Date: April 20, 2001 (Aether: March 6, 3908)
Place: Courtyard - Atesh-Gah - Haven
Cast: Mekhti, Sukhvir, Thalia, Vasuki
Scene: The Qadi of Messala is accused of being involved in the recent poisoning of Atesh-Gah's inhabitants during the festival of Dipavali. Sure enough, the little foppishly-dressed fellow turns out to be more than he seems -- though not quite in a way anyone was expecting.

Courtyard - Atesh-Gah - Haven:
      If indeed the Hebrew folk of lost Earth are correct in their legends, then this must be the legendary garden from which mankind was expelled. The flat expanse of the great courtyard of Atesh-Gah is covered in the most luxurious grass of bright emerald green, broken only by a cobblestone path for riding and walking to prevent wear upon the lawn. Rich copses of carefully tended wood grow by the walls, lovingly groomed flower gardens acting as a barrier of color before the rising trees.
      Perhaps even more relaxing than the sight of the yard are the sensations of it. The lovely scents of flower and tree; honey-suckle, apple blossom, peach, and jasmine; combine with the soft cushion of green grass to provide a sense of peace and harmony that defies the looming sand-hued walls of unbreakable stone. Not even the shadowed maw of the main gate, nor the blocky, unimpressive presence of the impenetrable main keep can overshadow the beauty of this place. Indeed, the stark contrast serves only to enhance it.

As the last light of the setting sun fades from the clouds, leaving the world a wet and depressing grey-black, the courtyard of Atesh-Gah is beginning to waken to spring. The first buds are on the branches, though the darkness has fallen, and the first flowers are beginning to show in the chill, wet ground. May lights burn in the windows of Atesh-Gah, a testament to how early it is even though the sun has set; many are still active, though the rain means they do not tarry in the open spaces.

"Cold, wet, miserable, stinking... ugh, look at this mud! And on my best boots. I hate this wretched city." The string of complaints are emanating from a dark little bald man, who's slogging his way through the mud and muck of the courtyard from the temple. Even his clothes, normally so jaunty and bright (too much so) seem a tad dingier. Vasuki hikes up his silwar (of a rosy plum hue) and trods on, scowling as more mud spatters onto his fine leather boots.

The regular regiment of ten Agni-Haidar accompany the fair Queen of the Varati. The red robes of the Queen's Atarvani protectors mix with the black and crimson of the Agni-Haidar. A single woman, but her mere presence fills the area around her with a sea of humanity.

From the dry confines of the main embassy building, Thalia ventures forth into the drenched courtyard. Two naraki, their clothing already showing signs of dampness from the weather, hold a large canopy over the Queen-Maharani; her lush figure and its exquisite sari, remains dry. The light from the windows glances off the gems that decorate her exposed skin, making them glitter like many-colored fireflies.

Thalia's passage is not one of idle enjoyment, not on this sodden night. Her stately promenade instead moves in the direction of the man of multifarious cloth. It is toward Vasuki of Clan Messala that Thalia strides.

On a bench between the Maharani and the Qadi of Messala, but off to one side, sits yet another Kshatri, his manner a match for the weather. Slumped forwards, his elbows on his knees and his head resting on his fists, is the Second Son of Temjin. His blood-red haik has turned a murky shade of darkness in the dim light, and it fails to billow at all, sodden as it is. Apparently Sukhvir has been out in the rain for quite a while. So far gone is he that even the approach of the Maharani's entire entourage goes unnoticed.

"Amir-al curse this city and every wretched kafir in it," Vasuki mutters peevishly, and he slogs on a few more steps before he notices the heavy tramp-tramp of other booted heels -- ones far more impressive than his. He stops short, and his groundward gaze takes in the appearance of a number of black-garbed feet, spewing out from Atesh-Gah. Slowly, his eyes lift, skimming across polished breastplates and all those many weapons the Agni-Haidar are so fond of carrying. And there, in the midst of them, the Queen-Maharani herself. Vasuki immediately affects a fawning, ingratiating smile as he bows low before the Queen.

"Most High! What an honor it is for me to bask in your presence. Truly I did not expect to find you on an outing here in the courtyard. Ahh, but you must tread carefully, oh gracious Maharani, for there is mud underfoot and you dare not soil your garments."

