His tired gaze - from passing endless bars -
has turned into a vacant stare which nothing holds.
To him there seem to be a thousand bars,
and out beyond these bars exists no world.
His supple gait, the smoothness of strong strides
that gently turn in ever smaller circles
perform a dance of strength, centered deep within
a will, stunned, but untamed, indomitable.
But sometimes the curtains of his eyelids part,
the pupils of his eyes dilate as images
of past encounters enter while through his limbs
a tension strains in silence
only to cease to be, to die within his heart.
("Panther" - Rainer Maria Rilke)
[Ra'tleihfi, ch'Rihan]
Teillh ir-Eilhaunn shifted the weight of the basket resting against her hip and stepped out of the way of yet another self-important hru'hfe and a flock of hfaiin trailing in the former's wake. There were definitive advantages to being just another pretty but all in all unremarkable face in the crowd, though on occasion it would have been nice to have others make way for her for a change.
Especially on market day when the always crowded streets were packed with Rihannsu trying to get to the fresh wares delivered before Eisn's golden light had even appeared at the horizon.
Early summer in the capitol. All around her good natured and less so complaints were uttered about the already rising heat but for the first time in years, Teillh felt the chill permeate her very bones.
Perhaps she should have risked wearing that wool underneath her dress. It wasn't as if the drab, formless garment didn't do an adequate job at hiding … pretty much everything.
She had to know. She had made it herself. Neglecting everything she knew about aesthetics and aiming simply to be as uninteresting as a Rihanha with admittedly charming amber eyes and shiny, dark brown hair that framed a youthful face could possibly be.
Her good employer had looked askance at the creation his best seamstress had decided to make of the cloth he had so generously gifted her after the fantastic success in becoming house Viaen's sole provider of festive couture, but he had indulged her droll little whims. Under the condition she would never, ever, appear like this in the store.
He was a good man.
Who else would have taken in a total stranger simply on the word of a good customer that this impoverished girl had an eye for pretty things and nimble fingers suited to turn rolls of formless fabric into garments every noble from here to the Outmarches would die to wear?
Rather than send the girl in her ragged clothing back out onto the street where she might have been forced to earn a living in a much less reputable way than working for a respected clothier, he had pointed at a chair in the far corner and … given her a chance.
And never once had he asked how a Galae officer came to appear in his store with a haunted looking woman in tow. Or why she seemed so intent to never draw male attention towards herself.
He was a good man, and Teillh worked twice as hard because of it.
They had warned her about this.
Cease to be vigilant, and you will forget who you are. Forget, and you become careless. Become careless … and you will die.
Never allow yourself to become emotionally attached. Never allow yourself to identify with the ones in whose midst you live, breathe, work, sleep.
And never, never, allow for guilt.
There had been times when Teillh had almost forgotten who they were.
A sleeper.
Now she knew why they called it that.
For it was only a matter of time before you fully descended into the dream that seemed so real the shock of waking left you disoriented … and afraid.
T'Sahik hated being afraid.
She nearly yelped when a careless elbow made her barrel into – oh, Elements, someone wearing a uniform. Someone who looked with genuine surprise at the grey clad little thing stammering apologies while his comrades made lewd comments.
'That's what happens when you're daydreaming instead of watching your steps.'
This would never have happened to … the other woman. The one she used to be. The one whose name to invoke would be her death.
The one whose name she was dying to shout at the leering soldiers before she broke their necks.
They had not told her you could lose your mind.
Praying to Elements whom T'Sahik would have called illogical superstition, Teillh realized she was shivering.
"A'rhea! Teillh!" a cheerful voice belonging to a young male the size of a Rigelian ox trumpeted over the crowd.
Velal. Good, faithful, innocent Velal.
She dared to glance up and to her infinite relief, saw the soldier take one good look at the approaching mass of pure muscle and shrug in a 'Oh, well. Too bad' gesture.
Like a Llurh racing out from under the Thrai's paw, she took the chance to fling herself at Velal who was positively stunned at this unexpected show of affection from the woman he had courted for months. Or tried to, anyways.
"I hoped you would be here today." His honest smile and the protective arm slung around her narrow waist were like balm on her raw emotions and then she realized with renewed shock that she had allowed herself to be … touched. While decidedly not in control of herself.
"Thlhom veherr'a. She meant no harm. Maybe the heat has gotten to her a bit."
The genuine concern in his voice was about the only thing that stopped Teillh from a hysterical laughing fit.
