Xilanada - Unforsakable Birthright/Part 2

Passion Blue Stirred was once as striking and appealing as her name. That had been sixty years ago, though, and while time had been kind, that kindness was relative. Most days, her joints didn't ache. Her eyes were still clear and sharp enough. Sharp enough for cleaning the Six Poses of Lightning, the school of magic she took care of.

Today, they were sharp enough to pick out the woman lying in a puddle on the street.

She took her time getting closer to get more detail. Didn't cost anything, since the girl's position was on her way home anyway. Red silk, yes. Courtesan or an expensive whore. Yes, definitely a whore. Not the clothes one of the nobility would wear, no, not something anyone but a whore would wear. Pretty little thing though. Not very big. She was maybe 19 or 20, but she looked like 16. And despite her womanly curves, she was the size of a 14 year old. Not abnormally small, just very petite.

Passion paused as she reached the body. The smart thing to do would be to just move along. Certainly everyone else about was avoiding the body, avoiding even the hint of noticing it, trusting that the streetcleaners guild would take care of it. Even the temptation of the silk wasn't drawing interest for some reason.

Maybe that was what prompted her to reach down and feel the girl's skin. Either way, Passion discovered the young woman was still alive. And that complicated things.

Passion liked to pretend she was just like everyone else in Nexus. Indifferent and street savvy, able to watch out for herself and concerned only with her own skin. But the Six Poses of Lightning had changed her. Working in the school, with all the children...had brought out something in her. Though only a lowly cleaning servant, as she had been all her life, she had always been treated with respect by the children there. And especially by the staff.

Maybe that was why this young girl who could have been attending the school herself, she was of an age, inspired sympathy. Maybe. Passion smiled down at the unconscious woman and shook her head slowly, at herself and the situation more so than this poor victim.

"Come, sweetie, wake up. Come on." She shook her gently, turning her over. Passion sighed once as she saw the black bruising across the side of her face. Someone had treated this young thing harshly, though there was little sign of other mistreatment.

"Come on then, time to wake up. I'm too old to carry you." Passion checked her eyes and much of her sympathy drained away as she noted the unusual dilation of the girl's pupils. Drugs. Living in Nexus could drive many to various vices, but Passion had never been coward enough to look for a way out like that. She certainly had little compassion for misfortune brought to people by it.

"Still...alive," the girl whispered weakly. She closed her eyes.

Like that, was it? If you did enough drugs, you could push your life far enough away that you couldn't find your way back.

Then the girl opened her eyes again and focused, though it was clearly with some effort. She struggled to rise and dropped back to the ground, clearly quite dazed still. "Old woman...why does my...why can't I see you?"

"I'm sure it has nothing to do with what you've taken," Passion said, reluctant to leave now the girl was talking yet annoyed that her conscience had tricked her into a situation she didn't want to be in.

"No...not drugs...poisoned," the girl whispered.

"Poison? Oh dear." That did change things. It raised Passion's ire. Nexus was bad enough with its casual cruelty that seeing deliberate cruelty made Passion angry. "Come with me. I'll help you up, help you walk. Do I need to take you to an herbalist? Oh, I know an excellent one, over where I work, at the School of the Six Poses of Lightning."

"No...I just need rest. I'll be fine. Just rest." She seemed clearer, but still her eyes did not seem to see Passion.

"Here, take my hand...there you go, up on your feet. There. My name is Passion. What's yours?"

"...Xilanada."

"Zy'lan'nah'da?" Passion asked, struggling over the unusual name.

"Close enough."

"Well, I'll just take you home and put you to bed. Work was light so it won't be too much trouble to care for you tonight. Tomorrow, we'll talk more. Now, come with me."

Xilanada was not very steady on her feet, but between the two they managed to hobble along. For a span of time, Passion worried and fretted about being assaulted. An old woman and a whore in silk made for easy pickings, especially limping along as they were. But as the minutes passed, she began to think they might make it.

At last, Passion reached the small home she kept for herself. Though the Six Poses of Lightning offered her free quarters, she enjoyed living on her own. This was the place she and her husband had lived in for 37 years. She was poor enough she couldn't afford more, but her needs were simple and what the school paid her went to keeping it up.

Xilanada leaned against the wall as Passion fumbled with the lock, at last getting the stubborn old thing open. For a moment, shame tumbled through her as she looked at the expensive red silks on the whore, worth more than her whole home was. It only took remembering why the woman wore that silk to regain her pride, though. Besides, who was helping who?

Passion helped Xilanada to her small bed in the corner and tucked her in. Almost immediately, the whore was asleep. Lying there, so pale and pretty, she looked like a statue or a life-sized doll. How many men had slacked their lust on her, precisely because of that look?

Busying herself about the house, Passion considered her strange visitor. It bothered her, women selling themselves. It cheapened the worth of all women, when some traded their charms for coins instead of only giving it for love. Yet there had been a kind of distracted innocence in the girl's blue eyes, clouded as they were.

A simple stew began to cook slowly in its pot as Passion tended the fire, swept the floor, and set to washing her meager clothing. As the stew neared its completion, she saw to a little bit of sewing that needed doing. Quick work, then time for a bowl. It was savory, as the School paid well enough for her to afford a few comforts.

Setting the empty dish aside, she looked at the sleeping girl and decided to risk waking her for some food. Passion had already helped her this much. What harm could there be in sharing what she had?

"Xilanada...wake a little, girl, you could stand something to eat. You look like you could use it."

Indeed she did. Looking at her sleeping face, Passion could see what she had not seen before. Deep, deep weariness and the signs of poor health. That pale porcelain skin that made her look so doll-like revealed this close a woman who had been recently sick. Perhaps still was. Poison?

"Xilanada, come girl. Wake."

The girl stirred a little. With her eyes still closed, her breathing still slow...she murmured in her sleep. At first, the words were impossible to make out. And then, to Passion's horror, they became all too clear.

"Coil...the flanks are falling...the Realm is too strong...I underestimated them. ...Pull back...leave the field...because, Coil, I'm dooming them all to destruction."

"Destruction?" Passion whispered, fearful at the unnatural sleeptalk.

"They thought the Final Starry Night...could be turned aside. ...I will not...I will not be stopped...death to them all!"

"The Destroyer?" Passion breathed. The words were nonsensical, with just enough meaning to make her shiver. But the name of the Final Starry Night was known to her. It was known to everyone in the whole of the East. The Unclean Anathema. The conqueror of Nathir. And the Destroyer, the victor of the Battle for Grey Falls, if anyone could be called the victor of that madness of a slaughter.

What did this mean? By the Powers of Heaven, what did any of it mean? Was this woman...somehow a witness of the Battle for Grey Falls? Or was she mad? Or stoned out of all intelligibility?

"...the blood...please...Father, what have I done? ...I killed them all...I killed so many people...Father!" Xilanada's voice grew louder in pitch until she woke suddenly to stare at Passion. Such pain and fury filled the woman's eyes that Passion had to step back, had to look away or be seared to ash.

"I'm sorry!" she said with a sob, and though her gaze was clear, it was equally clear she was not seeing anything in this world. "Forgive me...all of you..."

And at that, Xilanada's eyes grew wide, her mouth forming a perfect O. Just as quickly, her eyes lost focus again and the weariness so plain upon her swept her under, dragging her back into sleep, to tremble fitfully on the bed.