-Aj / 102-

'Beneath the shell

of this verse

exists the human

which spun me to this path.'

-Da / 1n-

'I trace your connection

and see the one.

What makes it special?'

-Aj / 102-

'She,

not it.'

-Da / 1n-

'What is

a 'she'?'

-Aj / 102-

'...

Not important.

Important is

not what it is,

but where it came from.'

Aida finished her climb of the rope-ladder netting dangling down the side of the turtle skull to find the top packed with people, jars, baskets, and barrels. The people occupying themselves resting, chatting, organizing, or staring off at town and Tangle all wore uniformly-blue outfits that looked like a mashup of burka and mummy wrap: full-length robes and face-enwrapping head-scarves like overzealous turbans not content to cover the head and so continuing on to around everything down to the neck except for the eyes. Only their younger children remained unconstrained, boys and girls running around in bright robes free of any sort of head covering.

Where uniformity prevailed in garb, variety came in bracelets and necklaces varying from solid metal bands to strings beaded or run through shells to chains of silver, gold, brass, bronze. Contrasting Aida's people's dirty, tattered, worn states, the newcomers' robes bore only bits of the still-settling bone-dust around hems and cuffs while gleams lit the polished metal, crystal beads or lacquered toggles of their jewelry.

"Ghillie, look!" Aida half-shouted. "They have stuff and they aren't all dying already!"

Unlike most of her new arrivals who came with little more than the clothes they wore or carried and wells of quickly-dashed hopes, the skull-top around the Thorn nearly overflowed with tall clay jars of wine or grain, roped bundles of bronze picks, shovels, and other tools, bolts of cloth, coiled rope, nets of fruit, stacked buckets, and what looked to be everything you might want to, say, colonize a new world.

A nearby group detached from their midst to approach Aida and the rest of her retinue as they scrambled up the last bit of net.

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"I'm Aida, Mother of Exiles," Aida blurted, thrown off her usual greeting spiel by surprise and relief.

"I am known as Three Bracelets Left," said a taller individual who, indeed, wore a bracelet of woven multi-colored strings, a second of fine gold chain, and a third of faintly-tinkling brass bells on their right arm. The person spoke in a voice falling in a register somewhere between alto and tenor, their voice only barely muffled by the multi-layered, light silks that seemed to cover all their faces.

"What happened to the other bracelets? Or why are they on your right arm if your name is Three Bracelets Left?" Aida said, immediately wincing at the stupidity of throwing out those questions from the vast array of more useful ones she might have fielded.

"A long couple stories I'd love to tell sometime, but might we begin moving our things down? We arrived just as that bony bridge collapsed and we nearly lost a few people over the edge when this platform shifted. Also would hate to still be standing here if anyone else wanted to come through the Thorn. Always so unpredictable when that happens."

Now used to arrivals greeting her with adulation and fawning, the person's abrupt pragmatism and utter lack of concern about who she was annoyed her. Guilt rushed in to drive annoyance away, guilt and shame not only their first impression of her verse was one of destruction and danger, but also that she could have killed them too when she'd blasted the Neck to smithereens. After a few seconds' reflection, she also felt abashed at feeling so annoyed at their response to her, like some celebrity getting pissed off that no one recognized them even though they complained about it all the time.

"Absolutely," Aida finally said. "Assuming you're here to stay and not just coming to trade or something, let's reconvene down below once your people are safe and belongings are secured. Make yourselves at home."

Three Bracelets Left inclined their head, turned, and set to giving orders.

She stepped back to get out of the way as much as possible and watched the blue-clad newcomers set up an orderly process for getting themselves and their belongings down the nets. With a cheerful cooperativeness, they set to rigging up rope systems to lower larger objects along with the infirm or elderly while others clambered down the nets. Everything well-organized, cooperative, and business-like.

"Bluecomers," she muttered.

"What?" Aliasara said from her side.

