Bough -- Logs

With time, the gryphon hunting party tires of playing with their trophies, and arranges them neatly upon the steep slopes of Uluru, facing about sixty degrees right of mirrorward -- in the direction of Mount Zion, actually, a clear challenge and act of defiance. A number of loas -- Papa Ghede, Erzullie, another whom the mortals have not met yet in a sleek and neat suit -- as well as quite a few mortals and aethyrs native to these parts observe the informal ceremony from the ground, as the gryphons arrange the trophies visibly.

"Be fair to say," Papa Ghede says, fanning himself with his hat, "not gonna be hard for the white-winged crows to not see this at some point.""

The sharp-dressed man laughs, drawing on a cigarette. "Aye, that's the truth. First Monte Meru, now Rock du Ayer's, oui? Now jus' need for Bondye to be hearin' someone else playin' wit' thunder on Monte Olympus."

Mikal says softly, "Er... what is Bondye, please?"

The three loas turn to the morals. "'That's th' name we used to know th' Architect by, 'way back when," Papa Ghede says cheerfully. "Back when the Europeans took our peoples to Haiti and the Carrib, an' they adapted and adopted and found new ways to worship us an' venerate us an' let us taste life wit' them."

"I like to think," Erzulli says kindly, "that bein' able to experience life with them, helped them in some ways. 'Cause it surely helped us, in ridin' mortals." The well-dressed man says nothing at this point.

Norris is quiet for a moment, just studying these worthies with a curious eye. He also puts Athena's helm and Artemis's spread back on his mount, so he doesn't misplace them. He doesn't know what to do with them just yet: perhaps Mikal might eventually use the spear, in the event she needs a hand-to-hand weapon? Or maybe he will find someone else worthy of wielding the Huntress's spear.

Mikal nods slowly, thinking for a while... then asks, "Um... if you don't mind my asking, what does Bond Eye mean? And am I saying it right?"

Papa Ghede gives a bit of a snort. "Aye, childe, you're sayin' it right. Means 'good God,' but 'course it's been a long time since we've been sayin' that with anythin' other than irony."

Mikal looks puzzled -- then brightens, "Oh! French, I see, like Cat: Bon Dieu!"

Jareth has slipped up behind Mikal, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin atop her head. He has the strong feeling this lot have a lot to say.

Jareth murmurs, "The Haitians had a lot of French on the islands."

Mikal beams up at Jareth, hugging his arms to her as she adds, "Did I say it right, mon beau chat?"

Norris's eyes sparkle. Jareth and Mikal are adorable together. He just wants to wrap a blanket around them.

Jareth smiles and nuzzles his cheek against the top of Mikal's head, "You said it right if you were Parisian, but the Haitians have a different accent."

Mikal blushes, glancing back at the loas, "Oh! I -- I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it? It, um, French isn't any of my native tongues, unfortunately."

The loa beam, and the third loa says in a particularly charming way, "Mais oui, mortale mignon, it is French. Your amie assez has it right, the differences are subtle in the accent, between Paris, Haiti, an' my favorite, la Nouvelle-Orleans."

Mikal blinks, carefully sounding out the French words in her head as she tries to translate. "Umm... what's an assez, please?"

Jareth smiles and murmurs, "He's calling me your lover, mon lapin."

The loa beams, half-bowing to Mikal and offering a smile to Jareth. "It means 'pretty,' childe. Something which applies to you both, I'm thinkin'...."

Papa Ghede whacks the loa over the head with his hat, eliciting a yelp from the slender, well-dressed loa. "Thought we talked about this, Carrefour," he says sternly. "Please forgive Mait' Kalfou, childe. If'n he wanted to be startin' trouble, I'd have told 'im to go off to Asmodeus's circus what he calls his Mazikim."

Mikal grins shyly up at Jareth -- then looks a bit puzzled at the antics of the loa. She smiles uncertainly, watching them, and simply nods.

Papa Ghede returns his hat to his head while Carrefour glares mildly at the elder loa, while Erzullie asks kindly, "Will you be stayin' with us for a time, dears, or are you headin' off on the next part of you quest?"

Mikal blinks confusedly, "Er, what? Are you saying Mr. Maytkalfour is a Mazikim?" She tilts her head, studying the nattily dressed, dark-skinned man, and adds uncertainly, "He... doesn't look like the Mazikim I've seen...?"

