Searing 45, 122
It wasn’t really a great time for a ceremony, the man at the top of Drathera had stressed.
The height of Searing was always busy, of course, the hustle and bustle of life heightened by people–individuals and couples and throuples all–seeking a “beautiful” day on which to inaugurate some special event. Temples were busy with ceremonies, priests were booked from one end of the city to the other… just a busy season in general.
This particular month was all the worse for events, however, given that Drathera had just experienced a calamitous attack the likes of which had not been seen for decades, maybe even since the Commonwealth had driven the Imperium from its shores. There was still a lot of work to be done in clean-up and repairs, in seeing the dead safely on, in consulting with the stars and in convening councils to decide: what happens next?
From Imogen Ward’s point of view, the whole city of Drathera was architecturally strange. The city was old compared to the High City or Kalzasi; she suspected even Sangen, which she’d glimpsed only briefly, was young compared to the ancient metropolis. Wood and carved stone dominated, buildings which must have taken years to hew from the living rock rather than the gothic facades of the wealthy of Karnor or the hasty masonry housing the lower classes.
The Senate building was the best example, a soaring structure of carefully-worked marble, white and blue giving way to dark greens, hues she hadn’t even been aware that marble could achieve. It was a fairly grand reward for those who finished the ascent at Jarkor’s Tail, and she felt just a touch self-conscious standing in its grand hall and talking to the administrators. There was something… cozier about the cramped and overly-furnished spaces of Zaichaer’s public halls, even if she’d avoided open attendance in those for obvious reasons.
”Oh, that’s alright.” Imogen Ward had assured the clerk, her sunny disposition never faltering, ”I don’t need, you know, a whole event. Whatever’s fastest would be great, actually.”
Not a conventional answer, but also not totally unknown. It didn’t take Imogen long to satisfy the clerk by explaining that she had returned to visit the lands of her ancestors and been persuaded by the chief of the village to return, spend more time, kill a god-monster-
”Well, that’s more of a long-term thing.” she assured the skeptical Orkhan man, ”It’s a beautiful land, you know. Home to many magnificent creatures, which I would love to know better.”
“You don’t need to convince me to move here.” the clerk reminded her.
”...oh. Yes. That’s true.”
Imogen wasn’t really doing this to move to Ecith, or at least, she didn’t think she was. She’d have been hard-pressed to explain the decision except to say that she’d spent her entire life in Zaichaer in service to the Sunsingers, or in service to her family’s service, which was the same thing. It was a cause worthy of devotion as she reckoned things, but to live life defined in opposition to the land in which you dwelt was… somewhat exhausting. The time she’d spent in Gihah K'uvfoi'uv Fi'uv hadn’t been perfect, but it has been overwhelmingly positive.
Well, hell, maybe she would want to live there someday. She didn’t think she could convince Carina to move, but Imogen firmly believed that the point of dreams was inspiration. If you let your desires be bounded by the merely likely you would inevitably end up with less than you could actually have gotten.
From an administrative standpoint, there weren’t a lot of questions to be asked. Imogen was an orkhan of Ecithian stock, if a few generations removed, and this was more than the Commonwealth required of would-be citizens in any event. There were really only two formalities, one of real interest to Imogen and one which seemed like a kind of pointless ceremony.
Still, she’d been interviewed before, for debriefings and the like. How involved could it possibly be?
The Sunsinger sat in the Temple Unseeing and cursed herself for forgetting that, in Ecith, a discussion could last for days before anyone started to give up.
Galetira’s temple was also constructed of marble, but the annex she’d been shown to was much less grandiose than the Senate halls. It featured couches and tables, and cushioned divans and curtains and teakwood dividers, giving it the almost-comfortably-cramped impression she’d yearned for earlier.
(Did they somehow know about that? This was why Imogen hated seers.)
There were only two other Orkhan in the room, a man and a woman. The man was one of the more heavily-dressed Dratherans she’d seen on her journey, wearing a full robe and sandals, and prominently bedecked with a small galaxy of identically-sized moonstones. He wore a strange, thin scarf about his neck, which Imogen kept sneaking glances at until he finally volunteered that it was a blindfold.
“My skin chafes if I wear it all the time.” the man explained, “But I don’t like to take it off. So… as you see. I am Eiavonar'uv, a disciple of the paths of this temple. I will ask you some questions about the Tenants, about the land and the people. These are not tests; do not tell me what you think I want to hear. Speak plainly and let the land see you.”
”It’s not a test?” Imogen asked, confused, ”Do you mean to say that an applicant passes no matter what they say?”
Eiavonar'uv smiled softly. “I didn’t say that. There is no one path for all people, but that is not quite the same as saying that every path should be walked.”
The female ork sighed, sitting down while the others yet stood. Eiavonar'uv nodded, and gestured to her. “This is Car’euv, an Arbiter. She may also ask questions, from time to time.”
