Maj`Dulean Nights

Wherein a Gypsy Finds Lost Familia...
It had been many, many months since Rhana had been to the docks in Qeynos Harbor. She didn’t pay much attention as she rushed through the streets and onto the dock, turned and slipped into the Mermaid’s Lure. After arranging to get her job as an entertainer and cook back with the Captain, she slipped back out, stopping cold in her tracks.


Oh I come from a land, from a faraway place, where the caravan camels roam…
Shimmering on the edge of the dock, before the merchant booths, were several flying carpets; she’d only seen one before, in the Tower of the Three, but something was different about these. Slowly, the Ayr`dal realized that these were how everyone had been getting to Maj`dul.

The curious half elf girl made her way to the carpets, peering at them for a moment before she heard a small gasp behind her, towards the merchants’ booths. Rhana turned slowly and found herself staring at an odd human woman dressed in a familiar style.

This woman was dark skinned, tanned by the sun just as Rhana was, though admittedly, Rhana was much darker, despite her months in stasis. Her hair was dark, pulled up into a short tail at the crown of her head, her eyes dark and mysterious; but it wasn’t entirely her racial traits that made Rhana’s eyes go wide.

It was her clothing.

The woman wore sandals that were like gold, long laces crossing several times as they made their way to her knees. Her pants were cream coloured, bound with gold and deep purple decorative ropes at the knees while the waist – which hung low on her hips – was actually a decorated bikini-style accent with ornate crystal bead and bell-bead trims.

The woman wore a purple and maroon shirt that was cut high, right along her breasts, and it tied between them, with the sides and back cut elaborately to make it more like a bra with sleeves; it was adorned with brocade on the lower half of the cups, the same crystals and bell-beads along the bottom and neckline. Sleeves attached to the embroidered straps, slit down the backs and bound with the same decorative ropes her pants were.

A matching necklace adorned her neck, sitting right over her collar bones, brass and gold and jeweled with amber bits and sandstone rings, tiny bell-beads on the bottom of several of the ornate decorations. She wore delicate chain mail bracelets that covered her hand in a v down to a ring on her middle finger as well.

Staring at her just as strangely, the woman was surprised to see someone such as Rhana – it was not her curious white hair, and not her deeply tanned skin and bright emerald eyes that made this woman’s eyes just as wide.

It too was her clothing.

Rhana was clad in a similar brilliant red blouse that tied between her breasts, cut along just below them but without the extra sides and back cut-outs like the other woman’s. It was all brocade, but a sheerer type, with silvered bell-beads along the bottom and neckline. Her sleeves were more like a poet shirt’s that had slits in their sides, and only reached three-fourths of the way down her arm, the bottoms tied off with blue and green and silver ropes.

Her pants were simple black suede, the waistline low on her hips like the other woman’s pants were. Instead of the ornate pant, Rhana wore red, blue and purple chiffon scarves that each had little silver coins lining their edges. Unlike the woman, her feet were bare and slightly dirty from her wanderings in the city and Antonica.

Silver bell-beaded strands adorned her ankles and wrists and neck, each having a slight chain mail-like band across the top. Two-inch thick supple leather straps formed cuffs and bands on her upper arms, wrists, thighs and ankles with thin silver and gold stitching on them.

Where they cut off your ear, if they don’t like your face…
“How is it a kaçmak rahibe journeys within Qeynos without our knowledge,” the woman finally asked, her voice heavy with a familiar accent Rhana had not heard since the skies had fallen. “It is forbidden for any but the Safars to do so, punishable by the Death within the Valley of Sands.”

Rhana’s eyes went wider at the words she used, remembering the second language of her familia. Shaking her head, the girl nearly shouted, “Wai’! I was born in tha Thunderin’ Steppes! I ain’t naw kaçmak Rom! Eh, not exac’ly – we be cousin ta ‘em…”

The other woman canted her head slightly, dark eyes narrowing at the girl in front of her. Those dark eyes wandered over Rhana’s hair, knowing the bright white was purely unnatural, but catching the thin strands of fire ruby red in it. She turned her head slightly, lowering her eyes to look into the girl’s, finding them to be bright emerald.

