Silent Harmony ~ Rust ~ Two
Sep. 5th, 2007 11:48 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
There was only a faint glow of pre-dawn sunlight when Yamin was shaken awake the next morning, but the prospect of the day’s excitement meant she couldn’t be annoyed at her sister. She dressed quickly and ran downstairs.
Mama was pulling her arms through the sleeves of a lightweight coat, the same dusty red as her palace uniform underneath.
She pressed one finger to her lips in warning, then jerked a thumb towards hers and Papa’s bedroom. Yamin could hear the telltale heavy breathing that told her Papa was still asleep, so she nodded, then pulled her top lip down as though buttoning it to the bottom.
Mama held her finger up again, but the lopsided grin on her face meant the warning never carried much weight. She bopped Yamin lightly on the head with her purse, then beckoned her and Nimay to the door.
Nimay was all too happy to bolt past the canvas screen, wooden sword gripped proudly in her right hand.
People were already milling around in the street on their way to work, greeting those they passed with a wave and a ‘good morning.’
Nimay hovered around outside the bakery as Yamin and her mother approached. Yamin closed her eyes and breathed in the warm, musty smell of freshly baked bread.
‘Three slices of fruit bread, please,’ Yamin heard her mother say, then the jingle of coins as she paid the baker.
She grinned and bowed her head as she accepted the steaming slice, then bit gratefully into it, savouring the spongy texture and warm spices baked into it. Nimay was picking the sultanas out of her slice and eating them on their own.
Yamin hung by her mother’s side as they wandered through the maze of mud brick houses, their red walls brightening as the sun crept up above the horizon. The delicious smell of the bakeries hung over everything, making Yamin want another slice of bread, even one without fruit in it.
Finally the maze ended and they stepped onto the palm-lined Main Road, which was crawling with people, mostly in wagons being towed by camels. At the other end of the road, the high stone walls that surrounded the palace loomed over everything, bright red-gold in the early dawn sunlight.
Yamin glanced past the wagons to the houses on the other side of the road and was reminded of what Papa was saying last night about Southerners. She quickly moved to Mama’s other side and reached one hand up to wind her fingers with her mother’s.
The palace already towered over Ni-Yana, but it somehow managed to keep on growing as they drew closer and closer. It dwarfed the little mud brick buildings huddled in its shadow. They were close enough now that even the very tops of the palace’s two great towers were hidden behind the outer wall, and Yamin had to tip her head right back to see the top of it. Men stood on top of the outer wall, each with a bow slung over his shoulder. They waved back when Mama waved up at them, but the huge wooden doors remained shut.
‘We have to go in around the back,’ Mama explained. ‘Only the important people go through the front gates, like royalty or the King’s Own.’
Nimay squealed quietly at the mention of her heroes, then began dancing around in excited circles. Yamin giggled, but didn’t let go of Mama’s hand.
The guards at the palace’s back door smiled down at Yamin and her sister as they approached, but the swords sheathed prominently at their hips made Yamin nervous.
‘You’re in for a bit of a spectacle today, girls,’ one of the guards said as the other turned to unlock the door. His grin reminded Yamin of Papa’s. Maybe they weren’t so bad.
‘I should think so,’ Mama said with a laugh. ‘Do you think he’ll get in?’
The guard shrugged and scratched his chin. ‘I couldn’t say. He’s incredibly quick, I’ll give him that much, but Own material?’ He sighed and shook his head. ‘Lin’s blood, I hope not.’
‘Oi,’ Mama warned, holding up a finger. ‘No swearing around the girls, thank you.’
The guard shrugged and gave his Papa-grin. ‘They’ll hear much worse than that today, believe me.’
‘Even so,’ Mama said primly.
The heavy wooden door swung open so they could go inside. The guard with Papa’s grin ruffled Yamin’s hair to see her off. ‘Have a fun day, ladies!’
‘Thank you, sirs!’ Mama called back.
Yamin gasped as she laid eyes on the palace. She’d only ever been able to see it from her house before. From inside the outer wall, it was incredible. Not only was it a hundred times bigger than her three-roomed mud brick home, but it looked like it was almost floating in the air. The central part was rooted firmly to the ground, but the four great wings that stretched from each corner were held up by great stone pillars. People wearing the same dusty red uniform as Mama were walking around underneath the huge building, not seeming to worry that it might fall on top of them at any moment.
The palace even had a garden, with a pool of water and palms hanging over it, their leaves flapping noisily in the breeze. The little patch of green stood out brightly against the red of the palace and its surrounding walls.
More buildings were scattered around closer to the outer walls, but Yamin couldn’t tell what any of them were, except for one. The big white dome in the opposite corner, with two big, leafy green plants by its door, was the healing house. She hoped she could go in there some time today. Its whitewashed walls seemed so bright and fresh compared to the hot red of the rest of Ni-Yana.
She could hear clashing steel coming from one building off to her right, and assumed that must be where the army men trained with their swords. Sure enough, Nimay was watching that building with great intent.
Yamin yelped as she realised Mama had led her underneath the floating palace, and she fixed her eyes nervously on the huge weight above her as though it was only her gaze keeping it aloft.
Mama laughed and patted her head. ‘Don’t worry, Yamin. The palace has stood for thousands of years. It won’t fall on you now.’
Yamin wasn’t so sure.
The heavy oak doors of the palace itself were wide open, admitting them to the wide atrium of the front hall. Yamin craned her neck to look up at the ceiling, thinking about how many of her own houses would fit in just this one room. Members of the palace staff were everywhere, carrying things up and down the big staircase that led to the rest of the palace.