Jareth chuckles and grins at Carrefour, "I'm flattered. I'm in agreement that ma petite lapin is quite beautiful." He also studies the dark-skinned being, "You remind me more of our rakshasa friends than the Mazikim."

Mikal blushes hotly at Jareth's compliment!

Carrefour laughs throatily, and gives a grand bow to Mikal. "An' that's why I'm not with them, beau mam'selle. Papa Ghede would be sayin' I'm of the same feather as Asmodai--"

Ghede snaps, "An' you are!"

Carrefour continues, "--but what does he know? He's not me. An' of course, I'd be more than willin' to show you both that I'm not as monstreaux as Asmodeus's bretheren...." The leer and sexual undertone would be audible to a deaf person.

Jareth chuckles at Carrefour and lets his eyes slide over the loa appraisingly, "You flatter me, again. Though you may be in for more than you think on that bargain."

Mikal blushes again at Carrefour's innuendo, smiling faintly as she turns her head to rest it against Jareth's chest.

Jareth looks down at Mikal, "Shall we stay, mon lapin?"

Carrefour purrs, "I'd of course like th' chance to find out, mon amie."

Mikal looks up startledly at Jareth, "Uh, what? S-sta- oh!" She brightens, looking at the loa, "That's right -- we wanted to ask you all what you knew about, um, what was it called..." She thinks a moment, then says the word carefully, "N-neuschwabenland, I think?"

Jareth grins again at Carrefour.

The effect on the loas is immediate: Their expressions darken and take on clear surprise, and Erzulli looks a little greyer underneath her dark skin, putting a hand to her mouth.

"Neuschwabenland?" Carrefour breathes, then looks to Ghede.

"That's a dark place, childe," Papa Ghede says gently, still sounding a little sticken. "Why would you want to go there?"

Jareth says, "We've been a lot of dark places. And plan to go more."

Mikal looks a bit surprised, but answers readily enough, "Baron Kriminel found out part of the True Name of Azrael is there. We have to go -- we need to find his entire True Name."

Norris says, straight-faced, "Besides, we hear there's some good schools out there."

Mikal blinks startledly at Norris -- then covers a small giggle.

Norris nods sagely at Mikal. "Gotta think about the kids. Gotta plan ahead."

Mikal grins.

Jareth rolls his eyes and says, "Lucky I don't have anything to throw at you, cher ours." The grin he gives Norris is enough that Carrefour will be able to see that there is perhaps more than friendship between the men.

Mikal blinks again, then giggles.

Norris, himself, does not get the exact translation, though he gets the gist. "What? I thought it was a good joke." he protests, innocently.

Mikal gives a small, amused snort, then looks back at the loa hopefully, "So... that's a yes, you can tell us more about the place? Please?"

That seems to break the tension; Carrefour chuckles, Ghede laughs quietly, and even Erzullie looks a little less distressed. "Heh," Ghede says, "Well, 'fraid no schools there. But there's learning plenty to be had, if but it were reachable. But if that's where Kriminel said you'd find part of Azrael's True Name, well, I would believe him.

"To be honest, I've not the knowledge of where it is. Our people were never brought to the places in the Waking that spawned that forsaken place, fortunately. But... I've heard of a man in Babylon who knows many things. He's mortal -- like you and yet, I know, not entirely like you. He's led but a handful of lives. But he has done some travelling, and knows of many places in the Deep Wyld."

Erzulli nods, then says without any accent, "Salah ad-Din. He knows of a lot of the hidden places. Once was faithful to the Architect; not long after settlin' in to the Dreamtime, he cursed th' Architect's name an' turned from him. He has no love for Bondye."

Ghede continues, a touch grimly, "But we can tell you some of what you'd find there, childe. It's eternal winter there, you have to go far past Yggdrasil to get there -- that's the way the people who formed the idea of Neuschwabenland wanted it, you see? They'd perverted the faiths of the Norske and the Teutons, an' so it's cold there. Saladin can tell you where exactly to find it... an' I can only urge yourselves to be strong, once you get there."

Mikal takes a deep breath, then nods firmly, "We will do our best, Papa -- that I can promise you."

Papa Ghede nods quietly, and Erzulli steps forward to embrace Mikal. "I know you're a tough girl," she whispers. "An' more than jus' a girl, too. So I'm not gonna say to be strong. But when you get outta that place, an' you need some place to wind down... know that you can come here an' I'll have tea and warmth here for you an' yours, childe."

