Soliana's journal

[Anthee]

Alfred Delafosse.

Until a short time ago, I knew him just as "the chef". That guy who was the somewhat unfortunate recipient of most of our Frostport fish. It was a little funny, actually... for a time, I wouldn't dare to even bring up the subject with him. We were flooding him with fish and would've loved to have more customers like him. Cordial business relations, that's how I'd describe it, despite his occasional exasperation.

But then something happened. Koukol, that woman offering the fencing lessons, died. I didn't know her well, but apparently, she was very close to Alfred. Shamsa says she was taken by the Madness, the same thing that took those closest to sister herself. I haven't witnessed that so I can't fully relate, but it sounds horrible. Shamsa, she says it's forced her to kill people close to her, because there was no other choice. Because she had to put them out of their misery. It's one of those things she prefers not to talk about.

So Koukol’s death was one thing. But just a few days ago, there was another incident, one which led to Alfred's expulsion from the Balladeers and got him into serious trouble with the authorities. What's worse, he's got this... condition that puts himself and those around him in danger. So all in all, he seems to be very much on his own now. Alone.

Or he would be, if it wasn't for us.

Isabella sympathises with Alfred's plight so much that she suggested he seek membership. It will be decided today. Everybody's given their consent so it's up to boss and sister now.

Shamsa sympathises too, of course she does. Sister's heart is so big, sometimes I wonder how that small frame of hers can hold it in. I had a little row with her about that, actually, because sometimes it looks like she's willing to risk life and limb for another's sake too easily. I had to remind her that family comes first. I think she took the point.

Me, I sympathise too, I really do. Granted, I don't like it that we're putting ourselves in danger if Alfred does become an Oathseeker. Tormod's of the same mind there. And I doubt it'll improve relations with the factions he's managed to piss off. But they treated him unfairly, and all things considered, he seems like a good man. Besides being a very competent warrior.

The only thing is, he's a bit of a buffoon at times. He better keep his mouth bloody well shut about sausages and arses and all that lewd shit which I already heard a thousand times over in the Copper Coronet. Else my knuckles might just give his face another purple greeting. Fortunately, he did apologise, and it seemed sincere. That's rare. Most men never get over their egos to say sorry about something like that. So I'm willing to give him another chance.

The other thing he said, though. What was that about? Shamsa and me, us being "the most important people in his life now"? It came so out of the blue, I didn't even know what to say. That's just crazy – he barely knows me and he can't possibly know sister that much better either. I guess he really does feel lonely. Can’t think of any other explanation.

Me, Shamsa, Isabella... Tormod too, probably... we've all known how that feels like. So if he does become an Oathseeker, I think he'll fit right in.

[Anthee]

Well, isn’t that embarrassing.

It didn’t take long after the previous entry for Alfred to ruin his chances of joining the Oathseekers for good. Whether the previous brooking accusations were true or not, he did commit brooking only a short while afterwards, apparently to save his life from some desert menace. So, he saved his skin but likely forfeited his soul, unless something can be done to remove his mark. What an idiot.

And all that because he insisted on going out there alone, to meet Amelie. Disregarding the advice and outright pleading of those he considered friends. And I thought I’m whimsical! That man is downright unpredictable – and dangerous. Isabella, ever the saint, hasn’t given up hope of getting his mark removed, but other than that, he’s a pariah now; nobody wants anything to do with him. He should be locked up, actually, but it seems he’s somehow escaped and fled the Well. My guess is he accomplished that, too, by brooking.

Still, I can’t help but feel sorry for Alfred. He’s probably had a considerable dose of bad luck too. I wonder if he did something to anger Gellema…

* * *

Two humans, a man and a woman, perished in the recent battle against an evil entity on the volcanic island of Hufaidh. I dare not even write down what that thing was; I’ve heard too many horrible stories about them. And not only did the victims lose their lives but their souls, too… Thinking about that makes me shiver. Somehow, I had thought that it would take willing cooperation with those beings, like what Alfred did, for them to gain a hold on one’s soul, but apparently at least some of them can eat souls like bread.