“Kasko san, jel'enedra,” the Safar finally asked.

The girl nearly exploded, speaking quickly in her own language, “Mandi chev de les Sedrin de le Dest!”

After a moment of almost deafening silence, the Safar sucked in her breath, “We…we thought all were dead in the splitting of the world, jel’enedra. Your kumpania had just left the deserts of Ro when it began.”

Rhana nodded, having read everything in her Great-Aunt’s book, and replied, “Aye, many a Sedrin died tha’ day, missus, but some o’ las She' enedra de las Deram ile Rarti made it ta D’Lere, than ta tha plains o’ Karana.”

It's barbaric, but hey, it's home.
“I am Safar Tebrik Maj`dulýn,” the Safar almost whispered.

Whispering her reply, Rhana leaned forward, “Mi nom se Seve`ana de le Sedrin de le Dest.”

The Safar peered at her, raising an eyebrow as she stared at the girl before her. After a moment, she shook her head and answered, “Yok yanýtý, jel’enedra, sana se She’endra de las Deram ile Rarti – it is said, in Maj`dul, that one day we shall see le Dest again, but it shall be the Parno Chovexani who brings back their glory.”

Rhana puzzled at her answer, finding it true but not true. She recalled the words of Marjo, that any and all legend and prophecy must be read on the slant, but she didn’t believe that she’d ever be a part of one. The girl gave the woman a half hearted smile, and a nod that clearly spoke of how little she agreed or understood.

“But jel’enedra, I must warn you, Maj`dul is much fiercer than Qeynos or even Freeport,” the Safar continued in a hushed tone, looking Rhana over. “And because you look like a kaçmak rahibe, they will think you one from the outposts or from T’narev. Though you are not, they will kill you by binding you naked to the sands until you shrivel and die for violating our laws. No one will be there to speak for you, to keep you from the Death within the Valley of Sands…if you were to go now.”

“If I were to go now?” the girl asked, blinking slightly. “An’ – an’ wha’ if I were ta wait…?”

But what for…?

The Safar smiled, the warmth touching her eyes as well, “Then I shall take you to the Sinking Sands and keep you from such an ending. My word is worth more than gold in the lands of my home.”

When the wind's from the east, and the suns from the west…
Rhana sat quietly behind the Safar, leaning against the wall as she waited for their time to leave Qeynos. Her ears twitched often while listening to the tales she heard the various adventurers speaking of as the prepared to leave and returned from the mysterious deserts of Ro.

“It is the most unnatural thing, I say,” an Erudite extemporized, glyphs glowing with his words, “the winds should never be able to come from the East and yet during one of those great sand storms, they do. I’m sure there is a…”

His voice faded away as he and his companions stepped up onto a carpet and were whisked away by the winds. The Safar merely smiled brightly to each outrageous notion, and puzzled theory the travelers made, as if she knew the secrets they wished to know but knew they would not ask her.

The adventurers talked about all kinds of strange things, from mysterious Courts to how odd the sand giants were to the mystical Djinn and the infamous Twin Dragons. One man even spoke of how he nearly went blind when the sun suddenly rose from the opposite direction it did in Qeynos; his companions scoffed and muttered something about how it was merely the rays reflecting off the sands.

And the sand in the glass is right…
A few short hours later, another woman dressed in similar garb arrived, the only difference between this Safar and Tebrik were their facial structure – where Tebrik was almost feline in features, and the next Safar had a rounder face with larger cheeks and curves.

Rhana looked up, watching the two of them for a moment before she spied an hourglass by Tebrik’s feet. The sand had run out, and as the first Safar moved towards Rhana, the second turned the glass over and took her place.

