From: ibanda@aol.com (I Banda)
Date: 03 Jan 1998 01:19:40 EST
You have known my names for centuries, have sounded them upon your gongs. In whispers you have spoken them and in silence I have heard you.
And you, who have no name for me, who know me only by the divine breath in your lungs, you I have heard most of all. In your sighs and tears have I known your travails, in your sleep have I listened...
...by your dreams, I have answered.
--the Holy Book of Tadj
A leaf skittered, breeze-borne along the ground, just far enough ahead of her to avoid being crushed by her foot. She wasn't walking quickly; she wasn't sure where she was headed except to know that she would probably never arrive. It could not be long now.
It was cold, and she had no cloak. Her fingers were numb and her hair, loose and tangled, whipped at her arms in stinging lashes that she would never have felt on a warmer night. The sky had already turned faint, diluted by the light of an invisible sun. But still she walked--toward the knoll and the crescent moon beyond it, for lack of any other direction.
Princes and knights, swords and honor! She wrapped her arms around herself and laughed up at the thinning sky. Great life, the best of adventures! And tonight she had lived--lived, for the space of almost seven fine hours--through it all. Had she the choice, she would have walked that hillside to the edge of the moor right then. Had she the choice, she would never have left. But she was fortunate as it was, and there was always tomorrow. Tomorrow,
when the night would come and beckon her to mortal breath again.
Dawn stretched with feeble fingers up over the east. How often had she seen it? And yet, still corporeal, she walked--past the hill now and toward the grasslands beyond the edge of town. She could no longer feel her fingers and her own ankles seemed numb and dull--nothing of the adroit things they had been earlier. Her breath, as cold in her lungs as the chill in her fingers, shook when she drew it, but she walked on. Surely it could not be long now.
By early morning travelers had stopped to mark her, to point and call her a harlot for her dress. They never seemed to note that she was cold, that her lips, so dark, had turned blue.
At last she stopped by the foot of a tree, curled painfully down against its roots. She could not feel the bark at her back where it scored her skin and caught at her bodice, tugging some of the beading free. She could feel little now but the waiting... the waiting. It could not be long...
At long last, when the frost had melted and dried from the grass, when the sun had dappled its way through the leafless boughs of her arborial bed, she closed her eyes. Such novelty... such wonder to do it, to sleep... to dream, in those last lingering moments, of a woman who slept and also dreamed...
...of Banda herself.
To Dream, To Be
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From: percival@aol.com (Percival)
Date: 09 Jan 1998 16:13:21 EST
In my ignorant arrogance, I thought myself immune...
As usual, they met first in the ring. Curved knife a silver sliver of the new moon, crossed with the straight rapier, its edge dull and unsharpened as the promise of love unrequited.
"Hello once more," said she, her eyes the obsidian of a moonless night.
"Come to perforate my heart again?" asked he, matching her sweeping salute.
She let the whisper of the cobalt silk she wore be her only response as the ivory-handled blade flashed out, quick as thought. He blocked it with a turn of his wrist, steel grinding against steel, his eyes only for hers.
Impasse.
She leapt back, the knife slicing a wide arc to come to rest by her right hip as they circled. "You try often to engage, but hardly ever to conquer," she murmured, her voice barely more audible than the soft song of the gold links around her midriff.
"I prefer an independent opponent." he whispered back, their blades flashing out again as they passed one another in the deadly dance.
"What else is there, but independent opponents? Do we not all die alone?" She blocked his sudden attack with the speed of a striking cobra.
"I have no need to conquer." The rapier swung high, only a feint, as a fast counter-slash struck her shoulder with the soft accompaniment of tearing silk. He smiled. "The fight is oft better than the finish.."
She stumbled with the blow but quickly regained her feet, glancing to her shoulder then back to his eyes. She then tilted her head and continued to circle, the ebon braid swinging back and forth behind her as she moved, graceful as a hunting cat, the braid's arc as sure as any pendulum.
He gave a slight shrug, without remorse, and then lashed out with another sudden strike -- but like catching at a wayward moonbeam, she pivoted gracefully on the ball of a slippered foot, and a flick of her knife left a crimson trail along his left collarbone, the blade's razor edge easily penetrating the thin linen of his white shirt as his own blade damaged naught but the air. He took the wound with equanimity, his thin lips quirking in a wry
smile as if the caress of her steel was a pleasure.
A flurry of blows followed, the sparks struck from the clashing steel only serving to further increase the intensity of the heat in the ring.
She spoke softly. "You fight like a man driven. Or a man moonstruck."
He shook his head. "Neither, m'lady. I fight with simple passion."
"Passion springs from only a few sources. I wonder which is yours?"
"It is merely my love of the duel, with a worthy opponent such as thee."
But his eyes betrayed him.
Date: 09 Jan 1998 16:13:21 EST
In my ignorant arrogance, I thought myself immune...
