A cool breeze drifted down from the mountain and into the garden that was in the center
of the quarters that belonged to the royal family. It followed along the natural spring that
the palace was built around, leaving flowers dancing in its wake. It swirled towards the
gazebo where the Szar had proposed to his wife and the Szarya and brushed against the
ripple that appeared in the air.
One ripple was followed by another sparkling ripple and another as if someone had taken
a pool of water and set it on end. Red sandstone buildings shone from the portal,
mingling with images of the garden. The breeze drifted across the surface before
continuing on its way.
A slender, golden skinned figure stepped out, her waist length hair cascading in ebony
waves across slender shoulders clad in a natural linen shirt to touch the waist of her
burgundy skirt.
Ithilcalien took a deep breath, savouring the mingled scents of mountain and sea before
stepping out of the way with bare feet. She smiled at the Djinn on the other side.
Rashid followed her through. One hand rose to brush a lock of her dark hair away from
her eyes as he smiled down into them, before he glanced around. "What a beautiful spot,"
he said.
He turned back to Ithilcalien. "It reminds me a little of Alshazar in the use of water, but
in other ways it's very different." Dark eyes danced. "it's cooler, for one thing.
Ithil smiled up at Rashid, pride in the gardens of her home glowing in her eyes.
“It is?” She asked a little dazedly then blushed, soft, musical laughter at herself as much
as to what he had said escaping her. “If you turn around, you’d see why. The Palace sits
up against the mountains.”
Rashid smiled; she really had the most charming blush, one he could not resist provoking
from time to time. But he turned as instructed, looking up at the mountains that towered
overhead. "Impressive," he said. He paused for a moment to take in the view. "Do they
have a name, the mountains I mean? I forget whether or not you have told me before."
“The Krystallis,” she answered, gazing up at them. “There is a legend that says the north
was once a part of the east and in the north there lived a Frost Wyrm who became greedy
and wanted all the lands. He plunged both lands into winter never allowing the other
seasons to return.
“When the Sildanai discovered, they chained the Wyrm deep within the lands of ice. This
only angered the Wyrm and his anger fuelled his icy breath and sent the north winds
towards the east. Not wanting to kill the Wyrm, the Sildanai, with the help of earth
elementals, forced the earth to rise. When the Wyrm’s breath struck the still hot earth it
created the mist that forms around the upper reaches of the lower mountains.”
"That reminds me of some of the legends of my own people," Rashid said, and smiled.
"Elemmiire too has its elementals: sylphs of the air, undines from the freshwater rivers
and pools, and so on. My own ancestors are said to be the efreet, which can still be found
in some of the remoter parts of the desert. Through them, the desert djinn are also kin to
the salamander.
"It is said that when the world was young, the elementals roamed it far more freely than
they do today. The efreet were the first because only they could tolerate the heat and fire
of the young Elemmiire, they and the rockier earth elementals. Then the rocks cooled and
the sylphs, undines and their kin joined them. But now such sightings are rare indeed,
although there are some who can claim elemental blood in their ancestry."
Ithil laughed softly, “It is a much more interesting origin story than my own people can
claim. Each Telith Nation was created from a different element, the Malara were made of
gold, the Taurësúlë of woods, the Telepcal were made of quick silver and the Urhini were
made of sand, each element was molded or carved, mixed with blood of Avram who
created Arlsyn, then placed deep in earth. When it came time for each Nation to wake
winds blew into the cavern and gave us breath and strength to come into the daylight.
Because of this we’re tied to it brother and sister.”
"I think that that is an equally interesting tale," Rashid said. "I have heard of the Urhini
and the Taurësúlë, of course, but I don't believe you've mentioned the Malara and the
Telepcal before. What are they like?"
“They are exact opposites of each other. The Telepcal live for life and go on adventures
every chance that they can. Many become wanderers and mercenaries. They are as
changing as the quicksilver they were made from.
“The Malara are what most refer to as high elves. They are a golden people from their
skin to their hair. But they are arrogant and look down on the rest of the nations. They
believe that they are the true Telith and that the rest of us have turned away from who we
are meant to be.
“My father says dealing with them is a necessary evil and would much rather deal with
the Telepcal. I won’t say what my aunt’s opinion is.” Ithil said, her eyes sparkling with
laughter.
