Silent Harmony ~ Rust ~ One
Aug. 28th, 2007 06:31 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
Yamin grunted as she shifted the canvas shopping bag into a more comfortable position. She’d been carrying it all the way from the markets, but no matter how many irritated sighs or pleading looks she made, Mama never noticed. She gave a quiet ‘hmph’ and threw the bag over her other shoulder, stooping forwards like an old man to further emphasise her discomfort.
‘Almost home, girls,’ Mama said, her voice achingly cheerful.
Yamin groaned and heard the same from her sister. She glanced up from the road to see Nimay poke her tongue out at their mother.
‘Hey,’ Mama warned, and probably would have lifted a finger if her own hands weren’t full with more shopping. ‘Careful, or I’ll give you extra eggplant tonight.’
Yamin giggled at her sister’s horrified gasp, then hid her mouth from her mother with her free hand and poked her own tongue out.
Nimay’s eyes narrowed. Yamin could tell she was about to try the same, but a quick glance upwards showed she was wary of the threat of eggplant.
Yamin raised her eyebrows and smirked in silent challenge, but Nimay turned her head forwards again. She refused to be tempted, though her eyes flicked across with a smirk of warning, drawing another giggle from the other seven-year-old.
‘Here we are,’ Mama sang. ‘Recognise this road?’
Yamin’s face brightened and her back straightened as they turned into her home street. The shopping bag didn’t seem quite so heavy now that she could see her house. She turned to grin at her sister, but Nimay had already poked her tongue out. She bared her teeth in a mischievous grin and dashed off up the road.
Yamin laughed and tore after her, sandals slapping on the red cobbles as she chased her sister’s swinging black ponytail. She was out of breath and panting heavily by the time she reached the front door, and Nimay was already standing there with a triumphant grin on her face. Yamin stuck her tongue out again. Nimay had gotten the head start, after all. Of course she’d win!
Nimay shrugged and yanked the canvas door aside, dumping the shopping bag on the floor before racing up the stairs to their bedroom.
Yamin gratefully dumped her own bag beside Nimay’s, shaking her arms out as she caught her breath. Nimay would be back down soon, so there was no reason to follow her up the stairs.
Sure enough, she soon heard the thump of their clothes chest being closed, then Nimay’s sandals came slapping back down the stairs. One hand slid against the wall to keep her from stumbling on the way down; in the other she grasped her shiny new birthday present. The wooden sword was carved in the shape of an yrae, with its neck making the sword’s handle and its long tail forming the blade. Their birthday had been barely a month ago, but Yamin could hardly imagine her sister without the wooden sword now.
Nimay dashed past with a wide grin, then disappeared through their parents’ room and out the back door.
Yamin was wearing her own present. It was a bracelet, made up of bright blue stones strung together on piece of blue ribbon. She still had to get Mama to tie it for her, but she was learning to tie it around her neck like a necklace.
‘Is Papa home yet?’
Yamin shook her head as Mama dropped her bags by the door, then began rummaging through them.
‘Could you go and set the fire up, please?’ she asked as she filled her arms with onions, tomatoes, garlic, flatbread and, Yamin noted with a sly grin, eggplant. ‘Don’t forget to put the grass on the bottom so it’s easier to light.’
Yamin nodded and ran upstairs, jumped over the pile of blankets she and Nimay slept under at night and bounced out through the canvas door onto the flat roof over Mama’s and Papa’s room that served as their kitchen.
She could see Nimay by the big yucca plant below, throwing pebbles up into the air and seeing how far she could hit them with her sword, if she could hit them at all. An orange and white cat lazed on the roof of the house opposite, half-watching Nimay’s games as the tip of its tail curled and uncurled against the red mud brick.
There was still half a log of wood left under the big cooking pot from last night, but the rest was all just ash and charcoal that Yamin had to sweep out before she could begin piling up dried grass. Next came the kindling, then the smaller logs and finally the big log that had been blackened from last night’s dinner.
‘How’s it coming?’