Thalia ceases her movement and looks at the bald Qadi. Her eyes roam over his choice of garb. "I am sure it is," she says dryly, unlike her usual gracious tone. "You are the very man that I seek to speak with. Let us talk here, in the middle of this mud-bemired courtyard." Under her canopy, she has remained dry and her silks have not been splashed by the puddles that litter the flagstones. The naraki who hold her canopy merely stare at the ground and seem grateful that warmer weather has arrived.

At the sound of so many feet walking together with purpose, Sukhvir looks up, dully; at the sight of the woman the Amir-Al has named Maharani, he slumps forward from his seat to kneel in the muck of the courtyard, seemingly uncaring for the clothing he wears. The shock of landing on his knees on hard stone seems to wake him from his stupor, but he stays on his knees. Oddly, he looks around the courtyard, moving his head just enough in its lowered position to see every angle but behind him, which would be too obvious.

"Here?" Vasuki echoes as his gaze roves from side to side. It settles briefly upon the kneeling Sukhvir, but evidently he dismisses the man as beneath his notice, for his gaze travels on. "But surely this setting is undeserving of your most gracious presence, Maharani. Would you not agree, with your enlightened wisdom, that it would not be better to retire to someplace dryer and more comfortable, where you can continue your discussion with this most humble servant?" The Qadi follows that bout of flattery with another bow, lower than before. He's also secretly counting the number of Agni-Haidar in the courtyard.

Thalia gives Vasuki a smile that is less than sincere. "I find the night air invigorating of the mind. The courtyard, even with its moisture-laden surface, I find quite suitable for speaking with one of my subjects." She looks over at the Atarvani that have accompanied her. "However, I am sure that one of the Atman can make a nice dry place for me to sit. So, that my comfort is assured and your concern lessened, Qadi." She gestures at the bench that has been abandoned by Sukhvir. "Perhaps this convenient bench." Thalia looks down at the kneeling and sopping figure of Sukhvir. "Please, Imphadi, rise."

Sukhvir rises as he is bidden, unfolding his tall and impeccably Varati frame and backing out of the Maharani's way even as he says, "Namaste, Maharani." A hint of worry crosses his face, though it is quickly smothered, but his eyes are never still. He shifts his shoulders, assuring himself that sword and bow are both securely in their resting places; he makes no move to leave the area, though, perhaps a little curious or perhaps simply at a loss as to what to do next.

Vasuki straightens now that Thalia has turned her attention away from him. Again, he studies Sukhvir, but it is with a clinical, dismissive air despite the man's apparent status as a kshatri warrior. He also throws another glance toward the guards accompanying Thalia. For that instant when no one's attention is on him, Vasuki loses all trappings of the fawning, ingratiating sycophant. His eyes are far too calculating.

But the instant passes, and the man becomes servile once more. "How might this humble Qadi be of service to you, imphada Maharani?"

Sukhvir senses: Vasuki's odd tattoo on the back of his skull might catch your notice. Primarily because, for a second, it seems to shimmer. And in that second is a flicker-flash of a vision. The rain beneath Vasuki's sodden bootheels transforms into the dark ichor of blood, and the blood sinks into the ground, burrowing down, down, tainting the very foundation of Atesh-Gah itself. Lightning flashes in the vision, and the tattoo on the back of Vasuki's skull uncoils like a snake, winding around his body until its pattern engulfs him, and serpent-like he becomes. Meanwhile, all of Atesh-Gah has turned a dark red, poisoned by the ichor that flowed from where he stood.

And then the vision passes.

One of Thalia's Atarvani moves forward from the pack and toward the bench vacated by Sukhvir. A moment later, the surface of the bench is dry, as if rain had never touched its surface. The Queen moves to the bench and seats herself before replying to Vasuki. Her naraki hustle to place themselves behind the bench and to continue shading Thalia from the rain. "Recent events have brought certain information to my attention. In light of words spoken to me, I have decided to seek you out, Qadi." She tips her head to the side. "Have you any idea of why recent events cause me to think of you?"

