Khortuun
The lands of the Khortuun swelter in the Ustarran sun. For the longest time, of course, this is indeed all that they have done. Swelter. Remain. Be. But in this, the fourth century of the Reckoning, the Khortuun themselves are more than mere features of the land.
Mountains and desert sands do not dream, after all – and the Khortuun, for all their generations of bickering, prattle and inconsistency – have done plenty of that. Especially in recent years. In fact, to the observant, it should come as no surprise that the Khortuun tribes and their Temple-Mothers have expanded beyond the grasp of their desert vale. They have made their homes north, across the mountains of the Spine and the flatlands of the great, green grass-sea. They have ventured vest, swung sap-blooded axes against the trunks of great, green trees and hacked themselves homes there also. And farther west still – they have even fashioned lives for themselves upon the shores of a true and proper sea. Is it the one the Deepkin call the Mirror Sea? Or another deep, unknowable ocean entirely? The Khortuun do not know such things – for the Deepkin are a mystery unto all peoples but themselves – but this much the Khortuun do know: they have come this far. And they will go farther still.
Question is – towards what horizon shall their gnarled Temple-Mothers drag their squalling children? What dreams shall guide and whip them? Many, as it turns out. Many and more.
Away beyond the heat and shimmer of the Great Desert, the dream that has guided the Khortuun’s wisest minds for several years now is the dream of a proper, consistent way of guiding intelligence. Though perhaps ‘guiding intelligence’ is a queer, smokey way of saying it. No, words would better be fashioned by calling it what it is: Spycraft. The Khortuun, for all their fine cities and lofty ambitions, are wary of their neighbors. To their north, after all, the stony homes of the Sky-Brothers have only recently rung with words of fealty and friendship. To the Temple-Mothers and their futures, sure. To the east, meanwhile, the sky-girt court of the Painted King – Lord Under the Mountain – has rebuffed the Mothers’ advances, but left a side-door open for further discussions. For a road to further friendship – perhaps – if shod with blood and iron. And farther south, across the sand of the Ustarr, their fierce and hated contenders to the mastery of the Ustarran lounge in the desert heat – indolent and mean. The people of ash-and-purple banners. The ones at home upon the plateau the Mothers call Throne-of-Light.
Dead-Callers, these men are. Sorcerers whose words foul the very air. Who offend all creation with their mere existence – and threaten all the Mothers wish to keep safe and splendid.
To this end, then, the Mothers of the Khortuun must know spycraft. Must know how to form intelligence networks, to build access, reliable reports, whisper contacts and know where other men merely guess. Why, if such skill and ability were to be gained by the Temple-Mothers – they could well embark upon the following endeavors with great delight and expedience:
North of Three-Brothers, in far Kachalla where the Sky-Brothers live, the Mothers’ would install their agents. To monitor and befriend the elders of the Brethren’s council – and thus ensure that their friends were, well, friendly. For if Kachalla were to one day stand as a Khortuun city – well. It would need to be guided, yes? Ignorance dispelled and dissent dissuaded. This, the Mothers feel, is best done with whispers and generous gifts – as opposed to something as crass as a Corvidian battering ram. After all, as the saying goes: “One catches more flies with honey than vinegar.”
Some vinegar, all the same, might be required where the Painted King is concerned. This potentate, while fierce and proud, is still of interest to the Mothers of the Khortuun – and to leave him sitting there, proud and sharp in his mountain holdfast – is to invite uncertainty into the lives into the Khortuun’s children. And this just will not do. No, sir. But how is the employment of spies and whisperers meant to ensure the goodwill of the Painted King? To put it simply – it isn’t. But it is meant to ensure the goodwill and friendship of his future heirs. For the Khortuun understand – or at least think they understand – the nature of the Painted King’s rule. His reign is one wherein his power is eventually handed to a chosen heir – an appointed and designated figure who shall one day rule in his stead. So! The Mothers, then, will ensure that this heir is one gifted with the ability to see the Khortuun for the affectionate friends and solid neighbors that they are. By seeding the Painted King’s court – and that of his children – with agents loyal to Khortuun coin and Khortuun faith – the Mothers will ensure this. Oh, yes. And in time, if the Painted King keeps resisting the Many Mothers overtures? Well. Perhaps a more likeable heir can be encouraged to remove an ailing father from his throne entirely. The Khortuun already know the powers of White Death, after all – and with spies and whisper at their side – perhaps a white knife in the right place can solve troubles that even a thousand spears could not? Of these things – of Coherent Intelligence Networks – the Many Mothers dream. Oh yes.
