|
|
Post by Retrograde on Mar 9, 2018 23:32:35 GMT
The interior of the hovel was dark and smoky, thick with the scent of burning sage. All doors and windows had been firmly sealed shut to prevent any unwanted visitors and peelers trying to see what went on inside. The walls were plastered with star charts and holy scripture proclaiming the glory of the World That Will Be, invoking the power of the Ten Heavenly Masters and their servants.
Zokh remained unimpressed, arms folded. His friends had told him that the Priestess Uzu was a great diviner, and could aid him in his business ventures, but her style did not match with the true cult, reminding him instead of a strange mix of the demon-priests of the North, the shamans of the south and somethijg entirely alien to him. She dressed strangely, wearing priestly vestments that, while a colourful mix of reds, blues and greens in block patterns, was clearly made from cheap materials and was cut in a way that was clearly meant to attract the interest of the base and stupid. Worse yet was that she was clearly foreign - her skin was dusky like his, but her face had the structure of a Rjillund and her hair was the colour of freshly forged brass. Her eyes were like those of a Qetarqe, pale and haunting. He was beginning to think he had been sent to some sort of foreign witch.
Uzu gently beat a drum, singing a prayer, before she set it down and grasped Zokh's hand tightly. The countless charms wrapped around her forearm and up to her elbow clacked together. "My friend," she said in the most peasant-like dialect of Phere he had ever heard. "Do you know that Heaven watches us and has a plan?"
Zokh rolled his eyes. "I have been told as much, yes."
She smiled, gently tracing a finger from his palm to his wrist. Despite his annoyance, Zokh could not help but shiver. Uzu leaned in, bringing her face close to his. "Some might say that the plans of Heaven are not for us to know. They are wrong. Their plans are written everywhere." She turned his palm to face him. "Look. These lines on your palm are like a map." She brought her her hand to the lowest line that traveled just above his thumb.
"This is your life line. It says that you will live a long life. But you are not here for me to tell you that... No, this is about business. Ah, yes, here is your money line. It is healthy and even... Except... There is uncertainty here. A great choice is before you."
Zokh blinked, and nodded. Something has changed in her tone, something that made this more believable. "...Yes. I must decide whether I am to partner with my brother or my son-in-law."
She nodded. "Your brother is kind, and he has been with you thick and thin. He is reliable. Yet... You are unsure because he is unambitious, uncreative, yes?"
Zokh nodded. "Your line also tells me you love your daughter very much, your family line is quite strong on your hand. Now, what Heaven is telling me, what it wants you to know, is that for her to be happy, you must set up a strong future for her. Yes, your son-in-law has less experience, but he is creative and quick, and will see your daughter made a wealthy woman."
Zokh looked down at his palm. "Oh." He said softly. "But Arsac..."
"Will forgive you. This is the father of your grandchildren. He will see your business expand and your family grow wealthy. Arsac will merely see it survive as it is."
Zokh nodded slowly. "I see. You have helped me a lot here. I... Think I must go and talk with my family. Please, take this payment." He said, fishing coins from his pocket.
Uzu shook her head. "Helping you is all the payment I need." Besides, she thought, his son-in-law had already paid her quite handsomely. "Now, please, go with faith that Heaven has revealed its plan to you."
Zokh nodded, and exited, unlocking the door and walking out into the street. Uzu waited for a moment, before peeking her head out of the door. "Now, who next seeks Uzu's wisdom?" She frowned as she realized who was in front of her door.
"Oh. Maz... PISS OFF, I ALREADY PAID THE PROTECTION MONEY THREE DAYS AGO!"
|
|
|
|
Post by Zoilus on Mar 10, 2018 0:17:23 GMT
Mazares sighed, watching another poor fool wander away from Uzu's hut. This was a woman with talent, unfortunately for her, she had rather too much for his bosses to comfortably tolerate. When she opened her door and saw him, he gave her his trademark smile, and she gave him her trademark shouting in return. It really was going to be one of those days. Of course.
