The air was already hostile temperatures as Laughing Boy reached the top of the black rocks. It was perhaps three hundred feet down to the golden sand. While it would be cooler there - only several hundreds of degrees - the sand whipping about in the wind would be enough to take the skin off of a human. This valley was relatively sheltered from the fierce winds by the encircling wall of rock, but just a day ago a fierce storm had blown through here, and it was possible that something was unearthed - perhaps another small hint of the ancient kingdom that once ruled the wasteland now known as Ghenesh.
A quarter mile away from the black wall, another outcropping of rocks juts out of the ground, like a wound in the desert floor. The smooth sands below betrayed no signs of life. One day, ages before Dara took the throne - perhaps before Benedict had even lifted a sword - somebody - thousands of somebodies - had lived here. Laughing Boy could feel it. Deep within his shell, something that was once flesh and blood could feel the hints of life that once ruled here.
Laughing Boy rubbed his hands together, producing almost a slight static. "Excellent! The storm is already dying down somewhat. By the time I get to the valley floor, it should be more or less possible to begin some assessment of the site." He rubbed his chin idly. "If only I could get some assistants out here, some real progress might be made." He paused, looking up at the too-close sun of Ghenesh. "But then again, if that were possible, these sites would have been explored a long time ago, and I might not be privileged enough to be the only explorer who can assay these regions."
He checked his gear - primarily his rope and hook, and a set of leather straps with spikes on the soles of his feet that he wore for intensive climbing work, as his toes were no longer separate and able to easily grip rock. He worked to secure the rope to a rock outcrop at the top of the black ridge, and then slowly began his descent. The artifacts he was after were thousands of years old. They would keep for an hour or two longer.
The black slopes of Ghenesh scrap harmlessly on the carapace as Laughing Boy descends to the sands below. The golden flowing ground offers little comfort after the descent. Slowly Laughing Boy trodes through the burning sands, which constantly slide underfoot as he walks. The black spires in the center of the walled valley offer the best hope for excavation, leading Laughing Boy to head in their direction, constantly on the lookout for signs of unearthed relics.
The outcropping grows in size as Laughing Boy approaches, until it towers high into the air. The rocks themselves would take significant time to fully scout out, and are probably filled with nooks and crannies. From the texture of the rock, it appears that the formation was recently buried - giving hope that other treasures might abound nearby.
After a bit of searching, Laughing Boy spies a small patch of white glinting in the sunlight at the far edge of the black rocks - probably ancient marble peeking up like bones from underneath the sands.
As he approaches the contrasting colors, Laughing Boy spies an unusual pattern in the sands - long slithery liners. To most, such signs would be almost invisible, but to his artistic eye, such patterns leap out. Laughing Boy has seen these before - the trails of the black centipedes that dwell in the desert. What their proper name is, Laughing Boy does not know as he has never spoken to the natives of this land. The centipedes are quite large - the largest that Laughing Boy has seen was six feet long - and lie dormant in the sand waiting for some other prey to come by. Their fearsome pincers are unable to pierce the carapace however, and so the creatures pose no threat to Laughing Boy. There are at least 2 or 3 centipedes present, of medium size. It is likely that more lie asleep under the sands, nesting and waiting for some activity to awaken them from their torpor.
Poor creatures, they. They sit alone all the day, under the sand, waiting for a moment that might disturb their slumber and offer a hope of nourishment. It is dark under the sands, I can surmise; dark, silent and still. For I --
I shake my head violently for a moment, flitting the thought from my head. I must not think of such things.
I take my steps a little more cautiously, however, as I approach the glimmer of white in the distance. For while I have no fear of the centipedes, the artifacts and relics I seek are brittle with the passage of time. I do not wish them damaged in my haste to find them, nor eaten by some careless creature in search of an afternoon meal.
You cross the sand as carefully as you can, and if any of the centipedes lie beneath the sand, they do not stir. The only movement apparent upon the barren landscape is that of your metallic body and the harsh winds.
You reach the protruding white object. It appears to be the remnants of an old white marble pillar or statue. The details are worn away by the billowing sands, but such a find bodes well for other treasures buried beneath the sand. Much of the pillar still lies covered, and that portion might have more interesting details, not yet destroyed by the hostile environment. If the base of the pillar still remains it could be very from an archaeological point of view.
Setting down your tools you begin the slow process of uncovering the column, and examining the surrounding area. A few hours work reveals some surviving details on pillar farther away from the surface. Much of the pillar still remains, and you can't help but wonder what marvels might be at its base.
The hours have quickly passed by in your enthusiasm to explore the new site. The air must be cooling about you, as the sun sets. The last light fades behinds the black spires of the valley walls, taking with it the surrounding warmth, as the valley almost supernaturally begins to cool.
As you break out a light to continue your work through the nighttime hours, you a scratching noise. It came from within the rocks behind you. Again, another noise... definitely not centipedes. It sounds more like metal scratching against the rocks, reminding you of the noise the carapace made as you climbed down the rock face earlier in the day.
I turn around quickly, but as quietly as I can. I shouldn't have let my enthusiasm so run away with me - for more than just my own frame can survive in the cool night airs of Ghenesh. I study the rocks for signs of movement, while being careful not to disturb either the column or the sand I have moved in my excavation of the site. If it is a natural predator, I do not wish to arouse its' ire. But if it is someone, their motives are even less clear.
The movement continues, probably deeper within the rocky outcropping. Doubtless, the black spikes conceal numerous caves, crannies and other hiding spots. The sounds continue, and you are able to discern more details in the noise through the blowing wind. Scratching, and scrapping, clearly not a fleshy sound, though it could be somebody in a suit of armor. The noises do not appear to be approaching you, but neither are they going away. Whatever it is, it does not appear to be too close. You think you've pinned down the direction the sounds are coming from. The pattern of sounds - grinding metal against stone is interrupted - a scream - human - it sounds like a child. A scream filled with fear and desperation.... terror.
The scrapping sound rapidly increases, giving the impression of something scrambling through the rocks. The screams continue like a lion's roar through the land. You hear rocks clanging against metal.
That is no threatening predator's cry - that is a victim! I move forward quickly, thumbing the wheel inside my right wrist until my sword Trump is revealed. Within a second, it is in my hand. I've designed this weapon to absorb and magnify vibration, so I clang the scimitar against the rock face as I advance. A familiar thrumming fills the air around me as I speed towards the sound of the child. I will not alert the predator to my presence, even if it would mean reassuring the child...the moment of surprise will mean too much.
