Blood Will Tell [Closed]

[Nalaya]

The Chamber of Xa'los
Beneath the Orthae Qu'ellar
Karsoluthiyl, Nalaya

"Marginalized? You permit them to rule. Look no further than your Emperor, who japes and jibes even as he drags the reputation of his own country through the mud. Culled? You are ruled by sel'tur vlees, corpulent parasites that wriggle and shriek when the world treads upon them as is its right. Fruit is not turned from blossom rotten, whether sour or sweet. It is cultivated to rot, allowed to rot, tolerated to rot. Corruption of the soul abounds and has been allowed to fester unchecked. Why else would your leader pounce upon others to satisfy his own callow whims, then roll over to expose his belly the moment they even snap their teeth? Yours is a poison tree, a sickly and twisted thing uncertain of its roots. Its branches rattle in the unforgiving winds of fate, brittle limbs soon to be broken and weak trunk to be uprooted."

The Quarval-sharess's tone was harsh and perhaps even scathing, but not necessarily any more angry than her usual self. Her crimson eyes were boring into the man standing in front of her. It was not a searching gaze—it was a burning one. If Errando had considered his task an easy one, it had probably become quite evident that it would be anything but. "Honor is duty. Honor is sacrifice. Honor is respect. Honor is z'ress. You are...adequate. You do not know our customs and cannot be expected to know them, but you walk with soft tread. Your Ghanti brothers have not done so. A duel in the house of another without permission, fought before the eyes of the many solely to shame the loser? Breaking an attempt at peace for a war-torn nation? Ruling through proxies and machinating in the shadows? Insulting the Matriarch Empress of Deadora, one who is deserving of respect? Whoring for the promise of power? Being merely born into kingship, unproven and yet allowed to rule? Point to me where there is honor in this. Do more than enumerate your virtues—show them."

Quenthel stood very, very still and quiet. She knew better than to try and intervene now. She was already on very thin, very fragile ice. Besides, it was hard to breathe around the knot of anxiety that had formed in her throat as the Dread Wolf spoke. She couldn't feel her feet at this moment in time, suspended in a limbo of trepidation.

"All I have seen from your people is selfishness," the Quarval-sharess said, gripping the arms of her seat tightly as if digging in her claws to crush struggling prey. There was a definite curl to her lip. "What the Ghanti want, what the Ghanti please, what the Ghanti think they deserve. It does not matter who pays the price. They demand respect, recognition, without offering it in return. How many Ghanti do you think consider Nalayans all to be savage, godless cannibals devoid of culture or intellect? How many of those Ghanti are in positions of authority, your nobles and your ministers and your emperor? You come to this place and you tell me that I should turn my ears to those who are deaf."

The Dread Wolf paused, evaluating the silence and waiting for the rebuttal. She leaned back in her seat with a flexing of iron muscle, settling in to again lounge. She was seeing something contrived, controlled, something artificial. There was no spark. The manners were proper, but the mannerisms? He needed to understand the essence of L'i'dol, to embrace the aspects of the divine.

It was a pity her faith would likely never reach those frozen shores. There was potential there, even if it was enslaved to weak men and a stagnant system.

[Ghant]

The Chamber of Xa'los
Beneath the Orthae Qu'ellar
Karsoluthiyl, Nalaya

Errando responded with a certain sadness in his voice, realizing that much of what she said was true…even though not to the extent that she believed. “Arzhani Quarval-sharess, the Emperor may reign but he does not rule. That honor belongs to his wife, Sophia Dakmaran, who was the 2013 Cornellian Peace Prize winner. She is much more capable and competent, hence why she executes the duties of the Imperial office, while the Emperor…has a misguided and naïve sense of honor and what it entails.” Errando took a deep breath. “Ghant is ruled by an assembly of lords and a democratically elected government which is accountable to the public will. The lords are accountable to each other…the majority are good people, like my father. We do not let fools dictate the agenda.”