"Your aunt is a woman of strong opinions, I take it?" Rashid said, amused. "I can
understand though whilst your father would prefer to deal with one race more than the
other. It is one thing to be self-confident, and perhaps all who are possess a touch of
arrogance. But carried to extremes such arrogance can be dangerous - and annoying for
everyone else."
Ithilcalien suppressed a laugh, “You could say that about her, yes. My aunt isn’t known
for her diplomatic abilities. She is more of a do it her way or you will find yourself at the
business end of something sharp, something she has decided makes a wonderful weapon
or being swung at, no matter what the option the chances that you will be picking
yourself up off the ground are rather high.
“I think my cousin once told me that her adopted father has referred to her as scary on a
number of occasions.
“My other aunt really isn’t much better.” She tilted her head, “Come to think of it a great
deal of the women in my family are,” the Urhini paused, trying to think of a better phrase
than temperamental psychopaths , “extremely opinionated. I think you might have lucked
out.”
Smiling innocently, she stepped out of the gazebo and onto the stone pathway that ran
beside it. “I suppose its that way for many people. There is always someone that you
would rather interact with more than others for many different reasons. I think high levels
of arrogance would be one at the top of my list.”
Rashid's lips twitched as he followed Ithilcalien out of the gazebo. "I consider myself to
be extremely lucky," he murmured, his tone amused. "For many things."
He was interested by her observations regarding her family. The Silverleaf clan was
extensive and he was still attempting to place some members of it. Ithil's comments
helped with that process.
Ithil stopped, and turned halfway, her eyes curious, but sparkling with amusement, as if
she knew what he was talking about but wasn’t quite sure. She was also hesitant in asking
if her theory was correct or not, instead she settled with a carefully worded, “Uh-huh.”
Rashid's lips twitched. Catching her up in a couple of strides, his arm slipped about her
waist. "How could I not be lucky when you're here with me?" he said. He bent his head to
steal a quick kiss.
Laughing softly, Ithil returned his kiss with one of her own. “So you’re lucky just
because of me? Surely you must be mistaken,” she teased, “I’m just a scholar who seems
to get more ink on her hands than on a page. I think I’m the lucky one.”
"Why shouldn't your presence make me lucky?" Rashid replied. "There you are,
intelligent, beautiful and kind - and happy to be with me." He brushed a dark lock of hair
from off her cheek. "A pearl without price."
Ithil’s cheeks darkened as she smiled up at him. “I’m going to lose this argument, aren’t
I?” she asked, despite it not actually being an argument. Her hand rested over his, her
fingers lacing with Rashid’s.
“I am happy to be with you,” she smiled.
"This is one time that you should probably just graciously concede defeat," Rashid agreed
with a smile. "For you won't change my mind."
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.
Ithil lowered her head and dropped into a curtsy with the fluidness of a dancer. “Then I
surrender to you and hope for your mercy in the dealings of my error.”
She smiled as she stood “I don’t want to change your mind,” she reached out to caress his
cheek, “and guiltily admit I enjoy hearing it. But I think we’re both equally lucky.”
"That compromise is one I am pleased to accept," Rashid said. "For I am as glad to hear
that you are happy with me as you were to hear it from me. No-one is so self-confident
that they don't need the words from time to time, I think. They are reassuring."
“They are reassuring.” Ithil’s smile turned slightly mischievous and she turned her hand
so that she could kiss his.
"Then I shall have to ensure that I say them often," Rashid said. He smiled at Ithilcalien,
enjoying the playful light in her dark eyes. She was beautiful and the way she smiled
made her even more so, but it was not a beauty that was only skin-deep, it was one that
seemed to radiate from her heart and soul.
She looked like she was about to say something, realized that right then she had
absolutely nothing to say and smiled instead, a smile that said everything that she didn’t
seem to be able to.
“What do you want to see?” Ithil asked, thinking that she could show him around a bit
before gathering a few of her things.
"Why don't you decide?" Rashid suggested. "I'm the guest here, so I do not know all that
there is to see. I am willing to leave it to your judgement."
“Well,” Ithilcalien looked around the garden. “The living area is that way, there’s a
common room, a dining room, and a library. Uhm, my room is…oh dear.” She blinked as
she realized just where her room was. “Up there, on the seventh floor.”