Laughing Boy scrabbles rush through the rocks, following the human screams and the scrapping sounds. Words can be heard amid the screams, but none that are recognizable as Thari - or any other language Laughing Boy knows. Whoever is screaming is probably not local to the area, as Thari is the native language of all of the Golden Realms. The rocks prove treacherously slick for Laughing Boy's metallic body, but the minor bruises that would pain anyone else don't even dent the Guild constructed body.
The sounds echo from deep within the rocky spires, away from the sunlight, and fierce wind, through a tunnel-like cave. Such a place would make an ideal spot to hide from the brutal days - though it would get deadly cold at night. The pounding of stones gets louder as Laughing Boy descends through the rocky tunnel. Then the screaming ceases. Fear builds as the likelihood of a dead child increases.
A soft glowing green-blue light comes from ahead. A twisted spider like shape is reflected in that glow, magnified upon the black walls. Nearing closer, Laughing Boy can see the source of the scrapping noises. A mechanical beast, its body half the height of a man, with long gray legs. Five legs remain where eight were originally designed. Each leg ends in a strange claw-like configuration that serves as both foot and hand. A set of sensory devices, which appear slightly damaged, resides at its front, facing away from you. The body is divided into two egg shaped segments. The rear segment has a large dent in it.
The spider looks very similar to several robots that Laughing Boy has seen in Guild Workshop. In fact, he has employed a couple in the past to aid in excavations. They are not capable of independent action though, and are require a human operator to order them about. They are controlled using a complex language of high pitched sounds, normally played on a flute-like instrument. They are useful for exploring complex terrain, and for venturing into areas humans might be wary of going into on foot. The rear segment is primarily a storage chamber. The behavior of the spiders is complex, but they are unable to function away from an operator. Laughing Boy hears no sounds of such a device in use. The spider is also larger than those that Guild utilizes. These are very expensive devices and are not deposed of lightly by the Guild.
Time and elements have clearly wrecked much havoc on the creature. Its shell has numerous small dents in it. The polish has been worn away by sand, giving the entire creature a worn almost rusted look. Several of its 'fingers' look broken and one of its legs looks slightly damaged. If this is like the other Guild spiders that Laughing Boy has worked with it will have an amazingly durable shell. Its weaknesses lie in the joints connecting the legs to the torso, and in the underbelly, which is not as well armored. With a normal spider destroying its sensors would disable it, but this one appears to operate without a controller, so it may not matter.
The spider moves forward, towards the unknown source of blue-green light. It hasn't noticed Laughing Boy yet, possibly due to the humming of his blade. It reaches one of its appendages forward at something out of sight, moving to strike.
As I plunge into the darker confines of the cave, I pull a small lamp from my satchel and strap it around my wrist. I don't need it too often out here in the desert - but I am glad I packed it now.
I increase my pace as I move within the cave. Even if the child is wounded, I might still reach it in time to save its life. I pull up short, however, as my eyes take in the Guild construction. I take in the information momentarily. There is no operator, and the construction is damaged. Either it is completely berzerk, or it has been salvaged and stolen by thieves. Either way, my duty is clear.
I rush forward and strike directly, attacking the main joint of the rear left leg. Done properly, it should fall backwards, out of range of the threatened child.
Laughing Boy rushes forward, slicing his blade into the spider's joint. The programming of Guild Spiders gives some autonomous movement, but without a controller it shouldn't be able to fight very well. The sword hits cleanly at the joint, but the strike isn't quite as accurate as Laughing Boy would have liked. The leg convulses momentarily, and the spider begins to fall. The other legs quickly compensate, including the attacking front appendage. The wounded leg lies useless, constantly twitching. The speed that the spider regained its balance is a testament to its designer's skills. It must have a newer dynamic counter balancing module - better than anyone of the ones that Laughing Boy has seen in action before.
The spider stops its forward movement, and begins to whirl about to face its attacker - unusual behavior, and more evidence that its programming might be damaged, considering that most of the spiders Laughing Boy has used are designed to either retreat from things that attack them, or at the least ignore them. Its brief pause upon being wounded and its turning movement give Laughing Boy time to bring his sword around for another attack. He can also now see what the spider was striking at. A orb, about a foot in diameter, is on the ground ahead of the machine. It looks vaguely organic, like a large seed with veins running along it. It is glowing with a bright blue-green light. There is no child in sight, but Laughing Boy does spot a torn piece of white cloth on the ground near the orb.
The spider's movements are amazingly quick, and as Laughing Boy is readying his sword for a second attack and taking in the scene with the orb, one of the spider springs upward toward him. Laughing Boy manages to spin out of the way, narrowly avoiding a direct him. The fingers of the machine barely graze the carapace, but do not penetrate. Its abilties far exceed what one would guess the machine should be capable of.
Jump-twist-roll-jump. This spider's movements are incredibly well-defined and spontaneous - this is quite an unusual collection of automatic movements. Roll-twist-slash-jump-kick. I do wish to restrain the thing from further attacking the...Orb?...but I must try to disable it without damaging the central areas. I am sure this will be a valuable item for study.
The sword proves its utility in the combat. As a stroke is missed, the strength of the blow carries it through to a solid object - a wall, a rock, or the automaton's plating - the impact resonates and empowers the blade further, making the eventual scored hit more damaging. Laughing Boy's style of fighting is designed to encourage this - he favors attacks that are blocked more than dodged, and will keep the opponent off-balance with a variety of blockable attacks. The goal is to tire the opponent enough so that a vital area to strike might be revealed, and struck with the energy of all the blocked attacks. In this situation, he wishes to lure it away from the orb, and strike at the joints of the legs whenever possible. As this is a Guild construction, he has reason to fear that it could damage his Carapace, so personal risk will be kept to a minimum.
While I cannot see an operator right now, I must also remain aware of any sudden new presences in the room - if this spider has been salvaged and refitted by parties unknown, they may have a care to save their new weapon.
Now that the spider's attention is on Laughing Boy, solid hits are much more difficult to accomplish. The sword builds up more and more power, gaining in strength with parried blow. The machine shows no signs of tiring - indicating that it has a relatively full battery and was thus recently recharged. Despite its prowess, Laughing Boy is still quicker than the machine and manages to avoid its attacks while searching for a clean opening - a task made slightly more difficult by Laughing Boy's desires not to damage its central components.
A blow to one of its hand, removes the claw, leaving the spider with a stump that is only usable for walking. The machine's movements seem to become more agile, and Laughing Boy realizes that the leg he initially damaged, now appears to be partially repaired and the spider is using it to support its weight again - though the leg appears more clumsy than before. The carapace is the only known Guild device that is capable of self repair - an ability due to the sorceries used in its construction. This spider should not be able to heal.
