Post by Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad on Jan 22, 2010 22:38:59 GMT -5
On my journey I have gazed upon many a beautiful city. But I think it is the light in the City of Elua which strikes me as most beautiful of all its charms. It is a soft, golden drift, fresh with the scents of green things growing and a beneficent sun. The light in my homeland is altogether more oppressive; a true presence, which with strong arms and heady scents fills one's consciousness and brings a contemplative sort of character to all it touches. Here in Terre D'Ange, the glow of day rests lightly, sweetly, much like the hand of a kindly but tentative stranger caressing ones crown with comforting intent. One feels a laugh always in process of bubbling up from within the City of Elua's elegant throat.
As the Caravan approached the dazzling refraction of this light off the city's walls, I peeked between the draperies covering the merchants cart in which I rode. I had to squint to adjust my eyes and compass the view, before the cart slipped in a rattle of echoes beneath the stone archways. The Umaiyyati traders with whom I had long travelled began leaping from the wagons and mounts to stretch their bodies and yawn, speaking with their musical, now lazy cadence through tired smiles. The camels and horses had limp manes and drooping lips, but pricked their ears to the sound of a large, troughed fountain just within the walls. Men of all shades and types led beasts through the gates and toward the water, four abreast, in neat lines. They seemed too exhausted from their varied journeys to bicker.
I looked around the curtain to check my own horse, who was tethered loosely to the back of my wagon. The youngest son of the family with which I rode, covered in dust and sweat from his impatient seat upon the foreboard next to his father, had already begun to untie the rope that held my gelding to the cart. I smiled to myself, wondering that a child so young should be so serious about courtesy.
"Asad," I addressed him in the little of his language I had learned on the way. "Many thanks, but I can do. Your father must need you." He patted my gelding fondly, nodded with his very white, impish smile, and took off at a jog across the courtyard. No doubt to explore, not offer help to his family. In truth, I was as curious and excited as he must have felt. Asad's father, predictably, came round the back of the cart as I unfolded my long legs and slid out from between the draperies. I could feel every bone of my spine complain over the jostling of the wagon.
"Alim!" He called out to me warmly, pressing a hard hand to my shoulder. The Caravan took to naming me 'scholar', which was easier than remembering my name. He spoke slowly and courteously, always patient with my Umaiyyati. "My family will be sad to see you leave us. But this is your destination. It has been a long time! You must be relieved."
"I think I have only just begun, sadiq. Your family is kind and good. I will miss your … hospitality." I struggled with the word but the man grinned broadly up at me and nodded when I found it. "I must bid you farewell… and find an inn to rest." I could only take his hand, knowing he would take nothing else from me. He enfolded me in a brief but warm embrace.
I sorely wished to give him some gift to properly thank him for all the kindnesses he had done me - teaching me the rudiments of his own language as well as a good deal of D'Angeline, feeding me from his family's own meals, allowing me a place in an already overstuffed wagon full of Bhodistani cotton and Umaiyyati resins. His kinsman, whose Caravan we had joined up with near the Ephesian border, had 'adopted' me in kind, just as brave and good as their cousin. There upon a plateau where the Caravan rested and traded with locals, I was taught to ride in the hunt upon Umaiyyati swift horses, alongside their elegant, long-limbed dogs. At a place just within the lush, fertile Caerdicca Unitas the two Caravans parted, but I was gifted a Keheylan gelding by the cousins who were driving the herds into the land for trade. Their Caravan's leader was embarrassedly kind, not wanting to cast doubt upon his strength or control by simply giving away horseflesh to some sickly-pale Drujani stranger. So he had the horse led to me, denouncing him as too tall to be any use for breeding, but therefore perfect for my use.
Neither the active cousins nor the family I travelled with would accept a scrap of payment, though I offered jewels many times. Their faith, like mine, was one of generosity and good acts. We had understood one another in deep and unspoken ways, I think. It was hard to leave them. I knew I may see them once or twice as I wandered the City of Elua, but beyond that, it was likely that we would never again cross paths.
"Go to the Eastern district, Alim. There is a place named The Generous Patron. If you say Nasr Ibn Musa sent you, they are sure to give you a small discount," He winked, and I believed that with his wealth, my friend may well have spent some days resting comfortably in amongst the city's people. He knew too much D'Angeline to simply swoop in and out the gates like a restless pigeon, only brushing up against the culture of this place. "And may the One God guide you to that which you seek." A small figure came bounding up behind Nasr, skidding to a dusty halt against his father's thigh.
"Alim," he panted. "For you… he was only just ready to leave his mother." Heaving, he thrust up a squirming black bundle. "We knew he was for you before Caerdicca Unitas, for he was born just like you!" I reached out with my spidery fingers to enfold the puppy against my thin chest. He licked my chin in the passionate but distracted way that only puppies can.