Imogen wasn’t as well-versed in the lore of Ecith as a native, but it wasn’t hard to recognize one of Raxen’s faithful. The woman bore no weapons, but the Cardinal Runes inscribed on her body told Imogen immediately that she was armed. For that matter, Imogen’s outfit revealed most of the entwined runes of Reaving and Animus on her chest; thankfully, her hosts seemed unthreatened by their presence.
There was a momentary silence before it struck Imogen that introductions were not yet complete. ”I am Imogen Ward, from the northern lands of Karnor, and a Corporal in the order of the Sunsingers.”
That was a very open introduction, albeit one which opened itself to more questions. Still, Eiavonar'uvmerely nodded and gestured to a chair. Imogen sat.
~ The Land ~
“Let us speak of the Tenants, of the Land, and of yourself.” Eiavonar'uv spoke in a tone which left no question that he’d done this many, many times. “Will you be steward of the land?”
”Er- yes?” Imogen responded, a little unsure of what the man wanted her to say.
(Wait, no, he’d specifically requested she not try to guess that.)
When the silence continued, Imogen forced herself to go on. ”I have traveled the land of Ecith and been enriched in body, mind, and soul, and when the village of Gihah K'uvfoi'uv Fi'uv were assailed, I broke the spirit of water free of a curse.”
Eiavonar'uv considered that answer, but said nothing to indicate that he was either particularly happy or displeased by it. “And will you deny any access to the land?”
Imogen was tempted to simply say “no” and leave it there, but a thought struck her. She answered instead: ”None… who will do it no harm?”
The Arbiter spoke, for the first time, her voice surprisingly light and inquiring. “And who will judge that? You?”
It was the sort of challenge which made you want to immediately reconsider your answer–obviously it must have been wrong, to provoke such a reply–but Imogen was determined not to answer anything lightly. ”I suppose I have to be the person ultimately responsible for my decisions, yes.”
The Seer spoke up again. “And the past? How will you learn from it?”
”I guess I’ll start by asking people questions about it.”
It was almost a joke, but neither of them laughed, nor did the Arbiter challenge her answer. Maybe, when you came down to it, that was really all learning was.
Eiavonar'uv asked: “How will you deal with the enemies of Ecith?”
”Depends on the enemy, doesn’t it?” Before the Seer could treat her to another pregnant pause, Imogen added: “Some enemies you have to defeat by killing, but most of them you can just live through. Whole spectrum, sort of thing.”
“And the war?” the Arbiter challenged her.
“Well… I wasn’t really planning to serve in the army, if that’s what you’re asking, but I’ve got no end of ways to help against the Imperium, I guess, if there’s ever a new war on.”
The Arbiter didn’t seem entirely happy with that answer, but Imogen wasn’t sure her role in the ceremony was to be happy. In any event, the Seer continued: “Will you grow strong, for yourself and the people?”
“I’m pretty strong, but I won’t neglect my training, if that’s what you mean.”
Car’euv scrutinized the Sunsinger, but it was no lie. A shallow understanding of strength, to be sure, but Imogen’s skills as a warrior were fairly exceptional. There was little to say.
“And honor?” Inquired Eiavonar'uv.
“I’ll die before I break a vow.” said the girl, easily, “So I don’t plan to make many. But I treat everyone with respect until they prove to be rotten.”
And that was true.
Eiavonar'uv asked: “You bear the Rune of Reaving, which was brought to these shores long ago by the Dawnmartyr knights, so you have trained with a weapon. How good are you?”
“I’m pretty good.” Imogen replied, thinking about the answer. That was true, but it wasn’t enough. “But I’m only pretty good. I’m an expert with the zweihander and longspear, but I’d like to learn a smaller weapon, and something with more range, and I’m working on the shield but that’s a bit slower because it’s hard to train without being under attack, and-”
“I think that answers that.” Eiavonar'uv said, unperturbed. Enthusiasm for weapons was not exactly unknown among Ecithian youth; they worshiped the god of Swords, after all. “Next, what do you fear, and what will you do about it?”
The Sunsinger paused. Her knee-jerk reaction was to say something simple, and true- she was a bit jumpy about ghosts, for example? But a major part of her trip through Ecith had been exactly about her deeper fears, and it felt more honest to speak to that.
“I have a friend-”
The Arbiter’s head jerked up at that, and Imogen hastily amended her statement.
“I love someone back in Zaichaer, and I’m afraid she won’t love me back.” The Orkhan girl remembered the whispers of the Liar-beast in the forest; Carina had featured there, to be sure, but that wasn’t all. “I’m afraid of making mistakes which are beyond my power to correct. And I’m afraid of-”
(Imogen remembered the eye of fire opening in front of her, the mountain shifting, the focus of a god bearing down on her recognition.)
“I’m afraid that for all the skills I’ve earned, the world can still put me into situations where there’s nothing I can do.”
“And what will you do about that?” Car’euv demanded, intent.
“For the first, I don’t yet know.” Imogen admitted. “For the last, I intend to slay a Primal.”
