Early Summer, 4704 (Korvosa)

It was really just dumb luck. Kali was idling around an artists’ stall in the Gold Market while her mom shopped for some fresh produce when a boy maybe a couple of years younger than her caught her eye. He had the look of a Shingles kid. Kali had been to Korvosa often enough that she could generally pick them out even when they were “cleaned up” enough to prowl the crowded streets for easy marks, and sure enough, she saw him move in behind a tall, wiry man with short black hair that was not paying close enough attention to his coin purse.

Kali watched him bungle the theft. Just as he reached for the small, leather pouch, the black-haired man stepped back unexpectedly and the boy bumped into him.

“Excuse me! I’m sorr…Hey! THIEF!”

The boy had made the best of the situation by just yanking the coin purse away and bolting. He had the advantages of a head start and a bustling crowd where no one knew what was happening.

Except for Kali, who watched it all unfold. The boy’s escape route would bring him right by the stall where she was standing. He was so focused on getting out of the plaza and into the streets—and away from his pursuer—that he didn’t notice her at all, the only face in the crowd ahead that was staring directly at him. She stepped into his path as he darted around an elderly woman, brought up her foot, and sent him sprawling onto the pavement. The coin purse flew out of his hand.

And that should have been the end of it.

Two days later (Korvosa)

Kali allowed some fear to show on her face. That was probably for the best since it was what they were expecting to see and she didn’t want to make this worse. In all honestly, she wasn’t really all that worried: it was the middle of the day, plenty of people saw them jump her, and it sounded like one or two had even gone for help, so whatever these kids were going to do it was going to have to be fast. And, most important, they hadn’t pulled out anything lethal.

She just wanted them to get it over with, really, but showing indifference would send the wrong message. Life was hard among the Shingles: you weren’t just impoverished, you were also at risk from the imp, spiders, and everything else that stalked the rooftop. To survive that, especially as a kid, you had to be clever or tough; preferably both. The last thing she wanted to do was give them an excuse to have to prove this to her. She already expected this to be bad.

So she was completely shocked when the first punch landed in her abdomen. So shocked that she almost forgot to crumple forward in response. Are…are they trying to knock the wind out of me? This wasn’t how things went back home. If Ianca or the twins were to ever trap her like this, they would just get to the point, and likely break her nose (or try to, at any rate).

Kali let her legs give out and she sagged forward, forcing the two boys holding her up to support her full weight. Not prepared for this, they chose to drop her to the ground, instead, and she curled up into a protective ball. A part of her appreciated the irony of this situation. For two years, now, she’d been the subject of regular poundings, and for the first time she was getting one that she had actually earned, and this is what it amounted to.

They started kicking her—painfully hard, she had to admit—along her back, arms, and legs. She withdrew into herself, drawing upon all she had learned over the past year and a half from studying Unbinding the Fetters, and found a center of calm inside her own thoughts. The blows slowly receded into the distance until they were inseparable from her body’s own rhythms, and the pain faded with them. There was no sensation and no time, just the regular thump-thump of her heart beating.

And then the kicking stopped. She expanded her awareness, opening up to let in the world around her. She heard the oldest boy talking, saying something to her about having taught her a lesson. About interfering? Or something. A lesson? she thought. I get worse beatings twice a month just for breathing. From kids half your size. Part of her found the whole thing kind of pathetic and sad. But she wisely said nothing, instead laying motionless on the ground. It’s what they expected, after all.

She heard their lookout shout a warning followed by the sound of them scattering, then some new voice yelling something she couldn’t make out. Heavy boots ran past. She opened her eyes and lifted her head just in time to see a large figure crouching down next to her. He was dressed in the gray uniform of the Korvosan Guard.

“Miss! Can you hear me? Are you hurt?”

Kali sat up, said “I’m fine. Thank you,” smiled weakly at him, and started rummaging through the folds of her sari for her pouch.

“Young lady, I saw what they were doing to you. Are you sure you are not hurt?”

“Hmm? Oh. Yeah. They were kicking me,” came her distracted reply.

