(OOC) Mon Apr 20 1998 02:59 -->

After a two day journey up from Safar, the guests of the Savanites finally made it to the City. Due to waterfalls, rapids and other hazards, this involved a bit of getting off of the ship, travelling by wagon along rocky paths, and then getting onto another boat waiting past the next obstacle. It is not hard to see why someone had not simply rowed up the river some years before to discover the City by accident.

Now, Envoy has been allowed to roam free. Since she wasn't on the official guest list, she hasn't had attendants chasing after her, and, unlike the guests, was not assigned any quarters. However, someone must have pulled some strings, as before the first nightfall, she was given the use of a small stone 'hut', too small to really be practical for permanent dwelling, but large enough to install the basic amenities for a visitor from afar.

The morning finds her in the simply-furnished dwelling-place. There is no glass for the windows, but pests don't seem to be so much of a problem here in the canyon. Perhaps pest control is not beneath the concerns of the Twelve-times-Twelve.

Envoy wakes up full of energy. What to look at first, now that all of the wild vegetation has been cleared from the buildings? She quickly dresses in her plain but sturdy clothes, and goes outside to see what's happening in the City.

Outside, the canyon is still shadowed on this side, though the opposite side is bathed in light. She can clearly see the ledge where the campsite was for Lord Titus haut Mikide's expedition to the City so long ago.

Now, it is home to a number of stone and clay and brick buildings. Most of them are fairly dull and plain, really, from the exterior. The Imperial City boasts no gilded roofs or skyscraping towers – just a few ruinous monuments here and there bearing testament to a past is from a history so many have forgotten … save for over a hundred citizens of certain special prestige.

Savanite citizens move back and forth, going about daily errands. Water has to be carried up from the river. Life in the City is inconvenient in many ways for those used to amenities in Rephidim. Freedom is rarely convenient. Still, there are signs of construction all around – of buildings, of wells … and possibly some sort of attempt at plumbing, perhaps meant to eventually involve some sort of magical assistance to work.

The trills of Creens can be heard … but far more musical than random calls would suggest. Upon listening more closely, the sounds are from a flute of some sort, made to sound like the jungle creatures … though, granted, there are plenty of Creens around to contribute their own 'music' as well. One peeks down from its perch on the roof just above Envoy's head. "*treeeeeee!*"

Envoy smiles up at the winged reptile and trills back at it, then decides to find the source of the music.

It doesn't take terribly long to find a 'creen' player sitting under the eaves of his cottage … an old Savanite whose legs look incapable of managing the sprinting speed associated with the cheetahs. He is adorned in simple but vibrantly-dyed drapes of rough cloth, decorated with a necklace of feathers. Across the street from him, another musician – much younger, and in the garb of a Rephidimite worker slave, but with a similar feather necklace – plays accompaniment on his own instrument.

Envoy's smile grows wider. Bards! She sits down nearby, and sings along like a Creen herself. No sense in talking to them yet while their hands are busy.

Other sounds of music can be heard from elsewhere in this "block" (or, more appropriately, "ledge") of the city. Citizens go back and forth, tending to what look like ordinary chores, but somehow there's an atmosphere as if some sort of party were going on.

A Rokuga walks past, carrying a heavy-looking crate. In fact, there are a few other reptiloids to be seen on occasion, and some other species. However, they are by far in the minority, and don't appear to be in positions of higher status.

The Aeolun sits and sings, enjoying the morning hustle and bustle of the City. It's especially refreshing to hear music, but none of the noise of chattering multitudes.

Eventually, the elderly musician next to Envoy ceases playing, setting down his Creen-flute, and helping himself to a drink from a leather waterskin. He wipes his brow, although it hasn't really gotten all that warm yet. The other musicians keep playing. Come to think of it, the Creens seemed to be singing all night, though inobtrusively enough so as not to disturb sleep any more than the usual sounds of the jungle.

Envoy signs to the elder bard, "You play very well. Have you always done this?"

The elderly cheetah makes no sign of noticing Envoy's hands. He stares off into space, focusing on nothing, but then he jolts at the faint sound of a rustle of Envoy's attire and turns, looking at a space above the Aeolun's head, reaching out with one hand.

Realizing the cheetah must be blind, Envoy reaches out with her own hand.

Envoy asks quietly, "Can you hear me? Do you understand my speech?"

The elder nods, and takes Envoy's hand. Slowly, he folds her fingers into the sign for "Greetings."

Envoy smiles, "Greetings! I am Envoy of… I'm an Exile. What is your name?"