But that is not all.
The Many Mothers hold power in Sorrowfree by dint of their faith – the religion of the Mother Moon and the hierarchy they, by word and tradition, have fashioned in Her name. As the next few years roll by, it is the hopes of the Khortuun’s wisest that the scriptures of their faith will be. Heh. Expanded? Propagated? Improved upon? Hm. No – enhanced, is perhaps the better word – enhanced into a truly universal religion. For it is known and understood by the Many Mothers that – if a man’s soul is to be imbued with the highest purpose and the clearest gleam – one must speak to his soul. This, above all others, will light his purpose ablaze. And to do this properly, the Many Mothers must arm their faith with truly Universal Rites.
Another goal the Many Mothers have set for themselves – one particularly in vogue amongst the Crones of the Blackthorn Circle – is a somewhat more mundane matter. Food; namely, food diversification. For it is one staple crop, above all others, which the Khortuun know for dinner, breakfast and supper. Mashed beans, bean-bread, roasted beans and every combination of cookery, bakery and preparation in between. The Khortuun diet must diversify – not to move away from this staple, but to include more. And this, to be sure, their lands can well manage – for a great many excellent foodstuffs are already known to the heirs of the Many Mothers. The prickle-pear, for instance – or the yellow tubers growing wild in the hills by Kura Kumble. The clucking feather-birds and savory red fruits of Three-Brothers are also worthy of mention. If these were to be known – and cultivated accordingly – all across the Khortuun world would be happier for it. After all, as another saying illustrates: Empty bellies are not found in loyal men. Or Mothers either, for that matter.
But this is not the farthest extent of Khortuun ambitions. Oh, no.
It is the Sisterhood of Starry wisdom who, perhaps, in their dreamy-eyed murmurings over at the Prophet’s Retreat, take things the farthest. Into the dim, whispery realm of sorcery. It is known, after all, that while their Corvidian cousins possess sorcery to bulk men’s flesh and twist great muscles, and the men of the River Republic walk through shadows, and the men of distant Eleskar command stone and metal to walk as men – the Crones of the Khortuun hold no such power. They do, to put it simply, know no Sorcery. And yet their fiercest enemy, the southern fiends of the Throne-of-Light, can command the very dead to walk again. The Khortuun must address this lack: must fashion for themselves sorcery of their own. And the Sisterhood mean to do so my coaxing into reality a dream of old – that of Sunlit Speech. Even the dimmest Crone can imagine many uses for communication and speech that can twist men’s fanciest and minds. Subtly, mind you. Gently – sweetly – nudge it in the direction the speaker desires.
Indeed – if Universal Rites could spread the Mother-Moon’s faith beyond their lands, and loyal spies or dedicated diplomats gain access to foreign courts and halls of power – how much better could not the Crones interest be served by the nudge of sorcery? Better, say the Sisterhood – and more than better. If the Khortuun mean to guarantee control of their own destinies – if they mean to sit as mistresses and war-mothers, proud and secure in the company of Corvidian grandees and Eleskari magi – sorcery is not just a handy tool. It is an absolute and indispensable must. And the Khortuun must have it – the sooner the better. Oh, yes. Perhaps, some argue, sorcery could even be key to finally waging successful war against the Throne-of-Light? Could be used to glean their secrets – to open their gates and speak their dead back into their graves? Silly notions and fanciful dreams, some say. But are not all dreams and all fates born of such things?
