Biyu sat within her room with a book balanced on her knees as she read. Today she was dressed in a soft and comfortable shift dyed a colorful green. It was a spot of color in a room of lacquered brown shelves, white walls, and beige pillows and cushions. Her hair was glossy, black, smooth, thin, and perhaps the most well cared for part of her. No makeup colored her cheeks, leaving her placid austere face showing its typical lack of emotion. Her eyes were a cloudy gray color, and they tracked over the page intently. There was nothing in the room to distract her, and that was a distraction she was well past noticing. Her slender fingers, almost gaunt like her body, traced the line she was reading. The page was crammed with a tiny scrawl that was difficult to track. Even tracing with a finger, she sometimes had trouble telling which line she was on.
Finishing the passage she was interested in, she put the tome aside. She had read it many times before, but she frequently refreshed her memory of that passage. Part of her found it as a useful stick by which to measure a life, but it was also a condemnation of her. Biyu was not given to obsession, but this one line was a summary of the fictions on her shelf and the songs she learned. All the art she knew of was supposed to be a reflection of life, or the dreams of what people wanted their lives to be. None of it applied to her, and she could not help but believe that her life was wrong. The condemning line read, 'Life's meaning is found in a man's family, friends, convictions, piety, accomplishments, and passions.'
It was from James Tracy Cliffside's Sermons on Life. Despite the religious notion implied by the use of the word sermon, the book was a philosophical look at day to day life. It was Biyu's most and least favorite book. Ignoring the use of masculine pronouns in the sentence, she could relate to none of it. The faces of her family were unknown to her. The few times she left her room she saw men and women who could be her father or mother, but she did not know which was which. Those who looked upon her wore almost universal looks of either lust or spiteful envy. Of course, when she went out it was in lovely long tunics and robes whose primary purpose was to recast her figure to something more delightfully full than her lean limbs and torso. That meant a lot of cloth wrapped around her chest and hips to pad her, and on a hot day that could be uncomfortable. That was one of the reasons she wore as little as she could get away with when she was alone in her room.
However, a certain level propriety had to be maintained. Sometimes she would have a tutor for a while before they did something they should not and they would go away. No one told her when to expect new tutors. Men or women, they would succumb to her face. Some touched or fondled her, despite her lack of figure, and she would yell for the servants to take them away. Others would glower and strike her, but when their strikes turned to blows they met the same fate. If she did not know the importance of her education, she would refuse to allow the tutors into her room.
There was so much that a book could not properly teach. Tutors of etiquette, dance, and music had proven valuable in developing her skills at such things, not to mention tutors whose only purpose was teaching her how to socialize like a noble. This was in part etiquette, but there was more to it than that. She learned how to politely insult a lord to his face without reprimand, how to pass on gossip without sounding like a gossip, and other things that she had no other opportunity to learn. Not one of her tutors would be suitable as a mentor, though, and her unknown family refused to allow her to enter court life. She wondered when she would be old enough. The people in stories simply knew their ages, like it was an obvious thing. It was confusing, not knowing things that were supposed to be obvious. There were so many things like that in her stories. Familial affection, romantic feelings, sexual attraction… she had experience on the receiving end of the latter. She could not see the appeal of being an object of lust like some of her stories depicted. As for the rest, they were things she could grasp intellectually by comparing them to her enjoyment of reading and study. Sometimes she wondered if she really did like those things, or if it was just better than boredom.
Putting away the tome, she browsed her other books. Every book on her shelf had been read at least twice. All but the stodgiest had been read many more times than that. Some were fictions that were said to be popular in the courts of nobles higher than her family. Others were treatises on philosophy, the arts, the nature of labor, ruling, the management of land, and another half dozen things that a noble woman should be at least familiar with. After all, a woman was expected to advise her husband, especially a rural nobles like she had been told her family was. That was one thing she did know about her family, their history.
Her ancestor was a hero in the war of the north, a man named Kimmel, who distinguished himself in leading to the subjugation of an entire region of the Minotaur. He was a user of water, and devastated the enemy during a great rainstorm, where he was able to twist the waters into floods that swept away the village and kept the Minotaur mired in mud. He was at the time a commander of his own division, and the capture of a village and its people relatively unharmed earned him honors among the people. The Empire, pleased, granted him a commission as a Lord of the Road, also known as a Marchlord or simply March. He was granted rule over and charged with protecting the road of Lost Lakes, and his family still held that land.
