460 lines
22 KiB
Plaintext
460 lines
22 KiB
Plaintext
The Saggites of Dron, the summer star—Schedar in the Cassiopeia
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constellation of old Earth—have a story to tell. I am Dinah
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Musafa Trobairitz, and it is my duty and pleasure to tell it.
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A brief introduction must come before we begin. I am the first of
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the Trobairitz to touch the Quantum Entanglement Communicator, so
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many of you will not know us. We are storytellers and travelers
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missioned to share the tales of the universe with its people. We
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are not journalists. We are not interested in fact or avoiding
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bias, of arguing philosophy and passing judgements. We share the
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stories.
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This story begins in the 855th year since the founding of Beroun,
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when a young woman named Sinda began her first holiday. She was
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leaving that industrious city behind for respite in the
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picturesque town of Ausix. More importantly, she was going to see
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and old friend.
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The late morning air was warm despite the spray of salt water. The
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ferry inched along toward the harbor against a determined wind,
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forcing her to squint at the wooden homes peeking through the
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trees. Their colorful roofs, a signature of Ausix, dotted the
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hillside in its gentle arc toward the Ausentia mountains in the
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distance. Beyond them and as far as the eye could see were the
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tall sentinels with their perfectly perpendicular trunks and
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prickly needle boughs. Together they formed an endless blanket of
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green growing softer and hazier as the kilometers stretch on.
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Directly ahead, approaching at a snails pace, were three great
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wooden platforms painted in white that made up the small harbor.
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Boats were arrayed with their masts jutting into sky and lines
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wrapped amongst themselves like some nautical spider's fantasy.
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Everything smelled of fish and salt and dirty engines. And peace,
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thought Sinda.
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When finally the boat reached its destination she was the first
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away, her silk-weave pack hanging loosely over one shoulder. With
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a graceful hop she was ashore and striding confidently along the
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pier. Waves of sound lapped at her from ahead bearing hints of
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a festival and the laughing of children. Then directly ahead were
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the tiny faces painted in colors and patterns like flowers and
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animals mimicking those creatures in their play. A young one of
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perhaps eight or nine darted around her from behind and shot off
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in a weave through the crowd entering their holiday like buzzing
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bees. The girl, or perhaps a boy, leapt long to avoid a puddle
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where the pier met the solid ground and continued onward up the
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cobblestones to a majestic fountain of dark stone and brilliant
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blue water. There they boy, for his voice gave him away, chortled
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a string of insults to turn the sailor's heads, and a rush of
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children started after him in chase. The screams of delight
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followed the mob into the distance, through a painted gate with
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ornate masks hanging en masse before their cries were lost in the
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sound of music, shouting, and the ringing chimes of games.
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Sinda felt the smile breaking across her face and shook her head
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with relief. A festival was in full bloom and she was just in time
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to see it all. A moment later she had reached the fountain herself
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and peered up into the shining sun with a squint to see the
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towering stone figure of the sea god wrestling with a tentacled
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beast. Poseidon, perhaps? A bird perched atop the mythic statue,
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pecking lightly at his crown, then taking flight in a great swoop
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down toward the water and then immediately back up into the air.
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Sinda watch as creature twirled in play and slid into the
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distance.
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What a magical place, she thought, just like the posters and
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salesmen had said.
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The crowd from the ferry was moving as a unit toward the festival
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gates and the city proper so she let herself be pulled along.
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Great arches extended upward from either side of the street
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reaching their zenith above the closest rooftops before sweeping
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back down to a central pillar dividing the road in half. Around
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this center column were concentric rings of flowers in brilliant
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hues to match the tiled roofs. A makeshift garden sprang up around
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the flower beds which must have once held a manicured lawn, but
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which was being trampled over by the swells of people coming and
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going, laughing in glee.