Jareth's face softens at Erzulli's offer and he reaches to touch the side of her face as she embraces Mikal.

Norris uhs at one of the loa just stepping up and embracing Mikal...but when Jareth doesn't seem to worry, he untenses.

Mikal beams shyly at the hug, returning it tightly. "Thank you, Mama!" Her voice is a little choked up; for a moment she misses intensely never having had a mother.

There is remarkably little preparation to be made for the journey to Babylon. The ship will carry some trade goods so that no suspicion is aroused -- besides, there are some things that can only be gotten at Babylon that the communities at Uluru could use. The airship is packed and loaded -- Iron Antlers and the gryphkittens are comfortably ensconced aboard, as are the trade goods, and the mortals' gear.

The airship's departure is quite understated: They board, the horses are settled in (Iron Antlers appears quite comfortable and needs no special handling to stay aboard the airship comfortably, and the gryphkits have no desire to be blown off deck, so they remain either inside, or nestled snugly against their mortals, digging in only a little bit), the crew unties the ship from the tower, and shortly through whatever means the airship uses, it is drifting gracefully forward and upward. The regal of gryphons flirt around the ship briefly for a few leagues, diving and dancing and flying in the airship's wake. Below, on the top surface of Uluru, the mortals can see a dance troupe of some fifteen kachinas, who had been shy and unseen throughout their time at Uluru.

Mikal is standing at the railing, and she laughs and waves both to the kachinas and the gryphons, as the big ship slowly pulls away.

Norris is a thoughtful fella, and brings Ferro out to see his elders 'playing' with the airship. "You'll get to do that, some day." he assures, scritching his chin.

Jareth cuddles the gryphkit that's adopted him against his chest and hisses slightly at the bite of talons and claws, cooing, "Gentle, gentle, mon petite Reinette. I will not let you fall." If he catches sight of Verdicroix, he grins and waves at the healer.

The kachinas do not seem to respond, but just before Uluru is lost in the distance behind thickening clouds, the mortals think they can see others atop Uluru -- many, many others, of all shapes and sizes: the gods and others who call Uluru their home for the time being while the Architect still commands Polaris.

The gryphkits aren't terribly comfortable, knowing that the airship is going faster than they could catch up if they went flying. Still, they respond to the bugles of their larger cousins with shrill chirps, even as the regal peels away, winging their way back to Uluru.

Mikal murmurs in quiet puzzlement to Jareth, where she's leaning up against him, "Jair? Why would almost all the residents of Uluru hide from us, and come out only once we'd left?"

Jareth nuzzles Mikal's hair and murmurs, "They're shy, my love. Just as you are."

Mikal says, "Oh." She's silent for a moment, thinking, then glances sideways up at Jareth, "Um, Jair? C-can we come back, later, once this is all done? S-so we can meet them all... a-and would you stand with me when we meet the, um, the kinda stranger looking ones, p-please?""

Jareth smiles gently at his lover and mate, kissing her nose, "Of course, my love. I will always be there when I can."

Mikal blushes and grins, hugging Jareth tightly!

The trip by airship takes the better part of four days; the ground below them seems to pass by at a terrifying rate for the two days in the middle of their trip. But bit by bit, the ship slows in it's mad pace, and midday on the fourth day, the airship slips down from the clouds, the wind rushing along its flanks, deck damp from rain, into dry skies. Light streams through the clouds to illuminate the sprawling city of Babylon, set along the base of cloud-haloed Mount Zion.

From afar and from height, the sight of the main quarter is almost like coming home for Mikal and Jareth. Even from up here, they can see the wind-swept ziggurauts reaching upward, and could probably even name the temples dedicated to their god-selves. At the north end of the Temples Quarter, they can see the stepped edifice that is the Hanging Gardens.

But the Temples Quarter appears virtually empty, the temples bereft of decoration and banners and streamers of incense-smoke rising from them. Only a few people seem to live in what is the Dreamtime manifestation of one of the first of the greatest mortal cities, and they along the river Euphrates.