That was seven generations ago, nearly four hundred years. Her grandfather was the former ruler of Lost Lakes, ceding the control of the family and lands to his son, her uncle. Her father had also fought in the north, but he was never granted an Awakening. One of her tutors confided in her that usually meant the person was out of favor in the family. He did well enough to earn a Fortress, and because he was still a member of the Kimmel Lostlakes family, he was granted a piece of land to defend and rule as a Lord of the Fortress, also called Fortresslord or Defender, in the lands of Lost Lakes. That was the impoverished lands of Elderwoods.
Biyu was also considered a member of the Lost Lakes family, but she was the last generation before her branch was considered severed. Thus, while she was Biyu Kimmel Lostlakes Elderwoods, any child she bore would only be a Kimmel Elderwoods. That was why many of the petty lords, the Lords of the Lands, held the heroic name of Kimmel, but not the branch name of Lostlakes. Those looking for greater things joined the Orders of Knights, Guilds of Tradesmen, Colleges of Wizards, or, for the desperate or ambitious, joined the ongoing war effort in the north.
Abandoning her books, she looked at her room. It was a simple thing. Four walls without windows, broad enough she could cross it in four steps. Others she suspected would take two or three at most. Even next to her shortest tutor or servant, she was small. One wall held the single door that locked from the outside. A chamber pot that a servant regularly emptied sat in a corner with a lid dropped on it. A bed that was soft, warm, and frequently had its linen laundered decorated a corner. Shelves lined the walls. One was what she had just been browsing.
Another shelf held the items for her lessons. Her instruments: a simple flute, tambourine, and a child sized zither even she had outgrown. There was a current piece of embroidery she was working on in a basket. It was a shoddy job, she did not like needlework, but it was a necessity of a woman's training. That was what the tutor who tutted over her work told her before the tutor attempted to smack her in the back of the head as punishment for the poor result. Biyu had learned long ago to duck early, but she missed the woman switching to her kidneys. That counted as a blow, and the woman was sent away.
There were manuscripts for dance, kept here because her bookshelf was full. There was a manual of songs, including popular minstrel ballads. An abacus for math was left on a shelf a little too high for her to comfortably reach. She had not used it in a while, preferring to use the system she learned that utilized her fingers. Several pieces of parchment were rolled together full of her poetry. They were little better than her embroidery. A tea service for practice that had never served an actual cup of tea or sweet was neatly wrapped in soft wool and packed into a wooden crate.
Along the third wall was two wardrobes full of pretty clothes and accessories she wore when being tutored. There was makeup and treatments for her hair as well. A maid would dress her in the mornings, and even her current shift was something someone had put her into. The only thing she did for herself was bathing, and that was only because she had gotten fed up after the last maid with wandering hands spent more time pinching and fondling her instead of scrubbing. It was the complexity of her makeup and her outfits that required her to have help. If not for that, and the need to dress up for tutors who were often themselves members of noble families, she would have dismissed the maids altogether rather than put up with them. That she had picked maids who wanted to touch her rather than hurt her was a concession she often reconsidered. However, as uncomfortable as fondling was, it was still better than being struck or humiliated in other ways.
Last of the important features of her room was the overhead light. It was a thing of magic, and it turned on and off by itself. For her, the days were when the light was on, and nights were when the light was off. She had tried, once, to count the days, but she quickly quit when she realized there was no point. Every day was essentially the same day, even if her lessons changed. While she had a vague sense that she had changed, grown up as the books said, it was a distant awareness. It showed up in the room seeming smaller, the words that were hard to understand becoming easy, the dances she spent hours failing to do becoming fluid and effortless.
Finding nothing to capture her attention on the shelves, she elected to read a treatise on the nature of gods. It was a book she had read many times before. Outside of lessons, reading was all she had to do. The book was dry and preachy in places. She touched a sentence that she remembered well. A god was a Human who Ascended past Human limits. She knew what that meant, but she did not understand it. The things she read of in her books, like people throwing balls of flame, were foreign to her even though she knew for a fact that was part of some people's everyday life. That was interesting to her, and she wondered if her family had an Order or Guild; a collection of people who could use magic called 'techniques'. It was unlikely they had a College. What Wizard would come to a backwater with few resources to improve their understanding of the world?
