New Arrival (Kassan)

[Ils'a]

Summer 80, 512

With a steady stroke, Ils’a approached the sandy shoreline. She had heard tales of this place, this city. The residents of Nyka weren’t known for their open armed hospitality. The monks were especially confrontational, from what little she knew of their culture. She hadn’t come to take up residence here. It was curiosity that brought her – she had wanted to explore the various cities and regions of Mizahar. The Konti had set out from Mura, the island where she had lived all her life, with the exception of her many excursions to explore places closer to the island. This was the farthest that she had travelled, and she had found it a tiring trip. She was as at home in the sea as on the land. So landfall would not necessarily be more restful. She could sleep in the waves themselves. But the ocean could be quite dangerous and sometimes it was hard to find a sheltered spot in which to curl up. The land could be equally dangerous, especially an unfamiliar place, and perhaps this place. On the other hand, most places held their own brand of danger. If she wanted to learn more about her world, she could not avoid risk.

Cautiously, Ils’a poked her fair head out of the surf, surveying the beach. She turned this way and that, but saw no-one. She resumed swimming until her delicate feet with the webbed toes hit the ocean bottom, and she began to walk. Soon enough, her upper body was exposed to the air, and then her thighs, and then she was stepping onto the smooth, flat wet sand. Pulling off her small pack, she extracted a simple dress that would dry quickly in the bright sun. Climbing up to the edge of the beach, she spread the garment on a large flat grey rock, and sat beside it, knees pulled up to her chest. Running her fingers through her hair to fan it out so it too would dry, she soaked in the warmth of the late summer day. She looked to the north west, knowing the city lay in that direction. By her estimate it was no more than half a league away.

With gulls circling and calling overhead, Ils’a sat and contemplated her next step while her dress dried in the afternoon sunshine.

[Ils'a]

Ils’a next drew from her pack a pair of sandals, crafted of thick seal skin leather sewn over with somewhat waterproof cured seal intestines. The outer wrapping kept a good part of the moisture out and helped the footwear to last that much longer. These she set to dry as well, besides the dress. Her eyes then returned to the gulls wheeling overhead, and she observed them for a few minutes. She was rewarded by seeing a small object falling from the sky, having been dropped by one of the birds. It hit a rock with a resounding crack and Ils’a let the bird swoop down and peck at the soft body of the clam now exposed through the broken shell.

She rose from her perch and went down to the wet sand. As the waves brushed against her toes, she bent and hunted for the tell tale bubbles, and the holes that were revealed by the receding water. In a half hour, she had dug out a good size pile of the mollusks, and these she put in her pack, for eating later. She could enjoy them raw. But she also found steaming or boiling them, or adding them to a broth, was equally as good. Having no clear idea what she would find in the city, in terms of food that she could eat, she thought it best to be prepared to feed herself.

By this time, her dress was mostly dry and she pulled it over her head. It reached to her knees and was sleeveless, a bleached white, very simply made with no distinct shape to it. If she decided to stay on the land for any length of time, she might buy something else with the small amount of money she had brought with her from Mura. Otherwise, this one would suffice. She took out a comb and got most of the tangles out of her shoulder length hair. This she kept rather short for ease of upkeep. Letting it blow about her neck, loose, she slipped her feet into her sandals, slung her pack onto her back, and set out in the direction of the city.

Walking along the beach was easy, her footwear leaving faint traces in the damp sand close to the water’s edge. But she had heard that the only way to enter Nyka was via the one gate, which stood on the western side of the wall that surrounded and protected the city. So after walking about a quarter league along the coastline, she veered inwards, and set out overland. Now she kept a wary eye out, both for wild beats and any other creature, man included, who might view her approach with hostility, or hunger. But she was fortunate and had no untoward encounters.

Soon, in the distance she spotted the rosy-grey wall and she made a path somewhat parallel to it, though in a curving arc that eventually brought her to the road leading to the gate. Setting foot upon this, she found herself a part of a fair stream of people, most who appeared human, going to and from the city. They were for the most part dressed in bright clothing, though there was an abundance of drab, brown robes amongst them. To a one, almost, any who did not simply ignore her outright, would scowl or glare at her, as if her presence was offensive. This was more than a bit offputting. But Ils’a had already been warned, back in Mura, by those who knew about Nyka. They had told her it was not the friendliest of cities. But then again, neither were the others that were closest to the White Isle – Ravok, Sunberth, Sahova. The young Konti had dithered a bit, about whether to strike for Zeltiva, which seemed at least a bit more open, and hospitable, to strangers. The university there was probably responsible for that, to some extent. But Zeltiva was very far away, and Ils’a thought it would be a shame to avoid these other places just because the inhabitants might not be the friendliest. In her naivety, Ils’a had greatly discounted how unfriendliness might translate to indifference, and thus an increased risk that, if some harm threatened her, it wasn’t very likely anyone would care enough to come to her aid. In that respect, Mura was a much safer place – the Konti cared about each other, and took care of each other. Here, she could not expect strangers to have her back if danger reared its ugly mug.