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In the lane ahead, a wide street that could easily hold twenty or
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more abreast, the street vendors had carved out their positions in
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hectic fashion, some choosing the edges of the throng and leaning
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their tents against a building while others built outposts in the
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midst of traffic with tables and banners. From the nearest tent
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wafted smells of meat and sharp sauces on a grill that set her
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mouth watering. Before Sinda could begin to shift toward the food
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the press had her moving beyond. A tiny cry came from a child
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nearby who had dropped a frozen pastry onto the dirty cobbles.
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Next to her a burly man in a multi-layered vest shouted something
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in Arabic and flashed a golden tooth her way and opening a great
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pink parasol overhead. Other similar coverings were opening around
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the crowd as well now that she looked for them. More pinks here,
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and yellows and soft blues: all pastel. It must be something to do
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with the festival, but she had no idea what it could mean.
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Beyond the entrance the crowds began to thin and spread out as the
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parade of people stopped to shop or made their ways down side
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streets. To Sinda's left a crowd had formed around a pair of
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street musicians dueling with long stringed instruments across the
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alley from one another. The children danced in spinning circles
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like old dervishes and an old man clapped and sang along quite out
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of tune, but with such enthusiasm that it didn't seem to matter.
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Just ahead a low wooden beam jutted out more than a man's height
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into the street, its purpose unknown, but highly decorated for the
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occasion. A pair of girls sat on top as if to ride it like an
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animal, one with a parasol of her own in yellow and the other
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holding frozen cream in a paper mug. Their heads leaned together
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in conspiracy and shot looks further into the crowd at something
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Sinda couldn't see.
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Just beyond the girls a group of men sat at a high make-shift bar
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on stools stapled together from wooden boxes. The sign above the
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bar in at least three languages announced its purpose. Can't have
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a party without a huff-bar, she thought. Sinda slid up to the end,
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dropped a coin--larger than she'd expected, but this was
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a holiday--and did a quick line before continuing on.
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This was the life. It was a carnival in full swing. Would she'd
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have time with Borzin to explore the tents before they set out? It
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would be a nice way to reconnect, and the meat pies looked steamy.
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Maybe they could find barm or just get ice cream like in the old
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days. But no, a holiday in the wilderness is what she signed up
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for and that's what she was going to get. Still, maybe just a few
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minutes before she went looking for Borzin wouldn't hurt. Besides,
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the huff was kicking in and that always made her hungry.
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A few blocks away from the port or docks or whatever that area was
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called the land started its upward slope. Ausix was built into the
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hills and from afar it seemed houses sat on top of other houses.
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Here close in she could see the gentle slopes and carefully
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terraced landscaping that created the illusion. Sinda looked
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skyward between a pair of buildings that butted up against the
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corner of one intersection to marvel at the kites and ribbons
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flapping in the wind coming in off the sea. Long strings led back
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down to windows. Apartments, most likely. Streamers hung from
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clothes lines that crossed the alley, their true natures revealed
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by one oversized pair of mens underclothes still pinned amongst
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the splash of colors. Again she wondered to herself what the
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celebration was for.
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Sinda wasn't sure of the direction of the cottage she was renting
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with Borzin, but she knew it was on the outskirts of the city near
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the great forest. That meant up. She could grab a bite on the
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way--maybe one of those sticky dumplings or the meat pies--and get
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closer before asking for directions. She was letting her taste
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buds argue when the sounds of coins pulled her attention to
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a gambling facade built into the side of a pastry shop. The sign
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wasn't in her native tongue, but she recognized enough of the
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script to see it was some sort of pun on "sticky fingers." How
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dreadful. A bit of chocolate wouldn't hurt, though.
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Wandering nearer the smells of baking she noted three men and
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a woman around the gambling area, cheering loudly. The woman had
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the rich chocolatey skin of a southerner but spoke with the
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lilting accent of Ausix. The hegemony's presence in Beroun had
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brought a lot of wealth to their lands and rich opportunities. The
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old lines that divided the map were falling quickly and new faces
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and customs appearing in the most remote places. It was a good
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thing, she told herself. New ideas were good for everyone.
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It seemed that the woman was a native here, or close enough to it.