‘Okay, girls,’ Mama said authoritatively, resting one hand on each of their shoulders to hold their attention. ‘If you get hungry, the kitchens are in through that door.’ She pointed to the door to Yamin’s right. ‘I’ll be in the laundry, through this door here.’ She pointed to the left. ‘Don’t go upstairs, that’s where the royal family lives, and you wouldn’t like strangers running around our house, would you?’
Yamin shook her head, and Nimay did the same beside her. Mama needn’t have worried; Yamin had no interest in going upstairs, and Nimay clearly wished to spend her day with the clang of swords in her ears.
‘The Own challenge will start in an hour or two, out in the courtyard here, so you can amuse yourselves until then.’ Mama smiled and gave them each a kiss on the forehead, then straightened and disappeared into the laundry.
Nimay instantly grabbed her sister’s hand and darted out the door with Yamin laughing in tow. The pair of them ran to the building Yamin had heard the clash of swords coming from earlier. Though it was tiny next to the palace, it was still ten times bigger than any building in Yamin’s home district, and when they peeked through the open doorway, it seemed even bigger. There were no walls inside the building to divide it up into smaller rooms, so Yamin could see all the way to the other end.
The room was filled with men in army uniforms, and the angry clanging of steel against steel. Down the opposite end, men in purple shirts fought each other with daggers, while others with orange shirts tried to hit each other with long wooden poles.
Of course, Nimay was more interested in this end of the room, and the red-shirted swordsmen.
Yamin watched them flip and twist and clash their swords against each other, wondering which two she and Nimay would be watching later on in the day. They all looked the same with their red shirts and heavy brown boots, and it was so hard to see anything when they were all moving this quickly. She hoped when it was just the two of them out in the courtyard it would be easier to see what was going on.
She tapped Nimay on the shoulder and pointed towards the white dome of the healing house.
Nimay nodded, barely glancing away from the training swordsmen. Yamin giggled and covered her twin’s eyes with her hands, then dashed off to the healing house before Nimay could strike back.
Even the leafy green plants on either side of the door marked it as a more peaceful building than the sword-training room. A single stem grew from the large, dark leaves, with a cluster of tiny blue flowers at the top. It was just the right height for Yamin to sniff at them, but there was no perfume, not from the plant, at least.
What she could smell instead were the fresh, tangy scents from inside the healing house. They grew stronger as she stepped inside, but not overpowering, just fresh, the kind of fresh that made Yamin take another deep breath.
The inside of the healing house was whitewashed like the outside, and with the bright morning sunlight filtering through the slitted windows up above, it seemed so light and airy. A shelf ran around the wall of the white dome, with small potted plants all along it. Yamin inhaled again, feeling any little niggles in her feet and knees from the walk here flow away, just from the comforting smell of all those plants.
Big stone blocks, all draped with white cloth, were arranged through the room. Men and women, mostly in dusty red palace staff uniforms, sat on the blocks while the green-robed healers took care of them.
‘Now, what can I help you with?’
Yamin jumped at the voice, snapping around to see the healer’s round, smiling face.
‘My name’s Nanuka,’ the green-robed healer told her. ‘What’s your name?’
Yamin blinked several times and stared blankly back at the healer. Normally Mama or Papa was around to answer that question. Her throat squeaked faintly, but closed over before she could think how to give the woman her name.
‘It’s okay,’ Nanuka soothed, resting a hand on Yamin’s shoulder. ‘Don’t be shy. Just show me where it hurts.’
Yamin blinked again in confusion. Hurts? She shook her head. She didn’t hurt anywhere. She just wanted to see the healing house inside.
‘Do you know where your parents are?’ the healer tried again. ‘Where’s Mama?’
Yamin smiled. This was a question she could answer. She pointed back at the palace, at the spot where she knew the laundry was.
‘So you’re not lost?’ Nanuka clarified.
Yamin shook her head with a grin.
‘And you’re not hurt…’ The healer sounded almost as though she was talking to herself now, but Yamin shook her head again anyway.
Finally Nanuka smirked and cast her eyes out into the courtyard. ‘Ah, I know,’ she decided with a slow nod. ‘Mama brought you here for the Own challenge, am I right?’
Yamin nodded vigorously, drawing a laugh from the healer.
‘What have we here?’ The new voice was stern and scratched with age. Its owner wore a blue robe in place of the soft green that all the other healers wore.
Yamin shrunk back, desperate for Mama’s hand to cling to, but it wasn’t there. Nanuka’s would have to do, but it was so small compared to Mama’s, and when the healer stood up, she didn’t need to hold her own hand up as high as she did for Mama. It wasn’t an altogether very comforting hand to grip onto, but at least it gripped back.
‘Just a visitor, Madame,’ Nanuka said lightly. ‘She’s here for the Own challenge and just got bored of waiting in the laundry with Mama, I suppose. Is that right?’ She turned her face down to Yamin with an encouraging smile, but Yamin could only give a slight nod in response.
‘Very well,’ the healer in blue decided. ‘She’s under your charge, Nanuka, until the Own challenge. Just don’t let her disturb the patients.’
Yamin shook her head as she chewed on her bottom lip.
‘Of course not,’ Nanuka answered. ‘Thank you, Madame.’ She dropped down to Yamin’s level as the woman in blue turned to leave. ‘Don’t be scared of her, Sweetling. Madame Auin is the head healer. She’s a lovely lady.’ She grinned and held a hand up to hide her mouth, then said in a harsh whisper, ‘She just doesn’t think much of the Own.’
Yamin watched with wide eyes as Madame Auin walked off, making note to avoid the old lady for the rest of the day.
‘Come on,’ Nanuka said brightly, bouncing to her feet and taking Yamin’s hand again. ‘You can come and help me mix some burn cream if you’d like.’
