Chapter 3

I met Adaar at the Festival of the Vitaar, a prestigious occasion when the Tamassran assigns a Qunari in their sixteenth year their role in the society and the one day the entire Seheron comes to a standstill. Festivities often last for days, more so when the Maraas-Lok is flowing. It is the only event where the Qunari celebrates freely and often executions are needed to restore order to the village. This official introduction is merely a formality. My training with the military has started in my fourth year of life and today I will join the Antaam, as part of the Beresaad infantry as vanguard of my people, scouting the lands for answers the Arishok might seek. Once the vitaar is painted on my skin, it will harden. I will be a subjected to the rule of the Arishok and serve my people in battle. This is the fate that was decided for me years before by the Tamassran, moments after my birth. There are over three hundred of us being inducted today and the excitement and anxiety in the air is palpable.

There is music and dancing, a rare occurrence to be seen among our people and we watch from our assigned spot in the arena as the festivities grow. The tables are groaning under the weight of the feast laid upon them of fruit, meat and freshly baked breads. As ordered, we remain in our place, watching the festivities with a detached yet interested eye. Unassigned Qunari children are forbidden to attend the festival. The Arishok, leader of the army, the Arigena, leader of the craftsmen and Ariqun, leader of the priests, have already taken their respective places on the three thrones, ready to welcome the new inductees to their new clans.

"Where is the cake? I was told there would be cake. The cake is clearly a lie."

I turn my head towards the voice. It is a girl, taller than most of the Qunari girls, yet still several inches shorter than me. Her frame is muscular and lithe and her apparel showed her to be one of the fifty chosen craftsmen – lead by the Arigena. Her horns protruded in a spiral fashion from her head. She senses my confusion, as she turns a pair of bright yellow eyes towards me before continuing.

"Cake is a human thing. Round things, or square….It is baked, like bread, but sweet and crumbly. There is no word for it in the Qunari tongue. Heavens forbid we should have food that we actually may enjoy without a prescriptive verse from the Qun."

Unsure of how to respond to her knowledge of humans or this cake she speaks of, I choose to remain silent. Our study of humans is limited at best and does not involve their dietary requirements.

"Humans choose their roles, you know." she continues. "They can choose to be a warrior. Or a craftsmen, or a priest. Can you imagine that? Choosing your own fate. The old gods would surely smite us." The girl shakes her head as she laughs and does not try to hide the slight mocking tone from it. "I can imagine the Arigena's face if I tell her I choose to be a warrior rather than a craftsmen. That would be a sight to behold."

I smile despite myself. The girl laughed at me.

"By the horns of my ancestors….did a warrior boy just SMILE at me? I don't think I have ever seen a soldier smile! Can you do that again? You know…for research purposes."

I laugh out loud and shake my head. The girl laughs back and me and takes a deep bow.

"I am Adaar, craftswoman for the Arigena and seeker of knowledge I have no business seeking or knowing."

"Sten, of the Beresaad."

The girl laughed again. She is pretty, with an angular face and striking yellow eyes.

"Of course you are. Talented vanguard and warrior of the Qunari Antaam! Sten is not your real name, of course, merely your class one day far in the future…but I shall call you Sten."

I open my mouth to respond but am interrupted by the loud trumpeting of horns announcing the start of the ceremony. The leader of craftsmen, the Arigena, rises from her throne, and motions for the girls' group to move forward.

"Panahedan, Sten of the Beresaad." Adaar laughs and winks. "We shall surely meet again."