The other side of the looking glass -- Scatha and Barrett

[Ashari]

Nevamaier giggled as Scatha pulled a face.

"Yes, the Rafao knows you are here," she said simply, and continued walking parallel to the long stretch of tables. The passed a table that had a necklace on it which the young girl stopped to adjust. "Not in the right spot, Ionis was down here recently, I still haven't gotten everything back to how it ought to be." Nevamaier smiled and then continued on.

There was a peculiarity to how she walked, as if she had too many joints, or not enough, but it was definately too smooth. If snakes had legs this is how they might walk. However, it was still humanesque, even if it felt somehow wrong. "Hmm? Yes, your friend is correct in a way. I am the guardian. But, I am also Nevamaier. It is hard to tell which I was first, now, though. Nevamaier, I imagine." She shrugged, and the whip tried to slip off her shoulder, but she caught it.

"I've served many of the Rafaos. It is my task - my burden, and a great honor." She spoke forward, but her voice carried easily behind her, as if she knew how the stones would shift the echoing. "If someone tried to steal something I would kill them," she said simply.

Barrett felt a bit of reprieve as he lessened the energy he was using. "You need to learn more of our magicks, stranger, or you will exhaust yourself here. You may lower your guards, I will attack you no further. My word is my promise, on pain of death." She continued down the length of the room with the pair behind her, and somewhat outside of their small bubble of light, as if she didn't need it to guide her. Taking a left hand turn after the tables she continued toward a wall, and then up a hallway that blended in oddly with the other stones. It was built so that it wasn't immediately noticeable, making someone who might get into the large chamber have a harder time leaving.

Up the hall they went, where they reached a dead-end. In her hand the young girl held a signet ring, which she pressed into a stone, and turned, causing for the very wall to shift infront of them, and slide out of their way. "Welcome to the palace. You may now consider yourselves guests in our great Lord's Household -a place where few venture." And here she did sparkle. In the full light she was like a living - moving - piece of art. Her body was perfection, and her childish round cheeks couldn't have been smoother, her dainty toes which were bare, glittered madly. "Come then, he awaits us."

And she did make haste through a winding set of halls not unlike the complexity of the palace back in the Citadel, all the while leaving dusty footprints behind. Within a good amount of time, they came upon more open halls, decorated with large tapestries and tilework. A wide open breezeway lead into an opulent sitting room bedecked with cushions on the floor and a low-lying table. "Mighty Rafao..." The young woman bowed deeply.

A man, for they knew he was a man via his build, lifted his head from a cup of steaming tea he was drinking. His eyes were beautifully decorated with elaborate black kholing and gold shadow above them and they were deep chocolate brown and regarded each Barrett and Scatha equally, and then turned to Nevamaier. "Playing as a child, now, Nev?"

The child lifted from her deep bow. "I present Barrett Threespan, an honoured guest to your esteemed house, and his body guard, Lady Scatha Ashtir."

The Rafao lifted himself from his cushions and looked at the couple. "Welcome." His accent was thick of the foreign land, but he spoke common, and that much could be thankful for. Garbed in a white toga reaching to his knees bedecked with golden embroidery and wearing wristbands of the actual metal adorned with gems, he looked every bit the part nobility, though very different from Erwin.

"They come via the portal from Furst Duke Erwin von zu Dort-Billigh - to discuss matters of state which apparently Isis could not handle." The girl smirked as if there were some sort of inside joke, Ionis kept his face plain. "And, to our guests, the Noble Rafao Ionis."

"Nevamaier, your presense is requested to stay, might you oblige?" The leader asked his servant, and she nodded, moving forward and turning to face them. "Do you drink tea?" Ionis asked. "And you carry papers in your hand with much tension, might you wish to hand them over?"

[Barrett]

Scatha's antics did not offend the Dortman so much as they worried him. Perhaps Erwin's choice was not the wisest, for such childish behavior would not do either at court or at war. Still, there were too many things occupying his mind to worry much about that just then.

Barrett had developed a method for evaluating subjects as complex as the guardian. It involved combining all of the little details into possible patterns of information rather than concentrating on any one piece of information. Each yes-or-no answer to one of his "panel" questions was like switch that narrowed down the options for other information he might need to theorize. Nevamaier's age. Her association with the Rafaos. Her presence as pure energy in the Aether. The oddness Barrett felt at trying to manipulate energy here. Credible sources from his research. Her oath.