The guard looked incredulous. “It seemed much worse than that! We should—”

“They didn’t hit my head. And I’m not bleeding. And nothing’s broken.”

Kali stood, holding the pouch she had pulled from inside her clothes.

He stood up beside her, looking concerned. “I don’t think you should be getting up just yet.”

“What? Why not?” She pulled a small vial out of the pouch and removed the stopper. There was some writing in Tien on the label stuck to the glass. The guardsman just stared at her, bewildered, as his partner, a woman with short black hair, came running up to them.

“I couldn’t catch any of them. How is she?”

“I’m fine,” Kali said, downing the vial’s contents. She immediately felt the aches, bruises and scrapes vanish.

“What was that?” the woman asked.

“Just a healing potion.”

“You just said you were—”

“I don’t want to be sore tomorrow. And covered in bruises.”

The two guards looked at each other as Kali put her pouch away. There was faint tinkle of glass as she did so.

“Why…? Wait. Just how many of those do you have?”

“Only the three.” Kali frowned briefly. “Well, two, now.”

They looked at each other again. This time, the man spoke. “Are your parents nearby?”

Kali started brushing the dirt off of her clothes as best she could. “Hmm? Oh. Probably. Why?”

“We should talk to them! Tell them what happened to you!”

“What? Why? They’ll just worry.”

The guards exchanged inscrutable looks. Kali ignored them as she finished tidying up. She’d need to find a shop with a mirror to fix her hair before getting back to her grandparents’ home, but this was good enough for now. She bowed slightly to them and said, “Thank you for running them off. I don’t enjoy being kicked.”

Then she walked away, leaving them standing in the alley.

§

Summer, 4702

“Gods, Kali! What happened?”

Kali shook her head but said nothing. Ameiko could see she had been crying: her eyes were puffy and red, and there were smears of dirt on her face where she had been wiping away tears.

“You’re bleeding.”

Kali nodded her head twice, but still stared silently at the ground, not looking at anything at all. Ameiko, concerned, sat down beside her to get a closer look at the cut on her left cheek. It was still weeping but for the most part, it looked like it had clotted.

In a whisper, so soft Ameiko almost couldn’t hear it, Kali said to her, “I can’t go home like this.”

“I’ll walk with you to the cathedral. What’s left—”

“NO!” she yelled out suddenly, startling Ameiko. “I am not going there again.”

Ameiko thought about this for a moment, remembering how that had gone the last time, then said, “Yeah, OK. Niska then. Or Koya.”

Kali was silent for a while but eventually nodded her head and stood up. They would ask questions, too, but they wouldn’t try to get involved.

Ameiko got up with her and they walked slowly into town.

“Kali?” she asked tentatively after they had been walking for a couple of minutes.

“What?”

“Tell me.”

They were laying in wait for her as she rounded the corner of the tannery on her way to the bridge. Marlena and Ianca stepped out from behind the building and blocked her path.

“Where are you going, Kaaalllli?” Marlena drew her name out in a patronizing tone.

Kali turned to run, but found Dimir was just a few paces behind her. She hadn’t even known he was back there. She spun back around looking for another way to get out of this: the tannery was to her right, the ridge to the boneyard at her left…and then she realized there were more than three of them.

“Hey! I asked you where you were going!” Marlena said sharply, shoving Kali’s shoulders. She stumbled back a couple of steps, and someone—she assumed Dimir—shoved her forward again. She saw one of the Theern twins on her left now, and two more girls out of the corner of her eye on her right. They had her trapped in a circle.

“I said, ‘Where. Are. You. Going?'” Marlena shoved her a second time, only much harder, and Kali staggered backwards. Then she was roughly shoved again, sending her across to someone else, and then again and again until she lost count, followed shortly by her balance. She remembered falling down, and the impact of something hard to her cheek.

Kali looked up to see Marlena looming over her. She was saying something, but Kali wasn’t listening: the space that Marlena left in the circle had Kali’s complete attention. Marlena pivoted around to address her chorus; Kali’s fingers closed around sand and gravel. When Marlena turned back, the handful of shot was already on it’s way to her face.