Yamin nodded again, looking around the healing house with renewed fascination now that the scary old woman had gone. A door at the back led outside to where Yamin could see a small pool of water, shaded by a few palms and the palace’s outer wall. More plants grew around the pool, though only a few had flowers on them. She wondered if maybe the healers used those plants in the healing house.
There were more doors on either side of the big white room, closed off by green curtains. One curtain was open, but the room beyond it was too dark for Yamin to be able to see anything inside it.
‘Don’t go into any of the side rooms,’ Nanuka warned her. ‘There are very, very sick people in those rooms, and they need as much rest as they can get so they can get better.’
Yamin nodded and quietly begged for Lin to make those people healthy again, then followed Nanuka out of the back door into the small garden.
‘This is aloe vera,’ the healer explained, kneeling down beside a plant with thick leaves. Sharp spikes ran up each edge of the leaves, and Nanuka carefully avoided them as she sliced one leaf off. ‘We mix its sap with beeswax to make burn cream.’
She swung herself back to her feet and ran her knife down each side of the leaf to cut off its thorns, then handed it to Yamin. Already the creamy white sap was leaking out of the cuts, and Yamin had to hold it away from herself to stop it from dripping on her skirt.
Nanuka held out her hand for Yamin to take, then led her back into the healing house. She hooked her hands under Yamin’s arms and hoisted her up with a grunt of effort, then set her down on the stone bench.
‘Now if I can just find a bowl…’ She ducked down and opened one of the cupboards under Yamin’s legs. ‘Aha, here we go. Now if you can squeeze all the sap from that leaf into this bowl, I’ll go and get the beeswax.’
Yamin nodded and held the leaf by the thick end, watching as the already waxy white liquid dribbled off the tip and pooled in the shiny clay bowl, like rain on the leaves of the yucca at the back of her house. She gripped the leaf with her other hand and squeezed. Sap oozed over her fingers, stark white against her dark olive skin and the darker red-brown of the bowl.
She grinned and giggled, drawing pictures in the bottom of the bowl with the aloe vera sap.
‘You look like you’re having fun.’ Nanuka had returned with something wrapped in cloth.
Yamin nodded and giggled again as she squeezed more sap out of the leaf. It was a soppy green-and-white mess by the time she’d finished with it, but making a mess was fun.
Nanuka unwrapped her lump of soft, squishy beeswax and scooped some of it with her fingers into the bowl, then began mixing it all together. Yamin delved her fingers into the mixture too, squeezing it until it became a smooth, warm cream.
‘Perfect,’ Nanuka said with a grin, wiping the excess salve off her fingers with a cloth.
Yamin grinned proudly and kicked her legs against the cupboards.
‘No doubt that will see some use by the end of the day,’ the healer sighed with a shake of her head, then shrugged. ‘Now, let’s see what else we have for you to help out with.’
Yamin spent the morning helping in the healing house in any way she could, rolling bandages, fetching water from the small pool of water at the back and learning what some of the plants at its edge were used for. She could have easily spent the whole day in there, and became so engrossed in the workings of the white dome that she almost forgot the main reason she was at the palace.
That was, until Nimay appeared at the door.
Yamin snapped her head up from the spiky plant Nanuka was telling her about, then jumped to her feet and ran back into the healing house to where her sister was waiting impatiently by the door.
She quickly turned back to Nanuka, who had followed close behind at Yamin’s abrupt disappearance, and gave her the traditional sign for thanks, pressing her palms together under her chest, fingers touching opposite wrists.
‘Weren’t you keeping an eye on her?’ Yamin cringed at the stern voice of Madame Auin, but she wasn’t nearly as scary with Nimay there.
‘I have been,’ Nanuka replied, ruffling Yamin’s hair. ‘She’s been an absolute delight all—oh goodness, there are two of them.’
Yamin gave a cheeky giggle that she could hear mirrored on the other side of the room, then began darting and weaving between the bed blocks to greet her sister.
Nimay beckoned her urgently, and Yamin could see people already gathering in the courtyard outside.
She dipped her head briefly to Nanuka and the head healer, then dashed out of the healing house towards the growing crowd of people. In the crowd, she could recognise the dusty orange uniform the palace staff wore, and she wondered if Mama was among them yet. There were lots of army men watching, too, grouped off in bunches of red, orange, purple and blue shirts, and groups of people in expensive looking uniforms that Yamin didn’t recognise.
Nimay gripped her hand and began threading her way through the crowd, finally bursting out into the front where they could both sit down on the warm cobbles and have the best view. Everyone had formed in a big circle, at the centre of which stood four men. Two wore the red shirts of the army’s swordsmen, one was all in black with twinkling silver trim around his neck, and the forth, much larger than the other three, wore the richest and most beautiful clothes Yamin had ever seen.
She gasped and pointed at the group of four with a jittering hand. That was the king, surely!
Nimay nodded enthusiastically, though it was neither the king nor the man in black and silver who she was interested in, only the two swordsmen in red shirts.
The crowd continued to grow, until Yamin was certain everyone in the palace was gathered around by now, but she still couldn’t spot Mama.
Nimay tugged on her sleeve and pointed straight up.
Yamin shaded her eyes from the sun and squinted at where Nimay was pointing. On the balcony, two floors and a thousand feet above the ground, Yamin could see a boy with his arms crossed on the railing, intently watching the crowd grow. He must be the prince, Yamin decided. She waved up at him, then giggled and hid her face in Nimay’s shoulder when he waved back.
Finally, the black man gave one of the swordsmen a slap on the shoulder, then jogged to the edge of the circle where another small group of red shirts was gathered, arms folded. They all looked very casual as they chatted, especially compared to the crowd behind them. People were already shaking their fists, cheering and yelling at the two swordsmen.