Silently he observed and calculated and reclassified his findings. At the guardian's suggestion, he let his shields down almost entirely and let his construct-light fall into whatever pattern seemed most "comfortable" for the native energy.

"I would gladly be your student so that my manipulations are not so crass to the animus of this place."

Some other part of his mind was going over the lines of information he would need to pursue in the task ahead. What questions might the Rafao answer? Which might be better left until Barrett was more familiar with his host? Who else might be a good source?

The Querist trusted to his surface awareness and the guidance of Nevamaier and Scatha to travel the halls. So deep was he within his projected thoughts that he did not immediately notice that they had arrived. Instinct guided his body into a deep bow in synch with Nevamaier's. He was uncertain of the protocol for meeting a Rafao, so he thought it wisest to bow deeply as his guide did.

And so Barrett's first glimpse of Ionis was as he raised his eyes from the bow. The sight momentarily chased all of the gathering thoughts from the Querist's head. Instead he stood frozen to the spot, trying to take in the full presence that now welcomed them. He felt like one of the farmers in his uncle's stories, struck speechless in the presence of a Dragon or other fabled being. It had only vaguely seemed significant that he had dealings with great persons. Erwin had felt familiar somehow. Rioja had been strange, but in a way so very like Barrett that it didn't matter. Silk had been alarming, but still part of the fabric of the world Barrett knew. But Ionis mystified him completely. Perhaps it was the complexities the Rafao seemed to embody. Or perhaps it was something else. The masculine, regal form. The softer, relaxed curve of the garment and the musculature beneath. The mysterious air that was emphasized by the eyelining and golden paint.

Those eyes...

The breath caught in the young man's throat and the fancy words of greeting that he had considered vanished. He stood, staring, wondering why there was such an odd feeling in his stomach.

"Papers?"

[Ashari]

"The one's from Erwin..." Nevamaier said. "You tried to give them to me, remember? You've still got them."

[Barrett]

Barrett felt the carefully sealed letters in his hand. The introduction, the letter vouching for him as a trade guild representative. The connection set him back on the Kemn board that was his life, with all its wondrous, treacherous complications. And brought him straightaway back to his normal, rational self.

"Ah, yes. This one is official."
He held out the one that bore the Imperial Trade Guild seal.
"And this one personal, and more informative."
He offered Erwin's letter of introduction.

"And I would be most grateful for some tea. It might help clear my head somewhat from a day full of magickal exertion and my first trip via Portal."

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha followed Nevamaier along the treasury, bemused by the girl's self assurance; something isn't quite right here, and I can't work out what it is.... She watched Nevamaier move with fascination - the girl moved with a sinuous, fluid motion like, like... a snake! That's it - like a golden snake... Scatha pursed her lips, and gradually dropped back from Nevamaier, and closer to Barrett. Despite her engaging appearance, there was something not right about the girl, something... magical, and the more distance that Scatha could put between the two of them, the better. The girl's comments as they walked only confirmed Scatha's suspicions; I've served many of the Rafaos... Either the Rafao's didn't live very long, or else Nevamaier was a lot older than she looked - in which case, she was not what she appeared to be. Scatha decided to watch the girl-thing a lot more closely.

She and Barrett followed Nevamaier through several winding hallways until they came to a richly furnished chamber littered with cushions. Scatha blinked; either they prefer sitting on the floor, or someone has stolen all of the chairs.... There was a man there, clad in a white toga bedecked with golden embroidery; the first thing Scatha noticed about him were his eyes, full and dark and deep and lined with khol - just like Captain Josef, a memory whispered in her head. So... this is what a Rafao looks like. "Hello," she said with a smile, in response to his greeting, although she was somewhat bemused by the peculiar bowing motion that both Barret and the Nevamaier-thing made. She'd seen it several times in the palace, and had never understood why anyone had to lower their head to speak to someone else, especially if they were petite as she was. Besides, her aunts were always telling her to look at them when they were talking to her, even if it meant looking at something as awful as her aunt Morrigan.

She pursed her lips again as the man spoke to the Nevamaier-thing; playing as a child... so the Nevamaier-thing is something else. Hmm... I'm sorry I gave it my whip now. Ah well, no use crying over spilt milk... Scatha kept looking around the chamber, taking in her surroundings and eyeing up potential replacements for her whip as Barrett and the Rafao started talking about papers. Papers held very little interest for Scatha, until they contained amusing pictures, or were suitably soft enough for usage in the outhouse, and as the ones they were talking about didn't seem to meet either criteria she turned her attention back to the Nevamaier-thing. Scatha wrinkled her nose in puzzlement; "What exactly are you?" she asked with genuine interest, before realising that her comments could possibly be construed as being directed at the Rafao. "Not you, her, it, Nevamaier," she said hastily. "And yes, tea would be lovely, please." Good manners cost nothing, she reminded herself, and where there is tea it is likely there will be cake...