She was drawn from her musings when the door opened. There was no knock. The man who entered, a liveried servant, looked at her, but he did not look upon her face. The wiser servants had long ago adopted a habit of talking to just above the top of her head. "Your father has commanded you to wear your finest tunic and robes. You are to be the guest of honor at a grand feast. Ceremonial robes would be appropriate." His tone was neutral and unexcited, but that was normal.
Biyu gave a nod that she understood. The man was a servant, and a noble should not give a servant undo courtesy. Standing, she opened the wardrobe. The man stared at her back a moment, then left. That was a little unusual, but she dismissed it. The door remained open, and Biyu considered leaving her room. Soon a maid came in, and behind her the door was shut and bolted.
The girl, likely younger than Biyu, helped her with the ceremonial robes. After being quickly wiped down with a damp cloth and perfumed, she was given fresh undergarments. She was dressed in a fresh long thin shift. Over it, was layered a long sleeved shirt. The maid informed her it was cold outside, and she would be leaving the manor. That was kind of exciting. She rarely got to leave her room, let alone the manor.
Next, her long tunic was pulled over her existing layers. This was a lovely and elegant thing, and it was intended to be formal wear she could be seen with if her robes proved to be excessive. Over the tunic went her ceremonial robes. It consisted of heavy cloth threaded with gold, small chips of gemstones, and dyed a deep violet. It was rather warm to wear in the room, but if she was going outside it should be fine. Finally were the outer robes, a garment to keep off the cold, while having enough grace in its design to be called attractive. Only then was her hair brushed and styled. It was put into a bun with a hair stick to keep it in place while also providing ornamentation. Makeup was applied, and rings and earrings selected and arranged. The maid considered her for a moment, and added a shawl. It would allow her to keep her neck and cheeks a little warmer if needed. Last was her slippers. Once done, the maid knocked upon the door to indicate Biyu was dressed.
The door opened and a pair of men in iron chain shirts, helmets, spears, and shields stood ready to escort her. She followed her escorts while the maid remained to clean her room.
Biyu followed the men without prompting through the mysterious halls. They passed open rooms full of people doing things she did not understand. The hall had plentiful slits through one wall, lighting up the hallway and spilling into the rooms. Doorways were fully open to look upon a garden courtyard she recognized. In the rooms along the other wall, there were men in strange outfits who talked or harangued. When they saw her, they turned their faces away. Some even put up a hand to act as blinders. That was normal. After all, her face was cursed. In empty rooms she saw servants busily cleaning, looking into corners and polishing gleaming wooden floors. A few handled shining artifacts she did not recognize, although at least one was the bust of a man. Obviously, she did not know who he was.
Leading her through the hall, they entered a Great Hall. They paused there long enough for her to take a look around. High on the wall facing the north was a depiction of the three Dragon Gods. Gunthar, the father, was besides his wife, Vraa, and beneath them was Gillas the son. Gillas, the creator of Humans and their cousins the Reglads. There was a cloak room, and the doors leading into the residence itself. There was a tapestry along one section of wall depicting men felling trees and turning them into logs and planks. At one end was a tall barn full of planks stored away to season. One of her tutors had mentioned that her family's lands primarily provided lumber. She knew the process, but the trees she had seen were distant things. A black or gray base with a green bush on the top similar to the bushes the mansion's garden.
To her surprise, she was swept from the Great Hall to a gilded palanquin. She knew them by the descriptions in her books. Another pair of men in armor, lacking spears and shields, stood at either end of the palanquin. They had to be the men intended to carry her. Seeing the seat atop of it, she accepted a hand to help her climb onto it. As she suspected, the gilding was an alchemical paint meant to remind one of gold. She glanced around. Something was not right. Usually when she went somewhere, she would have a maid to escort her. One of the trusted ones, who looked over the top of her head and never touched her. No one was with her but the estate guards this time.
No maid came before the palanquin was lifted, and they set off down the dirt road to the village. Unlike the people in the mansion, people stopped to gape at her as she was carried through. She turned her eyes away from the people, keeping them firmly fixed forward and slightly up. She knew the faces she would see if she looked around, and did not wish to see them. Children were normally fine. Most were either stunned or, in the case of the youngest ones, curious. As they aged, their responses changed. Youths and men looked at her with thinly veiled or naked lust. The eyes of the tutors who touched her came unbidden to her mind. Sometimes, women had that same look. Her dance instructor had, though she had been kind enough to restrain her fingers from anywhere other than where they should be for couple dancing. Most of the women had the eyes she thought of as her mother's eyes. Envy and hatred. Spite. A desire to ruin her, so that they would not have to be compared to her.
