Date: July 29, 1998
Place: Guest Room - Atesh-Gah - Haven
Cast: Adham, Jade, Kama, Leila, Rashid, Rubia
Scene: Adham Kalil Kedhav has a debt to repay, and the payment will come in the form of one of his four daughters, to be chosen by Rashid of Clan Messala, for the courage his uncle showed in battle many years before.

Guest Room - Atesh-Gah - Haven:
      Thick carpet pads steps underfoot as one enters the guest chamber, the royal blue and ivory pattern leading the eye toward the bed. A comfortably large affair, made for two, and covered in a blue velvet coverlet, it rests on a teak pedestal set with drawers. Upon the near wall hangs a polished steel mirror to face the bed, and the arched window, hung with blue velvet draperies behind it. To the right stands the teak wardrobe, and tucked into the far corner is a doorway covered with a blue and ivory tapestry, into a bath. To the left of the bed are a pair of padded settle chairs with blue cushions, a small marble-topped table standing between them, where the slanting light from the window can fall in the afternoons or early mornings. The fragrance of Atesh-Gah's garden wafts up from below, sinuously scenting the room when the window is opened.

Adham Kalil, Warlord of Clan Kedhav, seems to very rarely relax during his waking hours. This, however, seems to be one of those rare moments, for he is found enjoying a pipe as he reclines in a lush chair and dictates some sort of Official Business to a scribe at his side, who scribbles madly on a sheet of parchment.

Along the edge of the room sit a colorful array of forms of a near size, all with heads bowed. The rose, blue, green, and cream fabric draping the four women harmonizes in hue. The cluster is sitting closer together than would be usual and of the group of young women, those who are usually quiet are restless and those who are restless are too still.

Kama, at one end of the line of women wiggles beneath her pink draping as she bows her head over toward the others to whisper. "Why were we brought her, all of us, like this?"

Beneath massive brows, Adham turns his eyes toward the women. A dismissing wave as he commands his scribe: "Segel, take care of that. Leave us." He rises to his feet as the scribe bows and quickly leaves the room, the Warlord's barrel chest seeming to inflate as he watches the women with a stern gaze.

Three of the daughters are quite beautiful by Varati or any other standards. They are graceful, lovely of form, have balanced even features, and smooth complexions. All seem healthy and well-trained from their demeanor, though Kama, the youngest, is too energetic to sit still long. They sit in a row, Kama in rose pink, Rubia in blue, Jade, and last in the row is Leila who is clad in cream brocade.

Jade sits a little behind the others either to give her room for the work she is doing, or perhaps to let the others in the foreground. Average, just an average Varati female is Jade's superficial appearance. Average height and weight, average figure, neither thin nor rotund, deep bronze skin hues, thick black lashes around expressive dark brown eyes and black eyebrows; she's just average. It takes close observation for Jade's unique qualities to become obvious. Hands do not flit about, but move with purpose and have thickened weaver's markings. Her voice is softly melodic with resonance that gives it fullness. Eyes are often cast down more to hide distraction when a busy mind becomes active than to be demure. Grace and poise are evident with her lithe movements. Head to toe, a cascade of light green silk envelopes Jade. A wide jade circlet is worn on the crown of the head to anchor fabric to hide her hair and veils of thinner material across the face. Extraordinary, complex woven bands edge hems, sleeves, neck opening, and head cloth are just as valuable as the jewelry they replace.

Rubia glances up between her lashes and elbows her sister surreptitiously. "Why do you think, Kama? Be still before you get us all in trouble." Leila nods slightly in agreement with that statement.

Jade keeps her head bowed and serenely works at stitching a thick, binding thread around the edge of a narrow strip of weaving in her lap, yet she seems from the momentary pause her hands make, to be quite aware of the gaze resting on her.

The four peek up through their lashes at their father.

"As Warlord," Adham's thick baritone carries contemplative undertones and move at a ponderous pace, "it is my duty to find husbands for my daughters and the daughters of kin." A break in his speech, his gaze plodding along over the group. "One of you will receive a high honor on this day."

A faint rustle of material and a muted 'tink' indicates someone must have moved, though not obviously. Kama. the youngest of the lot is not one to let a slight go by. Her hand, resting close to Rubia must have administered a pinch from the jerk the girl made.

Rubia risks a look upward, her high-toned voice verging on shrill. "One of us? Maybe me? I might finally get a husband?" What a shame that voice.