Given time, Laughing Boy is sure he can disable the spider without sustaining any serious injuries himself and without destroying its core mechanisms. Already he can detect patterns in its attacks - at its heart it is just a machine. It is simply a matter of timing. The moment comes after almost ten minutes of fighting, The spider raises two of its front arms to strike, a move Laughing Boy was prepared for. He can then dodge the blows, moving into the perfect position to attack the joints of the attacking limbs, rendering the machine unable to fight.
Just as Laughing Boy is about to dodge the attacks, a white blurred shape falls, or leaps, from the roof of the tunnel. It lands on the Guild spider's back and stabs a long dagger into the machine's sensory unit, causing a couple of sparks and a bellow of steam. The distraction almost causes Laughing Boy to be hit by the spider's arms, but he narrowly avoids the sharp claws, sliding below as it strikes out. Following through with the maneuver he slices through its front legs. The sword cuts right through the joint of the first leg, but only damages the second leg.
The small figure in white leaps backwards off of the machine's back, leaving the knife buried in metal. The spider begins to convulse, falling with its belly to the ground. One of the legs spasms out at the white figure. Instinct takes hold, and Laughing Boy swings his sword at the leg, deflecting it away from its intended target. The spider continues to spasm, and the figure stumbles back along the ground, scrambling on rocks, towards the glowing orb.
The figure, possibly just a child, is dressed in white robes, completely obscuring any personal features. Only two dark blue eyes are visible staring with intense emotion at the spider and Laughing Boy. The hands are a dark tan color. The person's dress resembles that of the Moonriders, whom Laughing Boy has met only on rare occasions, but the white color is unlike any seen before. Normally the Moonriders wear clothes that blend into the sands, or the rocks under moonlight. No other weapons are in sight.
The spider continues to convulse on the ground, and then with a slight burst of steam from some ventilation ducts stops moving altogether.
Curious that the new arrival only attacked and destroyed the device when my disabling tactics, presumably quite obvious, were about to come to fruition...
I send my sword back into the Cup Trump from which it came, and stay otherwise still, not wishing to appear threatening.
"Hello. My name is Laughing Boy. I heard someone crying out - can I render assistance? Is someone injured?" I try Thari, but with some traces of their strong accent. I have only dealt with Moonriders on one or two occasions, and have not garnered enough of their idioms to even be passable. But the boy is young, and I need to speak in as close a language to his own as possible. Otherwise, I would speak straight Thari, being afraid to offend through improper imitation. I am studying the layout of the cave as well as the appearance of the new arrival, as I intend to return here in the future with assistance to handle the ruined spider, and will need to know this area well for the Trump.
When the sword disappears in a rainbow trump effect, the figure leaps back with a small cry of alarm. Reaching into a small cranny behind them, the small brown hands pull out a large white marble object. The person holds it above their head, as if threatening to throw it. The object looks like a bust, though many of the features are worn away. The weapon this child is threatening Laughing Boy with is not only harmless against the carapace, but is also a probably priceless relic.
The person lowers the bust slightly, as if reconsidering throwing it, and Laughing Boy thinks he can hear what sounds like a soft laugh. A young girl's voice, certainly the same one that was crying out before, comes from beneath veiled robe. "Non'a venga affato d' piu viciniat! Sto aveterndoli!" Whatever the girl is saying you can't understand a word of it. The accent sounds like that of the Moonriders though. Whatever it is, it doesn't sound related to Thari. The sound of fear transcends any language boundary though. Laughing Boy can see her arms are already shaking from holding the massive bust aloft above her head. From his guess the girl is probably between 10 and 14 years old.
Oh, my dear Unicorn...
I raise my hands and take a step backwards. I deliberately stumble on a rock, but control the fall so it is more of a direct sitting-down. I splay my hands outward to reveal nothing in them, and position them in a surrendering move. I speak again, though this time in straight Thari. The language is unknown to me, but I must communicate through tone and sound and gesture, not language itself.
"Please, do not throw that." I cross my lower arms together above my head and gesture towards the bust. "I mean no harm to you." Hands back up fully, fingers splayed. "I heard a cry," and I imitate the voice I heard, putting my hand to the side of my head (as I have no visible ears), "and I came in to look for it." Hand moves to above eyes, turning head around briefly.
I have in my satchel a container of water. It is not for my thirst, but rather for cleaning artifacts to make out hidden and obscured details. But it is water drawn from my house - clean condensed water from steam. If the situation becomes less tense, I will offer the child some water, as there is no well for miles that I have seen. I marvel that the child is here at all.
The girl laughs, almost dropping the bust when the bizarre imitation of her cry emanates from the silver face. She barely puts the bust on the ground, before another laughing fit overtakes her. Whatever words were imitated from the cry apparently have some strange meaning to her - either that or the sing song dual voice is overly amusing. The laughing is probably also a defense mechanism to the fear she is obviously still feeling. She takes control of herself, mumbling a few words quietly. She lowers her entire body to the ground, although her face remains up, eyes focused. She then sits back up, crouching - clearly ready to run at the slightest sign of trouble.
The girl unwraps her face and head, revealing herself. She is pretty, though not beautiful. Their is an exotic quality about her, marking her as clearly different than the children of Amber and the other Golden Realms. Her skin is dark tan, but not from the sun's light. Her long, blond hair is a knotted, tangled mess with flecks of red. There are two small gold hoops in her left ear, and three in her right. Her face is long and thin. Laughing Boy's eyes are drawn to the large bruise on the right side of her face. The wound was previously open, but it looks several days old and is already healing. It looks as though she was hit hard in the face, and not by the spider.
The girl gestures to her face and body and raises her hands to show you they are empty. "Veda, sono d' unt ragazda pura. Nessun trie perilcolo per voit artgo akrit." She motions for you to wait, and reaches into the crevice from which she retrieved the bust. "Prestand quelto alimeti come ringrazityiamento." She pulls out half of the body of a medium sized Ghenesh desert centipede - perhaps the very one that Laughing Boy saw the tracks of earlier. She cracks open the shell of a segment near the front and offering it Laughing Boy, places it on the ground.
"Lar gentyo estresna li denotia lahela." She looks at you for a reaction and then points to herself again. "Lahela. La-Hee-La". The girl looks rested, and other than the bruise on her face, unharmed. Her lips are slightly dry, but she appears to be in good health. She still seems very cautious and fearful though.
I lower my hands slowly and carefully, then point to myself. "Laughing Boy." I pause, then pronounce it phonetically. "LAA-fing BOI." I point to her. "La-Hee-La?" I wave my hand in a gesture of greeting. The mark on the child's face - I believe I may know why the child is all alone out here, away from any settlements of the Ghenesh. She has, I believe, done something entirely brave and entirely foolish. I admire her nerve and her fortitude, if her history is as I suspect.