There was silence in the room, but the Arbiter did not challenge that further. A goal was not a lie, and the slaying of a Primal was a sacred affair in Ecith. The fact that it probably wouldn’t happen was no cause to interject.
“Then, what of truth?” the Seer asked, “Will you live and speak yours, or will you hide it?”
It wasn’t exactly a fair question, and Imogen had spent most of her life in an organization dedicated to hiding itself from society at large. But it hadn’t done so dishonestly, and that wasn’t the kind of truth which Imogen thought Eiavonar'uv was talking about anyway.
“I will… uh… live truthfully and freely… except inasmuch as I do need to lie to police, and civil authorities, and the military..”
“Eh?”
“I do also tell people, uh, long-form jokes sometimes. That’s a species of lie, but you know, only for comedic effect.”
Car’euv raised a hand to her head and massaged her temple. “Not this again.”
“Honestly? The ship ride from Sangen was my first ocean travel, and it was great. I’d love to try to sail more, though it doesn’t seem likely that I’ll get to go on any extended ocean voyages in the immediate future. Oh, and I’d like to travel to that, you know, pirate free city? That sounds like fun..”
“We must talk next of love” said the Seer, “though it pains you to do so.”
“It’s fine.” Imogen said firmly. It didn’t really matter what she said here, after all. The books in Ecith could say she pined, if they liked. “I’ve spent several years watching a friend, but I have not had the courage to say anything.”
“Really? And why not?”
“Things are different in Zaichaer. Love is scrutinized and judged. It is a catalyst for pain and doubt and violence.”
“A lie.” The Arbiter seemed almost surprised- perhaps surprised that Imogen had gone so long without telling a lie, or perhaps that such a strange and vulnerable confession was false.
“A-a… lie? I assure you, it isn’t-”
Car’euv quieted the indignant witch. “What you say about Zaichaer may be true. I have heard that it is a barbarous and wretched place in many ways, a close cousin to our enemies themselves. But that is not why you have not made yourself plain to your friend.”
Imogen was quiet after that, and the Seer nodded sympathetically.
“The ways of this other land are strange, but you are here to adopt our ways. I would advise you to reflect long as to why you have repressed this love, and of what precisely you have forged the chains of the repression.”
“That, by the way, is what Truth means.” said Car’euv. Imogen would have expected the disciple of Raxen to sound smug about this, but she did not, and that was almost more infuriating. “Write that on your soul. It will come up again, for good or for ill.”
There was more silence, but it seemed that Eiavonar'uv was satisfied with what he had elicited from Imogen on the topic of love. Instead, he asked:
“What passions do you live with, and how do they drive you?”
“I guess-” the Sunsinger responded, having regained some of her composure, ”Well, I suppose I would say that I am dedicated to the cause of my coven, for which my family first crossed the sea.”
“Yes, the Sunsingers.” Car’euv said, suddenly intent, “What is your order’s cause, precisely?”
“The people of Zaichaer suffer under the auspices of their government, and we work to keep them safe and free.”
“Altruistic, but why does this make you passionate?”
“The covens of Zaichaer… are a fragile thing, but they are valuable. They are the keepers of the spirit of the people of the north, even though few understand. Something unique and precious would be lost if they were wiped away.”
“I see. By chance, do you know if-”
“If we were in any way related to the Dawnmartyrs? Well, it seems like it would be quite a coincidence if we were wholly unrelated, but I don’t know what the connection is, and that’s the whole truth.”
“Not even a little more?”
“Listen, I’m not… a very curious person.”
Hard to argue with that. “As it is, then. Now, on to desire, do-”
“Yes, yes, okay, I’m not getting enough sex and there are at least three people I would like to fuck, and I’m probably only going to get with one of them because folks in the North like to be more exclusive than here. Happy?”
“I think we’ve covered Love enough for you,” said Car’euv, “All Eiavonar'uv was going to ask was whether you would pursue your desires in a healthy way.”
“Ah, fuck.”
“Precisely.” said the Seer, sympathetically.
“Music is precious to our people,” the Seer said, “how do you see it?”
“Well- if you ask me, one of the really high points of Zaichaer is their opera. Musical theater, you know, it’s got all the best qualities of entertainment and history. Really connects to people, gives them stories they wouldn’t normally hear in a way they won’t ever forget. Now, I’m an indifferent singer myself, but I have a lot of respect for the greats.”
“Fairly answered,” granted Eiavonar'uv, which was a hell of a relief after the last set of questions. “Now lust–no, don’t groan, I’m going somewhere different with this–will you support others in their freedom to love, and never force your own understandings on them? I don’t merely mean in your own relationships, but these Zaichaeri attitudes towards sex; will you carry them here with you?”
“Naturally not,” Imogen replied, still scowling, “I’ve told you, my project is to protect what is precious in Zaichaer from the threat of what would trammel it. I suppose that must include… well, judgy sexual attitudes.”
“Then finally… have you thought about helping the Librarians get copies of some of these operas you love?”
“I- huh?” Expecting yet another question about her personal life, this apparent ad for the Ecithian Archives caught the Ork off-guard.
