What Sammi saw...
Back to school! They won't all be morning updates, but this one is.
Halfway to the well, Warda began to feel there was something wrong. Although, not wrong, but different. Very different from the feeling of the other girls attempts. Sammi didn’t look stiff or uncomfortable, but she seemed as though she was so far out of her head a little push would send her over. Suddenly her eyes lit up as bright as the full moon, their light shone back up and illuminated her small, pale face. Her lips were moving, sounding something out too quietly for Warda to hear. She wanted to run to Sammi’s side and snap her out of it. She started to believe in demons and possessions after all and wanted to make sure that the thing she left the temple with was the same child with whom she’d walked in. Yet at the same time she somehow knew to stop her would be horribly dangerous. So Warda compromised, edging a bit at a time, quietly but quickly, until she was on the steps behind Sammi. It must have only taken a couple of minutes, but to Warda it felt like half the night. Over Sammi’s shoulder she saw a temple half buried in white sand, deep down in the night of the well. White desert lions stalked outside, but as she watched a black cat slipped between them, they didn’t mind, down into the temple. Over the door, the five moons of Vistara’s crown in a bower of ivy and roses. Warda knew she would have to go there. She was stopped from wondering why as Sammi’s eyes blinked, the vision disappeared, and the girl fell sideways. Warda caught her. She was very light, and her breathing was coming very quickly. Warda lifted her and laid her on the great stones around the well. They were cool and should help to calm her, she thought.
“What did she say?” there was no mistaking the cool, clear voice of the Grandmother of Jahayna who had taken up Warda’s previous position in the door. The others, it seemed, were either involved in getting Madam down the stairs or had given the evening up as finished and had gone to their own rooms.
Warda looked up slowly, making sure Sammi was comfortable before she answered, “nothing, yet. I mean, she was talking, but I couldn’t hear her. I ... saw something. Is that normal?”
“Frankly, no,” said the High Priestess, “but then she is the most powerful Oracle I have ever seen, and I have been within these walls nearly seventy cycles.”
Warda wasn’t sure what came next. She felt she should probably start talking about the vision first, but there was something about confessing new and disturbing experiences to someone who you only knew by title that didn’t quite sit right.
“I’m sorry, Oh, erm, Grandmother of Jahayna, Keeper of Secrets, but, um, is it very rude to ask your name?” Warda looked down at Sammi’s still unconscious form, testing her temperature, rather than look at this revered and sombre woman in case she had thoroughly offended her.
“Vis-Zhari,” she said, “a bit of a mouthful, I know, although before I had my chain or even my robe it was simply Zhari. So, what did you see, child? You must be quite close to the girl, to have seen with her powers. Then again, it has been said that the Great Oracles before the End of All Magic were able to channel images that stood out of the water and shone for the whole congregation to see. It has been a long time. A long time indeed.”
Even with her name, the High-Priestess still worried Warda a great deal. There was a hunger in those eyes that suggested a sensible answer was better than a true one, at least until Sammi was awake. She seemed to know a great deal more about this.
“Well, it was all quite hazy. There were five moons, like your ceremonial crown, and the doorways, except it wasn’t on this temple, it was somewhere in the Ghost Desert, half buried in the sand. Are there temples in the desert, Vis-Zhari, your holiness?”
“There are,” Vis-Zhari mused, “but they are long forgotten. No one would now make the effort to cross those hostile sands or face the beasts that live there just to worship. But when magic was also ours to know, as the scriptures and stories are still. Then it was much easier to perform rites where you would. Hidden rites, in the Silver Desert ... it isn’t unheard of. What else? There must have been something else? Something symbolic?”
Just then, Warda was saved any more thinking as Sammi murmured and shifted slightly. Warda looked down and got her arms around her so she wouldn’t slip off the wall. Vis-Zhari walked briskly down the stairs and straight to the steps of the Depths. She nudged Warda out of the way and looked down into Sammi’s face.
“Child? What is your name, child? What did you see?” she asked insistently. She was holding Sammi’s head and shaking just a little. Warda was worried about Sammi being dizzy, or what could happen if the High Priestess didn’t get an answer which made her happy.
“I saw ... I saw the moon inside a rose, and it was safe, and the rose wasn’t white like magic, it was pink, like a mother’s rose, and it grew in desert sand,” she said. Warda observed how her voice was distant, but not uncontrolled, and was impressed that Sammi had not given her name. Warda presumed, if Sammi had her way, she never would tell.
“Good, child,” coaxed Vis-Zhari, “you’re doing very well, we know about the moon in the rose, but you’ve seen it so much clearer than Atfa’ali, you clearly do have the gift. What else did you see, my child?”
“Lions,” replied Sammi, “lions. In the desert.”
“And a temple in the desert, yes, where ceremonies were once held. Tell me, child, did you see Vistara returning? Did Tiffel speak truely? Is this temple in the desert her chosen place? Do Garatha’s lions stand guard, does he mean to stop her while she is weak and claim all the souls and the armies of ancestors for himself?”
Warda watched as Sammi made a good show of thinking hard and trying desperately to show she knew how important this was and trying to remember.