“It is time, jel’enedra,” Tebrik said quietly, her hand extending to help Rhana stand. The two clasp one another at the wrists, and soon the girl was standing. Looking her over again, the Safar noted how thin and gaunt she was, questioning how Qeynos treated the gypsies.

Hand entwined with Rhana’s, Tebrik lead the girl over to the shimmering carpets, and motioned to one of them before asking, “Ever been on one before?”

When Rhana shook her head, the Safar nodded and helped her sit down on the strange tapestry before standing behind her. It took a few minutes for the woman to test and find the right balance, but Rhana was distracted by the pattern of the weave.

Come on down, stop on by, hop a carpet and fly…
Suddenly, the carpet leapt forward and Rhana felt herself fall back against the Safar’s legs. Tebrik had expected it, her feet firmly planted on the tapestry, bracing the girl as they pair sailed through the air.

After a few moments, Rhana regained her own balance, and carefully leaned forward to hold the front edge of the carpet. Her guide adjusted her own balance, smiling slightly as the curious girl began laughing as she stared down at the shimmering waters beneath them.

To another Maj`Dulean night!
On the horizon, two great teal pillars rose up, glittering in the setting sun as if they were maid of pale jade stones. As the carpet neared them, Rhana saw that not only were they pillars, they were gracefully curving jade plated snakes. The design made it appear as if they were gliding up out of the waters and sand, elegant in their exotic setting.

The carpet weaved between the two several times before gliding between them and dropping low over what appeared to be a dock like area built into the pale jade snakes’ backs. Slowly, it made its way over to a cluster of small, brightly coloured, open air tents before settling down again.

With wide eyes and bright smile, Rhana turned to look about her; her smile fell as several men dressed in great ballooning pants with bare chests and sashes loomed over her, glaring out from beneath their turbans.

Tebrik spoke rapidly, stepping from the carpet as she did. The conversation flew quickly about Rhana’s head, and she could barely follow anything – the tongue of the desert had been a second language in her familia, and it had been years since she’d heard it spoken. The small bit she caught unsettled her, as it was the same odd words the Safar had spoken to her on the dock.

Finally, the largest of the men spoke, “Parno Chovexani, Kasko san.”

“Mandi chev de les Sedrin de le Dest,” Rhana replied immediately, “ile chev de las She' enedra de las Deram ile Rarti, derhal.”

The man nodded, and motioned to another carpet. Tebrik stood upon it, and Rhana slowly lowered herself on the carpet, kneeling and holding to the front edge. Once the girl’s back was to her, Tebrik smiled softly.

Maj`Dulean nights, like Maj`Dulean days…
Though the sun had set beneath the horizon, it was still incredibly hot in the desert. It was not the first time Rhana had been in arid lands before, however the Commonlands of D’Lere were not quite this hot, and at night it was much more tolerable. The rains of the Overlord supposedly cooled the arid wasteland off further, but she had not been able to venture there quite yet.

Her ears twitched, listening to the fading sounds of daytime in the desert to those of the night. The shift was subtle, almost unintelligible first, but slowly she heard the sound of the scarab upon the hills, and the subtle shift in the winds. She watched the sands shifting beneath them begin to settle, as the moon broke out over the horizon.

More often than not, are hotter than hot…
Somehow, the city was hotter than the dunes had been.

For such a small citadel, there were a great number of people. The great doors to the city opened once their carpet landed before them, and Rhana could see all kinds of people milling about. Some were from the mainland, clad in the typical clothing she saw around Qeynos, sticking out like sore thumbs amid the Maj`Dulean natives.

The natives…

Many wore great lengths of cloth about their heads in ornate turbans, some wore simple kerchiefs. The men all seemed to favor either ballooning pantaloons and vests or half shirts, or elaborate robes of bright colours and stitches. The women wore pants and skirts that sat low upon their hips, ballooning and loose in styles while they wore either bright coloured half shirts, tied-blouses or the bra-like blouse like Tebrik and Rhana wore. Many had scarves about their hips, with coins or bells along the edges, and all had some sort of antique looking jewelry upon them unless they were poor beggars.