[Ashari]

"I've never taken on a student, Barrett Threespan," she said. It was a statement, and not a dismissal. Infact, she hadn't quite decided if she hated the sound of it. It might be amusing and for a creature of her age, amusement could be difficult to find, especially in a treasure room which very few people made a habit of finding their way into.

The Rafao motioned over to the numerous cushions which were seemingly casually tossed around the low-stationed table as he took the letters from Barrett. "Thank you, Master Threespan. Please, let us all sit and drink, and we can talk while eating." With a grace known only to dancers and aristocracy, Ionis moved to the spot where he had been reclining prior to their invasion of his private chambers. He adjusted his pillows and crossed his legs beneath the low table.

Nevamaier moved behind him, taking a seat alongside the leader leaving the opposite side of the table open for the newest arrivals to the desert palace. Small cups sat before each of the six settings at the table. They were the size of one's palm, and decorated with big-mouthed reptiles - reptiles which Barrett would immediately recognize from the depiction within one of the books he had read on Amun Rah. They were alligators, and were common on the banks of the Emphalis and in the Mu-At itself. To Scatha they looked like oversized and overtoothed versions of the newts that she might've found as a youth running around Dort.

The creature that took to Ionis's side hadn't yet answered Scatha's question, but as she took her seat she decided to. "I'm a Sandling," she said as if this might answer all of their questions about her and where she came from. She knew that the Querist would have many questions for scientific purposes. Scatha.. she would just be curious. "And I'm not an it.. or atleast, I wasn't. I'm a she, my soul is. I can look like a man though, were I so inclined." This was where it became difficult to explain exactly what she was, for her past and her present were horribly mixed, and the death which she had succumbed to was quite devastating to her soul, and yet she hadn't returned to the aether. "Were you to classify me, I'd be a ghost, but, I'm able to use sand to form myself."

Ionis sipped at his tea and read the letter that Barrett had given him. He had a very good understanding of what exactly Nevamaier was, and what she had been before her death. He knew of the punishment she had endured and how it had torn her. He also knew how indebted she was to the crown, and that she was promised to keep the treasure safe. A creature that could and would never just die. One that didn't need food or water to sustain it - she was the perfect guard. "Nevamaier, however, above all things, is a servant, and she is amazingly talented. Perhaps she will change for you later, if she wants." He looked up from the second parchment and then refolded them, placing them at his side beneath the table.

On top of the table there was a good collection of the cakes and sweets which Scatha had been so hoping for. Sweetened rice and honeyed crackers were in bowls. Dried figs, apricots, and dates were coated in sugar. A pastry shell rolled into a cylinder was filled with a soft white creme. The tea itself was strong and bitter, meant for waking the mind and body after sleeping. "So, Erwin would like for you both to stay here then, as you persue your.. tasks?" Ionis asked.

[Barrett]

Barrett had been afraid that Scatha's question might offend the creature. The directness of its answer was a pleasant surprise. A smile of amusement at the use of “direct methods” lit his face as he moved to sit opposite Ionis. The Dortman’s height and unfamiliarity with low seating (the cushions reminded him of his visit with the half giantess, Sekhmet) made him feel a bit awkward as he directed his muscular frame into the necessary position. It felt odd to be seated so in the new hose. He was still more used to thick leggings. The silk rubbed against the fabric of the cushions creating a pleasantly distracting sensation.

The reptilian pattern of the cups brought home the feeling of being in a strange place. They put Barrett in mind of the books he had studied about the creatures of this place and, invariably, the Thothos which were the reason for his trip. He let his fingers trace the cup’s rim as he continued the exchange with Nevamaier.

"An immortal then, and one with formidable powers, for you might choose any number of more or less lethal forms for the sand to take. But the who of you is largely defined by your prior, more mundane existence?”

Trapped in the treasury for all these many yahren? Her loyalty to the Rafao was either immense in life or has been forced upon her in the afterlife...

The querist did not follow that thought to its conclusions as his attention was once more turned upon Ionis. Barrett wondered what the man would make of Erwin’s hastily drafted letter. He watched the Rafao carefully for any sign of what the ruler’s true reaction to such a request was. Once more he was struck by the exotic look and the sinuous grace of the older man.

