Brand and Vaeol - Chapter 34

From the Daylog of Vaeol-Zheieveil u’Zhasaele Zolaemaue be’Son

9. Ashelae, 24,535 - 12th Day in El, & Qabarat
Yesterday Brand and Vurn came to see us. The big cripple drove an Elvencraft litterfloat with gleeful eagerness while Brand tried laughingly to hang on. Yet the litterfloat bestood well for gifts we had gathered. Already they had the corpsicum. Yet we now gave them a nine-stridelength span of glowsilk enthreaded with glowblossoms and Shotalashu, eight handaxes of our smithcraft so that they may bear them as our shieldbrothers, and a bag of Son and Qabarat silvermarks, which though they hold little worth, may become good tokens of their worldfare hither. They took them gladly and loaded the float-sled. Then Vurn merrily drove away, dodging a lampshaft.
Brand asked to speak alone. The others listened and left, though Remaue eyed me.
He knelt and kissed my hand, which I forbore, even against my quiver. He then said he had so much to thank me for. Not only had I saved his troop’s lives, but we also had warded them along and had brought them to their way homeward. He swore he owes me a dearth he can never repay. Instead, he could only tell me his love and worship.
At his word I felt tears rise. I could say nothing but squeezed his hand.
Brand looked upward and beheld my tears, which I saw samely in his eyes. Anon he rose and lip-kissed me softly. Against my better deemship, I let him. I put hands on his arms and kissed him back. He drew me against his tall hard body, and mine burned in answer. When his lips fell upon my neck, I moaned. I needed not read his mind to betell his need, nor also his love and grief.
Then I squeezed tight to still him. Long breathtides we stood in each others’ arms; him shuddering with want, me shuddering with the strength to keep from yielding. Mildly I shoved him off. I gave him a last kiss and prayed him the Gods’ blessing. Then I bade him go.
I swerved and fled. I found Remaue and fell sobbingly in her arms.
Today’s morntide, we packed and girded. A steward led us to El's Gateyard, back where we had first come. There we stood as worship-wardens while the Aslanta neared the great Kaeonin Worldgate standing at the yard’s head, which leads to ~Qolaryon~ the Blue-Queen, Kaeonin as the Elves name it, unto the elder Elf-city Iadara, as so we are told. I ensured all our warriors stood in shiny, spotless harness, and weapons gleamy, in worship for our offworld brothers. While they marched forward, we sang a hymn to bless their wayfare. When they halted at the gate’s mouth, we hailed, weapons high. As one, the Aslanta turned back. At a bark from Brand, they raised shields and struck them in time, a loud ring, and cheered. I sang Matarasse Burning-Mother’s blessing in farewell. Brand answered wordlessly, for I think he mistrusted his throat, and nodded. Then he bade his men, and they went one by one. 
Vurn hobbled through, grinning backward with a friendly wave. Brand waited until last. He gazed us a last eye, then turned, and stepped through the gate’s glowfield. The Aslanta were forgone.
With less pomp, we Lashunta took the ~aiudara~ gate to Qabarat. I felt that not only the Elves but also Lady Ovele gladly wished us forgone. I misdoubt I have made a foe in Lady Aleriel, though I hope her grandfather High Lord Amendaris, even against his sternness, looks on our deed with more wisdom and ruth. I doubt not our ban’s harshness from El and acknowledge this guilt may have aftershocks long after our fetch’s end. Both Semuane and I bear writs from Lady Ovele to our High Matrons. Her words we can guess.
Grooms were watching the gateyard when we strode into Qabarat. We were swiftly led to the Threefold House, where Semuane and I stayed to give word while Erymi and Tae led the troop to Son’s embassy. We were soon heard by Her Highness’s steward Lady Sheiele, whom we yielded the whole tale so truthfully as we could, along with Lady Ovele’s writ. What outcome may further grow outstays. Afterward, I rode with Semuane to the Battleyards and saw her until the stallbarn. There we kissed long. She asked whether I am all right. I answered I will be. 
Then I left for the Embassy, where Her Highness Lady Nauve was waiting. Her Highness led me to her sunderroom and poured me myrrh-brandy. She gladdened at our comeback and said she would tonight send far-seer word to home, for she knows Lady-Mother has eagerly forelooked. I gave her so full a tale as I could, although weariness misdrew. It bestood well that, under the time-shift between El and here, she had other business to meet, and she gave me good leave.
Even after El’s loftiness, Qabarat somehow seems unsooth, as if all is a dream. What will I do on homecome to Son? How can I samely go about my livelihood?

