Fall into Ecstacy
Chapter 4: The Bazaar Dancer
By Kaasan Faerlyte B.
Disclaimer : I do not own FFXII, its characters, or locations, etc... Nor do I own the lyrics to "All Souls Night" and "Cymbeline", both of which belong to Loreena Mckennitt.
Three years ago I had gazed upon the splendor of the Imperial city Archades for the first time. My life as a bazaar street dancer in Rabanastre had gone from one of small importance to that of a full fledged hero in a matter of weeks and I'd seen more of the world in that short window of time than I'd ever dreamed possible. I was swept off my feet.
Now, to stand before the gates of the city a second time was all the more awe inspiring than before. A nervous tingle ran up my spine and I fought to restrain my excitement as I paced the streets. Unlike last time however, I could be at ease as an honored guest, as opposed to a wanted rebel. My ticket was bought and paid for at no small price.
It was courtesy of Migelo's superior bargaining skills that I was being afforded this rare luxury. Archades boasted one of the largest most famous bazaars in all of Ivalice. Haggling a spot as a performer on its lofty streets had been no easy task. To be accepted was the greatest honor and the finest compliment I had ever been paid. Naturally, I was terrified of everything and everyone around me.
This would be the largest audience I'd ever entertained by a substantial margin and the majority of them would be upper class noblemen and women. They would be my most severe critics, but I could have danced on water at this moment had they asked. I'd been waiting all my life for this opportunity; I wasn't about to choke.
My style of dance was unique to the art as it incorporated a large amount of martial arts. My older brother had taught me at an early age, always ensuring that I utilized my skills properly, whether it be on the grand stage or in the heat of battle. He had prepared me for life as best he could.
Whenever it came time to stepping up into the spotlight of a dozen, a hundred, a thousand faces–however many there were at a given performance– it was my brother that I thought of. He gave me courage when my heart hovered in the base of my throat and I forgot all the steps. I knew that when the music finally started my body would react on its own accord.
At present, I would be happy just to find my way through the streets of Archades without getting lost. There were five times as many people here as there would be on a good day in Rabanastre and what little I'd seen on my previous venture had barely scratched the surface. The place was enormous.
My arrival had garnered more interest than I anticipated too–certainly more than it ever had back home. Nervous anticipation trembled in my legs and I nearly collided into an errand boy who went hurling past with an armful of fruits. I teetered on my heels precariously for a moment as the boy sped out of sight into the crowd and had to remind myself to breath again.
So many people and all of them strangers. They studied me with a mixture of contempt, boredom, and wonder. I was unfamiliar and strange. Dancers were not an especially sought after commodity nowadays, though they had been at one time, but many of them today were mediocre at best. Without suitable teachers to pass down their knowledge there was little that could be done for it.
For me it was constant trial and error, and fighting constantly. If I could dance circles around the swiftest of foes and dispose of them without maintaining damage, then I figured I was capable of capturing the attention of an audience on a stage. Sword play never failed to catch the eye of the unsuspecting onlooker. It was a recent addition to my program, but well-received (and it was training that I sorely needed). They thought to watch a little tip and toe ballet dance and instead got singing swords and flying daggers. I always tried to maintain a wide scope of venues to draw from when entertaining.
Out of all those things though, from the displays of agility and sword expertise to balance and strength, none were so effective as the singing portion. That was the one thing that had never required practice. It was a gift, mom had told me. I could sing an entire ensemble of melody, harmony, and accompaniment without a hitch in breath, and surround an audience with my voice. The effects were undoubtedly a result of magic manipulation, but it came naturally.
Unfortunately, dancing apparently had the potential to be harmful too.
I'd been practicing one day when an old song came to me in a language long dead. I began to sing without even thinking and inadvertently imbued the dance with magic. My initial discovery of this skill was far from pleasant. Migelo had inexplicably toppled over in the doorway when I finished. My heart had stopped-I was sure I'd killed him-, and then he promptly began to snore. His presence had triggered the spell to be cast before I realized what was happening.
