Their are several armored guards present, taking positions around the various entries. They're all armed with nasty-looking hooked halberds, some of which are lowered with the spear-heads pointed at the backs of the prisoners: two alien Karnors, a Lapi and a Vartan-Jupani hybrid. They're not bound, and though kneeling they are at least kneeling on cushions.
Seven Vartans sit on the tall chairs, no two the same age, and three of them being women to boot. They were robes of various colors and quality, and all of them have filigree-tattooed forearms. The councilman in the center seat is old, but not elderly, and impressively large with speckled gray feathers and sharp golden eyes. "First off: who sent you?" he asks the prisoners in Vartan.
"No one. We came of our own accord, following a path laid out long ago," Tasha responds, being the only Vartan speaker present among the intruders. As such, she also repeats the question, as well as her answer to it.
Only half an hour ago, it was also Tasha who was first discovered by the natives, and this by her own decision. Knowing her party would be caught, and finding no reason to resist or evade discovery, she chose instead to be found. Sitting before the great statute of Apollyon Stormbreaker, ancient hero of the space fairing Vartans, she waited, hoping to present a non-threatening sight, expectant rather than paniced. She was calm then as she is now, glad to see her fellows unharmed.
The Vartans look skeptical.. which is a normal Vartan expression anyway. "Explain this ancient path," the speaker requests.
"Thousands of years ago, our forebearers traveled from the worlds beyond these, seeking the mysteries that reside here, the Primus System. The Terrans, and their creations, the Karnor. The Khattans and their mercenaries, the Vartans. The Silent-Ones and their clients, the Vykarin. The Celestial Empire. Together, in their ships that sailed between stars, they passed the gateway, and so arrived here: they were the Joint Expeditionary Force. As are we."
"But among those who came, there we other goals. Secret projects. Political subgroups. Dissidents. Though they claimed were solidarity, they were fractitious, and much of the doings of these subgroups went unnoticed. After the fleets fell to these worlds, much that was known was lost, and many of these goals -- both general and secretive -- were lost. We are people who remember the fleet as it was, and the original mission. We seek what was lost; we are explorers. One mystery has led us here."
"We seek an artifact. We know it is here, from the records of the past. I have seen it -- in the hand of Apollyon Stormbreaker's likeness," Tasha explains at length, and only then does she begin the equally long translation.
"And for what reason do you seek the Marker?" the speaker asks, leaning forward. "What importance does it have to any but us, the Storm Riders?"
"The Marker has importance to all Vartans, for it may describe our origins. I have seen other Markers; they are alien, beyond anything I have seen in the technologies of the old Fleet. Their presence here, too, is not a coincidence: it was believed they may hold some purpose here, and it is this belief I came across during our explorations. As you are the inheritors of the Marker and the desendants of Apollyon Stormbreaker and his followers, who left what would become Rephidim, you must also be aware of other artifacts that were lost. One amongst these was said to bear your Marker. It is this machine that showed me the way," Tasha explains, again repeating what she has said for the others.
"A machine?" the speaker asks, one eyebrow raised now. The other council members exchange glances, but remain silent. "Tell us of this machine oracle that sent you."
"A giant of metal, a Vartan in black-and-gold, but different: it is, and its type, was known as a 'Gryphon,' a eagle-lion, and the name of the Titans that could fly in the air. A masterpiece of the Khattans, created to bear the Marker, made for a Vartan man. Yet, it was seperated from the Harbinger Clan and their pilot for reasons I do not yet know. It has been sleeping in the ship where it was kept, ever since," Tasha explains, pausing a moment to catch her breath and consider her words. At length, she adds, "At least until it was found. His name is Melchior.//"
There a bit of feather ruffling, and every other council member looks to the speaker, who leans back again. It's never easy reading Vartan expressions, giving the beak. "They you must know the pass phrase," he says. "So tell me, hybrid: what is your Name?"
"I am the Bird of Hermes," Tasha answers inclining her head to the speaker.
"And what are doing?" the speaker asks next, as if it's part of a ritual.
"I eat my wings, that I might be tame," the hybrid responds. As with the first, she does not translate, knowing this is between her and her people -- a tradition that she is part of, though a stranger. An ancient pact that links them across time, without borders. She can feel it in her bones.