I gesture in one hand moving downward, and then outward in a move of offering. "I have something for you. For you." I reach into my satchel carefully and smoothly, in as relaxed and non-threatening way as I can, and I extract the flask of water. It is approximately one liter, and has not been opened since I left the house. I immediately bring it forward to be seen - but not so fast as if to be thrown. I slowly unseal the container - a screw thread molded into the glastone vessel and into the rubber lid - and hold it out to the child I can only surmise is Lahela.
I will never be able to explain in sign language that I don't eat anything without implying that I don't like what she's given me. I do hope she doesn't mean for me to eat that - but I will proceed along.
I look down and study the centipede. I am looking for signs that it is alive or otherwise freshly dead, as a food offering might be. I am scientifically interested in the interior of the centipede as well. I point at the centipede, then at the black cavity that appears to be my mouth. "To eat? To eat?"
The girl listens with keen interest as Laughing Boy pronounces his name. She appears to be concentrating a bit on it. Lahela nods, smiling, when her name is spoken to her. She gestures with the back of her hand to Laughing Boy, "LA-LAA FING-ING BOI-I." The words are like a twisted song coming out of her throat. It sounds like she is trying to imitate the dual sing-song voice that she heard. She tries again, and this time the sound gets very close to the way it sounds when Laughing Boy says it himself. The tones are softer and more gentle though. It seems likely that the girl has had some vocal training. She smiles, apparently proud of her achievement.
Lahela smiles when Laughing Boy gestures from the centipede back to his mouth. The creature appears quite dead, probably within the past day or so. However, Laughing Boy thinks he remembers hearing how a lone traveler who survived an attack from a nest of centipedes tried to eat one, found the meat poisonous and died. Of course it is just a story, and it wasn't clear who survived to tell it. Lahela slowly moves forward and takes a bit of the fleshly white meat that lines the shell. She holds it up and then places it in her mouth chewing. "Dubcha" she says once she is done.
The girl takes the water bottle and trys to smell the contents. She lifts it tentatively to her lips, perhaps wishing she could read the expression on Laughing Boy's face. Since he does not stop her, she takes a very shallow sip. "Dubcha pallow" she says quietly and takes a longer drink, clearly thirsty. She recorks the bottle, leaving mostly full, and places it beside the centipede on the ground. Apparently her thirst is overpowered by her habit of water preservation.
Her fear seems to be waning, though it is clear that she is not fully trusting yet. Between Laughing Boy's appearance, the attack by the spider, and whatever abuse she previously suffered, it is surprising that she has opened up as much as she has.
I wish I could smile. Gods above, I wish I could smile. This child deserves it. All I can do is nod enthusiastically. "Yes, yes! LAA-FING-BOI."
And now for the show. I hope I can pull this off well enough to keep things going. I pick up the shell and tear away a piece of the white meat. I nod my head and bring it up to my mouth. I then send it into the Cup Trump with the sword - although this time, I attempt to stifle the rainbow flash as much as I can. I can explain how the sword was sent away, but the meat was eaten - but I'd rather not be forced to. I make some subtle chewing noises, and then bob my head as if swallowing. I verbalize an "MMmmmmmm..." sound and pat my stomach. "Thank you." I nod. Then, I make a foray into learning her language. "Dubcha?" Nodding, and pointing at the nodding. "Is this dubcha?"
I pick up the flask and replace it into my satchel. I point to her and raise my head and hand as if to drink. "If you want more," pointing to the flask, "say 'WAH-ter'. 'WAH-ter'."
I raise my knees and put my elbows around them, clasping my hands in a relaxed pose. It is good that the child is relaxing - perhaps I will discover if the child has been living here, or knows somewhere else as the place where she sleeps. I would even take the child in myself, if she would be amenable to it, rather than send her back to whomever decided that wounding a child's face was a particularly good idea.
Lahela seems either to be mystified or impressed by the feigned eating, but she is definitely not insulted. She even giggles a little bit before controlling herself when the chewing and eating sounds are made, as they sound a little odd through Laughing Boy's voice system.
The language learning session is slow but enjoyable. After a bit of work, Laughing Boy guesses 'dubcha' means good. He learns the names of several nouns as well, though Lahela is unable to confirm whether he has the correct pronunciation due to the double sing-song nature of his voice. She in turn learns a few words of Thari and helps herself to some more water. Gradually she becomes more relaxed, although Laughing Boy gets the impression that she doesn't really regard him as human, but more of a spirit or some other mystical creature. It might be for this reason, that the girl doesn't think anything is wrong with the disappearing sword or even with Laughing Boy's bizarre appearance.
Several centipede corpses are hidden in her hole, none too old. She also has two bags that contained water, with only half a bag remaining. The water in Laughing Boy's flask is obviously of much higher quality in Lahela's mind. It doesn't look like she has been leaving in these caves long, probably only since the Storm, although it appears she might have been traveling for several days more than that.
As the attempts at conversation progress, Lahela cleans bits of dirt from the marble dust. She apparently thinks it is a thing of beauty and Laughing Boy is certain that she found it nearby, as she doesn't have the strength to carry it very far. As she reaches out her arm at one point trying to describe some concept, a day of time perhaps, Laughing Boy sees another bruise. It looks as though she was beaten or at least severely handled.
Lahela still seems scared of the Guild Spider, and doesn't touch it or venture too close to it. Its almost as if she expects it to come back to life at any point.
The blue-green orb flickers slightly and dims its glow a little. Lahela coos to it, singing a soft melody. She then points upward towards the surface, and then through the tunnel. Between gesturing at the orb, whose structure surprisingly sturdy, and the tunnel, it seems that she is signing that she wants to bring the orb up.
I wasn't going to touch the Orb - as it has a nigh-spiritual appearance. But by my Lady's command...
I rise and approach the Orb. Is it an egg? Or a pupa? I examine it tentatively, and touch it once, lightly. I would assume from her gestures that there is no ill effects of touching it, but even the familiar can be surprising...
If nothing untoward occurs, I move around the Orb, so that is is placed between myself and Lahela. I squat down, placing both hands on it near the bottom, and attempt to cautiously lift it as I rise back to a standard position. Whatever happens, I must not drop it. Set it down - perhaps. Drop it - no. I know not what would happen, but I suspect such a thing to be frail, at least in the interior of the thing. I look towards Lahela, and take a tentative step forward to gauge the traveling weight. As long as nothing surprising happens, I am prepared to follow Lahela to the surface again.
