The birth had been a hard one. The copper smell of blood still hung in the air, despite the priest's incense. Rahil examined the tiny child, born too
young. "Too young, and a girl," she thought, sighing. The sheik would be displeased. As the midwife continued cleaning the babe, she checked
the fingers and toes, all normal. Then she gently raised an eyelid... and cried out in shock. The babe's eyes were pure white. Biting her lower lip, Rahil
efficiently swaddled the newborn in clean cloths. As she turned to take the child, and her news, to the lord of the tribe, a ululating wail went up from the
women surrounding the mother, signalling that she had lost her battle with her body, the blood loss proving too much for the frail form to bear.
Rahil fastened her veil securely, and tapped at the doorpost at the entrance to the women's quarters. She whispered to the eunuch stationed there, who conducted her to the sheik, Jafar al-Badawi. "Sayyid," she said softly as she knelt with the child cradled to her chest, "The Gods have taken she who was your wife into Their care. Before that one passed, she named her girlchild, calling her Hulla." Rahil then offered the child up for view, arms extended, her eyes downcast.
The big dark man frowned down at the woman, knowing that something was amiss by the way she had approached him. "Spit it out, woman! What is it? Do not think to make me guess!"
"Sayyid, she will be called al-Darir, for she is blind."
The sheik looked down at the girlchild, his grimacing in disgust. "Useless, and she will endanger The People -- a useless mouth to feed and a constant stone to care for. Take her to the rocks and leave her!" He turned on his heel and strode away, leaving the trembling woman to follow his command.
Rahil paled, but kept her eyes downcast as she backed out of the lord's presence. "Yes, sayyid. As you command, sayyid!"
Rahil slipped out of the large tent and stepped away from the torches lighting the encampment, shivering in the cold of the desert night air. She was afraid of the night, and the beasts within the night. Skirting the encampment, her eyes noted the glow from the nearby caravansarai, where foreigners were allowed to camp far away from the tribe. The way was not well-lit, but there was enough light to guide her, and she slipped down to observe quietly.
As she neared the quiet camp, she noted a tall Halasian woman moving around the tents. She was dressed in rich robes, arcane symbols etched along the hem, but Rahil had no knowledge of such things. She saw only wealth and power. Her heart in her mouth, the small woman darted down to catch the Halasian's sleeve. "Sayyida, you must help me!"
The Halasian turned to consider the small dark desert woman. "What is it you want?" she asked awkwardly in Common, her Halasian accent prominent.
"They will kill the child! Please, I beg you, take her! She is Hulla." Rahil gasped, and thrusting the swaddled babe into the startled woman's arms, she fled into the night back to the tents of her people.
Raised among a band of traveling Halasian mages seeking wisdom and power, the child was known as Hulda, that being the nearest Halasian name to her given one. When the babe started to crawl, the eldest, Guðulfr, called his daughter Guðný to him - for it was she who had had the babe thrust into her arms. "It is time, I think, dear one. We must give her vision, so she may grow and prosper."
Guðný nodded. "Aye, father. I've been researching it. One day she will know and cast the dweomer herself. For now, I will go into her mind and place it. She will see, and see clearly. Though I cannot say with certainty if she will see as you and I do. But it will be enough to help her grow into a fine woman, my foster-daughter!"
Hulda thought a moment on how strange her life had been, a small dark woman raised among tall, pale Halasians. She missed her foster-mother Guðný, and loved Guðulfr as a grandfather. But to continue her magical studies she had come to the mages of Qeynos, and to live with her mother's cousin Sigrdrífa.
Somewhere inside her, she knew she had a small core of bitter anger and resentment at her own people, who tossed her away so casually. She had heard many a time of how she'd been given to her foster-mother by an unknown desert woman. "Was that my true mother?" Hulda muttered angrily, "To give me up like... like a sack of beans! What kind of woman would do such a thing?"
As a student of the arcane, Hulda was learning spells of awful destructive force. And she knew very well that if she did not come to terms with her angers, that her own inner demons might turn on her one day and destroy her with those same energies. Power was her goal, and she hungrily read anything and everything seeking it. At times the nature of her spells, based in disease and poison, troubled her. But they gained her power, so she studied them intensely nonetheless.