"Take them to one of the unused quarters," the speaker tells the guards. "The Council must deliberate." The guards holding weapons on the outsiders raise them up slightly, and wait for their charges to stand up.
The half-Vartan leaves her head bowed a moment more, before sitting straight again. "We are to be shown to quarters, where we will await the council's decision," she tells the others, though she doesn't look back. No, a part of her mind lingers in the ritual as she watches the elders for several seconds, and she is the last one to rise.
"As long as we're not being taken to the kitchen I consider that progress," Aaron says quietly.
The quarters they're taken to aren't far off. The windows are just arrow-slit wide, of course, and there's only one small bed and a table. Aside from the candles, it doesn't look like anyone has bothered with keeping the place ready for guests - there aren't even any bedclothes, just a bare hay mattress.
After the door is closed, Gabriel asks, "So, are we making progress? It doesn't sound like they were that interested in us."
Tasha contents herself to sit on the floor, leaving the bed for the others, whom she knows to be exhausted. She takes her seat near the door, looking out through the small arrow slit, in to the sky. "They challenged me with a ritual, to which I gave what I believe are the appropriate responses," she explains after a moment. "It may be hard for you to read, but they were flustered, and intent. I wasn't able to determine if my answers were what they wanted to hear, but believe they are correct. It has been several thousand years, after all, and we know how much can change."
"Even if they were correct, they may not be what they wanted to hear," Gabriel notes. "Have you seen the actual Marker yet?"
"That's very true. But I knew that, when I answered. It would be impossible to know their politics from a single meeting, so I drew upon our common bonds and history. I know they revere both the Marker and Apollyon Stormbreaker; I believe they have kept the mysteries all this time. I can feel it. I see it in them, even if they have forgotten parts, or clouded its meaning in politics; I see it as surely as I have wings," the red woman answer. She rolls her head from side to side, working out latent stiffness from the walk. "I have. And I believe I have seen the 'shadow demons,' though I chose not to reveal my presence as an observer, as it felt rude to do so at the time. I knew they were coming but couldn't warn you all, so I sat down and waited for them to find me after departing their services."
"So, the Vartans do have the Marker then," Gabriel says, sounding relieved.
"What's this about demons?" Hakeber asks. "What did you see, Tasha?"
"No. But I'm uncertain if I should say more. There's a certain sacredness about this place -- lingering history and an ageless dedication, both in its people and in its very walls. The longer I waited, looking at Apollyon Stormbreaker, and the more I spoke with them, the more apparent it became. I find that I am increasingly uncomfortable stepping on that history." Turning to her mate, Tasha watches him a moment, then adds, "But it's rude to leave my fellows in the dark, especially when they may be in danger. I'll say this: there appears to be a deep cultural connection to the ... what did you call them again? ... The shadow-people, the Marker is here, and that we interupted them in the closing of a ceremony, which I witnessed."
"And here," Tasha adds, pulling out a paper with peculair writing on it, offering it to Hakeber, "I made these notes. Is that enough? I'd really like to avoid saying more; this is a difficult position for me."
The scholar sits on the bed and reads the notes, with Aaron over her shoulder. "Tattoos?" Aaron asks in a squeak. "A tattooing ritual?"
"So it would seem," Tasha remarks, albiet quietly and with reservation.
"I wondered about the tattoos on the council.. but the guards have them too," Aaron says, sounding nervous. "They all have them?"
"Most of the ones I saw did. I don't recognize the language, and the others who didn't were the ones I couldn't see well. Is it really that strange?" Tasha asks.
The Lapi looks at everyone else, then says, "Well, I can excuse Gabriel and Hakeber for this, and I'm guessing you never got into Tizhar or some of the more outlying regions much when you were serving on the Rake, Tasha - but that sort of tattooing is usually used to make slaves. Vartans like decoration, and they have furless forearms where tattoos can show.. but if they were for decoration, why wouldn't they do the same to their beaks?"
Tasha pauses at the revelation, eyes widening. "You think they're enslaved to the shadow-men, then?" As she glances between her fellows, looking torn, and anxious, she seems to decide on something, and says, "I highly doubt Apollyon Stormbreaker intended his people to enter in to slavery. We don't know the whole story yet, but what you say concerns me greatly. From what we heard from the other tribes, they traded the Marker for some sort of pact. And yet, now they are marked as slaves? Perhaps the bargain has shifted against them."