The elder moves Envoy's fingers again, to form the signs of "Old Flute." He smiles, showing that he has most of his teeth left.

Envoy grins at the name. "Are you from Storm-Hand's tribe? How do you like life in the City?"

Old Flute shakes his head at the first question, then fold-signs, "Content."

Envoy says, "It's good to be content. Do others talk to you by folding your hands? Have you always been blind? Did you make your own flute?""

The cheetah smiles. His head nods, then he shakes his head, then he nods again.

Envoy grins, and tries her hand, so to speak, at hand-fold talking. "Is the young one your student?" she carefully folds into Old Flute's hands.

Old Flute shakes his head, then offers Envoy a swig of his waterskin. It smells like there's some berry juice in there, a weak wine.

Envoy takes a polite sip, then hands the skin back. "Are you looking forward to the Coronation ceremony?" she asks aloud.

The old Savanite stoppers the flask and sets it down, then finds Envoy's hands to sign, "Coronation is now."

Envoy blinks. "Right now? We're missing it?!"

The old cheetah's ears wiggle, and he grins … then picks up his 'flute' again, and takes a reed from a cup of water beside him and puts it in the mouthpiece. He licks his lips, then resumes playing.

Envoy blinks three times, then says, "Oh, you were joking with me, weren't you?"

Old Flute, alas, seems to be quite busy with his flute-playing. Perhaps it's a bad point in the song for him to stop and explain, but his ears wiggle again.

Envoy hmms. Old people must like to tease younger ones, she decides. Just in case though, she gets up and moves on towards the location of the old palace, where she assumes the Coronation Ceremony will take place.

There seems to be less traffic on the winding avenue now. Several Savanites are still visible, doing work on their dwelling-places, or working pottery outside. Across the street and a few steps down, another Savanite – old, but not as old as Old Flute – is surrounded by cubs, and is signing to them some sort of tale. Several of the cubs are busily weaving jungle blossoms together, keeping their hands busy from interrupting the story-teller with their hand-motions.

Ahead and literally up the street, the way can be seen that leads past the "procession of hands" that veers off far ahead and to the left to the pyramid where the "boulder" fell during the Mikide expedition. Far ahead and to the right, there is a slope, with steps made of several natural ledges that leads down to the waters … a sloping area that was the site of Jynx's accident where he first met Setting-Sun and First-Dawn, the clothes-washing sisters … and where he significantly changed Jezebel's coif.

Being a child herself still, Envoy pauses to watch the story. There aren't any records of Savanite history or fables at the Bard's Guild, after all.

The Savanite storyteller (the Savanite signs more literally suggest 'story weaver') moves his hands in precise, fluid movements, an art that is to Savanite sign what poetic speech and rhyme might be in spoken tongues. It is in the middle of a tale, so much is missed, but he seems to be narrating the story of a young Savanite princess with eyes of green, who was the last surviving member of the royal family from the days of the last Priest-King.

Envoy sits down behind one of the cubs, and watches in fascination.

From his signs, a great catastrophe is hinted at – but must have been described earlier in the story – that resulted in the destruction of the City. The young Princess, Emerald-Eyes, was forced to flee, hidden away by monks in a monastery which still stands up on the cliff – and he breaks from his signs to point up at the very spot. Once it was covered by dense vegetation, but a stone structure can be indeed seen there, accessible only by a treacherous climb up a winding zigzagging and quite narrow path up the cliff face … or going a roundabout route through the jungle.

(That must be the secret place Kaela got her Princess clothes from,) the Exile thinks to herself, looking up at the structure. It would have been completely hidden during the time of Titus' expedition.

As the story unfolds, the Princess was forced to hide her heritage to the best of her ability, which meant that she risked danger by anyone so much as seeing her eyes. The greatest mages of the Empire had been destroyed … in an empire which depended upon magic as its strength. The lesser mages and governors fell to squabbling amongst themselves over power, even to the point of wishing to eradicate all challengers – including a surviving princess kitten rumored to have escaped. The monks gave their lives so that she could flee, and many others paid dearly and sacrificially to aid the kitten as well … all of them showing their loyalty to the dead Priest-King, to the traditions he represented … and to the hope of a brighter future ahead.