Before Marlena’s shock could turn to rage, Kali leapt to her feet and bolted through the gap. No one even tried to stop her. They just stood there, dumbfounded.

It took less than half an hour. Koya’s spells not only healed Kali’s cut and scrapes, but also mended the tears in her clothes. When Koya was done, and Kali had cleaned up, there was not even a hint as to what had happened.

“You should tell your parents, child. I know you won’t, but you should.”

“I can’t,” Kali said quietly.

“It will just make it worse,” Ameiko added.

“They need to know. And you should trust them,” came Koya’s reply, but she didn’t press it further.

Ameiko walked Kali home. They made the journey in silence and it wasn’t until her house was in sight that Kali finally spoke.

“Thank you.”

Ameiko stopped them both and gave Kali a hug. “You’re welcome,” she replied. As they pulled apart, Ameiko looked at Kali, her expression very serious. “What you did…Marlena…she’s going to make you pay for that. You know that, right?”

Kali nodded solemnly.

“I can help.”

§

Mid-Gozran, 4700 (Korvosa)

Kali had been tossing and turning under the covers for over an hour because sleep just would not come. Every time she felt herself slipping under, her mind would start racing and she’d be awake and staring at the walls. Again.

It didn’t help that the Flood Moon was shining through the window directly onto her bed. Her room at her grandparents’ house was on the second floor and faced southeast, providing a grand view of Midland, the Jeggare River, and East Shore beyond. Normally, that was a breathtaking sight, but right now she just wanted the light out of her eyes. So she got out of bed, walked over to the window and pulled the curtains shut. As the room darkened she became aware of voices coming from downstairs.

I will never get to sleep, she thought.

The voices grew louder, briefly, and then quieted down quickly. Another argument?

She opened the door slowly and checked the hallway: it was empty. Down below, the voices grew louder and then cut off abruptly for a second time.

Kali quietly and cautiously crept down the stairs.

“—barely 10 years old. She’s still a child, for gods’ sake!”

“It’s still Midland, mom, not The Shingles.”

Kali sighed to herself. Mom and grandma, at it again.

Her grandmother snorted, loudly and derisively. “West Dock. Close enough! A bunch of thieves and laborers. And you want to take her there.”

Their voices quieted again and Kali couldn’t make out what was said after that. She risked tiptoeing down the last few steps to the main floor. She could hear her grandfather’s words now.

“—about Kali’s safety? She can’t protect herself.”

His words stung. Kali had a large scab on her forehead, still, from the previous week. Marlena and Ianca had cornered her, and when Kali finally got away she ran half-panicked and tripped. It was just a scrape, but it was large, and it was taking too long to heal, and of course her grandparents had fretted over it. They, too, thought she was fragile and she resented it.

“They’re friends, dad. They have been for years. That hasn’t changed.”

Her grandmother spoke again.

“And what about what she’ll say? You shouldn’t expose your daughter—my granddaughter—to that.”

“Not expose her to what, mom? The world?”

Another long silence. Uncomfortably long.

Her father’s voice broke it. “She will find out soon enough. They are to return to Sandpoint in the coming weeks. But right now, Qatana is here, and she wishes to—”

And that’s as far as Akmal got because at the sound of Qatana’s name, Kali burst into the sitting room.

“What do you mean, ‘Qatana is here’?”

Kali opened the door and stepped in.

Her parents had prepared her. She knew the whole story of what had happened to the Marchands, where Qatana had been for the past several months, and what she had endured. They did not elaborate on the details, but they didn’t need to. Kali understood enough. She knew what Kaer Maga was.

Her father said to her, solemnly, “She has changed since you last saw her. And I mean more than just her age and her appearance. She is not the same girl you knew. But it is important to remember that it is still her.”

Her mom added, “And that she needs her friend, not an inquisitor. Just talk to her. Tell her how you feel about her.”

Kali nodded.