"Yeah, this could be bad, or weird," Gabriel agrees, looking thoughtful. "Still.. if they are slaves, what do they do? We saw homes, businesses.. everything you'd expect in a community. And all of it was Vartan-centered. If they're slaves, they don't seem to be.. slaving.. at anything. You saw the shadow-men, Tasha: did they look like they could push around Vartans?"
"Since this is a serious concern, and dangerous, I'll explain what i saw: in the chamber below the main keep, I watched a white-feathered Vartan child be tattooed under the Marker, carried aloft by wingless, black robed figures. The walls seemed unnatural, dark and shifting. I feared she was going to be sacrificed, but, thankfully, they simply tattooed her. She seemed dazed, and dressed with a silver ring on her head, and white garments. I ... I didn't want to misjudge them, or assume I knew their business better than they -- I made that mistake with Queen Jade-Eyes and her people, and I didn't want to repeat it. Further, I meant what I said about their history. It is difficult to want to callously regard so greata history, when so close to it," Tasha explains.
"As for the shadow-men, they seemed slight and unintimidating -- but that doesn't mean they are," she adds.
"Maybe ..." Hakeber starts to say, but is interrupted by the door being opened. One of the guards enters, and points to Tasha. "You are being summoned by the High Councilor," he announces.
"If I do not return, please convince Gabriel and Hakeber to escape," Tasha murmurs in Olympian as she rises, knowing only she and Aaron speak it well enough to understand. That done, she switches to Standard to translate the request. "Hopefully, I'll be back soon," she assures Gabriel, knowing he must be worried.
The room Tasha is brought to is more like a library than an office. While there's a desk and several chairs and tables, the walls are covered in floor-to-ceiling bookcases full of hand-bound tomes. The speaker from before is seated behind the desk, and he gestures for Tasha to take one of the chairs in front of it.
As bidden, Tasha walks over and takes a seat. "You wished to speak to me, High Councilor?" She asks after inclining her head out of respect.
The Vartan elder waits until the guard has left and the door is closed. "Would you like something to drink? I have tea," he offers.
"Tea would be wonderful, thank you High Councilor," the young woman answers. Hands in herp lap, she watches the senior Vartan with an intent, polite curisosity, trying not to look at his tattoos but being drawn to them none-the-less.
They are indecipherable, naturally.. and a bit faded with time as well. Apparently the locals don't get them touched up - another sign of them being non-decorative. The man pours the tea without betraying any emotion, and passes the cup to Tasha. There's no offer of sweetener or cream. "You've put us in an uncomfortable position, Bird of Hermes," the man states. "Do you have another name I can use?"
Tasha accepts the cup with thanks, holding it cupped in her lap while she speaks. "It seems I am always causing difficulty," she admits with a little smile, "And you are not the first to say so. Do you dislike the name? I suppose it is unweildly; my given name is Aldara Tasha. Aldara means 'Winged-Gift', from my ... My mother." After pausing to take a sip, she asks, "I have heard there are others here besides Vartans. Perhaps they are expressing concern? Or, is it an internal matter?"
"You seem to have heard much," the Vartan notes. He takes a drink from his own tea (which is incredibly bitter and probably made from bark). "The problem, in fact, is that you actually showed up - several thousand years too late. We no longer possess the Marker. It was our sacred trust, but we surrendered it in order to survive instead. Nobody expected the Bird of Hermes would ever arrive, after all."
"I don't blame you -- I would have also accepted sacrifice before allowing my people to disappear. It is very hard to carry on a tradition when everyone is dead, after all, but in surviving you have continued to do so. More importantly, you are still alive and -- I hope? -- otherwise doing well?" The young woman asks, then has another sip. As a world-traveler now exposed to a legion of different drinks and dishes, the harsh bitterness is not as suprising for her as it once might of been. While potent, she decides it has a pleasant, simple nature that reminds her of her earlier life.
"We are doing well," the Vartan notes. "In the fifth generation since the founding of the Clan, we began to fall to an invisible foe: disease. We had not lost the old knowledge, but our attempts to deal with it with the resources we had were not enough. We could not go to the other Vartan colonies for help, for fear of spreading the plague to them as well. When it seemed our keep would become a tomb, salvation came.. with a cost."