He continued. “Allow me to elaborate. The Emperor’s duel at the Star Ball was because the other man, Count Thomas Lalery of New Edom, was behaving rudely and insulting a Princess of that country, and she called out for the Emperor’s help. It was she that suggested the duel to preserve her honor, and the Emperor obliged her. As I understand it, she was a liar and deceived him into it, but alas his intentions were good and only wanted to do the right thing. In any case, the Empress saw to the Emperor’s indiscretion. Then there was Ninu Inogaru at the Callaban Conference…when Zimya’s government was vanquished and Nymun’s government came in, he did not retain any position of influence…precisely because his disrespect would not be tolerated, even though it was out of ignorance of proper honorifics. And the incident involving the Matriarch Empress of Deadora at the Grand Ball…well, that was done by a fourteen year old boy, who promptly got a swift kick in the ass by his older brother. It is not as though these fools of which you speak are not held accountable for their actions by others, Arzhani Quarval-sharess.”

Errando was firm in his next response to her final points. “The ignorant among my people probably think such of Nalaya and its people, which is an unfortunate result of a lack of contact. That is why I am here, and that is why I want to forge relations. Even though your nation is very young and mine is very old, they are both learning how to get along in the world today. I believe that there is much that we can learn from each other, and that maybe we can work together to resolve our differences and understand one another better. I know that our Prime Minister, our Empress, and her father the Lord Paramount would like that, and would be supportive of Nalaya. They would show it and its leaders the respect that it deserves. Yes, people in my country make mistakes, but as we say, it is not so much about the mistakes that are made, but what is learned from them. And we learn that respect is important, for where it is given, it can be received. I think if you give us a chance, you may be pleasantly surprised, Arzhani Quarval-sharess.”

[Nalaya]

The Chamber of Xa'los
Beneath the Orthae Qu'ellar
Karsoluthiyl, Nalaya

"All you have provided me with are excuses," the Dread Wolf said, eyes narrowing with displeasure. She was aware that he had not addressed the root of her question. She did not look particularly pacified by his explanation. The circumstances were not what mattered, only the result. She was not the kind of woman inclined towards being yielding or understanding. It was one of the things that made her so viciously protective of her own faithful, even when such protection was seen as an active assault on everything else. "You tell me of this woman, Sophia Dakmaran, she who rules with a paper prize in one hand and a bawling husband in the other. You tell me about your lords and your elected government. You tell me that your people would respect mine. This is because you have nothing to show. You provide pretty words, but there is no passion and where there is no passion there is only emptiness. Others have come to us with such things, wielding a dagger in their other hand. Respect is not recieved—it is earned."

She gestured to their surroundings, indicating the statues of spirits that held up the ceilings, each one covered in thousands upon thousands of words in Mak'ur script, benedictions and warnings alike. "Is this young? These thousands of years of storied tradition and divine inspiration, since civilization sat in the world that was Ki-en-ĝir, Land of Summer. Those luminous days could not last forever. We entered the darkness many times over from generation to generation. We have had many centuries to interact with the world, to reflect upon it. What you think of when you see Nalaya is merely one manifestation of an existence that has spanned millennia. Our people have been here since the beginning. These thousands of years have taught us well: do not trust empty things."

Quenthel tensed visibly when the Dread Wolf's gaze focused on her. It was only for a moment, but it was still nerve-wracking. What did the woman see? What was there to see, even? Perhaps it was about the vision.

"Your world is empty, Errando Odolaren. Your people, your ways, are so polluted that they have driven away the spirits. Ghant's soul is choked in weeds and given over to decay, its desiccated wood beginning to crack off under its own weight. You bring with you only the chill of the grave and the pestilence that has laid your people low. When the fire has come and burned your people free of their blight, when green growth retakes what is made ashes, when this time is passed, then and only then you may come to me and speak with words that have meaning," the Quarval-sharess said with a certain rigidity, her eyes daring anyone to come and gainsay her. "And that? It is the truth."