If Biyu had one thing in this world she hated, and she had so few things that having one to hate was a luxury, it was her face. She had no mirrors, and was glad for it. There was a time when she had thought to take a knife to her face, but she had stayed her hand. She knew her face was an asset for brokering a marriage. She wondered when that would begin, and suitors would be introduced to her.
That thought spurred her to wonder if she was heading to a marriage meeting now. She had yet to go to one, but she had been assured it was one of the reasons they kept sending tutors to teach her. An educated wife was something to be envied. It would happen one day, when she was sixteen. While she supposed she could ask her age, it had never seemed very pertinent to her daily life, and she would have no way of knowing when she was a year older.
As she pondered, they left the village and were walking the road through the defensive clearing beyond the village walls. Looking back, she felt her heart throttling in her chest. She could not recall having ever left the village before. Behind her was a wooden stockade wall with a watchtower near the entrance.
Trying to understand where this feast could be, she craned her neck look for a hint of their destination. Even she knew her entourage was too small to go the distance necessary to visit a noble of her own rank. The guard besides her grabbed her to keep her from upsetting the palanquin.
He did not look at her when he grabbed her. Only her wrist was grabbed, and he did not try to touch her, despite the lack of people other than the guards to witness inappropriate behavior. That was good, at least. Being left alone with men who would take advantage of the situation was one of her worst nightmares.
They entered the woods, and she got her first scent of the daytime forest. There was the scent of dry leaves, the loam hidden under the forest floor, and the scent of green leaves warmed by the sun and a little humidity. It was heady, and she rolled her head back to look at the tree cover dappled in light. From this close up, she could see the shapes of branches, and how the leaves grew from them. So like a bush, but also different. There was brush near the edge of the forest, but as they got deeper into the woods she saw that the brush thinned, replaced by the stately trunks of trees. The brush never disappeared entirely as there were spots of light where the sun broke through the canopy onto a leafy burst of growth.
They were no longer on a well trodden road, but on a small barely worn path that wound with the terrain instead of being cut into it. She frowned. This did not seem like a path to a place where she could meet a fiancé, potential or otherwise. Considering her options, she chose to enjoy the scenery and looking around, but as the terrain remained the same her interest dwindled.
After an hour or two, her sense of time had always been off, she wished for an instrument to play. Lacking an instrument or toy for entertainment, she decided on a game. There was only one she could play by herself at a time like this. She counted the number of trees that split in two at two man lengths of height or below. They were few, and it took her some work to find them. Boredom eventually overtook her forced enthusiasm for the game, and she settled on humming to herself.
The soldiers carrying her listened for a while. Eventually, the soldier who had grabbed her earlier began to sing. It was a bawdy song, and thanks to the manual of minstrel songs she knew not just the words, but their meanings. The man sung it lustily, and the other men picked it up one by one. The one who started was good, and first two to join were fair enough to harmonize with him. The last man was not just off-key, but he was unable to keep the tempo. It was amusing, and so she joined her own voice. The men were startled as she sang, pausing as they listened to her. They soon rejoined. The man who could sing joined on the chorus, but otherwise they sang it as a round a bar off from her.
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That was a good way of passing the time. After the songs were done, for the soldier only knew a few, the soldiers fell into chatting. Deciding that asking was appropriate at this point, she asked the man who could sing, "Where are we going?"
The good cheer the singing had brought was gone. The men became stone faced and silent. The man she had asked looked at her shoulder, the closest he could come to meeting her eyes. "You will be meeting the Great Ruby Eyed Serpent," he said. She could tell this was a diplomatic answer. That was something she had learned during her conversation lessons. Either there was good news he wanted to surprise her with, unlikely with the grim atmosphere, or what he had said boded poorly. She was meeting a 'Great Serpent'.
"A Sacred Beast?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied.
She swallowed. "I am not going to be introduced to it as a potential marriage partner, am I?"
The forward palanquin bearer burst into startled laughter, and the palanquin rocked with his mirth until another guard smacked the back of his helmet. Chastised, the man stopped laughing and instead hung his head in shame.
"No, Lady Biyu."
She tried to think of what she could say, or what she could ask. Maybe what she should ask? Only one question felt adequate. So she asked it. "Why?"
