1850, Tonneral 12
Maad'hla sat thirsting as he had done for many days, his jade
Gahk’ell hide tunic creaking with every movement. Suffering not alone in thirst he looked to the old and young among the al'Ta, those still moving showed the strength of future and past enduring as
Ta. Knowing the rains should have fallen and terrified by the number of nights without
Gentus light he almost felt abandoned by Gaea who had always graced Hyades as no other of her gardens. He had never before known such a time of thirst.
Maad'ha had heard from the shamans of the En'ku Circle that
n'Khem tribes of
albedo were angering Gaea, angering Ta by coloring rivers and bringing their sicknesses into the land. They had received a visitor from a friendly tribe not a week past who had brought stories of these
albedo killing her people when they would not let them cut down a Mother Tree. The girl had barely escaped after days spent with rough hands of these n'Khem dishing out abuses his people had never needed a name for. Maad'hla had asked the girl when the Da'Kavo came to support them against these n'Ta. The girl (Jaan'kaav he learned her name was) had told him they did not come to their aide, they had been there passively stating we could argue these n’Khem leaves of words with the Librarians. He could not understand this, the
Ankesh Tablets had set the order to which they had lived for as long as al'Khem had lived and died by the holy soil. Yet now it seemed those tasked with upholding the order laid down by Ta through Ankesh were now commanded not by the pattern of
Knosma but by n'Khem cruelty. Maad'hla slipped between past and present as his inner fire burned with a need for understanding.
"Why are the
albedo poisoning our land? Why does Ta abandon his people?" he rasped past a tongue which felt like leather.
Only the rustle of desiccated leaves in the wind whispered in response.
Two men dressed in similar brown shorts and shirts with the occasional grey stripe, incongruously clean against the grimy catwalk from which they surveyed a large room dominated by an enormous partially dismembered tree.
“Do you think they’ll sue, Mattir?”
“Hah, they don’t know what that is. We’re fine.” Mattir paused. “Better than fine. Have you seen last week’s price on paper in Mhe'n'war? You and I are going to be looking at a nice and greasy dividend from that tree.”
“Might as well give the labor force a bonus, I’d think.”
