This is an excerpt from the first chapter of the first book in my fantasy series "The Noviyariad", which I am writing, for the first time ever translated into Engrish. With excuse for spelling errors, I now present it.
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]CHAPTER 1[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]ONCE UPON A TIME...[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]14 Aryemi, 7779[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]I[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Avela Dachiriss was not exactly the kind of young woman who searched for excitement or fun. She was calm, down in mood and a bit shy og herself. Earlier, on the morning of this fateful day, she had sat on the chocolatte shop Sause due Chocolatte, in the commercial Sephar Airport in Thinundor. The few men who had noticed her - this unmoved woman in the stimming, stressed ocean of people, had in their eyes noticed that she was lonely and owned a certain degree of cuteness. Then they had went on with their business, taken their bags and moved away to the ticket lines.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]When she had sat there, alone with a cup of creamy chocolate, she had seemed försjunken lost in her own little world. She was tall for being a woman, but she had sat a bit bend, as she were trying to make herself small and invisible. Her straight, yellow hair was cut in a simple paige-haircut. [/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]On her nose, a pair of big and square, blue-toned glasses rested. It was as if she hide her big, very light blue eyes for the world. There was something thin over her face, even though the cheeks were rounded. It was probably the chin which made it look that way – with its little point – and the neck which was long and aristocratic. The only thing definetly female about her was the lips, which were both big and full of colours. Her bust was not of the bigger size but not very flat either. [/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]She had been dressed in a discrete grey jacket over a blue-grey blouse with a matching dress. At her feet, a travel bag of brown leather rested.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]She had cried this morning.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Why, why had she replied a yes to the letter from her employer? Why had she for the first came to the idea to reply to the advert, when she did'nt know who it was who had written it in the first place?[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Avela Dachiriss, originally from a little village, The Oak, outside of the small town of Levenethane in Zeytshanya, never had any intentions of making any fuss about herself. She was a believer. She did not taste alchohol. She had not had any intimate relationships for eternities. Everything she had done was to apply to the Blaghes Red Dove College, for the Secretary Programme, and completing all her grades except gymnastics with fine results and a certain amount of absence, as if she was a puppet pulled in the strings. Then, she had thought with an optimistic glee, the local labour market would be under her feet. She had discovered that good grades from teachers was'nt enough in the fine art of pursuing a job. Rather than moving back to her parents, she would gladly become a mineress in the Shining Mountains.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]During one period, she had worked at a sallad stand in the city plaza, but her employer had been forced to end his business when a local goblin clan – or a ”syndicate” as they now called themselves, had decided to ”protect” a landlord who now was entitled to a fine little monopoly in exchange of other benefits.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]During the winter Avela had lived on some petty works, like shoveling snow, selling candy at the small mall in the centre, but never, ever, ever thought of the thought of prostitute herself, as so many other girls from the poorer regions did. Instead, she had persisted, skipped food some days, shoplifted a can of beans then and then. She ought to [/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]have at least some decency[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace].[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]It might have been as it have, but her faith and preserverance had led her straight, when she on a frozen winter's day had been on the Western Library had seen one advert which was placed on the wall-table. It had asked for a female secretary of class A1 – her qualifications – for a ten-hour work day with a month's pay of 1500 silver regents. That was at least more than her tiny pay of 100 regents month she had enjoyed when she sold vegetables![/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]She had stolen the advert, shivering with fear of being caught but sooth and calm in her looks and appearance.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Well at home in her ice-cold one room apartment, she had written an application letter and attached her grades. One month went. Two months went. It had turned into spring. Then the answer had arrived. It said that she had passed and was enlisted to appear at a work interview in Dengayles. Of course, she had not bothered reading the small print, which stipulated that the application in the same time was a contract. She was obliged to partake in the interview.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]With the reply, a sky ticket turn and return from Blaghes to Thinundor had followed. A name badge and a small map over the Thinundian mountains had followed.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]She had sat there on the café for about one hour after debarking from the airship. Sometimes, she had quietly sipped her chocolate, but more often just stared down the mirror-clean table. [/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]They had so much blood on their hands. They could murder anyone they wanted to unpunished. Some years ago, they even had... done something to the father of her once best friend. Something which had caused him to die under terrible pains. [/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]A man with a friendly smile dressed in casual civilian clothes arrived at her table and sat down in front of her. With a badge which he plucked out of his pocket, he signaled that it was he who was chosen to pick her up. He was employed by the Union Army, the people who had called upon her to come to the work interview – the people who would scrutinize her with cold, reptilian eyes.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]She had looked upon him, not catched his name – she still had blocked ears after the after the tour on the airship. The man had a clean-shaven face with neat water-combed black hair. He was somewhat shorter than her. Another man joined him. He had carrot-dyed hair, a flat, shovel-like face and broad shoulders. He wanted to shake her hands. When they had done so, her voice had shivered in fear.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]These were the men who would take her to Dengayles. To a place which she never had known that she had feared so much. They had led her through the swarming sea of people in the enormous airport. The short one had led her, while the big one had walked behind her, blocking her retreat path. Avela felt like puking. She had frozen, despite that it was a warm day in the spring. She felt resigned, as she had given up everything that she was. The big one had been polite enough to carry her bags. [/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Then, the absolutely worst surprise of the day had manifested itself in front of her. Evidently, they would'nt travel to Dengayles with a cool and pleasant airship, but with a [/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]rotor[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]. A terrible military flying vehicle with two layers of blades in a ring in the middle. It could lift off vertically, and manoeuvre itself through sharp mountain valleys and gorges. But it was uncomfortable, sounded terrible and was probably lethal. Often, such machines malfunctioned. Avela swallowed her discomfort.