[Ghant]

The Chamber of Xa'los
Beneath the Orthae Qu'ellar
Karsoluthiyl, Nalaya

“I say it because it is true, Arzhani Quarval-sharess.” Errando pointed out. “But you are right. In Ghant we say that words are wind…because they are. Actions speak louder than words ever could, I know this to be true. I know that much of what you say is true…for some anyway. For every nation has its share of ignorant people. Since coming here, Arzhani, I have come to admire and respect your nation and its people. And I have come to admire and respect Revered Quenthel as well.”

Errando gathered his thoughts as he looked into the pool. “What I might propose is that you send her to Ghant with me, if only for a time. Let her be within my country, let he see it for what it is. For if what you say is so true, then she shall see it for herself. Perhaps she will see what I see though, and that is a land that is at its heart a place of honor that values hospitality and doing the right thing, even though in a crazy world such as this, that might be hard to discern.”

“So what say you, Arzhani Quarval-sharess? Would you entertain the notion of having a set of eyes and a pair of ears in my own homeland, to learn for oneself the true nature thereof?” Errando asked, politely.

[Nalaya]

The Chamber of Xa'los
Underneath the Orthae Qu'ellar
Karsoluthiyl, Nalaya

"Silence." It was not shouted, but it was undeniably a command directed squarely at Errando, who was continuing to dig himself further into the mud. Did the Ghanti not know when it was time to be still? It was almost awe-inspiring. The Dread Wolf's eyes had narrowed. "If you think I am interested in your qualifications, your 'perhaps' or your 'some', you are sorely mistaken. Even now, you speak with a whipped tongue and squirm as you try to escape responsibility."

The Quarval-sharess turned her basilisk gaze on Quenthel, who felt very much as though her body had turned to stone. Years of conditioning kept her from trembling. That did not, however, leave her feeling prepared to tangle with the Dread Wolf in any sense. It was like playing chicken with a volcanic eruption. "Quenthel, does your vision still linger in the back of your mind? Does it trouble you, that image of your athiyk caged between stones?" Her voice had that honeyed quality to it. "Knowing what you know now, would you let him sway you to a land so far removed from ours? Would you follow one such as this, bereft of z'ress and groping in the ocean of shadow that is existence like a blind man?"

Quenthel hesitated, uncertain of what to say. She liked Errando and respected him, but to leave everything she had ever known.... "It is the blind who require seeing eyes," she said respectfully, keeping her eyes low. Her muscles started to tense as she caught the Dread Wolf's restless movement at the edge of her vision. The powerful spirit bound to that flesh was growing weary of the conversation now that it had said all that it meant to say. It was time to end this audience as swiftly as possible, or at least remove the growing target that was Errando. Spirits bless him, he didn't know when to shut up. She again lowered herself to one knee and hoped beyond hope that they could leave before the Dread Wolf decided to make her own entertainment. "May I take the time to pray for direction, Arzhani?"

She did not know if she would agree to Errando's plan or not. It felt insane. Perhaps she needed to go to free her athiyk. Perhaps if she went, it would become her prison. It was time to ask Sabal and Ildan for advice.

"As much time as it takes a moth to beat its wings," the Quarval-sharess said, rising to her feet. The audience was at an end. "You are released. Take the og'elend back from whence he came. I have no use for blue blood and soft meat."

Quenthel bowed her head and then rose from the ground swiftly. Once Errando had done the same—provided he was intelligent enough to do so quietly—she grabbed him by the arm to practicaly drag him from the room. The only thing in Nalaya more dangerous than a thoughtful tigress was a bored wolf. Lledrith A'Daragon was a capricious creaure and inclined to do others harm for her own amusement. Errando had no protection beyond the Dread Wolf's good graces and those were ephemeral at best.

[Ghant]

The Chamber of Xa'los
Underneath the Orthae Qu'ellar
Karsoluthiyl, Nalaya

“Silence” The Quarval-sharess’s words echoed in Errando’s mind, bouncing back and forth and repeating over and over again.