The soccer ball sized orb is slightly flexible to the touch, like stretched canvas. The exact texture of it is difficult to discern through the carapace, but it feels warm and smooth to the touch. Picking it up, Laughing Boy notices a small rope tied to it very unceremoniously. The orb is surprisingly light, perhaps a pound or two in weight. It isn't clear what is creating the light within the orb as the light is diffused throughout the object. The material it is made of seems fairly durable but without too much effort, Laughing Boy could probably put a hole through it.
While Laughing Boy is examining the orb, Lahela goes through the crevice where she appears to be storing her belongings. She pulls out a sheet of clothe - this one a purple so dark that it almost seems to be black - and proceeds to wrap it around herself, forming a coat. She reattaches her head covering, taking almost fanatical care to make sure everything is firmly attached. She cautiously retrieves her dagger, which appears to be adorned with various symbols and jewels, and places it in a sheath beneath her robe. She also grabs her remaining sack of water and a small bag into which she places another piece of the centipede. It is almost as if she is not expecting to return to this place. The bust she leaves behind on the ground.
Before leaving she kneels a few feet away from the Guild Spider. Whispering, almost as if it was an incantation, or maybe funeral rites, she says, "Maggio lia tolleranzia delo ghenesho va con voi. Ora riposoti edo importurno nori gli alcooligra delco vitrad." She makes a circular motion on the ground and then stands.
Seeing that Laughing Boy is content to carry the orb, she starts up the tunnel, heading back to the surface. She moves with the grace of dancer, making little noise as she moves, despite her encumbering garments and the supplies she carries. "Lai bacca declo latra devo essere bevandra ord appassca." she says as way of explanation, though the speed of the words is too much for Laughing Boy to decipher.
The night is ice cold when they reach surface. Lahela waits for several minutes at the entrance to world, listening carefully. She quietly ventures out, inspecting the vicinity. Finally she seems convinced that everything is safe and motions for Laughing Boy to follow her. Moonlight trickles down through the rocky spires. The darkness of the world has almost changed the place from its sunlight equivalent. It is always amazing how much the appearance of this land depends on the rising and setting of celestial bodies. Lahela motions to take the orb from Laughing Boy.
Taking it, she carries it with much less regard than Laughing Boy did. She scrambles up a spire with monkey like agility and places the orb on a outcropping. The spot is brightly lit by the moon, causing the orb's glow to be almost unnoticeable. She opens the sack of water and cups a tiny amount into her hand. She gently spreads the water along the surface of the orb. Once done, she deftly climbs down, leaving the orb on its perch.
I am left with no real action but to gesture at the Orb, nearly dark but now moistened for some reason. I presume this is part of the preparation of the Orb to 'hatch' or something similar - but will it happen now?
"What is this?" I point at myself. "Laughing Boy." I point at her. "Lahela." I point then at the Orb, and make a somewhat questioning "Hmmmmm?" sound. "What is this?"
Lahela looks at Laughing Boy, but her expression is unreadable under her mask. "Bacca Declo," she says slowly, and then repeats it a few times. She points at the moon and then at her eyes and then at the entrance to the cave. Pausing, she appears to think for a moment, before raising up her hand and pointing at the lantern on Laughing Boy's wrist. "Bacca Declo", she says and then, pointing at the orb, she repeats herself, "Bacca Declo".
She creeps farther away from the shelter of the rocks, constantly on the guard, expecting something to jump out. She looks back at Laughing Boy a few times, either making sure he is alright, or reassuring herself to his presence. Laughing Boy isn't sure what she is afraid of, as there are very few predators in Ghenesh that he has seen. The centipedes who might bother some apparently pose little threat to her as she killed several for food already. It could be that she is afraid of another berserk Guild device or perhaps an operator for the one already destroyed. Or, she may fear those who had hurt her before.
Once she is farther from the center of the rocks, she pauses, looking up at the stars, tracing patterns in the air with her finger. Laughing Boy thinks he can hear her reciting a song softly. She might be trying to navigate. Watching Lahela work out whatever problem she is working on, Laughing Boy sees a movement in the corner of his vision. It takes a moment to find it again, and confirm it is not a trick of the light. In the distance, across the valley, a dark shape, or a group of shapes is moving. Slowly it comes into focus. It could be men on horseback, three of them - Moonriders. Lahela appears to see them as well, her eyes focused on the three shapes. They are still a good distance away, and probably won't arrive, if this is their destination, for ten minutes.
Hmmm. Apparently the egg is a light source - perhaps it 'charges' during the night and is used during the day. This is a fascinating environment - I may come back from time to time merely to study the wildlife here, let alone the archaeology. After all, if this egg can make light, perhaps it can make energy. Then I notice the new arrivals, and study them for a moment.
I expect she will have more of an idea than I as to our best actions. I move up to her position, facing the shapes and trying to identify them and their bearing. Then, I crouch on my haunches and turn to Lahela. I point to the shapes and pantomime a friendly wave to them. "Friend?" Then, I point to the cave entrance and put my hands on top of my head, as if to protect and conceal myself. "Hide?" Then, I perform an exaggerated gesture of confusion - hands palm-up and elbows bent. "What do we do?"
Lahela slips behind some rocks to watch the riders more carefully - waiting until they are close enough to identify. She motions for Laughing Boy to hide as well. After a minute, it appears she has made her determination. "Kiji doe va ferret," she says softly. She slides behind the rock completely so that there is no chance of her being spotted. She sighs and then pulls out her dagger.
She looks up at Laughing Boy's face, and the terror and fear are unmistakable. "Mastal gatri, Laughing Boy. Mastal gatri." Her voice is pleading. Her eyes dart from spire to spire, apparently trying to decide where to make a stand. She looks to the tunnel and then, after a moment of thought, shakes her head in sadness. Lahela's voice grows resolute as she speaks. The words hold no meaning for Laughing Boy, but her meaning seems clear from her tone. She will not surrender.
These are clearly the people who have beaten her. I will not surrender her to their vicious mercies. But I would rather not fight them if I do not have to.
I point to her, then to the cave - and then I rest my head on my hands sideways, in a pantomine of sleep. Then I put my fingers very close together. "You sleep here, and it is very close." Then I point to me, then mime sleep again, and then drag my hand up and away, to indicate great distance. "I sleep somewhere far, far away." Then I indicate the both of us, push my hands forward as if to dive, and replicate the great distance gesture. "Would you like to go to my home, which is far, far away?"
It doesn't appear that Lahela understands the first bit about sleeping, but the traveling motion seems to make sense to her. The relief in Laughing Boy's apparent agreement to do something to help is evident in her manner and voice. She motions between Laughing Boy and herself, and then pantomimes walking with her fingers. The fingers move slowly. She points towards the horsemen, and then pantomimes walking again, but this time very quickly. "Nona possiamio verso l'estestro ila funzionamersa lorco. I loro cavicia sonot alcunod dela piu veloce nelte sabbon dia fuoco." She shakes her head in dismay. "Kia. Prenderco posiziona miot qui."
