THE DEMONHUNTER AND THE RATFOLK #2
Jan. 14th, 2011 12:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jackThe ratfolk led me to the central temple of the godess Yathenan, by a small but hotly defended margin the most preeminent of the High Five. It was an ediface of interlocking stone buildings, painstakingly raised around the central courtyards high above the surrounding town, and riddled with shining halls filled with reverence, and twisting passages filled with bickering priests.
There were a couple of guards in front of the big archway, and I eyed them nervously. Petitioners, students and devotees were trickling in and out, but demon hunters and gods didn't always get on well. Everyone agreed there was a very very clear line between a demon and god, but no-one agreed exactly where it actually was, and there had been unfortunate clashes in the past. But Yathenan welcomed everyone into her temple -- or so the Jotunheimic inscription above the arch said.
But while I hesitated, the ratfolk reared back and balanced upright, hunched, but suddenly looking a lot more humanoid. She took my arm and led me forward, dipping her snout politely to one of the guards. The guard gave a level stare back, of familiarity if not quite respect. I felt embarrassed I hadn't realised she knew the people in the temple. I wanted to ask her name, but ratfolk couldn't speak Hanglay without discomfort, and privately tjhought small talk rather rude.
The archway continued through the building, dodging left along the side of the inner courtyard, with vast trellised windows above letting in the light. I glanced at the multi-speciesed humanoids scurrying along the corridor. Priests favoured white clothes to show they worked with their hands and minds, even when they didn't. Petitioners and parishoners walked respectfully along the middle of the path, dressed in court clothes or work clothes or I-wanted-to-look-respectful-but-didn't-have-anything-better clothes. Artisans carried bits of work purposely along to consulting rooms. One priest of Selreit was arguing in low fast voices with a human priest of Yathenan.
At the next corner, the corridor detonated in a shower of statuary, indoor flora, stairs, small corridors, trellises and archways. Most people were hurrying through another archway into one of the central courtyards, but the ratfolk led me left towards a split staircase. But at the bottom, she held me back a moment and coughed deliberately, even louder than usual. One of the statues stirred slightly and blinked, and started slowly rising to its feet, and I saw it was actually a large green-gray lizardfolk which had been dozing sitting on the plinth.
She'd sat leaning against the legs of the statue above her, feet resting on a small stool presumably intended for a more human-sized guard, head and upper torso gently bathed in a shaft of sunlight from the top of the archway. She was tented in oversize versions of the simple white garments of a priest of Yahtenan. As she stepped down, the stool cracked and shifted under her.
The ratfolk bobbed her snout respectfully, and seemed to really mean it. The lizardfolk cracked her snout akward in a genuine smile. "Here to see Sister Jarga?"
The ratfolk nodded, but then glanced at me. The lizardfolk looked me up and down and yawned massively. "Phorite?"
I looked steadily back. Phorites were humanoid, but known for producing demon hunters, who, as previously averred, had a mixed relationship with gods. "Yes."
She paused, then bowed slightly in the standard greeting between humanoids who weren't ratfolk. "Listrka," she introduced herself. And "Is she here with you" to the ratfolk, although expecting me to answer.
"Yes. Or at any rate, I think so," I said. The ratfolk nodded assent. "What is her name?" I interposed.
The lizardfolk smiled again. Lizardfolk were very different to ratfolk, but I thought Listrka appreciated that both were a bit further from the center of society, and was pleased to see a humanoid being ratfolk-polite. She coughed, and produced a hissing noise that marvellously recreated what I just about recognised as a name in the ratfolk-dialect creole. It was a completely different sort of sound, but instantly recognisable, not that I thought I'd be able to pronounce it myself. "She prefers humanoids to call her 'Madam Thickttail'"
Many ratfolk adopted simple usenames of varying longevity when dealing with humanoids, although others chose names from other dialects, or the equivalent to their birth name if it was a traditional one. I thought "Madam Thicktail" was supposed to convery, firstly, that she was of some importance, and secondly, that she preferred peole to think of her as a ratfolk, rather than try to fit in better to non-ratfolk society.
I looked across to her and bowed slightly myself. "At your service, Madam Thicktail." She chittered happily.
The lizardfolk broke in again. "Please be unoffended. You are also a demon hunter, yes?"
I nodded cautiously.
"And you bear a divine weapon?"
I nodded again, toughing ghostflame at my hip. She hestitated, mentally preparing a long paragraph of Hanglay. In my limited experience, Lizardfolk could speak excellent Hanglay, better than I could, but their brains woke up from basking even slower than their bodies did.