"Well, no wonder." The Sergeant seemed inclined to leave the matter be – too much trouble in this already sweltering heat and she was not all that pretty - but not before giving the pair standing before him a stern look of disapproval "Look how skinny she is. You really ought to see to it she eats better."
"I will."
A huff and a curt acknowledgement of Velal's polite bow later, the soldiers were off, presumably to find a cool drink and a shady spot from which to watch the proceedings.
"Father just made fresh sesketh and I saved some for you. I know how much you like them. Besides, I think the Colonel there just gave me an order."
"Ullhan. Not Colonel" It was about the only sentence Teillh managed.
"Oh, really. I didn't notice."
The small Rihanha sheltered under Velal's tall frame like a Shavokh nestling under her mother's mighty wing laughed, and if it sounded a bit nervous, no one would blame her.
But inside, that guilt she was not supposed to feel tore T'Sahik's heart to pieces.
His massive arms covered to the elbows in flour, Vrih i-Ra'tleihfi saw what had made his youngest son barrel out into the street without as much as a 'by your leave'.
Well, she was a nice girl. Hard working, too. And if Velal would get his way and feed her sweets to his heart's content, she might even develop some curves where other women usually had them. But he had been after her for Elements knew how long and apparently gotten nowhere.
As owner of the oldest and in his opinion by far best bakery in the district, Vrih felt he had a right to know what was going on.
"Teillh. Jolan'tru, girl." Well, that was something new. Shy and quiet in a cute sort of way, that Vrih was used to from her. Arm in arm with his son, and even allowing him to carry her basket … ah, as long as he was beaming like this ….. that cheerful face alone would sell flatbreads all by themselves.
"What can I do for you today?"
"Well, father …"
"Tsk. Was I speaking to you?"
Vrih cleaned his hands under a stream of blessedly cool water and noticed the girl had both retrieved her basket and gave the glasses standing ready for customers a pleading look.
"Where are your manners, Velal. Get the girl some water. And don't think I didn't notice the two sticks of sesketh you were hiding."
"Yes, father." His eartips flushing an interesting shade of green, the young man hurried off after throwing a reassuring glance at Teillh who still looked visibly shaken but squared her shoulders in an adorable attempt at bravery.
"Vrih." Summoning whatever shred of dignity she might have left, she offered the elder a flawless greeting. "We are expecting important customers tonight and shall require your services."
"When are old Ndeian's customers not important. If one believed his boasting, the entire senate and the Shiar'Fvillha herself are climbing over each other to buy his … oh, don't give me that look, girl. I wouldn't have you talk badly about my old friend and you know it. But I'm glad to see you would defend him, with a well placed basket to my head nonetheless."
This time it was Teillh whose decidedly streamlined and elegant ears suddenly displayed a startling emerald.
Ah, those young people.
"So, the usual buffet? I'd recommend the feiiha today, it has turned out exceptionally well."
There is a shift in the reef when a shark enters the tranquil waters.
Even swimming leisurely in a 'I'm not hungry but if I shall decide I am, you will be the first to know' fashion, it becomes the focal point of nervous energy. Creatures of all shapes attempt to go about their lives as nonchalantly as possible while trying very hard indeed to not look like lunch. Or anything vaguely reminiscent of things that could accidentally be mistaken for food.
It was Teillh's overwrought senses that played a trick on her, she was certain. Because everything about the man strolling down the street with an insouciant grace that practically grabbed you by the collar and screamed 'officer' was the perfect image of a noble-born. One whose house had fallen on hard times, or perhaps had never been really wealthy.
Too many of those younger sons without any wealth but the clothes on their backs to their high sounding names wandered the streets of the capital whenever their ships or a reassignment brought them here.
Nothing, nothing at all about this tall, lean male who wore a cape as if he had been born with it said 'thaessu'. Nothing but the hair standing up at the back of Teillh's neck.
"Oh, Air and Fire."
Her murmured words seemed to greatly amuse the newcomer – why oh why did he have to be interested in pastries of all things? – and he flashed a smile that somehow summoned the image of sun-scorched deserts and great, deadly felines dozing on heated rocks in the Rihanha's mind.
Illogical.
Illogical.
Will you get a grip.
hru'hfe – Head of Household, senior servant
hfai – (bond-)servant
a'rhea – Dear heart, term of endearment
sesketh – sugary confection twisted on a spice stick