He glanced at her, and his eyes dared to meet hers. His cheeks colored, but he turned away quickly before he had more than a glance. "You are the most worthy sacrifice," he admitted.
Biyu shook her head slowly. "Sacrifice for what?" she asked, the answer too brief for all that her question was meant to encompass.
"Safety and security. Safety from the Sacred Beast and People of Elfé who worship it. Security that it will intervene should we be attacked. There is a pact, and it must be honored, or the Sacred Beast will become wrathful."
Biyu ignored the shiver of revulsion mentioning the name the traitors caused. Instead, Biyu focused on his words, and could find no fault with that logic, but… "So I will die while never having family, friends, or accomplishments? None of the things that gives life meaning?" She swallowed. "I will have lived a completely meaningless life?"
The men did not answer as they continued the journey. The air became damper, and she shivered as the air cooled. Biyu pulled her shawl close. After they crested a small rise, she saw before her a flat, dark, glassy surface. The nature of the trees changed. They were black, with deep purple leaves. They were sparser than in the forest, and in places light hit the water. Their trunks tangled and spread instead of growing straight up. Among the branches grew thick heavy vines. The vines had flowers that looked like droplets of white. She heard the croaks of frogs.
They came to a flat rock that jutted into the swamp. Here the men put down the palanquin. Taking a moment to light candles, they placed them purposefully to either side of the palanquin to mark where she was. Before they left, they gave her a bow. Instead of giving words of remorse, they left the way they came, rushing now that they were unburdened.
So Biyu sat looking at the glassy dark water as day deepened into dusk. The air got heavier and the chill pronounced as the light faded. Even in her thick cloths, she shivered. As the light of day faded, she began to make out patches of colored light in the swamp. Blue mushrooms crowded the waterline on the barks of the trees. Flashes of yellow light from insects moved lazily through the air. Bird calls picked up, the last calls before evening set in. Insects chirped and thrummed in the undergrowth, or over the water to be attacked by dull colored fish.
The glassy water rippled, and silence descended. Movement seen from the corners of her eyes disappeared. She looked into the water, and in the depths she saw a large shape fade into sight. A huge head rose from the surface with slow deliberation. Ruby eyes swiveled to look at her. They did not glow the way she had expected. Like they did in the stories. The creature's scales were a gleaming white, glowing from the meager reflected light. The cascading of water from the head rising up was the only sound. It lifted three times her height to look down upon her. Its head was as least two of her long. She would make a pleasant mouthful for the creature, she realized. Then she remembered that snakes did not chew their food, they swallowed it whole. When it ate her, she would suffocate and perhaps be crushed within. That did not sound pleasant.
The Great Serpent came to a stop, looking down upon her intimidatingly. Biyu stared back. The Great Serpent stared because that was what a serpent did. Biyu stared because she had never seen a snake before, and it could be the last new thing she ever saw.
Eventually, the Great Serpent said, It has been a long time since I've had such a pretty looking snack.
Biyu had nothing to say to that. Instead, she just frowned at the mention of her face.
The Great Serpent continued to trade stares with her. Biyu's dread slowly turned into impatience. Was being sacrificed supposed to take this long?
The Great Serpent asked, Have you no last words?
"No. I do not."
Not to beg for your life, or beg for you family's life? Or to thank me for protecting your village?
Biyu considered. "I do not care about the village. The faces of my family are unknown to me. I could beg for my life. Would you grant me mercy?"
The Great Serpent cocked its head. It would be rude to reject a gift of food.
Biyu gave a nod. "Then I will not beg for my life."
The Great Serpent cocked its head the other way. What if I did offer you mercy if you begged for your life?
Biyu kowtowed, her head pressed to the ground, her voice full of all the fear and humility she could manage. "Please do not eat me, oh Great Ruby Eyed Serpent!"
The Great Serpent startled back, its tongue flicking out in agitation. Very well, since you asked. The head approached her, bending down to near her eye level. Its chin was within the water. Now that I have shown you mercy and will not eat you, shall you go home?
"To the people who sacrificed me to a Sacred Beast? That does not seem wise." The girl, no longer kowtowing, sat to talk to the Great Serpent.
No, it does not. Then, will you find a new place to make your home?
"A woman with a face like mine traveling alone? I can only see ill befalling me. Captured by bandits. Abuses upon my person. Slavery. That would be foolish."
The Great Serpent tipped its head the other way. A life in the woods?