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The three men with her all had the olive skin, bright eyes and
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downward squints that were the common hallmark of Ausix. The
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eldest could be in his 60s, or perhaps a decade younger if he
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spent that time at sea. The other two, including the man behind
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the counter, looked not much older than Sinda's early 20s.
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Trying not to stare, she refocused on a chalk menu beneath the
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serving window listing prices. Again they seemed far too high.
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A sweet roll in Beroun would cost a third of what they charged.
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Still, one had to account for the distance. It must be expensive
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to import sugar here. Anyway, Sinda had more money in her accounts
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than ever before. Her first year at the PSGG, her first real job,
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had paid well. Six roommates and a flat the size of a small car
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didn't hurt her financial situation either. She could splurge
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a bit on holiday.
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The ritual of buying goods in Ausix was something of a chore
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involving hand gestures, flashing of hard currency, and
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a overbearing amount of up-sell, but a sugary treat eventually
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made its way into her hand wrapped in a bit of waxy paper. There
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were no benches or tables nearby, so she stepped around the corner
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and sat on the second step leading up into an apartment building.
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It left her an excellent view back down the street and onto the
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sea glittering with a hundred thousand tiny reflections of
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sunlight. It also positioned her so she could watch the gamblers
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without having to stare directly at them.
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Purely coincidence, and people watching was natural part of
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holiday. Sinda would be camping soon and might not get the chance
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to meet many locals. What if, upon returning to work, one of the
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engineers asked her about the people she met? How embarrassing.
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The pastry--something called a doozi--was covered in honey and
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sugar over a flaky crust and stuffed with whipped chocolate
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butter. It was incredibly rich and dangerously messy. She was glad
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for the wax paper and took dainty bites. She had nothing to wipe
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her mouth with and the extra time it took to eat gave her more
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time to watch.
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The woman she named Shiv in her head. It was the name of
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a princess from southern Hatoona in a novel she read last year and
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it seemed fitting to this boisterous figure. Shiv was winning, it
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seemed, and the men with her were riding along in her victory.
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Let's call them Donny and Bonny. There were drinks going around
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and Shiv lit up a long stemmed pipe that oozed out a thick blue
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smoke. Sinda know the smell immediately and licked her lips. Shiv
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noticed and smiled and that in turn drew the attention of Donny.
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Before she knew it she was being beckoned to the counter.
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Sinda's mother called her a wild one, and her brother used to
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berate her for rushing into things, but if she were honest with
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herself she probably would have walked away from this group were
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it not for Shiv. Something about stepping into an ally with
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a bunch of strange men playing a game she didn't know in a city
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hours from home didn't seem quite right. Shiv's broad face looked
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amused but nonthreatening and that put her at ease.
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The last of the doozi disappeared into her mouth and she licked
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her fingers clean as she stepped closer. Donny pointed at a waste
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bin for her wax paper--kind of the scoundrel--and made room for
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her. The dealer behind the bar cracked a wide grin with teeth that
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didn't add up to a full set and rambled out an invitation that
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seemed rehearsed. The other men nodded along and gestured at dice
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and cards laying on a stretch of felt that was pinned to the top
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of the bar. The game itself seemed simple enough, just assorted
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probabilities and opportunities to win at the expense of others or
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ride along on their odds. There were games like this in Beroun in
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the big gambling halls. She'd even been to one of those fairly
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recently but only to see a show. Sinda had a head for numbers.
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This would be fine.
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The gestures grew emphatic and she pulled out a stack of bills
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from her purse. No sooner had it begun then it was over and her
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money swept away with laughter and encouragement. "More, again,
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try your luck," the voices all suggested, but Shiv kept her mouth
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shut. Blue smoke poured out of her nose in a slow cascade and
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heavy eyelids watched her without expression. That reassuring
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feeling Sinda felt before was gone. This was a mistake after all.
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The men were very close now and seemed much bigger than they had
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before. Did Donny's sweat stains look a bit too dark? Where were
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all the other people in the city, exactly?