In a lot of good ways!
As Tebrik lead her through the lower market, Rhana watched the men from the mainland oogle the pretty women in revealing clothing, begging for veil dances. The woman exchanged knowing smirks with each other and even gave them to Rhana and the Safar when the passed.

Eventually, one of the more portly men with an even more portly coin purse was lead off by a ravishing woman, who smirked and winked to the wide eyed Rhana as they passed.

She knew the man would die.

Maj`Dulean nights, ‘neath Maj`Dulean moons…
They ascended a set of sandstone stairs that had been carved out of the Cliffside, making their way through the thinning crowd. At the top of the stairs was the Skygazer Plateau, where philosophers and scholars and arcanists met to discuss life, love and the universe beneath brightly coloured open-air tents or the skies themselves.

Upon the plateau was an elaborate tower, and as Tebrik led her to the doors, Rhana tilted her head back to gawk at its design. Somehow, this felt more like home than Qeynos did, and she felt like she’d never leave the exotic city again.

The pair entered the Tower of the Moon, and the three Consulates turned to stare at them. Again, Tebrik quickly offered the same explanation she had on the docks, and again Rhana was made to reply to the same question. The three Consulates nodded, and lofted their eyes and hands to the platform above them.

The Safar led her up the gilded staircase that slightly spiraled as it led up to the platform. When they arrived at the platform, Rhana again stopped cold, staring in wonder at the sight before her eyes.

Within the center of the platform was a great contraption, with great bladed arms that swung about slowly. Though enthralled by the strange mechanical beauty, her mind slowly realized that she was looking at a representation of the sun, Norrath and its two moons – the scarred Luclin and the hale Drinal – and two or three other celestial entities she did not know.

The walls were giant bookcases, quite full of books and scrolls. Several desks and workbenches lined the area against them, and two men stood in the room. Tebrik spoke rapidly in hushed tones to a man she called Steward, and Rhana realized it was a title and not a name. The man looked at her, then pointed over to the other man who suddenly held a large tome.

“Take that, çaylak de Rahibea Her Iki Yüksüz Olarak ile Siyaha Yakýn,” the Steward said, “as it belongs to you and yours.”

With that, the Steward turned from them, and made his way up the next gilded staircase before he vanished. Confused, Rhana took the book and looked down at the cover, realizing it had the same symbols her Great-Aunt Marjo’s had, but on the binding rather than just drawn in the book itself. She bowed to the man several times, clutching the book to her chest before turning to smile brightly at Tebrik.

Tebrik was gone.

A fool off his guard could fall and fall hard out there on the dunes…
Rhana left the tower, and spent sometime gazing out up on the city from the lofty heights of the plateau. After some time – when she thought she’d memorized enough of the visible city, she set out to explore.

No sooner than she stepped out to wander then a shout was cried before her, and a Dervish man attacked and killed a barrashar that had doubted the man’s abilities with women.

The barrashar’s body fell at Rhana’s feet and her eyes opened wide with fear. The Dervish sheathed his blade, grabbing her roughly and forcing a savage kiss upon her lips before dropping her to the ground beside the body. Her eyes even wider, she looked up with shock, and the Dervish man nodded, thinking he had amazed her with his tongue, and walked away.

Rhana looked down at the body and whispered, “All this fer a damn mirror.”

[OOC: That's right, I just EQ filked Disney. The bold italic text are modified lyrics from the ORIGINAL, UN-POLITICALLY CORRECT version of Arabian Nights from the movie Aladdin. And now it'll be stuck in your heads...]



Wherein a Gypsy Finds a Second Home...and Her Mirror...
After she’d regained her composure, she wandered back down to the market place, watching the merchants haggle with the mainlanders, realizing quickly that many of them were swindling the visitors. These made her smirk slightly, recalling the times when she and her familia had done the same to some poor gaje that happened to catch their eye.

