The Saggites of Dron, the summer star—Schedar in the Cassiopeia
constellation of old Earth—have a story to tell. I am Dinah
Musafa Trobairitz, and it is my duty and pleasure to tell it.

A brief introduction must come before we begin. I am the first of
the Trobairitz to touch the Quantum Entanglement Communicator, so
many of you will not know us. We are storytellers and travelers
missioned to share the tales of the universe with its people. We
are not journalists. We are not interested in fact or avoiding
bias, of arguing philosophy and passing judgements. We share the
stories.

This story begins in the 855th year since the founding of Beroun,
when a young woman named Sinda began her first holiday. She was
leaving that industrious city behind for respite in the
picturesque town of Ausix. More importantly, she was going to see
and old friend.

                              #

The late morning air was warm despite the spray of salt water. The
ferry inched along toward the harbor against a determined wind,
forcing her to squint at the wooden homes peeking through the
trees. Their colorful roofs, a signature of Ausix, dotted the
hillside in its gentle arc toward the Ausentia mountains in the
distance. Upon them and as far as the eye could see were the
tall sentinels with their perfectly perpendicular trunks and
prickly needle boughs. Together they formed an endless blanket of
green growing softer and hazier as the kilometers stretch on.
Directly ahead, approaching at a snails pace, were three great
wooden platforms painted in white that made up the small harbor.
Boats were arrayed with their masts jutting into sky and lines
wrapped amongst themselves like some nautical spider's fantasy.
Everything smelled of fish and salt and dirty engines. And peace,
thought Sinda.

When finally the boat reached its destination she was the first
away, her silk-weave pack hanging loosely over one shoulder. With
a graceful hop she was ashore and striding confidently along the
pier. Waves of sound lapped at her from ahead bearing hints of
a festival and the laughing of children. Then directly ahead were
the tiny faces painted in colors and patterns like flowers and
animals mimicking those creatures in their play. A young one of
perhaps eight or nine darted around her from behind and shot off
in a weave through the crowd entering their holiday like buzzing
bees. The girl, or perhaps a boy, leapt long to avoid a puddle
where the pier met the solid ground and continued onward up the
cobblestones to a majestic fountain of dark stone and brilliant
blue water. There they boy, for his voice gave him away, chortled
a string of insults to turn the sailor's heads, and a rush of
children started after him in chase. The screams of delight
followed the mob into the distance, through a painted gate with
ornate masks hanging en masse before their cries were lost in the
sound of music, shouting, and the ringing chimes of games.

Sinda felt the smile breaking across her face and shook her head
with relief. A festival was in full bloom and she was just in time
to see it all. A moment later she had reached the fountain herself
and peered up into the shining sun with a squint to see the
towering stone figure of the sea god wrestling with a tentacled
beast. Poseidon, perhaps? A bird perched atop the mythic statue,
pecking lightly at his crown, then taking flight in a great swoop
down toward the water and then immediately back up into the air.
Sinda watch as creature twirled in play and slid into the
distance.

What a magical place, she thought, just like the posters and
salesmen had said.

The crowd from the ferry was moving as a unit toward the festival
gates and the city proper so she let herself be pulled along.
Great arches extended upward from either side of the street
reaching their zenith above the closest rooftops before sweeping
back down to a central pillar dividing the road in half. Around
this center column were concentric rings of flowers in brilliant
hues to match the tiled roofs. A makeshift garden sprang up around
the flower beds which must have once held a manicured lawn, but
which was being trampled over by the swells of people coming and
going, laughing in glee.

In the lane ahead, a wide street that could easily hold twenty or
more abreast, the street vendors had carved out their positions in
hectic fashion, some choosing the edges of the throng and leaning
their tents against a building while others built outposts in the
midst of traffic with tables and banners. From the nearest tent
wafted smells of meat and sharp sauces on a grill that set her
mouth watering. Before Sinda could begin to shift toward the food
the press had her moving beyond. A tiny cry came from a child
nearby who had dropped a frozen pastry onto the dirty cobbles.

Next to her a burly man in a multi-layered vest shouted something
in Arabic and flashed a golden tooth her way and opening a great
pink parasol overhead. Other similar coverings were opening around
the crowd as well now that she looked for them. More pinks here,
and yellows and soft blues: all pastel. It must be something to do
with the festival, but she had no idea what it could mean.