Slipping around her into her house, he plopped down on her most comfortable chair. "Uzu, you have to pay the fee and follow the rules. Do you know who that fellow you just enlightened was? What his business actually is? I'll give you hint:" and, looking at her murals, pointed out one of the grand birds. "The Vulture is not interested in working with a kid from Istakh, especially when he works for the Dagger of Arsam, hmm?" Maz shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Fixing this is going to be expensive, and for the part you played, you will have to help mitigate that expense."
He gave Uzu a pitying look. "Uze, you know I don't like doing this, but the bosses want you. People have a misplaced trust in you, and they want to write the script and set up the appointments. You'd get a better house, reliable appointments, real protection, but you've heard all this before." He shook his head.
"The next time you give the wrong advice to the wrong person, they aren't going to send me."
|
|
|
|
Post by Retrograde on Mar 10, 2018 0:38:25 GMT
Uzu glared as Mazares made his way into her home. The place was small enough without unwanted guests inside, being only one room. She watched him plant his bottom down in her most favourite chair, and she felt herself twitch. "Oh, yes, sure, do that. Next time you will find many, many needles in the cushion." She hissed, and then moved herself over to her hearth, picking up her wooden spoon from the pot she kept and began to thwap Mazares in the ribs. Not enough to do any permanent damage, but enough to sting a little.
"Move, move, move," she said, punctuating every word with a whack. Then, she gestured over to a rickety chair, full of splinters and the seat having bottomed out long, long ago. "You get to sit in there. That's the jackass chair. That's where you sit."
She then moved back to the hearth, retrieving two clay bowls and filling each with the eternal stew she had been cooking for the past... well, too long for her to remember. But there was something special, this time. She had finally gotten enough money spare to acquire some meat. It was a cow's head, though she had removed the skull the other day, leaving only the meat behind. Also there were the parsnips from last week, and the turnips from the night before. She also threw a haphazard handful of spices in every so often. The taste of cinnamon seemed to be strongest. She set the bowl in front of where Mazares was supposed to be sitting if he hand any sense in him. She also freed up some flat bread from a stack she kept in a corner, tearing it up and serving it in a pile of chunks.
"I am a heretic, Mazares, I can't see why they'd want me of all people."
She paused, and then she squinted.
"This isn't about Gron, is it? Because I am not interested in getting married and if he can't accept that then that is his problem."
|
|
|
|
Post by Zoilus on Mar 10, 2018 1:00:30 GMT
Mazares moved to the chair Uze had pointed out with great, affected effort, and gave a pained look to the soup she'd presented him. There was a difference in poverty and desperation, but there was also a difference politeness and rudeness. He put a tentative spoonful in his mouth, and swallowed the chunks and bits without chewing. He licked his lips, "Uze, you could've been a chef. Saved us all some trouble, hmm?"
"Look, you can be a heretic all you like as long as you aren't converting people. Most of us just think you're just a witch, anyway, no offense. They want you because you're convincing, and unlike the priests, actually tell people what they want to hear for cheap. But you've heard this before too, no?" He took another slurp of soup. "I'm not going make you pray to any one of these poor fellows," he waved at ceiling, "for answers. Truth is, it is Gron."
"That sad, sad man personally sends me on all these trips, schemes to get you in his employ...ever since he came in for a fortune telling, he's been besotted. Problem now is, his uncle," he pointed at the bird again, "has noticed. He thinks you're an oracle, and's he'd love to have that gift in his family. But, somehow, despite your pension for unprovoked violence, I'm thinking you're not interested in marrying into a crime family?"
"However," he gave her an enigmatic smirk, "perhaps one crime could be your way out?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Retrograde on Mar 10, 2018 1:14:29 GMT
Uzu sighed as Mazares spoke. It figured that she would eventually find herself in this position. Her own heritage made her something exotic and the crime lords of Pherai seemed to love nothing more than exotic wives who made them look more powerful. Wives they could show off. She did not know why the subculture developed as it did, though she did not really care about it beyond the fact that it made her a target, anyway.
"First thing's first, he thinks I am an oracle because I am an oracle. Your Phere word for 'oracle' comes from the Qetarqe word for priestess, and they are my people's cousins. We can divine the great plan by reading the Mysteries and watching the stars and in many other ways."