So the Konti simply ignored the unwelcoming glances of those she passed, and kept walking towards the gates. Close up, they were imposing, like a trap door that might shut at any moment, to keep people out, or keep them in. She wasn’t exactly nervous as she approached and then was actually passing through them, though again, the guards on duty gave her some sharp looks. Keeping her eyes straight ahead, she just kept walking, and in the end, none of them questioned her. Once inside, she had a moment of nervousness, thinking again how the gates could keep people in as well as out. She would make sure that she was back outside well before dark, so that she could return to the sea and sleep safely in the waves.

[Ils'a]

Not knowing specifically where she should head, Ils’a found herself moving along the narrow streets, looking about. She appeared to be on a major thoroughfare, and people moved in both directions, as well as carts and a few animals. Some men passed mounted on horses, which seemed very large and rather alarming to the Konti. Again, she received many an unfriendly look, and eyes that seemed to say move along there you, move along! So she kept walking. At one point, she passed in front of a modest looking gate which appeared to give onto a pretty courtyard beyond. It was the sign, really, that caught her attention. Translucent crystal and silver glittered in the bright early afternoon sunlight, which illuminated the words ‘The Blinding Light Studio’ surmounted by a shimmering image of a gem. Ils’a paused to peek inside the gate, wondering if it was, as she surmised, a jeweler’s store of some sort. But as she stood there, yet another brown robed monk was moving towards the entrance, and he scowled at her, so quickly, she began walking again. It was slightly frustrating, but she thought maybe as she got more towards the center of the city, she might find more accessible places to spy out the local culture.

Ultimately, Ils’a found herself crossing a bridge, and then things opened out a bit and there seemed to be a different feel here. She was moving closer to a high tower. It seemed to be the tallest structure in the city. And then the road she was on spilled out into a central square. To her quiet satisfaction, she saw that it was set up as a market, and goods of all kinds were on display in carts and stalls, or simply spread out on the ground. With great interest, she wandered about, looking over all of it, not necessarily planning on buying anything. Not yet. Not unless something in particular caught her eye. She was keeping her eyes open especially for jewelery, but no matter where she looked, she saw none. That was odd, she thought. The citizens of Nyka certainly wore jewelry. Many of them she had seen had one or more pieces, in many different styles. And Nyka itself was well known for its craftsmanship in jewels and precious stones and metals. With a puzzled frown, she finally approached a vendor. A woman dressed in a very bright, pretty skirt and blouse was selling pottery pieces, and she looked up at the Konti’s approach, only to scowl, of course. Ils’a was getting used to it. But she was determined to ask her question regardless.

“Excuse me, please. Where can I see some jewelry?”

The woman’s scowl deepened and she tsk’ed in disgust at this display of foreign ignorance. “They don’t sell it here!” she replied, her tone clearly implying that anyone with a brain ought to know that.

Ils’a waited patiently for more information, but none was forthcoming. She tilted her head a bit, curious about this strange place. But the woman made a shooing motion with her hand. “Move along there, unless you intend to buy something.”

Realizing that this woman at least would not be answering her questions, Ils’a walked on once more. In her quest for jewelry, she had covered most if not all of the market, and there wasn’t anything she wished to buy. But she was developing a thirst, and she now looked about for a stall selling food and drink. Once again though, she saw none, and she thought back and realized that she hadn’t seen any. How exceptionally odd.

The Konti wandered only a few minutes more, peering here and there, but no, there were no food vendors. Once again determined to find out what she could, she approached a brown robed monk. Surely they should provide information to visitors to their city? Or so she hoped.

“Excuse me, please,” she began once again. “Where can I get a drink?” She did not recognize the symbols of Uphis that adorned the man’s simple robes. But at least she got a reply.

The monk looked at her as if she was indeed brainless. With a sneer he said, “Try the Sharp Tongue. I’m sure a dullard like you will be well placed there.”

Ils’a looked at him, and asked, “Where will I find this place?”

He snorted, but jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Over the bridge. The new one,” he added, as if addressing a simpleton.

Ils’a nodded and said a polite but quiet, “Many thanks,” before moving off in the indicated direction. That the bridge she came to was very, very new, or of its origins, she of course knew nothing. But as she crossed over it, she happened to reach and touch one of the stones with her delicately webbed fingers and she almost fell to the stones, such was the overwhelming sense of the chavena that had been cut off and twisted - such a large number. Such sadness and loss. She pulled her hand back as if she had been burnt, and almost ran to get across the bridge.