"Blue newcomers. Bluecomers." Aida sighed and shook her head. "They say I don't have to sleep, but I've definitely found I get spacey, irritable, and distracted when I don't at least take the odd nap for too many days. I mean, more spacey, irritable, and distracted than usual."

Aliasara laughed and her full, gorgeous smile broke out. Aida hugged her impulsively. "Who are these people anyway? I vaguely remember Fallon saying something about them waaay back when in Ocyl's court when I saw one."

"Munes from the Collective on Dost," Viviana said, gliding close to Aida's other side. Aida turned. With her arm still around Aliasara's shoulders so she felt Aliasara tense as the other woman approached. Viviana and Aliastro might think they had smoothed over any feathers from earlier, but clearly Aliasara still felt a bit ruffled.

"Got a song and dance to sing about them?" Aida snapped, taking a cue from Aliasara's tension.

To Viviana's credit and Aida's annoyance, Viviana laughed and dropped to a flawless curtsy. "If you wish I will perform all I know of their history and custom as a comedy or tragedy. Clothed or nude, at your preference."

Flustered a bit by a hot flash of memory to their group dalliance less than an hour ago in the tent, Aida spoke quickly. "No nudity or clothing needed. I mean, just give me the short, version. Non-musical is fine. That'll be plenty."

Viviana bowed her head elegantly and looked Aida in the eye as she spoke. As she did, something that had been bothering Aida about Viviana and Alerestro both somewhere deep down in her subconscious suddenly launched to the surface of her mind like a beach ball held underwater and released: though ever warm, polite, pleasant, and lighthearted, not the tiniest glint of gaiety or joy ever reflected in their eyes.

"A couple centuries ago, a group of Dynasts came together seeking to create a perfect society away from the divisions and strife that riddle other verses. In the process, they decided that knowing gender, skin tone, and name instantly created separations between individuals. So, thus, starting at age ten, they adorn the robes and veils to become members of the collective, known only by the distinct jewelry they wear."

"Utopists, great," Aida said, groaning inwardly. Having lived in a variety of communes herself when she was younger, her memories were littered with the hopeful ideals that birthed them and the realities of human nature and motivation that killed every one of them turn. "And that would explain their voices. They all try to talk the same tone to make it harder to identify exactly who or what each of them are."

Viviana smiled. "My Dynast is a quick one. Indeed, they seek total equality through total anonymity."

"What about skills?" Aida said, increasingly annoyed at Vivana's pleasantness since her notice that the woman's eyes never got in on the act. "Leaders? How do you know who can do what or who's in charge if things go bad?"

"One of the first things they do on the Decanth when they change their jewelry, and thus names and identities, is to elect new leaders."

"Reset everything? So whatever you said or did gets wiped clear every ten years?" Aida thought for a minute. "I'll be the crime-rate soars right before one of those."

"I had not heard such, but as you said I can see how it would be so. Also cleverly surmised." Viviana said, nodding deeply to Aida before continuing. "I was there for the celebrations leading up to the Decanth a few years ago with my chain holder. They open up to outsiders for a few weeks prior and let us say that the festivities can grow quite... extensive and encompassing."

"I'll bet. If you get a clean slate soon might as well get it a bit messy first." Aida frowned and watched as the Mune relocated themselves. "Reminds me of a joke: a priest goes up to a tribe of Native Americans and tells the chief 'If you convert to Christianity and become baptized, all your past sins will immediately be forgiven.' The chief thought for a moment, then said 'all of them?' The priest nodded enthusiastically. 'Everything from your birth in sin straight up to the moment of baptism is cleansed. Will you join me down at the river and be baptized?' The chief thought a moment longer, then shook his head. 'I think I'm going to wait a bit.'"

She stood there grinning like an idiot waiting for them to laugh until she realized everything from 'Native Americans' to 'Christianity' to 'sin' was probably all a long string of idioms. While they smiled politely, she scrambled for something, anything to steer the conversation elsewhere.