She wagged her finger at him. "But I'm guessing you are making an offer. So, what is it?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Zoilus on Mar 10, 2018 1:39:17 GMT
Mazares gave a short laugh, "You are an oracle! I'd be really impressed if you told me what I was about to offer, but I'm not waiting up for that."
Mazares pulled a piece of parchment out of his pack, and laid it on the table. "Truth is, working for the Vulture has a few perks, the most important of which is being close enough to listen to what all his flunkies are gossiping about, and yesterday, I heard something extraordinary. A caravan is coming through town tomorrow, and it supposedly belongs to one of the other families. Thing is, that's actually a lie: they're Trevastines, they're hiding something valuable, and for a caravan, it's pretty small, two or three people tops." Mazares started rapidly looking around the room, and marking down locations on the parchment, which was a map of Pherai.
"So here's the proposal: we follow them outside of town, nick whatever they're carrying, head over to a fence I know in Istakh, and then buy our way to new lives in the north." He drew lines on the map representing every action. "We can't stay in Pherai forever, and opportunities like this don't come every day. Besides, they're just Trevastines!"
|
|
|
|
Post by Retrograde on Mar 10, 2018 1:54:04 GMT
Uzu stared down at the map, watching Mazares scrawl on it. She considered what she was being offered: A chance to finally get out of the life she had found herself in. Her eyes wandered over to the floorboards where she hid the locked box that held all her savings. Even after 7 years as a woman grown, she had not yet saved enough to buy a passage on a ship to get out of the Seven Cities and off to one of the other Ettin cities where she could finally found her temple and begin to preach the word of her faith. She was still a young woman now, but that would not last forever. This seemed like a chance... But it was dangerous.
"Trevastines..." she said quietly. She did not share the unceasing hatred of the northerners that others of the Seven Cities had. Indeed, Urtuz was one of the Ten Heavenly Masters, along with the Rog. Yet, just because she shared a master with them did not mean that they were allies, either. The northerners foolishly worshiped one divinity to the exclusion of all others, mistakenly condemning themselves to eternal reincarnation through their ignorance of the Mysteries. That made them dangerous.
She rubbed her chin, causing the charms on her forearm to clack. Then she leaned back in her chair, taking a piece of bread and chewing on it. She eyed Mazares warily. He was a clever man, to be sure. He was also just as desperate as her, which meant that he could make foolish mistakes.
Her eyes moved back to the floorboards, and she sighed.
"Very well," she said cautiously. "I will need time to ask for intercession from the Heavens." She stared at him. "You will have to be here too."
|
|
|
|
Post by Zoilus on Mar 10, 2018 2:18:36 GMT
She had to pray. Of course. Did he really need to be here for that? They had a limited timetable here, and there was so much else he could be doing...but she was the one he'd trusted with this. Returning the favor was the least he could do.
"Ok, fine, I can deal with that. How long will it take, and I will I need to do anything? I honestly never know with your rituals." Just like the wailing priests at the temples of the Magi, this kind of thing could take minutes or hours, and was just another reason he needed to escape the Seven Cities. If they pulled this off, he could go anywhere, be anything but a slave-born thug. A new life...or death. Something worth praying to the gods for, if anything was.
Mazares pulled a small talisman from his pocket, a good luck charm more than anything devotional...but Arsam, Lord of Luck's beady little eye seemed to have a twinkle today. "Uze, maybe this can help?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Retrograde on Mar 10, 2018 21:06:25 GMT
Uzu looked at the charm, taking it. "This is good, a charm from one of the Heavenly Servants will be useful, but I need to be able to read the stars to ascertain which Master is in ascendancy. Come back tonight, two hours after sundown." Gently, she waved him off, retreating back into her home and closing the door behind her without regards to his objections. After devouring some stew, she got to work.
The first then she did was wash herself before going to free a giant leather bound tome from its hiding spot under the floorboards, next to her savings chest. She unwrapped the silk sheet she covered it in, and then gently kissed the front cover before saying a small prayer. When one was handling the Mysteries, reverence was key.
She opened up the the Mysteries, turning to the Book of the Angel Shasha, who revealed the faith to her ancestor, Sikender. There she found the Prayer of Divination, and the holy symbols associated with it. She grabbed a mortar and pestle, filling it with linseed oil and dried red berries, before grinding it together to form a paint. She applied it to her face, and then, stripping off her upper layer, over her heart. She would wait to let the paint dry before she redressed and headed out into the town, wearing a veil to obscure her face.
