Soren woke to a soft chime so distant she thought she was still dreaming. It took her a moment to open her eyes as they had been crusted over with sleep. Her first real sensations were that of sore muscles and a headache. Her body screamed for water and her lips were chapped and peeling. She felt her teeth with her tongue and tried to wet her cracked lips. As her room came into view, she spotted the basin across from her bed. Ripping back her coverings Soren lunged at the bowl. The water was fragrant and had a strange oily substance on top that made her mouth tingle as she drank. She was on her third gulp when someone entered the room holding a marbled platter. It was only then that Soren realized she was drinking the water she’d bathed in the night before. The middling man had not yet seen Soren and deftly set the platter down with an immutable look. Soren was reminded of one of the young women from Cottonwood that enjoyed giving orders to the others.
The haughty look plastered on his face turned aghast in vaudeville fashion as they stared at one another. A small trickle of oily water fell from Soren’s chin as he raced over to her. He chittered despondently at Soren for a long time and gestured violently at the bowl Soren was drinking out of then back at a pitcher atop the platter he had just brought in.
“Yeah I know, I know” she said, before correcting herself impatiently,
“Bica, Bica.” She said dumbly. Finally, Soren translated enough of his speech to understand he had brought her something to drink. She managed a thanks before he gestured again and made for the door. He left shaking his head and muttering under his breath.
Soren turned her attention to the platter. It was filled with things both familiar and exotic. She recognized many of the herbs and spices her mother used in her cooking, could smell the cardamom and turmeric wafting off the food. There were steaming flatbreads stuffed with roots and mushrooms. Next to it was a large bowl of fruit, most of which Soren had never seen let alone tasted. There was also a large plate of steaming mushrooms seasoned with cinnamon and butter., The mushrooms were a size Soren didn’t know could exist. It was one massive mushroom carved into thin slices, their juice only now beginning to pool on the plate. A smaller bowl of nuts and dried Saguaro fruit cakes lay next to an even smaller bowl of honey to the other side of the fruit. Two steaming cups of tea bordered the large marble pitcher Soren now tentatively sniffed into.
The flushed liquid was of some fruit Soren had never tasted before. Thick and sweet it tasted almost like the peaches her father had once brought back from the Wilkin’s farm. Though there was something distinctly profuse and wonderful about it. After her first initial sip, she drank deeply, straight from the pitcher in long, heaving mouthfuls.
The man who’d brought the platter returned just as Soren was finishing the last pieces of flatbread. He looked visibly relieved to see Soren eating and drinking from the platter. She smiled at him and snatched one of the marble mugs of tea before he could take it with the rest of the platter. He spoke low and in a very thick accent. It took Soren a moment before she realized he was speaking Central.
“Meal… finish?” he asked. Soren nodded and smiled at the man who in turn gave a curt nod though did not smile back. The man took the platter and left Soren without another word. She took her mug and made her way to the far end of the room where a window looked out over all of Enki’s Wedge. The view was astounding and from her height Soren could see all the way to the central pillar of Susura. She could make out the wedges to either side of her as well. To her left Soren saw marble cut into the shapes of giant clouds with massive aviaries supporting walkways or creating the railings of bridges with their wings. Impossibly huge marble Dromeacranes lifted their long “S” shaped necks to create the supports for great bridges. Below, thoroughfares packed with tan haired throngs flowed like strange rivers into the horizon. To the right, great pillars of marble had been cut to imitate flames to such accuracy Soren was sure the marble moved of its own accord. Each of these wedges were built in a similar fashion so that a main thoroughfare led from the Central Pillar, all the way to the back where the wedges were widest. Along the outer wall of the wedge were the Alcazar’s, where the twelve patrons of each deity presumably resided.
Soren, lost in the grandeur hadn’t realized someone was standing next to her until the sleek figure moved to face her. Soren started like a cat, muscles flexing of their own accord. She was shocked at the speed of her own reactions. The long days of running in the desert and eating the Shukkar fruit had done its work. Her body was transformed, truly it looked like a smaller version of the one in front of her. Frayyala stood relaxed in silent condemnation. It was a long time before she said anything and when she did, she spoke in her native tongue.