Such things, for instance, as the twisted, molten-glass crystals of lurid green discovered some years ago on the outskirts of Sorrowfree. It is whispered and accepted – by dint of no evidence, mind – that these green, molten crystals must surely hold some great and sorcerous power. The Crones know this. The Crones assure themselves of this. Indeed, in their wildest fanciest and most delight dreams, they even tell themselves that it holds the key to sorcery grander and sharper than even the wonders of the Deepkin or Eleskari magisters. So why, then, have the wisest of the Khortuun not already seen fit to master this challenge? Perhaps the memory of the cost that the research into the White Death took amongst their best and wisest still give the Khortuun pause? Or perhaps a constant barrage of problems and issues just make it a constant problem for tomorrow and tomorrow? ‘Tis hard to tell – but one day soon – soon! – clever Crones will learn the secrets of the twisted green crystals. And by their lurid light and gaudy, green glimmer – by Twisted Green Comprehension new paths and possibilities might open for the Khortuun.
New paths and possibilities are likewise the object of another endeavor the Khortuun wish to embark upon. Namely, new paths and possibilities for the enslaved amongst them. It is known, after all, that slaves and slavery are a persistent part of Khortuun society. To some, this fact is a source of unease and moral squeamishness – to others, it is a strict necessity that some must be made to work for the benefit of others. For truly, if the Crones of Sorrowfree are to realize their ambitions – are to build farms and raise homes, order grand temples and wide canals, someone must actually be made to do the work. And if unfree labor do such work more reliably than free labor – so it goes. To this end, the Crones will ship much iron ore and more to the Sky-Brothers of distant Kachalla. But. The greatest innovation in this regard will not come through the trade for unfree flesh – no. It will come through an ordening and codification that empowers the slaves themselves.
To some, such an ordening and arrangement might seem curious. How can unfree labor be bettered by laws? How can slavery be sweetened by custom and coded poetry? To the Crones, the answer to these concerns go a little like this: That by granting enslaved persons their own neighborhoods, their own homes and their own villages-within-the walls of a greater city, the slaves of the Crones can be made to rule themselves. To bicker and barter amongst their own. To find themselves – however humble – a lot and life to call their own. The Crones of the Grand Temple in Sorrowfree have spoken much and more about the importance of equality and love for ones neighbor. And forcing unfree hands to dwell in miserably is a great injustice against these teachings. Perhaps, then, granting slaves some limited form of self-rule and governance is a way to assuage these guilty feelings? And, if nothing else, stave off future rebellions and festering feeling of ill-will?
Slave revolts are, after all, not something the Crones of Sorrowfree are entirely unfamiliar with. And all the world has heard of the debacle of the Machaka – when the streets of their very city were awash with the blood of thousands, and the throats of many of their grandees were slit in their beds. No. No, such horrors must never be visited upon the Crones or their children. So it is to this end that Sorrowfree and her fellow sister-cities will purchase Sky-Brethren salves – and furnish them with their living-spaces. Their own Tortages where they can speak their own languages, hold their own customs as they wish, and elect their own Tyrants to rule over them. By such generosity, it is hoped, clever Crones can hold enslaved souls in peace. Can perhaps even ensure more labor from them, in time. Can at least assure themselves that they are not the heartless slave-owners and vile monsters their consciences whisper that they are. Yes. By Indentured Labor, this will be assured.
Perhaps.
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, the Khortuun seek to realize an ambition of their own rule and governance. To name this in an exact concept or utterance is difficult – indeed, no true term exists in Khortuun parlance to truly describe this dream. Yet. But it must, none the less, be made so. For generations and generations the Crones of the Khortuun have ruled their homes and cities as a ‘Theocracy’ – as a society where faith and prayer have set the order of the day. This must be established in future, too – but by different ways and in different forms. But how? By what measure and detail shall the tiers of such a faith-based government be known? And how – for all their wealth and finery – shall the Crones actually establish it? Some opine that the establishment of some civic wonder – a Grand Reservoir, or some truly awesome temple complex – be made to ensure this reality. But none can agree – and no one can say for certain – how precisely this will come to pass. But if the Khortuun mean to establish for themselves a truly secure and proper state – one that can stand the test of time and marshal the faith and faithfulness of untold thousands – this must be done. Certain, secure government – and governance – must be established. A tier of Governance nearer to Mother-Moon – a Tier II!
This, then, is what the Crones of the Khortuun dream of. For so it is, and so it goes.
