Rubbing his chin, Garek glanced between Kas and the stowaway with furrowed brows. He had a million and one questions for his niece, starting with how in the hels she managed to meet a halfling when she was supposed to be aboard the ship while he was away. He sighed, pulled out his book and flicked through a few pages.
“Kas, I have a job for you.” Garek said with a grunt. “Go to my room, grab my wax and seal stamp, and meet me in the bridge.
Now, preferably.”
He then turned to Grin, squinting suspiciously before speaking. “If you wanna stay aboard, I reckon you make yourself useful. There’s plenty of cleanin’ to do in this pigsty,” Garek said with a wistful glance around the galley. “Shit, if you can cook, make my crew a damn feast.”
And with a turn, he and his leather bound book made the short trek to the bridge. He settled himself into his usual chair after grabbing a spare scroll and ink pot from Toan’s stash.
Kas's expression drooped as she understood that Garek was not going to be as accepting as she thought of her friend. "Sure thing, Gramps." She said with a sigh, disappearing with a turn of her heel and heading down the hall to Garek's room. She knew he kept his wax and stamp in the top drawer, and scoffed at the amount of empty liquor bottles that he had across his room.
Once she had retrieved the items as requested she headed to the bridge. "Here you are, good sir." She gave him a little laugh and held out the stamp and wax for him to take.
"Sit." Garek said with a grunt, retrieving his seal stamper and preferred red wax. "Take this," He said with a wave of his hand, pointing to the unadorned scroll and ink pot. "And transcribe what I say."
Kas rolled her eyes. "I'm not your servant, ya know. You've got two workin' hands." Still, despite her complains she picked up the scroll and ink. "Is this because my handwritin's better than yers?"
Yes, he thought to himself,
And your hands don't shake nearly as bad as mine.
"Still a member of this crew, ain't ya?" Garek spat, the edges of his lips turned upwards, however. "And yes, I need it to be legible. When you're finished transcribing, send it with a raven."
Kas sighed, even as she returned his little smile. "Alright, capn." From out of her hair, she pulled one of the many feathers and dipped it in the inkwell, a suitable quill. "Do yer worst."
"Anuleisa," He began, clearing his throat as he went. "I hate to always be the bearer of bad news, but Amaleyia and her crew will arrive later than expected."
Kas diligently etched the paper, dipping the quill back again every so often. She chuckled to herself at his statement, but said nothing else and continued to write.
"The conjurer wasn't as easy to find as you made it seem, dearest. But I managed to locate him through the
Spider's contacts. You should be happy to know that he's in one piece." Stopping to clear his throat, Garek waited until Kas' last flourish and then held up his hand for her to stop transcribing for the moment.
"How long do you think it's been, Kas, since we were in Lyf last?" Garek wore a thoughtful face, his eyes and mind focused elsewhere.
Kas stopped chewing on her lip to answer this question, resting her hand for a moment as he stared off into space. "I 'unno," She said blandly. "Long enough for ya to call Anuleisa dearest." She snickered.
His eyes took a moment to focus but once they did, they settled on Kas, confused and startled, as if shaken from his thoughts forcibly. "What?"
Kas continued to stifle her laughter as best as possible. "Yer an old lump. Want me to write that down?" She said, picking up the quill once more and dipping it in ink.
"No," Garek scoffed, rolling his eyes to the heavens.
Twirling a finger and signaling Kas to get ready, he continued. "A few months have passed since we last saw each other. I know Amaleyia will not disappoint. There's been a few additions to my crew and all but a few are trustworthy, I believe. If not we can send 'em flying…
"Wait, no don't write that."
“Too late. Already written.” She said with a smirk.
Garek rolled his eyes and continued, transcribing the rest of the letter for Kas. Reading it over swiftly, he nodded his head once and used the warmed wax to seal it closed. He uttered something to low to hear and then handed it over to his niece.
“Straight to the ravens, now. Don’t fuckin’ dwaddle, ya hear?” Shooing her out, Garek pinched the bridge of his nose before burying himself into his ledgers.
-
The ravens were stored away on the third floor. After having lost their five ravens not once, but
twice when they penned out on deck. Whether it was due to mischievous scoundrels or pesky corvus cleverness, no one was too sure.
Off in the corner of the storage room, where the cages have stood for months, something was amiss. Usually both doors were locked shut, but in this moment they stood open, swaying softly with the motion of Amaleyia herself. That wasn’t the only indication, however.