The airship docks are Mirrorward of a slightly larger sprawl that hugs Mount Zion and begins to climb up it. This is a newer part of the city, not part of traditional Babylon. Markets, schools, libraries litter the quarter, side by side with synagogues, mosques, churches. Dominating the northern part of the Quarter, built right into the mountain, is a massive structure that is as much fortress as it is cathedral, elegant and beautiful but grim and somber. As the airship descends, they can hear the call from the minarets of the mosques, calling what faithful there may be in Babylon to pray to Al'lah. This does not seem to stop or even slow the longshoremen's work in the airship docks, as their own airship descends lightly, settling in at a berth as it is tied up.

Mikal cuddles up against Jareth to keep warm as the ship descends. Studying the city below, she unwittingly looks stricken at the many deserted temples. Her face darkens as she studies the many temples of the religions of the Book, and her fist tightens on the railing until her knuckles are white.

Norris does take long moments to look over the edge of the ship, burning with curiosity about the city. But at one point, he takes his companions aside to discuss matters before they land. "Do you think we should make an effort to keep a low profile, here? After all, we're better known now than we were, and we're all but on the doorstep of you-know-who."

Jareth feels his breath catch as he recognizes the city in some deep part of himself. His heart aches at the abandoned temples as well. He presses his face against Mikal's hair.

Mikal nods silently at Norris's suggestion. Her normally gray eyes have gone the dark gray of incipient thunderstorms, and her expression is tight with carefully restrained emotion. She hugs Jareth tightly, although her cold gaze stays on the temples that anger her.

The airship comes to rest, and the crew make her fast to the dock. Longshoremen begin to offload the cargo; the horses and Iron Antlers remain aboard for the time being, awaiitng the mortals' disposition, since they're not being sold. The docks are a loud, chaotic mass that seems to have some sort of order to it. There is shouting in at least a dozen languages, including a few snippets of Sanskrit here and there. The docks are a busy hive of activity but it shouldn't be too hard to get directions or information.

Mikal murmurs quietly to her companions, "Where are we going? First an inn, then try to track down Salah al Din?"

Norris's eyes knit, trying to make it seem like he hadn

Jareth blinks slightly and says, "Actually..." He points to a complex of buildings near the docks, "Can we go there, first?"

Mikal nods as she asks, "What's there?"

Norris's brows knit mildly, trying to make it seem like he hadn't seen the figure watching them. "Might be he already found us. Or someone did." he murmurs to Mikal. He was about to surrupticiously indicate where he saw the figure, when Jareth bluntly points it out.

Mikal raises an eyebrow, casually glancing in the figure's direction and studying it, even as she seems to be looking at the buildings. Her voice is quiet, "Do either of you know him?"

Jareth shakes his head, "But he wasn't trying to hide that he was watching us."

Mikal looks exasperated when she realizes the person has moved on by the time she looked, "Well, crap. All right, when he slipped away did he make any gesture to follow? What did he look like?"

Norris does a quick check, to see what the locals tend to wear in terms of colors and garb. "No... he was just being rather obvious in his interest." He tries to remember his sense of the man, from his brief glimpse. "He was dressed pretty solemn, like a scholar, but his face didn't look that way. Hawk-eyed, like a veteran. Brown robe, black hair and beard...olive skin. Kind of like the other folk about, except he's not wearing a turban."

Mikal nods slowly, thinking. "All right. No effort to either hide or contact us... so whomever he's working for is pretty confident -- which says angels to me." She sighs, adding firmly, "Let's get going. We need to be out of here soonest, so we don't draw down angelic wrath on folks here." As she looks around she bleakly adds, "It looks pretty... staid here too. I... I guess I'd hoped there'd be more here than just the Religions of the Book, from what the folks on Meru said."

Norris considers. "I don't know. The mosques are just the obvious places...it could be there are other places of worship that are less obvious." He takes a moment, then and tries something new: dreamshaping some plain robes and turbans for himself and Jareth...and a robe with a hood for Mikal.

Finding an inn is not terribly hard, there are plenty near the docks. And as they go to it, they find other temples to other gods here. They are much less obvious than the Book temples, but they are there nonetheless, tucked into courtyards and buildings -- not hiding, but not as obvious as the traditional mosques and churches. And as far as they can tell, the Book temples aren't well-attended, and the ones that are appear to be fulfilling their traditional roles as places of learning and study, rather than outright worship. It would be hard to imagine a mosque and a cathedral butting up against each other except perhaps in Jeru'salaam, in the days before the Crusaders sacked that ancient city.