Sukhvir listens to the conversation between Qadi and Maharani for but a few bare moments, watching the world around him through narrowed eyes. Then, suddenly, his body grows rigid, his eyes open wide and lose their focus, his head turned so that he stares directly at the diminutive and badly-dressed Qadi of Messala. A few moments later, the rigidity is gone; with the return to life of Sukhvir, eyes narrow in rage, fists ball and lips curl back to expose teeth in rage and in shock. Shaking, the Son of Temjin quietly asks one of the Maharani's Atarvani if he might have a few quiet words; his eyes, however, never leave Vasuki.

Vasuki is perfectly oblivious to Sukhvir's sudden change in demeanor and his enraged stare. His bronze-colored eyes are on Thalia, wide and guilelessly innocent. "Me, Maharani?" he asks, pressing a hand to his lavishly embroidered sark. "If I have displeased you in some fashion, Oh Gracious One, then allow me to beg your forgiveness. Yet I cannot think what events might have prompted you to seek me out. If you are impatient that I have not yet gleaned the Empyreans' intentions toward the honored Khalida woman of the Amir-al's own Clan, then let me prostrate myself at your feet and beg your mercy -- both for myself and my assistant. I fear she has been spending more time with her Ushasti rituals than with her duties, but I have only myself to blame." Humble penitence drips from every word.

Thalia taps one finger against her chin. In a completely guileless tone, she says to Vasuki, "In truth, it is the tale that you told at my story contest, which has brought you back into my attention. Admittedly, events following the telling of you tale, drove it from my mind, but recent information has brought the subject of your tale back to my attention."

The Kshatri warrior and the Atarvani move off a few paces, and Sukhvir begins to explain something in very hurried, very quiet words. More than a few gestures are involved, and Sukhvir is sounding very quietly panicked by the tone of what can be heard, which is precious little through the rain. "... Amir-Al ... ... vision ... ... tattoo ... ... lightning ... heels ... snake ... ...!"

Vasuki's mask of guilelessness falters, for just a second, though that could easily be an effect of the poor lighting. He affixes a mild smile on his lips and waves one hand in a casual manner. "A mere story, oh shining one. I am afraid the drama of the moment quite ran away with me; it was only a silly little tale I overheard once. I thought it might please the audience, but I realize I was sorely mistaken. A thousand apologies, your most merciful highness."

He bows low, humbly, both hands pressed to his chest in a manner of subservience, and yet something causes him to falter in mid-bow and shoot a sudden glance toward Sukhvir. He'd heard part of that muttered comment.

Thalia exclaims mildly, "Truly?" She blinks at Vasuki. "In some circles, your story is considered seditious. Indeed, it is highly heretical. Pray tell, where did you overhear it. Given your choice of a serpent as a protagonist, I find your choice of tale highly suspicious." She tacks on. "Especially in light of information concerning the recent events. Or, has the mass poisoning of Khalid's faithful during Dipavali escaped your notice?"

The Atarvani nods at Sukhvir's tale, and makes a few reassuring noises before moving to speak a few words in the Maharani's ear, when he is given leave so to do. Sukhvir returns to his prior place, a slight smile on his lips, relaxed now. As a warrior before a battle. Those who watch carefully can see him flexing muscles against each other, warming them up without moving an inch.

Vasuki's faint smile fades into a look of concern. "Yes, I had heard of that, Oh She Who Is Most Deserving of Worship. It is to my eternal regret that I was not able to attend. I, myself, was afflicted with a most grievous sickness, Beneficent One. I could barely crawl out of bed, let alone attend the ceremony. But I prayed night and day to the Amir-al that he would heal his faithful followers."

The Qadi's eyes flicker momentarily toward Sukhvir and that Atarvani to whom he'd been speaking. They narrow a touch. Yet he goes on, speaking to the Maharani as if he had not noticed. "I barely remember where I first heard that story. Some time, long ago in the dim recesses of my childhood. But it was a harmless thing, Beloved Consort to the Divine. An ignorant child's fable. Pray forgive my gross misjudgment." Another bow, as humbly executed as before.

Thalia asks Vasuki, "Do you have an Imphada or an Imphadi who could testify that you were abed the entirety of Dipavali with your illness? Obviously, a shudra or a naraki could not bear witness given that one of either caste could be frightened or beaten into speaking falsehood." She now turns her head to take in the whispered words of the Atman Atarvani that spoke with Sukhvir. She listens, then turns her attention to Vasuki, not yet betraying what she has learned.