“I should be dead. I should be caste out. At the very least I should have had my fingers taken.” She looked at Soren for a long moment and Soren struggled to understand any of the long list of emotions she felt seething through the woman.
“There is no word in Yunalese for ‘Thank you’. Is something I learn from my sister. I owe you my life, my caste and my fingers.” She said the last part with a small smile.
“Freyyala, I didn’t do anything.” Soren replied.
“you did. Otherwise neither of us would have awoken this morning.” They both sat in silence for a while, Freyyala looked intently at Soren who couldn’t meet the woman’s gaze. Finally Freyyala said,
“Today I begin to teach you.”
“Teach me what?”
“To fight.” she said simply, then began to walk out the room.
“Come, we have much to do.” she said.
"Wait I'm supposed to read..." Soren trailed off at the look Freyyala gave her. The woman turned around and face Soren before saying,
"The Matron has spoken of this to me. While I don't agree, she has made it clear what her intentions are. You may begin your reading after we are finished. follow me."
With that they were off. They passed down the long corridor and back down the stairs. In another wing of the Alcazar, Soren was led down a hallway guarded by empty plates of strange armor Soren had never seen before. the were made of an blue tinted metal with flourishes and accoutrements both beautiful and dangerous. On the walls, weapons of impossible use and construction lined all available space. Finally, the two entered a room off to the side that was well lit. The floor was a strange wood that stood out in the stone city and Soren found it oddly springy as she walked on it. She tried to look around but Freyyala cut her off by taking her by the chin and forcing Soren to look into her eyes.
“Before we begin you must learn the ritual. Follow me.” She turned to the side where large marble basins lined the wall. The first basin was filled with soft sand not of the desert. Freyyala flattened her hands into blades then struck into the sand with force. With each strike Freyyala said,
“Bica, En, Za, Shu, Pa, Ke, Ser, Ead, Sha, Sil, Arc, Bak.” Then stopped and looked at Soren she held up a finger in one hand and two in the other.
“twelve times.” She said and Soren nodded before Freyyala finished saying,
“for now.” It took Soren a couple tries to memorize the words for each strike. It wasn’t until she had really gotten the hang of it that she looked over at what was filling the other basins. The one next to her looked like desert sand, the one next to that, tiny pebbles. The pebbles grew larger until they were rocks, then a basin of pure marble with two hand shaped indentations. Finally at the very end, Soren was surprised to see a basin filled with water then another filled with some type of oil and then finally an empty basin. Finally on her tenth attempt Freyyala stopped her and nodded saying,
“everyday we do this, maybe someday you work up to next basin.”
“How do I move up to the next basin?” Soren asked. With a smile Freyyala replied,
“Your fingers will tell you. Now we begin with moving.” For the next hour they stretched every muscle Soren possessed. Beginning with her head, hands and feet. The stretches Freyyala had her do started with her wrists, making circles, first in one direction then the other. Then they moved onto to elbows making larger circles with her forearms, then her shoulders. At first Soren only grasped that she was waving her arms around. Then she began to focus on Freyyala and noticed the woman intently moving each of her limbs. Soren couldn’t understand what she was doing differently but knew it was. She knew they weren’t doing the movements the same yet she couldn’t put her finger on what the difference was. Finally, they finished stretching with some hip opening exercises Soren thought were profoundly painful to the point of cruelty. They stepped over and Freyyala gave her a small cup of water,
“Drink” she said, and Soren did. She was sweating profusely and shaky, her body demanded more water. She was about to say so when Freyyala took the small cup from her and led her back to the middle of the room.
“Now, we reel the cloth.” She said as if intoning a spell. Soren watched the woman as she bent her knees, though her feet didn’t separate much further than her shoulders. She kept her back very straight as she put one hand on her hip and took her right hand and began to wave it in a large circle. It looked as though she was exaggeratedly waving at someone in the distance. It took her a moment before Soren was able to imitate the movement. The movement of the arm caught her eye at first but she quickly realized the movement was in her wrist as well. Twenty minutes after that Soren realized the movement was also in the woman’s shoulder and finger tips. Then she realized it was through the woman’s entire body. Her hips twisted in a strange figure eight movement. Her weight shifted from one foot to the other though there seemed to be an unseen tension running through her body. Soren imagined the woman’s body moving a bit like stretched taffy she had seen in town with her father. As the candy was stretched then relaxed then stretched again. Soren laughed out loud, she couldn’t help it. It looked for all the world like she was waving her arms around in breezy abandon. Freyyala stopped and looked at Soren.