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Her luggage was harshly stuffed into a small door below the passenger seats. She was ordered to climb up on the metal ladder and take herself a seat. The broad fellow with the carrot-dyed hair had probably drewled over his open view to her panties. Still many days after that, Avela's mind would be tormented by the thought of it.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]The motors of the machine had made a crunching noise and burst into life, like a sluggish dentist drill. The shining grey rotor, with the Hyzalian Cross painted at the sides and machine guns sticking out like mandibles at the front had sat off. The two soldiers who had escorted Avela sat on her right and left side, chattering on some language which she did not understand. She felt exposed and naked.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Ninety minutes later, at the time for lunch, the rotor had clumsily like a bumblebee cruised over the northern offshoots of the Thinundian mountains, a group of wavy green hills, with deep, silver-coloured furrows of fresh water which flowed downstream into Ernirghil – the Great River which was the hub of all civilisation in this world. The great river was visible on Avela's left side, as it slowly glimmered eastward to the mighty Othegar Ocean as a blackish foaming stream, potent and unstoppable by any force, assembling the waters of all lakes, rivers and nations.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]The rotor flew just above the tree tops. If Avela would have wanted, she could have looked out and see roads, villages, lonely vehicles, machines who diligently worked on the small crops, were millet and corn were grown. There were also small groves of holy trees were the Thinundian polytheists offered a percentile of their crops to the local gods. Avela did not see anything of that, because she held her eyes shut. She was still very afraid that the soldiers – especially the big one – would put their hands on her thighs and begin to handle her in a way she would find unacceptable.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]I should have taken the knickers, [/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]she thought for herself. [/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]I should have done it, despite the weather[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]. Think if these men believe I am a promiscuous woman?[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]She had been so worried that she had fallen asleep. When she awoke, the rotor was landing on the small airfield outside of the town of Dengayles. Seven other rotors stood parked near the hangar – a thirty metres long building besides the airfield which looked like a sunken, metallic cylinder which had been forgotten by some giant and just left there.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]When she climbed down the ladder, dizzy and feeling ill, she noted that a group of warning signs with blinkering lights stood around a small crater in the other part of the airfield. A memory of the Twelve Day War last year.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Outside the main bunker, yet another cylinder-shaped building, a flag staff of metal stood in a proud erection. Indolently, the black, red and white Union flag wavered in the warm air. Avela felt how her skin tickled. Yet again, she shivered. Tried to think she was'nt standing there at all. [/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]A group of four legionnaries of four legionnaries dressed in dark grey standard uniforms with red lines, shining black boots came driving with a six-wheeled terrain vehicle with a machine gun platform. They wore no helmets. Avela was grateful because of that. Those black helmets would have scared the breath out of her.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]One of the legionnaries, a young lanky man with ice blue eyes and sand blonde hair presented himself as centurion Asmean Daiger.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]He bounced out of his seat, greeted Avela by taking her hand and kissing it with his pale lips. He smiled and gave her a boyish gaze. The other soldiers had brown-red leathery faces, rough black hair and expressionless eyes. Daiger ordered one of them to climb out from his place and give space to ”miss Dachiriss”. He led her to her place, held her hand all the time until she had sat down. Then he jumped back on his spot, still smiling to her, as if he expected a reward.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Avela was almost ready to embrace the boyish officer, even if the black Zeiss 68 revolver which dangled below his belt in a holster of steel looked nasty. She did not need to say anything, just sit down politely and appear as she was'nt going to puke up. [/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Outside of the airfield, Avela for the first time was forced to show her name badge, which the centurion had been foresighted enough to stretch forward to the two bored guards. After that was done, they were wavered through the gates of the wall surrounding the airfield, and were driving out the open road. The base was surrounded by high firs, but above them towered watch-towers raised in timber. The towers were so large that tents had been raised on their tops.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]What hit her, now when her head had been starting to work rationally again, was that the landscape around the northern offshoots of these mountains was so picturesque. The road was smooth and high-class, asphalted as it was with volcanic ash. It had rails on both sides, to prevent vehicles to slide under the rainy autumn season. This was not at all like the muddy gravel roads back home in the northern Corelands and in her native village of ”The Oak”. This was a really proper road.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]But the nature around her was the most beautiful that she ever had seen. Wild-grown clumps of deciduous trees mixed with pines and wild pastures where flowers in a thousand colours grew. The pastures often were covered with small abandoned mills, dwellings and barns, which had turned grey of age. It was an upland, and as upland areas often were, scarcely populated. Avela almost bounced of joy when a yellow deer graciously leaped over the road. The driver of the vehicle made a not so gracious sudden braking, but for once, Avela did actually not freak out. The sky was blue and covered with wolly white clouds which looked like sheep. Her heart had started to beat normally. [/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Then, they turned in over a broad long valley between two high mountain tops. In the bottom of the valley, an elliptical lake glimmering as silver spread itself out, welcoming Avela. On the other side of the lake – the northern side – a small city lied tempting in the rays of the golden sun. At the west and east sides of the lake, neatly organised villages and crop fields were organised in squarish zones. The buildings were built in the traditional Thinundian light-wood construction, with double roofs which stretched from the tops down to the ground. Round towers were built into the sides of the more wealthy houses. Nearest to the road, pastures with grazing animals were placed. The road was not heavily trafficked, but military vehicles in dark grey colours sometimes rolled by, as did ox carts and – more unusually – civilian motor vehicles. The peasants who sat on the ox carts ignored the military vehicles, and lowered their yellow sunhats over their eyes and made an expression of hurt cockiness in their faces. [/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]The city of Dengayles was not big, but seemed a bit bigger than what it was because many of the districts of the city were bordered by parks, where artificial purling brooks streamed around spouting fountains. Children ran around the parks tending their rock rings, young people sat on the stairs of the fountains eating ice-cream or watching the military vehicles nonchalantly rolling around in the light of the sun.