Rashid could not resist a laugh at that last remark. "Then perhaps," he suggested, "you
should give me a bit of a guided tour and we can work our way around, or up, to your
room?"
“That sounds like a good plan. I’ve just never realized how far up it is before.” Ithil
lowered her eyes and smiled sheepishly. “Alright, then we’ll go this way.” She motioned
towards a small stone bridge that linked the short path from the gazebo to the rest of the
garden.
Rashid followed Ithilcalien as they made their way over the small stone bridge and into
the gardens, his dark eyes looking around with interested appreciation. The gardens had a
restful air that he liked a lot. The fountains that were dotted around the grounds added the
gentle splash of water to the tranquil atmosphere and every so often there was a short
pillar with a 'garden ball' atop it standing in rows of three. The djinn paused beside one of
these, examining it curiously.
"What does this depict?" he asked Ithilcalien.
Ithil leaned in closer to the sphere then smiled, “It’s the telling of how the Shroudlings
came to acquire the Friesian horses that they love.”
Delicate fingers trailed over the crystal globe, the small image that was played within
instantly came to life around them as it was magnified in the garden, taking on a realistic
feeling and transporting them to the edge of the shore as the sea tossed a ship around on
the waters before them. The storm raged, lightning striking the water and barely missing
the ship.
Rashid watched the scene play out with an interested expression. "I don't think I know
that story," he said. He cast an enquiring glance at Ithilcalien, silently asking if she was
willing to tell it.
Ithil nodded in answer to the silent question. Her fingers traced runic patterns on the
crystal, starting the hologram like projection over.
“The Friesians are the large jet-black horses that the Shroudlings ride and raise but they
didn’t always belong here nor were the large steeds that they are today.
They originated from a place called the Dutch Netherlands that bordered the North Sea of
Terra. In search of more coin, they loaded the horses onto a ship bound for a horse fair in
another country. The seas were fine for a time until the night of the storm.” Her voice
continued as the sea churned and the storm grew worse.
“During storms it is possible for a gate to be formed between other worlds and Arlsyn,
and on such a night one formed, pulling the ship, sailors and cargo from the world they
knew to the Dawn Sea and still the seas churned, until the ship wrecked upon the beach.
Few of the handlers survived, but none of the horses perished. The Shroudlings took an
instant love to the Friesian and welcomed them and their handlers with opened arms.”
Slender fingers slipped from the globe, returning the image. “Because the Shrouldings
size the horses were bred larger.”
"And thus began the love affair between Shroudling and horse," Rashid concluded. He
smiled at Ithilcalien.
"It is an interesting story. Are there many other globes like this in the gardens?
“There are, here and in the outer gardens, all containing different snippets of history and
some containing legends.” Ithil smiled, “There are smaller ones used in the libraries and
some that are used for private use.”
"They're fascinating," Rashid said. "I will have to keep my eyes open for some of the
others as we walk through the gardens, but how do they work?"
“The memory is captured or planted into the crystal by either being in area while the
event is taking place, taking it to the place after event and impressing the memories into
the sphere, or in this case, there was a mage present while someone who witnessed the
event gave a description of the events and were in turn turned into images by the mage.”
Ithil replied, in her element with the conversation.
Rashid nodded thoughtfully. "Impressive," he said when she finished speaking. "Most
impressive. It must take a considerable amount of work to create such a detailed
representation."
“They have to be a well accomplished mage as well as a scholar.” Ithil placed her hands
behind her back unknowingly. “In turn each of them specialize in some aspect of the
process.”
"So does it require more than one to complete the process if they specialize in that way?"
Rashid asked. His eyes were lit with a mixture of both amusement and interest. He found
it rather endearing when Ithilcalien went into her scholarly mode, but at the same time he
usually found what she had to say genuinely interesting too.
“Occasionally,” Ithil replied, “if the event is large scale then several mages are used with
each one having a specific piece to work on. Then there are the far more intricate ones.
With these its best to have only one specialist so that there are no differences, even ones
that aren’t noticed by most.”
"Fascinating," Rashid murmured. He glanced over at Ithil.
"Could you make something like that?"