“Come” she said, and Soren came to stand next to the woman.
“Touch my face.” she said. Soren was a bit taken aback but assumed the woman had a reason so she reached out to touch her. Before she came anywhere close, Freyyala used the same motion to bat her hand easily away.
“Again.” She said, and Soren again tried to stick out a finger and touch the woman’s face. Again, her hand was batted away at the wrist long before she had a chance to get anywhere near Freyyala.
“Again.” She repeated. This time Soren was ready and she shot her hand out faster than she thought she should be able to. Again, she was reminded of the changes the Shukkar fruit had made on her. Still, even with her incredible speed, Freyyala swatted her hand away as easily as she would a fly.
“Again.” Freyyala intoned. Soren obliged her. Again, and again and again. Before long Soren’s arms truly began to ache in earnest. Her wrists and forearms were quickly developing into a mulled batch of bruises and lumps. Yet, as she watched Freyyala bat her away again and again, with impossible speed, flowing as though she were made of water, Soren began to notice the way the rest of the woman’s body moved as well. When she would bat Soren’s hand away, it wasn’t just her arm that moved, the woman’s entire body reacted to the motion. Her hips twisted, and her weight would shift with the movement. Eventually, the woman stopped and rose out of her stance.
“now, see?” Soren wasn’t sure she did but she nodded anyway. Her forearms and wrists burned fiercely with small bruises. Freyyala nodded and said,
“watch and follow.”
Soren felt like she had been doing a pretty good interpretation before Freyyala finally stopped an hour later. Soren stopped too but she gestured for her to continue. She tried to continue on, but realized quickly that it was much more difficult to do while she wasn’t watching Freyyala. Soren lost track of her hip movement and the whole motion of ‘reeling’ became so confused that she had to stop, often. After a while of this Soren finally put her arm down.
“My arm is getting tired.” she said. Freyyala laughed then looked at Soren’s arms disparagingly.
“Yes, that is not surprising.” She said.
“Fine, use other arm.” For the next hour Soren imitated Freyyala’s ‘reeling’, this time with her other arm which she found to be just as if not more difficult. Soren simply couldn’t understand how such a seemingly simply motion could be so difficult. Again, it didn’t take long before Soren felt like she was simply flailing her arms about. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t merge her gangly thrashings with Freyyala’s gracefully fluid movements. The sun had crested the top of Susura and had just dipped below the other side of the city when Freyyala finally stopped. Someone had brought food at some point but Soren hadn’t noticed who or when. Freyyala motioned for her to eat and Soren did without much prompting. She was surprised at how hungry she had become since breakfast and the simple meal of flatbread, olives and oranges was satisfying if simple.
After she had finished eating, Soren looked up to find Freyyala studying her intently. She was a bit taken aback by the intensity of her stare. Yet as quickly as she had seen it, the look was gone. Only an odd feeling of wonder and anticipation emanated from the woman. Soren looked away then, feeling as though she had just intruded on something she didn’t understand. Freyyala spoke then,
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“You know my feelings, don’t you?” she asked, though it wasn’t a question. Soren simply looked down at her now empty plate.
“It is common for those born in Enki’s house. I too know the feelings of others.” She said.
“you are in the house of Enki?” Soren said, surprised. Freyyala did not speak of her patron god and she had no tattoo for Soren to look at.
“No. my patron is Eadra. I am of The Bridge Between Two Worlds. Though I was born under the week of water, and Enki gifted me with this ability to read others feelings. It has proved useful over the years. When I was your age though, it often created confusion for me, and I thought for a time that my patron was Enki. After my Sur name journey, I realized this was not the case.”
Soren had never heard Freyyala say so much at once and at first, was taken aback simply by the amount of speech and in Central no less. Then she took in the meaning of the words and a million questions popped into her head all at once. Freyyala evidently could tell because she put up her hands in a placating gesture.
“Please. I cannot explain. You will find out eventually.”