Lahela pauses for a second, and then gestures towards you and then at the riders. She then raises her arms and begins walking in a manner that looks like a clumsy monkey, all while making growling noises. She gestures at the riders again and pantomimes them running away. "Sie allontaneranio dak voit," she explains.
She means for me to scare the Riders away, apparently. I will not do that - I will need to deal with them in the future if I wish to continue exploring these ruins. The time is come. I can return to these specific ruins in a day or two - but this expedition is over. I have not found what I wanted - but perhaps what I was needed to find.
I stand up fully, taking the opportunity to set my eye Trump for the roof of my villa. I stare down at Lahela, and perform a gesture that anyone who's ever read a story of a genie or a wizard or a fairy will know and understand.
I gradually unroll my arm down towards her, ending in an outstretched hand offered to her.
"Will you come with me, Lahela? Far, far away, and to a new life?" I briefly concentrate on the Trump of my roof, letting a sparkle of rainbow energy flitter across my eyes.
Laughing Boy's words seem to transcend language for a moment, and Lahela seems to feel what is being asked of her. She hesitates for a moment, looking up at the moon. "Madia," she whispers in a almost silent prayer, while clenching something underneath her robes. She reaches out her other small hand to take Laughing Boy's.
The roof of his villa crystallizes into view for Laughing Boy. It is a cloudy night in the One City with a gentle breeze that brings the smell of fish and the sounds of distant factories to Laughing Boy. One eye focuses through the trump on Amber, and the other on the girl in front of him. He can make out the nearby sound of horses and swift movement through the icy airs of Ghenesh - the riders have made much better time than Laughing Boy would guessed possible.
There is a slight tugging on the spirit as the two pass through the trump. The usual strain that is experienced whenever one transports another through trump is minor, perhaps due to Lahela small size, and is accompanied by a brief wave of sensation and emotion. Her mind is as fluid as she body. Even amid her fear, she still holds a joy for life. There is something buried deeper, something dark. Suffering, pain, rage, blood, loss, guilt. Such glimpses of her soul last only the briefest of moments before the frozen air of Ghenesh is replaced by the comforting air of Amber. The moon remains ever constant though, peering down from the heavens.
She has her own dark secrets that I glimpse - and perhaps she has perceived some of mine. I sensed even from the beginning that we were kindred spirits - but I will not pry. I have my own secrets to keep, so I cannot deny her to keep her own.
I maintain a hold on her hand, only releasing my touch if she desires to pull away. With my other hand, I make an expansive sweep of the horizon, and I say a word I dearly hope she has not heard before.
"Amber."
I must bend to her reaction, whatever it may be. But I will show her the immediate benefits of her choice. While maintaining my facing to Lahela, I cast my eyes into the streets, looking for one of the many youngsters who are in the service of the Guild and make their living running errands for the Craftsmen. Even at this late hour, I should find at least one who would be able to run to a tavern and bring a hot meal here. And there are so many more plans to make. I will have to convert some of the villa space into a private living quarters, and I will be constructing a set of armor for her as well - after all, her services as translator will be useless to me if she is immediately recognized and apprehended.
Lahela falls to the ground. Whether her silence is born of terror or awe is impossible to discern with her wrapped face. Seconds pass by as Laughing Boy attempts to read her emotions - seconds that perhaps feel like minutes. At last a word carries itself faintly over the winds: 'Amber'. She stands, still holding Laughing Boy's hand. "Amber?" she says again, this time as a question. She looks around, viewing the buildings, and there is a sense of awe in her voice, "Amber."
Laughing Boy spots a group of low level Guild servants, bound to the Guild's service, wandering the streets, likely heading to a bar to celebrate the end of the day's work. They are dressed in tight black suits with a red trim. They wear no masks, not being members of the Guild, but instead have black opaque goggles - which the Guild has designed to aid them in their duties. The servants Laughing Boy sees are clearly not on a job now as most of them are hanging their goggles around their necks. They are always on duty though, and can be called upon by any Guild Craftsman.
Laughing Boy has called upon the services of such youngsters before many times, though most of the youths in this group are unfamiliar to him. One of them, a boy with short scarlet hair, stands out in Laughing Boy's memories, though he is unsure of the boy's name.
Lahela seems amazed at seeing the people in the street. She pulls off her face coverings and breathes in the fresh warm air. There is a look of shock and confusion clearly evident. "Comet ei? Ci sona esseri umani qui. Sona alcoolici dela metitico come vot?" She asks looking at up at Laughing Boy. "E qustia dai essersa lai mira nuovat sede?" She doesn't appear to expect an answer, or has found one for herself, as she looks up and smiles timidly. She is silent for some time afterward, taking in the marvels and sights around her.
"You there! Apprentice!" I apologize for offending - and will make it up in his gratuity. But I've no time for dawdling or for my remembrance of this man to return to me. "I have a service I require of you, and will reward you handsomely at this hour." I take some of my Guild notes out of my satchel, and drop them down to him as he approaches. "Go to the Steamwhistle Inn," and I name a nearby restaurant and hostel that caters to the Guild, "and get me two meals' worth of food and drink. Make it a decent variety of food, as well. If you and your fellows can get this back to me in fifteen minutes, you will each receive what I have supplied there for the costs added to your next stipend." I wave and listen to make sure he understands the directions.
As Lahela reacts, I turn back to her. I shrug a little, and then point at her mouth and gesture downwards. "Slow down, slow down, Lahela. There is plenty of time for exploring this world I have brought you to." But I can see she is eager to see what she can see of the City from here. Yet I do not wish her to fall from my rooftop. I pat my shoulder briefly, then interweave my fingers near my hip and jerk my head upwards. "Will you see the City better from my shoulder, Lahela?"
The youths take the money and with a brief hesitation, possibly born out of fear, the red haired youth replies, "Yes, master. As you command." He is apparently the bravest of them - the rest viewing Laughing Boy with a clear sense of either dread or distaste. Even among the Guild, the reaction to the mechanical man is mixed at best.
Lahela climbs onto Laughing Boy's shoulder, unafraid and surveys the area. Her frame is light, but the belongings she carries are surprisingly heavy. The girl must be much stronger than she appears to carry such weight without any sign of strain.
Her eyes wonder across the bright city - lit by thousands of lights. Then, through cracks between buildings, Lahela spies the reflective shifting surface that is the ocean. She is quiet for a moment, and then points at it. "Che cosi ei quella, Laughing Boy? E le'stremact dia teron?"