Errando had no choice but to listen to the Quarval-sharess chide him verbally, lash out at him with her words, sharp and stingy as they were. He had come politely and amicably, and yet he was tasked with answering for a few people, and with defending his country and the way it was. It was an impossible task. How could he accomplish that? It seemed clear that she made up her mind long before he arrived. It didn’t seem like there was anything he could say to convince her otherwise. It was clearly a futile endeavor.

She spat her vitriol at Quenthel, exchanging words with her for a moment, and then it ended with, "You are released. Take the og'elend back from whence he came. I have no use for blue blood and soft meat."

Errando went to one knee and bowed his head, and as he came back to his feet and raised his head, his crimson eyes. met those of the Quarval-sharess. His gaze didn’t linger long, but the half a second that they were upon her eyes seemed like an eternity to him. He turned his head with his body and walked away. The walk away from the Quarval-sharess seemed longer than the walk towards her initially, what seemed like a lifetime ago.

The Crown Prince realized what Quenthel had told him. The woman was dangerous, clearly. Her words were like razors, slashing at his being, leaving it in tatters. He left with more questions than when he came in. Everything he knew or thought he knew about Ghant was suddenly in doubt. But was it worth it? Was it justified? Maybe she is just so jaded by the Norvenians that she is holding that against us…fucking Norvenia.

Once Errando was well enough away from the Quarval-sharess, Quenthel grabbed him by the arm as if to pull him out of the room. He moved along with haste with the yath, trusting her judgment, which seemed to consist of a sense of expediency. Whatever he wanted to say to her, he would wait until Quenthel got him well enough away from there, and somewhere more private.

[Nalaya]

The Orthae Qu'ellar
Karsoluthiyl, Nalaya

Quenthel waited until they were well away, up the steps and back in the main hall, to speak. "That went well," she said without a trace of sarcasm. True, Errando hadn't gotten what he wanted, but everyone was still alive and intact. That could always be counted as a victory where the Dread Wolf was concerned. No matter how bitter and harsh the woman had been, Quenthel knew that the Quarval-sharess had spoken only what she truly thought and felt. Nor was it the opinion of her alone. She spoke for the faith as a whole. Words that the woman had spoken would spread like a wildfire.

She turned to Errando. "I know this was not as you had hoped, but she did not say that there would never be cooperation between our peoples. Only that it cannot be so now," Quenthel said placatingly. Their encounter with the divine had not gone so badly. She was shaken to the core by what the Dread Wolf had warned of, but she knew they were fortunate all the same. Probably because they had escaped before she became bored. "Who knows better than the Quarval-sharess? Her reasons are not for us to know, but they do not come from nothing."

The yathrin would need time to reflect on this turn of events and what she wanted to do next. There was a great risk in going to Ghant, one that Errando would likely not understand. But perhaps there was also something to gain. She knew that if she went and reported back that the Ghanti were changing their ways, the Quaval-sharess would in all likelihood reconsider her decision at least in part. The Dread Wolf was not completely unreasonable, though she was often caught up in her violent passions.

"I had not thought Ghant was in such distress," she admitted, believing absolutely that such a thing was true. "But it does explain the place with no spirits."

[Ghant]

The Orthae Qu'ellar
Karsoluthiyl, Nalaya

Eventually, Quenthel and Errando returned to the main hall by way of those steps leading out of the chamber. He chuckled a bit when Quenthel told him it went well. “Did it though? I am not so sure. Her opinion of Ghant leaves much to be desired. She seems unwilling to change her mind, and it seemed like she had already made it up before I got down there.”

Errando listened and nodded as Quenthel explained her position…quite glad that his audience was over, as he didn’t know how much more he could have suffered of that meeting. “Now seems like the best time, since the Dakmarans have consolidated power amongst the government, Jauneketxea, and the Imperial seat. Nobody knows for certain for how long that will last.” Errando knew that as long as Albert was lurking about, there was always a threat to Dakmaran supremacy in Ghant, and few were as crafty as he was in Ghant.