Beyond the entrance the crowds began to thin and spread out as the
parade of people stopped to shop or made their ways down side
streets. To Sinda's left a crowd had formed around a pair of
street musicians dueling with long stringed instruments across the
alley from one another. The children danced in spinning circles
like old dervishes and an old man clapped and sang along quite out
of tune, but with such enthusiasm that it didn't seem to matter.

Just ahead a low wooden beam jutted out more than a man's height
into the street, its purpose unknown, but highly decorated for the
occasion. A pair of girls sat on top as if to ride it like an
animal, one with a parasol of her own in yellow and the other
holding frozen cream in a paper mug. Their heads leaned together
in conspiracy and shot looks further into the crowd at something
Sinda couldn't see.

Just beyond the girls a group of men sat at a high make-shift bar
on stools stapled together from wooden boxes. The sign above the
bar in at least three languages announced its purpose. Can't have
a party without a huff-bar, she thought. Sinda slid up to the end,
dropped a coin--larger than she'd expected, but this was
a holiday--and did a quick line before continuing on.

This was the life. It was a carnival in full swing. Would she'd
have time with Borzin to explore the tents before they set out? It
would be a nice way to reconnect, and the meat pies looked steamy.
Maybe they could find barm or just get ice cream like in the old
days. But no, a holiday in the wilderness is what she signed up
for and that's what she was going to get. Still, maybe just a few
minutes before she went looking for Borzin wouldn't hurt. Besides,
the huff was kicking in and that always made her hungry.

A few blocks away from the port or docks or whatever that area was
called the land started its upward slope. Ausix was built into the
hills and from afar it seemed houses sat on top of other houses.
Here close in she could see the gentle slopes and carefully
terraced landscaping that created the illusion. Sinda looked
skyward between a pair of buildings that butted up against the
corner of one intersection to marvel at the kites and ribbons
flapping in the wind coming in off the sea. Long strings led back
down to windows. Apartments, most likely. Streamers hung from
clothes lines that crossed the alley, their true natures revealed
by one oversized pair of mens underclothes still pinned amongst
the splash of colors. Again she wondered to herself what the
celebration was for.

Sinda wasn't sure of the direction of the cottage she was renting
with Borzin, but she knew it was on the outskirts of the city near
the great forest. That meant up. She could grab a bite on the
way--maybe one of those sticky dumplings or the meat pies--and get
closer before asking for directions. She was letting her taste
buds argue when the sounds of coins pulled her attention to
a gambling facade built into the side of a pastry shop. The sign
wasn't in her native tongue, but she recognized enough of the
script to see it was some sort of pun on "sticky fingers." How
dreadful. A bit of chocolate wouldn't hurt, though.

Wandering nearer the smells of baking she noted three men and
a woman around the gambling area, cheering loudly. The woman had
the rich chocolatey skin of a southerner but spoke with the
lilting accent of Ausix. The hegemony's presence in Beroun had
brought a lot of wealth to their lands and rich opportunities. The
old lines that divided the map were falling quickly and new faces
and customs appearing in the most remote places. It was a good
thing, she told herself. New ideas were good for everyone.

It seemed that the woman was a native here, or close enough to it.
The three men with her all had the olive skin, bright eyes and
downward squints that were the common hallmark of Ausix. The
eldest could be in his 60s, or perhaps a decade younger if he
spent that time at sea. The other two, including the man behind
the counter, looked not much older than Sinda's early 20s.

Trying not to stare, she refocused on a chalk menu beneath the
serving window listing prices. Again they seemed far too high.
A sweet roll in Beroun would cost a third of what they charged.
Still, one had to account for the distance. It must be expensive
to import sugar here. Anyway, Sinda had more money in her accounts
than ever before. Her first year at the PSGG, her first real job,
had paid well. Six roommates and a flat the size of a small car
didn't hurt her financial situation either. She could splurge
a bit on holiday.

The ritual of buying goods in Ausix was something of a chore
involving hand gestures, flashing of hard currency, and
a overbearing amount of up-sell, but a sugary treat eventually
made its way into her hand wrapped in a bit of waxy paper. There
were no benches or tables nearby, so she stepped around the corner
and sat on the second step leading up into an apartment building.
It left her an excellent view back down the street and onto the
sea glittering with a hundred thousand tiny reflections of
sunlight. It also positioned her so she could watch the gamblers
without having to stare directly at them.

Purely coincidence, and people watching was natural part of
holiday. Sinda would be camping soon and might not get the chance
to meet many locals. What if, upon returning to work, one of the
engineers asked her about the people she met? How embarrassing.