“It might be safest, although I would prefer less attention for our presence here. Assassins, at least some of them in the employ of the Secretary, have been taking an uncomfortable interest in my activities. The Furst Duke’s documents identify me as a representative of the trade guild. In truth my interests in how and why certain goods make their way from here to Citadel is a bit more complex.”

Barrett frowned. He was uncertain how to proceed in his quest. Erwin trusted Ionis, but Barrett could not just assume anything. The Furst’s warning about not all shadows being enemies came to mind. And there was the history of Ionis’s friendship with Anochrim, combined with Nevamaier’s vocal concern about the death of the Caesar.

He used the pause to take a long sip of from his tea. The sweets were of no interest to him, although he did enjoy the various aromas drifting up from the table.

“My ignorance of the traditions of your isle, while not complete, will prove an obstacle in my search for knowledge. Perhaps, if Nevamaier would not mind showing Scatha some more of the marvels of this place, you would have a few burns to help me with points of strategy regarding the trade goods and records which I seek?”

“Records” should be a strong enough deterrent for Scatha to wish to be elsewhere for this conversation. Or the lure of a tour from a Sandling. It is too early yet for her to learn our true objective here.

[wyrdgirluk]

A ghost? Scatha barely supressed a shiver, and took an involuntarily step back from the sandling... whatever one of those was. She peered at Nevamaier with some uncertainty; "The stories always said that you could see through ghosts... not that they exist. My father said that there were no such things." Yet here you are, talking to one... "you seem very... substantial for a ghost," she said finally, before flumping down in an undignified manner on the cushions. Much to her delight, one of them emitted a small, sharp farting noise as she settled, and Scatha grinned wickedly; "Oh, don't worry Barrett. The Rafao will think it's me, not you."

Scatha peered at the peculiar cups that the tea was served in; newts! Big toothed newts, at that. What was it my aunt Morrigan used to say when she was brewing tea - eye of frog, tail of newt, that was it... Scatha gingerly picked up a cup, blew on the liquid within it, and took a sip. Much to her surprise and delight, it was delicious - a little thin, perhaps, but otherwise extremely acceptable. Scatha took another noisy slurp, and settled back amongst the cushions to listen Barrett and the Rafao. She found the cushions extremely comfortable, but couldn't see the practise catching on in Dort; too many drafts coming in at the bottom of doors, for starters. And too many people traipsing in with mud and cow shite on their feet. You'd spend all your time washing them... Scatha picked out one of the peculiar sugar covered sweet-things on the table, sniffed it, and then popped it thoughtfully into her mouth. Mmm... delicious. Sweet, and fruity... and it has a stone! She was delighted; Scatha was a champion cherry stone spitter, and this was a new and exciting experience. She extracted the sucked stone from her mouth and held it up for inspection. "Not as good as a cherry stone," she mused, "but I bet you could get a good distance on it after a bit of practise." She popped the stone back into her mouth and rolled it around with her tongue, trying to gauge the lip shape that would get the best trajectory.

Her attention was suddenly drawn back to the conversation by Barrett's question; if Nevamaier would not mind showing Scatha some more of the marvels of this place... Scatha coughed in alarm, and the date stone flew out and landed in Barrett's tea. She'd never cared for ghost stories as a child, and the thought of having to spend time in the company of one - even one as substantial as Nevamaier - did not appeal to her at all. "I'd much prefer to stay here," she said quickly. "After all, I am supposed to looking out for you. Here, let me get that out of your cup." She lent forward, stuck her slightly grubby fingers into Barrett's cup, and extracted the soggy stone from it, before discreetly flicking it under the table. "Drink up," she urged the Dortman. "You don't want to offend our host..."

[Barrett]

Once again, Barrett made a mental note to encourage Erwin to consider alternate choices for Caesari. He was quite convinced that Scatha's aim was deliberate and he was beginning to lose his sense of humor about the "princess". Skillfully, he maneuvered the cup over towards Scatha's place at the table.

"Actually, my dear, some hosts would be quite offended that a guest would insist upon having his guard seated at table in a private meeting. Do you not trust Nevamaier’s oath?”

This conversation might call for more layers of subtlety than the querist felt like dealing with, but perhaps that would make for good practice on his reports back to Andolin. Of course, that thought brought to mind Lady Elaine. Barrett wondered how she was handling her new position as Andolin’s assistant. This in turn led to the memory of how the bard had voiced her disdain for all of the double talking and secrecy that Barrett thought of as necessary for his/their safety.

