Anwar's Journal
Feb. 12th, 2011 08:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
velvetpageNote: Anwar can't actually keep a journal, because she neither reads nor writes. I don't care. I like character journals.
It has been an interesting couple of days. Events of note include a job offer from an enemy, dinner with my master's only blood relative who is nevertheless not out to kill him, and a sure-thing bloodbath that did not happen.
I should not call him my master, should I? I'm not a slave anymore. Hence the job offer. But I cannot think of him any other way.
The story begins two nights ago, at dusk, as a mob was chasing us through the streets. There were too many - fifty? a hundred? I didn't stop to count - for me to take on my own, so we retreated. The city streets are narrow and the available path choices limited; we were afraid they would catch us, though Solon and I are both quick-footed. Running is not made easier by being half again as tall as one's pursuers, I have found. In any case, we ducked into what should have been an abandoned shop in the growing artisan district.
It was not abandoned. As Solon listened at the door to the passing mob, I turned to face its occupants.
A vicious halfling bearing gladiator weapons, and a half-elven young woman of gentle mien, were staring intently at us. The halfling was staring at me, and I admire her willingness to take on a fighter easily twice her size and better-armed; the woman, despite the presence of my unsheathed axe, was staring at Solon. When he turned around, they recognized each other instantly, and called each other by names I had never heard him utter.
He thought it was a trick, at first. He didn't believe she was who he recognized her to be. He accused her of all kinds of perfidy. To her credit and my surprise, she did not react with anger to the suggestions. I think she does not understand the intrigue we live with. She called him by a name I will not repeat here, for he does not use it now, but he did once. It was an elven name, that much I know. He called her Nalah. Then she called him brother.
There followed a lengthy story about how she had been taken by slavers in an encounter where he had thought her killed, when he was barely more than a child, and she still was a child. I believe I am a decent judge of expressions, having so often had to intimidate someone into telling my master what he wanted to hear; I (and for that matter, Solon) can usually tell if someone is trying to lie to him. She was not lying. After a while, through his shock, he began to see that too.
Nalah - I should call her Sallah, as that is her name now - Sallah, then, suggested to Solon what I am sure he had never considered before: that he might not wish to remain a Templar. I have wondered whether he would consider such a thing, but it was not my place to ask. He dismissed the idea, but I am glad it has been suggested. I do not see how things can continue as they have been for us in the Templar district. Solon suggested she come to live with him, which suggestion she dismissed out of hand. In any case, Solon decided to invite her for dinner the next day.
The dinner was designed to impress, and I am sure it did; the halfling (Tak) did not stop eating the entire time they were with us. Most of the dinner was uneventful, but at the end, Ghadir showed up. He is a Templar, which is reason enough to distrust him; he is also a circling scavenger, sensing weakness and coming in for the kill. He disparaged Solon in front of his guests, enough that the Solon before the death of the old king would have arranged for a mishap designed to sever his head from his body. I do not yet know what will come of that, but it can't be good. I doubt very much that my master retains enough power to deal effectively with Ghadir.
Which brings us to the bloodbath that wasn't. Solon had figured out who was responsible for the mob attack that led us to Sallah, and we went to the Elven Market with six guards to deal with the elf responsible. His family's stall was located right across the lane from Sallah's stonecarver's stall.
I have rarely seen a creature more defiantly ready to die for a cause and yet resigned to the necessity of dying. The elf, Poros by name, stood up to Solon and told him that he had started the mob because Solon had taken Poros' daughter and given her to someone who had raped and murdered her. Solon and I both remembered the incident, which had impacted me more than him. Tensions were rising and I was sure the elves would fight if we tried to take their leader. We could have killed the elves with little difficulty, but if the Market had decided to stand with them, we would have started a riot and probably not survived it ourselves. And yet Solon could not see a way to speak to the man in private without sparking the riot. I could see he wanted to, simply because he did not order us forward. Would I have gone? I am still not sure. Probably; training holds fast in such situations. It did not occur to Solon to ask me if I would obey a direct order to slaughter those whose only wrong was to stand up for justice for one of their own. In any case, I did not have to decide, for Sallah came forward.