I take her questions as what I imagine they mean. Of course she wants to see the ocean, dear fool - she comes from a desert! Still holding her steady with one hand, I point towards the receding apprentices, and move my fingers in a running-away fashion. "They'll be gone for a bit...", and then I run my fingers back towards her. "They will return," and then I make a motion of handing something over, "And they'll have something for you, Lahela." I pat her on the back. "And after that, I'll take you down to the ocean to see." I point to the both of us, and walk my fingers down towards the ocean.
But youth cannot be totally constrained. "But in the meantime, let us see what we can see." I walk closer to the side of the house facing the ocean, and with one hand, I reach into my satchel and pull out a small telescope. I use it in exploration to save myself time approaching a possible site to confirm that what I might see would not be a rock or a shadow or somesuch. I briefly demonstrate its use, then pass it up to Lahela.
After the meal, on the shore, I will make my first gift to her, to let her know that she is safe wherever she might go. I idly flick my finger on one of the spare Trumps of me I carry in my satchel...
Lahela looks at the telescope briefly and nods. "Vistia lontena," she says. She takes it from Laughing Boy and handles it expertly without the slightest signs of hesitation. She looks through for almost a minute, but there is no happiness in her voice when speaks. "Le'stremact dia mondo." She sweeps her vision away from the ocean and begins to examine all of Amber through the telescope. She stops for several minutes on the sight of Amber castle looming high above all else. It is almost as though she can sense the importance of the place.
Only twelve minutes have passed when the red haired youth returns with two baskets filled with food. Steam pours forth from one basket - they must have rushed considerably to get the food back in such short order. The three youths that return each no have their goggles about their eyes. "We shall leave the food on a counter within the villa, Master." the red haired youth says, the solid black lens looking upward where eyes should be.
Lahela perks up, clearly smelling the aroma of the foods. She gracefully leaps off of Laughing Boy's shoulder and lands with hardly a sound, despite the weight of her bags. She leans over to look at the Guild workers, but seems shocked when she sees their goggles. The glance she gives Laughing Boy speaks of clear experience dealing with Guild workers in the past.
The delivered food is still very warm and consists of the widest variety that it is possible to obtain at the Inn. There also appear to be a few items that Laughing Boy had not thought were commonly served at the Inn or even in the Guild Quarter. While Laughing Boy unpackages the food and lays it out, Lahela carefully examines the contents of the villa. She seems slightly wary of many of the Guild devices, and treats them as more mundane than some of the more objects lying around the house. She spends a bit of time examining a painting that Laughing Boy had left drying on his easel.
The boy starts from me - yet he has his own mask already. I wonder how much of him will remain when the rest of it is fitted snugly to his face? "Thank you, dear sirs. Leave me your names or your insignia, and I will ensure your reward is given speedily." I lead Lahela downstairs, past the second-floor workshops to the first floor. Perhaps the sea does not hold her interest for long - but such is the fickleness of youth. After assembling the contents of the baskets into a relatively quickly-realized and pleasing array, I indicate with a flourish to Lahela that it is ready for her. "Eat and drink until you are full." I motion my hand above my stomach and pat it. "The scarcity and opportunism of the desert sands are behind you now." But at the same time, I wonder...have I grown too comfortable? I have my unfinished business up at that Castle. And every day it lags, more are made to suffer. Is my caution worth the lives of so many? I shake off my distraction, and attend to Lahela again.
I laugh a little, and gesture a friendly dismissal of her entreaty. I take a breadstick, and poke it at the black glassteel that is part of my mask. It crumples easily, and crumbs fall to the floor. "I cannot." I laugh a little more - but it has an acrid edge to it. I miss food. The smell of the bakeries in the Merchant Quarter. The taste of Lord Bayle's finest, liquid velvet on my tongue. The sharp sweetness of an orange as I peeled and ate it, section by section... I turn to the food and point to the cooled cabinet in the front room. "What you do not want will keep there for a time."
I study her face as she looks at my work. It is a Trump in progress, but not one for a deck. It is a painting of the Guild headquarters in Juniper - my business and research drags me there from time to time, and I will only go to a place so often before I incorporate it into the Hall of the Present. It is mostly finished - the main building is complete, and I am filling in the surrounding vegetation and landscape. When finished, it will take me underneath the shade of a large deciduous tree on the grounds, well out of sight and yet within easy reach.
I make a gesture of an artist holding a brush. "Do you paint, Lahela?"
Lahela's expression is one of contemplation and appreciation as she examines the painting. "Cio mi ricordia dela lavori dela malto. Molto piacevole." She folds her hands before herself as if in prayer and bows slightly to Laughing Boy.
Lahela considers Laughing Boy's question for a moment and then shakes her head dismissively. "Nono soni statsa permesio maio toccaroc lei pergamene che ia padronio hanno usato peri la pittural." She smiles and then makes the same painting gesture, but moves her fingers along the skin of her face. "Potrei verniociare soltarnto la carno." Shes moves over to the table and admires the food.
Lahela gives Laughing Boy and then the food a questioning look, but she takes a bit. Her first bite is one of hesitation, but the taste of the food overwhelms her, and soon all fear is lost. She eats her full, sampling almost all of the dishes, but she doesn't over-indulge. She doesn't seem surprised at all that Laughing Boy doesn't eat.
After the meal, Laughing Boy guides Lahela through the back streets and rarely traveled paths to the docks. After a bit of negotiation, Laughing Boy managed to convince her to leave her collection of belongings behind. A few unsettling characters pass by or sit in the shadows. Were he anybody else, Laughing Boy is sure that he would be assaulted for any loose change. The petty criminals of Amber learned many years ago to avoid Guild members as targets. Seeing Lahela with Laughing Boy is probably already giving her some measure of protection aganist any future assaults. The young girl seems nervous about the people she sees. She sticks very close to Laughing Boy, almost stepping on his feet at times. Her small hand clutches his metal one tightly.
The sight of the ocean seems to cause a momentary panic, but she hardens herself to it, and shows no more fear. Compared to what this girl must have experianced in Ghenesh, the ocean is of small concern. She still seems nervous about the water itself, and Laughing Boy watches her gaze at the edge of the horizon.
I reassure Lahela through a gentle stroke on the shoulder that the ocean is safe, and she can even touch the water if she wishes. I reach down and splash a little. Oh, to feel cold water again... I pull up and sit down on the dockside, offering Lahela a seat next to me. I reach into my satchel and pull out the Trump of me. I show it to Lahela. "When you are scared, look at this...stare at it deeply." I point to her, and mime a gesture of fright - hands near to the ears and splayed. Then I point to her eyes, and then to my Trump. I offer her the Trump. "Look at it now, Lahela. Let your mind wander." I point to her eyes, and to the Trump. I point through the Trump. Then I point to my mind. "See that you will always be safe, because you can always speak with me."