Yamin nodded as she dusted charcoal from her hands, trying to resist the urge to wipe them on her skirt, at least while Mama was there. She pointed at the dwindling pile of smaller logs. There would barely be enough for dinner tomorrow.
‘Hmm,’ Mama agreed. ‘We’ll have to send Papa to get some more tomorrow.’ She knelt down beside the cooking pot and unloaded her armful of vegetables onto the wooden chopping board.
Yamin snatched the eggplant and skipped to the edge of the roof with it, displaying it to Nimay with a cheeky grin.
Nimay paused, then she scrunched her nose up and her shoulders slouched dramatically. She tossed another pebble in the air, making to hit it at Yamin, but instead it flew back behind her, making the cat prick its ears up as it clattered over the roof beside it. Yamin giggled. Nimay poked her tongue out again.
‘Yamin, can I have my eggplant back, please?’
Yamin giggled again, tossing her black hair over her shoulder as she skipped back and plonked herself down beside her mother.
Mama held up a sharp knife, her eyebrows raised in question. ‘Can I trust you with this?’ she asked, her voice serious.
Yamin set her brow into an equally serious frown and pursed her lips with a curt nod.
‘Be very careful,’ Mama intoned as she set the handle in Yamin’s hand. ‘Keep your fingers away from the blade, okay?’
Yamin nodded again and held the eggplant firmly against the chopping board, cutting into it carefully with the knife. She had to be careful with it, otherwise Mama would take it away, so she wouldn’t have anything to boast to Nimay about later.
Mama started cutting up the tomatoes next to her and tossed them into the pot with the eggplant. Yamin covered her eyes and ran inside while she cut up the onions, waiting for Mama to call her when it was safe to come back out. Her mother’s dark eyes and nose were red from onion tears, but she was smiling as she sprinkled spices into the pot. One was the same fiery orange of the desert sand.
There was movement from inside the house, the sound of familiar footsteps on the stone floor downstairs. ‘Riona?’ Papa called from the front door. ‘Are you and the girls home yet?’
‘We’re up here, Mehni,’ Mama called back. ‘All except Nimay.’
Yamin covered a giggle with her hand as she heard a muffled ‘Oof’ float up the stairs, presumably as Nimay jumped on her father to welcome him home. His footsteps grew heavier as they began climbing the stairs, and when he appeared at the door, Yamin could see why. Nimay’s arms were slung around his shoulders, wooden sword hanging from one hand and legs grasped around his waist.
Papa groaned as he let her slide from his back. ‘You’re getting too big for this!’ he laughed.
Yamin’s proud grin mirrored her sister’s.
‘Riona?’ Papa asked again, his voice suddenly concerned. ‘Are you okay? What’s wrong?’
Mama frowned in confusion, then sniffed and laughed when the realisation dawned. ‘Oh, no, onions,’ she explained with a dismissive wave of her hand. She almost rubbed her eyes with it, but shook it to stop herself. She’d always told Yamin that the worst thing for onion tears was to rub her eyes.
‘Could you light the fire?’ she asked, blinking helplessly. ‘Oh, and you’ll need to buy more wood tomorrow. We’re running low again.’
‘Of course.’ Papa knelt down beside the pot and set about lighting the dried grass. ‘I can’t stay too long. The tavern is going to be manic tonight.’
‘Why’s that?’ Mama sniffed.
‘Own challenge. The pub’s always particularly busy when there’s an Own challenge, but especially for this one. I don’t suppose you’ve heard?’
Nimay had dropped down beside him at the mere mention of the King’s Own, Raykin’s fifteen best warriors.
‘Heard what?’
Papa grimaced. ‘The challenger was born and bred south of the Main Road, I heard. If the markets seemed particularly empty, that’s why. I’ve been hearing nothing but the name “Rumal” all day. How can the king allow a Southerner into his Own?’
Nimay tapped her father on the arm, looking up at him with a curious expression.
‘They’re all nasty pieces of work down there, sweetie.’ Papa shook his head. ‘Thieves and beggars, the lot of them. And now one of them reckons he can make it into the Own, with a sword, no less! How was he even allowed to start training in the first place?’ He paused only to blow on the fire and get it going properly.