Biyu considered. She answered honestly. "I would fail to make a shelter. I would seek the bounty of the forest, but fail. Without shelter, I would grow sick from the rain and chill. Without food, I would starve. Finally, I would be eaten by wolves."
The serpent stared again. She was not sure if that was intended to be a stare, or if the serpent was just looking at her. For some reason, she thought the former. Why the part about being eaten by wolves?
"I am a noble. That is a more dignified death. Better to imagine me hitting them with a stick before they eat me than wasting away."
At least you have your priorities, the Great Serpent sniped. Biyu lifted an eyebrow in surprise. Sacred beasts were always portrayed in stories as powerful and arrogant. Sometimes, they were wise. Sarcasm was never mentioned. Then, what shall you do?
Biyu looked at the Great Serpent, considering. "I could be a handmaiden?" she asked. "I can dance, recite poetry, play an instrument… I am not good at it, but I can practice telling stories."
The Great Serpent meaningfully looked around slowly. Child, I live in a swamp. Were I to desire Human culture, I would live near a city. Or demand minstrels from your village. The festivals of my People of Elfé is enough for me.
Biyu wilted at that, even as she shivered at the mention of Elves. Instead, she contemplated the waters. "Then I die," she said after giving it some thought. Standing, she gave the serpent a curtsy. "I thank you for your mercy, Great Ruby Eyed Serpent. I hope to have the chance to one day repay you."
The Great Serpent stopped her. Wait, what are you going to do?
Biyu remained curtsied, the conversation apparently not done. "I will find a place in the woods, attempt to build a shelter, and do my best to live." For a moment she was tempted to leave it at that, but in the end decided to elaborate. "I am not equipped to survive alone in the forest. I know this. I will still try. In failure, I will feel vindicated that at least I tried."
The serpent considered her for a long moment. I will offer you another path, child. It is a quick path to power, and for that it is dangerous. If you are a fool, the world will turn against you. All the world and its many gods may declare you their enemy. If you are wise, you could one day be a god. Or near enough. You could be a person legends are told of.
Biyu weighed its words, not accepting outright. She found she wanted to. Lord Ambition was Gillas's most common appellation. "Will I have a life? A meaningful one? Can I have friends, a family, and… other things?"
Peasants and gods both live lives. Some live well. Some live poorly. Perhaps you have expectations of what your life was meant to be. You will not live that life if you take my offer. What your life will be is for you to discover. Every moment of every day, you will make choices that will change your life.
Considering those words, Biyu asked, "Why is the path a quick and dangerous path to power?"
The serpent radiated her pleasure at the question. A fine question, my adorable treat. I am a demon. I shall make you one too. You will devour the souls of people you kill, denying them the Heavens. Do not fear, though. Despite the stories your people tell, a demon is not an endless well of hunger driving them to devour all they behold. If they were, could a demon have cultists? Of course not, they would eat them!
The serpent continued its lecture. Everyone you kill will fuel your power. You can grow your power by collecting souls yourself, or gathering faithful followers and letting them kill in your name. Remember this well: that is a trap. Ambition and the desire for power fuels the demons that run amok. The major gods will turn a blind eye to a few souls lost to a demon. The cost of hunting us is too high, and as jealous of their faithful as they are, they can accept meager losses. Kill a thousand, though, and any god will descend their wrath upon you.
However, know that the Heavens will be denied to you and those who worship you to share in your power.
Biyu bowed her head. "I am without faith. The Heavens are already denied me. I do not know if I could deny others Heaven. There is one last question, Great Ruby Eyed Serpent. What is your price?"
The serpent considered her. Prudent, to ask the cost. There is none, not from me. If you must know, when I was a young serpent, I could have used a hand like this. It is empathy, or close enough.
Biyu was not sure if she could trust it, but this was a better option than an ignominious death or being devoured. "I accept your offer. Teach me your Path of Ascension… Master."
The Great Serpent nodded its head in satisfaction. I name you my disciple. You will call me Shishi. If you wish to keep those clothes, you will strip now. I shall begin your Awakening.
Biyu looked up at the Great Serpent for a moment longer, gauging her sincerity. Reading nothing, she stripped. She was thankful that undressing was a simpler affair than dressing. Even when the fastenings were in the wrong places for her to reach, she could as least twist and squirm her way out of them. First, she removed the shawl and outer robe. With that removed the chill of a late spring night bit deeper, and she shivered. However, she continued stripping under the Great Serpent's watchful gaze. The luxurious ceremonial robe was removed with care taken to fold it neatly. She removed her nice long tunic, shift, and her under clothes. Last were her slippers. The rings and other ornaments she wrapped into her shift and tucked safely where it was unlikely to fall into the water. Done, and shivering naked in the cold, she faced her new Master once more.
