As the man shouted something that sounded like “matches and mangos” I truly began to realize how little I knew about the world outside the Empire. Or really how little I even knew about that. As he bowed to me and put the net down, I replied in the same way, but even in that I noticed a difference. The way we clasped our hands, where we bowed from, similar, but still not quite the same…
There were rumors about a formation built into the walls of the Empire, a spell cast upon all it’s citizens. A way to protect us from spies, intrigue, and the seductions of the outside world. None of us could understand the foreign tongue. Not that we never learned it, or couldn’t study materials in their languages. We weren’t ABLE to understand it. Supposedly court scholars had a place they could that was warded against this Imperial Formation, but even now I could feel it’s lingering effects. I could feel the chi being drawn to my ears, even as I tried to understand his words. But I was no longer a citizen of the Empire, I was no longer under His Majesty’s command. I was no longer within his Formation...And so I seized control of my chi, dragging it away with concerted effort.
The warbling bubbles of his speech once more turned to incoherent sounds…But sounds at least that resembled some sort of language. I must’ve looked pained for he looked at me with concern, beckoning me closer, showing open hands. I hesitated for a moment, looking down at myself, looking around…But if I wanted answers, if I wanted to see people once more… This was an opportunity. So I stepped out onto the waves, nimbly hopping from crest to crest, his eyes widening all the while. My shroud letting me glide smoothly over the waves, taking his hand in mine, and stepping onto his boat. I noticed at once, just how much larger this man was than me, his hand a full two of my own, his head more than a head higher.
I offered a smile to the bewildered man, who seemed shocked by my casual use of movement arts. Maybe there were no cultivators where he was from? Either way, he seemed wary of me now, but settled back towards the rear of his boat, taking up the wooden rudder. He hesitated for a moment, but pointed to a pair of oars in the middle of the boat, his voice lilting down then up, head tilted. I nodded, settling myself in, grasping one oar, even as he took the other. He held the rudder in place with one powerful looking thigh muscle, even as I watched him dip his oar.
I joined in the efforts, and nearly immediately threw us off course. My muscles tensing, my oar dipping in, digging into the water with unusual strength, sending us into a dizzying spin on the wobbling vessel. He cried out in alarm, holding up his hands, shaking his head. I couldn’t understand the words, but definitely felt the meaning of his shouting. I had definitely underestimated my strength, and the effect my push would have on the water. But that also led me to an idea…I put my oar down, my cheeks dotted pink, and gestured for him to do the same. Waiting till he obliged, looking at me curiously, I reached out to the water, dipping my fingers in at the front of the boat. I felt it’s motions trying to push us to the shore, to send us tumbling and whirling in motion. Exerting my Vessel, letting the chi flood out into the waters around the boat, I guided the motion, opening my eyes to see where his rudder was now pointing, pushing us along the path, pushing against the rear of the boat. A slow swelling crash of the wave at first. Driving us forward, drawing out a spluttering cry from the man once more. Another wave, a gentler crash, the heaving crest just before it turns to white foam. I breathed deeply, and another, building waves, pushing against the boat. I sat upright once more, looking to him, and nodding. A hum from my lips as I exhaled, the drumming from my nails and fingertips beating out a steady tattoo. And with it, my Vessel’s energies dipped and swelled, riding the waves now, letting them guide us.
The experienced fisherman felt the movement of the boat, his eyes wide and his jaw agape. He quickly righted our course, guiding us, even as I breathed, pushing and pulling in waves, slow breaths guiding the vessel without either of us having to pick up a paddle. Folded too was a sail against the side, but with my chi enveloping the waters around us, I slowly began to guide us towards our destination.
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As I grew more proficient in the use of my energies, I smiled to myself, straining my Vessel at the start, till finally momentum was built, and I was learning with every breath and wave. I learned to guide us over the swells, smoothing them as we passed, changing the patterns when he gestured one way or the other. Within the hour though I grew tired, and was forced to pull my energies back. He nodded as I slumped down, and unfurled the sail, letting the winds guide us as I closed my eyes once more. Churning the energies in my Vessel, breathing in the watery energy all around. Even tugging on the winds pushing against my body as we traveled faster over the sea. His guidance was smooth, sure, almost instinctual. I could feel his gaze upon my back, studying me as I recuperated.