The pastry--something called a doozi--was covered in honey and
sugar over a flaky crust and stuffed with whipped chocolate
butter. It was incredibly rich and dangerously messy. She was glad
for the wax paper and took dainty bites. She had nothing to wipe
her mouth with and the extra time it took to eat gave her more
time to watch.

The woman she named Shiv in her head. It was the name of
a princess from southern Hatoona in a novel she read last year and
it seemed fitting to this boisterous figure. Shiv was winning, it
seemed, and the men with her were riding along in her victory.
Let's call them Donny and Bonny. There were drinks going around
and Shiv lit up a long stemmed pipe that oozed out a thick blue
smoke. Sinda know the smell immediately and licked her lips. Shiv
noticed and smiled and that in turn drew the attention of Donny.
Before she knew it she was being beckoned to the counter.

Sinda's mother called her a wild one, and her brother used to
berate her for rushing into things, but if she were honest with
herself she probably would have walked away from this group were
it not for Shiv. Something about stepping into an ally with
a bunch of strange men playing a game she didn't know in a city
hours from home didn't seem quite right. Shiv's broad face looked
amused but nonthreatening and that put her at ease.

The last of the doozi disappeared into her mouth and she licked
her fingers clean as she stepped closer. Donny pointed at a waste
bin for her wax paper--kind of the scoundrel--and made room for
her. The dealer behind the bar cracked a wide grin with teeth that
didn't add up to a full set and rambled out an invitation that
seemed rehearsed. The other men nodded along and gestured at dice
and cards laying on a stretch of felt that was pinned to the top
of the bar. The game itself seemed simple enough, just assorted
probabilities and opportunities to win at the expense of others or
ride along on their odds. There were games like this in Beroun in
the big gambling halls. She'd even been to one of those fairly
recently but only to see a show. Sinda had a head for numbers.
This would be fine.

The gestures grew emphatic and she pulled out a stack of bills
from her purse. No sooner had it begun then it was over and her
money swept away with laughter and encouragement. "More, again,
try your luck," the voices all suggested, but Shiv kept her mouth
shut. Blue smoke poured out of her nose in a slow cascade and
heavy eyelids watched her without expression. That reassuring
feeling Sinda felt before was gone. This was a mistake after all.
The men were very close now and seemed much bigger than they had
before. Did Donny's sweat stains look a bit too dark? Where were
all the other people in the city, exactly?

"Ahoy!" a shout from behind started her from the moment. A greying
man with a hunched back squatted on a square gig behind a funny
creature with a long nose. The gamblers seemed back to normal
again, shouting at each other and rolling dice. Shiv's hand fell
on her shoulder as she turned toward the new voice.

"Come back any time, flower," she said. Sinda nodded and made
a sound that meant nothing and backed away. The taste of doozi
seemed dry in her mouth.

The gig driver sat patiently waiting for her as if she'd already
ordered a ride. He gestured up in to the simple seat behind his
perch and Sinda climbed right in, eager to be away from whatever
it was she'd just dodged. The beast began a slow plod uphill and
the alley disappeared around the corner.

That really could have been bad, she knew. And now she'd gone and
jumped into a little carriage with another stranger. At least this
looked like a legitimate gig.

"Well now. I believe we're on track. 'Away' was it? That's where
you were headed, right, miss? I don't suppose you've got anything
more specific in mind?" The driver--was a gig operator called
a driver?--was cordial, polite even.

"Thank you for stopping. I…" she trailed off. What to say? She had
been stupid and jumped into something dangerous without thinking.
Then again, had it really been a danger? The moment seemed
dream-like in memory already. None of them had said anything
threatening at all or pushed her to do anything she against her
will. The Hatoona woman had been kind enough in her burly way.
Maybe it was all in her head? Now she was beginning to sound
foolish even to herself. This old man had rescued her from what
exactly? Her losing at dice? At least he saved her purse. How had
he known to do that? "Can you take me to fairless hills cottages?
It's up near--"

"Oh yes miss. You're hear to see the mountains then. Lovely they
are this time of year and a much better destination than away.
I suppose they are that, too, if you think about it. Not much more
away than Ausentia. Off in the land of elves and old folk where
a day is a dream and the trees whisper secrets. Least that's how
the songs say it. 'Suppose they same some other things as well,
but I'm sure all that is just to scare the kiddies, right?" The
driver's tongue did as much walking as the beast pulling them
along.