As usual, they met first in the ring. Curved knife a silver sliver of the new moon, crossed with the straight rapier, its edge dull and unsharpened as the promise of love unrequited.
"Hello once more," said she, her eyes the obsidian of a moonless night.
"Come to perforate my heart again?" asked he, matching her sweeping salute.
She let the whisper of the cobalt silk she wore be her only response as the ivory-handled blade flashed out, quick as thought. He blocked it with a turn of his wrist, steel grinding against steel, his eyes only for hers.
Impasse.
She leapt back, the knife slicing a wide arc to come to rest by her right hip as they circled. "You try often to engage, but hardly ever to conquer," she murmured, her voice barely more audible than the soft song of the gold links around her midriff.
"I prefer an independent opponent." he whispered back, their blades flashing out again as they passed one another in the deadly dance.
"What else is there, but independent opponents? Do we not all die alone?" She blocked his sudden attack with the speed of a striking cobra.
"I have no need to conquer." The rapier swung high, only a feint, as a fast counter-slash struck her shoulder with the soft accompaniment of tearing silk. He smiled. "The fight is oft better than the finish.."
She stumbled with the blow but quickly regained her feet, glancing to her shoulder then back to his eyes. She then tilted her head and continued to circle, the ebon braid swinging back and forth behind her as she moved, graceful as a hunting cat, the braid's arc as sure as any pendulum.
He gave a slight shrug, without remorse, and then lashed out with another sudden strike -- but like catching at a wayward moonbeam, she pivoted gracefully on the ball of a slippered foot, and a flick of her knife left a crimson trail along his left collarbone, the blade's razor edge easily penetrating the thin linen of his white shirt as his own blade damaged naught but the air. He took the wound with equanimity, his thin lips quirking in a wry
smile as if the caress of her steel was a pleasure.
A flurry of blows followed, the sparks struck from the clashing steel only serving to further increase the intensity of the heat in the ring.
She spoke softly. "You fight like a man driven. Or a man moonstruck."
He shook his head. "Neither, m'lady. I fight with simple passion."
"Passion springs from only a few sources. I wonder which is yours?"
"It is merely my love of the duel, with a worthy opponent such as thee."
But his eyes betrayed him.
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From: percival@aol.com (Percival)
Date: 26 Jan 1998 05:16:21 EST
He leapt back, bringing the rapier on guard, his chest heaving with breaths like the gasps of a drowning man.
She fingered the rent in her blouse. "Once more, you have out-skilled me."
He tilted his head in response as he caught his breath, smiling wryly. "Not by much, m'lady. Thy skill will prevail aught."
She gave a soft chuckle, the cerulean hues of her blouse now sadly slashed and rent. "My skill prevails me naught," she murmured, her eyes dropping to survey the damage to her attire, then lifting to acknowledge his equally slashed garb.
He stepped closer and reached out to pull up the edge of her torn blouse. "I apologize for the damage to thy attire, or any wounds I might have caused thee."
She brushed his concern aside. "There is little damage done." Her eyes fell to where his hand touched her sleeve, then pulled slowly away. "You linger over me and yet I am fine."
"I am not concerned for thy health… Banda." He whispered her name like the recitation of a prayer. His hand fell to his side, and he blushed slightly, like a schoolboy.
"My clothing then?" she teased, or perhaps it was only the shade of the moon once again, passing across her obsidian eyes.
He shook his head. "No, not for thy clothing…"
"No?"
"No. I…." He twisted the rapier still hanging from his right hand to cover his sudden loss for words. "It is enough for me to meet thee in the ring, and yet…" He looked again to her kohl-rimmed eyes. "If I wish for more, then am I a fool?"
She met his gaze with a placid expression. "What more is there, for a knight with your charge?"
"Do you honestly wish to find out?" He absently touched the back of a linen shirt-cuff to his wounded head, then let the hand fall back to his side, the cuff reddened with blood.
"I might learn simply by asking, and by your answer." Her eyes dropped to the stained cuff, then back up to his face. "It was not fighting of which I spoke."
"Ask then," he replied, "and I shall reply as I am able." He stepped closer to her, reaching out to touch his unsullied hand to her cheek. She started, as though surprised by the touch.
Quietly she spoke. "You are bold. More so, because you know what I am."
"Am I bold? Have we not touched this way many times before today -- or do you remember truly? For each time we meet is it like starting anew."
"Yes, I remember," she replied, but her voice faltered, as if memory were the fragile crust on the edge of an icy precipice, not to be trusted. She pulled back again, away from the touch of his hand. "I remember your face, always, and your name…."
She brought a hand to her face to tear away her veil where it dangled against her cheek. His eyes raised reflexively to her exposed face, then he looked away quickly, feeling his pulse pound in his throat.
She regarded him, dusky lips the color of dark wine pursed, and tightened her grip around her ivory-handled blade. "Shall we continue?"