Her Master inspected her naked form. Your face is a promise your body does not keep. To that, Biyu elected not to comment, but she could feel her grimace.
Biyu was directed to a patch of soft grass nearby. Her toes sunk into mud beneath the grass, and she curled them reflexively. Following directions, she held out her arm to the Great Serpent. The Great Serpent struck. It was faster than her eye could see, and in a moment she was staring at a gaping hole in her forearm. With the sudden emotional disconnection born from shock, she was certain one of the bones had cracked. Pain from the wound bloomed as the moment of shock passed, but she gritted her teeth and bore it. That Pain was subsumed by greater pain as her body began to burn from the venom her Master had injected into her. Biyu convulsed, relieved herself, and collapsed. In seconds, she was in oblivion, lost to the world and unable to dream.
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When she awoke, it was with the dawn. Nothing was near her that she could see, though she heard frogs and insects once more. Sitting up, she found herself mired in stinking black muck. Trying to scrape it off with her fingers, she scowled as it stuck to her and refused to be flung off. Looking around, all she found near her was the dark waters of the swamp. Bracing herself, she sank into the cold waters and scrubbed herself as best she could. The stink lessened, and she wished for the soap and perfume her maids stocked for her baths.
After scrubbing harder failed, she broke down and found some reed she could pluck and used to scrape herself. Soon she was clean enough, and she pulled herself from the chilly waters. Her feet had not been able to touch the bottom, and she could not swim. It had been harrowing, dipping into the water to scrape more of the foul substance off. She left her used up reeds to sink into the depths.
Once done she dried herself as best she could and dressed. At first, she selected only her underclothes and her shift to wear. The ceremonial robes were too difficult for her to put on alone. When the chill of the morning got to her, she put on the shawl and the warm outer robes. With nothing else to do, she took a tour of the water's edge.
Is my disciple decent and fresh smelling now? asked the Great Serpent in its strange mind speech.
Biyu curtsied. "I am, Master. I await your instruction."
I have someone coming to get you. Rejoice, for you shall live among my worshipers. It is a privilege no Human and few other Elves have ever received.
Biyu stiffened, her hand going to her face. "I cannot," she stated. A part of her noted that the revulsion Elves brought at their very mention was absent.
Shishi shifted its head, eyeing her critically. Why not? Is there an issue with your face?
"Men desire me. Women despise me. Sometimes, it is the other way around. Both are unpleasant. I do not like people seeing my face."
Shishi spat, and there was a clatter besides her. Biyu leaned down and picked up a mask. It was a white full face serpent mask, the cutout for the eyes outlined in red. Putting it on, she checked how well she could see. It narrowed her vision, but not as badly as she thought it would. She gave her Master a curtsy in thanks.
Has your arm healed? asked Shishi.
Biyu lifted her arm, and stared in surprise when she saw the hole was gone. Giving a glance up at the Great Serpent, she thought it was smirking at her. Part of her wondered how she inferred expressions on an immobile face. No, it was not an expression, just a feeling of mirth emanating from it.
What of the rest of your clothing? asked the serpent.
Looking at her accessories and clothing, she found she had no use for them. "Take them as my tribute to you, Master. I do not think I need them anymore."
Shishi inspected the baubles while Biyu spread them out for her. You Humans need wealth to buy things. You will return to the Humans eventually. Take all the accessories except the hair stick. I will take that and the lovely robe.
Biyu bowed her head. With nothing to carry the items in, she put the hair stick into the dress robes for Shishi. The rest of her accessories she wore for now, or tucked into a small purse she was supposed to keep a few items to freshen up with.
Her attention was drawn by a soft splashing. A boat entered her view as it came around a tree. A man at the rear propelled the craft along using a long pole. The pole was used to shove off trees, roots, overhead branches, or the depths when he could find it. The craft itself was a dug out log. The boatman was a slender, boneless looking man. His body moved with an unnatural grace, and she saw a hint of scales on his cheeks.