"Please continue to be unoffended. The priesthood of Yahtenan currently prefer no newcomes to bring divine weapons into the private area of the temple." She gestured awkwardly with a clawed hand. "You may leave your weapon with me, whcih I will guard with honour. You may return without it. Or Madame Thicktail may ask Jarga if she would like to meet you in one of the public areas. I regret you may not proceed with your weapon. However important."
I I smiled back and considered briefly. "Thank you, Sister Listrka. You are right that I do not abandon ghostflame lightly. But I am happy to follow the strictures of Yathenan while I am her guest, and to surrender ghostflame, provided you guard her honourably -- you will guard her honourably, right?"
Listrka nodded vigorously, and gestured to Madame Thicktail, who chittered and nodded an endorsment.
"--I will happily surrender ghostflame to you. Please don't touch the blade."
I slid ghostflame from her sheath and offered the hilt to her. She took it gently, then hefted it lightly, and made to lay it alongside her on the plinth, but as she moved, her hand grasped convulsively and passed right through the hilt, and the sword clattered to the floor, the slim blade passing through the edge of the plinth as it fell.
People in the corridor and square looked round sharply at the ringing of steel, but seeing Listrka calm, looked away again. But I was suddenly sezied with misgiving. Ghostflame was made by a god, to kill the divine. It wasn't made to be touched by ordinary humanoids, and most could not touch it for long without it becoming insubstantial to them. But I'd never seen the hilt fade so quickly, though normally no-one had ever touched it directly after I had. But I shouldn't have offered the sword without the scabbard in the first place.
I liked Listrka, but I'd also felt a satisfaction in showing that ghostflame and I chose to follow their rules, not were compelled to. But now she was looking at me mistrustfully, and I hurried to repair the damage. I'd automatically reached forward, but now I stepped back from the sword. "I'm sorry, sister Listrka. You should be able to pick her up now if you put her straight down again." I bit my tongue before I could offer to pick her up for her. That would just sound like a challenge. "Or, you can leave her on the floor by the statue, if you make sure no-one touches her." Not that I was very worried about that. It was impossible to carry her far.
Listrka smiled shortly at my conciliation, and sensibly crouched respectfully before nudging ghostflame over to the base of the statue with the side of her boot. She invited me to continue past her into the temple, but seemed noticeably colder with me.
There were a couple of guards in front of the big archway, and I eyed them nervously. Petitioners, students and devotees were trickling in and out, but demon hunters and gods didn't always get on well. Everyone agreed there was a very very clear line between a demon and god, but no-one agreed exactly where it actually was, and there had been unfortunate clashes in the past. But Yathenan welcomed everyone into her temple -- or so the Jotunheimic inscription above the arch said.
But while I hesitated, the ratfolk reared back and balanced upright, hunched, but suddenly looking a lot more humanoid. She took my arm and led me forward, dipping her snout politely to one of the guards. The guard gave a level stare back, of familiarity if not quite respect. I felt embarrassed I hadn't realised she knew the people in the temple. I wanted to ask her name, but ratfolk couldn't speak Hanglay without discomfort, and privately tjhought small talk rather rude.
The archway continued through the building, dodging left along the side of the inner courtyard, with vast trellised windows above letting in the light. I glanced at the multi-speciesed humanoids scurrying along the corridor. Priests favoured white clothes to show they worked with their hands and minds, even when they didn't. Petitioners and parishoners walked respectfully along the middle of the path, dressed in court clothes or work clothes or I-wanted-to-look-respectful-but-didn't-have-anything-better clothes. Artisans carried bits of work purposely along to consulting rooms. One priest of Selreit was arguing in low fast voices with a human priest of Yathenan.
At the next corner, the corridor detonated in a shower of statuary, indoor flora, stairs, small corridors, trellises and archways. Most people were hurrying through another archway into one of the central courtyards, but the ratfolk led me left towards a split staircase. But at the bottom, she held me back a moment and coughed deliberately, even louder than usual. One of the statues stirred slightly and blinked, and started slowly rising to its feet, and I saw it was actually a large green-gray lizardfolk which had been dozing sitting on the plinth.
She'd sat leaning against the legs of the statue above her, feet resting on a small stool presumably intended for a more human-sized guard, head and upper torso gently bathed in a shaft of sunlight from the top of the archway. She was tented in oversize versions of the simple white garments of a priest of Yahtenan. As she stepped down, the stool cracked and shifted under her.
