[The Garden of Concubines] Festival of Dira

[Colombina]

When looking back on the instant, Hirem would be struck by how quickly a life and purpose could shatter.

His forcefully thrown elbow missed its intended mark, barely glancing off a set of raised hands. The Eypharian had been lulled out of vigilance by the spirit of the party. The lax mood dampening his response time.

Hirem’s blow struck the Jibade’s chin, though, sending him reeling into a table. The Jibade gripped the table in an attempt to keep his balance, only to pull its covering off.
The contents of the table table clattered to the ground, bringing plates and full vessels to the floor, much of their content spilling on the Jibade’s feet.

Before Osahar could straighten his legs, Jackals were laying their hands on Hirem. Two were at his side, one behind him with a khopesh needling his spine.

Another Jackal was lifting Osahar by the elbow. Slaves were at the Jibade’s feet, picking up the overturned cups.

The Jackal at Osahar’s side growled a command in Arumenic, without looking away from Hirem.

The soldiers wore helmets that bore the face of their namesake, covering their faces above the mouth. Though Hirem couldn’t discern much on the Jackal’s expression, a strong cloud of malice lingered.

Osahar was adjusting his linen kilt and sparse jewelry. He spoke to the head Jackal in Arumenic. His tone was conciliatory, and interspersed with embarrassed chuckles.
One of Osahar’s hands gestured loosely towards Hirem as he spoke, revealing a disconcerting symbol. On the palm of the Eypharian’s hand was a gnosis mark Hirem knew well, a single letter from the name of Yahal.

Before the Benshira could recover from this revelation, a shaken Zulo appeared.

“Did you hire this man?” The Jackal demanded of the Myrian in common.

Retaining a mature calm, Zulo answered, “Yes, just for the event.”

“Do you know him, well?”

Zulo paused, choosing his words carefully, “Well enough. Liviya vouched for him and I trust her judgment.”

The Jackal’s mouth became an unforgiving line.
“He has struck a Jibade. You understand the gravity of this.”
Zulo said nothing, only let the Jackal glare through his menacing helmet.

“Bring me this Liviya.”

[Hirem]

Hirem lost all feeling in his limbs by now, held up only be the iron grips of the Jackals. His mouth was wide open, shock and horror covering his face as he could only stare at the Gnosis mark on Osahar's hand. It was Yahal's.

This is impossible! Why would Yahal lead me here to kill this man, marked by him? By the desert, what have I done?

People had already gathered around the scene, but the Jackals were slowly pushing them away, clearing the scene of the attempted crime. The only ones that were allowed through were the nobles, and they all stared at the scene in shock, heading over to Osahar to question him vigorously. The Jackals, Zulo, and Hirem were left to themselves.

The only word that he could manage was a strangled, "No!", at the command for Liviya. The Jackal turned his iron gaze upon Hirem, and despite the masks that covered their faces, Hirem felt the cold grip of fear tighten around his heart.

He did his best to return the gaze though, feeling his knees shaking in anxious wait. "No... she was tricked as you were, Zulo. I used you both in this... The fault is mine, and mine alone."

[Colombina]

When the Jackal commanded for the concubine to be brought forward, Osahar interceded in common. He pressed through the gathering nobles to make his point heard.
"This was just clumsiness, Naret, not a cri--"

Naret interrupted him, ironically showing little deference for rank.
"Striking a Jibade, purposeful or not, is a crime." His voice was flat and dry now, without temper or enthusiasm.
"It assaults the order we have bled to maintain."

These nobles were desert nomads, scarcely aware of Ahnatep's strictures. No matter their origin, Naret was sworn to uphold the law regarding them. Be they rough horse traders or the most delicate and and pure of blood, they were of the Syna blessed line.

HIrem's outburst made all faces turn towards him. Osahar blinked behind his mask, unsure of what had really transpired.

"Fault?" Osahar marveled, "What fault?"

Naret quickened, smelling blood.
"Take the Jibade to the Pressorah, no doubt she is worried," he crisply commanded a Jackal.
As Osahar followed after a Jackal, he glanced worriedly over his shoulder at Hirem.