On the far side, she paused, hypeventilating. For a Konti, Ils’a was not one that was overly adept at reading the chavena of others. But she did have the mark of Avalis, an iridescent lily that curled up her neck, beneath her left ear. Looking back over her shoulder at the bridge, constructed of the same rosy grey stone as the rest of the city, she could only wonder at the intensity of what she had felt. She could not read the chavena of the dead, so there must have been an incredibly strong aura of spirits surrounding this place. With a slight shudder, she turned to move on, to look for this Sharp Tooth. As she turned, she came face to chest with yet another brown robe. She very nearly collided with the monk. Looking up, she apologized, but thought once more to ask for directions.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Can you please tell me, where would I find the Sharp Tooth?”

She fully expected to be treated with scorn. But she was really quite thirsty at this point, and if he would only tell her where she should go, she didn’t particularly care what he thought of her and her foreigness.

[Kassan]

The days grew cooler, as the very cusp of Summer lingered over the city. The Autumn approached, with its milder temperatures, and light winds. It seemed though, as Kassan looked around at men with no shirts, and women in loose clothing, that the Nykan people still clung to the bygone warmth. Kassan was interrupted from his patrol by a near collision with a Konti. She was small framed, delicate like a flower. He had seen a few of the White Women in his time. Seers from the Konti Isle. They were a curious people, and their influence could be found across Mizahar. "This can be a rowdy city at times," he said slowly, "you should be careful where you tread, Konti." The girl looked desperate, weary. Had she been travelling? She had the look of hunger and thirst about her. When she asked for the Sharp Tooth, Kassan knew what she meant, and decided to help her. "You refer to the Sharp Tongue?" he asked rhetorically, "well you are in the right quarter, at least. I can show you where it is, if you're willing to stay close and follow."

[Ils'a]

Sharp Tongue? Oh dear, she wasn’t an idiot but she must be sounding like one at this moment. Still, Ils’a didn’t hear the expected tone of dismissal in the monk’s voice, though he did chastise her just the tiniest bit. And more importantly, he was offering to actually guide her to the place where she hoped to get a cup of water. She nodded eagerly, from a combination of relief, thirst and appreciation.

“The Sharp Tongue,” she corrected herself. “Yes, thank you. That would be very helpful, and kind…sir.’

She wasn’t sure what title to use in addressing a monk, but they seemed very imposing, despite their rough garments. So she went for respectful and hoped it would do.

Falling into step beside him, and sticking close just as he had instructed, she asked curiously, “Your city is divided into quarters? Why is that?” She had heard, of course, about the four alvina. But she was a bit murky on what the quartering represented, beyond simply making it easier for people to know what part of town they were in, or where they needed to go to find a certain shop, or residence.

[Kassan]

Kassan nodded softly at the Konti, a hint of a smile playing on his face. Foreigners treated monks with... confused and addled emotions. "You need not call me sir," he said slowly, before smiling more visibly, "though I will certainly thank you for the compliment." Respect was gratifying, from wherever it came. He could not complain so easily, when so many visitors to Nyka were so ignorant of the Celestials and their servants. As they walked, the Konti asked a question. She showed knowledge, but she wanted more answers. Kassan often answered visitors questions. There was nothing redeemable that came from silence. "Nyka - the Mother City - is not ruled by one man, or one God. It is ruled by four Alvina, the Celestials. The city is quartered according to their governance, each Celestial harbouring their own sect of monks. The North Quarter is my home, as Uphis is my Lord and Father. Have you seen the Aperture? The dark chasm provides a most natural divide upon our city. Nyka is a city of oneness as much as it is one of four quarters though." Kassan did not look at her as he spoke and walked. He hoped she would listen to his explanation with curiosity.

[Ils'a]

Ils’a was truly surprised to see a smile on the monk’s face. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen people smiling, here in Nyka. But so far, none had smiled at her slight intrusions into their day. They tended to be a scowly lot here, when it came to newcomers, or maybe it was just her different looks, though she guessed it was the former, more than the latter. In any case, she was quietly pleased that at least here was one man who didn’t seem completely annoyed with her.

She listened to him as they walked, his long stride forcing her to hustle to keep by him. At his mention of the aperture, she could not avoid a shudder, thinking of the bridge that she had just crossed.

“I see. Your city must be quite a model of harmony, to be ruled by four and not just one. It’s good that the Alvina get along so well.” She looked at his garb and asked, “Is that why you wear the different insignia? On your robes? To show which Alvina and quarter you belong to?”

Her voice became more quiet as she said, “Yes, I have just crossed this aperture. That bridge was…so full of pain. Is it…it looked…new?” She looked over to the monk with a thoughtful expression on her face.

“How did your city fare in the storm, si…uh, what shall I call you if not sir? I don’t know your name. Mine is Ils’a, by the way.”