“I haven’t looked into it closely, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the dragons are lacking many of Karnor’s plays. Since, as you say, they are treasures, you might find it worthwhile to preserve them? Just something to think about.”
“Tell me of wisdom,” said Eiavonar'uv, “How do you seek it?”
“In the past,” Imogen responded, slowly, “I was concerned only with magic. First the magic of Reaving, and the secret fire of the coven. But through that pursuit, I learned the ways of battle, of weapons, and through weapons I learned about their wielders, and ultimately about myself. When I came to Ecith, I sought Animus as a tool, and learned about lemurs, and then cats, and swimming things, and then the forest, and then my place in it. It seems to me that every new thing you learn about the world is ultimately a reflection of yourself, and when you know more about yourself, you know more about the world.”
The two disciples of the Ecithian pantheon stared at Imogen for a moment.
“…a little self-centered, but not a bad answer.” Car’euv ventured.
“Fairly said,” the Seer admitted, “Unity. Will you seek to divide Ecith and her people?”
“Uh… no?”
“Some virtues really are that easy,” Eiavonar'uv confided, “Just keep them in mind. The desire to separate, to segregate and dominate can sneak up on you.”
“I haven’t got any of that now, though.”
“Now, you are young, you yet place your faith in your elders and are content to concern yourself with your own life. If you are lucky, there will come a time when you must make choices for others, and concern yourself with many. When that time comes, look at the marking of sky on your skin and remember this time.”
Imogen had no clever rejoinder to that, so the Seer moved on. “And the future. You have spoken much of your concern for the past and present, but what of the world to come? What designs do you have upon it?”
“In short, it is much the same.” Imogen said, “I will protect people and their freedom, and trust that in doing so, we will have a slightly better world than if I had not.”
Eiavonar'uv seemed content with this, but the Arbiter spoke up once more. “I wonder about this. You have said that you are a corporal in the Sunsingers, but your runes bespeak obvious mastery. Your respect for your commanders is palpable; an admirable quality, but dangerous without moderation. Tell me: have you been dodging responsibility because you fear it, and prefer to be told what to do?”
“Well… a bit.” Imogen confessed, “But mostly I wanted to watch girls dance instead of doing paperwork.”
Car’euv’s head was in her hands again, but there was really only so much room for correction in one ceremony.
“Of fire…” Eiavonar'uv trailed off, looking at the stylized flame nestled in the Rune of Reaving on Imogen’s breast, “You do not strike me as a woman who lacks fire. I will simply remind you again; fire is needed to accomplish anything in this world, but it is dangerous. Keep your spark alight, but never let it consume you- and remember not to smother others in their own pursuits.”
Imogen accepted this with a silent nod, and the Seer moved on. “Industry… is a dangerous word to the Zaichaeri. The people of Karnor have built many intricate and excellent machines, but-”
“I have seen the mines, and the forges, and the burned and battered workers coming from them to drink their sorrows away at the Gnob each day.” said Imogen. “I have even seen the edges of the blasted wastes of the Clockwork Empire.”
The Seer smiled. “Then on to a lighter matter. You are a warrior, but war is only ever a facet of life, never so grand and important as to rule the whole. What do you do with your time?”
“I’m a janitor.” Imogen replied, “Pretty good at it, too. But someday, when I’m done with Zaichaer… I’ve been learning about beekeeping.”
Car’euv nodded gravely. That was a very serious duty indeed.
“We will honor the Seer with three questions about your future, Imogen. First- will you exclude any from Ecith? Think carefully, for there may be good reasons you would wish to do so.”
“Maybe, but I wouldn’t have the right.”
“Even if they posed a grave danger to you? Or those you love?”
“If someone comes at me with a sword, I’ll knock them on their ass.” Imogen responded, “And if they keep coming, I might have to kill them. But if we’re talking less than that, no.”
“The written word-”
“For the love of- okay, I will get the dragons some musical theater, alright?”
Eiavonar'uv shrugged. That wasn’t exactly where he’d been going with this whole thing but–you know?--it worked. “And the future. Will you watch for signs of what is to come, ponder and reflect thereon?”
“Oh, yeah, I’ve always been pretty good at noticing omens and so on.”
Car’euv jolted up, as though she’d been slapped. There was a great pause, and the Arbiter felt like the mountain should have trembled beneath the sheer magnitude of the falsity of Imogen’s statement.
The Seer breathed out slowly, wondering if he should say something. Imogen Ward might have been the single least gifted seer he’d ever met… but this wasn’t a test to enter Galetira’s temple. Well, maybe a little encouragement on the subject of self-improvement?
“Before you leave the mountain-” Eiavonar'uv said at last, “Let’s talk a little bit about prediction, and how it is done. Even you might find it helpful.”
“Absolutely, sure thing.” She had not even noticed the strange tone in his voice.
“Then the interview is done. The design, I now see. Come to the table, and I will share it with you.”
It wasn’t really a great time for a ceremony, the man at the top of Drathera had stressed.