"Bring me Liviya," Naret repeated.
"Let us go indoors," he smoothly added.

The general furor of Hirem's arrest was dimmed as the Jackals swiftly took him aside into one of the rooms in the surrounding structure. It was a shallow foyer of marble and sandstone with wide smooth columns, sparsely furnished.

Hirem was still held by a pair of Jackals at his elbows. Naret motioned for Hirem to kneel, since there were no chairs.
"Are you working alone? What was your purpose in striking the Jibade?"

Naret paused, "You are going to Hai to be eaten by the monsters there, Chupra, or you will be killed if the gods have mercy. Silence will not save you. Honesty might."

[Hirem]

His heart rapidly sunk down to his knees as the Jackals escorted Hirem through the garden to the foyer, and he could only let his head hang. I made them absolutely sure of my convictions... now they know I am dangerous. He couldn't decide if that was what he had wanted or not.

Once he was told to kneel, he had no choice. He fell down to his knees on the marble floor, making sure the impact was hard enough for him to curse at the decision. In his mind, he was not kneeling before Naret, the Jackal guard that was intent on bringing him harm. He was instead kneeling before Yahal to answer for his sins. And Hirem knew that the answers he gave would have to satisfy both entities.

"I am working on my own, solitary in my beliefs and duty. I was... " He bit his lip, and moved his head defiantly upwards to stare into the eyes of Naret. In them, he saw stone and iron, the foundations of Ahnatep conveyed in his vision.

"I thought I was being commanded by my god to strike down your Osahar." He corrected, keeping his head turned upwards. He knew that the Jackal likely had no time for this explanation, but he wasn't going to lie for this man's sake.

"I thought my path was being guided... now, I am not so sure." Hirem tried to make his eyes become hard iron like Naret, but he knew that the desert wanderer, the once kind and wise student of Yahebah turned deluded warrior would never have so much malice and cold in his gaze. "Do your worst. I am not afraid. I've already had the worst done to me."

[Colombina]

"Your god?" Naret calmly replied, "Interesting if it is true."
The Eypharian didn't pace or fidget as he spoke. He was unnervingly in control of his whole body.
"And what god would that be?"

Hirem's attention was ripped from the Jackal to the jangle of coins on a veil and the foot fall of soldiers. Liviya was stepping lightly between the Jackals.

Her levity drained when she saw Hirem on his knees and the stern Naret.
"Kalen?" she cried, "What is going on?"

Naret turned his head slightly, answering the concubine in a calm voice.
"Kalen, was just telling me how his god instructed him to strike down the Jibade. He has yet to tell me which god, but I have a strong suspicion as to who."

Naret turned the rest of his body toward Liviya. Her olive skin was turning sallow with fear.
"Who is your primary god, little Benshira?"

Liviya's hand was near her mouth, ready to guard her lips. Her cheeks blushed with shame, and her bright eyes watered. She was trembling, but pressed her feet into the floor becoming a pillar.

Her voice lost its bewitching lilt, deepening to the bronze tone of a desert born woman.

"Though I am far from pure. I worship Yahal." Her eyes burned like coals, "The god of my people."

[Hirem]

Hirem couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for the sudden sense of pride and culture that had emerged from his concubine friend. Liviya had a definite sense of Benshiran pride underneath all her Eypharian class and elegance. Now that it was out in the open, she could have been in any situation, wearing anything, painted like anyone, and she still would have appeared as a strong Benshiran woman.

He bowed his head at her, and tried to muster an accepting smile for the Benshiran. "I am glad that you too share my beliefs, Liviya." He turned his head back to Naret, emboldened by the appearance of the true woman behind all the pomp and bluster. "I assure you though, this task was mine and mine alone."

He felt a stab in his confidence at this point, and his spine almost seemed to deflate as he appeared to hang from the strong grips of the Jackals. What if this task had not been issued by Yahal, though? What if it was some deluded fantasy conjured up by him after years of roaming the deserts?

"I... may have deluded myself in this matter, though. Now, it is just men and women that stand here at the end, not gods." He stared up once more into the eyes of Naret, and he once more took the defiant, proud look in his face, lifting his jaw nobly towards the Jackal. "I am not afraid."