Sukhvir waits patiently. Moving just enough to warm his muscles, but not enough to be noticed by most.

Vasuki's eyes shift from Sukhvir, to the Atman, to the Maharani, and his smile is a mere thin line as he answers, "I was far too contagious to risk infecting any of my Clansmen, Oh She Who Resembles the Heavens. A lowly naraki tended me, but I think he caught the same sickness and died." He shakes his head pityingly. "A shame. Such loyalty is hard to find."

Thalia says "Truly a pity as testimony from one of Khalid's faithful might have exonerated you." She glances over at Sukhvir, yet her words are for Vasuki, "However, given the plentiful words that call into question your faith and truthfulness, I must ask you to submit yourself to arrest."

Sukhvir's slight smile grows just a little, acquiring more than a hint of malevolence, as though he is praying that Vasuki will not in fact submit to an arrest. For the embarrassment the little man has caused Sukhvir and the blindness of a friend, if nothing else, he wants revenge. Though he is not likely to be granted a diya, especially since the other has no honor, he would love to swing the sword to end the little man's life.

Vasuki goes absolutely still. Even the faint little smile on his face looks frozen. He stares at the Queen-Maharani for the space of perhaps three heartbeats, and then his eyelids shutter in a blink and he inquires -- calmly, even, "What is my crime?"

Thalia looks over at Sukhvir before replying to Vasuki carefully, "Your accused crime will be made known to you. If you are innocent of the accusations, then you need not fear arrest. Your faith will see you exonerated for you mind and heart are pure. If you are not innocent, then--" She looks Vasuki up and down, noting his clothing. "Your own actions will prove your true nature."

Sukhvir crosses his arms, folding them over his chest. He already believes that Vasuki is guilty -- the Amir-al himself has told him so, through the magic that the Amir-al has given him.

Those pale, bronze eyes, so unique in hue, never waver from Thalia. Quietly, Vasuki asks, "By whose eyes will I be deemed guilty?" He has no colorful epithets for her now. "Yours?"

Thalia states simply, "As I am Pasha of this mulk, your continued life or death does rest in my hands."

Sukhvir waits, one dark-clad warrior among many.

Bronze eyes finally drift away from the Queen-Maharani, and they dart to each Agni-Haidar and Atarvani in turn -- lingering a fraction of a second longer on Sukhvir, who must be somehow partially responsible for his predicament. Vasuki's lashes flicker in a blink, which is remarkable only because his eyes looked... different, for a second. Reptilian.

Back goes his gaze to Thalia, and the Qadi of Messala takes a careful step back. "No, little dove," he murmurs. "Your life rests in mine..."

At the back of his skull, where that odd, hourglass tattoo lies, dark scales radiate out across his skin.

Thalia does not appear to approve of Vasuki's change of attitude. She rises from her seat, using whatever advantage her diminutive height can provide. "A lion and a dove in your heretical tale. Are you claiming to be the serpent? Do you challenge my authority?" she accuses. The Maharani does not, as yet, appear to notice the extreme danger that is signaled by the radiating scales rippling across Vasuki's skin.

On the other hand, the Agni-Haidar and the Atarvani appear to have been waiting for some change in the status quo. Forewarned, the guardians of the Maharani begin moving forward to remove Thalia from harm's way.

Sukhvir is at the wrong angle to see the scales just yet, but the change in the small man's movements tells the experienced warrior that something is amiss. His hand goes to the hilt of the sword at the small of his back; his other hand reaches up to move his bow so that it will not hinder through what is coming. He moves towards the Maharani, if the Agni-Haidar will allow it, ready to help defend her against whatever the little man can do.

The scales ripple, flowing outward from the hourglass tattoo and across Vasuki's face, down along his throat, disappearing amid the neckline of his colorful sark and re-emerging to race across his hands. "Don't forget..." he whispers in a sibilant hiss, "that the snake was made king..." Pupils split, and he smiles, and his tongue flickers out, all forked and pink, while his two pointed canines ooze into needle-sharp fangs.