Mama shrugged as she lifted Yamin into her lap. ‘Don’t worry too much about it. I highly doubt some kid from the southern districts is good enough to beat any one of them. They’re better than that.’
‘I should hope so,’ Papa said darkly, resting back on his heels and frowning critically at the flames.
Mama laughed and rested her chin briefly on Yamin’s head. ‘If a Southerner’s getting this much attention, imagine the ruckus when a desert man finally tries for a place. Or how about a desert woman? Ooh, or a desert woman living south of the Main Road, that would be terrible!’
A bright grin stretched across Papa’s face. ‘Ah, but we know desert women are all tall, dark-eyed and beautiful, don’t we?’
Yamin had to duck as he bent over to give Mama a quick kiss, and she exchanged bored glances with her sister. She cocked her eyebrows as her father pulled away and ruffled her hair.
‘And you two take after her completely,’ he finished with that wide grin.
Mama laughed. ‘So are they going to grow up to be taller than you are, too?’
Papa shrugged. ‘Quite possibly. How long for dinner?’
‘Not long,’ Mama said with a shake of her head. ‘It’s only a vegetable stew, so not long at all.’
Yamin rested her head against Mama’s shoulder, content to sit there quietly and listen to the gentle rumbling of her parents’ voices. Her feet still hurt from the long day at the market, and the longer walk back home.
‘Early night tonight, girls?’ Papa asked.
Yamin shook her head indignantly. It was her feet that were tired, not her head!
‘In that case,’ Mama said, in that voice that betrayed a lopsided grin on her face, ‘could you get four bowls and spoons for dinner? And Nimay, if you can get the flatbread, then we can eat.’
Yamin jumped to her feet, as much to prove that she wasn’t tired as to get the bowls quickly and start eating. Maybe there was a bit of wanting to beat Nimay to her task, she thought with a grin.
She held the bowls steady as Mama spooned the vegetable stew into it, then passed them around to Papa and Nimay, who had returned with the flatbread. She breathed in deeply once she had her own bowl, loving the warm, spicy scent of the stew. Even just the smell made Yamin’s mouth water.
She glanced up to the roof above hers and Nimay’s room, then turned a hopeful look on her mother.
Mama looked up to the roof herself, then nodded. ‘I don’t see why not,’ she agreed, getting to her feet.
Papa climbed the ladder first, balancing his bowl in one hand then setting it on the edge of the roof so he could climb the rest of the way more easily. Yamin handed her bowl to Mama, then scrambled up the ladder as the tall desert woman passed it up to Papa.
Now that she was up here, she could see almost all of Ni-Yana. Other people were sitting on their rooves having dinner as well, and they waved back to Yamin when she waved at them. She dangled her legs over the edge of the roof as she sat down, watching the people on the road below as they walked home from work, or off to the pub for drinks.
The Ra-Lin lay off to the west, and the brightly-coloured flags and banners of the market stood out on its banks, turning golden as the sun dipped towards the horizon. All the boats had come in for the day, their masts sticking up from the docks beside the bridge. Yamin marvelled at how far they had walked with all that heavy shopping.
She turned her head over her shoulder, where she could see the green strip of palms that lined the Main Road, leading from the Ra-Lin all the way to the huge stone walls of the palace. Two tall towers reached above the palace’s outer wall. Papa said they had once been used to spot enemies coming to attack Ni-Yana, but since nobody had attacked in more than a hundred years, they weren’t used anymore.
As she always did, Yamin squinted at the roof of the palace, trying desperately to see if anyone was up there having dinner, but the roof was always empty. Yamin’s shoulders drooped slightly. Why, when they had the best view in all of Ni-Yana, would the king and prince choose to eat inside?
‘Anybody up there tonight, Yamin?’ Mama asked, in that tone that showed she didn’t expect there to be.
Yamin shook her head. Royalty was silly, she decided, then shrugged and dug her spoon into her stew. She rolled her eyes when she spotted the extra eggplant that had mysteriously made its way into her bowl, then narrowed her eyes at her sister who had sat down beside her.