Scattered around the room were blue-black feathers. Some clustered together, unintentionally forming odd patterns and designs, while others laid lonely by themselves, as if guiding you onwards. Behind a large crate on the opposite side of the room were four dead ravens, their feathers torn and disheveled. Curiously, other than being dead, there didn’t seem to be a cause of death.
A faint rustle of feathers could be heard from somewhere above and emanating around the space was a saturating sense of unease.
-
On deck, where Toan continued to catalogue the goods from the crates, a gale swept over Amaleyia that rattled even the machinery. Frowning and rolling his loose scrolls nice and tight, Toan pointed to Kydris and then at a single square package, wrapped tightly with twine and parchment, and then over at the bridge.
“Take that to Garek over there in tha’ bridge, goods from the QN that is. Be careful with it and hurry back out.”
Turning to the newly hired Halfling, Toan groaned internally before continuing. “All the crystals need to go below deck. Third floor. You wanna’ go grab Keev or Spire to help ya’?” Toan hollered over the unnatural wind. “This shipment was heavier than our last and there’s a few parts up here they’ve been feignin’ for. Don’t want you and the kid breakin’ your backs.”
The night was silent, still, and bright with silvery moonlight. The High Priestess of Oraheim, Amoret Larocque, took in her surroundings with a drawn out sigh. They were surrounded by flat fertile lands and beyond that, an undulating horizon. Though sprawling their temple was, they were alone in every direction for leagues. To the east were the salty Sylphaerian Straits and the nearing springtime Galas…
When she was a girl she yearned for those Gala’s, for something more than the stone and brick temples to which the Unattuned belonged to. So few of her brothers and sisters across the world were free from temple life. So few were able to live the way they wished; unhindered by tradition and expectation from those above. Protected and Guided by the Sylphaerian’s, the Unattuneds gather and live in temples all across RoNaan’s Realm. They prayed, chronicled, studied and searched, experimented and invented…
Atop the temple Oraho, in the sacred gardens of the Elysia, Amoret waited for the younger priestess with an anxiety welling in her heart. The moonlit waters illuminated the garden with a silver glow and despite the serenity of the hallow place, there was no stillness or peace to be found. For weeks she bore witness to a disturbing cycle. She’d sent word to Sylorah just two days prior and received an almost immediate answer. The quickness was unnerving. It was as if the Sylphaerian’s had expected her.
-
In the darkness of brick and white stone, a novice ran through the maze-like temple structure. It sprawled for miles, both up, down, and around. The priestess’ all slept above ground, signifying their hierarchy within the temple itself… But getting there in the dead of night without being seen was difficult. Her Mistress insisted she stay hidden, that there was a reason she called upon her hummingbird.
No one knew the temples like young Jazamene. A ward of the temple, nearing her thirteenth year. She was a favorite among many, if dangerous to replicate. She had a sailor’s mouth, a pirate’s courage, and enough will to sway the Judge himself below. From a young age Amoret had sponsored the girl, had been given secret counsel afterwards that her choice had been correct. The same stood true for the woman she was being sent to collect.
Clara Elergy.
When Jazamene scaled the short, open brick window into Clara’s room she landed with barely a thud noting her arrival. The soft white canvas blew in the wind and she crouched until they closed. The moonlight was bright and Clara’s quarter’s faced the eastward seas. Slowly, on nimble barefeet, Jazamene whispered her name.
“Clara.”
Clara was awake. Of course, there was little surprise in this. The young priestess was often up at odd hours of the night. There were two windows in her room, and she had curled into the frame of her seat in the first, the red book perched in her lap, charcoal dancing across the page, staining her skirts, her hands, her face - the countenance of which could not have better reflected her effortless joy.
She loved her life in the temple, but it was little mystery that Clara longed for more. For life on the outside - to explore, to discover… and not just because it was their calling, but because her own curiosity demanded sateing. A life of apathy, studying and gardening, holed up in the stone walls that had surrounded her most of her life was a sentence, and she was only too ready to shed protocol, proprietary… to spread her wings and take flight.
From behind a curtain of curing flames, she glanced over to the younger girl, slate eyes lighting up, brightening warmly, “Jaz…” If she was startled, either by the girl’s presence at all, or the odd decision to enter by such unconventional means, it didn’t show in the pleasant smile that stretched across her lips.
“What is it?”
“It’s Mistress Amoret,” Jez whispered back, her face splitting into a smile of her own. Taking a few silent steps forward, she made a gesture for Clara to step away from the window.
“She’s atop the temple Oraho and she wishes to see you.”