"Bajingan, miss. Not a beastie," well that settled that question.
"Like a donkey or a mule, more. Sweet things but none too bright.
This is Moomoo, or the Lady Moomoolicia if you're a formal type.
She's an old, draft bajingan from the mountain farms. See them up
that way in the hills?" And Sinda did see. Lines carved into the
sides of what she'd have called cliffs. She couldn't imagine being
able to stand on anything so steep, let alone plow a field there.
"Sure footed, to be sure, miss. You'll never see a bajingan fall,
as the saying goes."

The ambling pace set by Moomoo was peaceful, like Ausix had felt
upon arrival. She tried to let herself forget her embarrassment
a few moments prior and focus on the feelings of freedom.

"That there is church of the old folk, so the songs say. Not the
building, mind, just the rock," the driver continued his narration
of their passage. Gesturing with a head nod he was indicating
a jutting of stone that pierced out the side of the hill ahead at
least six men in length and twice that in height. The massive
boulder must have rolled down this way centuries before and lodged
itself in the surrounding stone. Or maybe it was pressed outward
from pressures under the ground. She was no geologist, but she was
pretty sure volcanoes didn't work that way. "The old folk meet up
inside the rock to celebrate the year changes and high feasts,
like Christmas. Or--"

"Or that's what the songs say?" she blurted out. Instantly she
regretted it. That must have sounded mocking and rude. She opened
her mouth to apologize but he was already going again.

"The towns people tried attaching their own church to it a few
centuries back. Maybe they wanted to out-holy the old ones? That's
the squat brick of a building you see there. Been abandoned for
years now. Contractor got greedy, strange things…" he trailed off.

Once again the sound of children came back upon Ausix. Higher up
the town buildings eased away from the tall structures like the
those by the sea and instead tended toward two and three story
homes. The house they were passing by had bright blue tile roofing
and walls of white plaster scrubbed so clean they hurt to look at.
A small fence, not much more than knee height, ran around the
perimeter of the yard. Inside were two toddlers, twins maybe,
sitting on a manicured lawn with legs spread far out to the sides.
They rolled a ball the same blue as the roof and used their legs
to trap it before sending it back the other way. With the sun high
and skies clear the scene was idyllic.

Next to the home was a ground car in sparkling red. A Leva,
probably a '48. That was vintage, probably a collector's item.
This place had money, that's for sure. Sinda let herself daydream
about what it would be like to live by the seaside in this
beautiful town so far from the bustling city of Beroun and the hub
of hegemony activity. It might get boring to be stuck here all the
time, she thought, but didn't really believe it.

The driver kept on talking and Moomoo kept walking, but Sinda
tuned him out and let her mind stretch out. Borzin was here,
minutes away. A nagging thought struggled into her reverie. They
were best friends as children, but what if their lives were too
different now? She pushed it away and watched the Ausentia
mountains creep closer bit by bit.

Edit: check for pacing, beats, and reference the coke in decisions
to try the gambling. Make sure this still has the right feel for
Ausix. Was fear the right reaction when she got in over her head?
Did she go far enough to realize that it was her own doing and
bullheadedness not letting her give up?

                              #

Sinda hesitated at the door and took a deep breath. It's just
Borzin. Things can't be that different.

[Borzin on the phone as she enters. Try to establish his voice
patterns as very professional and break that pattern in how he
communicates with Sinda]

[describe the cottage, use the action of putting her things away
to navigate]

[Borzin's call takes him throughout their space and he tries to
simultaneously welcome her with gesture and facial expressions.
Let him get a bit distracted and say something wrong on the call
and then have to refocus on that to fix it, leaving her isolated]

[Sinda will want to stay busy once she's got her stuff stowed.
Open a bottle of wine, offers some, starts the pours. Pulls out
some food she gathered on the way (add that to the earlier scene)]

[More before the turn...]

[Borzin finally disconnects, goes straight into a ramble about
work and without a breath for air embraces Sinda and takes up the
wine. He'll be wired and talkative.]

[Sinda will try to match him for a bit but ... what? is she
uninterested in it? Is she waiting for something else?
Distraction? What's the unspoken communication here? What is
happening with the senses? Blerg.]