After that, it all happens very quickly. One moment he is standing there in all his foppish finery, and the next the clothes drop to the mud, and something writhes within them. Something long and coiled and serpentine. A hooded cobra slithers from the neckline of Vasuki's clothes and arrows straight toward the Queen-Maharani, gliding effortlessly across the ground. Its beady, bronze little eyes are fixated upon her with cold, alien fury.

One of the Agni-Haidar behind Thalia simply grabs the Queen by the upper arms, pinning her arms to her torso, and lifts the smaller woman off her feet. Dangling in the air, Thalia squeaks in surprise at the suddenness of the action. The guard begins to move Thalia over the bench and out of Vasuki's reach.

Death does not appear to be on the agenda of the other Agni-Haidar and Atarvani. Instead, a ring of fire springs into existence around the cobra. There is a hiss of steam as the flames contact the rain which soaks the flagstones, but the fire rages without concern for the water. Four Agni-Haidar are moving from behind the Maharani toward the transformed Vasuki. One of them whips off his cloak, as if preparing to use it as a temporary sack.

Sukhvir's sword too slips from its sheath, oiled Varati steel glimmering in the light cast by the windows of Atesh-Gah. The warrior moves to stand between the serpent and the queen, ready to protect her as best he can from the alien menace. With a fury all too human and every inch Varati contained within his frame, he desires nothing more at the moment than the death of the snake-shifter. The Amir-Al sent him warning; the least he can do is make use of it to protect the Amir-Al's wife. He waits, sword held in both hands, for the snake to emerge from the flames.

The snake balks, hissing, as it finds its way blocked by a wall of fire. The wall turns out to be a ring -- it slithers in a circle and each potential exit is blocked by flames. Baleful bronze eyes dart to the figures beyond the fire, and the muscles beneath smooth, scaled skin bunch and flex as the cobra coils in on itself. Its head rears up, hood flaring out, and it seeks the pale shape of the queen in the smoke and dimness. Spotting her, it gathers itself, bunched and tensed... then suddenly springing, arcing through the flames toward the winged 'dove' it chose as its prey -- no matter how many armed protectors she might have.

Mekhti steps out of the embassy and joins you in the courtyard.

Thalia kicks out her feet, not dealing well with being held dangling in the air by an iron-clad grip. One silk-shod foot, wet from the rain, strikes Sukhvir in the small of the back as he prepares to defend her. The Agni-Haidar continues to hold Thalia aloft, but having begun his turn, he finishes the action, swinging Thalia out of the direct line of Vasuki's attack.

Sukhvir, staggered by a kick from a direction he hadn't expected, manages to put himself directly in the cobra's path without realizing it...

The double doors of the embassy doors open, one lone figure slipping out into the darkness of the early morning hours. In one hand she carries a lantern -- though it is unlit -- her other hand busy lifting the hood of said cloak to cover the ebon locks of hair. Her actions freeze, though, as she sees the commotion in the Courtyard. And for a long moment, Mekhti is completely still -- hand still on the edge of the hood that now covers her head.

The olive-brown cobra strikes, and its aim was impeccable -- it just wasn't quite fast enough. Thalia is yanked out of reach just as Sukhvir staggers in the way, and thus those two needle-like fangs sink deep into the kshatri's shoulder, releasing all the venom that the former Qadi had meant for the Queen.

Two Agni-Haidar swoop down on the hapless Sukhvir. One of them has drawn his sword, but reversed his grip. He strikes at the head of the cobra with the pommel of his sword. The other Agni-Haidar is the one who had removed his cloak. He stands ready to scoop the serpent up into the cloak's folds once the snake has been removed from the kshatri.

"Alive!" calls out Thalia. "We must capture him alive." The Agni-Haidar does not put the Maharani back on her feet. Instead, he continues to move away from the scene of action, carrying her indignantly dangling from his hands.

Frozen on the steps -- it is where the consort still stands -- her eyes glued to the figures moving in the rain. Mekhti takes on step forward, her hand dropping to her side once again, disappearing into the folds of her cloak -- but then she stops. For, after all, what good can she do?

