Dawn - 8 hours until sunset.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Introductions
Another day is ending. You watch the sun march its achingly slow course down into the blindingly blue western sky. All around you is pale gold desert sand.
The pilgrim's road, more of a light patch of finer sand than a road, unfolds endlessly forward. The muscles of your back and legs are stiff and aching from the long days of walking. The heat and dust stick to your skin and the inside of your throat feels like sandpaper. And all day, the air has been restless and moaning, whipping yet more sand into your squinting eyes.
You pass one or two small clusters of pilgrims as you walk, even some small caravans. But for the most part you walk the weary hours alone. It is time to find a place to settle down for the night. As you scan the rolling dunes for any sign of shelter, you see that the way ahead of you is dimming not with dusk, but with huge, roiling clouds of turbulent sand. A storm is coming. And it's coming on fast.
You scramble towards some rockier ground as the air around you begins to prickle and the blows of sand against you become steadily heavier. Several times you are turned around as the air becomes thicker and harder to see into. The sky is blood-red as at last you reach the rocks and you know that if you don't find some shelter quickly it will become impossible to do so in the dark of the night.
Nearly tripping, you find yourself on the lip of a small outcropping. It is of smooth, brown rock and the space beneath it forms a shallow but serviceable cavern below. You thank the gods for your luck as you clamber down to the entrance and out of the wind. However, the cavern is not empty.
Two human-like shapes, huddled against the base of the stone, look up to see who has joined them. It seems you are not the only traveller seeking shelter from the storm. When they are satisfied you are not a bandit, the three of you exchange greetings.
The storm picks up in intensity as the light dims and the night comes on. But there seems to be no immediate danger. A small oil lamp is lit and tales are called for to pass the time. "Who are you, my friend?" you are asked, "and what brings you to travel in these parts?"
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Glass beads and metal wires in the woman's dreadlocked hair catch the light as she volunteers to go first. There are bright strands of yarn woven into the locks. Her skin is deeply tanned, her hair bleached almost white by the sun. Her eyes look black in the lamplight. She introduces herself as Eurynome. (er-IN-oh-ME)
ReplyDelete"I came from the city on the edge of the desert," she explains, waving one hand back toward the entrance of the cave. More glass, metal and colored string decorate her wrist. "I sold headscarves and skirts and leggings, light nets and woven packs, pretty and useful things for desert dwellers." Eurynome pauses. "And one day I came up short at the end of the month. Shorter than usual. I have expensive tastes. Lucky me, one of my customers was the rich daughter of a man who'd made money in ornamental fish. He bred, raised, and fought them against other people with so much money that they could afford to use water for fish they never planned to eat. His daughter was in my place every other week. She liked my wares and she often asked for advice. "You can't tell if a man is good or bad from that," I'd tell her. Or, "Yes, you can take the heart of it out. But you'll have to paint it with the special oil I told you about." And pretty soon I was looking at the web of things again, running backward and forward and sideways: "Seven," I told her. "But only four of them concern you, and three of them used to be dead." Once I had to tell her "I can't help with that. Go to a healer." And she did, and they caught it in time. That was how her father came to know of me. When he came to know I owed money, he said that he'd see that I was taken care of if I helped him in certain business ventures. But I knew that would be dangerous."
"Black market?" one of the others wants to know. "Slave trade?"
Eurynome shakes her head. "Help with raising his fish. Keeping them safe from rivals who would sabotoge them. Seeing which fish would make the best fighters. Finding out who was going to betray him. That kind of thing. It was dangerous because... well, for a couple of reasons... but the one that caught up to me the quickest was that this man was relatively minor in his circles. The others didn't bother him if he did not stir up trouble, but when he started doing too well they figured out why. They told me to get out. So I left the city. Don't think I didn't try to see if they were serious. They were. If I'd even gone back to my home they would have found new and inventive uses for knitting needles, involving shish kebabs and eyeballs. So I thought it was best to get out. They don't care enough to come after me, they just wanted me gone. Ah well. I never did like watching those poor fish fighting."
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ReplyDelete(now that I've managed to spell everything correctly *sigh*)
ReplyDeleteAdib listens intently to Eurynome, the only reaction is a slight nod when she mentions trouble when the father started doing too well and another one when she mentions inventive uses. Without a word he will turn to the third person of the group waiting to see what they say, either in reaction to the story or to tell their own story.
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ReplyDeletePOSTED BY MICHAEL (Soren):
ReplyDeleteIt is just as well, Eurynome, that you had to flee. Because gambling is... and you also would do well to learn this too, young Adib...(Soren bends his head down slightly as if he is teaching eager children)... gambling is a VICE.
(Soren leans back against the rock as if the matter has been dealt with once and for all. His back pack, which is covered by a fine shield, exhales and collapses completely as he leans back)
Ornamental fighting fish indeed! But then again, they do swim in water. Water! I never realized before how fresh and good water is. The state of wetness is a highly desireable thing, is it not?
(Soren ponders).
Do you realize that the ornamental evil gambling fish was completely enveloped in wonderful wet water? Thats a strange truth and an advanced lesson for you to learn, Eurynome, and you too, my quiet friend Adib.
(Soren leans forward again)
The lesson for us: even the worst ornamental fighting fish of gambling sin cannot exist without the all enveloping goodness... of water.
So mark this well: The bad cannot exist on its own, it must always SPONGE off the Good. Yes, its always true whether you are in the sea, in the clouds, or on the dry thirsty land. The root and beginning of all things is Goodness, and Good will always be there. Badness is merely a temporary sponge upon the eternal Good.
Now let us all rest, for we have important things to accomplish after the storm passes. I trust that you both are interested in doing great Good, and that none of you has that lamentable sponge-like quality.
(Soren wearily leans back again with a strange metallic clank and then softly whispers to no-one in particular)
Anyone have some water? I am very thirsty.
Eurynome carefully hands Soren her canteen.
DeleteAdib notes that Soren hasn't actually given any history about himself and grins to himself. He checks his waterskin to find it's about 3/4 full but is beaten by Eurynome to handing it over. He mutters to himself, "what if the bad sponges off the evil and what if the bad is forced to do things?" He doesn't expect an answer.
Delete(Soren takes a few sips, grateful for every drop."
ReplyDeleteMany thanks, friends.