On a quick signal from the king, the men in red shirts drew their swords, unclipped their sheathes from their hips and handed them to the king. Yamin could hear her twin gasp in awe beside her, and she instantly knew which of the two was Rumal, the challenger. His sword was so plain as he twisted it in his grip.
The other man, already riding with the King’s Own, had an ornately decorated handle, and from this distance it looked something like a bat or a dragon. He swung it a few times in the air, and the crowd cheered expectantly.
The king held up both hands as the two men separated, rolling their shoulders and jiggling their arms as they glared at each other.
‘On my left,’ the king shouted as he waited for the crowd to quieten down a bit. ‘On my left, I am proud to present to you, your current rider for the King’s Own, Laeron!’
Cheers and waving arms erupted from the palace staff, so loud that Yamin almost felt like cheering with them, though she had no idea who Laeron was.
Laeron lifted his arms and waved the fingers of his free hand, urging them to cheer louder. When he was satisfied, he gave a flourished bow and spun his sword in another circle. Yamin grinned and hugged her knees in excitement.
‘On my right!’ the king shouted again, louder this time to combat the even noisier crowd. ‘On my right, I present to you the challenger, Rumal!’
Yamin shrank down at the hisses that came from the palace staff this time. Apparently they were as enamoured with the Southerner as Papa was, but Yamin couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.
Rumal held his hands out helplessly, and Yamin could hear Laeron yell something at him, though she couldn’t hear his words over the hissing. She wasn’t sure she wanted to, either.
The challenger made a rude gesture to the crowd and to the Own rider he was challenging, drawing more noise from the courtyard.
The king was carefully watching both of them and took a few steps back, hands clasped behind his back. ‘First blood-draw from the torso!’ he roared, and the challenge began.
Or at least, Yamin assumed it had begun, but nothing was happening. The two swordsmen were just walking around in circles yelling at each other and spinning their swords in their grip.
She released a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding and held a hand over her chest to still her fluttering heart. Why weren’t they doing anything?
Nimay slapped her on the arm and gave her a slightly scornful look. They were preparing, watching each other for weaknesses, waiting for the other to make a mistake.
Yamin nodded slowly, but she still couldn’t see how they could see any of that from just yelling at each other.
The Own rider Laeron suddenly snapped forwards and rushed at his challenger, and the two met in a dazzling flash of blades. Their swords whipped around faster than Yamin’s eyes could follow them so they were little more than a blur of red and silver.
The people around her seemed to know more about what was going on, letting out noises of sympathy when something went against Laeron, cheering when he got it right and yelling encouragement out to him.
‘I can’t watch this,’ one man said behind Yamin.
‘Then don’t,’ his companion countered.
‘Lin’s blood, that guy is fast. Did you see that? How do they do that?’ There was a slight pause. ‘He’s going to lose it.’
‘Don’t be such a pessimist. He’s still faster than the other guy.’
‘I still don’t like it. Come on, Laeron. Don’t go down to an Aeia-damned Southerner.’
The swordsmen continued to spin and dance in the middle of the circle, their swords flashing in the sunlight and clanging loud over the noises of the palace staff. Not once did either of them let up or back away to catch his breath. They just kept swinging their steel at each other, teeth gritted and brows set.
After what seemed an age, Laeron stumbled backwards. A dark patch stained his chest, and Yamin could see a tear in his shirt. It was over. Rumal had won.
The crowd was stunned into a split second of silence, then began hissing and yelling their disbelief. Rumal was now a part of the King’s Own.
Yamin shrunk down away from the noises of the crowd. Even the group of Own riders on the edge of the circle were shouting and waving their arms in anger.
An even louder roar came from the middle of the circle, where the realisation had apparently dawned on the former Own rider. Laeron gripped his sword and lunged again at Rumal, who was bent over his sword and breathing heavily.
Yamin squealed and buried her face into her knees, hearing the steel clashing again in front of her and the crowd roaring behind her.
Nimay’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, then the other curled around her knees as she rested her head against Yamin’s. Already Yamin could feel her heart slow, and she cautiously lifted her eyes again, keeping most of her face hidden behind her knees.
Just as she looked up, Laeron’s sword flew high into the air with a loud cry from the crowd. Rumal ran backwards to catch it in his free hand, then swung both blades threateningly at the former Own rider. He strode forwards and whipped the blades up, crossing them at Laeron’s neck.
Yamin cried out again and squeezed her eyes shut. Even Nimay couldn’t watch now. Yamin could feel her face pressed against her arm. Her comforting hug tightened, probably as much to soothe herself as Yamin.
She did her best to block out the sounds around her, but she could still hear the abuse the crowd still yelled at Rumal. It seemed like an eternity that they crouched there at the edge of the circle, too scared to move.
Finally, a big, warm hand rested on Yamin’s dark hair. Still with her eyes squeezed shut, Yamin gripped Mama’s shoulders with both arms, not daring to let go until they were well out of the palace grounds.
She didn’t like Southerners, Yamin decided, but from what she’d seen of Laeron, the King’s Own wasn’t much better.
~ ~ ~
Stuff~
o Rumal was freaking scary back then. Not much better now, but still. I want to rewrite that not from the perspective of a seven-year-old, cos I do so love Rumal XD
o Laeron was also freaking scary, and he still is <3
o I love hands. Spot the hand references as the fic goes on XD
o Nanuka is a luff <3
o I wrote the last three pages-worth at uni just now =D Just in time for English to start, wai *dashes*
Mama was pulling her arms through the sleeves of a lightweight coat, the same dusty red as her palace uniform underneath.
She pressed one finger to her lips in warning, then jerked a thumb towards hers and Papa’s bedroom. Yamin could hear the telltale heavy breathing that told her Papa was still asleep, so she nodded, then pulled her top lip down as though buttoning it to the bottom.