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]The building districts of Dengayles were divided in three different sections. The first section was a suburbian area covered in villas built in the traditional Thindundian style with pointy roofs and decorated walls around the private plots. The second section consisted of commercial and public districts built in dark stone buildings in Culerican style. The last part of the city, the Military Base was built above a slope to the mountains, on a plateau watching over the city. It was like its two walls were defended by the soft civilian and commercial blocks below it, not the other way around.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]They stopped at the first gate, showed their name badges, and the eight legionnaries positioned there demanded Avela's documents. The eyes of the watchmen were shadowed by their coal black tortoise-shaped helmets. She was forced to open her luggage and show them the application before they were wavered through the gate.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Well on the inside of the fort, the driver continued to drive upside the slope, until yet another wall. One with mighty black anti-aircraft guns mounted on the top of the high towers. Sixteen legionnaries manned the watchpost outside of the automated gate doors. They did not seem to feel well in the heat, and had their collars put down on their shoulders. Daiger gave them what appeared as a scolding on that chattering language she did not understand. They gruffingly buttoned their collars again. Without them asking for it, the centurion showed them Avela's application. One of the legionnaries pressed a code on a number pad at the side of the gate, and the massive steel-armored concrete door disappeared into the fortification, allowing them to continue.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]What Avela had'nt known – and that was good for her sanity – was that if there had been the least suspicion that she might have been a terrorist or something else deemed undesirable by the powers that be, she would not have been allowed to enter. In fact, she would have been arrested.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Behind this last fortification, they had arrived up on the plateau, and a city made of light-coloured buildings with a certain classic look. Arcades of marble pillars and lemon-coloured facades managed to both make the city uplifting and tasteless on the same time. The buildings were made of brick and concrete. Several small temples, fountains which pumped up water and even small pittoresque cafés which rested under canopies gave the military base a certain touch of how a civilian life might look like. Avenues of planted trees did their work to hide the austere nakedness of the military barracks and installations. These barracks had a distinct military look, three-floor blocks with balconys of metal stood in line alongst the streets.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]But this was no civilian city. The inhabitants - whether or not they marched in straight lines, directed traffic, or ate or served in the cafeterias, shops and restaurant - where ninety-nine to a hundred of male sex. Besides that, everyone here were hired and paid by the Armed Forces of the Noviyarian Union. [/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Dengayles was no ordinary military base though. It was the place where the cadres of professional officers which the Army depended on were educated. Most likely, it was also the place where the war plans were detailed out and prepared to be sent for execution to the Executive Department of the Union Army.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]And Avela – poor Avela! She had never liked wars, legionnaries or even Union President Reynold! [/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]She had donated money to the Thirzailian Peace Fund for Targon's sake[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]! No, this was not worth any money in the world.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]She had possibly a chance to not get a chance to be applied for the work[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]. [/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]If there was an entrance test, she would try to fail, just to not get this work as secretary.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]II[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]The building was five storeys high. It was a huge, quadratic complex with two off-shooting wings surrounded by a large grass field. It's white walls contrasted against its black, lightly bent roof. On the garden, several trees had placed their roots and grown old and impressive. The Academy occupied almost a whole district in the Eastern side of the city, and this was the main building.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]It was early after lunch. The vehicle was parked outside of the eastern wing. Avela was struck by the classicism of the building, which she had'nt expected. Decorative pillars in Abaurian style, a black sun-evaporative roof which protected the white, lightly blue-toned building. It really stood out from the lemon yellow facades of the other buildings in the area.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Centurion Daiger opened the vehicle door for her, and led her along the wing towards the main entrance. The white gravel road was surrounded by an alley of mighty oak trees. The entrance was a mighty bronze gate placed on the second floor with an impressive marble stairs leading up there. At a piedestal in the middle of the stairs, an old artillery piece – a machinegun from the Liberation Wars – had been placed. At the foot of the piedestal, a text in copper had been ingraved.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Donated by General G. Thirin, 3d of Rinei in the 7750 standard year[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Besides the gates, there was a metallic square with bars across. Centurion Daiger introduced himself and told the invisible person behind the bars that a new candidate for a secretary had arrived. The microphone behind the bars squeaked with a scratching noise, and half a minute later, the gates were automatically opened.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]They stepped into a pale-coloured hall with a oair curved stairs inviting them. The stairs led both down to the first floor and up to the third floor. The building looked quite. A group of officer aspirants sat around a table and watched a monitor which hanged from the roof.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Daiger led Avela alongside the stairs in the middle up to the third floor. They went to a lobby where a bony janitor dressed in a pale grey military uniform sat and filled blanquets. Daiger showed him Avela's application. After carefully reading it, he stamped it without favouring her a gaze. When they left the lobby, they walked across a corridor where one of the walls was adorned with oak doors, old weapons and monters with medals, uniforms and photos from the Great Noviyarian War. The other wall was covered with windows which offered a splendid view of a garden inside the building, with neatly trimmed trees and bushes, stone paths and a magnifique fountain.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]They turned at the left at the end of the corridor, and they encountered a huge hall filled with cupboard doors on the one side of the wall. It was a completely different section of the complex. The hall was divided in two parts by a gold-coloured oak gate. On the other side of that gate the dining-hall revealed itself, coloured in a reddish tone with golden mirrors and enormous mural paintings depiction woods and landscapes. Everything in this building breathed luxury, but not extra-vagance. A homely scent of warm food lied over the athmosphere. Behind the half-opened gates, chatting female voices could be heard.