It's a little while--not until after the smith who is making Rai-Kunabei's new disks has agreed to try Karli as an apprentice--that Rai-Kubabei takes you aside. "Did you come for a reading?"
You nod, and smile.
"For your--" She waves toward your belly.
You shake your head. "No, not this time. This time I'd like some insight regtarding for an art project I've started."
She leads you to her tree and lifts the leather bag down out of the hollow where a branch meets the trunk. "I know I carry these almost everywhere, but not into the mountains when someone saw signs of a wraith. These are heavy, and I wouldn't want them to get all warped and scorched."
"Do they ward off wraiths too?"
"I doubt it--these are silent, to the ear, at least, no matter how loudly they sometimes speak to my mind. But," she reached into a pocket and pulled out a rock--no a piece of ore. "Look--you can see where the metal in the rock is, and it's all crackled and iridescent like my ball-whistle."
You looked, and nodded, then she placed it back in her pocket. "Let's see what the disks have to say about your artwork." She reached into the leather bag and pulled out a disk. You can see that it glows a rich gold in the late afternoon sun. She turns it over and hands it to you to look at. Depicted in the enamels, in amazing detail, are a man and woman, all dressed up and with a string of bells suitable for a rooftop wrapped around their shoulders.
"Marriage," Rai-Kunabei smiled. "The embodiment of human-made connection. This disk invites you to think about how things are connected harmoniously and fruitfully within the art--and also about how you will use this art to connect with your audience.
You thank her, and the two of you head back to the party. As you head down the mountain later, you think not only about the ambitious art project, but about Kuleilyi culture, and how much fear of the wraiths has impacted their culture. Binding a couple together with a string of bells designed to protect a house from wraiths seems so in-character for them. And then, this new thing--waiths bringing not just fear and death, but the prosperity of a new mine. The Empire scientists laugh at the idea of wraiths, calling it superstition. But how could mere superstition warp and scorch metal, mush less open a rift in a mountainside deep enough to expose a new vein of ore?
Marriage
You nod, and smile.
"For your--" She waves toward your belly.
You shake your head. "No, not this time. This time I'd like some insight regtarding for an art project I've started."
She leads you to her tree and lifts the leather bag down out of the hollow where a branch meets the trunk. "I know I carry these almost everywhere, but not into the mountains when someone saw signs of a wraith. These are heavy, and I wouldn't want them to get all warped and scorched."
"Do they ward off wraiths too?"
"I doubt it--these are silent, to the ear, at least, no matter how loudly they sometimes speak to my mind. But," she reached into a pocket and pulled out a rock--no a piece of ore. "Look--you can see where the metal in the rock is, and it's all crackled and iridescent like my ball-whistle."
You looked, and nodded, then she placed it back in her pocket. "Let's see what the disks have to say about your artwork." She reached into the leather bag and pulled out a disk. You can see that it glows a rich gold in the late afternoon sun. She turns it over and hands it to you to look at. Depicted in the enamels, in amazing detail, are a man and woman, all dressed up and with a string of bells suitable for a rooftop wrapped around their shoulders.
"Marriage," Rai-Kunabei smiled. "The embodiment of human-made connection. This disk invites you to think about how things are connected harmoniously and fruitfully within the art--and also about how you will use this art to connect with your audience.
You thank her, and the two of you head back to the party. As you head down the mountain later, you think not only about the ambitious art project, but about Kuleilyi culture, and how much fear of the wraiths has impacted their culture. Binding a couple together with a string of bells designed to protect a house from wraiths seems so in-character for them. And then, this new thing--waiths bringing not just fear and death, but the prosperity of a new mine. The Empire scientists laugh at the idea of wraiths, calling it superstition. But how could mere superstition warp and scorch metal, mush less open a rift in a mountainside deep enough to expose a new vein of ore?