And she thought she was prepared, but when she stepped inside and actually saw Qatana, she froze and drew in a sharp breath.

Qatana was sitting on the bed. The first thing Kali noticed were her eyes, which seemed huge and wild as they stared into hers. The second thing was her hair, which was not just short but shockingly short. She could pass as a boy in the right clothes.

The room was small and sparsely furnished: a worn but comfortable-looking bed, a small table that doubled as a nightstand, and a wooden stool for sitting. Heavy curtains could be drawn to block the window which overlooked the street below. It was small, but not cramped.

Kali took this all in, recovering quickly from the shock, and bounded across the room, tears welling up as she embraced Qatana in an awkward, tight hug.

“You’re alive! Gods, you’re alive!”

She sobbed into Qatana’s shoulder for what felt like several minutes. Inside her arms, she could feel another change: strong, firm muscles. Like Anavaru, she thought, as she pulled away, drying her eyes by wiping the tears away with her hands.

“It’s really you,” she said. Then, her voice breaking slightly, “I…I thought I’d never see you again.”

Qatana appeared to be startled, and Kali just now realized how tense Qatana had felt in her embrace. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that, she thought.

She stepped back to give Qatana space, and herself some time to gather her composure. She fumbled with the stool, clumsily pulling it out so that she could sit at what she thought was the right distance.

“Kali,” Qatana said, barely above a whisper. “They said you were here, but I was afraid to believe them.”

She looked at Kali, actually looked directly at her, with watering eyes. She shook her head, turned away briefly, and when she returned her gaze to Kali her eyes were dry.

“Your parents came by earlier and were so nice, and when they asked if you could come visit it took me a while to realize what they were asking, or even why they were asking it.”

Qatana flashed a fleeting half-smile.

“I’ve never been to Korvosa before, but I’ve not seen much of it yet. Mostly just this room and the Gray District.”

The Gray District?

“I lit a pair of candles for my parents.” She became quiet again, fidgeting with a loose tie on her jacket.

Kali shifted uncomfortably in her stool. What am I supposed to say?

And then Qatana continued again, so softly that Kali had to lean forward to hear her.

“One of the clerics told me that our loved ones can speak to us from beyond death, but after all that has happened, I don’t think I want to know what my parents would have to say to me.”

“I…I don’t think I would eit—”

“So when are you going to show me the town?”

Kali sat back quickly, startled by Qatana’s abrupt change in tone. This was not going anything like she expected it to. The question was surprising, to say the least, and it just didn’t seem to fit. It would be fun, but was it the right thing to do now? She didn’t know.

Maybe she just needs something that’s normal. Maybe doing that would help?

“Um…Well…I’d have to ask permission, but…I…We could go…tomorrow?” Mom and dad would let me…wouldn’t they?

She continued, hesitantly at first, then more excitedly as she went on. “We’re…just below The Heights. We could…walk up there. On the way, there’s this huge bookstore, the biggest one I’ve ever seen in Varisia. And…at the top is the museum, and the big temples, and the amphitheater. There’s also the tower; the Sable Company—they’re the military here—keeps hippogriffs up there, and you can see them flying in and out! And on the other side are the Merciless Cliffs above the bay. On clear days, you can see all the way to Veldraine.

“Do you…Would that be OK?”

“Sure!”

Qatana actually looked excited at this idea, and for a moment, it was just the two of them ready to explore the city together like Qatana had never been gone. Like the past few months had not happened. But, that’s not how it is at all, is it? There was something very wrong about Qatana’s reaction, but she didn’t understand what. She replayed the conversation in her head, trying to figure it out.

“So, tomorrow, then.”

Qatana’s voice snapped Kali back to the present. She was smiling.

Is that it? Are…are we done?

“Yes! Tomorrow. I’ll come by…assuming my parents are OK with it….I’ll come by…around 11 o’clock.”

Kali stood up. She thought about giving Qatana a parting hug, but she had stayed seated on the bed. So instead, Kali walked over to the door and opened it. She looked back at Qatana one last time—she was still smiling at Kali, so Kali smiled back—exchanged an awkward good-bye, and left.