But this is certainly not the time for me to lay all my thoughts out in the open...

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha pursed her lips; "Don't forget that both of us are his guests. And I'm not just here as bodyguard to be ordered about, and don't you forget it." She poked him in the ribs, just for emphasis, and settled back down into the cushions, still simmering slightly. The cheek of the man... anyone would think he was trying to get rid of me... Scatha tried to recall Nevamaier’s comments, in the light of Barretts question - you may lower your guards, I will attack you no further. My word is my promise, on pain of death... "And what Nevamaier said about not attacking was only meant for you, not me. And anyhow, she didn't lay a finger on you, so I don't see what you're worrying about. Try to relax, and drink up your tea." She pushed his cup back towards him, then took another noisy slurp from her own. "You'll have to excuse him," she smiled at the Rafao. "He's never travelled by portal before, and it seems to have made him snappy. This is very kind of you though, to give us tea and cakes." A sudden thought crossed her mind; "In fact, how did you know to have tea and cake ready... unless you knew we would be arriving...?"

[Barrett]

Since she had tried that tactic often enough, Barrett knew what to expect. Instead of contacting his ribs, Scatha's hand encountered a solid block by her companion's fist. He angled it so that the hard knuckles would be at just the right angle to twist her finger painfully.

"If you do that again, I will be forced to hurt you."
The words were spoken with complete calm. Barrett was not angry with her. True, he was disappointed with her childlike behavior and vexed about how to help her and protect her, but that would never induce him to a violent act. He just wanted her to stop bruising his ribs. Besides, she would have to learn some respect for him if he was going to be able to teach her anything.

Briefly, the querist considered magically silencing her. Attractive as that thought was, such an act would be an abuse of his gifts. Instead, he ignored the tea and spoke no response to her. And her next line of questioning, while showing a remarkable lack of attention to what Nevamaier had already confirmed, was encouraging enough to bring a smile back to his lips.

[wyrdgirluk]

"You'll hurt me?" There was a moment's incredulous silence, then Scatha burst into a peal of sarcastic laughter at the thought. "Well, I'd like to see you try," she said, gradually catching her breath. "Especially as you said its against your religion to use a weapon. That's what you said in the Citadel, isn't it?" Scatha could feel her temper starting to rise from simmer to near-bubbling point. "Well, if you've that sure of yourself, I guess you can do without a bodyguard too. Consider yourself bodyguard-less, as of this moment." With that, Scatha flumped back into the cushions and stared crossly at the ceiling...

[Maeve]

Ionis watched the interplay between Barret and his bodyguard with some amusement. Despite the official papers not mentioning anything of the sort he immediately caught on to what the old friend had send him. It had been written in a code only the Inner Circle would recognize. So Erwin, this is the girl you think will serve us as well as Anochrim, rest his soul? Interesting, where DO you find them? Here at least, guarding this little scholar, she'll safe until you are ready. I will do my bit as guardian, and maybe I'll learn a thing or two that Isis, so filled with her own importance, is bound to overlook. It also gave him time to bond with the potential new Ceaseri, and he was grateful for the opportunity to at least check out the girl before she was abruptly announced. Loyality would force him to agree of course, unless he had sound reasons to council his friend otherwise. After all Erwin, I do rule the other half of the Empire. We are two sides of a coin, we two.

"Come," Ionis said, "let my guardian bring you to your appartment, from where you can arrange for your business. Should you require anything please let one of the servants know."

The girl pulled open the large doors that towered over them, stepping back into the hallway. There were guards on either side of the door, but they just saluted sharply, apparantly not at all surprised about who was emerging from the Royal Living Quarters, or perhaps trained not to show it.

The palace was built from sandcolored stones. The walls were painted in reds, tans, ivory & black, with the occassional splattering of bright blue in a multitude of figures, showing the Rafoa in different poses, hunting in his war carriage, or in repose at a party with dancing girls. The predominant clothes were wraps of cloth around the hip, and around the shoulders, with golden plates around the necks, and broad bracelets. The braided black hair was the fashion of the time. Of course the smaller decoration was even more interresting. A repetitive pattern of moons and suns, the occasional tall storks in the river surrounded by tall reeds, and many, many snakes.