"They the ... shadow-people? Their name is difficult on the tongue.They came and offered to you an answer? If I may say so, that is rather convienent timing?" Tasha asks, ears perking as she pauses to drink. "And please, I am not here to judge. Please do not think I have come to condemn you or your people for anything. I am aware of how late the Bird has come to the world, and of the other pilots, I have seen no record of their survival. In fact, I am not the original pilot. But please, continue?"
"/Yes, the K'hu'an,/" the Vartan replied, click-hissing the alien name. "And yes, we too suspected them of being the cause of the illness, which defied our attempts to isolate. But they had a cure,/" he says, and raises his left forearm so the tattoos face forward towards Tasha. "/We couldn't administer it ourselves, of course. And all Vartans would need the treatment before puberty, when the disease would be felt. In exchange, they took the Marker, bringing it out only during the inoculation ceremony. So it has remained for thousands of years./"
"Then it seems we are both in a difficult position," the younger Vartan remarks, puasing to take a sip and then a moment before she continues. "In no way do I want to risk the safety and security of your people, but at the same time, it will difficult to simply walk away -- as much because of what has happened as leaving the Marker behind. You also claim the disease is contagious,and I assume this is why you remain in isolation along with the ... complexities of your alliance. As I am half-Vartan, I may also now be exposed, which means I cannot risk leaving until I understand what it is we are both facing. Luckily, Melchior is not the only piece of the past I have unearthed. The Karnor man with me -- my mate -- he is the Captain of the TSS Fenris, and along with him, we were able to revive the ship's doctor. We have access to Expedition-era medicine. I fear, though, that will not be enough?"
"We do not know," the councilman says, splaying his talons. "If the disease was a weapon used against us, then perhaps the K'hu'an still possess it. If it was natural, then how could it survive this long with no hosts? Only the K'hu'an can say for sure, and they do not offer anything without compensation. Either way, you must go to them. As you say, you may be infected if the disease still exists. You are also the rightful owner of the Marker. While it is brought out, it is of ceremonial value only - it certainly plays no part in the medical aspect of things."
"If that is what you believe best for us all, then that is what I will do. Should anything befall your people for my coming, I swear to you I will bring each and every one of you to Abaddon to find a cure, even if I must bring a starship to Sinai to do it." Setting her cup aside, Tash reaches over and offers her hand to seal the deal, and as a show of trust. Without knowing the vector for the disease, she has no way of knowing if a touch wil spread it, after all.
The councilman hesitates, then takes the offered hand. "We will not tell the people of your identity until is clear you have retrieved the Marker," he notes. "There is no need to make them feel that they have failed in their duty."
"Thank you," is all Tasha says to that as she shakes the man's hand.
Leaning back, the young woman asks, "What do I need to do to meet these K'hu'an? I should warn my fellows of my possible contangion, and there is also our Vartan guide who has remained outside the city gates but may be vulnerable as well. I would suggest asking one of my party to warn her, in the case that you feel she should, as yet, be uninfected. It may also be best if they all withdraw from the village if you feel it is safe, to avoid the K'hu'an taking notice of them, as I'm sure their presence will be hard to hide forever."
"We have protocols for handling outside contact," the man states. "We do trade on occasion, and we have been informed by our K'hu'an doctors that those who have been inoculated within the past five years cannot be carriers of the disease."
"As for meeting them.. you will just have to follow the route the use during the ceremonies, deeper within the keep," he adds. "Your fellows should be in no danger from disease.. but I cannot say what the consequences of bring them with you would be. It is possible that the K'hu'an have never encountered any race other than Vartans here."
Tasha listens, then nods. "Then it looks like I am the only danger, while my fellows may be immune -- or at least immune to the variety used upon Vartans. Given the unsettling coincidence of your infection and treatment, I am deeply concerned a similiar tactic may be used against the people I have brought with me, which would be disasterous for the newly reformed JEF, or worse. I will meet with them and request they return Titan before I head in to the mountain," she decides, expression a mask of grim focus. She knows her friends -- and Gabriel in particular -- may object, but like the High Councilor, there is a great deal more at stake than her safety. "And, I am sorry for being late, for what it's worth."
"The guard will escort you back to your friends," the Vartan says. "When you have decided on your course of action, you may relay it to him."