“I…um…I suppose if I was trained in it. I could certainly try.” Ithil smiled hesitantly,
“My talents run more towards weaponry.” The irony of that fact made her laugh.
"In what way?" Rashid asked, intrigued by this new insight. If he had had to guess, he
would not have picked weaponry as Ithilcalien's particular forte.
“My father believes its because of my mother’s gift as a battle mage merged with the
elemental talents of my Silverleaf heritage. I’m not sure how to explain it. My element is
metal but I seem to be able to control those that have been forged. I draw the weapon’s
soul out.”
Ithil tilted her head as an idea came to mind.
“Do you have a blade on you?” It was often hard for her to explain what she could do and
much easier to show it.
Rashid drew a knife from his belt and offered it, hilt-first, to Ithilcalien. His dark eyes
held an expression of keen interest.
The elven woman nodded her thanks as her fingers curled around the hilt.
The blade was old, the spirit within slumbering deeply but with her touch it stirred within
and for a moment, if one looked closely, the metal moved as if a heart beat within it. The
heart beat settled and the metal reflected a light that came from no where.
“Stop showing off, old one,” Ithil scolded gently and placed the tip of the blade on her
finger tip. The blade spun slowly then picked up speed; the golden –copper hand that it
rested upon fell away to leave the blade hovering in the air.
Ithilcailen’s dark eyes met Rashid’s, an impish light flaring to life within them as she
spun away, golden skirts flaring out in the movement.
Rashid’s knife followed, entering into a dance with the scholar of its own free will, the
remembrance of the ping of hammers and the whoof of the bellows being the beat.
Rashid's breath caught as he watched her. He remembered the first time they had met and
how he had enticed her to dance with him at the Eid ul-Nar celebrations. She had been
poetry in motion and he had been enthralled. He had thought she was beautiful then and
he thought she was beautiful now, her skirts and her ebony hair swirling about her as she
twirled and spun. He did not think he would ever tire of watching her dance.
Laughter escaped her as Ithilcalien slowed, the music that the knife provided slowing as
it had been put into slumber by the forging. The blade hung in the air then floated to her
hand to land as lightly as a feather.
Slender fingers brushed over the metal, a soft smile on her lips as she did so, urging the
spirit back to sleep.
“I think it’s tired,” she said as she walked across the grass on bare feet to offer Rashid’s
knife back to him.
"I'm not surprised," he said and smiled. Taking the knife from her, his fingers lingered on
the blade. He could swear that he could still feel something of the warmth with which it
had glowed under her urging.
"That was beautiful, Ithil."
“Thank you,” she replied, her face, for once, not colouring at the compliment as she
busied herself with getting her hair more under control. “It’s suppose to be a battle gift,
but I’ve learned to use it for other activities as well.”
"What sort of things can you use it for?" he asked.
He gestured as if to suggest they continue their tour of the gardens, "shall we?"
Ithil smiled as she nodded, her skirts swishing around her ankles as they walked.
“I’ve helped my uncle move metallic liquids that would be dangerous to move
otherwise.” A devilish smile touched her lips, “And a prank or two on my siblings.”
"Now why doesn't that last surprise me?" Rashid teased her gently. His dark eyes were
filled with humour. "What sort of pranks did you use to play on your poor, unsuspecting
siblings?"
Dark eyes widened innocently at Rashid’s comment before Ithil finally laughed. “Well,
there was this one time that I caused the ink of the pen that Apolla was using to harden
inside it and when she tried to peek inside of it to find out what was the matter I made it
spray all over her face. Which probably wasn’t very nice of me,” she said, shrugging her
shoulders.
“I caused Adaron’s sword to play cat and mouse with him.” She added.
"I almost feel sorry for them," Rashid said in an amused voice. "Especially Adaron, it
must have been difficult for him to deal with so many troublesome sisters." He cast her a
mischievous glance.
“Troublesome?” Ithil eyed Rashid with mock anger. The fact that it was rather difficult
to anger her made it even more fake, and amusing.
“You just wait until we go home, I’ll show you troublesome. I’m sure Lilith will be
happy to help me.”
"Of that I have no doubt," Rashid replied. His dark eyes twinkled. "Lilith needs little
encouragement in that regard, and Jezria is not a great deal better."