None of the others are unaffected, Leila and Kama smile to themselves and reach fingers up to preen as if they know they will be the lucky one, and Jade looks down in trepidation.

Jade softly asks. "May we know more, Imphadi?"

A long pause, then Adham explains carefully, "When al-Hakan led Clan Hessar at Sevilena Pass, the Amir-al blessed Clan Kedhav by sending Agni-Haidar to aid our soldiers. The Seraskier who fought at my side gave his life to keep a Hessar blade from my back, and this debt of honor is one which must be repaid." His eyes seek out each of you in turn. "I hear his nephew is quite handsome, for a Messala."

Downcast eyes move one to the other as each of the girls assess their competition. Leila hisses to Rubia. "You know what at you were told. You keep your mouth shut. You aren't supposed to talk."

Jade's hands still their action in her lap. She looks at the more beautiful three as if wondering why she was included. "One of us? Then why are we all here, Imphadi?" Others fall silent and look up at Adham as if that had not occurred to them as yet.

Adham's pacing halts as he stands before Jade, his stern gaze seeming to almost dissect her visually. "I want to see what this man is made of," he finally replies. "And by his choice, I will learn much. That is all you need to know."

Jade bears the weight of that glance stoically, her hands remaining still. She does not respond for a long moment, then finally peeks up as she asks demurely, "and what do you want of us, Imphadi. How will we help in what you wish?"

"You will be yourselves," Adham replies boomingly, sounding somewhat irritated. "Act your station and show the respect due to the Agni-Haidar's finest Kaimakam." To one of the guards near the door he commands, "Send for Rashid Messala."

Rashid nods to the guard as he is brought to the chamber. His manner is subdued, though he demonstrates respect to a much-honored warlord by bowing fully to half. He speaks not a word as he rises, nor does his gaze shift from the image of Adham.

Adham paces slowly before a row of women. Four of them, to be exact, and all bearing that certain touch to their features which labels them as daughters of Clan Kedhav. The Warlord turns toward the door and acknowledges Rashid's entrance in his Varati baritone, "I am honored by your acceptance of my summons, imphadi. Rise, please. We have matters to discuss."

To the side of the room adjacent to the wall sit four females, each with heads properly bowed. One dressed in shades of blue lifts her eyes enough to peek. If the others do, they are less obvious about it.

Rashid speaks in a low tone, and the sound seems to come rumbling from within his chest. "If there is service I may do for you, I am honored." Self control is this man's forte, as, although faced with a Warlord in what seems to be a private discussion, he is surrounded by four women. And nary once does his gaze falter.

"Clan Kedhav has always paid its debts of honor," Adham begins, his stoic eyes trained so precisely on Rashid that there's no question the Warlord watches the Kaimakam's every move. "Sometimes a debt is so deep as to be owed to a bloodline rather than an individual. This is one such instance. The sacrifice your uncle made occurred so many years ago that you would likely be hard-pressed to remember, Rashid Messala."

Near-silence reigns among the four females. Demurely lowered eyes and heads do not mask the alertness that even the material covering them head to toe can not conceal. A faint tink-chink sound comes from one in cream-colored brocade, heavily draped with jewelry and small bells that make soft sounds just from her breathing.

The faint sound of thread being drawn through dense material may be lightly heard as Jade's fingers make another stitch in the weaving in her lap.

Rashid again nods curtly, but this time as his chin meets his chest, it is slower to rise. As his gaze rises once more, he replies, "I remember nothing of my family once I was gifted to the Khalid. My childhood has been of nothing else but to his service."

A broad smile shows Adham's yellowed, battle-marred smile. The expression does nothing to alter the emotional blankness of his visage. "A tradition long-practiced by the closest of the Clans," he replies deeply. "Your uncle was such a gift, a proud warrior, and a brave one. But his sacrifice was done in the name of the Agni-Haidar, not Clan Messala. Because of this, I have waited until you became of age, a Messala amongst the Agni-Haidar, for repayment."

The tinkling sound becomes a little more pronounced as a nervous breath is taken. One of the four shifts even more restlessly and peeks up in a quick gesture while she thinks the men are distracted, then lowers her head. The others remain silent as if ignoring this one at the end of the line.

Jade, toward the middle of the line, and a little behind the others, continues to stitch the binding on the weaving. Her eyes track her thread and hand movements enough to get a look if she so chose, though do not raise more than necessary to the task.

Rashid's brow furrows only slightly, then, as if the sun were rising across the ocean on a glorious day, an expression of purest pride swells across this man's face. It is swift to disappear though, as he asks, "If I am permitted, I would know what sacrifice, and my uncle's name."