She let the congregation know, in their usual method, that a service was to be performed that night. Numbering 14 people in total, the Believers were a secretive lot that did everything in their power to hide their affiliation to the true faith. To preserve secrecy, they did not interact outside of services, and had devised quiet methods of interaction that would not arouse suspicion lest the religious police descend upon them. Most were poor, two were even slaves. There used to be three slaves but one was found out. There was also a noblewoman, one unhappy with her marriage and looking for the promise of equality that the Ten Heavenly Masters promised was her due. She had stopped appearing at services lately, but since the community operated in such different circles, it was impossible to know why.
When night came, Uzu left a note on her door that would give Mazares an idea of where to find her. Her 'church' was a half buried hovel that had long been abandoned by its original owner, now left to stand alone in a field separate from the rest of the slums that stood upon a hill. The congregation was here, eyes open for the first sign of trouble but eager for the service to begin.
Uzu stood there, face now uncovered, waiting for Mazares' appearance before she entered into her hovel-church. She waited anxiously, clutching a staff upon which a steaming censer rested.
"Sacred One!" cried Jojo, a former Routais sailor who had been taken as a slave. He was bounding up the hill, moving as quickly as he could. "Someone is coming. He does not seem to be police."
Uzu sighed relief. "He is here then."
|
|
|
|
Post by Zoilus on Mar 10, 2018 21:56:49 GMT
Mazares had been sneaking around town ever since he left Uze's, trying to gather up supplies and be discrete about it. Rather hard to do, since he'd been assigned three more collection stops and if the cash didn't come in immediately...well, there consequences. Sadly, unlike Uze, the other marks didn't tend to take his visits quite as well, and that kind of difficulty took time he didn't have. As he heard their sob stories, Maz noted that wherever he escaped to, making a deal with the local mob would never be on the table.
Once he'd managed to get the collateral they'd owed out of them, he dropped by Gron's place. He gave the 'secret' knock, deposited the cash and goods with Gron's counter, and was admitted to his office, where Gron was eating, alone, the most succulent looking roast pig Mazares had seen in years. Through bites, Gron barked, "So? What'd she say?"
Smiling, Maz thought of the best way to lie for their last meeting, "She said she needed a day or two to pray over such a momentous choice, but also that she already knew what to expect: yours, she's believes, will be a blessed union. She told me that the next time I drop by, she'll come with me back here to start figuring things out with you."
Gron had stopped eating, but Mazares could see bits of meat stuck in his toothy smile. "Mazzy, I knew you were the man for this! When this happens, I'm telling my uncle: you're someone we can count on, someone we can trust. You're going places, Mazzy. You, me, my precious Uzu, all of us right to the top of the family! Here," he flung a bag at Mazares feet, "your pay for today, with a bonus." He winked, "Go out there and have some fun!"
"I shall, sir, I shall. I'll give you the full report tomorrow." Mazares had a real smile now. A bonus would go far.
Gron laughed, a rumbling, wet thing, "If you can remember it, Mazzy, it wasn't fun. Now get out."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mazares managed to pick up some supplies before making it out to the hovel Uze called a temple. He had disguises, daggers, some food, the essentials, and with the bonus, some nice bribing money too. Enough to make it to his fence in Istakh, with no questions, certainly. He looked around the delapidated building, "Hello? How, uh, do I get in?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Retrograde on Mar 10, 2018 22:19:23 GMT
Uzu blinked as she heard Mazares' voice from around the hovel, moving to go and talk to him. However, she found that she had been beaten to the punch by Pashmi, a woman who revealed very little about herself and yet was one of her most devoted followers.
Pashmi stared at Max, eyes wide. "Mazares?" she said quietly, confused. She had not really interacted with him once, but as a prostitute working under the Vulture she had been aware of him for some time. He had been responsible for bringing her boss, Brother Mamud, into the fold. She must have looked quite different than he would have expected, though, her figure wrapped in a modest cloak and dress compared to a usual attire, her hair swept back under a hood and her face free of makeup
"You are the friend the Sacred One spoke of?" There was intense confusion in her big brown eyes. She frowned.