Nimay had a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on her face, so much that Yamin had to giggle. She didn’t mind, anyway. She liked eggplant.
Nimay turned around to look at the palace, though she clearly had different thoughts on her mind. She was thinking about the Own challenge, Yamin could tell, but she didn’t say anything just yet.
Yamin kicked her heels idly against the side of the house as she dunked her bread in the stew to soak up the juice, doing her best not to drip any on her clothes. It was so delicious, rich and full of flavour. Hearty, Papa would call it. And it was nice and hot, welcome warmth now that the sun was setting and sucking the warmth away. Nobody in the city ate this well, Yamin was sure. Not even the royals.
Nimay glanced up at her, a discreetly curious look in her eye. If she asked Papa, she wanted to know if Yamin would support her.
Yamin nodded and grinned. Swords may well be her sister’s forte more than her own, but Own challenges were exciting. She’d been to one earlier in the year, when someone had challenged the archers, but he didn’t win.
Nimay bounced and kicked her legs up, wolfing down the rest of her dinner as quickly as possible. Yamin giggled at her twin’s enthusiasm, then sat up demurely to nibble at her sauce-soaked bread.
Once she had finished, Nimay set the bowl behind her and jumped at her father’s shoulders, a broad and hopeful grin on her face.
‘What’s this about?’ Papa laughed, gripping his bowl so he wouldn’t drop it on the road below.
Yamin giggled again as Nimay batted her eyelids sweetly, then held out one fist and swung it as though she was gripping her wooden sword.
‘She wants to go to see the Own challenge tomorrow,’ Mama translated.
‘Hmm…’ Papa’s brow creased and he chewed thoughtfully at his bottom lip. Nimay still hung from his shoulders. ‘I’m not sure about this one. Maybe for the next challenger.’
‘Oh, go on.’ Mama slapped him lightly. ‘I’ll take them with me to work tomorrow, so I’ll be with them, and it’s in the palace grounds, so it’s hardly open to the public. They’d probably be safer in there than anywhere else.’
Papa sighed. Nimay squeaked in quiet desperation.
‘Okay, but be very careful, understand?’
Nimay had clearly tuned out after Papa’s first word. She was dancing around on the rooftop, skipping and holding her hands out as though she was riding one of the Own’s beautiful horses, then she scrambled back down the ladder. Yamin could hear her footsteps thundering down the stairs as though she’d fallen, then she was back out behind the house with her wooden yrae sword, bouncing around and swinging it at nothing.
Yamin laughed out loud at Papa’s bemused expression as much as at her ecstatic sister.
‘Nimay!’ Mama called. ‘Yamin and I are going to want help with the washing up.’
Nimay paused in her sword swinging, then allowed her shoulders to slouch as she pouted up at the roof.
‘Hey, no complaints,’ Mama warned. ‘Papa just let you go to the palace tomorrow, remember?’
Nimay didn’t move for a few moments, then nodded vigorously and disappeared back inside the house.
‘And that’s my cue to leave.’ Papa set his bowl behind him and groaned as he dragged himself to his feet.
Yamin climbed up herself to give him a hug before he left. She’d be in bed asleep by the time he got back home. She and Nimay had tried staying awake until he got back once, but they’d fallen asleep with no sign of him, and only succeeded in making themselves tired the next day.
Papa knelt down to give Yamin his special kiss—left cheek, right cheek, mouth, nose, forehead. ‘Look after your sister tomorrow.’
Yamin nodded and smiled, then gave him another hug before he stood up. He gave Mama a kiss, but not the special one he had for the twins, then climbed down the ladder. Yamin watched from the roof as he walked back down the road towards his pub, then bounced off to help Mama and Nimay with the washing up.
~ ~ ~
Stuff~
o Obviously, introduction to modern Ni-Yana, the twins and their parentals, with a bit of districtism thrown in X3 HI RUMAL!
o Yes, Mehni is a pub owner now. It's more convenient and Raykinian >>
o Does it work calling him and Riona 'Papa and Mama' or would you prefer they be called by name?
o I'm going to have to change Rumal's charrie profile sheet. Actually says he joined the year before, but it was FAR too convenient to have him join when the twins were 7 >>
o The twins were freaking adorable when they were kiddies.
o Dad used to give me that kiss X3
o Eggplant is yummy.