"The Seraskier Jehan Messala," Adham replies rumblingly. "During the Clan Hessar battles in '88, he gave his life to save mine at Sevilena Pass."

Rashid's eyes widen somewhat, then as he lowers his gaze, he asks, "What may I do to aid you in repaying this debt of honor?"

The four sisters seem to draw closer together--an effect of the way they lean slightly or tilt heads rather than actually sifting position. The colors each wears ranges from rose on the first to blue on the next, green, then to cream--fine quality material. Properly, little can be heard from this group as the men conduct their business.

Adham takes several steps toward Rashid, clapping the younger man reassuringly on the shoulder. "I would be most honored if you would accept a gift from me," the Warlord says. "A wife of your picking, chosen from these four daughters of mine." A sweeping hand encompasses the four seated woman.

Jade's fingers freeze in their task as the words hang in the air and surround the women. The woman in rose material giggles nervously and dips her head lower.

Rashid blinks, swallows, then, for the first time, turns his attention to the women. Though he does not stammer, it is plain it is through a test of will. "Thank you. You honor me with such a gift." This seems to be about as much as he is able to say, or at least as much as his mouth seems willing to express. But his attention is now fully on those four women... one of whom, it seems, he must choose.

Adham motions one of the girls forward with a flick and a command, "Rubia, present yourself." His eyes are on Rashid, however, and perhaps a hint of a smile twitches at the corner of the stern Warlord's mouth.

One of the four gulps and they all look down, giving a nice view of the tops of their heads.

Hesitantly, the one in blue rises. She steps forward just a tiny amount, her jewelry making a slight 'chink'. She raises her eyes, lovely ones, up shyly to peek and lowers them. A glimpse of the flawless bronze complexion shows. Beneath the material seems to be a rather lovely form.

Rashid steps forward, his gaze taking in the form standing before him. He seems to appreciate it, but swiftly is gone his expression of surprise. He asks, his tone a low, measured rumble, "What are you skills, Rubia?"

Adham stands to the side and watches the interaction, hands clasped behind his back and barrel chest inflated. He is the very image of a proud father.

The woman is silent for a long moment. She looks back toward Leila with a quick sidelong glance and then lowers her head. She begins to shuffle her feet and move rhythmically, her hands making sensual movements as if a flame slowly coming to life and rising. The henna-stained designs on the dusky hued flesh lend to the ornate pattern. Slowly, the movements move up her arms and to her shoulders, body, displaying her skill to its full form, dance, this one can dance. She moves silently in time to the unheard beat that resonates within her.

As Rubia's dance ends, there is a faint movement beneath her veils as if she would speak, but after a clearing of a throat is heard from behind her, she drops her head and remains silent.

Any man who could stand, watching such a beautiful display from any woman, and not be aroused in any fashion would not be a man. Rashid is a man. Though he steels himself to keep an open mind for his future is before him in any of these four women, he watches the dance mesmerized for a moment. As the dance ends, he nods, a smile encroaching as he remarks, "Very beautiful." Surely more could be said, but his mouth seems unable to form them. Finally, he asks, "Speak your name." An odd request, but one made.

Adham continues to watch, stoic and passive. If the dancing moved him, he does not show it.

Soft brown eyes raise, filled with dismay, moisture starting to line the lower lids. Finally a voice emerges from beneath the blue veils, artificially lowered but still very shrill and nasal as it speaks. "Rubia, my name is Rubia."

Rashid nods, the smile remaining, though it seems something questioned was answered. He motions to the seat, a gently spoken, "Please, sit." Then, his attention returns to Adham. Another nod, "She is a most marvelous dancer. I see your pride."

The one in blue returns to her place and sits down. She whispers to Leila. "See, I told you it wouldn't work."

Leila ignores her and nervously twists her hands in her lap.

"There is more," Adham replies curtly. "Leila, present yourself." And again, he goes silent and watches the young Kaimakam.

Rashid turns once more to watch. This time, he seems steeled for whatever she might provide him, remembering her sister's talent.

The one in the rose material shifts restlessly and her fingers peek out to play with some of her rings, twisting and turning them in her fingers and making beams of light reflected from the gold and gems trace patterns on the floor.

Leila, in cream brocade, rises from her place. Her garb sways lightly as she advances forward, all fluid femininity. Shyly she raises her eyes, equally as lovely as Rubia's, then lowers them. Her voice is musically soft as she looks up toward this one watching her and speaks. The tones caress the ear. "I am called Leila". She then falls silent and lowers her eyes shyly.