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]When they entered, Avela saw the full greatness of the hall, and she was awed. The hall was open towards the interior garden, and the well-decorated bech-wood wall to the farther short-side was crowned with an epic romantic portrait of a soldier from the Great War. It was depicting a young legionnary covered in coagulated blood and mud, who was led by a flying angel above him. The blonde hairs of the legionnary and the angel gave the painting a distinctive sacred look, and Avela whispered a prayer to her God, so silent that only her lips were moving. Under the painting, a luxurious baroque desk with a marble bust of Gillinger Thirin – the War Hero and founder of this academy – stood and looked inspectingly over the hall, which was filled with wooden tables covered in shamelessly clean tablecloth. [/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]At one of the tables alongside the panorama window, a group of eight women sat. They ate a somewhat late lunch and talked with each-other. In the middle of the crowd, a male officer sat and he seemed quite bored. Daiger put a hand behind Avela's shoulders and tenderly guided her to a cupboard of steel on wheel. He gave her a tray and opened the doors to the cupboard, where the food was placed. She chose to take a hot egg stew and a salad, as well as a glass of icy acidulous water. She still felt a bit bad after the tour in the rotor. [/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]She placed herself two chairs away from the cluster of eating women. Avela had done so since her childhood. She instinctively crouched down over the table. Centurion Daiger understood that there was something wrong with her and sat down on the chair facing hers at the other side of the table. [/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Surely its a beautiful hall, right”, he smiled slantingly. One of his teeth was damaged, and Avela noted that he had not brought anything for himself to eat. Avela gave him a friendly albeit shy smile in return. She had not reflected so much over the hall as over her presence in it.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Young miss have maybe noted that it is very clean, though three thousand cadettes are using it daily?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Avela potted with the napkin over her mouth. ”Mm, its quite clean”, she answered and briefly looked the Centurion in the eyes. He seemed very agreeable despite being a Union Officer.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Believe me miss. Before even entering this hall, the cadettes must partake in a two-week evening course in table manners, as well as good manners in general. Of course, most of them would forget that after their final exams. But at least, we got a clean hall, don't we?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Yes, it is very clean, is'nt it”, Avela commented with a dull, absent-minded voice.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Who's the new one?” a robust sun-tanned woman with sprawling black hair in her forties remarked. She sat on the closest chair on the other side of the table. She spoke with a clear Abaurian accent. [/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Avela sunk her chest and looked down and away. Silent.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Daiger viewed the Abaurian woman with an irritated look in his eyes.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Miss Dachiriss has had a tough journey and is very tired.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Why is she eating then?” the Abaurian woman almost spat. ”Maybe she is ”too classy” for our company?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]It must be the skirt[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace], Avela thought. [/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]They believe I am salacious[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]. Avela nipped her fist below the table, so hard that it turned white and cramped. [/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]Maybe I should have taken a pajama instead. I should have done it. At least, they are Abaurian.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]A lean young Teledoranian woman who sat facing the Abaurian woman looked at Avela with a cold, fish-like gaze. She wore excessive white make-up which contrasted against the strict knot she had tied on the back of her hair.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]She's Marcionian”, she exclaimed, ”certainly it is too much to hope that she would understand a civilised language. Give her a meat bone, and she will soon wag her behind.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Avela placed her palms on the table and looked up with wide eyes and widened nostrils.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]I... am... Zetshanyan. Not... Marcionian! I... have read... five courses... Teledoranian. In my school... it was the first language!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]The Teledoranian woman smiled with a smile which did not reach the eyes. The other women, from Gherln, Teledor and Alcionia had abruptly stopped speaking and had instead begun to whisper amongst themselves. Avela returned to her stew, but she had lost her appetite and felt even more ill.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]She often felt ill[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]...[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]The Officer who sat in the middle of the clung emptied his glass of water, blew up his chest, stretched his bull-neck and signaled that he wanted to say something. With a gesture, he showed that he wanted Avela to sit closer to the rest of the lot.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Young miss there, you are sitting too far away! Please move in closer!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Avela moved two chairs and placed herself next to the Teledoranian woman. She gave a jump when her chair neighbour swiftly and invisibly elbowed her ribs. [/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]The Officer in the middle of the clung was short-grown and bloated and he had the beginning of a double chin. His moustaches were tiny and coquettish.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Well my ladies”, he began with high-pitched voice. ”For you who are a little late, I am sergeant of the third grade. Not too long ago, I myself was a cadette in this Academy. My name is Fahlvar Dimonteis, and I am originally from Thulerica. Firstly, I would like to apologise to those of you who had an uncomfortable journey here.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]It sounded like anm accessible but whiny [/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]”shut up and don't complain”[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace].[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]You have been summoned here because you have applicated for a service. Over a thousand have applicated for this work – ten were of adequate skill to be chosen. You nine are the chosen ones.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]A black-haired Alcionian woman with pale, anemic skin and an emaciated beauty stretched her arm.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Yes?” the sergeant inquired.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Excuse me sergeant for asking. What happened with the tenth?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Sergeant Dimonteis got something dark in his eyes.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]She failed to appear, my ladies. And you should be happy for that, for that means that your chances to be employed have been increased by a fifth. You get one competitor less.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]He harked.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]However, now you nine are here and there are two vacant posts to be filled. In usual cases, we tend to employ new secretaries when autumn terms are staring. But this is a bit of an emergency. A new teacher has appeared in the school, and he need two secretaries to help preparing his course. The teacher, colonel Goadbeiles, is also employed to organise several other courses than his own, and he will have a very stuffed schedual. He will be very busy so to speak.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Dimonteis harked himself again.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]The Academy Board has granted the colonel two secretary posts. The courses are of crucial importance. That's because of the general re-organisation of the Army which has begun to take place since the war last year, and also because these courses are the first of their sort. Your duty will be to make it easier for him to organise them.