***

- Event: Sinda finds Borzin in the cottage and friendship is
  rekindled.
- Function: Introduces Borzin and shows him as tethered to modern
  life, popularity, and importance. Despite this, establish that
  he is still her friend and wants this adventure to work. Nothing
  resolves here. Don't try to fix Borzin's connectivity yet. Use
  it to throw a barrier between them.
- Beginning: Finds Borzin already at the cottage, talking on the
  phone with his office, which is still reaching out for his help
  despite the vacation. He's distracted and anxious and brusque.
- Middle: When Borzin finally ends his call the chance for a quick
  embrace and rekindling are passed. Sinda has a bottle of wine
  open and will try to connect with him about adult things since
  that seems to be Borzin's focus now.
- End: Near the end of the scene Sinda will regret a loss of some
  of that old friendship just in time for a glimmer of the old
  Borzin to come through. She'll latch onto it and the laughter
  they share will have none of the grown responsibility of today.
  She'll go to sleep smiling remembering that.
- Pulse: A nervous anticipation. Will they still be friends?

Freethoughts: I need something to work on that's related to
discovery, searching, and uncovering secrets. Perhaps Borzin has
that element to him so I don't overload all the curiosity and
troublemaking onto Sinda. She's the one that's good at pushing too
far and losing herself, so if I combine that with his curiosity
and need to know that could balance it out. What redeeming parts
are Sinda and which are Borzin?

Sinda is headstrong and naïve. Borzin is overly proud of his
accomplishments and planning. He'll be an antithesis to her type
of "pantsing". He's a planner and has things mapped out, feels
a sense of responsibility weighing him down but mistakes that
weight for seriousness. Stress is important to him as it means
he's doing things right. But he needs to understand and plan. He
can't let go of things just like Sinda can't, but for different
reasons.

Okay, so if Borzin is linked up to things back home, maybe the
scene is mostly one-sided with him talking to people back at the
office while he gestures and mouths things to Sinda. He'll give
her half-attention and while she's eager to embrace him and make
things like they were when they were kids there's this barrier up
between them at the very start that throws her off. She's a bit
coked up still and will try to roll with it, try to get settled
and make it seem natural and like she's okay with it. She's
a professional too, right? She knows what it's like to have to
work late (though this IS holiday). Borzin seems really important
and that's great for him.

When the scene turns in the middle it'll be because he finally
gets off the line, but then he'll keep going on about his job and
things happening with him. His own self-importance will become
part of the barrier between them. Still, Sinda will get a glimpse
of the boy she knew, but only a glimpse. What will that be?

Something about a game they played as kids? Or maybe a habit he's
not grown out of even after all this time? A rhyming game?
A fascination with sports? Something to nerd out about? A game?
A story? hmmm...

Arrives at the cottage, a tiny affair, where Borzin has already
arrived. He took the attic bunk and left her the wall-bed.

Dialogue!!! What do they sound like? Talk about Sinda's job, and
Borzin's mom and his dog. Fade-out into narration...

***


***

- Event:
- Function:
- Beginning:
- Middle:
- End:
- Pulse:

They set out on their hike the next morning with dawn and sing
a rhyming song from school (will we write one verse?).

They make their way into the mountains, try to navigate a famously
tricky pass, but each time they find their way blocked and have to
double back. Eventually Borzin gets frustrated and uses some sort
of tech to bypass a challenge. Sinda calls him a cheater and they
move into the saddle between two peaks.

The sound changes in the hidden valley and their voices echo back
at them from all sides. The distant sound of gulls has vanished,
only noticed with its absence.

The trees change from sentinels to unfamiliar twisting types
neither of them recognize. The low entwining branches created big
networks across the animal trails. Borzin wants to turn back but
Sinda says they already cheated, so they might as well see it
through. They crawl under the brambles and get snagged. Sinda is
ahead and can't turn around to help Borzin. Pushes through, says
she'll come back the other way.

Great crackling of ozone and a peel of thunder (lightning storm in
the middle of the day? it was clear). Sinda comes out the other
side and the pass is transformed.

***



***

- Event:
- Function:
- Beginning:
- Middle:
- End:
- Pulse:

The mountains on either side are pyramids, grandiose and of pure
alabaster. Moreover, great shimmering fields project from turrets
around the sides and Sinda can feel their vibrations like a slow
heartbeat against hers. It's uncomfortable and makes her want to
go away.

Somehow they decide to go further and explore

The pyramids have more than 4 sides, but all sides square.

Space distorts as they approach and the structure expands to
a tower with many faces and then to a long hallway as the
dimensionality shifts. Have fun with it.

***


***

- Event:
- Function:
- Beginning:
- Middle:
- End:
- Pulse:

Eventually the Jinn burn Ausix to keep their location secret.
Sinda and Borzin witness everything from atop the elvish citadel.
They see the fires and the ships taking to the skies. The citadel
itself begins to break apart and segments take off. They see and
are seen by a Jinn woman, but she is in a hurry and they escape.

***