"Oh, Asad," I said, stroking the fine long head of the sighthound pup. "You and your people have already given me so much…"
"Ah," Nasr rose his hand to still my words. "It is as my son says. He is taller and finer than his brothers, even from birth. He is raven-black, just as your long hair. And he was born the day after you came on the hunt. You mustn't argue with such signs." Nasr grinned his brilliant, gap-toothed grin, and I knew he had been in on the surprise for many weeks. He and I had spoken long into the desert nights of how our people loved dogs - his as companions in the hunt and protectors, mine as perfect loyal companions, deemed to have the ability to purify with their gentle eyes. This was a meaningful gift.
I nodded silently, smiling, a bittersweet feeling of grief and gratitude passing me over.
"Now, we must let the Alim go about his destiny," Said Nasr, patting his son's head fondly. "We have done Allah's will." He looked up at me and patted my thin shoulder again. I nodded and whispered thanks, reverencing him with my hand over my heart. My Umaiyyati failed me completely, but Nasr knew what was in my heart. Asad handed me my gelding's tether and I strode away from the Caravan, away from my temporary family, and into the D'Angeline light.
I carried little - only a pack over one shoulder that contained the meager possessions I had acquired upon my journey, as well as a purse of elaborate jewelry and gems that had been mine in Darsanga. Earned by means that cost me more than ever gold could be worth. Carrying them was akin to carrying the corpse of my mother, impossibly heavy with the weight of my sins. The fire-priests had told me many times that I judged myself too harshly, but they too had been the ones to study the signs I embodied, speculating upon my benighted birth. They knew as well as the people of Darsanga that I was a physical manifestation of some portent. They simply were not as bold as the people in their eagerness to take a side. This is where their learning and the wisdom of Ahura Mazda served them well - if they chose wrongly, they had the judgment of Mazda to contend with.
No one accosted me on the walk to the East District. The city was a hive of bees, a conflagration of people of all kinds rushing to do whatever important dealings they were about. Darsanga had a much less frantic pace. The people were still coming unknotted from the atrocities of my country's past, and as such were pained if they moved too fast. My horse raised his noble, dished profile and watched the city with intelligent glances, tasting the air with his flaring nostrils. But he was at ease, and the puppy had cuddled into the crook of my arm for a sleep, so I knew not to be concerned at the commotion.
I could feel eyes upon me as I moved through the crowd, a sensation I had become very familiar with and had learnt to ignore for the most part. But here, among sights, scents and people I did not know, it unnerved me a little. I knew the gazes held no malice, only confusion. I knew they wondered what I was. To begin with, I was a head taller than any man in the general vicinity. My hair, though caught back in a bone clasp, fell in heavy blue-black curls to my thigh. But it was never that which held their stares. Anyone who beholds me knows I am not quite correct. Spectre. Fereshteh. Daeva-spawn. I resolved to look only forward until I reached the inn.
I found it easily enough and spotted the sign of The Generous Patron across a wide, cobbled expanse of square. Near it was a money-changer, where I modestly withdrew some loose jewels. I was too tired and beset to barter, which surprised the proprietor, I think. He gave me a lacklustre rate of change, I'm sure… but I was much too concerned with rest to investigate. I led my horse to the stable adjacent to the inn and left him with a bright-eyed boy who clearly saw my mount's magnificence. I gave the boy a small coin and watched carefully as the rose-dappled flanks of my gelding were settled into a low box stall beside many other horses whose stature and quality were much abased next to his noble carriage. The boy was petting my horse and speaking fondly to him in some language I had never heard, and I knew I had nothing to fear for my horse's safety.
Entering The Generous Patron, I gazed about me and absorbed the clean, sumptuous décor as well as the good scents wafting from the tavern. The woman who met me in the doorway took my measure with lips slightly ajar, as though I were some sort of upright-walking animal, but I paid it no mind as I was accustomed. I did as Nasr bade me and in unthreatening, even ginger tones, dropped his name. She had trouble glancing away from me as she nodded assent and gave me the fee, in answer to which I asked a week and paid a day extra.
"This way… sir…" She stumbled in her purring language, and I instantly knew that here in Terre D'Ange, like my homeland, the people could be confused by my appearance. Some places were not as discriminating when it came to how men and women should differ. Tearing her eyes away to lead me at a harried clip down a hallway and up a flight of stairs to a vacant room. She stared a while after me when I entered and set down my satchel, but when I turned toward her and requested warm water with which to bathe, she jumped and shut the door hastily. I heard her race down the staircase and wondered if she had even noticed my little canine companion. Ah well, there was more money in my purse should the owner of the inn object. I laid the still comatose puppy upon the bedclothes and went to lean upon the casement of a leaded glass window that looked out over the Artisan's District. My sigh smudged a fog of breath upon the pane, and with bone-weary hope, I looked out at the City of Elua.