10. Ashelae - Qabarat
This morn, I was called again to the Threefold House, where I met with Her Highness Lady Ivassil. The High Matron wished selfsomely to speak on our fetch in El. So I donned my best garb and went with Remaue in host.
Her Highness met me on her windowdeck overlooking the Battleyards afar, where outriders and warriors, maybe even Semuane, were drilling. She cheered our overcome and noted, rooted on my deeds first here fighting Semuane and also against the Kaymos’s ~qutau~ snake, that I have a taste for weapon-trial. Bowingly I answered I had merely wished to see my bidden fetch fulfilled. Her Highness seemed amused, though under what mood I knew not. She asked whether my warriors love me, to which I answered I dared hope such worthiness, but they listen and follow, and I thankfully try to be worthy. Thereat she smiled.
Then named me ~Ruzhyahaze~ - Worry-maker. The nickname set me aback. When I asked why so, Lady Ivassil outlaid I had not only broken her city’s peace but had also gotten banned from El (along with her city's outrider), though throughout the deed I had somewise overcome all hindrance and fulfilled my fetch. She also told she had read Lady Ovele’s wordwrit against me and Lady Semuane and had found it heartily mirthful. ~Ruzhyahaze o'imi-ahi zhora haya o deithilara thoma,~ - "Only a worry-maker could do both on the same fetch."
I had no answer. I feared she would chide me, would give an ill name for how I had weakened alliance between Elfkind and Lashunta, or would send ill word back to Son. Instead, she said she would do nothing such. ~Ruzhyahaza o'nazi ostra ha,~ - "Worry-makers get things done," outlaid Her Highness, even as they break and bend laws to reach their goals. She deemed I had well outdone, and also that she bethought herself lucky she had gained my toward boon in dearth for my unlawful weapon-trial. She looks forward to me being the same worry-maker when she calls the dearth in.
Wordlessly I bowed and left, and neither did I think Her Highness wished more. Her words bothered me. My standing in the High Matron’s dearth now seems plightier.
Back at the Embassy, Remaue and Erymi found me and marked my moodiness. They forespoke they must cheer me and that they had the right thought, for we must thank Lady Semuane for following us to El. Against all the bother she had first given, she has proven a true friend and love. They therefore have bidden a duskmeal tonight where she shall be our guest. Weepily I agreed. Then I left to gather gifts and ready.