In the common room on the main floor, she found her parents were seated at a table with Shalelu. Kali hesitated at first—she was not very comfortable around the elven woman (though she did not know why)—but overcame her anxiety and walked over to where they were sitting. Their conversation came to a halt when they saw her, and all three of them turned their heads to watch as she crossed the room and sat down next to her father.

Akmal glanced up at Denea briefly and they had a silent exchange before he turned his attention back to his daughter.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m fine. She…”

Kali hesitated.

“What is it?”

“She…she wants me to show her the city. I…I said I’d do it. Tomorrow. If you and mom said it was OK. That I’d take her to The Heights.”

Akmal looked up at Denea, who had been watching Kali intently. She met his gaze and then nodded once. He turned to Shalelu next, and they had a short conversation in Elvish. It ended with her nodding, too. Finally, he turned back to Kali and spoke in an even, serious tone.

“And do you want to do this?”

“She asked to go. I think she really does want to see the city. And, I think she needs it. That it will help.”

“Kali. Do you want to do this?”

“Yes. I do. And, I want to help.”

He nodded and Kali relaxed, realizing for the first time how tense she had been.

“Very well,” he said. “We will make arrangements for—”

“Where is the Gray District?”

All eyes were on Kali again, and it was so long before someone spoke that she was afraid she had said something wrong. Denea and Akmal both looked up at Shalelu, and they had another exchange in Elvish.

When it ended, Denea stood up, gently took Kali’s hand and said, “Come with me, and I’ll tell you about it.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“No, Kali. You’re not in trouble.”

After they had gone, Akmal and Shalelu sat facing one another.

“You are sure you are OK with this?”

“Yes. She needs a friend. Someone her age that she can trust. And they’ll be safe in The Heights. Especially with me keeping an eye on them.” She paused before adding, “Discreetly, of course.”

Akmal smiled at this.

“Of course. If you need anything more, do not hesitate to ask. We will be here for another week at least. You know where to find us.”

§

Early Fall, 4700

“Go away.”

Ameiko stopped under the trees that stood between Cliff Street and the bluffs for which it was named. Kali was sitting in the tall grass a short distance from the drop-off, staring out over the water. Gulls rode the currents along the ridge, rising overhead to hover briefly before dropping down and vanishing over the edge.

A long silence passed before Kali spoke.

“If you’re here to yell at me, too, don’t bother. I don’t care. So just leave.”

Ameiko stepped over to her and sat down without saying anything. Kali turned away, putting her back to Ameiko as she sat.

Ameiko said softly, “I’m not here to yell at you.”

The onshore breeze picked up, lifting the gulls high above. Kali watched a half dozen of them hang in the air, wings outstretched. An even longer silence passed before Kali spoke, her voice breaking slightly.

“I hate them.”

“They’re jerks. Just ignore them.”

“I can’t. They won’t leave me alone.”

“Getting angry will just make it worse.”

Kali knew she was right. She knew it. But that didn’t mean it was easy to let it go. It all started when she was eight: names, some jokes behind her back, hushed giggles and laughs. Two years on, it had turned to this.

“Ana isn’t one of them. Neither am I,” Ameiko added.

Kali knew she needed to apologize to Ana, but she didn’t want to. To make matters worse, her parents had found out about it because everyone in Sandpoint hears about everything, eventually. She had never seen her father get that angry before and it actually scared her. It also made her want to apologize even less.

“Taking it out on your friends isn’t going to help.”

Kali also knew that Ameiko was right about that, too. Ameiko was always right. But Kali didn’t want “right”, and she most certainly didn’t want to be reminded of it. What she wanted was to be mad.

So she stood up abruptly and stormed away.

§

Sarenith 20, 4712 (Risa’s Place, Sandpoint, Late Afternoon)

“Do your parents still hate me?”

Kali gave Alexis a half smile and replied, “Do yours still hate me?”