It’s too high a price to pay for protecting a home of rocks and sand – much, much too high. One’s soul is a thing of eternity. The stakes, by extension, are infinitely high. Given the choice, I couldn’t let my friends do battle against such monsters. I couldn’t bear the thought of one of them facing an eternity of oblivion… or worse.

This world is finite. All its joys and sorrows are fleeting, ephemeral. All of it put together means nothing at all when weighed against a single flash of eternity. All the mortal lives ever lived are worth less than a single soul, like a few grains of sand on a desert extending beyond the horizon.

And not one but two such beacons of infinity were destroyed only days ago. It goes beyond comprehension.

That begs the question: Is there anything in the whole wide world I myself would endanger my afterlife for? Anything at all?

A year ago, I would have called that a stupid question. Today, I still call it a stupid question. The difference is that today my answer is yes, there is, and she is with me now on a caravan to Kha’esh. We are due some much-needed rest before the election circus begins in earnest.

O Warad, watch over us and ward us from danger on the road.

[Anthee]

Oh, Kha’esh… I would not have wanted to leave you behind…

What a lovely reprieve we had there! It wasn’t exactly relaxing, at least not the whole time, but the trip paid off in other ways. Not so much because of the place itself – we didn’t get to see any gladiator fights, we weren’t planning on buying slaves anyway, didn’t find any nice swords either, and I’m not a camel meat aficionado – but rather because it was far away from everything and still had everything we needed.

Food. Drinks. Silence. A cat and a warm hearth. And a beautiful sunset.

When I suggested going there, I didn’t even know that Shamsa also had a very good reason to take some time off and just rest. She had gone out to the islands with Apothar Cosine and the brothers for some job which, apparently, didn’t go well. I didn’t ask why. But she was injured, got a nasty wound on her flank… a really nasty one. It was a shock to see it. I don’t think it was fully healed even after we came back to Ephia’s Well.

I was a little upset that she had been careless or foolish enough to get herself in that shape. Might not have happened had I been around. But at least she’s still alive… I thank the gods for that. And though the wound will leave a permanent mark, it seems to be much better already than on the journey to Kha’esh when she was wincing from the slightest exertion.

But the journey left me fond memories, too… I was writing the previous entry just then. Shamsa was lying down on the bench, resting her head on my thigh, while I was scribbling away with the journal on my other thigh. She kept looking up at me as if I was doing something very mysterious, until eventually, curiosity got the better of her. I told her I was writing down my thoughts and feelings, emptying my head, and she seemed to find the concept novel.

Then she asked suddenly if she was in the journal. I’d been expecting the question but it still made me smile. I told her, of course – that she’s the main character. And oh, that look on her face… it was just priceless.

Easiest way to make someone blush? Tell them that you write about them, that you’ve been writing about them for quite some time. That needs no further elaboration. It already tells them that they have become a part of your thoughts, feelings, memories – a part of your world.

And it’s true, isn’t it?

The last evening, I was talking about the people I missed back in the old world. Mother, father, Saida… others too, whom Shamsa didn’t even know about and still doesn’t. Gesturing towards the vastness of the desert, she asked me if this was my home now. I think she wanted reassurance… because when we first met, I was still hoping to find my way back.

I replied with something Saida told me back when we were about to leave Tethyr. A worn phrase, I suppose, but true nonetheless. I don’t think it means that the desert is my home now, like Shamsa asked… but it does mean that it is where my home is now. There’s a subtle difference.

I could live elsewhere. I could leave behind the desert. Shamsa may feel attached to the barren landscape, the sand and its creatures, but the gods know I don’t.

And yet, if I did that now – if I left now – I would once again be homeless.

[Anthee]

I don’t understand all that politics stuff. Never did. Too many players, too many motives, too many strands to follow. So from the beginning, I’ve trusted my friends who are involved in it – I’ve trusted that they know what they’re doing. Then I’d know too.