"I have much to learn from you," I said softly to the City in my native tongue, no little ache in my heart to match the determination that had led me here. I would find my people. My other blood. Perhaps they could help me find the way to fullfilling Ahura Mazda's will for me. The way to Asha.
As the Caravan approached the dazzling refraction of this light off the city's walls, I peeked between the draperies covering the merchants cart in which I rode. I had to squint to adjust my eyes and compass the view, before the cart slipped in a rattle of echoes beneath the stone archways. The Umaiyyati traders with whom I had long travelled began leaping from the wagons and mounts to stretch their bodies and yawn, speaking with their musical, now lazy cadence through tired smiles. The camels and horses had limp manes and drooping lips, but pricked their ears to the sound of a large, troughed fountain just within the walls. Men of all shades and types led beasts through the gates and toward the water, four abreast, in neat lines. They seemed too exhausted from their varied journeys to bicker.
I looked around the curtain to check my own horse, who was tethered loosely to the back of my wagon. The youngest son of the family with which I rode, covered in dust and sweat from his impatient seat upon the foreboard next to his father, had already begun to untie the rope that held my gelding to the cart. I smiled to myself, wondering that a child so young should be so serious about courtesy.
"Asad," I addressed him in the little of his language I had learned on the way. "Many thanks, but I can do. Your father must need you." He patted my gelding fondly, nodded with his very white, impish smile, and took off at a jog across the courtyard. No doubt to explore, not offer help to his family. In truth, I was as curious and excited as he must have felt. Asad's father, predictably, came round the back of the cart as I unfolded my long legs and slid out from between the draperies. I could feel every bone of my spine complain over the jostling of the wagon.
"Alim!" He called out to me warmly, pressing a hard hand to my shoulder. The Caravan took to naming me 'scholar', which was easier than remembering my name. He spoke slowly and courteously, always patient with my Umaiyyati. "My family will be sad to see you leave us. But this is your destination. It has been a long time! You must be relieved."
"I think I have only just begun, sadiq. Your family is kind and good. I will miss your … hospitality." I struggled with the word but the man grinned broadly up at me and nodded when I found it. "I must bid you farewell… and find an inn to rest." I could only take his hand, knowing he would take nothing else from me. He enfolded me in a brief but warm embrace.
I sorely wished to give him some gift to properly thank him for all the kindnesses he had done me - teaching me the rudiments of his own language as well as a good deal of D'Angeline, feeding me from his family's own meals, allowing me a place in an already overstuffed wagon full of Bhodistani cotton and Umaiyyati resins. His kinsman, whose Caravan we had joined up with near the Ephesian border, had 'adopted' me in kind, just as brave and good as their cousin. There upon a plateau where the Caravan rested and traded with locals, I was taught to ride in the hunt upon Umaiyyati swift horses, alongside their elegant, long-limbed dogs. At a place just within the lush, fertile Caerdicca Unitas the two Caravans parted, but I was gifted a Keheylan gelding by the cousins who were driving the herds into the land for trade. Their Caravan's leader was embarrassedly kind, not wanting to cast doubt upon his strength or control by simply giving away horseflesh to some sickly-pale Drujani stranger. So he had the horse led to me, denouncing him as too tall to be any use for breeding, but therefore perfect for my use.
Neither the active cousins nor the family I travelled with would accept a scrap of payment, though I offered jewels many times. Their faith, like mine, was one of generosity and good acts. We had understood one another in deep and unspoken ways, I think. It was hard to leave them. I knew I may see them once or twice as I wandered the City of Elua, but beyond that, it was likely that we would never again cross paths.
"Go to the Eastern district, Alim. There is a place named The Generous Patron. If you say Nasr Ibn Musa sent you, they are sure to give you a small discount," He winked, and I believed that with his wealth, my friend may well have spent some days resting comfortably in amongst the city's people. He knew too much D'Angeline to simply swoop in and out the gates like a restless pigeon, only brushing up against the culture of this place. "And may the One God guide you to that which you seek." A small figure came bounding up behind Nasr, skidding to a dusty halt against his father's thigh.
"Alim," he panted. "For you… he was only just ready to leave his mother." Heaving, he thrust up a squirming black bundle. "We knew he was for you before Caerdicca Unitas, for he was born just like you!" I reached out with my spidery fingers to enfold the puppy against my thin chest. He licked my chin in the passionate but distracted way that only puppies can.
