The guards led The Mountain through the palace and out to the gardens. The day was warm, and the breeze carried a mixture of scents both familiar and foreign. Turning a bend in the path he saw a regal young woman resplendent in the white and gold of the Maghir. The lead guard stepped aside allowing for The Mountain to pass. As he moved closer she stood and smiled. Arya had dark eyes and dark brown hair, kept from her eyes with jeweled pins, but otherwise down and stirred by the breeze. She was taller than many of the Maghir women he had seen, but not exceptionally so. She seemed a bit younger than he, probably in her late teens.
As he reached an appropriate distance he stopped, drawing himself up as if presenting himself to the crowd in an arena. “I am…The Mountain,” he stated in his deep bass voice. Smiling down at her he asked, “Are you Arya?”
Arya seemed amused at The Mountain’s introduction, one fitting an arena, but out of place in such a circumstance. “I am, and very pleased to meet you,” she replied. Her voice was rich and a pleasure to the ear, just as Nasha had promised. She gestured to a bench and then sat quickly once it was obvious The Mountain would do likewise. Her excitement was clear and she leaned in a bit when she spoke.
“The Dorai of the Tomul Khan has told me she is considering a marriage between you and one of our household. She has also said I am one of the ones she may match you with. I have heard something of your deeds and your service to the Tomul Khan, but am anxious to hear from you about your adventures. Will you tell me?”
The Mountain smiled. “Of course! Should I start with helping the Tomul Khan? Or maybe you’d rather me start with my victories in the arena. I could talk about the war, but wars aren’t any fun. Lots die. Or do you want me to talk about helping people? I like to help people,” he added with pride and an eagerness to see where she wanted to begin.
The simple, almost child-like response seemed to surprise her a bit, though she covered it well. “Why don’t you start with your victories in the arena. I understand the chain you wear was earned there?”
The Mountain’s eyes opened wide showing his own excitement. “Yes! This is a champion’s chain. I got this after beating a REALLY BIG ss’ressen. He was even bigger than me, though not by a lot. Both of us had beaten a lot of opponents to get to the end. And there we were, he with his axe and me with my trident. The battle was really tough! It wasn’t supposed to be to the death, but he wouldn’t give up and I didn’t want to die. He killed all of his other opponents. That’s sad. So we started out by waving to the crowd…”
The story was a favorite and one told often. He gestured and posed, then got up and did some of the acrobatics as he had performed them in the arena. Arya smiled and laughed at his antics which only seemed to encourage him further. Eventually he climaxed with the final blow and added a roll across the ground to a one knee pose as a flourish and punctuation. He seemed unaware or unconcerned about the dirt he accumulated on his outfit. Arya cheered at the conclusion.
“And so when they asked me about a chain to commem…celebrate the victory, I asked for it to be made from his axe, claws and head spine as a way to honor him. They added the gold, as a champion’s chain is supposed to have gold. I think it looks pretty,” he looked up at her for confirmation and she nodded. He told her stories of other bouts within the arena, but it was clear the battle against the Agamassi was his favorite. She asked questions and occasionally seemed puzzled by the answers he gave.
“Can you tell me about your adventures? I heard you helped some dark-kin in Milandir among other things.”
“Sure! But can you sing first? I hard you have a beautiful voice,” he asked eagerly.
She smiled at his reaction and began to sing one of the ballads of her people. The first note rang out clear and pure as did the rest that followed. Her range was impressive as was her expressiveness. She sang to him and he watched her in turn, smiling his encouragement. When the song reached its end he applauded, “So you speak Maghir?” she asked in Maghir. The Mountain looked confused so she switched back to Low Coryani. “Do you speak Maghir?” she repeated.
The Mountain shook his head. “No. Why?”
“You seemed very focused and nodded a bit.”
He seemed surprised. “I did?”
“Yes.”
“You sing well, and I could just feel the story in how you sang it.”
“I see,” Arya seemed to file that away. Letting go of whatever thought lingered, she invited him again to tell of his adventures with the dark-kin in Milandir.
“Oh. That’s a sad story,” he stated, his face becoming somber as he thought about it. “Are you sure you want to hear it?”
“Please.”
He sighed a bit. “Ok,” and with that began the tale. It started with he and some companions sent on an errand to investigate a situation in Milandir and discovering a dark-kin near dead by the side of the road. Through it he sat, the animation displayed in previous tales gone as this one was more dark and somber. As the story unfolded, Arya asked many questions about the dark-kin and The Mountain’s role in helping the dark-kin get settled into a new life. As he told her of other adventures including aiding the Tomal Khan, she continued her questioning. The enthusiasm she showed when they first met replaced with a more reserved and pensive demeanor.
After bringing a particular story to a conclusion, The Mountain addressed her, “Do I get to ask questions, too?”
The question surprised her. “Of course.”
“What do you do here?” when it was clear his question wasn’t understood he tried again. “In the Golden Court. What do you do?”
With that Arya spoke of her life within the court, how she aided the master of ceremonies and was consulted in matters of etiquette and occassionally politics. The Mountain had a hard time grasping all the different things she did and interrupted with questions. They were simple questions and often blunt, though softened by the fact that they were asked without challenge.
The conversation wandered from her work to her extended family. When Arya mentioned Khan Forso, The Mountain looked uphappy and blurted out that he thought Khan Forso was a bad man and Arya agreed. She looked at him a bit oddly after that exchange and their discussion moved from family to music. She studied at the Academy of Epics and Songs and she told him of the masters she had worked with there. They lapsed into silence and before either could speak further one of the guards approached.
Offering the appropriate respects he addressed them, “Apologies for the intrusion. The Mountain is expected elsewhere soon and it would not be well for him to be late.”
The Mountain stood and offered Arya a hand to rise which she accepted. Once standing, he gently covered hers with his other hand. “This was nice. Can we talk again soon?”
Arya looked up at The Mountain with a curious expression on his face. “Yes, that would be nice.” She spoke slowly seeking something in his face.
He smiled broadly. “Good! We will speak soon. Goodbye!” he said and turned to go.
“Goodbye, Mountain.”
The Mountain turned back and his eyes opened wide as if she’s said something wrong. “Not Mountain. The Mountain. Mountain’s not here,” he spoke with all sincerity.
Unsure if a jest or not, Arya smiled in response. “Of course, The Mountain. We will speak again soon.”
With that the guards led The Mountain away, off to his next appointment.
To be continued…
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