The last thing she said to him was of considerable interest. "I had not thought Ghant was in such distress…but it does explain the place with no spirits."

“Perhaps it is, although I have never really thought too much about it. I know there are places that the shamans tell people not to go, places that are dangerous, with ancient curses and such. I wouldn’t as you to go back to Ghant with me if you weren’t comfortable with it.” Errando’s hand stroked her long white hair, while another brushed her chin and cheek. “It’s just that I don’t want to lose you and I…want you in my life. I want more time with you, and I cannot linger here for longer than I am welcome. So you can come with me…see Ghant for yourself, learn what it is with your own eyes and senses. And you can be with me in my lands, meet my family and spend time with me. Maybe you will want to be with me too…we can see where it goes, maybe?” Errando finished with a kiss.

Making himself a fool for a woman could mean only one thing…I am falling for her. He only hoped that he wasn’t going to get burned…does she feel the same way?

[Nalaya]

The Orthae Qu'ellar
Karsoluthiyl, Nalaya

"If there is one truth to the world, one law, it is change," Quenthel said, though after giving it a second of thought. "The Quarval-sharess is as mercurial, as capricious, as a summer storm. It is true that she is displeased. It is true that you did not achieve what you desired. But your suggestion leaves the door open for change. We are both alive and unharmed. That is more than many can say of their encounters with the Dread Wolf." She was optimistic in her own way.

When Errando touched her, she felt a little spark as if some pleasant electricity dance outward from his fingertips. But she did not quite succumb to the reassurance and contentment that his touch brought, not when visions of the void danced in te back of her mind to the music of a cold and unfeeling flute. She knew she needed to make a decision and that no amount of reflection would make her path clearer. Yath were supposed to follow their instincts and their passions, weren't they?

He wanted her in his life. That was a very large something to say and Quenthel knew it. She wasn't certain what it meant entirely or what twisting turns it would take her on. She did want to find out, though. "I think I might like that," she said softly, smiling even though she felt anxiety twist in her stomach. She was agreeing to leap into a whole new world with both feet. That would always bring with it some...trepidation. Not fear, but caution of a sort. "Whatever we are, I would like to be."

She cleared her throat and stepped back from him when she heard someone coming down the hall. "It will be an experience," she said in a slightly more neutral tone. Danger, she mouthed at Errando after that before continuing, "Perhaps there is a way to bring the spirits back to the places that are empty."

Ildan rounded the corner, his face a mixture of emotions. "Errando," he greeted with a nod of his head before pulling Quenthel into a hug. "I heard Ryld's version of what happened. You are fortunate." If he suspected there was anything of a moment that had just occurred, he was not saying a word.

"I know," Quenthel said with relief. She was incredibly grateful for it, too. All the manners and hospitality in the world could not save one from the Dread Wolf if her mood turned sour.

Ilda let her go and ran a hand over his shaven head. "So tell me, what is this about you traveling to Ghant? After your vision? It seems...less than wise."

"Am I wise?" Quenthel countered.

He chuckled. "It is youth, I suppose. You should be careful, lest you become rootless forever as the Anur are. I know not what draws them beyond seas and mountains, but it is a powerful wanderlust indeed." He turned on Errando and his face grew more serious. There was a dangerous gleam to his eyes. "You will take care of her should she choose to follow where you walk, Errando." It was not a question.

Quenthel punched him in the upper arm. "I can take care of myself," she said hotly.

"Those who watch their own back meet their death from the front," Ildan reminded her. It was an old proverb. "You will at the very least see him back to Sevan, yes?"

"On the evening train," she confirmed before glancing over at Errando. "It gives me time to gather my things." That was it, then. She really was going to go on this insane adventure.

[Ghant]

The Orthae Qu'ellar
Karsoluthiyl, Nalaya

Errando grinned at Quenthel’s words. “Aye, it could have been worse. Perhaps I would be wise to count my blessings, then.”