She found the snake charmer, watching him use his Ney to draw the serpents from their baskets and then dance about. The book securely strapped to her back, Rhana stepped lightly amid the snakes, dancing in time with the charmer’s music. Several shadow snakes rose up, created by her own charms, to dance with their light asp partners. The charmer smiled, amused by the girl’s tricks, and the coin that it garnered from the passing barrashar.

Not direly in need of coin, she left all of it for the charmer and wandered back up to the plateau. She again studied the city quickly before making her way across the bridge to the gigantic building that a skygazer had called the Sultan’s Palace.

The building itself was huge, stretching back for quite a ways, and it took Rhana a few minutes to walk from the side near the bridge to the other. As she neared the other side, she noticed a bunch of men gambling in the corner of the massive yard, screaming and shouting and threatening each other. She decided to not call attention to herself, hugging the wall of the palace with her side and slipping past them to the stairs.

She studied the beautiful sandstone and teal patterns, wandering down them slowly, hugging the wall so that the barrashar could rush past her and the patrols could move freely. The Bladesmen smiled at the small girl, though their leader chided them for such kindness while on duty – even if she was a schej!

Finding a tower full of the Bladesmen, she stopped to listen to their chatter. The men spoke of something called the Saracen, and how it had won something; they talked of the games and knowing sure bets, as all men do when they gamble. But one said something that stuck out in Rhana’s mind.

“Anyone find out who’s been leading the Tears assassins yet?” one blathered, “That guy must be rich by now!”

Quietly, the girl made her way to the next set of stairs and downward to another courtyard with a smaller building in its center. This was the Court of Truth, and she was greeted kindly by several of their patrons. She watched the pit fighters as they practiced, recalling when the men would battle for a bone or stick to see whom could claim it without breaking it.

As she wandered through the vast Court of Truth and the tower it, she again heard talk of this Saracen, only this time a Truth guard claimed someone – a female perhaps – named Ishara shall end his streak.

The Court of Truth gave way to the Court of Blades, and Rhana wandered quietly through the militaristic place. She passed a great crowd of the Saracen’s fans, and slipped down the tunnel to the Gilded Twilight Terrace.

Again she paused, gaping as she looked about her. There were brightly coloured open-air tents with fortune tellers who shouted out the things her familia once had to attract their customers. She watched one woman take the hand of a barrashar, turning it over to stare at his palm.

Rhana felt her own hands lift, as if holding someone’s hand the same way, only she didn’t have to turn it over…whoever it was, they always handed it to her palm up so she could see it.

Shaking her head, she made her way into the open courtyard, blinking slightly as she saw it filled with very affluent men and women. The men were overly dressed, looking much like she imagined the Sultan would, except in different materials. The women were all dressed like Tebrik had been, only their fabrics were quite a bit more lavish than the Safar’s had been.

After leaving the Gilded Twilight, she found a pen full of strange beasts. A passing citizen explained that they were camels, and that the odd humps on their back stored water so they could make long treks through the desert without need to stop for sometime. The citizen bragged that these camels could make it clear to the oasis and beyond before needing water, however Rhana had no idea where or what the oasis was.

The camels, of course, belonged to the Court of Coin. The building they were attached to was the central building for the Court, and Rhana hurried past as the guards leered at her. Everyone around her seemed to be…greedy, wishing to have more coin or take advantage of the next barrashar they saw.

She wandered their market, looking over the wares with a slight frown, adjusting the book on her back so that it was more comfortable. There was another snake charmer there, but she did not dance with him and his snakes as she had the first – he seemed quite a bit more full of himself than the first had, and the girl cursed him that his snakes would turn on him before she left.

In the market there was a large building with an arched terrace at the top of the stairway. The girl made her way into the archway to avoid a Sha’ir that was flying past, still unnerved by the patrolmen of the skies despite not having done anything wrong. It was then she noticed how quiet the area had gotten, how many of the people paused to stare before moving on.

