Lion Head Mesa mariposa

there was no prince and there would have been no princess either. belen's musings upon the departure of crowfeather had become a bitter seed she tucked beneath the edge of her breastplate. today the girl had bathed in the river and returned to the palace, slightly damp. from a storeroom she took two glossy pelts for bed-cushions, and set off to the quarters that sayf had appointed for their new hemet. he was the chosen servant here. belen did not enter. she bowed low at the door. "lady @Qiao?" came her soft call.

a quiet voice outside her chambers. qiao pulled from her assortment of greenery, eyes trained upon the door.

you may enter. she called to the shadow beyond the doorframe, doing away with the wreath of stinging nettle she had hung to dry. to her side was an owl pellet steeping in a tortoise-shell with unknown herbs.

the scent of water met her as belen came in, fur glossy from a recent soak. she held two fine pelts - these qiao inquired after with a slight rise of her brow.

so. it was as they had said. the hemet was not a wolf nor a fox. she was like sayf, like jawahir, like kasmut, like sayyadina. even like sihaya himself. and yet she occupied a rank so high as to make lowly belen dizzy. "i have brought you welcome, priestess," the little servant said smoothly, crossing the room to lie the pelts where she felt qiao might make her bed. her glassblue eyes were curious. "i am belen. you may also call on me for whatever you need, holy one."

belen crossed the threshold, the pelts she carried deposited close to where qiao often slept. the hemet gave a slight tilt of her long muzzle in wordless thanks.

this creature was more lovely than the others; her face framed in rich cream which gave warmth to the otherwise cool grey complexion. not for the first time did qiao notice a similarity here among those in ramesses' court. my thanks, belen. qiao's gaze flickered past. perhaps you can be of assistance -- how well do you know the woods outside akashingo's keep?

the lady qiao watched belen with an eye that told the girl she missed nothing. the fellahin then must be careful. "i do not often leave the mesa, divine one," she answered honestly with gaze modestly tending the floor of the apartments. there were many scents here that she did not know. belen lifted her head and looked toward what the priestess had been doing, though she was well-trained enough not to question. "shall i escort you there, hemet?"

this one kept to the keep. no matter -- there were those whose home was in the hearth, and those who were better served in the woods and streams. no use trying to extract blood from a stone.

no. it is my wish to find someone who has an affinity for it. qiao moved towards the flattened stone which served as a table of sorts. on it were various herbs in various stages of desiccation. spring moves on quick heels. soon bulbs will ready for gathering, and there is but one of me. i can collect those close to the halls, but for further expeditions, we need more bodies. perhaps you know someone?

belen felt a little rejected, but kept herself from wilting. "tavina often goes beyond the palace," she offered. the doctor was not a servant but she often filled the roles when there was one wanting. "and i can go with you to carry things, holy one." belen proffered a little smile. "i suppose i am made for softer work," the fellahin breathed with a self-deprecating arch of her brow.

to qiao's recollection this was the second wolf she'd spurned, and even she felt the crackling, embered edge of belen's confidence, qiao did not apologize.

she did, however, soften.

that small smile, the depreciating joke -- the hard lines of qiao's discerning gaze disappeared. i will seek the doctor, then. qiao busied herself with smoothing the frayed edges of a worn piece of hide. is that the only use you think of yourself? or is that how others see you? you do not strike me as a whore.

a whore. the words broke like glass around belen's ears, and she lost her carefully practiced composure for a few shaking moments. eyes wide with hurt, the girl blinked rapidly several times in warring confusion and anger, then took an audible breath and glanced away from the priestess. "the gods have purposes for us all. if mine is to serve pharaoh's body, then that is what i will do." her mouth quirked. "it is by Their hand that you are coyote but not fellahin, while i am wolf and servant."

qiao's words had been sent with an archer's masterful aim; that they shattered their target brought a subtle smile to qiao's often emotionless countenance.

belen spoke true, and ramesses had made it known to qiao the moment she stepped within his keep. often, she imagined she saw sly glances from the fellahin. perhaps these stolen looks were conceived from a wellspring of bitterness.

but is that what you want? qiao asked, half-lidded gaze constricting around the fair-faced belen like a languidly uncoiling snake. each of us has a use, and each of us has a talent. these concepts are not mutually inclusive. perhaps you would like something different out of life?

belen had not thought about it. she had been so long caught up in the glory of the palace, its excess, its teachings, its pleasures, that she had given no thought toward her own tomorrow. "i suppose i want to travel, lady qiao," she said smoothly, the surface of her face at last closing like that of jawahir. "i will not live in akashingo forever. but while i am here, i will be the most dutiful servant." the little smile had barbed her, had made her feel girlish and unwanted. "have you yet sampled the services of the fellahin, holy one? i recommend sayf. he delights all palates."