His smirk turned into a huge grin. He picked up his cider and took a long draught from it, not taking his eyes off of hers.

“They didn’t hate you, you know,” Kali said. “Dad wasn’t happy, of course, but it wasn’t personal like that. Even less so for mom.” Kali paused briefly and smiled. “And you know what she’s like. As soon as others started making it their business, she almost became supportive.”

Alexis chuckled softly, took another drink, and said, “Wish I could say the same. Being half-Chelish really just made it worse.”

“I am surprised they even let me in the house.”

He shrugged his shoulders and cocked his head to the left. Kali was familiar with that gesture: he didn’t care what they thought. He probably still doesn’t, she thought.

He said, “It’s OK. You can say what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking?”

“‘The feeling is mutual.’ I know you don’t like them, either.”

“I wasn’t thinking that.”

“OK. But tell me I’m wrong about that last part.”

Kali grinned, then finished her drink without saying a word.

“Thought so,” he said smugly, and then grinned right back at her. “I’m used to it, you know. Comes with the name.”

“You’re the black sheep of the family. Or would that be the white sheep?”

Alexis snickered at that. “Maybe grey. I’m running one of the mills, remember.”

“Light grey. Send my best to Sefa, just in case I don’t see her while I’m here. And tell her ‘congratulations’ for me, too.”

“You should drop by the manor.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“We do have a private wing. One of the few good things that came out of the fire.”

“Oh, good! Then all we have to do is smuggle me inside, and back out afterwards.”

Alexis grinned as they stood up from the table. Kali pushed her chair in and then gave him a quick hug.

“Thanks for doing this, Alexis. It was good to see you again.”

“Same here. Tell your parents I said ‘hello’.”

Kali laughed at that. “Uh huh. Only if you do the same.”

Alexis gave her another huge grin and said, “You know what? I think I will.”

§

Summer, 4707

Kali found Anavaru in the back of the stables tending to her horse, brushing out his tan coat using a wide, wooden brush with stiff bristles. The hair had gotten lighter during the summer months and huge piles of the blonding strands were collecting at Ana’s feet.

Kali wasn’t exactly sure how to start this conversation. While this was well in the past, Kali had some moments when they were younger that she wasn’t proud of, and that was on her mind. She felt awkward and embarrassed about bringing up anything that might sound critical, even by accident.

She cleared her throat to get Ana’s attention.

“Hi, Ana.”

Anavaru turned her head and smiled though she did not stop her brushing.

“Hi, Kali.”

After a brief and uncomfortable silence, Kali said, hesitantly, “I’ve…uh…I’ve been meaning to tell you something—”

“I know.”

“Err…I mean, I just thought you should know, because you don’t see them up here—”

“No, I know already.”

“Oh! OK. Because, I wasn’t sure if you were aware—”

“Yes, I know my horse looks an awful lot like a camel.”

§

Dialog by Beth.

Magnimar, Early Spring, 4710

© 2007 Paizo Publishing

Kali considered the oil paintings. In all, there were seven songbirds, the holy symbol of Shelyn, of different varieties all done in a mixture of styles and settings. The little artists’ shop was small but more cozy than cramped, and behind her Qatana was casually browsing through a series of more traditional paintings, almost absentmindedly. She had picked up a landscape depicting the Lost Coast Road and the sea beyond but gave it little scrutiny before hanging it back in its place.

“I didn’t know you were a follower of Shelyn. I never even thought of you as being religious.”

Kali was still deciding between two of the paintings that she liked the best; she didn’t respond immediately so Qatana continued.

“Shelyn is a strange choice for a Vudrani.”

Said the way one might remark upon the weather: “It’s hot in the sun” or “The wind is picking up”.

Qatana was like that. Kali found it oddly comforting. Yes, she could be blunt and occasionally rude, but she was honest and said what was on her mind, and she never did so with malicious intent. You always knew where you stood with Qatana. For years, she, Ana and Ameiko had been the only friends that Kali confided in.

“I’m only half Vudrani.”

“Still.”

