makes him more determined 
  to just be there. If she needs him he is there, if not.. then life will be 
  as it was.

It's not often that Faanshi is given leave to vent her sorrows. Telling her 
  she _must_ is one thing, but to be willing to be with her and comfort her 
  while she does so -- that's another matter entirely. She would never dream 
  of receiving such consolation from her mistress the Queen, but this strange 
  young kshatri, even when he was pulled inebriated and rambling off the 
  streets, has been ever friendly to her. And he is being comforting now. The 
  girl's expression spikes sharply with what can only be gratitude as tears 
  freshly well up within that green gaze of hers, and she bows her head for a 
  moment, bringing up both her hands to squeeze Salmalin's own between them. 
  It is human contact, it is comfort, and she needs it sorely.

Speechless now, Salmalin looks into those teary eyes and then almost shyly he 
  looks away. His hands are steadfast within her own and his presence 
  unwilling to move from her side.

Crying is never _comfortable_, but in a strange sort of way it makes Faanshi 
  begin to feel better, those tears squeezing out between her dark lashes. It 
  tells her feeling is beginning to return to her thoughts, if she can weep. 
  She clings to Salmalin's hand for several long moments, making no noise but 
  a few soft ragged breaths and a sniffle behind her veil... until at last she 
  must release his fingers and attend to that very veil, for crying is even 
  less comfortable when some of your face is covered by silk. And then she 
  pauses again, looking strangely bemused and saying in a half-perplexed tone, 
  "I... have spent months... without a veil."

Salmalin looks up when Faanshi's hand disappears from his and he seems confused 
  at her words. He does not say a word, though, as he watches her. What she 
  means or is thinking is beyond him and to guess would be meaningless. So he 
  waits and watches.

Faanshi draws in a shuddering breath, and at last reaches behind her head to 
  undo the chain that holds her veil in place. With one hand she lowers away 
  the gauzy blue silk; with the other, she scrubs against her cheeks, trying 
  to clear the tears away. Between that gesture and the abrupt cut of her 
  thick dark hair off short at her neck, one might think she is quite younger 
  than she normally appears. "I told the Sachem," she whispers then, hoarsely, 
  "that I have been among the Ettowealona, but... I did not remember... who I 
  was. I was ill. Now... I am unsure of what I learned there... what I could 
  learn here. I do not want to leave you alone, but the Sachem is right... if 
  we are both to serve as Voices we must learn of the Sylvans, and..." She has 
  not been looking at the young man as she's uttered this, but now she does 
  once again, concluding, "I know that the Queen-Maharani has said that I must 
  be the true Voice but I... would hope... that we could do this together 
  somehow." Need him? Yes, she does. He is a familiar face to a memory that 
  still is not exactly secure... and a comforting face, besides.

As Salmalin realizes what Faanshi is doing he politely lowers his eyes away, 
  remembering the last time she had done so in his presence. He swallows and 
  nods. "But we are... You fullfill the role of the Voice and alI allow the 
  Varati court to continue pretending that men are still in control." This 
  thought brings a smile to his lips and still he remains with his eyes 
  lowered. Slowly his hands withdraw to the side, curling into loose fists. "I 
  will do what I can to help you, Faanshi... "

Before she was felled by the Dipavali poison, Faanshi might have started and 
  looked aghast at the notion that men do _not_ control the machinations of 
  Thalia's court. But her world has turned on its head since then, making her 
  see it with new eyes. It is a world in which God-Kings can touch the 
  shoulders of humble shudra when their spirits are shattered... and a world 
  in which, perhaps, she can admit to actually _needing_ help. "I do not... 
  much feel like I am in control," she admits. "Especially not... right now." 
  She sighs, inspecting her veil, and deciding there's little to be done for 
  its dampness. Up it goes again, the chain looped behind her stubbed ears, 
  under her cropped coal-black locks of hair. "But I would gladly accept your 
  help. I do not feel very brave talking to the Apisachi."

"You wield the power of life and death. You are both innocent and jaded.. 
  Faanshi.." Salmalin says quietly. ".. I wish that I could give to you the 
  confidence that you need, that you have." He looks up again once he is sure 
  her veil is back on. He smiles gently, his hands folded in his lap. "Our 
  fates are decided at birth, our judgement awaiting us in the end. Until then 
  there is nothing more to do than live.. and do what is necessary because 
  each step is guided by something more powerful than ourselves. Your faith is 
  great, but still you hesitate to fully trust in it."