“The temple was all covered in dust,” she said, “I think it’s dead. That temple is dead, or magic is, or something. Everything walked away from the temple.” Sammi even managed a tear from the corner of her eye.
The High Priestess’ hands tightened a little one last time, then she seemed to change her mind. “Alright, child, alright, you don’t have to remember it all now. Katabi, do you have all that down?”
“Yes, oh my mother, every word!” Warda looked round the well and saw the scribe, who she had forgotten about once Sammi’s vision started. If the High Priestess was old she was ancient. Her mouth was puckered in as it was all gums and her eyes could barely be seen. Wisps of white hair were held back with a black headscarf but her robes were purple and her face held so much joy and hope that Warda wanted to tell the rest of the story to help her, even though having seen Sammi’s play-acting she knew she’d made the right choice.
“Very well,” said Vis-Zhari, drawing herself back up to her full height and stepping away from Sammi, “There are plenty of rooms spare here, my child, you should sleep here tonight, in case you remember anything else for the morning. Your nanny can take news to your parents of where you are.”
“Oh no!” cried Sammi, pulling herself up to sit on the edge of the well, “you can’t! They don’t know! My father is well known to the Shar and I had to sneak out and if Hagar goes back alone she’ll be beaten!”
It took Warda a few moments to realise that she was Hagar, but once she had she tried to look as worried as she could about a beating. She realised her own father may beat her anyway, and soon her own act had true conviction behind it.
Vis-Zhara wasn’t pleased, but she knew it wouldn’t help her chances to hold a nobleman’s daughter captive. She stifled a sigh by making her back even straighter, and then she said, “Very well, in that case, Tiraza will walk with you to your house, to see you return safely. When you remember more of what you have seen, either of you, come back here yourselves, or send word to us to come. You will always be welcome here.” The High Priestess smiled her motherly smile and Warda almost believed her.
They both said thank you and headed for the main door. Tiraza appeared in a black over-robe, the kind with sleeves that went all the way over her hands and a huge cloak. Some people said this was because the Daughters of Vistara were chaste and did not allow men to look upon them. The truth was certain men would love the opportunity to do harm to the priestesses of Vistara’s order, especially on the Longest Night, beating out confessions of demon summoning and the like. Disguise was better than the alternative. Warda’s own robe had no sleeves, but it did have a hood, which she put over her head in case anyone who had used the Eid as an excuse for a few drinks and a late night recognised her on her walk home. She was also hiding her anxiety at have the company of Tiraza. She had no clue how they would lose the priestess and both get where they needed to go safely. It must be hearing the second hour of morning, and this was a big city to get lost in, especially in the dark.
Halfway to the well, Warda began to feel there was something wrong. Although, not wrong, but different. Very different from the feeling of the other girls attempts. Sammi didn’t look stiff or uncomfortable, but she seemed as though she was so far out of her head a little push would send her over. Suddenly her eyes lit up as bright as the full moon, their light shone back up and illuminated her small, pale face. Her lips were moving, sounding something out too quietly for Warda to hear. She wanted to run to Sammi’s side and snap her out of it. She started to believe in demons and possessions after all and wanted to make sure that the thing she left the temple with was the same child with whom she’d walked in. Yet at the same time she somehow knew to stop her would be horribly dangerous. So Warda compromised, edging a bit at a time, quietly but quickly, until she was on the steps behind Sammi. It must have only taken a couple of minutes, but to Warda it felt like half the night. Over Sammi’s shoulder she saw a temple half buried in white sand, deep down in the night of the well. White desert lions stalked outside, but as she watched a black cat slipped between them, they didn’t mind, down into the temple. Over the door, the five moons of Vistara’s crown in a bower of ivy and roses. Warda knew she would have to go there. She was stopped from wondering why as Sammi’s eyes blinked, the vision disappeared, and the girl fell sideways. Warda caught her. She was very light, and her breathing was coming very quickly. Warda lifted her and laid her on the great stones around the well. They were cool and should help to calm her, she thought.
“What did she say?” there was no mistaking the cool, clear voice of the Grandmother of Jahayna who had taken up Warda’s previous position in the door. The others, it seemed, were either involved in getting Madam down the stairs or had given the evening up as finished and had gone to their own rooms.
Warda looked up slowly, making sure Sammi was comfortable before she answered, “nothing, yet. I mean, she was talking, but I couldn’t hear her. I ... saw something. Is that normal?”
“Frankly, no,” said the High Priestess, “but then she is the most powerful Oracle I have ever seen, and I have been within these walls nearly seventy cycles.”
Warda wasn’t sure what came next. She felt she should probably start talking about the vision first, but there was something about confessing new and disturbing experiences to someone who you only knew by title that didn’t quite sit right.
“I’m sorry, Oh, erm, Grandmother of Jahayna, Keeper of Secrets, but, um, is it very rude to ask your name?” Warda looked down at Sammi’s still unconscious form, testing her temperature, rather than look at this revered and sombre woman in case she had thoroughly offended her.