I was fairly sure she had used a psi talent with Tak once or twice already, so I took a chance and spoke to her that way, warning her that she was taking her life in her hands to approach. I had to order the guards to hold their attack; they might have started a fight out of tension, had she made a single wrong move, and she would have been the first - but far from the last - to die.
She fell to her knees before Solon and addressed him by title, not by name. She suggested that Poros had just accused another of a grievous crime, and that Solon had actually come to discuss that crime and find witnesses to it. Seeing the way out for what it was, Solon asked Poros to accompany him so that they could discuss this other crime. He agreed, though he said something in Elven to the people behind him that I did not understand. (I wonder if Solon understood him? I am sure Sallah did, and they are siblings. In any case, he made no sign that he had understood.) I suspect he was giving orders to start a mob if he did not return by such-and-such an hour.
Sallah offered to come with him as a witness. I have never known someone to put their life on the line like that for someone who was not family, and rarely then. I do not know whether to call it courage or foolishness; perhaps it was both. When Poros made as if to refuse, Sallah told him that they could not make two people disappear as they could one. Emboldened by the fact that she had heard me before but made no sign, I told her silently that yes, we could, but I would not. The answer, also silent, was a simple acknowledgement.
We took our odd little party, surrounded by the six guards, to the gladiator arena and its empty cells. The guards were left to ensure we were undisturbed. To make a long story shorter, Sallah brokered a deal in which Solon would replace the leader of the gang, the one who had done the rape and murder of Poros' daughter, with someone else who was more to his liking; Poros would have the opportunity to turn the knife in Lebam's throat, and Solon would get allies amongst the elves of the Market and amongst the Iron Rats gang. It is an elegant solution, and everyone except Solon was quite happy with it.
I am conscious of a new emotion in regards to my master: pity. His world is crumbling, his power with it, and he is thrown into a life where none of his old tricks to gain supremacy are working any longer. Seemingly talking to himself though speaking aloud to me, he asked if she (Sallah) was trying to wrest away from him his last vestiges of power; if Poros were trying to save him from revenge. I made so bold as to say that they had saved him from the mob.
"It used to be so easy!" he said. "We would go in, take what we wanted, kill those in our way, and leave."
"It was easier, but it was less pleasant," I answered. He was shocked into silence, so I continued, "Sometimes we killed those who needed killing, and dealt justice. I did not mind, then. But sometimes it was people like Poros, people who had right on their side, and I did not want to kill them."
He looked at me like a man drowning in silt looks at his one, last, firm handhold as it wrenches itself out of his grasp. "You found it unpleasant? You? Anwar, the killing machine? Why did you never mention it?"
I shrugged. "No one asked what I felt. I just did as I was ordered to do. My thoughts were unimportant." I paused. "I'm not a slave now. Now I get to think. I could leave if I wanted to. Now I get to decide if I will do things."
"Why have you stayed this long, if you found the tasks I set you unpleasant?" he asked.
I didn't know the answer myself until I opened my mouth. Indeed I had asked myself the same question, since I had had several job offers from reputable merchant houses to be a caravan guard. "Because you're asking now," I said. And I added, "If things had gone differently in the Market today, I would have been looking for another job."
"Well, at least that much has come of this mess," he said. And then he said something nobody has ever said to me in all my years of fighting for my masters: "Thank you, Anwar. I don't suppose I've ever thanked you before."
"No, sir, you haven't," I told him. "But. . . you're welcome."
I went out to the tavern for the Templars' soldiers after we got back to the Templar district and Solon dismissed me for the evening. He gave me some money to spend, as he often has in recent months. While there, I was approached by a toady who works for Ghadir. He offered me a great deal of pay to come guard for Ghadir.
I turned him down flat.