Frowning softly, Clara slipped from her seat and rose. Why Mistress Amoret would send the girl in such a secretive manner, she couldn’t wager a guess, but it seemed hardly consequential to the practical minded young priestess, “Am I to go out the window, in your stead?” She did wonder aloud, with a bit of a mischievous smile, “I’m afraid I’ll wind myself up in quite a mess if that’s the case. I’m not nearly as adept as you at climbing.”
A soft giggle escaped Jaz as she shook her head and beckoned Clara forward once more. “We can leave through the door, Clara, we just can't be seen.”
While it seemed like an elaborate game to Jazamene, something danced in her dark eyes that knew, without understanding or words, that it was nothing but.
“Quick, fluid movements Clara. Like our water dances… we’ll start by heading towards the temple Borro and then traverse the hanging garden to cross over to the Oraho courtyard. From there we take the steps as fast as our feet can go.”
Jaz smiled an infectious, mischievous and conspiratorial grin. “Are you ready?"
If she were honest, the answer was no. She wasn’t particularly keen on the idea of sneaking around, nor did she understand why it was necessary, but it was better, at any rate, than sitting around in boredom, so with a nod, she grabbed her cloak from it’s peg by the bed, and set her charcoal and palette back into her sack, slinging it across her body.
It occurred to her then, that she had packed as though she were not intending to return to her room, and while she couldn’t say why, she didn’t rectify it, turning to Jaz, “Ready. Lead the way.”
Jaz nodded and turned to the door behind her. A long open hall, filled with identical doors, stood before them and Jaz waved Clara forward. Once the pair were through the threshold, Jaz closed the door as softly as she was able, grabbed Clara by the hand and took off down the hall. Her bare feet against the soft white stone felt nice and cool and it wasn’t until she passed through three separate halls did she finally release Clara’s hand and motioned upwards.
“The priests down below don’t want us to know, but there’s a hanging bridge just past the greenery of the gardens. We’ll have to climb the vines to get to them though… Clara, just remember, you must only grab the night vines. They’re the strongest… Otherwise, you’ll grab one and it won’t hold you. That’s how I fell last year…”
Pushing her bag behind her, Clara glanced to the younger girl, a brow lifting in thought as her mouth turned down in a frown, “...The night vines. Of course. Jaz…” She started, as she glanced up at the path before them, “Why
is Mistress Amoret being so secretive about this?” Dusting off her hands on her skirts, removing any excess charcoal, she started a careful ascent up the vines.
Jaz gave a shrug of her shoulders before grabbing a thick silver vine that shone in the moonlight. Night vines weren’t native to the western hemisphere, but they fared well in the Oraheite climate. The sweet scent, reminiscent of blossoms, became stronger the higher they climbed. After a minute or two, Jaz spoke in a soft voice that would nonetheless travel to Clara beneath her.
“I… Listened at Mistress Amoret’s council door last night… I know I shouldn’t have, but she’s been acting strangely… Like waking in the dead of night with cold sweats and frightened screams. I couldn’t hear much, truth be told, but from what I
did hear, she’s worried about something, something that’s been happening.”
Jaz kept climbing, growing near the secret bridge. “We’re almost there, Clara, how’re you faring?”
It was an alarming admission, both because they were by nature curious people, but eavesdropping had never been encouraged, but more importantly because of what Jaz had heard. And where Clara fell in to all of this she couldn't hope to guess, but it seemed odd that she would be called upon so abruptly, or at all… given how important it all suddenly seemed.
“Well enough…” she called back, quietly, continuing with carefully placed limbs up the vines, “Though far less anxious to get there, rather all the sudden…”
Though she was young, Jazamene had a frightening clarity of the world around her, of the world that she'd one day travel. It was innate. Given to her by God, the priestesses said. But she didn't care. She wanted nothing more than to divulge the secrets hidden in the world, like the secrets Mistress Amoret kept locked away.
She wasn't a fool though, she knew what she did was wrong and what woke her mistress up in the dead of the night was nothing to be excited about... And perhaps that was what hushed Clara's voice. The realization that the whatever it may be, would be too overwhelming... too dangerous to fathom...
After a few minutes passed, Jaz would suddenly disappear from view. From her position, if Clara looked up, all she would see were bulbous hanging bushes, vines that shone in the moonlight, and small, gold colored blossoms that smelled like jasmine. Suddenly a tanned brown hand poked through the bushes, waving at Clara.
"Keep climbing, you can't see it from that angle, but the bushes have been trimmed so you can climb straight up. Be careful where you place your feet, the bridge is hanging off one of the temple spires."
Clara continued up, and as she reached the top, swung herself up as carefully as possible, turned round only a moment to gaze in the direction they had come. It was, truly, a concealed path and one she might never have found on her own.
