Chapter 2

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

12. Ashelae, 24,535 - from Qabarat, Upflood on Father Yaro
We are bound homeward, fourteen warriors and eight Shota, on a strong and swollen flood that hinders us. How many days until Son we know not. If stormtide’s showers strike again, we may need to either wait or forsake the river.
Semuane followed us on Shota-back so far as she could, until the city’s edgemark. There she halted, lifted swordbill high, and hailed, which our troop answered loudly. I, who had watched with Remaue beside, threw her a kiss. Then we headed to the wearisome work of poling the flatbark upflood, for I have had the warriors shift and relieve the boatmates to make better time.
I know little of what to bewrite about yestereve’s feast at the High Matron’s hall. It showed surely so rich and glittery as only Qabarat can be, and unless I misdoubt, heedfully to make Son feel old and wantsome in match. Not for nothing they name it the Shining Jewel of the Western Sea. They do so not merely for our sake, forwhy Qabarat has many allied cities throughout Asana and makes itself the crown-gem among all. I spent so much of the nighttide dancing with Semuane as I could.
Her Highness indeed asked my speech on the end of the Aslanta’s forquest, for she even went so far to say that I among all Lashunta know the Aslanta most and best. In my speech, I brushed this kindliness aside, for though I had spent such time with them and had learned all I could even from Elder History (and remarked the old treaty between Son and the Aslanta Empire, including their right to use the Worldgate that stood upon the barren cliffs of Qabarat, which wrought fun laughter), I reminded there is far more we know not.
All we truly know, I read, was that the Aslanta had come here lost, whether from boldness or foolishness, on their forquest. They were at sundry times kindly, childlike and cunning. At times they showed faith while at others they broke it, as they had in Candares among the Kaymos. They were handsome and friendly even if their culture’s stalworth for wives is wholly unlike ours. In short, they showed both our best and worst, like warped looking-glasses, which reminded me of the omen, gotten through Son’s Overmind, from Matarasse Herself: we are all Burning-Mother’s children, on whichever world we dwell, wherein maybe lies a lesson for how Son and Qabarat, and even all Lashunta, should behave. At end, I got a warm and thoughtful cheer from the throng, and stood down.
The feast’s rest recks little, though all spoke fairly. I spent the night with Semuane as last tide together. Remaue found us ere dawn, led me back to the Embassy, and helped me dress and arm in time to oversee the sith. So now with Qabarat astern, we meet our wayfare’s last leg. I find my feelings muddled, unsure whether to look forward or fear.