The room that Nevamaier brought them to was also covered in these luxurious paintings and one large bed, filled with satin coverings and many cushions. There was a large fireplace and the room smelled of incense which could be found on the nearby golden table, along with a big can of water, and a bowl. Some fresh fruit was set to the side. There were large doors that opened to the balcony, which gave a wonderful view of the rest of the palace, which was surrounded by a moat. The air was warm and dry, though a soft breeze came in through the balcony doors.

"Here ya go. Ionis has such nice rooms, don't you agree? I'll withdraw now, but call for me when you need anything," the girl said with a small bow, and closed the doors behind her, with an audible click.

OOC: The guest quarters will perhaps serve as your player interaction thread (in this thread that is), while we'll set up a new thread for the continuation of this story.[/quote]

[Barrett]

(OOC: Gracias! )

Barrett was impressed that Ionis had picked up Erwin's intent so easily. Unless there was some other reason for what seemed such quick acceptance. Nevamaier's mind-reading trick perhaps? Before he had much time to dwell on it, they were being ushered to their quarters. Barrett would have to arrange for a later, more private, meeting with the Rafao. That would give him time to formulate more of a plan. And perhaps some time to make sure that no permanent damage had been done by his ill words to Scatha.

The professional composure of the guards was apparent to the Querist, who had spent so much time studying the minutiae of the Purple Guard's behavior back in Citadel. It was partially reassuring, although nothing would ever convince him that he was safe again. Not after Oracle's Isle. And not after his meeting with Silk.

Still, such thoughts gave way to the wonders of the new environment. The contrast of sandstone to the dark quarried rock that had predominated in Citadel was striking. And the colors... so different from what he was used to: why the artistry had come down from a drastically different lineage from what he had studied as proper technique. It was more reminiscent of the Old School illustrations he had studied. The color scheme was also different, and he wondered if it was due to a limitation on pigments available in this environment. Of course, trade made a wider palette available, but the oldest traditions would have ingrained themselves in the tastes of the current decorators. Tradition being, perhaps, more important on this Isle than elsewhere.

The motif of storks and reeds caught his eye, and his familiarity - at least in writing and drawing - with the creatures made them stand out all the more. Thothos, he thought, I pray you hold some good answer and evidence for me. The abundance of snakes was curious. Barrett's eyes also searched for signs of the "kits" that Hadvin had said were fashionable in Amun Rah. He was just getting around to calculating the basis for the sun and moon images when they arrived at the most extravagant guest chambers.
He gave a quick bow to their guide.
"Thank you, Nevamaier."

Immediately, the priest walked out to the balcony to catch sight of the land around them. So intent was he to get his bearings, to confirm how far they had traveled, that he missed some of the details of the room at first. When he walked back in...

"But there's only one - Oh, she's gone."

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha sulkily followed Nevamaier and Barrett up the corridor, quietly seething and barely controlling the impulse to kick the Dortman in the ankles. She was so peeved that she barely registered the smartly garned guards, or the wonderfully decorated walls... but the walk did serve to cool her temper a little, and by the time they reached the apartment it have partially abated.

The room was stunning; Scatha just stood and slowly turned in a circle, soaking it all up, her mouth open in an O of surprise and pleasure; it's like the palace in the Citadel... only different. I mean, its like it because its so... so... what was the word? Influent? Affluent... no, wait.... "Effluent," she said dreamily. "That's what it is." She walked over to the bowl of fruit and found, much to her delight, cherries. "He certainly knows how to treat his guests," she remarked, popping one into her mouth. Scatha barely noticed Nevamaier leaving, until Barrett emerged from the balcony. She waited for him to get clear, then expertly spat the cherry stone through the window. "One what?" She looked around, spotted the bed, and burst out laughing; "Oh, by the Mother! There's only one bed! Wherever are you going to sleep...?"

[Barrett]

"Sleep? I'm a Querist: I don't sleep."
Technically it was only part of the truth, but Barrett thought it worth the minor deception to avoid an argument over who would use the bed. Besides, the Rafao would surely spare another room once he was informed of the mix-up.

Unless he expects the bodyguard to share my chambers in order to better protect me? I've never heard of such a thing. I quite think this is his idea of humor.

"And why would you say that this is effluent? Do you think it has a lot in common with the filth of the sewers? There must be some pretty fancy waste where you come from. Unless of course you meant to say affluent, which would imply that some wealth was involved in the furnishing of this apartment. In that case I would have to agree with you. Certainly better than my quarters at Citadel. It reminds me of the half giantess Sekhmet's bedroom. Only larger... and lacking a desk."

Barrett's brow furrowed. The room was more conducive to relaxation than research. But that might help with meditation for the lessons with Scatha..