"Thank you, High Councilor. And, thank you for being willing to speak to us," Tasha offers as she stands, followed by a dipping of her head before she turns and nods to the guard. "I'm ready."
Back at the room, Gabriel has been pacing. As soon as Tasha enters, he lights up. "How'd it go?" he asks.
"Interestingly," Tasha says as she enters, the woman walking over to sit on the edge of the bed so that everyone can see her. "We need to talk. I have been informed that our suspicions are true, that the Marker is in possession of the K'hu'an, and that it ws given over. What we did not know is that it was given over for medical treatment of a disease that resisted what Expedition-era medicine the Clan still maintained. The Clan provided the Marker, the K'hu'an the cure, and it is possible the Clan provides other services as well -- I did not push the matter of the slave tattoo but you are probably correct."
After pausing to catch her breath, her fingers drumming against her leg, Tasha continues, saying, "The High Councilor -- their leader -- recognizes my right to the Marker through our exchange earlier. However, as you may have guessed, this is a very complicated situation and the Clan's safety is at stake. Moreover, the K'hu'an's reaction to us is unknown, and the people have not been informed of who I am, which is good. I will need to meet with the K'hu'an soon and attempt to address the situation before things become even more complicated."
"And, as you also may have guessed, I am may be infected as well. As such, I cannot leave until I meet with them. You won't like this, but I would like all of your to return with our guide to Titan, as I fear the K'hu'an interest in us and if they should chose to act, you will all be in danger," Tasha concludes, exhaling deeply after from the strain of relating so many critical problems so quickly.
"Before we do anything.. what was he able to tell you about this tribe of K'hu'an?" Aaron asks. "And when did this disease strike?"
"They are quite mysterious, and do not remain save to apply the tatooes and administer the cure to adolesent Vartans who reach a certain age. He belives they may be reached by the underground tunnels," Tasha answers, turning to watch Aaron and avoiding Gabriel's eyes. "I know what you're thinking: I thought the same thing, that it is some sort of tactic to gain control over the Vartans. And I think we are right."
"But how long did it take them to come up with the disease, if that's the case?" the Lapi asks. "They'd have been in the mountains long before the Vartan arrived."
"The disease struck several generation in. He doesn't know how it may persist, or if they still have it, but we can't risk carrying a disease in population centers. Aside from that, he explained that they do not give any information for free -- everything demands a price," the young hybrid explains.
"Hmmm," the Lapi mutters. "Yeah, Hakeber and Gabriel should head back to Titan's Aerie," he agrees. "The JEF need them, if anything happens to you. I think I should tag along with you though."
"I disagree. They will both need your assistance in returning to Abaddon, or doing anything else, upon Sinai. You know they don't have much experience with our world," Tasha insists, giving the Lapi a brow-raised look. "Besides that, they seem happy enough to enslave and infect. Tell me, what answer can I give, if they demand you for the Clan's safety, perhaps for daring to interfere?"
"You're forgetting my profession, Tasha," Aaron points out. "Are you capable of telling medicine from Naga-oil? I also know about magically-induced illnesses and treatments." The rabbit pats his vest pocket, where he keeps his poison darts. "And I can take care of myself, one or another. I know the K'hu'an, bizarre as they are, still react to certain poisons."
Hakeber remains quiet, but wide-eyed.
Tasha stares at the man with some intensity, clearly not happy about the insistence, evident in the deep frown that crosses her muzzle. At length, she says, "I don't know if I'm coming back, Aaron. I might be infected. More importantly it, it would haunt me forever if any of your were hurt or lost because of this. It was my decision to pursue these Markers, and by tradition, this is something that I am part of. But you don't need to be -- and yes, I know you will say you want to be here to help me. But it's not about me, it's about these people, and a object that isn't more important than any one of you. These people have served the K'hu'an for a long -- they may not be telling me the whole truth. And what can I do, if they want something in exchange for the Clan's safety? Technology? Weapons? You? Do you know what we'll hve to say?"
"Yes. Yes. If it comes down to it, that is all we can say. We're guests here; this clan survived because it sacrificed its honor, it's pride so that their children will live. The more we show them, the more they can ask for. Please realize this." The young woman takes a deep breath, eyes closing as she rubs the bridge of her muzzle.