Since then I'd been taking care to control my feet whenever I felt a sudden surge of magic energy, and to control my mouth when unfamiliar words surfaced inexplicably on the tip of my tongue. It had not happened again though and now that I was aware of my power I knew how to hold it at bay. The sleeping dance had been committed to my book of spells in a section all its own, for now.
That had been a year ago. Nowadays even the harmless dances that I performed emitted small flickers of magic, but they never amounted to anything dramatic, or I did not permit them to–sometimes I wasn't sure which it was. There was a potential for great power there, waiting to be tapped, but the arcane was often dangerous. Without proper tutelage it could be disastrous.
Besides, I didn't need it.
I stopped with a startled exclamation as a heavily armored figure suddenly barred my path, which I was too busy daydreaming to notice until I'd nearly barreled into him. It was a good thing I didn't– he was dressed from head to toe in armor and stood at least a foot taller than I.
The hairs on my neck bristled as I nimbly rebounded to examine the formidable figure in front of me. Of all things, a Judge! Old habits insisted that I bolt that very instant, but I resisted the urge. I had every right to be here and running would only bring on unwarranted suspicion.
Nothing diminished the terrifying persona of a Judge when you had their attention however. They were some of the most frightening opponents I had ever faced. Their skills in battle seemed beyond those of mortal men and their helms concealed any traces of humanity that they might have, giving them a perpetual gaze of doom.
I glanced around and realized that I was the only person who had failed to step aside for the Judge, thus I was caught in his path as a rabbit in the hunter's snare. He may very well have been thinking that very thought himself the way he was looming over me right.
For a split second I was sure I'd be dragged off to the dungeons, but he shoved past instead with a feral grunt and an acrimonious, "Watch where your going, peasant." The last word was a hiss.
He strode on sharply, his burgundy cape billowing out behind him as it chased after his heels. The crowd slowly melted into the space left in the Judge's wake and went milling about as they had been before, though I couldn't help but notice a few admonishing, and downright contemptuous, glances in my direction.
I sighed with a shrug. What more could I expect? I prepared myself for a cold reception the moment I agreed to the arrangement. Still, it was hard not to have doubts. How would they react to this "peasant" dancer when I took the stage? People like them would behave a certain way just to maintain an image regardless of whether I was the best damn dancer that ever lived, or the worst.
My hands unraveled a map of the bazaar that had been provided earlier by the bazaar's entertainment official. Also at my disposal had been more helping hands than I ever needed or wanted, including the official's own, which I had kindly, but earnestly insisted that I could do without. I was starting to wonder just what skills of mine had influenced his decision to give me a spot on the bazaar's grand stage.
Regardless of what the official's ulterior motives might or might not be, I had a decent map and all that I required for my performance was on my person. I could find my way without their assistance. The somewhat miffed official had opted to escort my personal belongings to the inn instead–I made a mental note to check that my things had not be "messed" with after tonight.
The grand stage was located in the center square of the city. Any doubt in my mind that I might miss it while weaving down the numerous streets was abruptly squashed when I looked across and saw the circular arena ahead of me. As I approached its perimeter I noticed three sets of stairs descending down into the bottom where there stood an enormous wood framed stage with rich, cascading velvet curtains of deep red and a half domed roof.
My eyes were leaping from their sockets at the distance to the bottom and the numerous rows of seats that encircled the stage, climbing up to the streets. This place could hold at least 1000 people. I hoped they weren't expecting a full audience tonight. This wasn't exactly what I had in mind for my big debut.
I took a deep breath and started to descend the steps, counting the number of observers who were milling about. They were sparse and disinterested looking, most having come simply to rest their legs. My performance wasn't for another hour anyway. More people would come in by then. I hoped. I didn't particularly relish in having an empty audience either.
Even if it were empty when I started, I could probably draw a few in through out the night. From experience it did seem to work that way. The structure was designed to carry sound as clear and as far as it would go. I'd make them come, damn it.
