3. Rani of the Rose's Smile

Rani of the Rose's Smile


  • Character: Rani of the Rose's Smile
    Player: sciolist

    Another warm evening in the city of Chebk, Mulhorand. The heat of the day hadn't yet faded from the stones, and the night was clear as a sparkling veil drawn over the darkest ebony. Rani reclined graciously on the balcony, not deigning to stand at the balustrades and allow another lovestruck poet the luxury of seeing her.

    "O Rani, you art truly the flower of all flowers, crafted by the Gods in beauty. Your waist and colour know no parallel except in Ban branches and finest amber…"

    She frowned prettily at the compliment despite its inelegant phrasing and stepped forward to the balcony. Once again, the sight of her was sufficient to rob another pitiful bard of his reason and the words from below faltered. Her dark, kohl-rimmed eyes sparkled as she raised her arms and turned slowly in place, showing off a gold-embroidered green silk robe from Jaizan, one of the wealthier trading houses of Tihama. A row of gold coins decorated her forehead below a jasmine-covered headdress whose scent enveloped her like a mist. Floral designs traced in henna danced on her forearms. Perhaps this one had wit, if not talent, for he returned to lavish descriptions of her beauty within moments.

    "Ah! Your face is sorcery, as of an idol of Hathor; your cheeks are the shame of roses, your mouth is cut from a single ruby, your chin marked by a forgotten smile. Oh, and your eyes! Two, they are; antelope eyes where the black pastured upon the white, in the shadow of the curved swords of the lashes."

    She yawned, shielding the indecorous gesture from her admirer with an intricately worked fan. This was dull. The man below was dull, and probably only interested in tying his fortune to the only daughter of Mekhar. Of course not, that wouldn't be the only thing he was interested in. Rani turned smoothly, allowing her bracelets to jingle like a carillon of tiny bells and returned to the couch.

    It was stupid custom, for daughters of age to be available thus to passing suitors. Even if the fact that he'd made it past the dogs, the guards and her younger brother meant he was of good breeding and a socially acceptable match. Why end up in a life with a dullard who only has a fleeting grasp of scansion and none of rhyme? Growing old, breeding sons for another line. Her life stretching forward into soireés, cushions, music and entertainment. Dull.

    At least she'd been educated well, the house magus had sensed a keen mind behind the pretty eyes and made available texts from the darker rooms of his library. She suspected her father wouldn't approve, and made careful effort to work minor magics that might amuse children in his presence. Dancing lights, fleeting illusions and certainly none of the magics to weaken and corrupt minds. What husband would trust or want a woman who could do such things? Certainly not the nobility of Chebk.

    Rani looked at the maps again. Her Chessentan was fluent, many in Unther spoke either Mulhorand, or Chessentan. Why not just go? She'd heard of wandering folk, seeking knowledge and adventure. The servants spoke with disdain of such irresponsible layabouts. That freedom, though... That opportunity... Access to the Magus' library had only piqued her curiousity.

    The poet outside finally fell silent. What value to be immortalised in verse or song? What a pale reflection of true immortality... The books hinted at terrible prices to be paid for such knowledge, but surely everything had it's price. Rani packed the atlas and the other valuable books away in the bag. Soon, would be the night of the dark moon. Soon, she could leave.


  • Reviewed - XP Pending.