"Oh, Asad," I said, stroking the fine long head of the sighthound pup. "You and your people have already given me so much…"
"Ah," Nasr rose his hand to still my words. "It is as my son says. He is taller and finer than his brothers, even from birth. He is raven-black, just as your long hair. And he was born the day after you came on the hunt. You mustn't argue with such signs." Nasr grinned his brilliant, gap-toothed grin, and I knew he had been in on the surprise for many weeks. He and I had spoken long into the desert nights of how our people loved dogs - his as companions in the hunt and protectors, mine as perfect loyal companions, deemed to have the ability to purify with their gentle eyes. This was a meaningful gift.
I nodded silently, smiling, a bittersweet feeling of grief and gratitude passing me over.
"Now, we must let the Alim go about his destiny," Said Nasr, patting his son's head fondly. "We have done Allah's will." He looked up at me and patted my thin shoulder again. I nodded and whispered thanks, reverencing him with my hand over my heart. My Umaiyyati failed me completely, but Nasr knew what was in my heart. Asad handed me my gelding's tether and I strode away from the Caravan, away from my temporary family, and into the D'Angeline light.
I carried little - only a pack over one shoulder that contained the meager possessions I had acquired upon my journey, as well as a purse of elaborate jewelry and gems that had been mine in Darsanga. Earned by means that cost me more than ever gold could be worth. Carrying them was akin to carrying the corpse of my mother, impossibly heavy with the weight of my sins. The fire-priests had told me many times that I judged myself too harshly, but they too had been the ones to study the signs I embodied, speculating upon my benighted birth. They knew as well as the people of Darsanga that I was a physical manifestation of some portent. They simply were not as bold as the people in their eagerness to take a side. This is where their learning and the wisdom of Ahura Mazda served them well - if they chose wrongly, they had the judgment of Mazda to contend with.
No one accosted me on the walk to the East District. The city was a hive of bees, a conflagration of people of all kinds rushing to do whatever important dealings they were about. Darsanga had a much less frantic pace. The people were still coming unknotted from the atrocities of my country's past, and as such were pained if they moved too fast. My horse raised his noble, dished profile and watched the city with intelligent glances, tasting the air with his flaring nostrils. But he was at ease, and the puppy had cuddled into the crook of my arm for a sleep, so I knew not to be concerned at the commotion.
I could feel eyes upon me as I moved through the crowd, a sensation I had become very familiar with and had learnt to ignore for the most part. But here, among sights, scents and people I did not know, it unnerved me a little. I knew the gazes held no malice, only confusion. I knew they wondered what I was. To begin with, I was a head taller than any man in the general vicinity. My hair, though caught back in a bone clasp, fell in heavy blue-black curls to my thigh. But it was never that which held their stares. Anyone who beholds me knows I am not quite correct. Spectre. Fereshteh. Daeva-spawn. I resolved to look only forward until I reached the inn.
I found it easily enough and spotted the sign of The Generous Patron across a wide, cobbled expanse of square. Near it was a money-changer, where I modestly withdrew some loose jewels. I was too tired and beset to barter, which surprised the proprietor, I think. He gave me a lacklustre rate of change, I'm sure… but I was much too concerned with rest to investigate. I led my horse to the stable adjacent to the inn and left him with a bright-eyed boy who clearly saw my mount's magnificence. I gave the boy a small coin and watched carefully as the rose-dappled flanks of my gelding were settled into a low box stall beside many other horses whose stature and quality were much abased next to his noble carriage. The boy was petting my horse and speaking fondly to him in some language I had never heard, and I knew I had nothing to fear for my horse's safety.
Entering The Generous Patron, I gazed about me and absorbed the clean, sumptuous décor as well as the good scents wafting from the tavern. The woman who met me in the doorway took my measure with lips slightly ajar, as though I were some sort of upright-walking animal, but I paid it no mind as I was accustomed. I did as Nasr bade me and in unthreatening, even ginger tones, dropped his name. She had trouble glancing away from me as she nodded assent and gave me the fee, in answer to which I asked a week and paid a day extra.
"This way… sir…" She stumbled in her purring language, and I instantly knew that here in Terre D'Ange, like my homeland, the people could be confused by my appearance. Some places were not as discriminating when it came to how men and women should differ. Tearing her eyes away to lead me at a harried clip down a hallway and up a flight of stairs to a vacant room. She stared a while after me when I entered and set down my satchel, but when I turned toward her and requested warm water with which to bathe, she jumped and shut the door hastily. I heard her race down the staircase and wondered if she had even noticed my little canine companion. Ah well, there was more money in my purse should the owner of the inn object. I laid the still comatose puppy upon the bedclothes and went to lean upon the casement of a leaded glass window that looked out over the Artisan's District. My sigh smudged a fog of breath upon the pane, and with bone-weary hope, I looked out at the City of Elua.
"I have much to learn from you," I said softly to the City in my native tongue, no little ache in my heart to match the determination that had led me here. I would find my people. My other blood. Perhaps they could help me find the way to fullfilling Ahura Mazda's will for me. The way to Asha.