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Once more I had that sore feeling of strain in my Vessel, and I chided myself for getting caught up in my exploration of my abilities. Who knew where exactly I was going, or how much strength I would need to show once there? So I settled, striving to pull as much energy inside myself as I could, swaying with the rhythm of the boat, humming a tune under my breath.
I nearly jumped in surprise when he started humming back, a deep baritone from his chest, building and swelling to a rising song. With every note rising our boat seemed to gain speed, with every pause for breath, our sail fluttered and bellowed. I glanced back, eyes wide now, as I felt the chi churning inside him as well. He was a cultivator, his very song guiding his ship along the seas. Grinning, I listened carefully, eyes fluttering as I tried to sense the patterns, the flows, the Nature of his Way. He nodded to me after a third repeat of the tune, and this time I followed along. Lending my voice, wordless, but matching his tune. The boat practically leapt forward as the pair of us joined voices in melody, one dotted with words, and the other without. No longer was I hoarding my energies, but letting them trickle in and out, taking in the free chi of the air with every breath, and letting it out to join his melody. His song of winds on the waves, and the creak of the boat.
His voice dimmed after a time, slowing the tempo, and dipping into a calmer melody, shaking his head as I attempted to match the new tune. Gesturing and saying something, guiding my gaze to the side of the boat. I looked over it carefully, eyes piercing through the clear waters, to witness strange growths underneath us. What looked like flowers, mushrooms, a veritable forest of plant and animal life in the waters beneath us.
I stared in wonder as he guided us through the channels of this reef, taking in these sights, this beauty, this myriad of colors. I loosed a squeak of surprise as a strangely sleek fish jumped from the water not ten spans away. It was larger than I was, with a flat tail, and a strange fin on it’s back. “Matsya” he says again, pointing to it. Then he smirks, and points to me, “Matschyango.” I tilt my head once more, trying to match the cadence of it, “MatchYango?” He laughs deeply, the voice carrying across the waters, and shakes his head, repeating himself. We go back and forth a few times before he nods, and I sigh, finally having managed to satisfy him in imitation.
“Matschyango.” “Hmm?” I look up at his word for me once more, following his extended finger. In the distance I can see more bobbing shapes, boats, with people in them, some with nets, some furling sails, others at the oars, and all headed back to a large gathering of shapes along the curved inlet of the beach before us. He stands in his vessel then, waving his oar over his head, and shouting something. I can’t be too conceited, but imagine it is most likely about the strange woman he found stepping out of the sea. I have to stifle a grin to myself at the thought, and look around curiously. A few others shout back, and soon we’re among several vessels shouting and pointing and staring at me.
Blushing, I wave back hesitantly, nodding my head at them in turn. By the time we’ve arrived at the wooden docks, our boat tied off among a dozen others, there’s already a small gathering of people. All of them with varying looks, hair-styles, draped in strange garments. The material almost looks like hide, but light from the way it sways with the gentle breeze. The buildings around are colorfully dyed in reds, purples, greens, blues, yellows all alike, grouped together in their shades, contrasted with the undyed ships and docks of wood.
The man who brought me here steps out of the boat, and gestures offering me a hand. I follow suit, leaning on him lightly, and standing before them all. I bow deeply to them all, and point to myself, “Mae Nam…” Then I glance at the fisherman who brought me here, and say, “Matschyango.” There is a murmur, and several looks of bewilderment, then a woman, just as tall as the man who brought me here, steps out and slaps him on the arm, berating him in a tone familiar to all who’ve ever met a mischievous or scatterbrained husband.
Laughter erupts from the crowd as the woman shouts at the man, even as he ducks his head and offers me a rueful grin and a bow. I guess I’m not Matschyango after all….