‘Almost home, girls,’ Mama said, her voice achingly cheerful.
Yamin groaned and heard the same from her sister. She glanced up from the road to see Nimay poke her tongue out at their mother.
‘Hey,’ Mama warned, and probably would have lifted a finger if her own hands weren’t full with more shopping. ‘Careful, or I’ll give you extra eggplant tonight.’
Yamin giggled at her sister’s horrified gasp, then hid her mouth from her mother with her free hand and poked her own tongue out.
Nimay’s eyes narrowed. Yamin could tell she was about to try the same, but a quick glance upwards showed she was wary of the threat of eggplant.
Yamin raised her eyebrows and smirked in silent challenge, but Nimay turned her head forwards again. She refused to be tempted, though her eyes flicked across with a smirk of warning, drawing another giggle from the other seven-year-old.
‘Here we are,’ Mama sang. ‘Recognise this road?’
Yamin’s face brightened and her back straightened as they turned into her home street. The shopping bag didn’t seem quite so heavy now that she could see her house. She turned to grin at her sister, but Nimay had already poked her tongue out. She bared her teeth in a mischievous grin and dashed off up the road.
Yamin laughed and tore after her, sandals slapping on the red cobbles as she chased her sister’s swinging black ponytail. She was out of breath and panting heavily by the time she reached the front door, and Nimay was already standing there with a triumphant grin on her face. Yamin stuck her tongue out again. Nimay had gotten the head start, after all. Of course she’d win!
Nimay shrugged and yanked the canvas door aside, dumping the shopping bag on the floor before racing up the stairs to their bedroom.
Yamin gratefully dumped her own bag beside Nimay’s, shaking her arms out as she caught her breath. Nimay would be back down soon, so there was no reason to follow her up the stairs.
Sure enough, she soon heard the thump of their clothes chest being closed, then Nimay’s sandals came slapping back down the stairs. One hand slid against the wall to keep her from stumbling on the way down; in the other she grasped her shiny new birthday present. The wooden sword was carved in the shape of an yrae, with its neck making the sword’s handle and its long tail forming the blade. Their birthday had been barely a month ago, but Yamin could hardly imagine her sister without the wooden sword now.
Nimay dashed past with a wide grin, then disappeared through their parents’ room and out the back door.
Yamin was wearing her own present. It was a bracelet, made up of bright blue stones strung together on piece of blue ribbon. She still had to get Mama to tie it for her, but she was learning to tie it around her neck like a necklace.
‘Is Papa home yet?’
Yamin shook her head as Mama dropped her bags by the door, then began rummaging through them.
‘Could you go and set the fire up, please?’ she asked as she filled her arms with onions, tomatoes, garlic, flatbread and, Yamin noted with a sly grin, eggplant. ‘Don’t forget to put the grass on the bottom so it’s easier to light.’
Yamin nodded and ran upstairs, jumped over the pile of blankets she and Nimay slept under at night and bounced out through the canvas door onto the flat roof over Mama’s and Papa’s room that served as their kitchen.
She could see Nimay by the big yucca plant below, throwing pebbles up into the air and seeing how far she could hit them with her sword, if she could hit them at all. An orange and white cat lazed on the roof of the house opposite, half-watching Nimay’s games as the tip of its tail curled and uncurled against the red mud brick.
There was still half a log of wood left under the big cooking pot from last night, but the rest was all just ash and charcoal that Yamin had to sweep out before she could begin piling up dried grass. Next came the kindling, then the smaller logs and finally the big log that had been blackened from last night’s dinner.
‘How’s it coming?’
Yamin nodded as she dusted charcoal from her hands, trying to resist the urge to wipe them on her skirt, at least while Mama was there. She pointed at the dwindling pile of smaller logs. There would barely be enough for dinner tomorrow.