I skipped down the remaining steps, humming a practice tune to myself, and skipped the last two. The white marble arena seats were golden in the setting sun as the last streams of light fell upon them. I straightened up and squinted at the light blazing off the polished helm of another tall, armored figure standing at the base of the stage. He was speaking to the entertainment official--Greisha, I think was his name. Something like that.
The armored one towering over Greisha was another Judge. Didn't they have more important things to do? They seemed to be everywhere. It was not the same Judge as before at least, but Judges in general put me on edge.
How did so many men of questionable nature wind up as Judges? I guess it was more to do with family ties and relations to the senate than it was good, honest work, but my knowledge of politics was limited. Not that all the Judges had been bad before, but it seemed to me that only the most corrupt remained in power.
I selected to wait where I was in a moment of cowardice rather than approach the two. The scenery was breathtaking. The arena seemed even larger from my new standpoint. Stage hands were lighting torches along the outside of the half circle arena floor, which was an off-setting green marble to the surrounding white seats, and engraved with intricate golden designs. The stage was just beyond it with ascending stairs on either side. And there was the Judge, still speaking with the official. A long black cape with a stylized red symbol draped down his back.
My gaze shifted suddenly back to the helm, examining it closer. I knew that armor! Basch's brother had worn it as Judge Magister Gabranth. We had brought him on board the Strahl just before he died and Basch had taken the armor with him when he left to Archades.
I couldn't move for several long seconds. Up till now I had a carefully put Larsa and Basch from my mind, not trusting to hope that I'd ever see either of them again. We had lost contact over the years and it seemed that we all had moved on from the past in separate directions. My chest tightened as memories I had thought lost and forgotten came rushing back.
"May you return one day."
Jovan...I hadn't kept my promise.
Basch and I had never spoken again about our adventure in the caverns, not to each other or anyone else, as far as I knew. It had been three years since we last spoke. The others had been given a heavily simplified version of the events. That never had dissuaded Vaan from wanting to go back to it someday however. There was a possible profit to be made in getting one's hands on a substantial amount of dragon root, after all. I forgot to tell him that you couldn't maintain its effects for longer than a day.
Right then a voice called out from behind me, "Gabranth!" It was the Judge from earlier, sounding none to eager to make the other man's acquaintance. "Are you finished?" He grated impatiently. "We have more pressing matters to-"
Gabranth had turned to meet the other Judge, but he never made it that far. The helm jerked to a halt when the eyes met mine. If there had been any doubt before of his identity, there was none now. I could feel the difference in the tingle of warmth that spread up my spine.
My lips parted hesitantly, not sure of what to say, but dying to say something. What was the proper procedure of greeting under these circumstances? Calling him by his name would be against protocol. Displaying any sort of familiarity would likely be frowned upon for that matter, but what if this was the only chance I had to speak to him?
The other Judge followed Basch's gaze and stopped. "You." He declared narrowly. The Judge glanced quizzically between us. "What in-"
"Penelo." Basch interrupted the man before the he could finish, and immediately strode towards me. He stopped a few paces short and gave his subordinate a nod. "Inform Larsa that I am on my way. You are dismissed, Sigmund."
The Judge, dubbed Sigmund, muttered inaudibly to himself, cast what felt like a scathing glare at me, and left without a word.
My lips drew back in a wide smile up, ignoring an intensely odd look from Greisha's direction. The official had been orbiting closer and closer since the scene had begun to unfold. In fact, if he got any closer they both would be wearing the Judge's armor.
"That goes for you as well, Greishem." Basch enunciated evenly.
Greishem came sputtering out from behind him to stand between us, "W-we have less than an hour!" He thrust a stubby finger in my direction, "She needs to rehearse."
The knight's helm lifted towards me, "You are dancing tonight?" He inquired, surprised.
I nodded, "That's right."
Basch gazed back down at Greisham, "I was not informed."
Greisham fidgeted under the knight's intense stare, "How was I supposed to know you were acquainted with some little chit from the streets of Rabanastre." He protested haughtily. "Besides, I was taking a bit of a risk you know...bringing her here before the masses. There are so few dancers worth their salt in gold these days though..." Greishem trailed off despondently.