Laughing, Ithil tucked her hand in Rashid’s arm. “They only wish to keep you on your
toes,” she said as calmly as possible. “We all do really. It helps keep you out of the
kitchen.”
"Yes, the three of you ensure I am well aware of my failings in that regard," Rashid said.
He winked at her to let her know that he was not truly upset. "I am sure that my spirit
should be crushed by your obvious lack of faith in my culinary talents."
“It’s not a failing, it’s a lack of knowledge.” Ithil nodded sagely then laughed.
Smiling, she leaned in to kiss his cheek. “What can I do to make sure your spirit isn’t
crushed? It’s not a spirit I wish to see crushed.”
"Well, that kiss helped a great deal," Rashid replied. A rakish smile slashed across his
dark features and his eyes twinkled.
“It did?” Ithil asked with perfect innocence. “That is good,” she said with a nod, her
innocent expression completely ruined by her eyes dancing with laughter.
Rashid laughed. Sliding one arm about Ithilcalien's waist, he bent his head to kiss her.
"You are a terrible minx," he said in amusement.
Laughter escaped her and she turned her face upwards and returned Rashid’s kiss. “I’ve
been called only a few things but minx is a new one.”
"Ah, but is that because it has never been recognised before or because you are only a
minx with me?" he asked in an amused voice.
Ithil’s dark eyes widened in surprise at the idea that she’d always been a minx. “I don’t
know.”
Rashid smiled. "Then you will have to give the matter due consideration," he said. He
looked up.
"Is that building over there the one we are aiming for?"
“Which building?” Ithil asked a little confused. There were several different buildings
after all and Rashid seemed to have a talent for leaving her a little fuzzy headed.
"That one," Rashid said, pointing.
“Actually, that’s a bed room.” Ithil replied just short of giggling. “There are four ground
level bed rooms for guests. The family living quarters are just beyond the gazebo.”
"Ah," Rashid said, and nodded. Now that she had explained, he could see what she
meant.
"The guest rooms must have a very pleasant view of the gardens."
“They do though I haven’t been in them since I was a child.” Ithil replied.
"No?" Rashid was surprised. "Why not?"
“They were fun to hide away in when I was little, but hiding spots, when used over and
over, seem to lose their hiding ability.” Ithil smiled fondly at the memory. “But in time
hiding in the guest rooms from nurses wasn’t nearly as interesting as hiding away in the
libraries or in my room.”
Rashid smiled. "Now that I can believe," he said. "Libraries seem like your natural
milieu. I can only be grateful that you ventured out long enough to accompany your sister
to Eid ul-Nar that time."
A soft smile touched Ithilcalien’s lips at the mention of when they first met and she found
herself laying her head against Rashid’s shoulder. “It is perhaps a good thing that I’m
curious.”
"It was definitely a good thing," he assured her softly. He smiled down at her, his arm
tightening gently about her waist. "I can still remember the way you looked that night.
You were so beautiful that you took my breath away."
“Are you sure that wasn’t the dancing?” Ithil asked, looking up with a smile. “I
remember you dancing fairly…distractingly,” she finished, eyes sparkling with gentle
laughter.
"Your dancing perhaps," Rashid teased. "That would distract any man."
“There’s only one I want to distract,” Ithil admitted with an impish grin as she pulled
away. Her eyes sparkling as her hips swayed from side to side.
"And you succeed beautifully," Rashid replied. His dark eyes drifted down to the hips
that swayed so enticingly.
A shiver went up her spine at the way Rashid watched her hips and she lowered her
lashes to hide the emotions that welled up in her. “Are you hungry?”
A rakish grin swept across his tanned features. There was an innocent and a not-so
innocent response to that question. For a moment the temptation to indulge in the not so
innocent response twinkled in his dark eyes and it was easy to see where he had come by
his roguish reputation.
"I would not mind a bite to eat," he said.
Ithilcalien couldn’t help but laugh, a rich, musical sound. “I do so love you, Rashid,” Ithil
smiled and held out her hand. “Lets find you something to eat and not devour.”
Rashid's deeper laugh blending pleasantly with Ithilcalien's more musical tones. He took
the hand she offered. "By all means lead the way, bahiya."