He mused some on his situation with Quenthel…apparently, she felt the same way, and he said as much to her with her under his touch. “I am glad you feel the same way, Quenthel. For should I leave you, I would find myself hurting.” It was true though, the more he thought about it. With Vanessa, it was all just sex…but this was different. This was a connection on an emotional level…spiritual perhaps even. It felt so meaningful…not something to discard easily.

Then she stepped back and talked about the spiritless places. “Perhaps there is…but it seems no simple task.”

Ildan appeared from around the corner and shared his thoughts, to which Errando responded politely. “Indeed it would seem so, Most Revered Ildan.” They talked some more, and then it became more clear that Quenthel would be going to Ghant with Errando. Ildan had some words for him, and he responded in turn. “I swear to you that I shall.”

“The evening train to Sevan?” Errando asked. “Will there be time to say goodbye to Honored Ryld?” Errando wasn’t sure when he would be able to return and see some of these people again. His time among the Mak’ur was drawing to a close.

[Nalaya]

The Orthae Qu'ellar
Karsoluthiyl, Nalaya

"You should have time," Ildan said with amusement. He appreciated Errando's thoughtfulness. "He is with some of the novitiates now. Oh, and Quenthel, there is something you should know."

"Yes?" Quenthel asked. She tensed a little as if preparing for a blow. Ildan's tone was more serious now and she sensed that it wouldn't be good news, not with the way he was looking at her with concerned eyes.

<<This is not something Errando needs to hear,>> Ildan said gently and carefully, as if he was afraid of either spooking or angering his former pupil.

<<Let it be said plainly.>>

Ildan inclined his head. <<As you wish.>> He cleared his throat and switched languages. "The Ilharess Nasadra approached Sabal and I, encouraging us to put an end to your venture with Errando. I cannot speak for Sabal, but I did not convey her opinion to the Quarval-sharess. The Dread Wolf's opinion was not influenced despite her effort."

"That backbiting—" Quenthel started hotly.

"Quenthel," Ildan cut her off in sharp rebuke. "She did it to protect you. She was worried it was getting out of hand."

The yathrin narrowed her eyes. "I doubt it was me that she was particularly concerned about," she snapped. "She has no use for anything that might tarnish her precious reputation. I am not her daughter anymore! Can she not learn to mind her own business?"

Ildan shrugged a little bit. "One of the great mysteries of life. I wouldn't hold it against her if I were you," he said. "You should collect your things and say your goodbyes, Quenthel. If you are going to Ghant, you may not have a chance to say this again. It is a very long way away and it is fraught with danger if your vision is any indication."

Ryld arrived at that point, enveloping Quethel in a bear hug that was almost a tackle. "We're going to miss you, lotha uss," he said as he held her tightly. "We will pray for you. Be safe and strong and all those other things." He released her and turned to Errando. "It is good to see you again, Errando."

[Ghant]

The Orthae Qu'ellar
Karsoluthiyl, Nalaya

Errando enjoyed Ildan's presence, and his words seemed to possess some degree of appreciation. How refreshing. Especially considering the tongue lashing he got from the Quaval-sharess.

Ildan and Quenthel spoke for a bit in their native tongue, and then switched back to Latin. Apparently, Quenthel's mother, who once said she would assist Errando, later sought to discourage Quenthel. The Crown Prince of Odolargia was hardly surprised, as Nasandra seemed a treacherous sort. At least the Quarval-sharess's opinion was not colored by Nasandra's machinations...not that she needed much convincing.

Ryld entered the room and embraced Quenthel, wishing her well, and then he turned to address Errando, who smiled back. "It is good to see you again as well, honored Ryld. I was hoping to see you again before I left. It saddens me to part from your company, as I have grown rather fond of your kindness, as well as that of Most Revered Ildan. I mean to thank you both for your hospitality, and for giving me a chance. I wish I could repay you...or see you again once I depart."

