The quietness of the tunnels was disarming, and prey made fatal mistakes in taking it for granted. The northern brush wavered, and the unchallenged sound of rubbing leaves, like the wind had blown through the brush, carried through the surface ruins about Zinrah. The opening ceremonies would not yet begin in Saxani's time. She felt for a routine, knowing her presence would not be demanded at once, though the masses were encouraged with much entertainment. Duty spoke to her, however, so she waited, still, silent, unwavering…
The stealth of the humans running through the jungle was of adequate skill. Even under the calls of birds and lesser apes though, Saxani was keen to catch the sound. She was very still, inhumanly so, under the shade of foliage. Her eyes were darkened further in this shadow, but they observed all the light touched with vicious judgment. She was as a human, and had tied her hair up with a knotted vine, though otherwise went bare besides her bow, quiver, and knife, all tucked snuggly in her harness. Her eyes followed the Myrian movements intently. They had not yet crossed a threshold as to be of danger, but felt an opportunity to strike all the same. Their movements were obvious, wanting to cross the outer ruins in a daring but resourceful maneuver to conserve precious time on their patrols. They had been doing little more though, Saxani had noticed, and thus acknowledged minimal threats.
She had wanted to draw her flying dagger, pluck the string to her instrument of death, and begin a new symphony of shouting and cries. Myrian blood was bound to be spilled this day regardless of her action, but there was a rewarding thought should her hand have a direct part to play. To honor her Mother-Goddess was always the utmost importance. It was obsessive, yes, but genuinely worth Saxani's while. Siku provided for her, and Saxani imagined the Goddess did so all the more than the Dhani had ever recognized; a silent, though ever-present mother, celebrating the successes of her daughter and nurturing her wounds. If not, Saxani had even begun to trust Caiyha a bit more, in all that she, Greatmother of the Dhani, provided.
Saxani was watching the Myrians in her study. She wanted to know how they moved, what they wore, how they spoke and acted, she wanted to be like them in the most desperate of means and for the most treacherous purposes. Saxani thought in a moment of clarity, as the sun struck the patrol in an opening in the thick vegetation and exposed their proud bodies, perhaps that is what set the Dhani and Myrians apart so much: the Myrians acted with a sort of cleverness, but proudly so, whereas the Dhani would do anything to achieve their ends. Which was more admirable? The firm stance of who they were as a people to stand so boldly in the light, or the cunning of her own that dared to act from even the darkest shadows? Silly fantasy filled her head briefly, comical thoughts of how deadly the combined forced of the Dhani and Myrians would be against the world. Gods would tremble before such a force, two races born or bred in the tutelage of the divine.
Saxani moved with cold dexterity, stone-like in her precision and form, moving only as necessity demanded to draw her bow and an arrow. She could get a broad shot in the chest from this distance, easily. She teased her string with the arrow in place, careful not to tense it so much that it might stretch. Her moment to strike was coming in a matter of seconds, but she reconsidered. Her younger self would have choked the bow a moment longer to gun a patrolman down with a barb in the neck, and lunged forward with knife and claw – for Saxani did manicure her nails to weapons with stone – ripping out the throat of the second, and piercing the skull of the third, and to swallow the fourth's head whole in her mouth. She didn't transform though, and relaxed the string and held still as they passed. She admired and dissected their running forms and formation. She made brief notes of the braids, beads, and bones. Even for the warrior there was an importance in appearance, it seemed. Dhani were concerned more with the attributes in their purity, but these Myrians sought ways to…showcase their talents. It would be their downfall.
She thought herself tactical in that session of observation. The patrol went past without notice of the Dhani spying. They might have been young blood on the blockade. Over a year now, since that fateful day where the Myrians were purged from the earth or left to their own great suffering, that's how long it had been since the djed storm. It had been a sign from the Gods that such oppression would not be tolerated, and the Dhani would spawn and bloom once again across the lands. Saxani withdrew from the outer perimeter and moved closer to the northern tunnel entrance, stopping briefly at a muddied pond in the sunken stone ruins.
This was a time to reflect before she reentered the courts below. She took in her hands a wad of mud and looked into the liquid mirror and began to paint her face with marks. The mud was gentle, with a light coarseness of grain like sand or worn stone in it, and even felt refreshing on the skin in some ways. Perhaps it was the coolness and moistness of the mud being in the shaded pool. She liked it very much. She was amused with the finished product of her amateur disguise, her muddy make up, and make-shift costume. She cleaned her hands in the pool and adjusted the strand in her hair as the ripples faded.