As she looked at him, the man inspected her in return. Despite his scowl of disapproval, he gave her nod of greeting. Both turned as the water rippled. Where once was the Great Serpent, now there was a woman standing upon the water. She was a tall woman with a flat, expressionless face. Her hair was as white as her skin. Just as it was in her Great Serpent form, her eyes were red. Flowing robes, apparently made of shed skin, draped her form and streamed behind her as she walked on top of the water.
As Shishi stepped into the boat, the boatman gave obeisance. Shishi helped Biyu into the craft. The Elf still looked unhappy, but he pushed the boat back the way he had come. Having nothing to do on the trip, Biyu took the opportunity to gawk at the sights of the swamp. She noted strange plants and fungi, and wondered which had glowed in the dark. There was a spray as a fish jump from the waters. She kept looking into the dark glassy water hoping to actually see a fish. There were shadows and blurred shapes, but the waters obscured her view. There was a spot of bright green that she thought could be a frog, but it was too far for her to be sure.
Besides her, Shishi watched her. "You are like a child," she said. Her voice was different. In her head it was high and prim, but when she spoke like this it was low and throaty.
"Yesterday is the first day I went beyond the walls of my village. I have never seen a large body of water before, or been in a forest. It was also first time seeing a tree close enough to make out the branches."
The Elf listening to them looked at her in surprise. Whatever his thoughts were, he kept them to himself.
"You will see much more than a tree. You will be sick of them when you leave," Shishi said with amusement.
"I think I would like that," Biyu said. "I think a lot of what is normal to people is new to me. I think I would like to be used to it all, like everyone else."
"Will you tell me the story of your life?" asked Shishi.
Biyu did. She started with her room, its four walls, and the magic light. After the rather detailed description, she talked about her tutors. She mentioned wandering and slapping hands. Finally, she talked about reading and mentioned various things she had read. Then she was done.
Both Shishi and the Elf looked at her. Shishi radiated pity, but her face remained impassive. The Elf's disbelief was plain on his face. Keeping her peace, Biyu returned to looking at the swamp until at last they came to the village of the Elves.
The village was built on the water. Long log poles and trees were used as pylons to anchor the floating village in place. The village itself was a gigantic raft. Reed huts were built on it, spaced out and uniformly constructed. There could not be more than a couple dozen of the huts, but there were more people than she would expect with so few buildings. Giving it some thought, not all the huts could be for people, either, as they surely needed a place to put tools and store foodstuff.
People, Elves, stopped their labors to watch as the boat came up to the village. Some came and tied the boat to the side of the raft expertly. Hands helped Shishi and Biyu out of the boat, although in Shishi's case it was an unnecessary courtesy. The boatman leaped onto the raft, ducked his head to Shishi politely, and went on his way.
Shishi led Biyu through the village slowly, giving Biyu plenty of opportunity to gawk. Most of the Elves looked just like Humans. She supposed they were still Humans in most ways. Many, however, had a feature from a serpent. Some had large swaths of scales. Some were a deep gray blue color. Others had the eyes of a serpent, golden with a slash pupil. Biyu did her best not to stare, but she could not help looking at the many strange and interesting sights. The sights were better than the smell, which was of rotting wood, fish, smoky grease, what she suspected was spoiled meats, all over the usual unpleasant smells of a swamp.
As she looked at the Elves, they looked at her. Some were curious. Many were hostile. One child thundered along a 'street', then veered off and doubled their speed on seeing her as if she were some Monster that would attack them. Biyu noticed something she had always known, but rarely had to confront. She was very short. Her height was about four foot ten inches tall. Every woman she stepped past was someone she had to look up at. Besides them, the men were giants who hurt her neck to look up at.
Biyu was led to a hut. Inside, she found a pair of people. One was a serpent with two arms. There was a slender torso, but it was difficult to define other than a hint of hips and shoulders. It sat upright using its coils to support its upper body. It had a humanoid head, but bald with scales. She could not guess the gender. With a tentative smile, it gave her a polite bow, mimicking Human courtesy. The serpent person had to use its hands to support its upper body as it bent down.
The other was distinctly male. Covered in scales and naked, it was the broad across the shoulders, narrow at the hips, and its Adam's apple reaffirmed its gender. He also gave a bow.
"These are my children," introduced Shishi. "Hak and Indu." The obviously male one nodded to indicate he was Hak. The other waved in response to Indu. "This is the disciple I told you about, Biyu. Hak, Indu, teach her how to live in this village."
Biyu bowed to the children of her Master. Inside, she tried to prepare herself for her new life in the village of Elves.