I have to know, now that I’m Voiced. That means I’ve some say in the politics here in the Well. It wasn’t cheap… 5,000 dinars, mostly from Isabella and the Oathseekers, although I spent a fair sum myself too. I’d like for that investment to mean something.

I guess it already did a little – the Purple League’s Zaniah won the election and is now Legate, as we’d planned and hoped. I don’t even know her personally. But Isabella does and that’s good enough for me.

I worry for Isabella, though. I’ve worried for some time now, but recent events…

I don’t know what’s changed. It seems like she is becoming more and more erratic, unpredictable. First she started drinking and caused quite a scene at the Krak, apparently. Had to be carried to her room. Now she’s resigned from her post as Chancellor of the Purple League and said some pretty nasty things about Sol Auk over the bellows. Not that I wouldn’t agree with everything she said about that stonefaced shithead, but it doesn’t seem good politics to me to be announcing such things publicly. Even I get that much. There will surely be consequences. For all Oathseekers, undoubtedly.

I admire Isabella’s moral character. She’s got spine. And a big heart, like Shamsa does. Shamsa saw it before I did, and I trusted her, and in that sense, it is that heart which drew me to the Oathseekers. I know it’s still there. Something has changed, but thank the gods it’s not that.

No, I think she is lonely. She doesn’t see the other Oathseekers much, and she has many political enemies in the Well. Few stand by her side for the vision of this place that she has. And of course… she misses dearly her lost daughter. Meryl, I think her name was. I saw her portrait in the Krak room while Isabella’s gallery was still there. She seemed so alive in that picture…

I couldn’t fault anyone for missing their dearest ones. I feel for Isabella, I do. She has suffered such loss and is under immense pressure from all sides.

I don’t know how she has lasted up until now.
I don’t know how long she will last still.
I don’t know what becomes of the Oathseekers if she does not.

She is like a mother to us, but I’m not sure if we’ve been good enough children.

[Anthee]

Isabella is dead.
Tormod is dead.

Dreams are dead.

We were fools to think we could change a cesspit like Ephia's Well. Everybody's out for themselves. Everybody's full of shit. Sol Auk wasn't any exception to the rule, he was the rule.

Monsters without and monsters within, like sister says. The ones without are just honest, not double-faced demons. That's the difference.

This town doesn't deserve her. Neither did it deserve Isabella. They're too good for this world.

So why did we come back?

Are we searching again for diamonds in the dung?

[Anthee]

She has abandoned me. She, too. She, of all people.

I couldn't keep her aloft, not when she herself no longer wanted it. She let go of my hand. She preferred to sink to the depths of her own darkness rather than keep struggling by my side.

Why? Why, sister? Why would you choose that?

Because it is a choice, it always is, no matter what. Don't give me that crap about tiredness. We all have our inner demons, but you never have to surrender to them. Not when you aren't alone.

You weren't alone. You had me. So why? Why did you give up?

Only one explanation.

I wasn't enough for you. All those words... they were just words. You probably never really considered me your sister, did you? I wonder if you even knew what it really meant.

I should've known better. There aren't relationships like that in this world. Or if there are, sooner or later they are cruelly taken away from you. Like Saida was taken from me. She was a sister to me, Shamsa. She never let me down of her own choice. Not like you did.

So wallow in your misery, then. Be pitiful, be pathetic, curl up and hide from the world. I don't care. I survive, like I always do. That's the one thing I know how to do.

I will live, I will thrive, and if it means accepting that I will only ever have my shadow by my side, so be it. There is solace in knowing at least that.

So hello there, shadow. What shall we do tonight?

[Anthee]

This politics stuff isn't so bad after all. Lucrative, if you play your cards right – with minimal risk. I suppose I can be pretty satisfied with how everything turned out.

The best part is that I never lied to anybody.

I could've done better, though. Need to begin making rounds earlier. Need to develop my negotiation skills... not my strong point, really. I used to negotiate mostly with my swords.