Envoy wonders if this tale could be made into an Opera. There would have to be a chorus of course, to tell the tale aloud for people that don't know sign…

While there are many negative turns to the story, and reminders that this kitten was forced to live a life avoiding threats that would cause most to simply curl up and weep, at last the heroine is reunited with a young acolyte who had served as an apprentice to the Twelve-Times-Twelve and had assisted her during her first escape. As the story ends, they, now having grown up and survived many adventures, fall in love, and gather together several dispersed Savanites, forming a tribe in the wilderness – he the chieftain, and she a priest-shamaness, keeping the traditions in hopes that prophesy might one day be fulfilled with the coming of the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, another Emerald-Eyes, who would awaken the old legends, and bring new hope to the Savanite peoples for freedom from their shackles.

Envoy smiles! The prophecy came true after all, and she was there to see it!

(Except that it was Third-Eye who woke the Twelve Times Twelve, but prophecy isn't meant to be totally accurate,) Envoy thinks.

There is a shrill call from down the street, and the jingling of bells – metal bells, by the sound, something not often heard even in Rephidim. The cubs turn to look down the street, where it looks as if there is some sort of procession coming along – a canopied litter borne by strong-backed Savanites, surrounded by musicians and fan-wavers and girls tossing blue petals from wicker baskets that they carry.

Envoy blinks at the procession. Who would ride in something like that? It reminds her of the funeral carriage of the Captain Astromancer.

The passenger on the litter would appear to be quite alive, even though she does not move much. A female cheetah sits on the litter, adorned in robes of white, trimmed with designs in rainbow colors that suggest the plumage of Creens – and decorative touches upon the litter and her costume further this pattern. The features of the cheetah are obscured in the shadow of the canopy, but she slowly and almost wearily looks out at those she passes, as the street clears to make way for the procession. The Creen-flutists continue playing the whole time, in a song that echoes across what might be the whole city from the sound of it.

Envoy waves to the shadowed dignitary, assuming it to be Creen-Song. The Third-Eye she remembers would never let Savanites carry her around like that.

As the litter approaches, Envoy's guess proves to be correct. Indeed, it is Creen-Song, mother of seven princesses. She doesn't exactly look like she is basking in the adoration of the citizenry. After all, being born a slave does not make one accustomed to such accolades. But she bears a certain regal dignity nonetheless, even at her age … and looks to be considerably more healthy than when she was at death's door, subjected to a strange paralyzing sickness, attributed to a curse of ancient origin, tied to the last Priest-King's fate of stone.

Envoy bounces and calls out, "Creen-Song! Creen-Song!" If only Latania could see her former patient now!

Creen-Song has a momentary look of alarm, as she hears her name called out – far from a normal occurrence in this city, of course – but she smiles as her litter passes Envoy, and subtly raises a hand to make a quick little wave at the Aeolun. Then, the litter lumbers on by.

A thin figure watches the procession from a doorway, cloaked and robed in gray. The face in the cowl is covered by a long wooden mask. It's varnished smooth, and the only features are a pair of eyeholes curved upward into crescents, as if the eyes were full of mirth. A few feathers dangle from the left edge of the mask, green, black, and tan. At the outcry, the figure turns its head to look at Envoy.

The Exile dances about and giggles as the litter passes, surprised at how happy she feels to see the older Savanite in good health. Proof that it was worth all of the trouble it caused Envoy afterwards, perhaps.

The litter heads down the street and turns toward a bridge that leads across the canyon, rather than continuing the Palace. It would seem that this procession is taking a very roundabout path through the city.

Finally calming down, Envoy picks up one of the blue flowerpetals littering the street and tries to identify it.

The name of the flower is not known to Envoy, but it seems to be an ordinary jungle flower, one which grows in abundance down by the riverbanks.

"Shards of the River," hisses the dun-clad figure, now standing in the street where the procession passed. The voice is hollow coming from behind the mask, but sounds relatively masculine. He stoops to pick up one of the petals as well, continuing, "At least, that's the relative translation for Standard. It could come across as 'Hands of the River' too."

Envoy nearly jumps at the voice, and turns to face the masked pedestrian. "Hello," she says.

"Good day, Envoy. How are you faring?" hisses the individual, turning the petal over in one gloved paw. "You seem excited by this coronation business."

"I'm… faring well, I suppose," Envoy says. "You know me?"

"I do indeed, and I must say, I was rather surprised to hear about your presence," hisses the odd fellow, gathering his robes around himself. One would think he'd be pretty hot in that get-up, but he doesn't seem bothered. "I don't know why you're here… but you seem to be harmless enough in this place."

Envoy blinks three times. "Harmless? I helped to defeat the old Priest King. Who are you? I thought the Nagai Empire had officially censured this event?"

The gray figure waves a paw dismissively. "A rampaging forest hog can't do much damage in the plains, let's just put it that way. I'm not with the Empire; I'm with a visiting tribe."

