Jen'atar shena Jor'ethan, shaman of the Clan of the wolf, was exhausted. Keeping a blood-path Adept from using his Gift was not a task her power - or her Goddess's power - was suited to. Being forced to do exactly that for a week, right until their k'Leshya allies arrived, had wrung out her mind and left her body weaker than a yearling's. As is, Jor'ethan was very lucky that their cousins had arrived - another few hours, and not even the Goddess's personal blessing would have kept her shield from failing.
Too bad we can't just kill that piece of sheka, she thought groggily, not quite crawling into her tent. How the man had gotten this far into the Dhorisha Plains was something they all needed to know, and to prevent from ever happening again. The dark Adept had been caught halfway to the ruins; even thinking of what he could have done with the remaining artifacts there sent chills up her spine. Nearly four hundred years ago some of the artifacts in the ruins had been used, and their use had generated enough power to cancel out the second set of Mage Storms. The activation of another artifact could very well bring on a third set - not that she would allow it, not while a heart still beat in her weary body.
Trying to ignore creaking bones, Jen'atar groaned and lowered herself slowly onto a pile of multi-hued cushions. If the Goddess had any mercy, the rest of the Clan would let her sleep for a week...
Just as her eyes fluttered closed, someone tentatively cleared their throat; silently cursing her avocation, fate, and her conniving Goddess, Jen'atar peeled back her eyelids and stared at the intruder. When the intruder didn't take the hint, the shaman heaved a resigned sigh and levered herself into a sitting position, beckoning the woman closer with a half-hearted gesture.
The figure resolved itself into Linala, a very young woman indeed. Quickly sitting across from her, Linala glanced around nervously, all the while clutching a pendent in her hand. After a moment the woman visibly gathered herself, looking into the shaman's eyes with a reluctance that was all to plain -
- and revealed all to clearly why she'd come. Even a novice would have been able to sense the inner struggle Linala was going through, would have known - from her pinched expression and haunted eyes - that she needed help now. Kicking her fogged mind awake, Jen'atar leaned forward and grasped the girl's hand, trying to appear strong and all-knowing.
A real feat, whispered an inconsequential part of her mind, when I haven't had any true rest in a week.
Linala visibly calmed, toying with her pendant as she half-whispered, "I need help, shaman; I - I just don't know what to do -" Breaking off, she stared blanking at the tent wall for a moment before speaking again, each word coming slowly - as if drawn against her will. "I'm - in love. Beyond love; I can't live without him! But - but it can never be." The hand clutching the pendent had turned white, as white as her face had become. In a trembling voice, she continued, "Tell me that it'll be alright, tell me that we can be together - forever -"
Jen'atar quickly leaned forward and hugged the sobbing girl. Was it a lifebond that was causing so much trouble - and why could they never be together? The Shin'a'in were very open-minded about pairings, and true love had never been stopped by Clan boundaries before. No; it was more likely that she'd fallen for an outClansman, and didn't realize that the man in question would be eligible to join Jor'ethan.
"Child," she murmured soothingly, exercising her elderly right to call almost anyone a child, "Linala, whomever he is, Jor'ethan would accept him-"
The girl was already shaking her head, sending fine tendrils of black hair across her face. Pulling back, Linala murmured resentfully, "No - he would never be accepted here!" An unidentifiable, disturbing glint had entered the girl's eyes, complimenting an expression that was so mixed it might well have been a mask.
Blinking leaden eyes several times, the shaman sternly told her mind to start working. An outClansman who the Clans would never accept - a cripple, perhaps? Maybe someone who disliked horses. No matter; Linala seemed dead certain that he wouldn't, so it'd be best to assume she was right. Now, in that case, the only solution would be for Linala to leave the Clans and join her beloved wherever he lived.
If she's that in love, Jen'atar thought wryly. Leaving the Clans is akin to chopping ones arm off.
"Linala," she said gently, wishing she could read the expression on the woman's face, "to be with him, you may have to pay a price." At her completely blank, lost expression, Jen'atar hurriedly continued. "Sometimes, even love has a price; the question is whether or not you are willing to pay it."
The girl's blank look didn't change an inch; if anything, she looked even more confused. Groaning mentally, the shaman searched her tired brain for an appropriate example - and came up with a lengthy one. Resigning herself to another sleepless night, Jen'atar summoned the words to the tale, lifting the girl's chin to stare directly into her eyes, "Listen to this story, Linala, and take the lesson to heart." The girl nodded once, a flicker of comprehension in her eyes as she settled more comfortably into her cushion.
Jen'atar copied her, trying to settle her old bones into a position that wouldn't become overly painful in a few hours. Donning her best story-telling mask, the shaman began in the serious tone that such stories deserved, "Here is a tale; hear it with your heart, for it is as true as the Hand of the Star-Eyed and as sure. In the time when my father roamed the Plains, not so very long ago, the Firefalcon Clan traveled to the city of Kata'shin'a'in. It was in late autumn, near the time when the Clans leave the city; the group of Clansmen was running late, and would have a only a week or two before winter drove them out. Among the group were two siblings, Jia'drin and Seanna, who were to help their parents in the city. Their parents, however, had ridden out earlier, bargaining the lonely trip against a few extra days at Kata'shin'a'in..."
The feverish glint hadn't left Linala's eyes, but at least she was listening. Hopefully the tale would give the girl something to think about, would prevent her from doing anything drastic until the situation could be dealt with - and maybe the story would show the girl a price she wasn't willing to pay.
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