"Hello," she spoke to the mirror, her voice mimicking the Myrian tongue, her mouth struggling to restrain her native lisp in favor of the guttural Myrian accent. "Hello, sister. Hello, brother. Have you seen anything? Have you seen any Dhani?" She was amused to practice the name of her people with such false hatred. The folly of their feuds was becoming all the more evident, but she was sworn to her duties. "Where are the tigers? Where is the captain? Have you any food? Where are the supplies?" She knew nothing presently of salutes, and had not the change to watch Myrians in their private at length, only in ambush, which was brief. Sabotage at the blockade was a very sure strategy for weakening the forward forces. Cutting supply lines was vital to belaying any of the Myrian forward activities really, for the caravans were infrequent and precious, the trek from Zinrah to Taloba being long and treacherous in its own rite. Being nearer her home, it was an advantage, but Saxani acknowledged the vague challenge it would prove for the Dhani if ever they were to go on the offensive. That was another fantasy however.
Saxani scooped the water up and rubbed the mud from her face in vain, leaving instead faded streaks that mimicked caked blood in dim light. Appearance would mean nothing if her presence was late to the event and it would be starting soon. Saxani crept into the tunnel, watching forward and back for any oddities. She was always on guard.
Trekking through the tunnels on two legs was a bit of a challenge, but Saxani saw a gain from it. The north tunnels were steep, but doable for Myrians. She'd learn what movements and options they had, and knew from her own experience what was easier to move through as a serpent. Bow across her back, she used her free hands to grip the sloping ground or wall and watched her footing on the slippery rock. The illumination of glowstones began to show much later that she was used to, not realizing how much quicker the Dhani actually were before this experience. She also acknowledged her own loudness and lack of stealth. The Myrians were seeking mastery of their arts of war. Still, Saxani reflected once more on the countless Myrians that would be snatched up in the maws of Zinrah. For all their skill, the Dhani had an incredible advantage in their terrain and familiarity with the nest.
At last Saxani reached solid ground to walk across as a Myrian would, and descended through the rings to the inner sanctums of Zinrah, the main chambers. From there she merged with the crowd, truly just handfuls of Dhani who were straggling along to the shrine, and began to feel for the crowd. Her passing was as normal, save for her pauses at the statues of the Queens who came before. They had forged this city, and continued to do so. Saxani admired them for it, and sought to model their every attributes as noble rulers, strong in every way. Tanabis's statue still did no justice to her ageless beauty in the flesh; Saxani considered the few times she witness the Queen in person.
Her face was familiar to the guard, though her transition to this post from the hunting teams was recent. She was sure that they knew her face from any other Myrians for the sake of not being mistaken. Her disguise was mediocre at best, and very strange with its bareness, but some Dhani were too strong headed and uncouth with their combat, Saxani's opposites. This mirth was her weak point, this is where she provide naïve and uncouth, but experienced it with dignity and love for her culture.
At first she observed smoking, and objected it to a degree. She observed though as a Dhani of age began to make shapes in the smoke. Were her a wizard, he might bring it to life with reimancy.
"How is it," she asked.
"Plain, but sufficient; savory. You sound odd speaking like that."
"I'm comfortable as I am, however," Saxani contorted, acknowledging the human mouth was not made for Snaketongue. It was one more thing that she felt elevated the Dhani above humanity. "May I try?"
"Hmm, yes, but be slow if it is your first time, and don't breathe too deep." Her cautions were overlooked. Saxani took a deep hit from the wooden pipe. She felt the hot ash burning her throat, and choke her, and the heat in her lungs. She began to puff and cough a little bit, and the smoke leaked from her nostrils that also began to burn. It was smoky in flavor though, not a burnt crisp sense of the term either, and had a sort of salty savory flavor to it as the Dhani had mentioned. Saxani tried to hold it for a bit before exhaling and accidentally breathing it back in through her nose. The smoke was heavy.
"Very good," he said, mistaking her re-intake for something intentional. "Try this?" He stole from her the pipe and took in several deep puffs until his lungs were full, but twisted his mouth as if to swish something about. Her then opened his mouth and began to puff out solid rings that expanded and disappeared in the air. Saxani, still coughing a bit, was amused and applauded him. "You?" The pipe was in her hand without objection.
She drew in the hot air and felt her mouth water and senses flare at the taste. It was a bit finer this time around, and the ash flavor was clearer to the taste. She would not enjoy this regularly, but enjoyed the experience and tricks no less for moments like this holiday. Saxani then began to exhale, mouth closed, to gather the smoke, but let it leak from her nose a bit instead. When she went to try, she puffed out of her mouth, and let out nothing but shapeless clouds.
"I cannot do it," she protested, while smiling it might be noted. She didn't mind trivial failures, and had become much less critical of that aspect of herself.