The height of Searing was always busy, of course, the hustle and bustle of life heightened by people–individuals and couples and throuples all–seeking a “beautiful” day on which to inaugurate some special event. Temples were busy with ceremonies, priests were booked from one end of the city to the other… just a busy season in general.
This particular month was all the worse for events, however, given that Drathera had just experienced a calamitous attack the likes of which had not been seen for decades, maybe even since the Commonwealth had driven the Imperium from its shores. There was still a lot of work to be done in clean-up and repairs, in seeing the dead safely on, in consulting with the stars and in convening councils to decide: what happens next?
From Imogen Ward’s point of view, the whole city of Drathera was architecturally strange. The city was old compared to the High City or Kalzasi; she suspected even Sangen, which she’d glimpsed only briefly, was young compared to the ancient metropolis. Wood and carved stone dominated, buildings which must have taken years to hew from the living rock rather than the gothic facades of the wealthy of Karnor or the hasty masonry housing the lower classes.
The Senate building was the best example, a soaring structure of carefully-worked marble, white and blue giving way to dark greens, hues she hadn’t even been aware that marble could achieve. It was a fairly grand reward for those who finished the ascent at Jarkor’s Tail, and she felt just a touch self-conscious standing in its grand hall and talking to the administrators. There was something… cozier about the cramped and overly-furnished spaces of Zaichaer’s public halls, even if she’d avoided open attendance in those for obvious reasons.
”Oh, that’s alright.” Imogen Ward had assured the clerk, her sunny disposition never faltering, ”I don’t need, you know, a whole event. Whatever’s fastest would be great, actually.”
Not a conventional answer, but also not totally unknown. It didn’t take Imogen long to satisfy the clerk by explaining that she had returned to visit the lands of her ancestors and been persuaded by the chief of the village to return, spend more time, kill a god-monster-
”Well, that’s more of a long-term thing.” she assured the skeptical Orkhan man, ”It’s a beautiful land, you know. Home to many magnificent creatures, which I would love to know better.”
“You don’t need to convince me to move here.” the clerk reminded her.
”...oh. Yes. That’s true.”
Imogen wasn’t really doing this to move to Ecith, or at least, she didn’t think she was. She’d have been hard-pressed to explain the decision except to say that she’d spent her entire life in Zaichaer in service to the Sunsingers, or in service to her family’s service, which was the same thing. It was a cause worthy of devotion as she reckoned things, but to live life defined in opposition to the land in which you dwelt was… somewhat exhausting. The time she’d spent in Gihah K'uvfoi'uv Fi'uv hadn’t been perfect, but it has been overwhelmingly positive.
Well, hell, maybe she would want to live there someday. She didn’t think she could convince Carina to move, but Imogen firmly believed that the point of dreams was inspiration. If you let your desires be bounded by the merely likely you would inevitably end up with less than you could actually have gotten.
From an administrative standpoint, there weren’t a lot of questions to be asked. Imogen was an orkhan of Ecithian stock, if a few generations removed, and this was more than the Commonwealth required of would-be citizens in any event. There were really only two formalities, one of real interest to Imogen and one which seemed like a kind of pointless ceremony.
Still, she’d been interviewed before, for debriefings and the like. How involved could it possibly be?
~~~
The Sunsinger sat in the Temple Unseeing and cursed herself for forgetting that, in Ecith, a discussion could last for days before anyone started to give up.
Galetira’s temple was also constructed of marble, but the annex she’d been shown to was much less grandiose than the Senate halls. It featured couches and tables, and cushioned divans and curtains and teakwood dividers, giving it the almost-comfortably-cramped impression she’d yearned for earlier.
(Did they somehow know about that? This was why Imogen hated seers.)
There were only two other Orkhan in the room, a man and a woman. The man was one of the more heavily-dressed Dratherans she’d seen on her journey, wearing a full robe and sandals, and prominently bedecked with a small galaxy of identically-sized moonstones. He wore a strange, thin scarf about his neck, which Imogen kept sneaking glances at until he finally volunteered that it was a blindfold.
“My skin chafes if I wear it all the time.” the man explained, “But I don’t like to take it off. So… as you see. I am Eiavonar'uv, a disciple of the paths of this temple. I will ask you some questions about the Tenants, about the land and the people. These are not tests; do not tell me what you think I want to hear. Speak plainly and let the land see you.”
”It’s not a test?” Imogen asked, confused, ”Do you mean to say that an applicant passes no matter what they say?”
Eiavonar'uv smiled softly. “I didn’t say that. There is no one path for all people, but that is not quite the same as saying that every path should be walked.”
The female ork sighed, sitting down while the others yet stood. Eiavonar'uv nodded, and gestured to her. “This is Car’euv, an Arbiter. She may also ask questions, from time to time.”
Imogen wasn’t as well-versed in the lore of Ecith as a native, but it wasn’t hard to recognize one of Raxen’s faithful. The woman bore no weapons, but the Cardinal Runes inscribed on her body told Imogen immediately that she was armed. For that matter, Imogen’s outfit revealed most of the entwined runes of Reaving and Animus on her chest; thankfully, her hosts seemed unthreatened by their presence.