The ratfolk bobbed her snout respectfully, and seemed to really mean it. The lizardfolk cracked her snout akward in a genuine smile. "Here to see Sister Jarga?"
The ratfolk nodded, but then glanced at me. The lizardfolk looked me up and down and yawned massively. "Phorite?"
I looked steadily back. Phorites were humanoid, but known for producing demon hunters, who, as previously averred, had a mixed relationship with gods. "Yes."
She paused, then bowed slightly in the standard greeting between humanoids who weren't ratfolk. "Listrka," she introduced herself. And "Is she here with you" to the ratfolk, although expecting me to answer.
"Yes. Or at any rate, I think so," I said. The ratfolk nodded assent. "What is her name?" I interposed.
The lizardfolk smiled again. Lizardfolk were very different to ratfolk, but I thought Listrka appreciated that both were a bit further from the center of society, and was pleased to see a humanoid being ratfolk-polite. She coughed, and produced a hissing noise that marvellously recreated what I just about recognised as a name in the ratfolk-dialect creole. It was a completely different sort of sound, but instantly recognisable, not that I thought I'd be able to pronounce it myself. "She prefers humanoids to call her 'Madam Thickttail'"
Many ratfolk adopted simple usenames of varying longevity when dealing with humanoids, although others chose names from other dialects, or the equivalent to their birth name if it was a traditional one. I thought "Madam Thicktail" was supposed to convery, firstly, that she was of some importance, and secondly, that she preferred peole to think of her as a ratfolk, rather than try to fit in better to non-ratfolk society.
I looked across to her and bowed slightly myself. "At your service, Madam Thicktail." She chittered happily.
The lizardfolk broke in again. "Please be unoffended. You are also a demon hunter, yes?"
I nodded cautiously.
"And you bear a divine weapon?"
I nodded again, toughing ghostflame at my hip. She hestitated, mentally preparing a long paragraph of Hanglay. In my limited experience, Lizardfolk could speak excellent Hanglay, better than I could, but their brains woke up from basking even slower than their bodies did.
"Please continue to be unoffended. The priesthood of Yahtenan currently prefer no newcomes to bring divine weapons into the private area of the temple." She gestured awkwardly with a clawed hand. "You may leave your weapon with me, whcih I will guard with honour. You may return without it. Or Madame Thicktail may ask Jarga if she would like to meet you in one of the public areas. I regret you may not proceed with your weapon. However important."
I I smiled back and considered briefly. "Thank you, Sister Listrka. You are right that I do not abandon ghostflame lightly. But I am happy to follow the strictures of Yathenan while I am her guest, and to surrender ghostflame, provided you guard her honourably -- you will guard her honourably, right?"
Listrka nodded vigorously, and gestured to Madame Thicktail, who chittered and nodded an endorsment.
"--I will happily surrender ghostflame to you. Please don't touch the blade."
I slid ghostflame from her sheath and offered the hilt to her. She took it gently, then hefted it lightly, and made to lay it alongside her on the plinth, but as she moved, her hand grasped convulsively and passed right through the hilt, and the sword clattered to the floor, the slim blade passing through the edge of the plinth as it fell.
People in the corridor and square looked round sharply at the ringing of steel, but seeing Listrka calm, looked away again. But I was suddenly sezied with misgiving. Ghostflame was made by a god, to kill the divine. It wasn't made to be touched by ordinary humanoids, and most could not touch it for long without it becoming insubstantial to them. But I'd never seen the hilt fade so quickly, though normally no-one had ever touched it directly after I had. But I shouldn't have offered the sword without the scabbard in the first place.
I liked Listrka, but I'd also felt a satisfaction in showing that ghostflame and I chose to follow their rules, not were compelled to. But now she was looking at me mistrustfully, and I hurried to repair the damage. I'd automatically reached forward, but now I stepped back from the sword. "I'm sorry, sister Listrka. You should be able to pick her up now if you put her straight down again." I bit my tongue before I could offer to pick her up for her. That would just sound like a challenge. "Or, you can leave her on the floor by the statue, if you make sure no-one touches her." Not that I was very worried about that. It was impossible to carry her far.
Listrka smiled shortly at my conciliation, and sensibly crouched respectfully before nudging ghostflame over to the base of the statue with the side of her boot. She invited me to continue past her into the temple, but seemed noticeably colder with me.