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]He harked a third time and wiped the sweat off his forehead with his white leather glove.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]So, my ladies. Now when this snack is over, you will accompany me to the colonel's office for inspection. One at a time, you will do the entrance test.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Avela noted how the Abaurian woman snitched a chicken leg and put inside the pocket of her chaperon. She also noted that most of the girls wore light-grey to red dresses stretching down to the calves, as well as decent cardigans which covered their bodily forms and made them look respectable. The Abaurian woman was the exception. Her fat arms were naked, and her lips were painted in an aggressive red colour.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Avela's skirt stretched to the point right above the knees, and she felt a bit filthy, like if they believed her to be a prostitute or something like that.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]All the presumptive secretaries arose from their seats and followed the Officer out of the hall. They walked in a pack, with Avela and Daiger as stragglers. When they stood outside of the hall, Dimonteis stretched himself in an authoritarian pose. He was the head shorter than Avela.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]So, is everyone here? Please call your names on this list!” He wavered with a paper. ”So I know who is who in this group!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]He began to read the paper.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Jaina Amauri, Izavaule, Abauria? Good! Yamahga Ahathrim, Alcion, Alcionia? Good! Martina Cromhloth, Caran, Gherln? Good! Avela Dachiriss, Blaghes, Blaghes? Avela?!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Avela, who looked down the floor, blossomed and mumbled a sighing ”yes”.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Dimonteis gave her a frustrated glance, and continued.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Good[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]! Karissa Gehareth, Shiranda, Teledor? Good!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]When all nine names were finished, they started to walk to the stairs to the forth floor.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Daiger, who walked alongside Avela, explained to her about the paintings on the wall, and she smiled to him without listening.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Dimonteis stopped walking in the middle of the stairs, turned around and cast an eye on the big Abaurian woman, Jaina Amauri as her name was. [/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]It has happened earlier that female personnel has dressed... eh hrm... in ”offensive clothing”. Most likely to gain the attention of teachers and cadettes. We must acknowledge that things which has been interpreted as ”incidents” has happened. Thanks to such women. We urge you all to dress properly and modestly, and of course to behave accordingly. Of course, you won't need to bear chahab!” Dimonteis jokingly finished his reprimand.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Chahab[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]”, Daiger whispered to Avela, ”is what the women in the Khuzrab Desert, Badgihl and Shyoda are dressing in... its a form of veil. The sergeant tries to be funny. Again.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Avela nodded and gave him a quick look. The situation still felt awkward, as if this was not really happening to her, but rather a dream.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]She was 21 years old. In the autumn, she would be 22.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Yesterday morning, she had awakened as usual in her apartment in Blaghes in the Corelands. Now, she had travelled through air westward over the Great River, and had ended up in Dengayles, half a world away from her little hovel. Apparently, she had applied for a job as a teacher assistant in a school which was educating professional murderers! It was completely surreal, and yet more real than anything she had experienced during the dull routine of the last few years.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]They continued to follow the sergeant. Daiger held his arms behind his back and looked as absent as Avela, even though he then and then ogled her to see if she were looking at him or seeming confused. They ended up on the fifth floor, and started to walk into one of many corridors. Highly decorated officers, colonel lieutenants and colonels, walked by the group of giggling females, with straight backs and stiff lips. But their eyes hastily leered the thighs of the ladies.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Many doors flanked them on both sides of the corridor. Avela began to feel even more unsecure of the setting when they came to an even more narrow side corridor, which led to a broadening where a couple of arm-chairs and a sofa stood around an elegant table with a mosaic motif. On the other side, an office door stared at them, dark and uninviting. Dimonteis made a sign to the ladies to sit down on the sofa and the arm-chairs. He knocked on the door, rested his ear against it, awaited an answer. Then, he opened it, went in, and closed it behind him. Daiger studied his watch.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Miss Dachiriss”, he whispered. ”It has been a very pleasant experience to speak with you, but now I must leave. My men are awaiting their parade exercise, so excuse me.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]He greeted her farewell and disappeared.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]The Teledoranian lady with the knot in the hair, Karissa, gave Avela a suspicious glance whispered something to the anemic Alcionian woman, Yamahga, who thoughtfully nodded her head. Then she gave Avela a black look.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]It was like being back in the Primary School! Avela remembered what they had called her behind her back when she was little. Peckerwood, beggar, Zetshanyan whore, slime, stench, glass eyed snake and vermin. She felt for crying.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]After five never-ending minutes had passed, the sergeant slightly opened the door and tended his fat head. He looked like a seal cub who amazed looked up from the surface of the calm water.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Miss Amauri from Abauria, its time for your visit.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]The sturdy Abaurian woman rose from the sofa and forced her way through the crowd. Dimonteis herded her into the room. After fifteen minutes, she came out from the office. The other ladies sat in excitement. Most of them except Avela hoped that she had failed the test. Avela hoped that anyone except her would be chosen.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Jaina sat down again. Karissa, who's calves tremored out of expectancies, asked Jaina whether or not the interview had went well. Jaina, who seemed to have lost a good part of her self-confidence, did not give Karissa one look. Instead, she stared at the well.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]I... I will know after this whole affair is over!” she stated.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]It was Yamahga's turn. She struted in on feathering steps, ready to show off her competence. She was a business woman and it was visible. She gave a smile to the rest of the group which made could freeze a desert. [/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Ha! She was there to show them all.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Ten minutes later, she stumbled out of the office. Her eyes were hollow, and she seemed upset.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Martina was called in. She was a young Gherlnishwoman with pigtails, a big chest and a very happy smile which reached the clear blue eyes. She was swallowed by the door, and now Avela starting to get seriously nervous. She was the next person in line, and she did not know what to expect. Something unpleasant maybe?