Do you see, sister Shamsa? I'm thriving. I'm stronger than ever before. You made me too reliant on you. You made me weak.

I have better allies now.

[Anthee]

Pointy-ears.

I hadn't heard that one in a while, surprisingly enough. Still gets under my skin for some reason. You'd think I'd gotten used to that already, in Athkatla... but I suppose it never stops feeling offensive when someone, with two little words, spits on you for what you are, what you have been and will always be.

There are more elves here than in Athkatla, certainly. But when you consider what some of the more prominent Awoken ones are or were like...

There's Sephidra and Naelin, with their noses turned up and tongues talking shit behind other people's backs.

There was Kythaela – dead now, good riddance – who by all accounts was a typical Banda bandit. She probably never even deigned to look at me.

And then there was Mythanar, who must've had the most oversized ego of any elf I've ever met. Except for Velan Volandis, maybe? No, Velan loses there too.

Such wonderful "cousins" I have been blessed with even here, in the middle of nowhere. Apologies, Ephia's Well, my apologies. I'm vividly reminded of the sun elves I had the displeasure of meeting in Athkatla. The wrinkled noses, the disdainful looks. All I can say is, the feeling was mutual.

But elves from Spring's Gift? They seem different.

I still don't know what to think of them – the story of their provenance sounds too incredible... but at least they seem nice. Narwen is nice, and the ones I talked with in Spring's Gift seemed agreeable enough too. A little suspicious of outsiders, perhaps, but that's understandable. Maybe they're the reason I don't encounter more prejudice in Ephia's Well.

I wouldn't blame Narwen, though, if she stopped being nice to me now. How could I be so careless?

But I was curious! Is curiosity a fault? There are so many secrets in this town, I just can't help myself sometimes... I don't think I need to feel bad for that...

But I really do need to up my game. Yeah, that's what I need to do.

[Anthee]

Lost five hundred dinari playing against that thrice-damned dealer at Glaziers'. Five fucking hundred! That little cunt!! He cheats, I bloody know he does! I know that game, though by a different name, and I'm good at it! I never lost that much back in Athkatla, I think? I mean, at once? And I had some pretty good lucky streaks too.

May he burn in the Nine Hells, that son of a stinking goblin. What a stupid game anyway. I'm never playing it again.

Nicked a few things from the charity chest and sold at the souk. Cut some idiot worminger's purse. Hunted a few worms myself too, although gods, it's humiliating. That all put together, around two-hundred maybe? Some way to go, still, before I've covered my losses. Bloody hells. Killing those meleks helped me recover some of my self-esteem.

Chatting with Gale helped, too, I suppose... he's not bad, for a pirate... a little like Karim. Cocksure of himself and his skills, boasting all the time, but I guess that's part of the role...

I don't know, I was pretty high on that mizzar stuff when we talked, though. What did he say? He tried really hard to flatter me, didn't he? Yeah. Well, it feels good too, in another way. I'm not without my vanities.

Darn good stuff, that mizzar. Why didn't I try it before? I should go to Elossi's again, soon...

[Anthee]

By the gods, that outfit I found at the souk is just absolutely fabulous...! Who'd believe it's just enchanted linen! So beautiful, and yet so comfortable and practical... perfect for any adventurer, really, but even more perfect for my slowly but surely growing wardrobe.

That snakeskin pattern might draw some disapproving looks from the most zealous lizard-haters, but honestly, who cares. Anybody with half an eye for beauty will forgive me immediately. The rest can go on looking and smelling like orcs.

I'm in love with the colours too. Black never gets old, sure, and I'll keep my old leathers, but they're a little conspicuous sometimes. Not to mention hot during the day outside the Shade...

When I wear this and draw my blades and coat them with venom, I'm pretty much like a snake myself, am I not? Such beautiful creatures they are. I'm told the pattern is that of a desert asp, so... Soliana the Desert Asp...? How's that sound?

Maybe I'll ask Gale. About that too. At Elossi's.

[Anthee]

He's dead.

He's dead.