She wished that she could cover the book on her back – she was sure they had seen it as she walked up the stairs. For a moment, she wondered how much they knew about it and what they wanted; then she wandered if it was because she looked like them, except for her startling white hair.

Finally, she turned and entered the building behind her, gasping as she saw its finery after making her way through the entryway.

A large fountain was placed in the center of the room, and many finely clothed Maj`Duleans wandered about the area. The entire room was bright white, as if they had polished the sandstone until it glittered. Walls were plated with gold and brass, imprinted with designs while the floor was tiled brightly.

Rhana realized this was the real tradesmen’s’ market, and curled up on a set of pillows near the fountain and watched them with great interest. She knew she could find a mirror here that would suit her purposes, but she wasn’t quite sure how to approach any of the merchants, as they all seemed to be powerful and affluent.

There was a touch on her shoulder, and Rhana turned to see a man clad in an elaborate green and chartreuse robe. He gently pulled his hood down and looked at her with dark eyes, his elaborate goatee sparkling with fine diamond dust.

“What is it you seek, çaylak,” he asked gently, smiling to her.

After a few seconds, Rhana replied quietly, “Ayna, sahip, ayna.”

With a broader smile, the man placed his hand on her shoulders, just above the book, and led her to a pair of haggling merchants. Raising his hand, he paused their banter, and spoke rapidly to them before they all looked down at the girl with him. The man in the elaborate robe motioned to the pair as he looked at her, prompting her to ask them.

“Ayna, sahips,” she murmured, turning the book’s harness so they could see it as well, “with these symbols on either side, gönlünü etmek.”

The pair looked at each other and immediately began arguing over which would make the mirror. After a moment, they both turned and nearly shouted at her, “Fiyat!”

“Beþ altýn, sahips,” she whispered.

One merchant turned in disgust, as if her meager price was far to low for his skills; the other – a woman – smiled faintly and nodded, holding her hand out for the coin. Rhana looked up at the man in the green robe, unused to handing over her coin before being given her wares. He nodded gently, and the girl positioned the book on her back before digging in a hip pouch for the coin and handing it over to the merchant.

“Bir saat,” she said, moving behind her to sketch the symbols.

Before she left, she called out, “Destroy that when you finish, gönlünü etmek!”

The man in the green robe had already moved on, and she was left standing alone. She left the traders’ palace, and wandered through the streets for a short time. After going up a stair out of the market, she found a few homes for rent, and on whimsy she decided to look at them.

They were small, two bedroom affairs, much like the ones in the inns in Qeynos, however their white walls with dark teal trim made them seem a little larger. She decided she’d waste her hour by looking at all the houses and apartments she could find in the city, though it would be a good deal of time before she could afford them.

For some reason, she couldn’t stop thinking about her own apartment, and she realized that anywhere else she went wouldn’t hold the same comforting and happy feeling she had when she was there.

Soon the time came, and Rhana made her way back to the palace of merchants to meet the mirror-maker. When she arrived, she found her standing with a large man clad in the vestments she recalled Tarack being drawn in. In the corner of the room, the merchant lifted the cloth away from the full-length mirror to show her his work, the symbols engraved into its sides flawlessly.

Rhana looked around to be sure no one else saw the mirror and nodded slightly; sensing her discomfort, the merchant quickly clothed it again, binding it shut with pretty ropes she could use to hang it later.

“He will carry this to Qeynos for you, çaylak,” she said, motioning to the monk beside her. As if it were a command, the man lifted the mirror up and silently moved two steps behind Rhana, just slightly to her left. He carried it as if it were a holy relic, which gave her comfort since to her kind, it was.

“Teþekkür,” she said, bowing to the merchant before turning away.

Quietly, the merchant replied, “Yok, teþekkür çaylak.”

Unsettled by the response, the girl left the gilded palace of merchants, and she walked through the streets almost unaware of her companion that carried her precious relic. Her head down, lost in thought, she didn’t even noticed the natives moving aside for them as if she too were one of their upper-caste.

“All this, fer a mirror…”