As the fangs sink into his left shoulder, Sukhvir cries out with shock. He drops his sword, ready to seize the snake; the now-free right hand reaches over to seize the snake by the neck before it can get free, hoping that he can catch it just beneath the head so that it cannot bite him again, or anyone else for that matter. When the Agni-Haidar's blow lands, driving those incredibly sharp fangs deeper into his shoulder, Sukhvir howls in agony as yet more poison is released, but he keeps reaching for the snake before it can escape him and go for its intended prey. He knows it must be done swiftly, before it is too late...

The cobra's tail whips around, lashing frantically, coiling and uncoiling while it struggles to free itself. But Sukhvir managed to seize it behind the head, and it can't crane around to bite him again. The hood flares wider and those tiny, gleaming eyes blaze with thwarted fury. The blow from the Agni-Haidar's pommel helped daze the creature, too, and so for the moment -- dangerous as the serpent might be -- its threat is minimized.

A few more steps forward, and Mekhti offers what minute help she can. She's not quite so brave as to approach those struggling with the hooded viper -- keeping a distance of quite a few paces. There is one thing she knows about snakes -- heat gives them energy -- and they become complacent in the cold. Her eyes remains locked on the struggling figures, eldritch flames dancing in the depth's of the young woman's gaze.

A sensation of cooling surrounds those struggling with the snake -- as if the air weren't already cold enough. But from cold -- it gets colder -- whatever minute hint of heat the flames in the area had left fading completely. And across the courtyard -- a bead of sweat forms on the brow of the consort -- sliding down her cheek with agonizing slowness.

The Healer which always accompanies the Queen-Maharani quickly steps forward to grab Sukhvir from behind. At the same time, the Agni-Haidar with the cloak tries to scoop the cobra into the folds of cloth. Another Agni-Haidar brings out rope from under his cloak. Initially brought with the intent of tying up the prospective prisoner, it now has another purpose. The ring of fire which burns merrily on the flagstones begins to subside and as its illumination diminishes, things become more difficult to see.

Sukhvir has a cobra. But he has no idea what to do with it now that he has one. His other hand moves to join the first and hang on to the snake for all it is worth - he knows, somehow, that if the snake gets loose he will be dead. He's not entirely sure why, though, and his bemusement is reflected in an expression of slight puzzlement. One thing he does know, though, is that his stomach doesn't like him any more. He turns, snake in hands, bends over and vomits onto the cobbles.

The snake is growing more sluggish by the second. It had whipped and thrashed violently in Sukhvir's grip at first, but its energy is seeping away, and the diminishing warmth does not help. The cobra had one chance to strike, and it took the risk. It failed. Now the fight is seeping out of it, and it could be as much a sense of defeat as exhaustion and depleted energy. It hisses as the Queen's guards attempt to bunch it within the cloak, but with Sukhvir still holding its head, there isn't much more it can do.

Another bead of sweat -- before Mekhti turns away, flames dancing in her eyes, still. She is ever quiet -- hopefully not even noticed, as her steps carry her on the outside perimeter of the cobblestones, zoris making only soft slushing sounds in the layer of muddy dust. She moves towards the smaller courtyard, surrounding the fountain, and hidden by the cypress trees.

One Agni-Haidar pries Sukhvir's fingers off the cobra while the Healer begins to work his magic on the unfortunate kshatri. The cobra is scooped into the cloak by the Agni-Haidar and the rope is wrapped at the nexus of the folds, turning the cloak into a proper sack. Another red-robed Atarvani comes forward with a look of concentration on his face, ready to take the sack from the Agni-Haidar.

Wet and sopping from the rain, her naraki having watched the scene frozen in shock, Thalia's damp body is allowed once again to contact the earth as the dangerous heretic and traitor is contained. She begins to move forward, to assure herself that Sukhvir will not die for his actions.

At the Healer's touch, Sukhvir shudders deeply and falls forward from his already-bent position, sprawling limply in the unpleasant pool he already created. Uncaring, unnoticing, he lies there, apparently immobile.

The snake is contained, and while the makeshift sack shifts and jerks from time to time, the creature within doesn't put up much of a fight. Its energy depleted by the combined efforts of Sukhvir, the Agni-Haidar, Atarvani, and Mekhti, it eventually subsides, and lies dormant in the sack... perhaps anticipating some opportunity to free itself or strike again. For now, though, it will wait.

FIN  

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