Why does this keep happening to me? Why can't the people around me stay alive a little longer? The careless idiots! Is it so bloody difficult?!

Silly girl. You've learned this lesson already, haven't you?

Maybe I haven't? Keep that wall still, won't you, while I bash my head against it?

Why do you care anyway? Did he mean something to you, Sol?

Yes? No. I don't know. He was kind to me, but... no, not really. He could have.

He could have. He didn't.

Yes. And he shouldn't have, right? Because I've managed to learn at least something. They have made me wiser. They have taught me the uncertainty of everything. What's the word? Transitory. Everything is transitory.

Trust nothing and no one, Sol. Depend on no one. What remains is real.

I know... I know. Nothing, no one. It's just hard to really absorb that... I have to harden myself more.

Yes.

So what now?

There is no 'what now'. There is only 'now'.

Mizzar.

Yes.

Wine.

Yes.

And then I'll go kill a few things.

Yes.

[Anthee]

Another election, another legate. Boops deserved to win, but that isn't saying much. Her campaign didn't have enough money. I suppose she trusted in her fancy plans to do the trick, trusted people to actually care about her brain and commitment. How naive.

Dumball seems idealistic too, very much so. But I observed two main differences between him and Boops. One: his supporters had money and offered it; hers didn't. Money talks, bullshit walks. Two: he's a foul-mouthed jerk; she isn't. Yet, at least. Politics seems to reward creative dung-slinging.

Such high hopes they have for this new legate, the fools. It's going to be entertaining, watching their disappointment. Watching their dreams turn to ashes by the lure of money, power, and respect. It's only a matter of time.

But I won't be there to whisper in their ear, I told you so. That would be pointless. I'll be there if I can, yes, but I'll be whispering something else... turning that disillusionment into faith in nothing. Faith in now. Faith in what you sense, what you feel, the craving and the satisfaction... the immanent. The only kind of faith that will never be let down.

They will be pleased. Such is the irony of idealism. It provides a never-ending supply of disillusioned converts to my new liege. I should know, I'm one of them.

It occurs to me that I've all but forgotten Erevan by now... how fitting. He forgot me; I get to return the favour.

[Anthee]

Drug-dealing is hard work, I'll say. Yeah. Not at all what it's made out t High setup costs, low margins, and even then, a cut goes to the Powers That Be. I won't get rich this way. But then, I also won't get arrested, because with a couple of pricey licenses it's perfectly legal in the Well. I'm a Proper Respectable Businesswoman now.

The best customers are the craziest ones. Like that Gaskar fellow. He'd probably eat the stars from the sky if they were given to him. Actually, I think he said so. Without the 'probably'.

I had to try some of that dirt to know what I'm selling, of course. It doesn't look like much but damn! Feels good! Invigorating! I felt like... I don't know... immortal? For a few minutes. Would I chomp some in a pinch? Oh yes, definitely. Would I use it for recreation? No, I'll leave that to the gaskars. Me, I'll stick to mizzar. Mizzar, my true love...

Maybe if I get really bored someday? Doesn't seem likely for the foreseeable future.

Praise Them Between Stars!

[Anthee]

So what kind of men do you like?

A simple enough question, wasn't it? I wonder if he honestly expected a simple answer, too. So many things came to my mind then. But none that I could say out loud.

Why? Because I can't appear weak. In my trade you can't afford to, especially as a woman – it'd be suicide. Surely he must see that? He has the privilege of doing that without anybody walking over him. He can open up about all that emotion stuff and wax lyrical and it'll just add to his bardiness. Go him.

It does make me envious, of course. When did I last get to chat freely about such things without fear of how I'd be perceived? When, and with whom? I don't even remember. I might have been able to with Shamsa, before... everything. But that's in the past now.

I could've mentioned a few superficial things, but then I would've appeared superficial, and oddly enough, I didn't want that either. Apparently I care a little about what he thinks of me?

What I really would've wanted to say was

As if any of that matters. I don't have the luxury of thinking about this shit. Why did I even begin to write this?