Mama held her finger up again, but the lopsided grin on her face meant the warning never carried much weight. She bopped Yamin lightly on the head with her purse, then beckoned her and Nimay to the door.
Nimay was all too happy to bolt past the canvas screen, wooden sword gripped proudly in her right hand.
People were already milling around in the street on their way to work, greeting those they passed with a wave and a ‘good morning.’
Nimay hovered around outside the bakery as Yamin and her mother approached. Yamin closed her eyes and breathed in the warm, musty smell of freshly baked bread.
‘Three slices of fruit bread, please,’ Yamin heard her mother say, then the jingle of coins as she paid the baker.
She grinned and bowed her head as she accepted the steaming slice, then bit gratefully into it, savouring the spongy texture and warm spices baked into it. Nimay was picking the sultanas out of her slice and eating them on their own.
Yamin hung by her mother’s side as they wandered through the maze of mud brick houses, their red walls brightening as the sun crept up above the horizon. The delicious smell of the bakeries hung over everything, making Yamin want another slice of bread, even one without fruit in it.
Finally the maze ended and they stepped onto the palm-lined Main Road, which was crawling with people, mostly in wagons being towed by camels. At the other end of the road, the high stone walls that surrounded the palace loomed over everything, bright red-gold in the early dawn sunlight.
Yamin glanced past the wagons to the houses on the other side of the road and was reminded of what Papa was saying last night about Southerners. She quickly moved to Mama’s other side and reached one hand up to wind her fingers with her mother’s.
The palace already towered over Ni-Yana, but it somehow managed to keep on growing as they drew closer and closer. It dwarfed the little mud brick buildings huddled in its shadow. They were close enough now that even the very tops of the palace’s two great towers were hidden behind the outer wall, and Yamin had to tip her head right back to see the top of it. Men stood on top of the outer wall, each with a bow slung over his shoulder. They waved back when Mama waved up at them, but the huge wooden doors remained shut.
‘We have to go in around the back,’ Mama explained. ‘Only the important people go through the front gates, like royalty or the King’s Own.’
Nimay squealed quietly at the mention of her heroes, then began dancing around in excited circles. Yamin giggled, but didn’t let go of Mama’s hand.
The guards at the palace’s back door smiled down at Yamin and her sister as they approached, but the swords sheathed prominently at their hips made Yamin nervous.
‘You’re in for a bit of a spectacle today, girls,’ one of the guards said as the other turned to unlock the door. His grin reminded Yamin of Papa’s. Maybe they weren’t so bad.
‘I should think so,’ Mama said with a laugh. ‘Do you think he’ll get in?’
The guard shrugged and scratched his chin. ‘I couldn’t say. He’s incredibly quick, I’ll give him that much, but Own material?’ He sighed and shook his head. ‘Lin’s blood, I hope not.’
‘Oi,’ Mama warned, holding up a finger. ‘No swearing around the girls, thank you.’
The guard shrugged and gave his Papa-grin. ‘They’ll hear much worse than that today, believe me.’
‘Even so,’ Mama said primly.
The heavy wooden door swung open so they could go inside. The guard with Papa’s grin ruffled Yamin’s hair to see her off. ‘Have a fun day, ladies!’
‘Thank you, sirs!’ Mama called back.
Yamin gasped as she laid eyes on the palace. She’d only ever been able to see it from her house before. From inside the outer wall, it was incredible. Not only was it a hundred times bigger than her three-roomed mud brick home, but it looked like it was almost floating in the air. The central part was rooted firmly to the ground, but the four great wings that stretched from each corner were held up by great stone pillars. People wearing the same dusty red uniform as Mama were walking around underneath the huge building, not seeming to worry that it might fall on top of them at any moment.
The palace even had a garden, with a pool of water and palms hanging over it, their leaves flapping noisily in the breeze. The little patch of green stood out brightly against the red of the palace and its surrounding walls.
More buildings were scattered around closer to the outer walls, but Yamin couldn’t tell what any of them were, except for one. The big white dome in the opposite corner, with two big, leafy green plants by its door, was the healing house. She hoped she could go in there some time today. Its whitewashed walls seemed so bright and fresh compared to the hot red of the rest of Ni-Yana.
She could hear clashing steel coming from one building off to her right, and assumed that must be where the army men trained with their swords. Sure enough, Nimay was watching that building with great intent.
Yamin yelped as she realised Mama had led her underneath the floating palace, and she fixed her eyes nervously on the huge weight above her as though it was only her gaze keeping it aloft.
Mama laughed and patted her head. ‘Don’t worry, Yamin. The palace has stood for thousands of years. It won’t fall on you now.’
Yamin wasn’t so sure.
The heavy oak doors of the palace itself were wide open, admitting them to the wide atrium of the front hall. Yamin craned her neck to look up at the ceiling, thinking about how many of her own houses would fit in just this one room. Members of the palace staff were everywhere, carrying things up and down the big staircase that led to the rest of the palace.
‘Okay, girls,’ Mama said authoritatively, resting one hand on each of their shoulders to hold their attention. ‘If you get hungry, the kitchens are in through that door.’ She pointed to the door to Yamin’s right. ‘I’ll be in the laundry, through this door here.’ She pointed to the left. ‘Don’t go upstairs, that’s where the royal family lives, and you wouldn’t like strangers running around our house, would you?’
Yamin shook her head, and Nimay did the same beside her. Mama needn’t have worried; Yamin had no interest in going upstairs, and Nimay clearly wished to spend her day with the clang of swords in her ears.
‘The Own challenge will start in an hour or two, out in the courtyard here, so you can amuse yourselves until then.’ Mama smiled and gave them each a kiss on the forehead, then straightened and disappeared into the laundry.