The flood of questions died on Soren’s tongue; a bitter feeling of yearning crept into her mind. It was at this moment that something clicked in Soren’s mind and she suddenly grasped at a vast flood of possibility like a drowning woman. Was that feeling of bitter yearning hers? Or was that something she was feeling from Freyyala, and how could she tell the difference? She realized with sudden astonishment the wealth of feelings she had experienced her whole life, may have been, and most likely were, the feelings of those around her. The thought made her reel with confusion and suddenly her stomach was clenching and bile flooded her throat.
“Freyyala?” she asked hesitantly.
“yes?” she replied with equal hesitation.
“How do I know the feelings I have are mine and not someone elses?” Freyyala looked at the young girl with earnest compassion in her eyes.
“Exactly.”
The single word made Soren’s stomach lurch and she instantly lost her lunch onto the platter of eaten food. Freyyala stood quickly and poured Soren a small glass of water. She took it and washed her mouth out before taking another small cup of water to sip slowly. Finally, after a long moment of silence Freyyala continued,
“The only way to really know is to know yourself. Know how you feel when no one is around, and keep your mind focused on how you feel. For me, it is easiest in crowds. Your mind cannot process so many feelings at once. When it is only one other person, very hard. Sometimes I don’t know, but I was much older than you when I realized this. Also, you northerners know nothing of Controls or how to use them.”
Soren’s mind was reeling with all the implications. She worried none of her feelings had been her own. But surely some of them had. Still, she involuntarily began retracing all the moments in her life. There was a nagging sense she was being pushed and pulled by those around her, a lack of control that frightened her terribly. She wondered vaguely if that was why Freyyala worked so hard to be impassive all the time. Perhaps she too could learn how to be emotionless. She thought about Freyyala and she thought of her mother and she thought of such stoicism. That it may be required of her scared her more than the realization she could feel other people’s emotions. Freyyala must have noticed this because she stood up at that moment and said,
“Come, I will show you a place where you can be alone, in a crowd, you will see.”
Soren followed her out of the training room. As they exited the room Soren took note of two figures stationed outside the room. They looked a bit like the scouts who brought them into the city only more heavily armored. Each wore thickly woven silk vests and strong leather pants with well-made boots and vanguards. Though the style was vastly different from Central fashion they looked formattable and more than capable. The uniform was complimented with a helmet of hardened leather and two swords crossed their backs. Each held a large Guandao as well, though Soren had never seen such a weapon and knew not its name. She followed quietly behind Freyyala as they passed the exquisite central statue of the clam and massive Opal.
They exited the Alcazar and walked quickly down the long stairs. At the bottom, Freyyala passed under the entryway to Matron Litaelim’s property and took an immediate right turn. They passed under large bridges that blocked out most of the days remaining light. They passed large throngs of people and snuck through crowded markets selling untold oddities most of which Soren had never seen, smelled or heard before. She tried to stop in front of a stall will tall boxes. The peddler was selling what appeared to be snakes with two heads. The man stooped behind a low counter made of black marble. The snakes lazily crossed over one another in endless coils of slick iridescent scales. Soren stared into the counter as one of the curling serpents began to raise both its heads and gaze right back at her. Before she could even begin to ask, Freyyala had grabbed her gently but firmly by the arm and ushered her through the market without a word.
Finally, they passed under an arch carved to look like water and fire swirling together. It was one of the most beautiful things Soren had ever seen. As the arch rose, she lost track of where water ended and fire began. The sculpture expressed the similarities between the two opposing elements in a way that told a story. Though it was a story Soren had never known. Just as she thought she was understanding what the Arch was saying, the pair moved through its awnings. As they passed under the arch Soren felt a strange humidity, uncommon in the dry desert. It tickled the back of her neck and gooseflesh prickled along her arms. For the first time she took in Zabi’s Wedge. Flames carved into the marble licked out in every direction and where Enki’s Wedge had images of water, Zabi’s Wedge was inhabited with fire and creatures made of fire. Flame drenched birds spat marbled fire to create the trusses of bridges while strange reptiles of marble with long plumages rested above to create railings. The marble was of varying color, much of it white or pink, yet the flames were often made of a deep red that looked to be made of frozen blood. Freyyala took Soren down another alley that fed into a sloping tunnel.