"A risk to her or to your pocket book?" Basch asked pointedly.
"Both!" Greishem squawked indignantly. "Twill all come to fruition too if we continue dawdling here half an hour before curtain call."
"That, Sir Greishem," Basch began profoundly, " is where you are most auspiciously incorrect. Good day," He faced me with a courteous bow and said, "I would wish luck upon you, but I know you'll not need it. I shall see you again before the night is over."
My cheeks flushed red as the armored figure spun deftly away and mounted the steps of the arena, my voice lost in the pit of my fluttering stomach.
"It's about time!" Greishem huffed at the Judge Magister's retreating back. He grinned satisfactorily and averted his attention back to the stage with a nod, "Good ol' chap–for a Judge."
I arched a quizzical brow. Stellar chap is more like it. Any Judge three years ago would've tossed the snot into the brig without hesitation.
"What?" Greisham demanded, catching my eye. "You disagree?"
"Oh no," I professed quickly. "You should worship the ground he walks on for putting up with your obnoxious behavior."
"I call it free speech." Greisham replied frankly. " Is it not a wonderful thing? At long last, a Judge that lives up to his name. Oh I think he's the grandest thing that ever happened to this place, don't misunderstand.. He should be grateful that I've taken it upon myself to keep him in on his toes though."
"What about the other Judges? Do you keep them on their toes too?" I asked .
Greishem blanched, "Gods no! Girl, have you lost your mind? Gabranth may be Judge Magister, but he can't be everywhere at once. They'd gut me in a back alley for sure and no one would ever know. You'd do well to remember that too, mind you."
"Poor Basch." I murmured, smiling softly.
"What's that?" Greishem grumbled absently, scowling at a stage prop. He barked something to one of the assistants and promptly got into an argument which lasted the better part of 5 minutes.
I stood to the side scanning the rows of empty seats while I waited for them to come to an agreement. There were people filing down all three sets of stairs and more coming from the streets beyond. The crowd it seemed shifted from bazaar shopping to stage entertainment come evening. I tried to pick out Basch's helm among them, but he had vanished.
There was many a soldier and armored Knight about however. More so than I would have expected given that this was only a stage performance open to the public. Or so I had been lead to believe upon making the agreement. Nothing had panned out as I had expected since arriving though, so it came as no surprise that there were guards setting up at the top of the stairs to collect entry fees.
What had I gotten myself into?
"Hey!"
I jumped at the bark of Greishem's voice and spun around sharply to face him. His ribbon tied hair bounced buoyantly behind him as he approached.
"We haven't got all night!" He cried and commenced frantically waving his arms in the direction of the stage. "Shoo! Get up there and make sure your ready in 15."
I nodded and darted off towards the nearest staircase that climbed up onto the grand stage. There were men and women scurrying in every direction, setting up the lighting, positioning props, and clearing away debris that had found their way onto the floor. They even had the targets.
A younger man scampered to a halt in front of me and indicated the aforementioned items, "How do you want them positioned?"
I paused, evaluating the space and shape of the stage. When I was pleased with the picture in my head I turned back the stage hand, "A half circle towards the back of the stage should do. Make them evenly spaced."
"Yes ma'am." He answered.
"Is there a room where I-"
"Far back, behind the curtains on the left." The young man finished smoothly and ran off.
I blinked in surprise and followed his directions. The door was there and behind it a short set of stairs leading down into a long hall lined on either side with more doors. These were the dressing rooms I guessed. I knocked on the first and went inside when no one responded.
There was a small dressing table with a mirror and an assortment of make up. There was also a rack of costumes in the back, a full body mirror, an empty coat hanger, some shoes, and a long, crescent moon staff leaning against the wall. The latter drew my immediate attention.
My hands knew before I touched it that it was magical. It had to be powerful create that kind of intense aura. When I grasped it a shock went up my arm like nothing I'd ever felt. I immediately let go, dropping it onto the floor with a clatter. A shock wave of myst energy burst through the room upon impact.
