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?”

§