Qatana knew how Kali viewed herself, and was not going to let her avoid the implied question with this response.

“The texts of Irori are as much an elaborate series of fitness manuals as they are spiritual guides. I tried when I was young. I really did. I even read Unbinding the Fetters when I was thirteen and attempted to follow everything in it: the diet, the meditations, the exercises…all of it. I couldn’t do it.”

She followed it strictly for many years—she still did, more or less, save for the exercise—and it had had a profound effect on her health and her mental discipline, but almost none at all on her physical strength.

In the Church of Irori, it was not enough to try. You had to progress.

“Self-perfection of both mind and body,” Qatana remarked, quoting its best-known tenet. She was idly inspecting another painting that she had no interest in.

“Yes.”

“You haven’t the strength.”

“No.”

Qatana had picked up a pendant from a small display rack, the first item to genuinely intrigue her. The pewter disc was strung onto a simple leather necklace, and carved into it was a scene of a leafless tree in front of a barren landscape. It reminded Kali of the dead of winter.

“Why Shelyn?”

“Why Pharasma?”

Qatana gave her a blank stare.

She is not going to let this drop.

The truth is, Shelyn appealed to her. A lot. The goddess of art, beauty, love and music embodied almost everything Kali cherished about her Vudrani heritage. Music and art were integral parts of the culture. The ornate architecture and ever-present music in Jalmeray, the aureate textiles and fabrics, the fine and intricate details in carvings, paintings and sculptures. Even her clothing was a celebration of art: sarees in rich reds and golds edged with sophisticated patterns in contrasting tones. Kali had gone so far as to line them with pockets, and she wore her sarees in place of the more traditional wizard robes favored by others (the morning after altering her first, she awoke to a brilliant Scarlet Tanager singing at her windowsill).

Photo by Jeanne Kosciw. Used with permission.

Followers of Shelyn were even encouraged to produce artwork and music of their own, to the best of their ability. The emphasis was on self-expression, not on a constant need to improve. This, too, resonated with her deeply.

“The art. The music. And, unlike Irori, with Shelyn it’s the journey that matters.”

Qatana considered this for a moment and then nodded, apparently satisfied.

“Why Pharasma?”

Qatana was silent for some time, fingering the pendant, turning it over and over in her hands.

“She brings us into the world and then sees us out. She does so dispassionately and with little thought or concern for what happens to us between. There is no pretense, no good or bad, and no judgment. It is a brutal and ugly existence, and I found her disinterest appealing.”

She stopped, and Kali thought she had finished and was about to comment when Qatana continued.

“It is sometimes hard to find meaning in such world, and yet here we are. I thought that a life in service to Pharasma would lend meaning and purpose, but as much as I respect her, she leaves little room for hope.”

Her words sank in.

“You’re considering leaving her Church.”

“I am.”

This was significant. It was almost expected for someone like Kali, still young and merely a follower, to have some uncertainty in their life before settling on a deity, but Qatana was pursuing the clergy. It was not unheard of, but it was rare and it would have consequences.

Kali was holding a painting of a stylized Cardinal with a flourishing tail, perched on a stone wall covered in ivy. She recalled that Tanager in her window and the choice seemed obvious now. This was the one.

Kali spoke again.

“Pharasma leaves little room for hope. Irori leaves little for contentment. We have something in common.”

“So it would seem.”

“I hope you find what you are looking for.”

§

Contributing authors: Leonard

Spring, 4709

Kali had finished packing up her room and was helping her mother with what was left in the study. The wagon that would move these final items to their new home in Magnimar would arrive before noon the next morning, and due to some delays in the deed transfer on the warehouse and office space there Akmal was unable to return to Sandpoint to help them finish. Denea was loath to hire help for crating up what was essentially a collection of sensitive and personal family items—Next time we move, we’re packing these first, she thought—so it was up to her and Kali to finish.