“Vis-Zhari,” she said, “a bit of a mouthful, I know, although before I had my chain or even my robe it was simply Zhari. So, what did you see, child? You must be quite close to the girl, to have seen with her powers. Then again, it has been said that the Great Oracles before the End of All Magic were able to channel images that stood out of the water and shone for the whole congregation to see. It has been a long time. A long time indeed.”
Even with her name, the High-Priestess still worried Warda a great deal. There was a hunger in those eyes that suggested a sensible answer was better than a true one, at least until Sammi was awake. She seemed to know a great deal more about this.
“Well, it was all quite hazy. There were five moons, like your ceremonial crown, and the doorways, except it wasn’t on this temple, it was somewhere in the Ghost Desert, half buried in the sand. Are there temples in the desert, Vis-Zhari, your holiness?”
“There are,” Vis-Zhari mused, “but they are long forgotten. No one would now make the effort to cross those hostile sands or face the beasts that live there just to worship. But when magic was also ours to know, as the scriptures and stories are still. Then it was much easier to perform rites where you would. Hidden rites, in the Silver Desert ... it isn’t unheard of. What else? There must have been something else? Something symbolic?”
Just then, Warda was saved any more thinking as Sammi murmured and shifted slightly. Warda looked down and got her arms around her so she wouldn’t slip off the wall. Vis-Zhari walked briskly down the stairs and straight to the steps of the Depths. She nudged Warda out of the way and looked down into Sammi’s face.
“Child? What is your name, child? What did you see?” she asked insistently. She was holding Sammi’s head and shaking just a little. Warda was worried about Sammi being dizzy, or what could happen if the High Priestess didn’t get an answer which made her happy.
“I saw ... I saw the moon inside a rose, and it was safe, and the rose wasn’t white like magic, it was pink, like a mother’s rose, and it grew in desert sand,” she said. Warda observed how her voice was distant, but not uncontrolled, and was impressed that Sammi had not given her name. Warda presumed, if Sammi had her way, she never would tell.
“Good, child,” coaxed Vis-Zhari, “you’re doing very well, we know about the moon in the rose, but you’ve seen it so much clearer than Atfa’ali, you clearly do have the gift. What else did you see, my child?”
“Lions,” replied Sammi, “lions. In the desert.”
“And a temple in the desert, yes, where ceremonies were once held. Tell me, child, did you see Vistara returning? Did Tiffel speak truely? Is this temple in the desert her chosen place? Do Garatha’s lions stand guard, does he mean to stop her while she is weak and claim all the souls and the armies of ancestors for himself?”
Warda watched as Sammi made a good show of thinking hard and trying desperately to show she knew how important this was and trying to remember.
“The temple was all covered in dust,” she said, “I think it’s dead. That temple is dead, or magic is, or something. Everything walked away from the temple.” Sammi even managed a tear from the corner of her eye.
The High Priestess’ hands tightened a little one last time, then she seemed to change her mind. “Alright, child, alright, you don’t have to remember it all now. Katabi, do you have all that down?”
“Yes, oh my mother, every word!” Warda looked round the well and saw the scribe, who she had forgotten about once Sammi’s vision started. If the High Priestess was old she was ancient. Her mouth was puckered in as it was all gums and her eyes could barely be seen. Wisps of white hair were held back with a black headscarf but her robes were purple and her face held so much joy and hope that Warda wanted to tell the rest of the story to help her, even though having seen Sammi’s play-acting she knew she’d made the right choice.
“Very well,” said Vis-Zhari, drawing herself back up to her full height and stepping away from Sammi, “There are plenty of rooms spare here, my child, you should sleep here tonight, in case you remember anything else for the morning. Your nanny can take news to your parents of where you are.”
“Oh no!” cried Sammi, pulling herself up to sit on the edge of the well, “you can’t! They don’t know! My father is well known to the Shar and I had to sneak out and if Hagar goes back alone she’ll be beaten!”
It took Warda a few moments to realise that she was Hagar, but once she had she tried to look as worried as she could about a beating. She realised her own father may beat her anyway, and soon her own act had true conviction behind it.
Vis-Zhara wasn’t pleased, but she knew it wouldn’t help her chances to hold a nobleman’s daughter captive. She stifled a sigh by making her back even straighter, and then she said, “Very well, in that case, Tiraza will walk with you to your house, to see you return safely. When you remember more of what you have seen, either of you, come back here yourselves, or send word to us to come. You will always be welcome here.” The High Priestess smiled her motherly smile and Warda almost believed her.
They both said thank you and headed for the main door. Tiraza appeared in a black over-robe, the kind with sleeves that went all the way over her hands and a huge cloak. Some people said this was because the Daughters of Vistara were chaste and did not allow men to look upon them. The truth was certain men would love the opportunity to do harm to the priestesses of Vistara’s order, especially on the Longest Night, beating out confessions of demon summoning and the like. Disguise was better than the alternative. Warda’s own robe had no sleeves, but it did have a hood, which she put over her head in case anyone who had used the Eid as an excuse for a few drinks and a late night recognised her on her walk home. She was also hiding her anxiety at have the company of Tiraza. She had no clue how they would lose the priestess and both get where they needed to go safely. It must be hearing the second hour of morning, and this was a big city to get lost in, especially in the dark.