[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]She had, before she had been met up by those two legionnaries on the airport, believed that the Army looked like it did on the recruitment posters, or as they were drawn in comic magazines.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]She had imagined them as muscular, tall men with thick eyebrows, slender waists, broad shoulders and a certain glowing visage over their eyes. Instead, she had found that most of them were dark-skinned short men with bull-necks, thick shoulders, expressionless eyes and bored faces. They looked like small sausages with black bristle hair dressed in white uniforms. Most of them were provincials.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]They looked quite ugly, but not anymore remarkable or terrible than the world of the comic books had made them into.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]But, who was colonel Goadbeiles?[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]She rigorously studied the silent door to his office. It was made of black-varnished beech-wood. Above the golden door-handle, a small golden name-sign was nailed. On it, the text which was carved in read: C. Goadbeiles, Colonel.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]C” for what?[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Craith Goadbeiles? The surname sounded North-teledoranian, so Craith was possible. It could also be Charles Goadbeiles, even though Charles was not so usual in northern Teledor. Carman Goadbeiles? Carman was usual in northern Teledor.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]And how would he look like?[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Archetypical Teledoranian men were dark-haired, slender, tall and had a certain manner of walking, as if they were roosters spattering around in a hen-house. Often, they were attractive, with cute noses, blue to light brown eyes and a skin with a pigment which made itself look good after a couple of hours in the gaze of the sun.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]But colonel C Goadbeiles did probably not look that way. Most likely, he was a short, fat mini-copy of Reynold. Or a baggy former captain with sideburns and a brain damage under the war. A damage which would make him throw swear-words or indecencies around him all the day. Or, maybe he was a small, ratty man with bristly moustache whose small, piggy eyes fixated on breasts and behinds instead of eyes.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Yuck! [/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]The Gherlnishwoman, not more than eighteen years old, walked out again. Her face was red, and she was shivering. She looked as if he were facing an imminent breakdown. Now all the women who had'nt yet entered the door to become nervous. And now, it really was Avela's time.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]When the sergeant yet again showed his head and said that it now was Avela's turn, her heart, her head and her legs said to her to run away as quick as possible and to never come back. But a sort of power beyond her reach and control – an outside power – maybe the same which had driven her through the college, made the decision for her, and made her walk towards the black door... [/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]III[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]The Room which she had entered was a small waiting room in front of the real office. It had a desk, a wardrobe and a chair. On the desk, a thick book with black cover lied and wasted space. The book was named ”Gherlnish Dichtonomy 6700-7300. Avela almost giggled out of nervousness. She had been a stern believer that if such a man as colonel Goadbeiles would have had books, it would have been semi-pornographic zines with articles about machines, models and sports. Dimonteis told her to hang her coat in the wardrobe as well as removing her high-heeled shoes. She wondered for herself whether or not she would be forced to enter the room bare-foot – it would have been the height of humiliation! Maybe C Goadbeiles was a creepy old man who fantasised about women's feet.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Then she saw that there were several of pairs of cortex shuffles available for her to borrow. Avela picked a pair, and went to the red door marking the real entry into the colonel's office. Then she suddenly stopped and her body refused to move anymore. She felt like a lamb being led to the slaughterhouse.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Every instinct in every cell of her body said to her to escape. But it was like something beyond the door radiated energy. Like a powerful traction which made the floor, the walls, even the air in itself, electrically charged. In her A-course in astronomy, she had read about a phenomenon which the physicians called ”black holes”, which had been seen through telescopes. If a black hole felt in any particular fashion, it would be felt like this, she reasoned for herself. [/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]She closed her eyes to be able to breathe. But when she did so, the reality turned white, flimmered and fainted in a rythmic speed faster than anything she had ever been able to imagine. It was lighter than when she had held them open. It was a naked, white light, cold and indiffirent.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]She was most believably on a path to fainting – even though she still felt her own heart burst in the chest. It was like if the energy in itself beat in accordance with a cosmic rythm, as if it was from a heart. She rested against the door, and Dimonteis did not intervene. She was grateful to him for it. She could not bear being touched too much, especially not in a situation like this.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Thump, thump[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]. She could hear it. The energy which emit in waves. [/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]Thump, thump. Thump, thump, thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. [/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]All the pores in her body pulsed, and she found herself freezing, as if the energy had sucked all the heat from her. She cursed herself. Why was she born so weak? Why was she unable to control her fears? [/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]Its only a damn test, for Targon's sake[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace], she thought and steeled herself. She opened the soaring eyes, and slowly opened the door and walked into it. When she stepped over the threshold, she felt the calm falling upon her, and she was clear as water under a dawning sky. Dimonteis closed the door behind her, and she was all alone.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]More alone than she ever had been before.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]IV[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]The office was big and light, shaped as a half-circle with enormous windows at the long wall which fronted her. Beyond the windows, the casern garden opened itself up, beyond the garden the roofs of Dengayles, beyond the roofs hills and beyond the hills mighty mountains. The lemon-coloured curtains had been pulled up to allow for a maximum of sunlight to enter this abode. [/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Three desks stood in the room, all black-varnished with metal decorations. The floor was black and so clean that Avela almost could see her own mirror image in it. The short walls were filled with book shelves. On one place, a door led to a bathroom in access with the office. On the bookcases, a myriad of books appeared.