There was a momentary silence before it struck Imogen that introductions were not yet complete. ”I am Imogen Ward, from the northern lands of Karnor, and a Corporal in the order of the Sunsingers.”
That was a very open introduction, albeit one which opened itself to more questions. Still, Eiavonar'uvmerely nodded and gestured to a chair. Imogen sat.
~ The Land ~
“Let us speak of the Tenants, of the Land, and of yourself.” Eiavonar'uv spoke in a tone which left no question that he’d done this many, many times. “Will you be steward of the land?”
”Er- yes?” Imogen responded, a little unsure of what the man wanted her to say.
(Wait, no, he’d specifically requested she not try to guess that.)
When the silence continued, Imogen forced herself to go on. ”I have traveled the land of Ecith and been enriched in body, mind, and soul, and when the village of Gihah K'uvfoi'uv Fi'uv were assailed, I broke the spirit of water free of a curse.”
Eiavonar'uv considered that answer, but said nothing to indicate that he was either particularly happy or displeased by it. “And will you deny any access to the land?”
Imogen was tempted to simply say “no” and leave it there, but a thought struck her. She answered instead: ”None… who will do it no harm?”
The Arbiter spoke, for the first time, her voice surprisingly light and inquiring. “And who will judge that? You?”
It was the sort of challenge which made you want to immediately reconsider your answer–obviously it must have been wrong, to provoke such a reply–but Imogen was determined not to answer anything lightly. ”I suppose I have to be the person ultimately responsible for my decisions, yes.”
The Seer spoke up again. “And the past? How will you learn from it?”
”I guess I’ll start by asking people questions about it.”
It was almost a joke, but neither of them laughed, nor did the Arbiter challenge her answer. Maybe, when you came down to it, that was really all learning was.
~ Skar ~
Eiavonar'uv asked: “How will you deal with the enemies of Ecith?”
”Depends on the enemy, doesn’t it?” Before the Seer could treat her to another pregnant pause, Imogen added: “Some enemies you have to defeat by killing, but most of them you can just live through. Whole spectrum, sort of thing.”
“And the war?” the Arbiter challenged her.
“Well… I wasn’t really planning to serve in the army, if that’s what you’re asking, but I’ve got no end of ways to help against the Imperium, I guess, if there’s ever a new war on.”
The Arbiter didn’t seem entirely happy with that answer, but Imogen wasn’t sure her role in the ceremony was to be happy. In any event, the Seer continued: “Will you grow strong, for yourself and the people?”
“I’m pretty strong, but I won’t neglect my training, if that’s what you mean.”
Car’euv scrutinized the Sunsinger, but it was no lie. A shallow understanding of strength, to be sure, but Imogen’s skills as a warrior were fairly exceptional. There was little to say.
“And honor?” Inquired Eiavonar'uv.
“I’ll die before I break a vow.” said the girl, easily, “So I don’t plan to make many. But I treat everyone with respect until they prove to be rotten.”
And that was true.
~ Raxen ~
Eiavonar'uv asked: “You bear the Rune of Reaving, which was brought to these shores long ago by the Dawnmartyr knights, so you have trained with a weapon. How good are you?”
“I’m pretty good.” Imogen replied, thinking about the answer. That was true, but it wasn’t enough. “But I’m only pretty good. I’m an expert with the zweihander and longspear, but I’d like to learn a smaller weapon, and something with more range, and I’m working on the shield but that’s a bit slower because it’s hard to train without being under attack, and-”
“I think that answers that.” Eiavonar'uv said, unperturbed. Enthusiasm for weapons was not exactly unknown among Ecithian youth; they worshiped the god of Swords, after all. “Next, what do you fear, and what will you do about it?”
The Sunsinger paused. Her knee-jerk reaction was to say something simple, and true- she was a bit jumpy about ghosts, for example? But a major part of her trip through Ecith had been exactly about her deeper fears, and it felt more honest to speak to that.
“I have a friend-”
The Arbiter’s head jerked up at that, and Imogen hastily amended her statement.
“I love someone back in Zaichaer, and I’m afraid she won’t love me back.” The Orkhan girl remembered the whispers of the Liar-beast in the forest; Carina had featured there, to be sure, but that wasn’t all. “I’m afraid of making mistakes which are beyond my power to correct. And I’m afraid of-”
(Imogen remembered the eye of fire opening in front of her, the mountain shifting, the focus of a god bearing down on her recognition.)
“I’m afraid that for all the skills I’ve earned, the world can still put me into situations where there’s nothing I can do.”
“And what will you do about that?” Car’euv demanded, intent.
“For the first, I don’t yet know.” Imogen admitted. “For the last, I intend to slay a Primal.”
There was silence in the room, but the Arbiter did not challenge that further. A goal was not a lie, and the slaying of a Primal was a sacred affair in Ecith. The fact that it probably wouldn’t happen was no cause to interject.