He nodded and raised the rapier back to guard. She wasted no time, pressing in for another attack, the long vents in the cobalt silk caressing her legs, opening to reveal dark, olive skin. He quickly sidestepped and brought the rapier down with an off-speed attack to trace a line down her exposed side. She gave a ferine scowl and whipped the dagger around, the razor edge barely missing his sword-arm as he twisted back.
He shook his head at the ferocity of her attack, trying to recover his balance.
"We should wager, you and I," she murmured as she circled.
"A wager?" He stepped back and lowered his guard. "I would… but what I would ask I do not think you can deliver."
She paused impatiently. "You should leave it to me to determine that."
"Very well," he sighed. "I would only ask that thou remain with me one night, for as long as I would wish, and not fade to mist." He smiled sadly. "It is too much to ask."
"Indeed it is, though for as long as I am able, for one night, I will remain." Her eyes looked deep into his. "If you win."
"And if you should win?"
"If I win, I will decide at the time." To her, it seemed a reasonable enough request.
"I agree, as long as the wish is no more than I may accomplish."
"Of course."
He nodded and lifted his blade again, though the tip wavered, reflecting the uncertain desire of his purely mortal flesh.
Date: 26 Jan 1998 05:16:21 EST
He leapt back, bringing the rapier on guard, his chest heaving with breaths like the gasps of a drowning man.
She fingered the rent in her blouse. "Once more, you have out-skilled me."
He tilted his head in response as he caught his breath, smiling wryly. "Not by much, m'lady. Thy skill will prevail aught."
She gave a soft chuckle, the cerulean hues of her blouse now sadly slashed and rent. "My skill prevails me naught," she murmured, her eyes dropping to survey the damage to her attire, then lifting to acknowledge his equally slashed garb.
He stepped closer and reached out to pull up the edge of her torn blouse. "I apologize for the damage to thy attire, or any wounds I might have caused thee."
She brushed his concern aside. "There is little damage done." Her eyes fell to where his hand touched her sleeve, then pulled slowly away. "You linger over me and yet I am fine."
"I am not concerned for thy health… Banda." He whispered her name like the recitation of a prayer. His hand fell to his side, and he blushed slightly, like a schoolboy.
"My clothing then?" she teased, or perhaps it was only the shade of the moon once again, passing across her obsidian eyes.
He shook his head. "No, not for thy clothing…"
"No?"
"No. I…." He twisted the rapier still hanging from his right hand to cover his sudden loss for words. "It is enough for me to meet thee in the ring, and yet…" He looked again to her kohl-rimmed eyes. "If I wish for more, then am I a fool?"
She met his gaze with a placid expression. "What more is there, for a knight with your charge?"
"Do you honestly wish to find out?" He absently touched the back of a linen shirt-cuff to his wounded head, then let the hand fall back to his side, the cuff reddened with blood.
"I might learn simply by asking, and by your answer." Her eyes dropped to the stained cuff, then back up to his face. "It was not fighting of which I spoke."
"Ask then," he replied, "and I shall reply as I am able." He stepped closer to her, reaching out to touch his unsullied hand to her cheek. She started, as though surprised by the touch.
Quietly she spoke. "You are bold. More so, because you know what I am."
"Am I bold? Have we not touched this way many times before today -- or do you remember truly? For each time we meet is it like starting anew."
"Yes, I remember," she replied, but her voice faltered, as if memory were the fragile crust on the edge of an icy precipice, not to be trusted. She pulled back again, away from the touch of his hand. "I remember your face, always, and your name…."
She brought a hand to her face to tear away her veil where it dangled against her cheek. His eyes raised reflexively to her exposed face, then he looked away quickly, feeling his pulse pound in his throat.
She regarded him, dusky lips the color of dark wine pursed, and tightened her grip around her ivory-handled blade. "Shall we continue?"
He nodded and raised the rapier back to guard. She wasted no time, pressing in for another attack, the long vents in the cobalt silk caressing her legs, opening to reveal dark, olive skin. He quickly sidestepped and brought the rapier down with an off-speed attack to trace a line down her exposed side. She gave a ferine scowl and whipped the dagger around, the razor edge barely missing his sword-arm as he twisted back.
He shook his head at the ferocity of her attack, trying to recover his balance.
"We should wager, you and I," she murmured as she circled.
"A wager?" He stepped back and lowered his guard. "I would… but what I would ask I do not think you can deliver."
She paused impatiently. "You should leave it to me to determine that."
"Very well," he sighed. "I would only ask that thou remain with me one night, for as long as I would wish, and not fade to mist." He smiled sadly. "It is too much to ask."
"Indeed it is, though for as long as I am able, for one night, I will remain." Her eyes looked deep into his. "If you win."
"And if you should win?"
"If I win, I will decide at the time." To her, it seemed a reasonable enough request.
"I agree, as long as the wish is no more than I may accomplish."
"Of course."
He nodded and lifted his blade again, though the tip wavered, reflecting the uncertain desire of his purely mortal flesh.