What on earth was a magic staff doing in a back stage dressing room? I was hesitant to ask and risk revealing its secret. No one in their right mind would leave something this valuable lying around if they knew what it was. The un-magically inclined might mistake it for just another piece of varnished wood with a pretty head piece, but even they must feel its power.
There was a knock on the door.
"You in here?" Came Greishem's voice.
"Yes." I called back.
"Are you, eh, decent?" He added, reluctantly.
I frowned and answered slowly, "Yes."
The door swung open, "Oh good." Greishem explained. "You found my pretty stick. Think you can use it in your routine? Not that your sword work isn't quite fine, but I thought maybe something new might interest you."
My eyes strayed disbelieving to the object lying on the floor, then back to Greishem. "Why?" I almost gasped.
He shrugged. "I'll take it back if you don't want it."
I hastily picked it up, ignoring the surge of energy that coursed through my veins. My knuckles turned white as I was forced to exert all my willpower into controlling its sporadic bursts of magic. That and trying to talk to Greishem at the same time was more difficult than I expected. "N-no." I managed, "I can use it."
"Wonderful!" He chirped. "I've been trying to get rid of the blasted thing for ages." His eyes ran surreptitiously up and down my body. "I'll be back in five. Be ready."
My skin shivered as the door shut behind him and I carefully leaned the staff back up against the wall, eying it warily. Did he know? If it weren't for his penchant for money I might suspect, but such an artifact would surely be worth more than the man's livelihood.
No, he hadn't the foggiest of what that thing was capable of. No doubt it had been bringing him bad luck for as long as he'd had it. Arcane things had a tendency to do that to the ignorant.
And he had just given it to me. A part of me was nagged with guilt at having so thoroughly jilted him, but I found justification in the fact that it was probably safer in my hands than it would be in his or anyone else's he might pawn it to.
Now I just had to figure out what to do with it.
But first, to get dressed. I slipped out of the white clerics robe that I'd worn on the way here and hung it neatly on the coat rack. The silk harem pants that I wore were wine colored, slit down the side and hung with polished coin bangles. A belt of six five inch bladed daggers was concealed carefully beneath my black chiffon hip scarf. My velvet halter top choli, also wine-colored, had golden embroidery around the edges. The artistic tattoos that spiraled up and down my arms were now visible.
I planted my hands on my hips, the wooden wrist bangles I wore clinking together with a hollow, earthy sound. The last thing I had to do was fix my hair, which required very little but the addition of my silver combs above each braid. Then I was done.
I did a pirouette before the mirror, smiling more confidently than I felt. My eyes strayed unbidden towards the staff. It seemed to have its own gravitational pull.
"Oh!" My mouth fell agape and I quickly reached into the cleric's robe. I retrieved two stylized katana short swords and carefully slid them into the silver scabbards on the back of my choli.
Now I was ready.
"Curtain call!' Greishem shouted from outside the door.
"Coming!" I answered quickly and failed my last ditched effort to leave the staff behind. It hummed beneath my fingers as I crossed the room and opened the door to leave.
Greishem's eyes went wide. "Good Gods." He breathed and grinned suggestively. "Yes indeed. Most auspiciously incorrect." He murmured.
I scowled, blushing in embarrassment. "That is not what he meant."
"Pardon?" Greishem was entirely too preoccupied to comprehend anything beyond his roaming eyes.
"Am I on or not?" I grumbled.
"Oh!" He blinked, shaking his head dazedly. He cleared his throat, "Yes, yes. On you go. Make them cry my dear–make them sob!"
A shiver went up my spine as I mounted the steps to the door that led on stage, the staff held defensively against my chest. The curtains were closed as I slipped through the door and onto the stage. The targets were aligned, spaced with torches set in between. On either side of the stage were drummers and wooden flutists. There was also a fiddler. All eyes were trained on me for the cue.
Remember to breath, Penelo. This is nothing you haven't done before.
I crossed the floor to the center, faced the curtain within inches of my nose, and poised myself to begin. My heart was the wing-beat of a humming bird as I closed my eyesGrieshem was announcing to the crowd on the other side with mixed reaction, but the overall consensus was good, judging by the volume of clapping. That I could hear the audience at all indicated there was a fair number of them out there.