Kosha once again puts in his two dinarii by nudging at Faanshi's belly with 
  his nose, and the maiden blows out another soft breath and applies herself 
  to thorough scritching of the hound's head. As she does, she stares down at 
  her own hands, very aware of the power she carries within them. "The 
  Maharani does not demand the service of my magic," she murmurs. With a trace 
  of disappointment and regret? It is difficult to say, with the softness of 
  her voice. "It is necessary that I be Voice now." A pause, and then she 
  says, more or less in the direction of Kosha's ears and barely above a 
  whisper, "In the other woods... I was only Faanshi."

Salmalin shakes his head at the dog and smiles. He reaches out as well to pet 
  Kosha lightly. "I have found that we are seldom one thing at any time, 
  Faanshi. Because the Maharani does not demand your services it does not mean 
  you are any less of a healer. Because you are Faanshi.... that does not mean 
  you are not the Voice. You are both and more." After a while he leans back 
  against the floor, his hands resting behind his head. Staring up into the 
  dark cave ceiling the man hums lightly for a moment. It is a quiet tune, 
  almost sad, though it does not last long. " Do they know yet? That you are 
  meant to be the true Voice?"

Quietly, shyly, Faanshi shakes her head. "I... didn't... quite know what to 
  tell them. I do not know what _you_ have told them." Her gaze comes up in 
  search of the young Varati's then, full of uncertainty. "They say they will 
  not let you go until you are taught enough... and they talked about an 
  agreement I knew _nothing_ about...!"

Salmalin looks away and says nothing for a long while. He just breathes, long 
  deep breathes. "That is my fault..." he finally says. There is shame in his 
  demeanor, the way he holds himself now. "You were gone and I did not know 
  what to do. I had thought the Maharani had sent you on some errand so when I 
  was confronted by the Apisachi..." He shakes his head. "I thought it should 
  be easy and you would not have to be bothered by it. By the time the truth 
  was revealed I found us both here. The only thing we can do is tell them the 
  truth... though I am sure they will look down upon me for telling them 
  sooner."

The maiden studies Salmalin as he goes quiet, and as he speaks again. "Yes," 
  she murmurs at last when he is done, "we should speak to the Sachem... I... 
  do not think the Imphada Maharani will like it very much if I come back 
  without you." She pauses as she peers down at Kosha's ear, flicking against 
  her fingers, then her gaze flickers back up again. "But... perhaps that 
  should happen in the morning. I am tired." And again she pauses, looking 
  down at the dog again, as she whispers, "Thank you, Salmalin, for... letting 
  me say that."

Salmalin smiles at Faanshi and then starts to rise. He bows his head 
  slightly. "I merely listened.. I did not make you talk," he says gently. 
  With a last tickle behind Kosha's ear Salmalin says, "Sleep well Faanshi. I 
  will see you in the morning."

"Thank you for listening," Faanshi says, her eyes absolutely earnest as she 
  lifts their gaze to track Salmalin's rising. "I am not... used to people 
  listening to me." Well, at any rate, not too many who hasn't _died_ or 
  vanished, but the young shudra strives not to dwell upon that. "Or wanting 
  to."

"You should get used to it, Faanshi. You are now the Voice.. and while many 
  will not want to listen.. they will have no choice," Salmalin says with a 
  smile. There is a fondness to the way he looks at Faanshi and before he 
  turns to leave he adds, "The Maharani would not have given you this task if 
  she did not believe in you."

A strange look crosses the shudra's eyes, one which might almost be 
  translated as surprise at Salmalin's assertion; is this the first time 
  anyone has ever suggested such a thing to her? She does not say so in so 
  many words... but still, that look of nascent enlightenment is there. 
  Fragile halfbreed, poised between profound nervousness and the beginnings of 
  what might almost be bravery; she's been brave before. When healing the man 
  before her, in fact. In her magic, she has never seemed to lack confidence. 
  Here, among the Apisachi, can she extend that confidence out to the task 
  that lies before her?
If that ever so slight lessening of the bleakness of her expression is any 
  sign, perhaps... perhaps she just might.
"I am glad that she brought you to work with me, Salmalin," she murmurs 
  solemnly. "Good night...!"

[End log.]