For the first time during his journey, Errando was truly sad. He learned to see past guises of desecrated flesh to see people of great wisdom and character. Come to rely upon them in fact. And it seemed as though they were going away now from his life, much like some great sandcastle by the sea, built by day and washing away with the coming of the tide. Yet, life was full of its nuanced surprises, and Errando could maybe hope that one day, their paths may cross yet again.

For all Errando Odolaren knew, that day may come sooner than he might have anticipated. In any case, he had a new task at hand. Quenthel had decided to come with him to Ghant, and it would be up to him to keep her safe and show her the way. It might not be an easy thing to do, but then again...nothing worth doing was.

[Nalaya]

Departure
In Transit, Nalaya

To leave everything one has ever known is no simple thing. Quenthel found herself saying countless goodbyes. There were tears and embraces that suddenly didn't feel like they lasted long enough. These were her brothers and sisters, closer to her than her own flesh and blood had ever been. She would not have the opportunity to travel to Dyvynasshar to bid farewell to that holiest of places that had been the center of her world, to walk the ancient stones worn smooth by weather and wear, to touch the faces even dearer to her than these. Letters would be insufficient to express her sorrow at parting, though she took the time until evening to write them anyway. She left them with Ildan, secure in the knowledge that they would reach their intended.

With the trepidation of the unknown opening up before her in a yawning void beneath the precipice of change there also came a sort of exhilaration. She would be stepping into the danger and wonder of a whole new world. The fire of faith that burned inside her would have to be enough to carry her through the cold and unfeeling expanse of Outside that stretched before her.

It was Sorn's gift that was dearest. The man she had quarreled with so viciously, still bruised and beaten, approached her just as she was about to leave. <<This is for you, sister,>> he said with gentleness to his tone, offering her a small piece of tan stone to be worn as a choker instead of the piece of obsidian she now wore. <<It is from the first step of the Fane. A piece of us, wherever you may go.>>

She took it with soft hands and let him enfold her in his arms. The tears started to flow, here in private where Errando could not see. She felt as though she was losing a limb and here Sorn had given her a lifeline to cling to when the world around her was as dark as only winter nights in the north could be. He rocked her gently, ignoring the pains in his ribs ignited by the gesture. <<I love you all,>> she whispered brokenly.

<<We know,>> he said, stroking her hair gently. <<You will make us proud, as you always have.>>

To leave the home of the Yath was the hardest farewell she had ever endured, more difficult even than burning her childhood to ashes to become detholusin.

All of her worldly possessions fit into one bag that bumped against her side as she and Errando made their way through the station in Karsoluthiyl. Time passed too quickly as she looked out over the familiar landscape. She did not know what would happen when she reached Ghant, but her soul would always remain here in Nalaya. Homeland for her people almost meant more than anything else in the world. This place, no matter how desolate it might seem to an outsider, was worth more than wealth or power. It was belonging, safety, comfort, love, no matter how chaotic and dangerous it had been and still was in many ways.

Sevan too was a blur even as she walked its garden streets again. They were down below the city proper, but even here there was green growth aplenty, fed by canals from the lake. She was as quiet as a specter moving through the long grass even as security checked their passports and bags. They made no move to relieve her of her weapons since they had been stored in her bag rather than secreted about her person. The small bundle of knives would be another connection to her past and the world she had lived in.

She fingered the stone she wore and thought of Dyvynasshar with a wordless prayer. Emotion was the purest form of expression, the mark of divinity imprinted upon humankind according to the teachings of L'i'dol. If she could cling to that connection, she could survive anything. She just had to promise herself that she would never allow the world of the Ghanti to strip it from her. She had to take this on faith. But she was Yath. Faith was the core of her being. She could do this. She only had to believe.

Finally, as they approached the boarding for the flight, she said her first words since they had departed Karsoluthiyl. "Let us begin," Yath Quenthel T'sarran dal Sabrae said, readying herself for the future and whatever it would bring.

End.