Envoy frowns, and peers closer at the figure. "Visiting tribe? How do you know me?" The voice is familiar… but not in any specific way. She's heard lots of Nagai that sound like this.

The figure chortles to himself behind the already laughing mask. "You're hard to miss, Envoy. You tend to stick out wherever you go. It's not important that I know you. I just thought it'd be pleasant to speak to you without having to worry all the time for once."

Envoy says, "If you aren't worried, then why won't you tell me your name?"

"I'm relaxed, not brain-dead," replies the strange figure cheerfully. "For now, you can just call me Siltskin. Some of my friends do anyway, just as a jovial little nickname."

Envoy blinks. "Siltskin? You mean you look like rivermuck? Is that why you wear a mask?"

"Heh, heh! Only if I want to." Siltskin's tone of voice gives the impression of a grin. "But you didn't come here to jabber, did you? Are you still getting to know the City?"

Although the Creen music continues (with genuine Creen accompaniment here and there), the street has pretty much returned to normal. It's nowhere near the traffic of Rephidim, but the City of Hands has come a long way since the Mikide expedition.

Envoy nods, "At least, the parts that weren't exposed before. I already know where the dangerously secret stuff is that would alter the balance of power for the entire world. I was wondering if there was a bakery though."

The music continues, as before … but it sounds slightly different now. There are a few more instruments that have joined in, that sound decidedly unlike Creen-flutes. To Envoy's ears, one sounds reminiscent of an alien instrument known as an 'electric guitar'. But, of course, such devices simply wouldn't work down here on the surface, let alone in the remote City of Hands.

"No wonder you're an entertainer! You can tell the best jokes, and keep a perfectly straight face," The odd gray person rubs the back of his head. "A bakery, hmm?" While he thinks, Siltskin turns his head to try to see where the music is coming from.

Envoy looks as well, "Maybe it's the Cobalt Lancers?"

A flash of cobalt blue alerts Siltskin to another approaching procession, far behind the first. Several large Templars are walking down the street, playing in tune with the Creen-song in their own special way.

The percussion accompaniment has a distinctly Titanian feel to it.

It just doesn't QUITE fit for some reason…

Envoy bounces on her heels! "I've always wanted to see them perform!" She runs to get a good spot at the edge of the street.

Siltskin twitches slightly, and hurries off to the side of the street as well. Probably just politely making way for the Templars, if a little more quickly than necessary.

More flashes of light come from the oncoming procession, these being reflections of sunlight off of bare steel – or some other and perhaps more precious metal alloy. Five armored Titanians with alien instruments march down the street, evenly spaced apart in an 'X' formation, with five white-armored felines with capes of magenta that weave and twirl about them, each one spinning two metal blades in synchronized patterns. It's another show for the citizenry, and again work comes to a halt as the performance makes its way past.

"I'd like to visit Titania someday," Envoy confides to her masked companion.

The cloaked individual tilts his head to one side. "I don't know… I hear it's an awfully… loud place. If this bunch is any indication, I can believe them."

Envoy points to the Magenta Lancers and their swords. "I have a friend that was targeted for death by a Magenta Lancer once! The Champion kicked her out though, for trying to kill him."

A cheetah cub bounces up and down as she sees the oncoming group, her hands holding a bouquet of red wildflowers. She dashes out into the street, skipping along after the performers, holding out her bouquet.

"I'd say that was conduct unbefitting of a lancer," agrees Siltskin. "Does this sort of thing happen to your friends often?"

Envoy smiles at the cub, and watches the flashing swords. "Maybe I should learn how to dance with swords like that. I think people would pay to see that, don't you, Siltskin?"

The gray figure's shoulders shake a little. "Heh, heh! Oh, indeed! Who wouldn't pay to see someone remove her own ears? In all seriousness, I'll bet it's harder than it looks."

Envoy blinks. "How much would they pay to see me remove my ears?"

"Not enough to put them back on." There's that grinning tone of voice again. Siltskin chose a good mask.

In the midst of the dance, one of the white-armored Katthas weaves her way out … then smoothly steps out of the dance. Her armor is more ornately designed than the other felines. Truth be told, if it were not for how easily recognized the Champion of Roses is to anyone who has spent time in Rephidim, it would be not even evident that the warrioress was a female, save for some stereotypical assumptions based upon her choice of ornamentation and grace in movement. She steps up to the kitten, stooping down to inspect the proffered red flowers. They are not roses – just wild-flowers – but the Champion of Roses bows and "sniffs" at the flowers (a vain act with that obscuring mask), then takes one and tucks it behind an armored ear, held in the curls of her dark hair. The kitten's ears wiggle gleefully.