"Nonsense, try again, but do not swallow the smoke. Hold it and I will help." She did as he said, and was more conscious of where she drew the smoke towards. "Now lift your tongue, and open your mouth to say 'Oh!' but do not breathe. Now watch at I just tap, tap…" he began to tap the side of her soft cheek and the rings came out, roughly formed but still successfully so. He stopped tapping when the smoke stopped and Saxani began to laugh. Nonsensical smoking meant nothing to the ceremony ahead, but was a sign no less that even the guard had the chance to relax during such a celebration. The roof of the shrine would not collapse, and any Myrians dumb enough to confront the whole host of Zinrah would die, even Myri. The male Dhani performed another trick on the ground below them, letting out the dense smoke and twirling it up in a twister. There were more applause and the revelry was unending.
Saxani then turned her attention toward a conversation. Why Siku's Solstice, that was the question. The name, what did it mean, in any and all senses of the word. It was part of their language, and thus should mean something.
"What is it you're talking about?"
"We celebrate the coming of Siku, and recognize this as her Solstice, but why, I pray?"
"Aye, and this lover thinks he knows why."
"Lover you say? You flatter me."
"You cannot help but stare. Be glad your breasts are covered, sister, he is more piggish than the humans that bare your present form."
"You wound me!"
"You were saying about the name of the festival, Siku's Solstice? Do tell," Saxani realigned the conversation.
"I know a little of the stars, you see, and we call this 'solstice' a time of year when Syna shines equally brightest or dimmest of all. You see in the sky her body appear at different angles even."
"Angles? I don't follow." Saxani had an idea, but liked to make sure the Dhani knew what it was he spoke of.
"Yes, tell her of angles. He knows much of arithmetic too, a scholar in the cave."
"I object to that joke. We can do much more than any ego bloated scholar from his library from our nest. Please, continue, brother."
"Well I see you are a huntress of sorts, or at least an archer. The angle at which you pitch your bow is measured from the shoulder at your torso, where your arm becomes the marker for how wide the angle is relative to a horizon that exists at the top of your chest, like so," and he demonstrated the lifting of his arm and an approximation of the X plane. "Now imagine the movement of the sun over time, a year, it begins to shift such that the highest point moves across the sky – but not in the same fashion that day turns to night, but across such that you might…wave an arrow. It oscillates like the string on your bow. It…how can I say this? It may spin around like a ball on a string, but then at a different angle, such that at the same time every day, though the sun may be at the dusk hour, it appears on one side of the horizon or another, sometimes utterly out of view one solstice over another!"
"Well said. Do you understand him?"
"Yes, so how does this work with the solstice?"
"Well, you see, the solstice will then mark when the sun is her brightest, and in such a case the day is longest. Some suspect the sun even looks bigger, but don't tell her. The opposite is true in the winter months as she grows small and the day is shortest. As you can tell though, this is neither summer now winter, but the sun does not dictate Siku either."
"So you're saying Siku is meant to be either at her prime?"
"Or her low, her zenith or nadir; that is her highest point or the lower point, we attribute this to a sphere." The Dhani snatches a rock and began to demonstrate on the imperfect shape.
"This is just a theory though?"
"Correct. I only can speak for the stars, unless that Goddess should protest she is spoken for. Alas, I trust the priestesses would reveal that to you were you to ask. In any case, this time is precious to Siku. I can think of few things, such as harvest. We mate too often to suggest that might be it. It may have nothing to do with us though, and all to do with her. It might even be a story of our coming to be! Could it be that it was at this time years ago when Caiyha and SIku first gave birth to the regal Queen and the first Dhani? It is not something we have in our tradition that I am aware of, and it can be unnerving. The priestesses must know, though, or else Siku has a secret to hold from us."
"He has been drinking much, and assumes more. Please do not mind his offense. We will temper him." Saxani nodded, taking the slight against Siku lightly. The opening performances were beginning and most of the crowd was in awe. Saxani picked out what was wrong though, the differences and instead observed the Dhani off to the side of the chamber who were otherwise unmoved by the celebration. Saxani moved her hair behind her shoulders entirely and began to walk over, being obvious in her stride and the sway of her hips, mimicry of her slithering tail over the stone. Her vicious glare met the abusive constrictor who had pinned the viper as the slits in Saxani's eyes began to form. She had to pause to complete a full and true transformation. The forming of scales allowed some movement, but she would need to pause or trip over herself otherwise. The vine in her hair dropped to the earth and she realigned her eyes in the new form of her skull, claws clasped on her visage. Her eyes rolled back to place and she moved forward to investigate the disturbance in the corner. The reimancers were not burning their souls for the hell of it, and this was at least disrespectful.
"Is all well here?" Saxani asked Kalesserimamoru directly, paying minimal attention to the viper. Saxani just wanted to make sure she wouldn't bite if anything. The guard's armaments signaled they shared a bond in Zinrah's defense. He'd know what was going on. Their ignorance of the spectacle at the head of the shrine might have been justified after all. Soshakuakamamushi received a glance at best from Saxani's flat colored eyes. There was no glare to bring any suitable brightness to her eyes, making her menacing appearance a bit clearer. Not all guards were fond of outsiders. |