"Clever Jaz... Well done."
The young girl beamed in the shadows, her teeth like pearls. She beckoned her forward with her chin, onto the bridge. It swayed, but only slightly, and was near fifty feet across. When Clara started forward, Jaz glanced upwards and took a deep breath.
"I'm not allowed to go any further. Mistress Amoret told me to deliver you here and instruct you on how to get to the upper levels. It's easy, really. Once you cross this bridge you'll be on the seventeenth floor of temple Oraho. It's the same level we sing our daily chords, Clara, so you'll know the way to the top once you hit the seastone stairs. But you'll need to move fast, Priestess Lesleigha likes to stroll through the gardens on the twentieth floor. I'm not sure what goes on up there, though I'm sure you do," Jaz laughed, mainly to displace her growing worries. "Once you pass it, you should reach the top without anything to worry about, it's only three floors above that."
All of a sudden Jaz threw her arms around Clara's waist and wrapped her in a tight hug. "Be careful Clara, okay? Whatever Mistress Amoret sends you to do, just be okay." From within her pocket she withdrew a small pendant depicting a lily, made of pearl, strung with leather. "Take it, Clara. It's always kept me safe..."
Blinking, eyes misting over, Clara returned the girl's embrace before she reached out to take the pendant, suddenly and efficiently terrified as she clutched it, "I will..." She whispered, then leaning forward, she kissed Jaz on the top of her head, "Behave while I'm away, dear heart..."
Slinging the pendant around her neck, Clara nodded, before she turned, making her way along the path that Jaz had indicated. It was slow going, and at times confusing, and with her eyes full of tears and her heart pounding, Clara nearly lost her bearings more than once... But finally, after far too long, she arrived...
Amoret Larocque was waiting near the silver pool, still pacing about it with a maddening unease. When she noticed Clara, she beckoned the young priestess forward, to a pair of gilded silver-white benches. Resting on one were a mess of items and scrolls, scattered hastily here and there. Amoret sat upon the other one and gestured for Clara to sit beside her.
"Were you awake when Clara came to fetch you?"
Smiling gingerly, Clara held up her hands, smudges of charcoal still present where she hadn't been able to brush them off, "I was drawing. You know how caught up I can get in my sketches..."
"Destiny shows us the way..." Amoret mumbled, forcing a smile to her lips. "What do you remember of your childhood, Clara? What do you remember about your visions? The ones that came from the Eye of Hamman?"
Considering the question, Clara lowered her hands... "I saw birds... Blackbirds. One of them called to me, told me to follow. I did, and he took me to a temple in the clouds. The sky was black... Starless. Then at the foot of the temple, a woman appeared, shining and brilliant. There was a great wind and all at once the sky burned with millions of stars, again. That... That's all I remember."
"The Eye of Hamman only shows us individual futures." Amoret chuckled, perplexed at how the past was rushing forward in so many ways. "Seems you'll help birth something new, Clara...
"I think it's your time. B-but there are things I need you to do for me Clara, things I need you to complete before you begin your Archiving." Amoret whispered urgently.
Nodding Clara straightened, "Of course. Anything. What is it?"
"There are those who wish for me to stay silent; those who believe I'm overreacting. But I've already sent word to my contact in Sylorah. She requests someone to be sent to her, so she can read over the documentations herself. I trust no one but you with this matter Clara, no one but you."
Blinking, Clara's mouth opened, then closed again as she studied Amoret. When she did speak, there was a reverence to her tone, but also a subtle twinge of anxiety, "...Wh...what are they? The documentations?"
Amoret swallowed, "Obituaries. Hundreds of entries that list time and cause of death... Ones that match precisely to a single scroll, yellowed by time, that the Oraheim Archive has had stored away for many years. Others contain documented demon sightings, all separated by kingdom and province. They are proof of her claims, Clara, and you
must deliver them with haste."
She wanted she ask why it had to be her... But she knew better. Amoret knew, too. There were callings in life... And it never did to ignore them, "You've my word. Absolute haste."
Smiling gravely, Amoret nodded her hand and reached over to envelope Clara in a warm embrace. "May the ones above protect and guide you on this journey, Clara, may they bless you..."
Almost awkwardly, Amoret released her charge and turned to the other bench. Gathering the needed scrolls, she handed them over to Clara one by one, indicating which was which so she would know when the moment presented itself.
"There is a staircase, at the back of this garden, that will lead you to a tunnel that crosses the entire complex. It will grant you access to the southern exit, one that not even the Judges below know about. Hurry, Clara, before it is too late."