“Then, what of truth?” the Seer asked, “Will you live and speak yours, or will you hide it?”
It wasn’t exactly a fair question, and Imogen had spent most of her life in an organization dedicated to hiding itself from society at large. But it hadn’t done so dishonestly, and that wasn’t the kind of truth which Imogen thought Eiavonar'uv was talking about anyway.
“I will… uh… live truthfully and freely… except inasmuch as I do need to lie to police, and civil authorities, and the military..”
“Eh?”
“I do also tell people, uh, long-form jokes sometimes. That’s a species of lie, but you know, only for comedic effect.”
Car’euv raised a hand to her head and massaged her temple. “Not this again.”
~ Sea ~
“Honestly? The ship ride from Sangen was my first ocean travel, and it was great. I’d love to try to sail more, though it doesn’t seem likely that I’ll get to go on any extended ocean voyages in the immediate future. Oh, and I’d like to travel to that, you know, pirate free city? That sounds like fun..”
~ Suion ~
“We must talk next of love” said the Seer, “though it pains you to do so.”
“It’s fine.” Imogen said firmly. It didn’t really matter what she said here, after all. The books in Ecith could say she pined, if they liked. “I’ve spent several years watching a friend, but I have not had the courage to say anything.”
“Really? And why not?”
“Things are different in Zaichaer. Love is scrutinized and judged. It is a catalyst for pain and doubt and violence.”
“A lie.” The Arbiter seemed almost surprised- perhaps surprised that Imogen had gone so long without telling a lie, or perhaps that such a strange and vulnerable confession was false.
“A-a… lie? I assure you, it isn’t-”
Car’euv quieted the indignant witch. “What you say about Zaichaer may be true. I have heard that it is a barbarous and wretched place in many ways, a close cousin to our enemies themselves. But that is not why you have not made yourself plain to your friend.”
Imogen was quiet after that, and the Seer nodded sympathetically.
“The ways of this other land are strange, but you are here to adopt our ways. I would advise you to reflect long as to why you have repressed this love, and of what precisely you have forged the chains of the repression.”
“That, by the way, is what Truth means.” said Car’euv. Imogen would have expected the disciple of Raxen to sound smug about this, but she did not, and that was almost more infuriating. “Write that on your soul. It will come up again, for good or for ill.”
There was more silence, but it seemed that Eiavonar'uv was satisfied with what he had elicited from Imogen on the topic of love. Instead, he asked:
“What passions do you live with, and how do they drive you?”
“I guess-” the Sunsinger responded, having regained some of her composure, ”Well, I suppose I would say that I am dedicated to the cause of my coven, for which my family first crossed the sea.”
“Yes, the Sunsingers.” Car’euv said, suddenly intent, “What is your order’s cause, precisely?”
“The people of Zaichaer suffer under the auspices of their government, and we work to keep them safe and free.”
“Altruistic, but why does this make you passionate?”
“The covens of Zaichaer… are a fragile thing, but they are valuable. They are the keepers of the spirit of the people of the north, even though few understand. Something unique and precious would be lost if they were wiped away.”
“I see. By chance, do you know if-”
“If we were in any way related to the Dawnmartyrs? Well, it seems like it would be quite a coincidence if we were wholly unrelated, but I don’t know what the connection is, and that’s the whole truth.”
“Not even a little more?”
“Listen, I’m not… a very curious person.”
Hard to argue with that. “As it is, then. Now, on to desire, do-”
“Yes, yes, okay, I’m not getting enough sex and there are at least three people I would like to fuck, and I’m probably only going to get with one of them because folks in the North like to be more exclusive than here. Happy?”
“I think we’ve covered Love enough for you,” said Car’euv, “All Eiavonar'uv was going to ask was whether you would pursue your desires in a healthy way.”
“Ah, fuck.”
“Precisely.” said the Seer, sympathetically.
~ Syren ~
“Music is precious to our people,” the Seer said, “how do you see it?”
“Well- if you ask me, one of the really high points of Zaichaer is their opera. Musical theater, you know, it’s got all the best qualities of entertainment and history. Really connects to people, gives them stories they wouldn’t normally hear in a way they won’t ever forget. Now, I’m an indifferent singer myself, but I have a lot of respect for the greats.”
“Fairly answered,” granted Eiavonar'uv, which was a hell of a relief after the last set of questions. “Now lust–no, don’t groan, I’m going somewhere different with this–will you support others in their freedom to love, and never force your own understandings on them? I don’t merely mean in your own relationships, but these Zaichaeri attitudes towards sex; will you carry them here with you?”
“Naturally not,” Imogen replied, still scowling, “I’ve told you, my project is to protect what is precious in Zaichaer from the threat of what would trammel it. I suppose that must include… well, judgy sexual attitudes.”
“Then finally… have you thought about helping the Librarians get copies of some of these operas you love?”
“I- huh?” Expecting yet another question about her personal life, this apparent ad for the Ecithian Archives caught the Ork off-guard.