Thus it was that Hulda, after consulting with her "Aunt" Sigrdrífa, had decided that the fiery passions of Erollisi were not for her, and, with her family's blessings, pledged herself to Quellious in an effort to gain inner peace.
Rahil fastened her veil securely, and tapped at the doorpost at the entrance to the women's quarters. She whispered to the eunuch stationed there, who conducted her to the sheik, Jafar al-Badawi. "Sayyid," she said softly as she knelt with the child cradled to her chest, "The Gods have taken she who was your wife into Their care. Before that one passed, she named her girlchild, calling her Hulla." Rahil then offered the child up for view, arms extended, her eyes downcast.
The big dark man frowned down at the woman, knowing that something was amiss by the way she had approached him. "Spit it out, woman! What is it? Do not think to make me guess!"
"Sayyid, she will be called al-Darir, for she is blind."
The sheik looked down at the girlchild, his grimacing in disgust. "Useless, and she will endanger The People -- a useless mouth to feed and a constant stone to care for. Take her to the rocks and leave her!" He turned on his heel and strode away, leaving the trembling woman to follow his command.
Rahil paled, but kept her eyes downcast as she backed out of the lord's presence. "Yes, sayyid. As you command, sayyid!"
Rahil slipped out of the large tent and stepped away from the torches lighting the encampment, shivering in the cold of the desert night air. She was afraid of the night, and the beasts within the night. Skirting the encampment, her eyes noted the glow from the nearby caravansarai, where foreigners were allowed to camp far away from the tribe. The way was not well-lit, but there was enough light to guide her, and she slipped down to observe quietly.
As she neared the quiet camp, she noted a tall Halasian woman moving around the tents. She was dressed in rich robes, arcane symbols etched along the hem, but Rahil had no knowledge of such things. She saw only wealth and power. Her heart in her mouth, the small woman darted down to catch the Halasian's sleeve. "Sayyida, you must help me!"
The Halasian turned to consider the small dark desert woman. "What is it you want?" she asked awkwardly in Common, her Halasian accent prominent.
"They will kill the child! Please, I beg you, take her! She is Hulla." Rahil gasped, and thrusting the swaddled babe into the startled woman's arms, she fled into the night back to the tents of her people.
Raised among a band of traveling Halasian mages seeking wisdom and power, the child was known as Hulda, that being the nearest Halasian name to her given one. When the babe started to crawl, the eldest, Guðulfr, called his daughter Guðný to him - for it was she who had had the babe thrust into her arms. "It is time, I think, dear one. We must give her vision, so she may grow and prosper."
Guðný nodded. "Aye, father. I've been researching it. One day she will know and cast the dweomer herself. For now, I will go into her mind and place it. She will see, and see clearly. Though I cannot say with certainty if she will see as you and I do. But it will be enough to help her grow into a fine woman, my foster-daughter!"
Hulda thought a moment on how strange her life had been, a small dark woman raised among tall, pale Halasians. She missed her foster-mother Guðný, and loved Guðulfr as a grandfather. But to continue her magical studies she had come to the mages of Qeynos, and to live with her mother's cousin Sigrdrífa.
Somewhere inside her, she knew she had a small core of bitter anger and resentment at her own people, who tossed her away so casually. She had heard many a time of how she'd been given to her foster-mother by an unknown desert woman. "Was that my true mother?" Hulda muttered angrily, "To give me up like... like a sack of beans! What kind of woman would do such a thing?"
As a student of the arcane, Hulda was learning spells of awful destructive force. And she knew very well that if she did not come to terms with her angers, that her own inner demons might turn on her one day and destroy her with those same energies. Power was her goal, and she hungrily read anything and everything seeking it. At times the nature of her spells, based in disease and poison, troubled her. But they gained her power, so she studied them intensely nonetheless.
Thus it was that Hulda, after consulting with her "Aunt" Sigrdrífa, had decided that the fiery passions of Erollisi were not for her, and, with her family's blessings, pledged herself to Quellious in an effort to gain inner peace.