Keep breathing.
A voice whispered from off to the side, "Ready?"
I nodded mutely and opened my eyes.
The curtains glided away smoothly, revealing tepid faces beyond. Firelight flickered warmly from towering oil lamps onto the gathering of a maybe hundred. They had come to fill up the bottom three rows surprisingly. Of course there were at least 20 rows in all, but it was better than I'd allowed myself to hope and that's all that mattered.
My lips curved back into a wide, sure smile as I swept forward into a deep bow. I stepped to the left, planted the staff into the wood and vaulted myself into the air in a tight circle to land on the far side of the stage. I made my way gradually across to the opposite side, twisting a shoulder scarf around my body like a tornado, careful not to touch the fabric. I returned to center stage with a subtle cue to the musicians in the back.
I dance for you, brother.
My feet moved to the beat of the drums and the drawing of the fiddler's bow as the music drifted out into the crowd. The first act was always a song and dance, usually something gratifying and uplifting to the spirit so as to put everyone into the mood for entertainment, and to prepare me for the night ahead.
And I know you're not much for singing, but try to listen too... The staff came alive.
---
Bonfires dot the rolling hillsides,
Figures dance around and around,
To drums that pulse out echoes of darkness,
Moving to the pagan sound.
---
Somewhere in a hidden memory,
Images float before my eyes,
Of fragrant nights of straw and of bonfires
Dancing till the next sunrise...
---
I can see the light in the distance
Trembling in the dark cloak of night
Candles and lanterns are dancing, dancing
A waltz on All Souls Night...
---
Magic sparked in every step, leap, and turn. It felt so effortless and free. I had practiced this dance endlessly over the years, but never had it come to me so seamlessly. It was like a dream in which nothing is out of place–no faltered landings, no misstep, no pause in stride. I could have been singing for the Gods.
---
Figures of cornstalks bend in the shadows
Held up tall as the flames leap high
The green knight holds the holly bush
To mark where the old year passes by.
---
I can see the lights in the distance
Trembling in the dark cloak of night
Candles and lanterns are dancing, dancing
A waltz on All Souls Night.
---
I could feel the tension in the air and see their anticipation. The crowd was glued to the stage. To see the skepticism melt from their faces was the greatest gratification. They weren't doubting anymore.
I grinned, I've got this.
---
Bonfires dot the rolling hillsides
Figures dance around and around
To drums that pulse out echoes of darkness
Moving to the pagan sound.
---
Standing on the bridge that crosses
The river that goes out to the sea
The wind is full of a thousand voices
They pass by the bridge and me...
---
When the last drum reverberated through the arena and my feet finally came to rest the audience erupted with eager approval. There was even a whistle or two. They were four rows deep now.
I set the staff on the floor in front of me, a part of me almost glad to be rid of it as restraining its power during the first dance had been difficult. My hands lifted to grasp the hilt of my swords–the second cue–and a quicker, more intense drumbeat rumbled from behind me. This was the sword dance song, a warriors drum beat. A swell of excitement formed in the pit of my stomach and spread through the rest of my body.
I surrounded myself with invisible enemies and proceeded to defeat them fro the pleasure of the viewers. Sometimes it was a re-enactment of a past battle and sometimes it was something entirely new, but always insurmountable odds, which were easily overcome when it was all staged in your head.
There was a technique to knowing how to make a sword sing though, or in the simple catching of the light so that the blade shimmers, only to make it vanish. It was an art all its own and one that I had tried to master many times, albeit unsuccessfully, and was only now beginning to grasp. I was good enough at a distance to trick the them though.
The throwing daggers were the true thriller in large part because they were always unexpected. It was both my favorite and most dreaded act. My aim was not always perfect, but I could usually avoid being dreadful. Hitting the target, whether in the center or not, was the primary goal.
When the sword dance had finished, Greishem arrived on the scene, avidly beaming at me. He milked the audience for all their worth until their hands must have stung from the clapping. He winked at me then and announced an intermission.