Nimay instantly grabbed her sister’s hand and darted out the door with Yamin laughing in tow. The pair of them ran to the building Yamin had heard the clash of swords coming from earlier. Though it was tiny next to the palace, it was still ten times bigger than any building in Yamin’s home district, and when they peeked through the open doorway, it seemed even bigger. There were no walls inside the building to divide it up into smaller rooms, so Yamin could see all the way to the other end.
The room was filled with men in army uniforms, and the angry clanging of steel against steel. Down the opposite end, men in purple shirts fought each other with daggers, while others with orange shirts tried to hit each other with long wooden poles.
Of course, Nimay was more interested in this end of the room, and the red-shirted swordsmen.
Yamin watched them flip and twist and clash their swords against each other, wondering which two she and Nimay would be watching later on in the day. They all looked the same with their red shirts and heavy brown boots, and it was so hard to see anything when they were all moving this quickly. She hoped when it was just the two of them out in the courtyard it would be easier to see what was going on.
She tapped Nimay on the shoulder and pointed towards the white dome of the healing house.
Nimay nodded, barely glancing away from the training swordsmen. Yamin giggled and covered her twin’s eyes with her hands, then dashed off to the healing house before Nimay could strike back.
Even the leafy green plants on either side of the door marked it as a more peaceful building than the sword-training room. A single stem grew from the large, dark leaves, with a cluster of tiny blue flowers at the top. It was just the right height for Yamin to sniff at them, but there was no perfume, not from the plant, at least.
What she could smell instead were the fresh, tangy scents from inside the healing house. They grew stronger as she stepped inside, but not overpowering, just fresh, the kind of fresh that made Yamin take another deep breath.
The inside of the healing house was whitewashed like the outside, and with the bright morning sunlight filtering through the slitted windows up above, it seemed so light and airy. A shelf ran around the wall of the white dome, with small potted plants all along it. Yamin inhaled again, feeling any little niggles in her feet and knees from the walk here flow away, just from the comforting smell of all those plants.
Big stone blocks, all draped with white cloth, were arranged through the room. Men and women, mostly in dusty red palace staff uniforms, sat on the blocks while the green-robed healers took care of them.
‘Now, what can I help you with?’
Yamin jumped at the voice, snapping around to see the healer’s round, smiling face.
‘My name’s Nanuka,’ the green-robed healer told her. ‘What’s your name?’
Yamin blinked several times and stared blankly back at the healer. Normally Mama or Papa was around to answer that question. Her throat squeaked faintly, but closed over before she could think how to give the woman her name.
‘It’s okay,’ Nanuka soothed, resting a hand on Yamin’s shoulder. ‘Don’t be shy. Just show me where it hurts.’
Yamin blinked again in confusion. Hurts? She shook her head. She didn’t hurt anywhere. She just wanted to see the healing house inside.
‘Do you know where your parents are?’ the healer tried again. ‘Where’s Mama?’
Yamin smiled. This was a question she could answer. She pointed back at the palace, at the spot where she knew the laundry was.
‘So you’re not lost?’ Nanuka clarified.
Yamin shook her head with a grin.
‘And you’re not hurt…’ The healer sounded almost as though she was talking to herself now, but Yamin shook her head again anyway.
Finally Nanuka smirked and cast her eyes out into the courtyard. ‘Ah, I know,’ she decided with a slow nod. ‘Mama brought you here for the Own challenge, am I right?’
Yamin nodded vigorously, drawing a laugh from the healer.
‘What have we here?’ The new voice was stern and scratched with age. Its owner wore a blue robe in place of the soft green that all the other healers wore.
Yamin shrunk back, desperate for Mama’s hand to cling to, but it wasn’t there. Nanuka’s would have to do, but it was so small compared to Mama’s, and when the healer stood up, she didn’t need to hold her own hand up as high as she did for Mama. It wasn’t an altogether very comforting hand to grip onto, but at least it gripped back.
‘Just a visitor, Madame,’ Nanuka said lightly. ‘She’s here for the Own challenge and just got bored of waiting in the laundry with Mama, I suppose. Is that right?’ She turned her face down to Yamin with an encouraging smile, but Yamin could only give a slight nod in response.
‘Very well,’ the healer in blue decided. ‘She’s under your charge, Nanuka, until the Own challenge. Just don’t let her disturb the patients.’
Yamin shook her head as she chewed on her bottom lip.
‘Of course not,’ Nanuka answered. ‘Thank you, Madame.’ She dropped down to Yamin’s level as the woman in blue turned to leave. ‘Don’t be scared of her, Sweetling. Madame Auin is the head healer. She’s a lovely lady.’ She grinned and held a hand up to hide her mouth, then said in a harsh whisper, ‘She just doesn’t think much of the Own.’
Yamin watched with wide eyes as Madame Auin walked off, making note to avoid the old lady for the rest of the day.
‘Come on,’ Nanuka said brightly, bouncing to her feet and taking Yamin’s hand again. ‘You can come and help me mix some burn cream if you’d like.’
Yamin nodded again, looking around the healing house with renewed fascination now that the scary old woman had gone. A door at the back led outside to where Yamin could see a small pool of water, shaded by a few palms and the palace’s outer wall. More plants grew around the pool, though only a few had flowers on them. She wondered if maybe the healers used those plants in the healing house.
There were more doors on either side of the big white room, closed off by green curtains. One curtain was open, but the room beyond it was too dark for Yamin to be able to see anything inside it.
‘Don’t go into any of the side rooms,’ Nanuka warned her. ‘There are very, very sick people in those rooms, and they need as much rest as they can get so they can get better.’