From the Journal of Brand Likario

21. Kuthona - 2nd Day in Iadara, Kyonin after 91 Days on Castrovel
We are home, insomuch as we are returned to our world, though still a long way from Absalom. It is winter now, instead of late summer when we left, and far colder than the hot Qumarin desert that saw us away.
I’ve tried to write before now and give word to my feelings. I have no way to describe looking back that last time when I stepped through the gateway, that last sight of Vaeol standing strong but sorrowful despite herself, tears welling in her large golden eyes. I walked away from that possibility, even though she had chosen to stay sworn to maidenhood. I still don’t understand how she can forsake love. Yet it is her choice, her folk, and her way. As hard as it is to accept, our cultures hold some differences that maybe are too far to cross, almost as hard as the millions of leagues that separate our worlds.
Iadara, to my eyes, has so far shown as a pale copy of El. These scrawny trees let too much sunlight reach the ground, compared to the towerlike megadendra back on Castrovel. The feylights twinkling on the city’s spires seem tawdry, as if they lack some finesse or ineffable character. It could just be my mind's sorrow repainting the sight to fit my mood. Yet I can’t shake it. Back on Castrovel, I had longed for a cool summer breeze, and maybe even a morning frost. Yet now this weather feels cold and dry. I had never thought I would miss the other world’s sultriness.
The Kyonin Elves here have treated us with more suspicion than did their Sovyrian kin. Soon as we stepped through the worldgate, they relieved us of weapons, and also of the corpsicum. We have gotten adequate if bare lodgings, not quite the prison the Son Lashunta had lodged us in, but with poorer hosts. Then began the questions, and not just for me but all the men. What Draxy has or hasn’t told, given his fear of Elves, I don't know. Yet I have endeavored to be truthful as I can, insofar as I understand. When the Elves asked what Archmaster Virian has wished with the Corpsicum. I’ve answered I don’t know, which has little satisfied them. When they asked why he had used the Qumarin Gate and had not asked to use the Sovyrian Gate here, I could merely answer that the Archmaster seemed mightily betaken of a prejudice against Elves (which I quickly stressed I do not share), but that any I'd had at underlying reasons had died with Plummer and Vanya back on Castrovel. Whenever they've made plain their frustration or doubt, I’ve suggested they send word straight to Master Virian in Oppara.
What will become of our little worldquest I don’t know, though from what I can tell of Elves, sooner or later we will be escorted to Kyonin’s marches, from where they will bid us leave and never come back. Whether they will let us keep the corpsicum or not is the greater question, which bears weight on my contract with the Archmaster, and thereon the ultimate fate of my pardon from Taldor. Yet these are tomorrow’s questions. For today I am grateful that we have found a way back after I feared us forlorn on a far world, though not so alien or inhuman as first it had seemed. This last thought has rung through my thoughts for more reason than one.
While I passed a garden-court (returning from another maddening inquisition), I met a noble Elf-lady, to whom I bowed passingly until she bade me stay. Then she asked whether I am one of the Humans recently come from Castrovel, to which I affirmed.
The Elf-lady studied me in that inscrutable wise, which gave me time enough to wonder, both at her interest and who she was. Her greengold silken gown, though plain, was as fine as I’ve ever seen. The hunting-hawk perched on her jeweled staff hinted not only authority, but also privilege of someone who could take their ease despite the graciously busy air at this Elven Court.
Then she asked: “How did you find the Lashunta?”
At her question, one vision leapt to mind: Vaeol, rosy-gold hair tumbling over striped golden skin, half-hiding her shaven temples; brow-feelers arched and whipping questingly; soft-sheathed muscles hidden under damascened breastplate, broad-crested helm wedged under her arm, and heavy spear in hand. In those slanted, smiling eyes I beheld both mercy and honor, and also a humble fierceness.
I gazed straight at the Elf-lady: “I found them the noblest people I’ve ever met.”
The lady held my answer, almost so long that I feared I had offended. Then she nodded. “Yes,” she smiled: “That is how I too remember them.” Then she left me too late bowing in her wake, and also wondering that she, despite her agelessness, must be one of the original Elves who had come to Golarion two thousand years ago, that she herself had known Vaeol’s ancestors, had perhaps stridden the same streets in Qabarat’s Elfquarter, had maybe even trodden the same halls.
Nothing I can do now but sit in the lamplight, drink the admittedly fine wine, end this entry, and think of Castrovel: jungle so deep that darkness rules the ground and beasts dwell among the tree limbs, rain ever-falling mistlike, the domes and spires of glass and copper-green, squat Korasha thick muscled and fierce, and Damaya queenlike, like goddesses who deign to walk the earth, who haunt my dreams.
I look out my room’s window at this sky, so clear compared to Castrovel. Off to the west hangs the evening star, a lone silver-green point brighter than all around it. I stare at it and weep.

~Tiao~ - The End

Note: the adventures of Lady Vaeol (and maybe also Brand) will be continued in A Castrovel Adventure: Part 2.