Lahela watches with a bit of skepticism when Laughing Boy splashes the water. She hesitates for a moment, and then reaches to the water's edge and touches the water. She giggles, probably thinking herself silly for all of her fear, and splashes more of the water. Quickly, before Laughing Boy can stop her, she scoops up a handful of water and brings it to her mouth. Her face instantly puckers up in revulsion, and she spits out the polluted salt water. She seems a little upset, but not very surprised.
Lahela watches Laughing Boy's pantominme with a small smile, and takes the card, bowing her head slightly in thanks. She looks at the card and is suddenly overcome by shock, probably at the unexpected coldness of the card. She flips it over, examining the back, before looking at the face of the Trump again. "Mia..." she whispers. As she continues to look at it, Laughing Boy can feel the barest hint of a contact, though it is not strong enough to hold on to.
She bows her head again, thanking Laughing Boy for the gift. Even if her mind is not yet powerful enough or skilled enough in Trumps to make contact, Laughing Boy is sure that with a little bit of training she will be able to establish a full contact. The brief hint of contact that she was capable of is a sure sign that she has ability - she needs only to hone it.
Lahela stifles a yawn - clearly she is more exhausted than she has let on, but it has been a busy night.
Laughing Boy, appropriately named, cannot stifle a giggle a little as Lahela wipes her mouth after spitting out the rather disgusting water. He points at the ocean, and points to her eyes. "This water you look at." He brings out the flask from his satchel, and flicks the side of the glassteel flask with his finger to make it ring. "This water you can drink." He offers it to Lahela to rinse her mouth out.
Laughing Boy looks down. Yes, you have have a busy day, Lahela. I wish you could tell me about it. But that will be a long while down the road, I believe. I look forward to our first conversation. He gets down on his haunches, and offers his hand to Lahela.
He activates his Trump to return to the roof of the villa. He then scoops her up in his arms, and cradles her as he descends the stairs to the second floor. I only have a cot in the corner of the workshop right now, for when my mind must take a break for a moment - I will have to fashion a proper room for her quite soon. He takes her past tables and racks with a multitude of silver-glass piping on them, and the soft hiss of a mostly-closed steam valve at the far end of the workshop. He pushes aside a thickly-woven curtain, similar to burlap, and reveals a rather plain cot with a plain white pillow.
"It's all I have to sleep on right now, Lahela - I will build you a better room soon." He indicates the cot with a slight flourish, and drops his shoulders in slight embarrassment. He darts aside momentarily, locating a stretch of insulator fabric from the workshop floor. It is a smooth and pliable material, and is roughly four foot square and an inch thick. He piles it at the end of the cot - to be used as a covering, if desired. But the ambient temperature is actually quite warm, anyway.
I point at myself, and then point first to the floor directly next to the bed, and then across the room towards the stairs to the first floor. "Lahela - should I stay with you tonight, or do you want to sleep alone?"
Lahela takes the flask from Laughing Boy and drinks down long gulps of water after first swirling it in her mouth. It the greediest that Laughing Boy has ever seen her. She refuses to spit out a single drop of this precious, clean water. She returns the flask to Laughing Boy with a contented smile. Weighing it in his hand, Laughing Boy judges the flask to still be over half full.
There is a familiar blending of minds as Laughing Boy takes Lahela through the trump. Her thoughts are crisper now, full more of a sense of wonderment and amazement than anything dark. Laughing Boy might be able to sense more if he pushed, but whatever secrets are buried in her mind will likely come out at the proper time on their own.
Lahela examines the bed for a moment and then climbs in. It seems quite comfortable by her standards. "Per mei? Per dormirot?" she asks. She mimes a sleeping gesture and points to herself and the cot. Seeing that this is clearly what Laughing Boy intended, she lays down on the bed.
She watches Laughing Boy's gestures, and closes her eyes and bows her head. "Saro sicurio qua neli vostros rengo custoditia. Posso riposarte facilia sei dito chia e sicuco." She gestures in a motion of going and then lays down to sleep.
Just as Laughing Boy begins to get up, Lahela leaps from the bed in a fluid motion. "Laughing Boy! Attesia!" The young girl gets down on her knees and bows her head to the ground. "Desidero ringraziarli pera ilit salvatagioro mei. Nona conosico chei misterio quasto teria tiena, mia e lontarno dall'anima dello mia patris. Grozia , la mia voit e ona vostro mania." Her tone is solemn and respectful. She is either praying to Laughing Boy or thanking him.
Afterwards she returns to bed, resting with her eyes half open, watching.
I make a note of this. Then as I descend from the roof later, I briefly detour to the first floor. She will know she is in a land less deprived than the one she left. I take her into the sitting area, and to the chilling cabinet. I take an empty glass from the top of the cabinet, and then turn to a small valve on the side of the unit. It flexes open at a touch, and while a small puff of steam escapes, the water that flows into the glass is clean, crisply cold - and even fresher than the water I have had at my hip for two days now. The process of condensation and thermal discharge is not terribly useful except as a by-product of a larger steamworks - but it is the purest water for drinking possible. And the slightest hint of lemon does not hurt the water's taste at all, either. I offer the glass to Lahela. "If you are ever thirsty, come here and drink as much as you want." I wave my hand expansively to indicate that there is no limit. The reservoir's capacity is indeed somewhat limited - but I am somewhat skeptical that she will drink the ten gallons the tank holds at chilled temperature, nor can she outrace the gallon-per-hour rate the tank is filled at.
I look forward to a sharing of minds - but first, we must share many words.
I will have to tear this illusion of spirit-lord away from myself at some point - but I don't think I can do that with a gesture or two. As she 'prays', I stand before her respectfully, hands folded in front of me. After she concludes, I wait a moment to make sure she has no further desire, and then I head downstairs. I might labor in the workshop otherwise, but the noise will not be good at this hour.
I dash down to the basement for a moment, taking materials from the Hall of the Present. I set up easel and palette, and then return to the soft light of the fireglobes in the main room. I hum quietly to myself as I begin two paintings - two Trumps. One is of the rock formation where I found Lahela - I must return there soon, after the Riders have passed, and find the bust and the other artifacts that were there. It is a priceless trove, I believe.
The other is more personal. It is of a young woman, poised on the top of a desert ridge, tracing a star pattern in the twilit night. It is how I know you now, Lahela - strong, independent, knowledgeable, curious and ready for a new direction, a new adventure.