At length she exhales a sigh, head shaking. "I won't refuse you and longer. I don't have the right or authority to tell you what to. But, please consider what is at stake. I don't want to lose any of you again."
"I want a sample of whatever they use to 'cure' the Vartans," Aaron insists. "Potion, ink, lullaby.. whatever it is. That's my price for not following."
"If I can bring it, I will," Tasha promises. She then turns her head to Hakeber, hears perking.
Garbiel is scowling, as he turns things over in his head. "With no information on this disease or its symptoms, they could claim you are infected and charge you anything for the cure," he grumbles.
"Uh, I'll go.. at least, outside.." Hakeber says quietly and a bit embarrassed. "None of us speak Vartan. The only person we know will understand us is Hellas. But.. you don't have to go, Tasha. We can get back to the city, and Aaron can get one of those magic doctors that fixed Gabriel and the others to come up and look at you.."
"I know. They could right now, you know," Tasha says, looking up to her mate. "They could do anything, which is why I'm so worried. Or claim anything, for that matter. As a precaution against retaliation or failure, I have promised the High Councilor passage to Abaddon for the treatment of his people should something happen. I will need you to guide them if I cannot."
Tasha blinks at Hakeber's suggestion, frowning. "That is extremely reckless," she points out. In a gentler tone, she explains, "I would be endangering Titan and any city I enter for my own gain. That is unbecoming of a JEF officer, and certainly immoral by any measure, however kindly I believe you meant it. This is what I was trying to explain when we started this journey. I know it seems like a good time, in a fun and magical world, but exploration is dangerous. Not everyone comes home, Hake."
"Move hundreds.. without exposing them.." Gabriel stutters.
"No, you could stay here, Tasha," Hakeber says.
"There's no other way," Tasha tells gabriel. "Our presence here might endanger them. If the K'hu'an revke their medical assistance, what do we do? tell them, "Oops, good luck with that?""
"You aren't going to them just yet then, Tasha," Aaron says. "I need your help first. They must keep records here, or at least know about the disease that's keeping them bound to the K'hu'an. I want to know everything they do: symptoms, gestation and what remedies they tried on their own. You need something to bargain with when you see the K'hu'an, after all. And I might be able to identify this thing."
Head shaking, Tasha turns to Hakeber and says, "They'll know I'm here sooner or later. I've learned it's rather difficult to keep secrets when you stand out, and you're never as clever as you think you are about it. Besides, they're expecting a certain something from me. I'm the perosn they've been waiting for all these years, and even though they have stumbled in their duty, they still held on to it waiting for the 'Bird of Hermes' to come. If I'm going to claim that name, I had best live up to it -- or else I'm just a coward using people's belief's to get my way."
The young woman pauses at Aaron's insistence, then she snaps her fingers. "That sounds reasonable enough I'm willing to not contest it. If you can help while here, and you accept the risks, then I have nothing to say against it."
"I will arrange your meeting with someone who can quietly get you to their records, if they are willing. It's still risky, but it's worth the risk, I think," she adds.
"Okay then, let's get to it right away," the Lapi says, hopping to his feet. "Once we know a bit more about the situation, we can all make a better decision, right? These two need their rest, besides."
Aaron also taps Tasha's nose. "And that someone to help me is you. I don't speak or read Vartan. You'll have to be my translator."
Tasha glares at Aaron, at lest until her ears fold back, and she has to smile. "I guess so. Don't curse me if thing go badly, though. And remember, I can't wait forever. But I agree that the others need to rest if they're going to return to Titan."
"I.. uh.. may also need access to that child you saw earlier," Aaron whispers to Tasha. "She'll have the stuff fresh in her system, and if they have a decent lab I can do a lot with a blood sample.."
"I'll see what I can do, but I can't promise anything," the hybrid replies.
"I know you can be persuasive," Aaron says, grinning. "I'll need some of your blood too, by the way. And probably a bit from Gerryonde for a control sample.. anyway, why are we standing around? I'm all excited now!"
Tasha bobs her head, using the motion to roll back and up as she stands. "You're right; there's work to be done. And Gabriel?" The woman reaches over and takes her mate's hand with both of her's, squeezing it. "Everything else aside, I'm sorry for putting you through this. But, you helped me understand this is the right path. I hope, at least, you'll be proud of me."