Envoy says, "I watched the Champion of Roses and the Champion of Ashes mock-duel once, on the very night I fled Rephidim with Princess Emerald Eyes to come back here. It was quite a show!"

The Champion of Roses joins the dance once more, and the ten Knights Templar continue along the street, following the same route as Creen-Song's litter.

Envoy says, "They certainly seem to be enjoying themselves!"

Siltskin smiles behind his much more plain mask at the spectacle with the kitten. "They do at that. Maybe the lancers aren't as cold as I thought they were."

A gaunt cheetah jogs up through an alleyway between Envoy and Siltskin. He is dressed in Rephidimite work attire that has been adorned with tribal jewelry, including a large yellow feather dangling from behind one ear. He smiles and greets Siltskin in sign … but then blinks and suppresses an ear-twitch when he spies Envoy.

Envoy says, "Well, they're not on Rephidim now."

Envoy smiles to the Savanite, and signs, "Can I help you?" to him.

The cheetah suddenly ducks his head as if expecting a beating, and shakes his head in the negative. He then starts to turn as if to make haste in leaving.

"Feather! Are you enjoying the-… No, it's okay!" Siltskin steps forward to pat the Savanite on one shoulder. "Come on back, you're safe out here, remember?"

Envoy notices the wince, and asks Siltskin, "How long do you think it will take for the Temple to declare Savanite citizenship rights?"

"I… " The cloaked figure thinks for a moment, and then shrugs. "I really don't know. I don't know if they ever will. I certainly wouldn't be surprised if they never did." A hint of bitterness trails on the last few words.

Envoy says, "Oh, they will. It's just that they want to control the process, so as not to cause too drastic a change in Rephidim society."

The feather-wearing Savanite does not flee, turning back around, but he still keeps his head ducked a few subtle degrees, avoiding making eye contact with Envoy. Thanks to the mask, it's hard to tell whether or not he does the same with Siltskin.

The dun-robed person continues to pat his friend's shoulder reassuringly, hissing, "It's all right, Feather… you're a freeman, remember? I guess it takes some getting used to, huh? What have you been doing out here?"

Feather signs, "Seeing friends, mas – " He looks as if he's about to sign a correction, but then looks questioningly to Siltskin.

Dexterous digits on the robed fellow's gloved paws quickly sign out, "The old nickname is best around here."

Envoy makes a guess, "You're a Nagai that released his slaves, right Siltskin? Is that why you wear a mask, so other Nagai won't know who you are and cause trouble?" She knows this doesn't explain the 'I'm here with a tribe' statement Siltskin made earlier, but maybe his response will tell her more.

Feather looks askance to Siltskin again, then signs, "This is a friend, Siltskin?"

"Uhmm… " The gray individual regards Envoy momentarily, glancing between her and the Savanite. "More of an acquaintance, Feather. Ah, sure Envoy, if you like."

Envoy hmms, thinking of how the cloaked figure would know her personally though. An acquaintance? Someone from the Nagai magic institute? "Do you know a Shiga named Tugsley Pines?" Maybe he told a friend about the incident in the Missing Shekel…

Just then, another procession comes up the street. Some Naga-style rickshaws are coming up the street, though pulled by able-bodied Jingai rather than the bouncy Selonas that usually pull such craft at breakneck (and back) speeds through the Nagai Empire. Riding in each one is a cheetah dressed in finery, varying in degree of 'native' to 'city-refined' look, as well as age.

The figure's head tilts to one side, a sigh echoing behind the mask. "Questions, questions, questions… honestly, don't you ever take the time to simply enjoy things without picking them apart? Would you rather enjoy a sunny afternoon of Skip-Rock with the cublings, or chase them off with interrogation?"

Envoy says, "What's Skip-Rock?"

The female cheetahs in the wagon-drawn procession look much alike in many ways … as if they might all be sisters. As the wagons pass, the youngest of them smiles and waves to Envoy…

Siltskin starts to explain, but pauses to look at the rickshaws being drawn by.

Envoy blinks at the procession, and waves happily! "Look, it must be all of the other princesses!"

"I have to go see an old friend," the Exile tells Siltskin. "I'll try to find you again later!" With that, Envoy trots off after the procession.

The dun figure, scratches the back of his head. "Well, I haven't played Skip-Rock with them, no." He shrugs as his reply falls on deaf ears, then looks sideways a little at a nudge from Yellow Feather. Nodding, the two slip off in the commotion of the procession.