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"Ahoy!" a shout from behind started her from the moment. A greying
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man with a hunched back squatted on a square gig behind a funny
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creature with a long nose. The gamblers seemed back to normal
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again, shouting at each other and rolling dice. Shiv's hand fell
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on her shoulder as she turned toward the new voice.
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"Come back any time, flower," she said. Sinda nodded and made
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a sound that meant nothing and backed away. The taste of doozi
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seemed dry in her mouth.
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The gig driver sat patiently waiting for her as if she'd already
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ordered a ride. He gestured up in to the simple seat behind his
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perch and Sinda climbed right in, eager to be away from whatever
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it was she'd just dodged. The beast began a slow plod uphill and
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the alley disappeared around the corner.
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That really could have been bad, she knew. And now she'd gone and
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jumped into a little carriage with another stranger. At least this
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looked like a legitimate gig.
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"Well now. I believe we're on track. 'Away' was it? That's where
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you were headed, right, miss? I don't suppose you've got anything
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more specific in mind?" The driver--was a gig operator called
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a driver?--was cordial, polite even.
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"Thank you for stopping. I…" she trailed off. What to say? She had
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been stupid and jumped into something dangerous without thinking.
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Then again, had it really been a danger? The moment seemed
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dream-like in memory already. None of them had said anything
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threatening at all or pushed her to do anything she against her
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will. The Hatoona woman had been kind enough in her burly way.
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Maybe it was all in her head? Now she was beginning to sound
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foolish even to herself. This old man had rescued her from what
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exactly? Her losing at dice? At least he saved her purse. How had
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he known to do that? "Can you take me to fairless hills cottages?
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It's up near--"
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"Oh yes miss. You're hear to see the mountains then. Lovely they
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are this time of year and a much better destination than away.
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I suppose they are that, too, if you think about it. Not much more
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away than Ausentia. Off in the land of elves and old folk where
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a day is a dream and the trees whisper secrets. Least that's how
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the songs say it. 'Suppose they same some other things as well,
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but I'm sure all that is just to scare the kiddies, right?" The
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driver's tongue did as much walking as the beast pulling them
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along.
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"Bajingan, miss. Not a beastie," well that settled that question.
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"Like a donkey or a mule, more. Sweet things but none too bright.
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This is Moomoo, or the Lady Moomoolicia if you're a formal type.
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She's an old, draft bajingan from the mountain farms. See them up
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that way in the hills?" And Sinda did see. Lines carved into the
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sides of what she'd have called cliffs. She couldn't imagine being
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able to stand on anything so steep, let alone plow a field there.
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"Sure footed, to be sure, miss. You'll never see a bajingan fall,
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as the saying goes."
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The ambling pace set by Moomoo was peaceful, like Ausix had felt
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upon arrival. She tried to let herself forget her embarrassment
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a few moments prior and focus on the feelings of freedom.
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"That there is church of the old folk, so the songs say. Not the
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building, mind, just the rock," the driver continued his narration
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of their passage. Gesturing with a head nod he was indicating
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a jutting of stone that pierced out the side of the hill ahead at
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least six men in length and twice that in height. The massive
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boulder must have rolled down this way centuries before and lodged
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itself in the surrounding stone. Or maybe it was pressed outward
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from pressures under the ground. She was no geologist, but she was
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pretty sure volcanoes didn't work that way. "The old folk meet up
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inside the rock to celebrate the year changes and high feasts,
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like Christmas. Or--"
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"Or that's what the songs say?" she blurted out. Instantly she
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regretted it. That must have sounded mocking and rude. She opened
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her mouth to apologize but he was already going again.
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"The towns people tried attaching their own church to it a few
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centuries back. Maybe they wanted to out-holy the old ones? That's
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the squat brick of a building you see there. Been abandoned for
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years now. Contractor got greedy, strange things…" he trailed off.
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Once again the sound of children came back upon Ausix. Higher up
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the town buildings eased away from the tall structures like the
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those by the sea and instead tended toward two and three story
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homes. The house they were passing by had bright blue tile roofing
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and walls of white plaster scrubbed so clean they hurt to look at.