[Colombina]

Liviya smiled softly sensing Hirem's pride, but the warmth of feeling could not linger.

"You share a god. She recommended you to Zulo. And here she stands smiling at you despite your shame," Naret observed quietly.

"In Ahnatep when we are unsure of an accomplice's guilt the punishment is lighter. The loss of a hand. Sadly, the effect is not the same for foreigners. Which is precisely why we discourage them within our city."

Naret looked at Hirem as he announced, "Take her hand."

Liviya's voice was a pang of grief, inarticulate sounds and lines of Shiber only Hirem could understand: prayers and protests. She struggled briefly, but was held fast by half a dozen arms. They pushed her to the floor, bowing her forward until her forehead touched the ground. Another grabbed her right wrist and drew her arm out.

"Ah," Naret interrupted, "The left. I am not so cruel."

A fourth jackal withdrew his khopesh and began to walk toward the whimpering concubine.

"After this we will take you to the cells in the Courtyard of Jackals," Naret explained, "And then to Hai or death."
The Jackal sighed, "All this over misguided religious zeal."
He tilted his head, no easy feat in the elaborate helmet, "Or perhaps that is just the pretty mask you have put on your hatred."

[Hirem]

Hirem let out a loud cry of rage as they pushed Liviya to the ground. He made a thrashing motion, but he was forced down onto the ground by a perfectly aimed kick from one of his Jackals. He dropped down onto the cold marble floor, colder than anything Hirem had ever experienced. He groaned in pain as a large boot was placed upon his back, sending spasms of pain over his body. "Do not move. You will watch this." The Jackal restraining him whispered, with a hint of pleasure in watching the Benshiran struggle in vain.

These Jackals were made from metal, Hirem reflected. They were ground from the sands and rocks of the desert and refined into cold, calculating guardians of the highest jewels of the desert. They had to love pain, he considered as he watched the Jackal with the khopesh approach Liviya. They had to, for no one else in Eyktol would love it.

Liviya's struggles made Hirem's heart ache with agony as he watched her pain-stricken face move slightly to him. Their eyes met, and they both shared a look as the guard slowly moved in towards her. In his eyes, he tried to convey all the sadness and remorse he could possibly fit into them, but he knew it wasn't enough.

Now, Osahar was alive and Liviya was going to lose a hand. And for what? A silly religious crusade by him to wipe out all Eypharians. Was Naret right? Was he so full of hate that it disgusted even him, and so he put on a pretty guise to distract his mind? Hirem could only think of this as the horrible evening continued onward.

[Colombina]

The khopesh wielder was merciful, aiming to remove with one blow. There was a slick sound then the thud of metal on stone, punctuated by Liviya’s shriek.

Her hand had made a fist just before being cleaved. It rolled to the side as her arm began to drizzle blood, the bursts timed with the beat of her heart.

Naret shooed the blubbering Liviya and the restraining Jackals away.
“Get a servant in here to clean the floor. The concubines will have a fit if it stains. And see that she’s wrapped up.”

The lead Jackal sighed as he looked down on Hirem.
“What a mess you’ve made. And for what?”

Naret was silent for a beat. With his expression covered, the reason for his muteness was unknown. He eventually gave his final command.

“Take him to the cells. He’s not an Eypharian so we won’t have the delay of any hearing.”

A spare Jackal came towards Hirem with a drawstring bag of what might have been silk, strangely luxurious for its purpose. The pouch was fitted over Hirem’s head and drawn tight. His wrists were circled in cold manacles but his feet left free for the journey.

Smothered in black, Hirem was jerked to his feet and marched out of the gardens. He could still here the beautiful sounds of the enduring party as he left. Nothing had stopped out of reverence for what he and Liviya were losing.

[Colombina]

The XP Wand Is Waved! Thanks for finishing the thread with me Hirem! I hope you had fun. Hirem 2 XP Interrogation 1 XP Disguise 1 XP hand to hand Lore of Eypharian Jackals Lore of the story of Emiah and Temimah