Yamin nodded and quietly begged for Lin to make those people healthy again, then followed Nanuka out of the back door into the small garden.
‘This is aloe vera,’ the healer explained, kneeling down beside a plant with thick leaves. Sharp spikes ran up each edge of the leaves, and Nanuka carefully avoided them as she sliced one leaf off. ‘We mix its sap with beeswax to make burn cream.’
She swung herself back to her feet and ran her knife down each side of the leaf to cut off its thorns, then handed it to Yamin. Already the creamy white sap was leaking out of the cuts, and Yamin had to hold it away from herself to stop it from dripping on her skirt.
Nanuka held out her hand for Yamin to take, then led her back into the healing house. She hooked her hands under Yamin’s arms and hoisted her up with a grunt of effort, then set her down on the stone bench.
‘Now if I can just find a bowl…’ She ducked down and opened one of the cupboards under Yamin’s legs. ‘Aha, here we go. Now if you can squeeze all the sap from that leaf into this bowl, I’ll go and get the beeswax.’
Yamin nodded and held the leaf by the thick end, watching as the already waxy white liquid dribbled off the tip and pooled in the shiny clay bowl, like rain on the leaves of the yucca at the back of her house. She gripped the leaf with her other hand and squeezed. Sap oozed over her fingers, stark white against her dark olive skin and the darker red-brown of the bowl.
She grinned and giggled, drawing pictures in the bottom of the bowl with the aloe vera sap.
‘You look like you’re having fun.’ Nanuka had returned with something wrapped in cloth.
Yamin nodded and giggled again as she squeezed more sap out of the leaf. It was a soppy green-and-white mess by the time she’d finished with it, but making a mess was fun.
Nanuka unwrapped her lump of soft, squishy beeswax and scooped some of it with her fingers into the bowl, then began mixing it all together. Yamin delved her fingers into the mixture too, squeezing it until it became a smooth, warm cream.
‘Perfect,’ Nanuka said with a grin, wiping the excess salve off her fingers with a cloth.
Yamin grinned proudly and kicked her legs against the cupboards.
‘No doubt that will see some use by the end of the day,’ the healer sighed with a shake of her head, then shrugged. ‘Now, let’s see what else we have for you to help out with.’
Yamin spent the morning helping in the healing house in any way she could, rolling bandages, fetching water from the small pool of water at the back and learning what some of the plants at its edge were used for. She could have easily spent the whole day in there, and became so engrossed in the workings of the white dome that she almost forgot the main reason she was at the palace.
That was, until Nimay appeared at the door.
Yamin snapped her head up from the spiky plant Nanuka was telling her about, then jumped to her feet and ran back into the healing house to where her sister was waiting impatiently by the door.
She quickly turned back to Nanuka, who had followed close behind at Yamin’s abrupt disappearance, and gave her the traditional sign for thanks, pressing her palms together under her chest, fingers touching opposite wrists.
‘Weren’t you keeping an eye on her?’ Yamin cringed at the stern voice of Madame Auin, but she wasn’t nearly as scary with Nimay there.
‘I have been,’ Nanuka replied, ruffling Yamin’s hair. ‘She’s been an absolute delight all—oh goodness, there are two of them.’
Yamin gave a cheeky giggle that she could hear mirrored on the other side of the room, then began darting and weaving between the bed blocks to greet her sister.
Nimay beckoned her urgently, and Yamin could see people already gathering in the courtyard outside.
She dipped her head briefly to Nanuka and the head healer, then dashed out of the healing house towards the growing crowd of people. In the crowd, she could recognise the dusty orange uniform the palace staff wore, and she wondered if Mama was among them yet. There were lots of army men watching, too, grouped off in bunches of red, orange, purple and blue shirts, and groups of people in expensive looking uniforms that Yamin didn’t recognise.
Nimay gripped her hand and began threading her way through the crowd, finally bursting out into the front where they could both sit down on the warm cobbles and have the best view. Everyone had formed in a big circle, at the centre of which stood four men. Two wore the red shirts of the army’s swordsmen, one was all in black with twinkling silver trim around his neck, and the forth, much larger than the other three, wore the richest and most beautiful clothes Yamin had ever seen.
She gasped and pointed at the group of four with a jittering hand. That was the king, surely!
Nimay nodded enthusiastically, though it was neither the king nor the man in black and silver who she was interested in, only the two swordsmen in red shirts.
The crowd continued to grow, until Yamin was certain everyone in the palace was gathered around by now, but she still couldn’t spot Mama.
Nimay tugged on her sleeve and pointed straight up.
Yamin shaded her eyes from the sun and squinted at where Nimay was pointing. On the balcony, two floors and a thousand feet above the ground, Yamin could see a boy with his arms crossed on the railing, intently watching the crowd grow. He must be the prince, Yamin decided. She waved up at him, then giggled and hid her face in Nimay’s shoulder when he waved back.
Finally, the black man gave one of the swordsmen a slap on the shoulder, then jogged to the edge of the circle where another small group of red shirts was gathered, arms folded. They all looked very casual as they chatted, especially compared to the crowd behind them. People were already shaking their fists, cheering and yelling at the two swordsmen.
On a quick signal from the king, the men in red shirts drew their swords, unclipped their sheathes from their hips and handed them to the king. Yamin could hear her twin gasp in awe beside her, and she instantly knew which of the two was Rumal, the challenger. His sword was so plain as he twisted it in his grip.
The other man, already riding with the King’s Own, had an ornately decorated handle, and from this distance it looked something like a bat or a dragon. He swung it a few times in the air, and the crowd cheered expectantly.
The king held up both hands as the two men separated, rolling their shoulders and jiggling their arms as they glared at each other.