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Avela just loved books![/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Above the shelves, stuffed hawks, owls and eagles grinned against her with their judging, yellow glass-eyes. They shared their spot with a mini-telescope, as well as a Land Globe depicting the world, with an enormous blue clique surrounded by green areas in an otherwise reddish and inhospitable world. Above the door from which she had arrived, a strange, exotic sword hanged in a black sheath. The office was extremely pure and smelled new. It smelled lily-on-the-valley, but Avela did not see any flowers. [/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Behind the central desk, which was larger than the other two, a very tall man stood with his back turned against her. He had the broadest shoulders she had ever seen, but he did not seem broad at all just because of his tallness and his wasp waist. He looked like a ”V” vertically outdrawn. He was dressed in a newly pressed white unform. His hands, attired in white gloves, rested snapped at the back. He faced the sun, and his back was set in shadows.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Yet again, Avela felt the instinctive, primal fear hit her heart and soul. She felt as primitive humans would have felt in the presence of the ancient beasts. [/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Avela Dachiriss”, the man said. His voice was dull, melodical and a bit nasal. He spoke with a North-teledoranian dialect which was unknown to Avela. It sounded a bit like the Teledoranian spoken by Marcionian nobles, but lighter and without accent. The voice was soft and cool, but had some air of harshness, distance and metallic indifference over itself. His ”r”;s were rolling. The man's voice did not speak to her, it tested the pronunciation of the name.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]It had expressed it without fault, on a perfect Zetshanyan way of expressing it. Most people mis-pronounced her name.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Avela Dachiriss?” he repeated, this time with an inquiring tone.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Ehm... yes sire?” Avela replied, embarassed of her silence. [/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]You are afraid, aren't you?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Avela stood as hit by a bolt. She did not know what to reply. The man continued the de-facto monologue with his calm voice.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]I will begin this conversation by uttering some quoted sentences, and I want you to fill in the end of them, with the right voice-tone which belongs to said sentences. You understand, right?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]The man had not moved one centimeter. His voice began a declamation, on Gherlnish.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Dew so clear[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Whistle in reed so dear[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Wet grass bowing down[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]To the hymn[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Of the western wind whispering[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]The sword below is rusting in its sleep...”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]He snapped his fingers. It was[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]Avela's turn. She did not believe her ears! It was [/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]Hellahg Gwasteilach[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace], a love poem from the 72[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]nd[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace] century. She continued where he had ended, on a shivering voice.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Under the Lord's sky[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]The marrons blossom[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]The bones mold[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]I stand here[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]With flowers in my hair[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Waiting for my beloved one to return”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Very good”, colonel Goadbeiles whistled without turning around or even moving. ”Then we will continue”, he concluded. [/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Moon and sun[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Born in womb of sky[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Silver and Gold[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Night and day”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Avela knew this text as well. It was the beginning of the mass in the ”Book of Red Dust”, an obscure alchemic scroll from the early 76[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]th[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace] century. Yet again, he snapped the fingers without moving. Avela harked and began.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Woman and man[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]In the skies forever parted[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Become as one[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Only through wisdom's blue flame[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Only through the stewing inferno of the pestle[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Only through this text.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]From low, high[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]From woman, man[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]From iron, gold.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]The man stood quiet, as if he was thinking. After thirty seconds, he replied.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Good. That last bit was unnecessary. Remember what I said – [/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]one sentence[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]. Now, we continue.” He stood quiet for a moment, but then started to sing in Abaurian.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Golden armor[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Red coat[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Crown of all lands[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Greatness[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Eternity[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Immortality...”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Snapped the fingers. It was ”The Marthaer Anthem”. The elder, original version.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Frailness[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Decay[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Destruction[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]None o none[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Could ever[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Could conquer the land of death[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]None o none[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Could sail beyond all seas[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Trample beyond all stars[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]So not you[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]O mighty King”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Good”, the colonel commented. ”There are not many who have read that in your generation, miss Dachiriss. You should consider yourself gifted. It was the original version, not the Teledoranian plagiate.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Avela had begun to feel that she mastered this, but she was still nervous. She did not know when she should begin her test, and she did not know what use this was for. That colonel Goadbeiles was apparently an eccentric of a peculiar taste, preferring old books and poems. But at least, he did not seem to suffer from any fetisch for feet. [/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Now we continue, misstress Dachiriss.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]With a dry, bureaucratic voice, he started hissing another quotation.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Beer standards of the width of three inches, should in this county be judged as...”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Avela began: [/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]”...if they were bookkeeped as herring standards, with benchmark from the case of monsieur vintner Damon-Merciar vs his Excellency, Baron Ilmân Creiger, Union President of the Noviyarian Union of Mankind. Paragraph 411.34.7722 Royal Teledoranian Legal Enquirer.