"Splendid." He declared as the rustling crowd disbanded not very far and conversation drowned out any voices from on stage."Shall I bring a Judge in shining armor for you to enchant before the masses? Maybe you can make him dance!"
I inhaled sharply, aghast, "No!"
Greishem frowned slightly, "Why ever not? Afraid it won't work? Oh I bet you can do it."
On the contrary, I was all too afraid it might work. Once upon a time dancers were near deadly with their art. "Remember that part about being gutted in a back alley?" I retorted. "The 'disappearing' act isn't in my repertoire."
"Oh, but I'm sure Gabr-"
"Absolutely not!" I blurted out a few octaves higher than intended. Members of the audience glanced our way, curious. My cheeks flushed deep red.
Greishem wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I detect an unusual degree of endearment for someone whose status, not to mention age, far outranks your own."
My eyes hardened fiercely. "You misunderstand, sir." I imparted gravely, "And I'd appreciate it if you leave my status out of it or I'll walk out of this arena right now and never come back."
"N-no!" He cried, panicked. His hands grasped mine possessively. They were hot and sweaty to the touch.
I pulled free sharply. "Then go away."
Greishem backed away with a deft bow, "As you wish, milady." His eyes shifted cunningly as he scuttled from the stage, calling behind him, "But I shall return."
I managed to escape around back for a breath of fresh air. Not paying attention to where I was going at the time, I was unexpectedly accosted by a shadow in the dark and nearly jumped out of my skin. The shadow and I collided. It was a very sturdy, unyielding shadow unfortunately, from which I bounced off quite forcefully. If not for a pair of deft hands I would have found myself sitting on the ground rather than in the offending shadow's startled, but firm embrace.
We stared at one another confoundedly for an instant, neither quite sure of the other, and both of us practically blind. The silhouette of his horned helm as it shifted against the starlit sky gave him away.
"Basch!" I breathed, fervently relieved.
The shadow let go instantaneously with an audible breath. "Your pardon. I was not expecting anyone to be here." He admitted with a nervous laugh.
With good reason too. As my eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness I could make out the outline of a hidden door behind the tall statue in the corner to the left of the back of the stage. It was probably a secret passage utilized by the Judges as a quick go between the Emperor and the outside of the city. Not something I was supposed to know about.
"Oh no, I'm sorry." I groaned. "I didn't mean to-"
"Do not distress yourself." Basch insisted calmly. "I would trust you with the knowledge better than many of those in my order. Larsa would certainly not object."
"I didn't mean to startle you though." I finished with a sigh. "I was getting a bit of fresh air."
"And no doubt you need it." Basch replied. "Your dancing is as marvelous as your voice."
I blushed, "Oh, thank you, but I'm not that good yet." I insisted and glanced over my shoulder worriedly, "I should probably be getting back before Greishem notices I'm gone."
"Indeed." He agreed.
"There you are!" Greishem cried from afar.
Basch and I whirled at the sound, furtively drawing ourselves away from the secret door as the official dashed towards us--he sure was a fidgety fellow.
"I've been looking all over for you. Oh!" Greishem exclaimed with a start as he recognized the tall armored figure beside me. "I see," He coughed, "pardon me."
"Do calm yourself." Basch intoned reproachfully. "It is not what you think."
"Who's thinking anything?" Greisham retorted innocently and waved us back toward the stage front. "Come now. We've not all night. The crowd is restless."
I sighed, shaking my head and gave Basch a commiserative smile as I moved to follow. "I guess I'm on. See you!"
Basch waved in return and then I was running after Greishem. I caught him at the base of the port side staircase. He was peeking eagerly over my shoulder. A shadow cast over his eyes as what he sought had vanished from the scene.
"Where'd that chap go?" He demanded.
I shrugged. "I don't know. Come on– it's time to start. Make sure no one's in a spot where they might catch a stray dagger."
"Oh yes, right." Greishem murmured thoughtfully and bounded up on stage.
The applauds began again as I stepped int the light of the first torch. I bowed once at the top of the stairs and again at center stage. Greishem said a few words to kick off the second half of the performance and the next act began.