[wyrdgirluk]

The small pink cloud of happiness that had seeped into Scatha's head rapidly dispersed as she listened to Barrett. Scatha hated being picked up on her words; it made her feel stupid, and when she felt stupid she got angry. "Who cares what I said," she said savagely, throwing herself on to the bed and lying flat out on it, staring crossly at the ceiling. "You should try being polite to people, and not picking them up on their words, instead of acting so lah-di-dah, mister oh-so-clever-big-words. If you don't like what I say, you can jolly well go somewhere else." Much to her surprise, Scatha felt the peculiar sensation of tears prickling her eyes; she snatched at a pillow, wiped it at her face, and then threw it accurately at Barrett. "Go on, get out. This is my room. Go and get another one from Nevamaier. And don't bother me again until you've learnt to be nice to people."

[Barrett]

The young man caught both the pillow and the reaction he had elicited from his companion.
"Scatha, Scatha, Scatha," Barrett sighed, "I am not trying to pick on you."
He fell to one knee and gave her his best little boy face.
"I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. Please give me a chance to explain."

"I was not judging you, merely trying to teach you the proper word to express what you were thinking. It's what I do. As a priest of the god of knowledge, I am supposed to help people learn things."
Barrett bit his lip for a second trying to reconcile his own shortcomings.

"Only I don't have much experience at teaching people, so sometimes I give information where it isn't wanted or in a manner that doesn't sound as nice as I would like. I do need to work on that. And perhaps that is something that you could help teach me. Please."

"Erwin and I both admire you for the way you see the world, and we want you to be able to say what you really mean so that everyone else can gain the benefit of your wisdom."

"Think about this, Scatha. If you had remarked that the palace was effluent in a public place, people who do mean you harm might have used that to say that you insulted the Rafao. Then we would be in trouble. As representatives of the Empire and of Duke Erwin, our comments could be passed off as 'official'. They could have a negative impact on the coming struggle in Citadel and on the safety of everyone we love."

[wyrdgirluk]

If anything, Barrett apologising to her made Scatha feel even worse; the prickling in her eyes made her vision swim, and she angrily wiped her face with her sleeve; "I think Nevamaier left a bit of herself floating round. She said she was made of sand, didn't she?" Scatha sat up, brought her knees up to her chin and curled her arms around her legs, hugging herself for comfort. "I don't understand big words. I don't know why people have to use them, when they can just say what they mean. I don't know why you have to use ten big words when two small ones will do. And I don't understand what you and the Duke think is so marvellous about me - I'm just a farm girl from Dort." A farm girl who has met princes and dukes, fought orcs and flesh eating savages, faced dragons and ridden hippogryphs, and been marked by the Mother as one of her daughters, a small voice whispered in her head. What would your aunts say to that... The thought of her aunt Etain's reaction if she ever heard any of it was almost enough to bring a smile to her face. "I'm sorry if I use the wrong words," she said softly. "But if people around me are using them, then I don't want to look stupid. I don't ever want people to think I'm stupid, even if I can't read or write." She looked at Barrett sideways; "For someone who never sleeps, you look remarkably awake," she commented. "Can you really go without sleeping...?"

[Barrett]

"Well... that's only partially true. Generally I get so caught up with whatever I'm studying or learning or trying to piece together that I forget to sleep, often for days at a time. Instead I practice meditation to keep my senses sharp and my energy flowing, with only short naps when absolutely necessary. I think it may have something to do with how the Thinker fuels my learning."

Barrett chuckled.
"That sounds pretty ridiculous doesn't it?"

"You don't know why people would want to use 'big' words. But think about your own reaction to this very room. Sometimes something feels bigger than normal. Special. So we want to use a special word. So you reached for something other than a simple 'wow'. Nothing wrong with that. We just need to expand your vocabulary - teach you more words - so that people can know just how special your feelings and perceptions are. Also, the right word, and the right tone of voice, can convey more than using a whole sentence. For example, I might tell you that I don't really want to eat pomegranates. But if I say that I loathe them," he used a perhaps exaggerated voice that was more in line with telling scandalous stories in a tavern, "it gives you a bit more information about my impression of pomegranates."

"To use a hypothetical - which means made up without being necessarily true - example. Or if I don't want to have people thinking I am a poor relative, I might say that my Auntie Ree is an uncomely woman rather than say she has a face like a horse's."