The tunnel seemed to twist and flames had been carved to look as though they were licking in a spiral pattern. They seemed to eat the marble from the inside out like a cut log in a watchfire. As they walked, Soren ran her hand along the marble. The stone was warm to the touch and felt a living creature to Soren.
“Do not touch.” Freyyala said without looking back at her. She did not explain why yet Soren obeyed her. Something in the stone felt off and she couldn’t shake the feeling that it or something, was watching her. The other end of the tunnel fed out into a massive promenade. The first thing Soren noticed were the size of the people walking around. Nearly everyone was massive. At least, massive for Yunadaya. None were quite as big a Coratel, yet they were certainly larger than the average Yunadaya who were typically lithely and thin.
Freyyala stopped in the exact center of the Prominade. People much larger than her bustled and jostled around her in a mass of moving bodies that was claustrophobic and disorienting. The older woman looked down at Soren and spoke in a voice just loud enough to be heard over the din.
“what do you feel?” she asked.
Soren thought for a moment. She was surprised to realize she didn’t feel much of anything. Strange emotions flitted through her but then disappeared just as fast.
“It’s strange. I… I don’t understand, the feeling’s gone before I know what it is.” Freyyala looked down at Soren inquisitively.
“That, that is not what I expected. Dreamers, even strong ones, only hold three or four emotions at once. A crowd like this, it…” She trailed off. She stared at Soren for a long moment, and even in the large crowd Soren suddenly felt as though Freyyala was the only person in the world. A feeling of strange stillness and acute perception fell onto Soren and with tunnel-vision she suddenly saw Freyyala’s deepest feelings and swelling emotions flayed out like a bead of light split into its prismatic colors. She was lost in the depths of the woman’s emotions and suddenly she understood Freyyala on a level she had never known anyone, not even herself. It was as if a second set of eyes had opened and she was looking at the woman for the first time again.
“Come, let us go back.” She said. Soren didn’t reply but followed quietly, trying to ignore the flood of emotional information emanating from Freyyala. Soren could almost make out the moments that were the emotional makeup of Freyyala, yet they were just beyond her grasp. The emotions themselves were vivid and deep. She knew just how angry or happy or cruel or compassionate Freyyala could be. It was like seeing every limit of someone’s emotional capacity.
When they had left the promenade behind and returned to Enki’s Wedge. Soren looked up at Freyyala saying,
“I don’t know why you feel this… hhmm, this feeling of finding something you thought was lost. When you look at me.” Freyyala stopped in the middle of the street and looked at Soren,
“Who told… How… How do you… I am not feeling that now.”
“I, in the crowd. I saw something. Like, a bunch of different feelings but all at the same time. It was a lot. You feel a lot! But when you look at me, that seems to come up again and again.”
“Soren, I, I am not the right person to talk to you about this….” There was a long pause as Freyyala simply looked dumbfounded.
“We need to speak with Matron Litaelim. Do not speak of this to anyone. Please.”
“Wait, what? I passed through large crowds when we first came to Susura and they didn’t seem so bad. And I’ve been around crowds before this. Now anytime I pass someone on the street I’m feeling something differen-”
“Soren, please wait.” Freyyala hissed, yet Soren was becoming truly agitated and continued not hearing her,
“That person over there is exhausted, ashamed and desperate. That woman is worried about, something. she’s also ashamed and she’s afraid like when papa yelled at me. I don’t know what they’re worried about but it seems very important. And that man over the-” Freyyala cut her off again.
“Soren. Look at me. I fear I have opened you to one of Enki’s boons. Come over here.” She ushered them into a secluded alcove neatly tucked into the side of two buildings. Soren looked at her inquisitively
“Before today you’ve never been able to see the feelings of others?” Freyyala asked without preamble.
“No, I… no.” The woman looked down at Soren.
“Never?” she insisted. Soren thought for a moment and before she could remember a specific instance Freyyala spoke.
“Your mind made them your own. You believed the feelings were yours and your mind made sense of them.” This made some sense to Soren yet It also seemed like Freyyala was trying to convince herself as well. Her mind reeled that she could have been feeling other people’s emotions.
“Now you know they’re not your feelings. In recognizing this, you will begin to develop this boon. We must go to the Matron Litaelim at once.”
