This Is Not Our City (Faroul)

[Chijana]

56th of Summer, 511 AV The land was soft and cool in this place. The earth was wealthy, real dirt, fertile and watered by an estuary. Here the feet did not burn on hot grains of sand that bit skin and stung the eyes. It was rare for the Kalanue to emerge from the shifting dunes where the Hika-Zulrav churned. They were far north of the Redcliffs and had not come here for many years, but this summer was a dry one, and many of the small springs that Matsuki bid rise in this hot season had been shallow. The crows had flown north to gentler climes, and their people had followed. Chijana missed the familiar stones of her homeland, and the goats that listened so well as they skipped from ledge to ledge. But the cliffs of her people were a pebble in the sand compared to the gem that shone in her black eyes now. Syna was high in the sky and her rays caressed the pliable sandstone of the great city with care, twinkling mischievously when white marble peeked out from the earthy walls. The gate of Ahnatep was a shapely canyon that engulfed the caravans that flowed into its mouth as Matsuki’s streams travel through their riverbeds. The rapids here did not leap and froth with white foam as she had seen a river do once, but haggled and shouted, with strange words spurting out from the humble Benshiran hoods to crash against the glittering faces of the Eypharians. Waukaji sniffed at the dust hemmed robes of a trader, her white tail waving excitedly, bright and clear in the swirl of strange colors and cloths. The girl snapped her fingers, warning the dog to stay close by her side. Though her friend seemed at ease and eager to explore the sights of this strange place Chijana was uncertain. I do not speak the language of this city… Or any language well, she thought, recalling the words she had heard spoken of the strange people who had built the wonder. “They are harsh and proud, but beautiful.” She had heard that many times. “The Eypharians are demons, who were given so many arms to help the hoard the gifts of the desert. Their hearts are jealous and they do not share Matsuki’s gift.” She had heard that too, but doubted such stories. Nonetheless, it made her wary, walking into this city where such people probably saw her folk as little more than lizards that scrambled over the sands of wild lands. The arms are real! she thought, gaping for a moment at a bronzed man who held up six shining necklaces for a buyer, one in each hand. He shimmered as much as his stock, with some strange thing Chijana had never seen before was rubbed across his muscular chest. Her curious eyes wandered to his face, wondering if it would be as beautiful as the rest of him. He’s looking at me! She turned away quickly, afraid to meet his lovely kohl lined eyes. Chijana avoided looking at the people as she continued. They were stunning, marvelous, and as she listened to the hum that fluttered in her belly the girl was afraid of what they might think, seeing her wind burned lips and staring eyes. The crowds were making her nervous. People might try to speak to her if she stayed much longer in such a busy area, or worse question her. Chijana felt her throat tighten with anxiety at the thought of struggling to explain herself. Are all cities as busy as this one? she wondered. The press of the crowds had dulled her motion sense, smothering her in a persistent, meaningless sensation, the howl of the rush that ran up her fingertip drowning out all useful information. The crowds did not cease, though the great golden cliffs that had hemmed the small Chaktawe in did open up as buildings ceded to gardens. They were green, lush and beautiful; the girl had never seen such plants. The Eypharians who were present lounged as though the bloom was nothing interesting. They don’t seem to see what a great blessing Matsuki has allowed Caiyha to give them! she thought, awestruck more by the six armed people’s ignorance than she had been by their beauty. Incense flowed from a building on the other side of the plaza, where unearthly music could be heard humming. Sculptures gilded in gold shimmered beneath the oasis’s namesake, as the Eypharians strolled among them. None of this caught the Chaktawe’s attention as her eyes settled on the miracle of Matsuki. In the center of the plaza the fresh bloom of a spring chuckled pleasantly. Chijana could feel the refreshing tingle of moving water in her hands and she quickly moved closer. Waukaji let out a happy yip and skipped on her thin legs toward the spring, nearly overtaking Chijana. No! She can’t drink straight from the stream… the Chaktawe worried, concerned that any race with such a gift would take religious offence to a dog dipping its muzzle in the water. She snapped her fingers once again, and the splotchy dog froze, looking back with confused eyes. Though her ears drooped sadly she sat as Chijana gestured downward with a flat palm. “I know, don’t worry, we will both drink soon,” she whispered, patting the hot black fur on Waukaji’s head affectionately. She approached slowly, her feet making only soft noises as they spread across the stone path. The basin that collected the spring was stone too, and women came to dip lovely pots in the water, carrying them home in two arms while they held onto young children with the others. Chijana didn’t notice any hesitance in the mothers who came to water their flock, and so dipped her own flat waterskin into the cool spring. Waukaji whined. “Don’t worry, you're first,” she whispered. The dog’s black nose quivered as she lapped at the stream Chijana poured from the pouch for her. The girl winced as she watched the dark stain growing on the stone, so much water wasted by the flapping pink tongue. But I don’t want to risk letting her drink from the stream… Now it was her turn. She gulped quickly and greedily, draining her waterskin with little effort before reaching down to fill it again. Chijana had not drunk any water for seven days, and though her father had told her streams would appear in a day or two, her curiosity and thirst had overpowered the young girl. She drank the next skin-full more slowly, sitting on the pavement next to Waukaji and glancing warily about at the folk who had come to partake of this desert jewel.