‘Hmm,’ Mama agreed. ‘We’ll have to send Papa to get some more tomorrow.’ She knelt down beside the cooking pot and unloaded her armful of vegetables onto the wooden chopping board.
Yamin snatched the eggplant and skipped to the edge of the roof with it, displaying it to Nimay with a cheeky grin.
Nimay paused, then she scrunched her nose up and her shoulders slouched dramatically. She tossed another pebble in the air, making to hit it at Yamin, but instead it flew back behind her, making the cat prick its ears up as it clattered over the roof beside it. Yamin giggled. Nimay poked her tongue out again.
‘Yamin, can I have my eggplant back, please?’
Yamin giggled again, tossing her black hair over her shoulder as she skipped back and plonked herself down beside her mother.
Mama held up a sharp knife, her eyebrows raised in question. ‘Can I trust you with this?’ she asked, her voice serious.
Yamin set her brow into an equally serious frown and pursed her lips with a curt nod.
‘Be very careful,’ Mama intoned as she set the handle in Yamin’s hand. ‘Keep your fingers away from the blade, okay?’
Yamin nodded again and held the eggplant firmly against the chopping board, cutting into it carefully with the knife. She had to be careful with it, otherwise Mama would take it away, so she wouldn’t have anything to boast to Nimay about later.
Mama started cutting up the tomatoes next to her and tossed them into the pot with the eggplant. Yamin covered her eyes and ran inside while she cut up the onions, waiting for Mama to call her when it was safe to come back out. Her mother’s dark eyes and nose were red from onion tears, but she was smiling as she sprinkled spices into the pot. One was the same fiery orange of the desert sand.
There was movement from inside the house, the sound of familiar footsteps on the stone floor downstairs. ‘Riona?’ Papa called from the front door. ‘Are you and the girls home yet?’
‘We’re up here, Mehni,’ Mama called back. ‘All except Nimay.’
Yamin covered a giggle with her hand as she heard a muffled ‘Oof’ float up the stairs, presumably as Nimay jumped on her father to welcome him home. His footsteps grew heavier as they began climbing the stairs, and when he appeared at the door, Yamin could see why. Nimay’s arms were slung around his shoulders, wooden sword hanging from one hand and legs grasped around his waist.
Papa groaned as he let her slide from his back. ‘You’re getting too big for this!’ he laughed.
Yamin’s proud grin mirrored her sister’s.
‘Riona?’ Papa asked again, his voice suddenly concerned. ‘Are you okay? What’s wrong?’
Mama frowned in confusion, then sniffed and laughed when the realisation dawned. ‘Oh, no, onions,’ she explained with a dismissive wave of her hand. She almost rubbed her eyes with it, but shook it to stop herself. She’d always told Yamin that the worst thing for onion tears was to rub her eyes.
‘Could you light the fire?’ she asked, blinking helplessly. ‘Oh, and you’ll need to buy more wood tomorrow. We’re running low again.’
‘Of course.’ Papa knelt down beside the pot and set about lighting the dried grass. ‘I can’t stay too long. The tavern is going to be manic tonight.’
‘Why’s that?’ Mama sniffed.
‘Own challenge. The pub’s always particularly busy when there’s an Own challenge, but especially for this one. I don’t suppose you’ve heard?’
Nimay had dropped down beside him at the mere mention of the King’s Own, Raykin’s fifteen best warriors.
‘Heard what?’
Papa grimaced. ‘The challenger was born and bred south of the Main Road, I heard. If the markets seemed particularly empty, that’s why. I’ve been hearing nothing but the name “Rumal” all day. How can the king allow a Southerner into his Own?’
Nimay tapped her father on the arm, looking up at him with a curious expression.
‘They’re all nasty pieces of work down there, sweetie.’ Papa shook his head. ‘Thieves and beggars, the lot of them. And now one of them reckons he can make it into the Own, with a sword, no less! How was he even allowed to start training in the first place?’ He paused only to blow on the fire and get it going properly.
Mama shrugged as she lifted Yamin into her lap. ‘Don’t worry too much about it. I highly doubt some kid from the southern districts is good enough to beat any one of them. They’re better than that.’