‘On my left,’ the king shouted as he waited for the crowd to quieten down a bit. ‘On my left, I am proud to present to you, your current rider for the King’s Own, Laeron!’
Cheers and waving arms erupted from the palace staff, so loud that Yamin almost felt like cheering with them, though she had no idea who Laeron was.
Laeron lifted his arms and waved the fingers of his free hand, urging them to cheer louder. When he was satisfied, he gave a flourished bow and spun his sword in another circle. Yamin grinned and hugged her knees in excitement.
‘On my right!’ the king shouted again, louder this time to combat the even noisier crowd. ‘On my right, I present to you the challenger, Rumal!’
Yamin shrank down at the hisses that came from the palace staff this time. Apparently they were as enamoured with the Southerner as Papa was, but Yamin couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.
Rumal held his hands out helplessly, and Yamin could hear Laeron yell something at him, though she couldn’t hear his words over the hissing. She wasn’t sure she wanted to, either.
The challenger made a rude gesture to the crowd and to the Own rider he was challenging, drawing more noise from the courtyard.
The king was carefully watching both of them and took a few steps back, hands clasped behind his back. ‘First blood-draw from the torso!’ he roared, and the challenge began.
Or at least, Yamin assumed it had begun, but nothing was happening. The two swordsmen were just walking around in circles yelling at each other and spinning their swords in their grip.
She released a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding and held a hand over her chest to still her fluttering heart. Why weren’t they doing anything?
Nimay slapped her on the arm and gave her a slightly scornful look. They were preparing, watching each other for weaknesses, waiting for the other to make a mistake.
Yamin nodded slowly, but she still couldn’t see how they could see any of that from just yelling at each other.
The Own rider Laeron suddenly snapped forwards and rushed at his challenger, and the two met in a dazzling flash of blades. Their swords whipped around faster than Yamin’s eyes could follow them so they were little more than a blur of red and silver.
The people around her seemed to know more about what was going on, letting out noises of sympathy when something went against Laeron, cheering when he got it right and yelling encouragement out to him.
‘I can’t watch this,’ one man said behind Yamin.
‘Then don’t,’ his companion countered.
‘Lin’s blood, that guy is fast. Did you see that? How do they do that?’ There was a slight pause. ‘He’s going to lose it.’
‘Don’t be such a pessimist. He’s still faster than the other guy.’
‘I still don’t like it. Come on, Laeron. Don’t go down to an Aeia-damned Southerner.’
The swordsmen continued to spin and dance in the middle of the circle, their swords flashing in the sunlight and clanging loud over the noises of the palace staff. Not once did either of them let up or back away to catch his breath. They just kept swinging their steel at each other, teeth gritted and brows set.
After what seemed an age, Laeron stumbled backwards. A dark patch stained his chest, and Yamin could see a tear in his shirt. It was over. Rumal had won.
The crowd was stunned into a split second of silence, then began hissing and yelling their disbelief. Rumal was now a part of the King’s Own.
Yamin shrunk down away from the noises of the crowd. Even the group of Own riders on the edge of the circle were shouting and waving their arms in anger.
An even louder roar came from the middle of the circle, where the realisation had apparently dawned on the former Own rider. Laeron gripped his sword and lunged again at Rumal, who was bent over his sword and breathing heavily.
Yamin squealed and buried her face into her knees, hearing the steel clashing again in front of her and the crowd roaring behind her.
Nimay’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, then the other curled around her knees as she rested her head against Yamin’s. Already Yamin could feel her heart slow, and she cautiously lifted her eyes again, keeping most of her face hidden behind her knees.
Just as she looked up, Laeron’s sword flew high into the air with a loud cry from the crowd. Rumal ran backwards to catch it in his free hand, then swung both blades threateningly at the former Own rider. He strode forwards and whipped the blades up, crossing them at Laeron’s neck.
Yamin cried out again and squeezed her eyes shut. Even Nimay couldn’t watch now. Yamin could feel her face pressed against her arm. Her comforting hug tightened, probably as much to soothe herself as Yamin.
She did her best to block out the sounds around her, but she could still hear the abuse the crowd still yelled at Rumal. It seemed like an eternity that they crouched there at the edge of the circle, too scared to move.
Finally, a big, warm hand rested on Yamin’s dark hair. Still with her eyes squeezed shut, Yamin gripped Mama’s shoulders with both arms, not daring to let go until they were well out of the palace grounds.
She didn’t like Southerners, Yamin decided, but from what she’d seen of Laeron, the King’s Own wasn’t much better.
Stuff~
o Rumal was freaking scary back then. Not much better now, but still. I want to rewrite that not from the perspective of a seven-year-old, cos I do so love Rumal XD
o Laeron was also freaking scary, and he still is <3
o I love hands. Spot the hand references as the fic goes on XD
o Nanuka is a luff <3
o I wrote the last three pages-worth at uni just now =D Just in time for English to start, wai *dashes*
no subject
Date: 2007-09-07 04:52 am (UTC)The crowd continued to grow, until Yamin was certain everyone in the palace was gathered around by now, but she still couldn’t spot Mama.
Nimay tugged on her sleeve and pointed straight up.
Yamin shaded her eyes from the sun and squinted at where Nimay was pointing. On the balcony, two floors and a thousand feet above the ground, Yamin could see a boy with his arms crossed on the railing, intently watching the crowd grow. He must be the prince, Yamin decided. She waved up at him, then giggled and hid her face in Nimay’s shoulder when he waved back.
Finally, the black man gave one of the swordsmen a slap on the shoulder...
no subject
Date: 2007-09-07 05:34 am (UTC)About the 'too good for accidental death' thing, mmm, I dunno ... accidents happen to even the best. Look how many stuntmen die, or are at least very seriously wounded :(