Rashid nods, polite. But as he does his jaw tenses at the sound. A smile forms once more as he asks, "What is your talent, Leila?" His own voice is a resonant baritone.

The woman in the cream-colored brocade keeps her eyes downcast. It seems to take her a moment to compose herself. Her head lifts and she begins to sing--sweet, true tones of a wide range, tones to soothe or inspire as the song should dictate. As she sings, her arms raise and her chest and legs move to accompany the words with a few motions. The material presses briefly against a superior feminine form, though one that may not necessarily be maternal from the slim hips.

Rashid's head tilts slightly as he listens, observing her figure more intently as she seems so plainly displayed. The faintest of frowns forms, but it is quick to disappear as he smiles to her, nodding in pleasure at the sound of the voice. He speaks quietly, "Remarkable."

Leila lowers her head and awaits any further instructions, properly submissive after a darting glance up toward her father.

Adham's mouth seems to curl into a smile against his will, as he asks, "Have you chosen, then, Rashid?"

Rashid turns to Adham, clearly surprised at his question, "To choose without giving your other two daughters their chance would be doing you, and them, a great dishonor." He smiles, then, "But I will say it is a difficult choice at best, and one for which I will thank my uncle when next we meet."

"I am giving you one of my daughters," Adham chuckles rumblingly as he replies. "I trust you shall delay that meeting as long as possible. Kama, present yourself."

Rashid brushes a finger across his mouth, hiding the smile slowly building, "With any of your daughters at my side, you may trust that I shall delay that meeting until Khalid himself commands me draw my last breath."

Kama, in the rose-pink material suppresses a giggle at that and reaches forward to grab for a ring which escapes her grasp and rolls across the floor. When she stands, not quite so gracefully as the others after her scramble, she emulates her two sisters with a few subtle variations. Her eyes can not keep from peeking up many times and they dance with excitement. Her shoulders shake as she tries to stop another giggle and she shifts her weight nervously from foot to foot for a few seconds before coming to rest. The youngest of the four holds herself ready for her turn.

Rashid turns now, to this one. He notes her excitement, then asks, as he had the others, "What is your talent, Kama?"

A nervous giggle and a puff of breath stirs the pink veil. Kama looks up toward the man with her eyes widening. Her voice is pleasant enough as she speaks in a quick flow where one word trips over the next. "I'm still in training to learn things. They tried me on an instrument first but I was not good enough to accompany my sisters, and I don't like some of the needlework. Rubia is supposed to try to teach me to dance, but I can learn," She sounds eager, this one. "If you have someone else to teach me, I'll do my best to learn."

Rashid's brow furrows, but not as a true frown, more in thought. He asks, "What do you like to do, then?" His hands clasp at his back as he watches this young woman, a smile forming, though his manner is as a teacher.

Rubia and Leila both roll their eyes as the girl chatters on against every lesson she has been taught so far.

Kama's eyes smile up at Rashid with childlike boldness. Her form is lovely, that of a woman just blooming. Kama wrinkles her nose beneath the veil and lowers her head and her eyes. "I like to soak in the baths and listen to the storytelling and walks in the harem garden. And I like to try on clothes, and to talk to people." She raises a hand to her mouth as she giggles again. Kama continues. "And I like jewelry and I can take care of it and know all about it. I know how to clean it and shine it up and take scratches out. Is that a talent?"

Rashid nods, smiling, "Yes. I would say that is a talent." Still smiling, he says gently, "Thank you. Please sit." His smile seems to extend and broaden as he looks back to Adham.

Adham motions toward the final specimen. "And now, Jade, my daughter by my favored concubine. Present yourself, Jade." He seems to ignore Rashid's grin.

Rashid turns back to watch Jade. He arches a brow at the introduction, somewhat more elaborate than that given the others, and as such, his attention is drawn even moreso to her.

Kama turns and walks back toward the others. Her shoulders and step, and eyes peeking over her veil seem to shout. "See, you don't know anything, he did like me, I know it." to her sisters as she faces them and not the men. She takes her place back on the floor pillows.

The three who have had their turn glance at each other and smile, their eyes near smirking at each other as if to say 'why bother, it's got to be one of us.'