‘I should hope so,’ Papa said darkly, resting back on his heels and frowning critically at the flames.
Mama laughed and rested her chin briefly on Yamin’s head. ‘If a Southerner’s getting this much attention, imagine the ruckus when a desert man finally tries for a place. Or how about a desert woman? Ooh, or a desert woman living south of the Main Road, that would be terrible!’
A bright grin stretched across Papa’s face. ‘Ah, but we know desert women are all tall, dark-eyed and beautiful, don’t we?’
Yamin had to duck as he bent over to give Mama a quick kiss, and she exchanged bored glances with her sister. She cocked her eyebrows as her father pulled away and ruffled her hair.
‘And you two take after her completely,’ he finished with that wide grin.
Mama laughed. ‘So are they going to grow up to be taller than you are, too?’
Papa shrugged. ‘Quite possibly. How long for dinner?’
‘Not long,’ Mama said with a shake of her head. ‘It’s only a vegetable stew, so not long at all.’
Yamin rested her head against Mama’s shoulder, content to sit there quietly and listen to the gentle rumbling of her parents’ voices. Her feet still hurt from the long day at the market, and the longer walk back home.
‘Early night tonight, girls?’ Papa asked.
Yamin shook her head indignantly. It was her feet that were tired, not her head!
‘In that case,’ Mama said, in that voice that betrayed a lopsided grin on her face, ‘could you get four bowls and spoons for dinner? And Nimay, if you can get the flatbread, then we can eat.’
Yamin jumped to her feet, as much to prove that she wasn’t tired as to get the bowls quickly and start eating. Maybe there was a bit of wanting to beat Nimay to her task, she thought with a grin.
She held the bowls steady as Mama spooned the vegetable stew into it, then passed them around to Papa and Nimay, who had returned with the flatbread. She breathed in deeply once she had her own bowl, loving the warm, spicy scent of the stew. Even just the smell made Yamin’s mouth water.
She glanced up to the roof above hers and Nimay’s room, then turned a hopeful look on her mother.
Mama looked up to the roof herself, then nodded. ‘I don’t see why not,’ she agreed, getting to her feet.
Papa climbed the ladder first, balancing his bowl in one hand then setting it on the edge of the roof so he could climb the rest of the way more easily. Yamin handed her bowl to Mama, then scrambled up the ladder as the tall desert woman passed it up to Papa.
Now that she was up here, she could see almost all of Ni-Yana. Other people were sitting on their rooves having dinner as well, and they waved back to Yamin when she waved at them. She dangled her legs over the edge of the roof as she sat down, watching the people on the road below as they walked home from work, or off to the pub for drinks.
The Ra-Lin lay off to the west, and the brightly-coloured flags and banners of the market stood out on its banks, turning golden as the sun dipped towards the horizon. All the boats had come in for the day, their masts sticking up from the docks beside the bridge. Yamin marvelled at how far they had walked with all that heavy shopping.
She turned her head over her shoulder, where she could see the green strip of palms that lined the Main Road, leading from the Ra-Lin all the way to the huge stone walls of the palace. Two tall towers reached above the palace’s outer wall. Papa said they had once been used to spot enemies coming to attack Ni-Yana, but since nobody had attacked in more than a hundred years, they weren’t used anymore.
As she always did, Yamin squinted at the roof of the palace, trying desperately to see if anyone was up there having dinner, but the roof was always empty. Yamin’s shoulders drooped slightly. Why, when they had the best view in all of Ni-Yana, would the king and prince choose to eat inside?
‘Anybody up there tonight, Yamin?’ Mama asked, in that tone that showed she didn’t expect there to be.
Yamin shook her head. Royalty was silly, she decided, then shrugged and dug her spoon into her stew. She rolled her eyes when she spotted the extra eggplant that had mysteriously made its way into her bowl, then narrowed her eyes at her sister who had sat down beside her.
Nimay had a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on her face, so much that Yamin had to giggle. She didn’t mind, anyway. She liked eggplant.
Nimay turned around to look at the palace, though she clearly had different thoughts on her mind. She was thinking about the Own challenge, Yamin could tell, but she didn’t say anything just yet.