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A small fence, not much more than knee height, ran around the
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perimeter of the yard. Inside were two toddlers, twins maybe,
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sitting on a manicured lawn with legs spread far out to the sides.
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They rolled a ball the same blue as the roof and used their legs
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to trap it before sending it back the other way. With the sun high
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and skies clear the scene was idyllic.
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Next to the home was a ground car in sparkling red. A Leva,
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probably a '48. That was vintage, probably a collector's item.
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This place had money, that's for sure. Sinda let herself daydream
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about what it would be like to live by the seaside in this
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beautiful town so far from the bustling city of Beroun and the hub
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of hegemony activity. It might get boring to be stuck here all the
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time, she thought, but didn't really believe it.
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The driver kept on talking and Moomoo kept walking, but Sinda
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tuned him out and let her mind stretch out. Borzin was here,
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minutes away. A nagging thought struggled into her reverie. They
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were best friends as children, but what if their lives were too
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different now? She pushed it away and watched the Ausentia
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mountains creep closer bit by bit.
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Sinda hesitated at the door and took a deep breath. It's just
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Borzin. Things can't be that different.
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***
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- Event: Sinda finds Borzin in the cottage and friendship is
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rekindled.
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- Function: Introduces Borzin and his "cheater" mentality.
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Establishes the long friendship is still strong.
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- Beginning: Finds Borzin already at the cottage.
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- Middle:
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- End: Talking late into the night.
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- Pulse: A nervous anticipation. Will they still be friends?
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Arrives at the cottage, a tiny affair, where Borzin has already
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arrived. He took the attic bunk and left her the wall-bed.
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Dialogue!!! What do they sound like? Talk about Sinda's job, and
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Borzin's mom and his dog. Fade-out into narration...
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***
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***
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- Event:
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- Function:
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- Beginning:
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- Middle:
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- End:
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- Pulse:
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They set out on their hike the next morning with dawn and sing
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a rhyming song from school (will we write one verse?).
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They make their way into the mountains, try to navigate a famously
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tricky pass, but each time they find their way blocked and have to
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double back. Eventually Borzin gets frustrated and uses some sort
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of tech to bypass a challenge. Sinda calls him a cheater and they
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move into the saddle between two peaks.
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The sound changes in the hidden valley and their voices echo back
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at them from all sides. The distant sound of gulls has vanished,
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only noticed with its absence.
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The trees change from sentinels to unfamiliar twisting types
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neither of them recognize. The low entwining branches created big
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networks across the animal trails. Borzin wants to turn back but
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Sinda says they already cheated, so they might as well see it
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through. They crawl under the brambles and get snagged. Sinda is
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ahead and can't turn around to help Borzin. Pushes through, says
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she'll come back the other way.
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Great crackling of ozone and a peel of thunder (lightning storm in
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the middle of the day? it was clear). Sinda comes out the other
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side and the pass is transformed.
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***
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***
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- Event:
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- Function:
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- Beginning:
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- Middle:
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- End:
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- Pulse:
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The mountains on either side are pyramids, grandiose and of pure
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alabaster. Moreover, great shimmering fields project from turrets
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around the sides and Sinda can feel their vibrations like a slow
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heartbeat against hers. It's uncomfortable and makes her want to
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go away.
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Somehow they decide to go further and explore
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The pyramids have more than 4 sides, but all sides square.
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Space distorts as they approach and the structure expands to
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a tower with many faces and then to a long hallway as the
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dimensionality shifts. Have fun with it.
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***
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***
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- Event:
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- Function:
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- Beginning:
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- Middle:
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- End:
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- Pulse:
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Eventually the Jinn burn Ausix to keep their location secret.
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Sinda and Borzin witness everything from atop the elvish citadel.
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They see the fires and the ships taking to the skies. The citadel
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itself begins to break apart and segments take off. They see and
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are seen by a Jinn woman, but she is in a hurry and they escape.
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***
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