I must remember to inform Solon of that. He needs to know that Ghadir is finding other ways to undermine him - and he needs to know that I still have his back.
It has been an interesting couple of days. Events of note include a job offer from an enemy, dinner with my master's only blood relative who is nevertheless not out to kill him, and a sure-thing bloodbath that did not happen.
I should not call him my master, should I? I'm not a slave anymore. Hence the job offer. But I cannot think of him any other way.
The story begins two nights ago, at dusk, as a mob was chasing us through the streets. There were too many - fifty? a hundred? I didn't stop to count - for me to take on my own, so we retreated. The city streets are narrow and the available path choices limited; we were afraid they would catch us, though Solon and I are both quick-footed. Running is not made easier by being half again as tall as one's pursuers, I have found. In any case, we ducked into what should have been an abandoned shop in the growing artisan district.
It was not abandoned. As Solon listened at the door to the passing mob, I turned to face its occupants.
A vicious halfling bearing gladiator weapons, and a half-elven young woman of gentle mien, were staring intently at us. The halfling was staring at me, and I admire her willingness to take on a fighter easily twice her size and better-armed; the woman, despite the presence of my unsheathed axe, was staring at Solon. When he turned around, they recognized each other instantly, and called each other by names I had never heard him utter.
He thought it was a trick, at first. He didn't believe she was who he recognized her to be. He accused her of all kinds of perfidy. To her credit and my surprise, she did not react with anger to the suggestions. I think she does not understand the intrigue we live with. She called him by a name I will not repeat here, for he does not use it now, but he did once. It was an elven name, that much I know. He called her Nalah. Then she called him brother.
There followed a lengthy story about how she had been taken by slavers in an encounter where he had thought her killed, when he was barely more than a child, and she still was a child. I believe I am a decent judge of expressions, having so often had to intimidate someone into telling my master what he wanted to hear; I (and for that matter, Solon) can usually tell if someone is trying to lie to him. She was not lying. After a while, through his shock, he began to see that too.
Nalah - I should call her Sallah, as that is her name now - Sallah, then, suggested to Solon what I am sure he had never considered before: that he might not wish to remain a Templar. I have wondered whether he would consider such a thing, but it was not my place to ask. He dismissed the idea, but I am glad it has been suggested. I do not see how things can continue as they have been for us in the Templar district. Solon suggested she come to live with him, which suggestion she dismissed out of hand. In any case, Solon decided to invite her for dinner the next day.
The dinner was designed to impress, and I am sure it did; the halfling (Tak) did not stop eating the entire time they were with us. Most of the dinner was uneventful, but at the end, Ghadir showed up. He is a Templar, which is reason enough to distrust him; he is also a circling scavenger, sensing weakness and coming in for the kill. He disparaged Solon in front of his guests, enough that the Solon before the death of the old king would have arranged for a mishap designed to sever his head from his body. I do not yet know what will come of that, but it can't be good. I doubt very much that my master retains enough power to deal effectively with Ghadir.
Which brings us to the bloodbath that wasn't. Solon had figured out who was responsible for the mob attack that led us to Sallah, and we went to the Elven Market with six guards to deal with the elf responsible. His family's stall was located right across the lane from Sallah's stonecarver's stall.
I have rarely seen a creature more defiantly ready to die for a cause and yet resigned to the necessity of dying. The elf, Poros by name, stood up to Solon and told him that he had started the mob because Solon had taken Poros' daughter and given her to someone who had raped and murdered her. Solon and I both remembered the incident, which had impacted me more than him. Tensions were rising and I was sure the elves would fight if we tried to take their leader. We could have killed the elves with little difficulty, but if the Market had decided to stand with them, we would have started a riot and probably not survived it ourselves. And yet Solon could not see a way to speak to the man in private without sparking the riot. I could see he wanted to, simply because he did not order us forward. Would I have gone? I am still not sure. Probably; training holds fast in such situations. It did not occur to Solon to ask me if I would obey a direct order to slaughter those whose only wrong was to stand up for justice for one of their own. In any case, I did not have to decide, for Sallah came forward.