Yamin kicked her heels idly against the side of the house as she dunked her bread in the stew to soak up the juice, doing her best not to drip any on her clothes. It was so delicious, rich and full of flavour. Hearty, Papa would call it. And it was nice and hot, welcome warmth now that the sun was setting and sucking the warmth away. Nobody in the city ate this well, Yamin was sure. Not even the royals.
Nimay glanced up at her, a discreetly curious look in her eye. If she asked Papa, she wanted to know if Yamin would support her.
Yamin nodded and grinned. Swords may well be her sister’s forte more than her own, but Own challenges were exciting. She’d been to one earlier in the year, when someone had challenged the archers, but he didn’t win.
Nimay bounced and kicked her legs up, wolfing down the rest of her dinner as quickly as possible. Yamin giggled at her twin’s enthusiasm, then sat up demurely to nibble at her sauce-soaked bread.
Once she had finished, Nimay set the bowl behind her and jumped at her father’s shoulders, a broad and hopeful grin on her face.
‘What’s this about?’ Papa laughed, gripping his bowl so he wouldn’t drop it on the road below.
Yamin giggled again as Nimay batted her eyelids sweetly, then held out one fist and swung it as though she was gripping her wooden sword.
‘She wants to go to see the Own challenge tomorrow,’ Mama translated.
‘Hmm…’ Papa’s brow creased and he chewed thoughtfully at his bottom lip. Nimay still hung from his shoulders. ‘I’m not sure about this one. Maybe for the next challenger.’
‘Oh, go on.’ Mama slapped him lightly. ‘I’ll take them with me to work tomorrow, so I’ll be with them, and it’s in the palace grounds, so it’s hardly open to the public. They’d probably be safer in there than anywhere else.’
Papa sighed. Nimay squeaked in quiet desperation.
‘Okay, but be very careful, understand?’
Nimay had clearly tuned out after Papa’s first word. She was dancing around on the rooftop, skipping and holding her hands out as though she was riding one of the Own’s beautiful horses, then she scrambled back down the ladder. Yamin could hear her footsteps thundering down the stairs as though she’d fallen, then she was back out behind the house with her wooden yrae sword, bouncing around and swinging it at nothing.
Yamin laughed out loud at Papa’s bemused expression as much as at her ecstatic sister.
‘Nimay!’ Mama called. ‘Yamin and I are going to want help with the washing up.’
Nimay paused in her sword swinging, then allowed her shoulders to slouch as she pouted up at the roof.
‘Hey, no complaints,’ Mama warned. ‘Papa just let you go to the palace tomorrow, remember?’
Nimay didn’t move for a few moments, then nodded vigorously and disappeared back inside the house.
‘And that’s my cue to leave.’ Papa set his bowl behind him and groaned as he dragged himself to his feet.
Yamin climbed up herself to give him a hug before he left. She’d be in bed asleep by the time he got back home. She and Nimay had tried staying awake until he got back once, but they’d fallen asleep with no sign of him, and only succeeded in making themselves tired the next day.
Papa knelt down to give Yamin his special kiss—left cheek, right cheek, mouth, nose, forehead. ‘Look after your sister tomorrow.’
Yamin nodded and smiled, then gave him another hug before he stood up. He gave Mama a kiss, but not the special one he had for the twins, then climbed down the ladder. Yamin watched from the roof as he walked back down the road towards his pub, then bounced off to help Mama and Nimay with the washing up.
Stuff~
o Obviously, introduction to modern Ni-Yana, the twins and their parentals, with a bit of districtism thrown in X3 HI RUMAL!
o Yes, Mehni is a pub owner now. It's more convenient and Raykinian >>
o Does it work calling him and Riona 'Papa and Mama' or would you prefer they be called by name?
o I'm going to have to change Rumal's charrie profile sheet. Actually says he joined the year before, but it was FAR too convenient to have him join when the twins were 7 >>
o The twins were freaking adorable when they were kiddies.
o Dad used to give me that kiss X3
o Eggplant is yummy.