Somehow or another the magic staff had come to be in my hands again. It was a marvelous instrument for dancing, far better suited for it than I ever would have guessed. I could almost fly and I certainly vaulted much higher into the air with it. I also found, to my great surprise, that I could levitate it with my magic. That was a small bit of unexpected entertainment that the crowd thoroughly enjoyed.
Then came the dagger throwing dance, and I put emphasis on dance–the objective was to keep the crowd guessing at when the next dagger would be thrown and to which target. If one was exceptionally good they would not know whether a dagger was even thrown until the resounding thud as it landed.
I was not that good, but I drew a few gasps from the crowd. Better yet, my aim was almost faultless–one flier barely caught the edge of the second target. It did catch it though. I redeemed myself by throwing four follow-up bulls-eyes.
The performance had finally came to a close then. For the first time I noticed that the stands were full to the brim with people. I could not smile any bigger than I did right then. The arena shook from their applause while flowers and flower petals of all kinds rained down around me from above. It was a standing ovation.
Through all the noise and uproarious cheering I still managed to discern a final request from the front row of spectators. And just incase I hadn't caught it, Greishem came dashing up to me to reiterate the request most avidly.
"They want you to sing!" He yelled over the ongoing tumult. "Sing, sing!"
"How can I?" I asked loudly. "They'd never hear me over this racket."
"Just open your mouth and go. "Greishem answered bluntly. "They'll pucker right up."
I sighed tiredly and went back to consult with the musicians. Then I returned to center stage with a chair (courtesy of a stage assistant) and a harp. By then the crowd had fallen silent.
My hands ran across the strings with a sigh of contentment as I began. The music drifted tranquilly from the instrument, a lullaby to put the mind and soul at rest. It was about death, somewhat solemn and sad, but I found it soothed a restless spirit. The people might need it after the night's festivities.
Fear no more the heat o' the sun
Nor the furious winters' rages
Thou thy worldly task hast done
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers,
come to dust
---
The scepter, learning, physic, must
All follow this and come to dust
---
Fear no more the frown o' the great
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke
Care no more to clothe and eat
To thee the reed is as the oak.
The scepter, learning, physic, must
All follow this and come to dust.
---
All lover young, all lovers must
Consign to thee and come to dust.
---
Fear no more the lightning flash,
Nor the' all-dreaded thunder-stone
Fear not slander, censure rash
Thou hast finished joy and moan
All lovers young, all lovers must
Cosign to thee and come to dust
---
It always made me want to cry.
They stood once more to send off the night and then, almost subdued, the audience filed out of the arena one after another. A number of them did come down to meet me however, some of them in tears of grateful joy, to my uncertain astonishment. That was uncomfortable to say the least, but not entirely unexpected. 'Cymbeline' affected some people that way.
Then they too left and soon there was naught but I, an armful of flowers, and a refreshing night breeze that remained. Greishem had disappeared and the stage assistants had finished up for the night. The torches burned on gaily. I was exhausted, but still reveling in the moment...and waiting for someone.
I had finally made it. My brother always said that I would someday. It's too bad he never got to see it. I would've settled for Vaan, but he had gone off on a co-pirating gig with Balthier and Fran. It was an "uber important mission", he had so informed me, and therefor could not come.
But Basch had come. We might have been strangers for the last three years, but time would never forget what we had gone through down in the buried city, or the life debts that we forever shared. If only it hadn't been so long since our last meeting.
He remembered me and that's all that mattered.
Author's notes: OMG, I got it done. Yes, I did have chapter 4 finished and yes, I was going to post it a long time ago, but...I canned it and started over at the most inopportune moment, which basically brought progress to a screeching halt. That really shouldn't happen again. I'm crossing my fingers anyway. I've got this story carefully planned out-I just have to get it written.
Anyhow, I hope that the enormous length of this chapter might redeem me for having made you all wait so long. This and most of the next chapter will be a brief respite from the action, but it won't last long.
Happy reading and reviewing (oh, and Happy Easter too)!