When giants and a dragon attacked Sandpoint the previous year several blocks of the city were damaged or destroyed, and while the family home escaped unscathed the warehouse for Nassim Goods had not. The fire that engulfed the theatre sent hot embers into the air and raining down across the waterfront, and one of those embers landed on the roof of the warehouse and set it ablaze. Fortunately, the roof structure collapsed before the fire could completely engulf the building, and the business suffered only a partial rather than total loss.

Akmal and Denea had less luck with the insurance adjuster, who argued that their policy did not cover “damage in times of war”. Reports from agents of Magnimar, who had been tasked by the Lord Mayor with investigating unrest in eastern and northern Varisia, had turned up evidence of organized giant activity under the command of an upstart leader named Mokmurian. “And that, you see, qualifies as war,” he said, emphasizing the final word by stabbing his finger on the desk where the copy of the policy lay. Denea did not have to look down to know that his finger had landed squarely on the word “war” on the parchment. The man had probably had this exact same conversation a dozen times in the past week. That he was still alive given how emotions were running in town said a great deal about Hemlock and Deverin’s commitment to law, order and security. It was not often that either Akmal or Denea admitted defeat, and even rarer for both of them to do so at the same time, but they knew a losing bureaucratic battle when they saw one. They ate the loss, and Akmal made the decision to move the business to Magnimar as soon as he was able.

The financial impact on the family was significant, far more than either of them was comfortable admitting. Coupled with the move expenses, 4708 and 4709 were very lean years and Kali had to wait until the latter to begin her schooling, but they were alive and on steady footing. A great number of families in Sandpoint were not able to say the same, including even the infamous Scarnettis. (Recognizing how fortunate they were, Akmal and Denea donated generously to the town’s emergency fund over the next year. “I never asked your father, and he never asked me. We just did it. It was the right thing to do,” she recalled while talking to Kali about it a few months later.)

Kali was clearing some papers out of the main desk in the study when she saw one that caught her eye.

“Mom…what is this?”

She was holding a letter addressed to Denea Borellan, from the Aneka University in Korvosa dated in early 4687, offering her a tenured teaching position and describing what that would entail. It went into some detail about salary, a stipend for living expenses, and even support for research and publication. Denea came around the desk to where Kali was sitting while she read. When she finished, Denea spoke in a light voice as she reminisced, half-smiling.

“That was the year your father asked me to marry him. He proposed just a month after they sent me this.”

Kali knew precious little about her parents from before they had met. She had the stories they told her, and what both sets of her grandparents had told her, to draw upon but they seemed to exist in a different place and time. She remembered that her mother had taught for a year—Or was it two?—before she and her father married, but she didn’t remember hearing anything about this. A tenured position? She knew that was significant. And mom would have only been, what, twenty-two? Twenty-three?

“You…you gave this up?”

It was the wrong thing to say and she immediately regretted it. The expression on her mom’s face turned hard in an instant. “That is what your grandparents think, yes,” she said sharply.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Kali.”

Kali stopped and considered her mom. She’d known for years that she had a strained relationship with her own parents. Very strained. It became more obvious as Kali grew older, and that relationship was almost certainly worsening with each passing year. It was part of the reason they did not visit Korvosa very often anymore. If it weren’t for their granddaughter Denea may not have even seen her parents at all since leaving. She’d overheard bits of the arguments they’d held behind closed doors on more than one occasion and some of the things that were said were awful. She had always wondered what had caused their falling out.

I guess now I know, she thought.

Denea’s face softened, as did her voice.

“Even before I met your father, I was happy. I was researching and teaching Thassilonian history, and a little of world history after the fall of Thassilon. I was a socialite in a Varisian city-state. I knew what I wanted from my life. What I wanted was that.

“Then I met your father and I fell in love. And because of your father, I am happier than I ever was or thought I would be, I am discovering the world for myself instead of learning it from books behind a desk, I am a contributor to many of those same books that I used to read, I find and touch relics from history instead of seeing them in museums and sometimes I even put them there myself, my world is much larger than one city of modest influence and an inflated sense of its own significance, and most important of all? I have you.

“Now. Tell me, Kali. What have I given up?”

§