"It's not your fault that I've spent more time learning books than you have. In fact, I've spent my time thus so that everyone else doesn't have to. And you are not stupid. It will just take a little extra work to be impressive when speaking at court. Not that I think you need to change how you speak. But you do want to understand what other people are saying, don't you? The same for reading. It will impress people, but more importantly it will mean that they cannot keep a secret from you simply by writing it down."

Barrett got a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he reached for his writing kit.
"For instance."
He wrote the words: What kind of ruler will Scatha be?
"I have a challenge for you. This is a secret question that I have for you. It's Erwin's secret too. Can you tell me any of what it says?"

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha wrinkled her nose in in puzzlement at Barrett's explanation of how he didn't sleep; "I can't imagine anything being so interesting that you forget to sleep. Besides, not sleeping makes you cross, and you can't concentrate when you're cross. At least, I can't." She considered his explanation about using big words, and scratched her chin thoughtfully on the top of her knees, which were still drawn up; "I suppose so," she said eventually, "but it does seem a bit pointless. The sky is still blue, regardless of how you describe it. Unless its raining, in which case it's grey. And I didn't know you had an aunt. I bet she's not as horrible as my aunt Morrigan." She watched apprehensively as Barrett produced a slate and some chalk, and hugged her knees tighter as he made some peculiar marks on it, then held it up for her. Can you tell me any of what it says? It was just like being nagged by her aunts. The marks were just a mess of white lines and snakes upon the black-grey slate. Scatha shook her head firmly; "No. It doesn't look like any branding mark I've ever seen. And you wouldn't get the cow to stay still enough to put anything that long on it, either."

[Barrett]

“No, I imagine you wouldn’t.”
Barrett watched his charge carefully to see what she made of the challenge. Only last month, he could not have imagined anyone in Dort not having their letters. But the world was larger than he had ever suspected and priorities were different in different communities. At least she didn't seem too upset by the prospect.

"Very well, we'll concentrate on a smaller part for the time being."
He cleared away all of the words except for Scatha's name.

"This word here. The characters for Scatha. Let's break it down into symbols. That way we accomplish two things. You learn how to read or write out your name and you become familiar with that small portion of our alphabet. Once you're comfortable with these, we'll move on to the rest of the alphabet. The letters build the words and once you know what sound each corresponds to, you'll be able to work out the meanings of simple writing by 'sounding' it out in your head. Does that make sense?"

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha stared at the peculiar marks left on the slate. So thats what my name looks like... it's not very pretty. Let's see... a snake, then the moon, but back to front, then an arrow head, then... something something arrowhead. It seemed like an awful lot of effort. "Does every word have lots of letters like that?" she asked nervously. She was fervently hoping that SCATHA was a long word, hopefully the longest word in the world, but had a dreadful suspicion that there would be even longer words with even more marks, like antidisestablishmentarianism, or potatoes. "It doesn't make any sense to me at all. What's an alphabet?"

[Barrett]

"Scatha is a nice-sized word. Not too long, not too short. About average in length as words go. Some are shorter, like CAT."
He demonstrated on the practice slate.
"Others longer, such as ATTENTION."
He demonstrated once more.

"In order for the words to make sense from one place to another, we have to make sure we use the same list of letters to spell them. That list, of all the letters that we use to make up the various words, is called the alphabet. Once you know the alphabet, sounding out the words becomes quite easy. Although some words are tricky."

Barrett wrote each letter of Scatha's name out at the beginning of a row.

"Now to begin. The snakey S, the crooked C, the arrowhead A, the crossroad T. Try your hand at writing each alone several times. Then we'll work on your signature."

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha took the offered piece of chalk from Barrett and held it gingerly in her fingers, as if it was some strange insect that might bite her. It made a hideous squealing noise as she dragged it laboriously across the slate, trying to copy the marks that Barrett had made. It wasn't at all easy, and Scatha found herself getting agrier and angrier with each line and squiggle. When she'd finished she looked between the neat, efficient marks that Barrett had made, and the awful tangle that she'd somehow produced; her snake was twisting in the opposite way from his, for starters. "Oh, its hopeless," she said crossly, throwing the chalk across the room and taking a small degree of satisfaction as it split into several pieces. "I couldn't do it when I was little, and I can't do it now. Besides, its boring, and there is an entire island to explore. Let's do that instead." Whilst Scatha didn't like people knowing that she couldn't read or write, she wasn't that bothered about learning to, either - that was what ears and tongues were for, wasn't it? She scrambled off the bed; "I bet there are good places to bathe. Let's ask Nevamaier."