Before Pashmi could say anymore, Uzu arrived. "Mazares! You are here. Excellent. The doorway to the hovel is actually through a tunnel in the hill, follow me."
She began walking, heading for a large mound of grass that she pulled back to reveal a simple wooden door. Freeing a key from her dress, she unlocked the door and stopped, walking into the tunnel and beckoning others to follow.
|
|
|
|
Post by Zoilus on Mar 10, 2018 22:41:41 GMT
Mazares was rather surprised to hear his name being spoken. Had he heard that voice somewhere before..?
But there was Uze, "The Sacred One? I feel like I'm missing out here! Perhaps I should start a cult too. Uh," he looked at the hooded woman, "no offense." As they silently made their way to the hill, Mazares felt the need to keep talking, "So, uh, you know me too? Uze talks about me a lot, I assume? How could she not? I've probably saved this little club more times than either of us can count, and all in the name of friendship."
And then the door opened. "You dig this yourself? If you can do that, I imagine what's ahead will be easy."
|
|
|
|
Post by Retrograde on Mar 10, 2018 23:15:21 GMT
Pashmi frowned at him. It made sense that he did not remember her, for she was quite low on the rung, but she could not help but feel a sort of prideful resentment that she was so beneath his notice. She tried to ignore the feeling, instead focused on the matter at hand.
"We run in similar circles," she said simply.
As for Uzu, she was working to keep the water in the censer from spilling while keeping the staff low enough to actually let her travel through the tunnel. She looked back at Mazares, shaking her head.
"I did not dig this tunnel, no. My father and his followers did. He lead the congregation before he was... Uhm... Boiled." She winced a little bit, but kept on.
They finally made their way into the temple through a jagged hole in the brickwork. The interior was illuminated by countless candles resting upon scavenged tables, their tallow running in rivulets down the tablecloth. The congregation sat in makeshift pews, eyes focused on the wooden altar in front of them, where a tome containing the Mysteries rested next to a goblet. Behind the altar was a mural depicting each of the Ten Heavenly Masters' symbols, arrayed in a circle. At the centre was the Garmash word for 'trascendence', written in their strange variation of the Magi's script.
The congregation looked to Mazares warily. Many were dressed simply, wearing only work clothes. Some stood out, however. One man, looking to be in his later years, wore the garb of a Qetarqe tribal champion, complete with crimson scarf, while a young woman sat next to him, wearing the finery of a noble. Her midriff was exposed, as was the style these days.
"This is my friend, good children. He will introduce himself to you now.
|
|
|
|
Post by Zoilus on Mar 10, 2018 23:32:20 GMT
Honestly, Mazares hadn't expected such an assortment of people here, and certainly not someone as noble as that young woman seemed to be. How was slightly different chanting worth all this risk? If someone had boiled his father (well, Mazares couldn't say he'd blame anyone for for cooking that old bastard), he certainly wouldn't kept on doing the same thing. These were the kinds of people the Tusk loved to drag out into city squares, for the masses to cheer at their executions while the priests gave their thundering sermons.
Why did they keep dangling themselves out, then?
Best to keep those thoughts for later: he had an introduction to make. "Greetings, friends of Uzu! I am Mazares, a fellow friend, and I am here tonight to help Uzu prepare for a better future, with the help of your- the gods!" he gestured to the murals. "They will rain their blessings down on us all, if your prayers are true! And how could they not be? Such a company assembled here could be nothing less than their work, nothing less than an assurance of their, ah, providence!" Yes! They'd eat that right up, Maz was sure.
It really was a shame his father had been so against his joining the priesthood. He could've been a Magi by now, absolutely.
|
|
|
|
Post by Grim on Mar 11, 2018 23:24:50 GMT
Shiva was surprised to see the roguish man enter into the chapel. She didn't remember ever hearing that mans name mentioned before, she was even a bit more skeptical that this man actually believed in any gods, let alone her own. The gods had created all equal so she would let the man speak even if he seemed to lack any charisma let alone that of Uru.
She kept her posture as she turned to face the man, listening to what he would have to say but not saying anything for the time being.
|
|