By the time they reached The Alcazar it had grown quite dark. Soren was surprised to find the city was much better lit than she would have expected. The lack of doors on any buildings meant light from inside the houses flooded the streets in trapezoidal effulgence. Inside, the houses were lit with bright oil lamps with polished metal behind them to focus the light outward. Soren realized it bespoke the Yunadaya’s attentiveness to one another. The wavering lights made the streets and marbled sculptures move with lifelike efficacy. An uncharacteristic life overtook the city as dusk quickly fell in the cavernous reaches of Susura. Soren was repeatedly surprised to find dusky statues were in fact solid marble and not some imposing figure stood at attention. This became even more disorienting when she did in fact pass living guards at the entrance of the Alcazar only to realize after the fact that they were indeed alive.
Matron Litaelim was seated in a large alcove in the eastern wing of the Alcazar. It was a long walk down a twisting passageway. As she walked, Soren noticed that though well lit, she couldn’t place the source of the light. It was much too steady to be a flame and Soren couldn’t smell any smoke. She hadn’t the time to process this before she and Freyyala were ushered into the alcove where The Matron was seated eyes closed, legs crossed with her hands gently rested on bent knees. Freyyala bowed low and Soren followed suite though unsure the old woman was awake let alone aware of their presence. Soren began to approach the seated woman before Freyyala stopped her with an outstretched hand motioning her to wait.
Though she needn’t of bothered as at that same moment Matron Litaelim’s eyes opened and regarded the two women with the keen bemusement of someone who’d experienced a lifetime.
“Ead’Frey’yala, Soren Pickett. Welcome home. I understand you’ve been to Zabi’s wedge this evening. How is the market?” Freyyala bowed low in response and spoke first.
“Matron, Good evening. Soren and I had thought to-” Litaelim cut her off in a quiet voice,
“To the place where you found silence in the flood?” Freyyala lowered her head in a placating gesture as she said,
“Matron, I, it… it was a mistake. I fear Soren has somehow awoken one of her Controls.” Soren looked at Litaelim who smiled at her before cocking an eyebrow at Freyyala. Soren smiled back though she wasn’t sure why, she wasn’t even looking at her.
“Ead’Frey’yala, you may leave us for the evening. I believe you are correct, this boon may be a little outside your ability. You will continue her training in the morning.” Freyyala bowed once more saying,
“Yes, Honored Matron Litaelim. There is one more thing. If I may,” and Soren felt the concern emanating from both of them as the Matron motioned her to approach. Freyyala dipped to the woman ear and whispered something Soren couldn't hear. Yet she watched as the Matrons emotions changed in intensity before abetting completely. Then Freyyala backed away and bowed before leaving.
Suddenly, Soren and Litaelim were alone and Soren was unsure what to do. Before she could begin to worry, Litaelim spoke,
“So, it seems you’ve frightened the silent Ead’Frey’yala.” Soren was struck by the harsh words, her words.
“I…” she sputtered, but Litaelim simply smiled and shrugged saying.
“I am sorry, that was unkind. You must understand, I know your gifts, at least some of them. And you do not. It is an unfair position. Still, to tell you all you are capable of without showing you how to use it would be careless to the point of malicious.” Soren nodded at this as if she understood. In a way, as she examined the older woman’s emotions she thought maybe she did understand, at least a bit. A short silence fell before Litaelim said,
“Perhaps this is a conversation for a more private setting.” She said seeming to make a decision on the spot.
“Thank you Soren, you have given me much to think about. I will have to consider your words this evening. For now, I want you to practice controlling this new boon of yours. When you sense an emotion that you know, I want you to try and identify the root of that emotion. This will become clearer as you begin your study of emotions and our capacity to feel and inflict them. If you come across an emotion you do not recognize, please try to remember all the other emotions with it and we will try to parse these feelings out together.”
Soren could still see concern in the woman’s eyes and now felt the indecisive emotions flowing off the woman as if she were letting Soren see them. There was something comforting in the gesture. Having a plan, a strategy for handling these new experiences was further than she had been. Though she had many questions, Soren resigned herself to wait and bowed low saying,
“Good Evening, Matron Litaelim.” In her mother’s language. The old woman simply nodded and closed her eyes, returning to her previous posture as if nothing had happened at all.