Jade takes a moment to finish a final stitch and tie a knot, a knife trimming the thread before she stands. Stepping forward, she stretches out both hands across which lies a woven saddlebag. The threads are dense and evenly knotted. The trim is smooth and flat, the tightly packed wool making a sturdy yet beautiful weaving. "I sing, but not so well as Leila. I dance, but not as well as Rubia. I can do most of the things expected of one raised such as I have been, and I weave these modest things." Her voice is mellow and pleasant. The eyes rise briefly then lower as she falls silent.

Rashid looks back towards Jade. Though somewhat surprised by her honesty, he plainly finds it appealing. For the first time, he takes a step forward, hands reaching to take the saddlebag. As he does, his gaze travels across her entire figure, noting any flaws as there might be, but seeming pleased with what he sees. With a smile, he says, "I sing as any man would. I dance as any Agni-Haidar. I do what is expected of me, raised as I have been." Then, looking down to the saddlebag, "But this is one talent I have not."

Another smile crosses Adham's face as he watches the exchange, but he remains out of the way.

Jade lets her hands drop to her side. Her eyes rise, startled at the hint of approval she detects. Her glance drops again, sidling to her more beautiful sisters and then back to rest on the weaving she completed. One hand presses against the green material. Her figure is nothing to be ashamed of, but not nearly as lovely as her sisters.

Rashid places the saddlebag over his shoulder with one hand, the other reaches to take one of Jade's. The smile forming is warm, gentle, though not unlike a warmed stone heated by the sun for so long, its center is near molten. Without looking back to Adham, he intones, "Jade, would you have me?"

Jade looks back at her sisters again, then toward her father, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. She lowers them as she swallows audibly and nods. "Yes. I will," come the soft words.

From the women in pink, cream, and blue garb come disgruntled murmurings and sighs of disappointment before they fall silent. When Jade peeks at them again, they seem to have adjusted, and each smiles with her eyes.

Kama whispers. "How lucky you are, Sister. I wish you joy and many sons, a long life."

Rashid steps forward, taking her hand and drawing it closer, almost touching his chest while his other hand clasps over the hand, concealing it completely. He asks, "If you do not wish me, I will choose another. But it must be your choice. I will take none that does not wish my company. I am a fierce man with loyalties and a desire for great honor. It would serve neither your family's honor, nor mine, if you came not of your own will."

Jade slowly looks up into Rashid's face, searching it for a moment. What she sees there and the words she hears reassure her. She speaks again, the uncertainty gone. "I come of my free will to you. It is my choice, Imphadi."

Rashid nods once, his smile leaving for only a moment. But it leaves not because he no longer has reason, but because he leans forward to kiss Jade. No more than his lips would touch.

Jade's eyes widen as the thin layer of material is pressed against her lips by Rashid's, so thin a barrier that it does little to impede sensation. Her breath catches and her fingers tighten to cling to the hand holding hers. Color floods her face and gives more warmth to the bronze coloration.

Rashid withdraws, once more to nod before he turns to look at Adham. Speaking as if to say a rite learned by any well-born man, he intones, "Imphadi Adham Kalil. I accept the gift of your daughter, Jade Kalil, to bring honor to both our Clans, and the Agni-Haidar, and as reminder of the honor brought by my uncle, Seraskier Jehan Messala." As he turns to look back to Jade, he says, gentler, "It would be my honor to take her as my wife."

Light intakes of breath can be heard form the three along the wall who remain seated, and a faint whisper... "Wife...he said wife."

Jade looks up into the countenance above her and even through the veils, a smile can be seen. Her voice is soft. "I am honored, Imphadi Rashid Messala, to become your wife." The words hesitate, not at the acceptance, but that she is unsure that it is proper to speak thusly.

Rashid looks once more to her sisters, a kind smile, "You all have fine qualities. You do your family, and father, great honor." Then to Jade, "Come. We should speak of the arrangements before our wedding." As he turns, keeping Jade's hand in both of his, never relinquishing it, he extends to Adham, "May Khalid's fire burn deep within your chest with many lifetimes of honor for your Clan."

Jade leans forward in a deeply respectful gesture toward her father, properly remaining silent. She looks almost tearful for a moment, blinking rapidly and lowering her gaze to the floor just in front of her feet. She nods to Rashid as she waits beside him.

Adham quietly ushers the three sisters from the chamber, affording Rashid and Jade a moment of privacy and quiet in which to plan. He still holds a smile of pride while looking to the flower of his children. Only the closing of the door breaks the silence.

FIN  

[ Home | News | Staff | Players | Links | Gallery | Logs | Library | Updates | Mail ]
[ Connect to the Game ]