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Avela had a hard time to not giggle.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]A very entertaining law indeed”, colonel Goadbeiles replied with a indication of being amused. ”You did this well, miss Dachiriss. Very well indeed. You remembered the paragraph, the serial number. I must confess that it had slipped my memory.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]But despite his new, encouraging attitude, he had still not turned around. She had no idea how his face looked like.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]I think we take another one, just so we are sure, miss Dachiriss. Just so we are sure.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]He began to recite a verse.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]It was not any verse. It was a verse on [/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]her native Zetshanyan[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]. He spoke it flawlessly. Her childhood language![/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Bell, bell ring in[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Bell, bell, ring out[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Water, water sacred water...”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]A last time, he snapped his fingers.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]This was a very old rigmarole. Avela's grandmother Trudne had used to spell it over the children's heads when they were small. It was an incantation to keep away evil intent. She knew it in her heart, as he had been nighted for it day and night during her entire childhood.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]...salt, salt, sacred salt[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]a star of leaves so fair[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]an amulette of fortune[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]in the dark of the night[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]which will keep the Count away”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Still, he stood unmoved.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]That was a very good interpretation, miss Dachiriss. But... it does'nt really sound like real classical High Zetshanyan. Almost, but not wholly. I must say that I nevertheless remain firmly impressed by your quotations, miss.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]He turned around[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace].[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]The collar of his military uniform was opened. The three uppermost buttons on his jacket were also undone. The zip-fastener on his jacket was done though, and a small golden Hyzalian Cross dangled from it. No medals were patched on his uniform. The uniform was blinding white, and reflected the rays of the sun.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Avela got an invisible, silent attack of fainting panic when she saw his face, mostly because she had'nt imagined him in that way. She had for one moment thought that he would be beautiful. He was'nt.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]His facial features were not attractive, but not unattractive either. Avela guessed he was around the middle of his forties. He had cut his blonde hair short which gained something golden over itself in the sunshine. His face was strongly elongated with marked cheekbones and a slightly pointy jawbone. His skull had angular tendencies, his lips were thin, colourless and aristocratic. The nose was a chapter for itself, hawkish, dominating, sharp, slightly unproportional to the rest of the face with its pointy tip. His eyes were cruel deep pitched slits, resting under two fine grey brees. He had wrinkles at the sides of them, gossiping that he maybe was older than he looked to be.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Eyes[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace].[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]They were of the most clear silver-grey colour she had ever seen. It was almost as if pure mercury flowed inside them. There were no signs of any other colour in them, except a very weak shadow of deep green. They were hard, the eyes. Hard and cruel as steel. The mouth was also hard, hard and cruel.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]But there was also an ironic twist there in the eyes, as if the wrinkles at the sides of them and below his nose told about a mixture of alert intelligence, sophistication, and sarcastic humour. The impression of the face was that it was slender and fine, and yet in some way disproportionately disturbed, as if it gave a degenerate impression. He looked more like a Marcionian or a Zetshanyan than a Teledoranian, but he was not as ugly as she had thought when she first entered the room. He had a distinct noble handsomeness over himself.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]He stood rested against his desk with his fists playfully wobbling his body. He was so tall – almost two metres Avela guessed – that his head almost would hit the lamp dangling from the roof. [/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]His eyes became thin lines in his face, and he gave her a tender smile. ”You shall not be afraid, miss Dachiriss. You shall not be afraid of me.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]He moved around the table, slowly and catlike with smooth steps. His feet were dressed in two enormous, shining black boots, which stretched up to his knees. His left middle finger gently touched the top of the desk several times. His lips were forming a word – it looked like ”remarkable”.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]He took Avela's hands. She did not resist.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]I must say that I am impressed by your performance, miss Dachiriss. His hands felt so big, and yet so unmanly, fine-limbed and sensitive as they were. His eyes seemed to change before her, and in the same time, she felt how the panic decreased accordingly. He looked into her soul, and she allowed him to do it. She felt elevated, as if she had undergone a transformation and no longer was of this world but something beyond it. And she was not afraid anymore. She did not understand why, but she was'nt. He let her hands go, and she bobed before him childishly.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]She became sincerely joyful when she received compliments, mostly because she otherwise seldom received them. Frankly speaking, she had mostly felt like if she was worthless.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]You could leave now, fair miss.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Yet again, it stroke her about the archaic phrases and words which sometimes appeared in his sentences, as volcanic rock islands in a still ocean. It was if they were figments of passion in a structure which was meant to be entirely void of any affectionate feelings.[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]But wait... the test then[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]? Avela had imagined a sort of a paper test, not a vocal test.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Excuse me sire”, she asked, ”but... I wonder what the ”C” in your first name stands for.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Why did I ask THAT, of all conceivable questions[/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]?[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]The colonel smiled charitable, as if he was doing her a favor.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Miss Dachiriss. Your question should not stand unanswered.” He bowed his long, thin neck a bit.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Colonel [/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]Cunver Goadbeiles [/FONT][FONT=Courier New, monospace]at your service, miss Dachiriss.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]He bowed politely but a bit formally to her, and then made a sign that she was allowed to leave the office. [/FONT]