I was fairly sure she had used a psi talent with Tak once or twice already, so I took a chance and spoke to her that way, warning her that she was taking her life in her hands to approach. I had to order the guards to hold their attack; they might have started a fight out of tension, had she made a single wrong move, and she would have been the first - but far from the last - to die.
She fell to her knees before Solon and addressed him by title, not by name. She suggested that Poros had just accused another of a grievous crime, and that Solon had actually come to discuss that crime and find witnesses to it. Seeing the way out for what it was, Solon asked Poros to accompany him so that they could discuss this other crime. He agreed, though he said something in Elven to the people behind him that I did not understand. (I wonder if Solon understood him? I am sure Sallah did, and they are siblings. In any case, he made no sign that he had understood.) I suspect he was giving orders to start a mob if he did not return by such-and-such an hour.
Sallah offered to come with him as a witness. I have never known someone to put their life on the line like that for someone who was not family, and rarely then. I do not know whether to call it courage or foolishness; perhaps it was both. When Poros made as if to refuse, Sallah told him that they could not make two people disappear as they could one. Emboldened by the fact that she had heard me before but made no sign, I told her silently that yes, we could, but I would not. The answer, also silent, was a simple acknowledgement.
We took our odd little party, surrounded by the six guards, to the gladiator arena and its empty cells. The guards were left to ensure we were undisturbed. To make a long story shorter, Sallah brokered a deal in which Solon would replace the leader of the gang, the one who had done the rape and murder of Poros' daughter, with someone else who was more to his liking; Poros would have the opportunity to turn the knife in Lebam's throat, and Solon would get allies amongst the elves of the Market and amongst the Iron Rats gang. It is an elegant solution, and everyone except Solon was quite happy with it.
I am conscious of a new emotion in regards to my master: pity. His world is crumbling, his power with it, and he is thrown into a life where none of his old tricks to gain supremacy are working any longer. Seemingly talking to himself though speaking aloud to me, he asked if she (Sallah) was trying to wrest away from him his last vestiges of power; if Poros were trying to save him from revenge. I made so bold as to say that they had saved him from the mob.
"It used to be so easy!" he said. "We would go in, take what we wanted, kill those in our way, and leave."
"It was easier, but it was less pleasant," I answered. He was shocked into silence, so I continued, "Sometimes we killed those who needed killing, and dealt justice. I did not mind, then. But sometimes it was people like Poros, people who had right on their side, and I did not want to kill them."
He looked at me like a man drowning in silt looks at his one, last, firm handhold as it wrenches itself out of his grasp. "You found it unpleasant? You? Anwar, the killing machine? Why did you never mention it?"
I shrugged. "No one asked what I felt. I just did as I was ordered to do. My thoughts were unimportant." I paused. "I'm not a slave now. Now I get to think. I could leave if I wanted to. Now I get to decide if I will do things."
"Why have you stayed this long, if you found the tasks I set you unpleasant?" he asked.
I didn't know the answer myself until I opened my mouth. Indeed I had asked myself the same question, since I had had several job offers from reputable merchant houses to be a caravan guard. "Because you're asking now," I said. And I added, "If things had gone differently in the Market today, I would have been looking for another job."
"Well, at least that much has come of this mess," he said. And then he said something nobody has ever said to me in all my years of fighting for my masters: "Thank you, Anwar. I don't suppose I've ever thanked you before."
"No, sir, you haven't," I told him. "But. . . you're welcome."
I went out to the tavern for the Templars' soldiers after we got back to the Templar district and Solon dismissed me for the evening. He gave me some money to spend, as he often has in recent months. While there, I was approached by a toady who works for Ghadir. He offered me a great deal of pay to come guard for Ghadir.
I turned him down flat.
I must remember to inform Solon of that. He needs to know that Ghadir is finding other ways to undermine him - and he needs to know that I still have his back.