“I haven’t looked into it closely, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the dragons are lacking many of Karnor’s plays. Since, as you say, they are treasures, you might find it worthwhile to preserve them? Just something to think about.”
~ Sky ~
“Tell me of wisdom,” said Eiavonar'uv, “How do you seek it?”
“In the past,” Imogen responded, slowly, “I was concerned only with magic. First the magic of Reaving, and the secret fire of the coven. But through that pursuit, I learned the ways of battle, of weapons, and through weapons I learned about their wielders, and ultimately about myself. When I came to Ecith, I sought Animus as a tool, and learned about lemurs, and then cats, and swimming things, and then the forest, and then my place in it. It seems to me that every new thing you learn about the world is ultimately a reflection of yourself, and when you know more about yourself, you know more about the world.”
The two disciples of the Ecithian pantheon stared at Imogen for a moment.
“…a little self-centered, but not a bad answer.” Car’euv ventured.
“Fairly said,” the Seer admitted, “Unity. Will you seek to divide Ecith and her people?”
“Uh… no?”
“Some virtues really are that easy,” Eiavonar'uv confided, “Just keep them in mind. The desire to separate, to segregate and dominate can sneak up on you.”
“I haven’t got any of that now, though.”
“Now, you are young, you yet place your faith in your elders and are content to concern yourself with your own life. If you are lucky, there will come a time when you must make choices for others, and concern yourself with many. When that time comes, look at the marking of sky on your skin and remember this time.”
Imogen had no clever rejoinder to that, so the Seer moved on. “And the future. You have spoken much of your concern for the past and present, but what of the world to come? What designs do you have upon it?”
“In short, it is much the same.” Imogen said, “I will protect people and their freedom, and trust that in doing so, we will have a slightly better world than if I had not.”
Eiavonar'uv seemed content with this, but the Arbiter spoke up once more. “I wonder about this. You have said that you are a corporal in the Sunsingers, but your runes bespeak obvious mastery. Your respect for your commanders is palpable; an admirable quality, but dangerous without moderation. Tell me: have you been dodging responsibility because you fear it, and prefer to be told what to do?”
“Well… a bit.” Imogen confessed, “But mostly I wanted to watch girls dance instead of doing paperwork.”
Car’euv’s head was in her hands again, but there was really only so much room for correction in one ceremony.
~ Fyraea ~
“Of fire…” Eiavonar'uv trailed off, looking at the stylized flame nestled in the Rune of Reaving on Imogen’s breast, “You do not strike me as a woman who lacks fire. I will simply remind you again; fire is needed to accomplish anything in this world, but it is dangerous. Keep your spark alight, but never let it consume you- and remember not to smother others in their own pursuits.”
Imogen accepted this with a silent nod, and the Seer moved on. “Industry… is a dangerous word to the Zaichaeri. The people of Karnor have built many intricate and excellent machines, but-”
“I have seen the mines, and the forges, and the burned and battered workers coming from them to drink their sorrows away at the Gnob each day.” said Imogen. “I have even seen the edges of the blasted wastes of the Clockwork Empire.”
The Seer smiled. “Then on to a lighter matter. You are a warrior, but war is only ever a facet of life, never so grand and important as to rule the whole. What do you do with your time?”
“I’m a janitor.” Imogen replied, “Pretty good at it, too. But someday, when I’m done with Zaichaer… I’ve been learning about beekeeping.”
Car’euv nodded gravely. That was a very serious duty indeed.
~ Galetira ~
“We will honor the Seer with three questions about your future, Imogen. First- will you exclude any from Ecith? Think carefully, for there may be good reasons you would wish to do so.”
“Maybe, but I wouldn’t have the right.”
“Even if they posed a grave danger to you? Or those you love?”
“If someone comes at me with a sword, I’ll knock them on their ass.” Imogen responded, “And if they keep coming, I might have to kill them. But if we’re talking less than that, no.”
“The written word-”
“For the love of- okay, I will get the dragons some musical theater, alright?”
Eiavonar'uv shrugged. That wasn’t exactly where he’d been going with this whole thing but–you know?--it worked. “And the future. Will you watch for signs of what is to come, ponder and reflect thereon?”
“Oh, yeah, I’ve always been pretty good at noticing omens and so on.”
Car’euv jolted up, as though she’d been slapped. There was a great pause, and the Arbiter felt like the mountain should have trembled beneath the sheer magnitude of the falsity of Imogen’s statement.
The Seer breathed out slowly, wondering if he should say something. Imogen Ward might have been the single least gifted seer he’d ever met… but this wasn’t a test to enter Galetira’s temple. Well, maybe a little encouragement on the subject of self-improvement?
“Before you leave the mountain-” Eiavonar'uv said at last, “Let’s talk a little bit about prediction, and how it is done. Even you might find it helpful.”
“Absolutely, sure thing.” She had not even noticed the strange tone in his voice.
“Then the interview is done. The design, I now see. Come to the table, and I will share it with you.”