And through it all, the worship within the city of Babylon seems somehow centered on the walled-off Temples Quarter, in some unnameable way. The churches, synagogues, mosques in the Scholars Quarter... they seem to silently bow before their elders, the great ziggurauts which rise above the walls of Babylon.

Mikal waits while Jareth, with his facility for both being charming and haggling, gets them all a place to stay at the inn. Once that's done, she murmurs quietly to the innkeeper, "Is there a place where a scholar of the Q'oran might find fellow students, in this city?"

Mikal wonders at how poorly attended all the temples are... and yet, every place of worship outside the walls of the Temple Quarter seems somehow less than the great and ancient ziggurats looming there within.

The innkeeper purses his lips. "Mmm. An imam? You can find them in any mosque, really. There's no lacking of Q'oranic scholars in the Scholars quarter." He pauses in polishing a glass. "Unless... there is a particular scholar you are seeking. That would make it much easier."

As Mikal is asking questions of the innkeeper, Norris finds himself in a conundrum. While the artifacts from his fellow gods are not really of any obvious value to any but himself, he worries about leaving them alone in his room, being rather ostentatious to carry around with him. Should he trust them to the room? or perhaps...he'll have to ask Mikal.

Mikal tilts her head thoughtfully -- she's sure her face is shadowed by virtue of Norris' thoughtfulness in dreaming up the heavily hooded robe for her. "Well, I have heard of several. Let me think... is Shams available? Or perhaps... Omar al-Khayyam or Salah al Din or Ibn Sina? Or... Rumi?"

The innkeeper considers, then shakes his head. "If you're looking for mortal scholars... well, the ones you mentioned are known but they are not here in the Dreamtime... except for Salah al-Din. And he I would not, strictly speaking, call an imam. Though it is hard to blame him."

Mikal looks intrigued, "Indeed? Hmm... well, may we try him then, please?"

The innkeeper shrugs a little. "You can certainly knock on his door! Whether his mujahideen let you in is another matter entirely. But the worst that can happen is they tell you 'no.' He is at the tower closest to the docks." He gives a street address, and directions.

Mikal thanks the innkeeper, then grins at her companions, "An imam who does not call himself an imam! Let us go now to see if we may speak with him!" She heads out, following the innkeeper's directions, and it's not until they're outside that she murmurs amusedly to her Packmates, "Um... any idea what a mujaheedin is?"

As soon as Mikal is done taking down the directions, Norris encourages her to one side. "Could you ask Iron Antlers to look after these?" he queries, indicating the helm and spear.

Mikal nods to Norris, smiling, "Of course. He's still on the ship, though. Why don't you leave the relics there, for safety?"

Norris makes a 'where did my brain go' gesture, and agrees. "And naw, no idea what a mujaheedin is."

Mikal keeps an eye out as she goes, and warns her companions to do so also -- for the man watching them at the docks.

Finding the small keep is relatively easy -- though it is one of several walled-in town-houses, much like Roman villas, the directions were easy to follow... and the armed man in front of the door suggests that this is, perhaps, the place. The man is wearing a curious turban -- it has a somewhat conical shape above the wrappings, and circular pieces of metal are nestled at the base of the conical part -- and is armored in a jazeraint robe to his thighs, with shamshir depending from his belt. His eyes are alert over the scarf covering his lower face, and he spots the mortals approaching immediately. He straightens, inclining his head curiously and inquisitively to them as they appraoch.

Mikal comes up and nods politely to the man, since she has no idea what this culture's norms are like -- nor is she aware of what they'd consider a "good" woman. "Good day. We seek audience with Saladin, please. Is he available?"

It honestly doesn't occur to Norris to take the subterfuge that far: he was just trying to help his friends blend in, not have them be other than they are. He'll take the reins, of course if that's what it takes to make things run smoothly...but he's also likely to be unhappy if they start disrespecting Mikal.

The man nods his head -- it does not seem to be a gesture of affirmation to her question, and steps to the side, rapping on the door in a particular sequence. A panel slides open high on the door, a pair of eyes peer out and almost in the same motion the panel closes. The door opens cautiously, and a tall, slender, beardless man in a scholar's robe is opening the door for them. "Please come in," he says quietly, glancing around. "There is an informal truce in Babylon, but best to not raise the curiosity of those who still follow the Architect."

Norris gives Mikal a sidelong look. Either they've been recognized, or they stick out more than clothing could conceal.

Mikal looks a bit startled -- but then decides to trust the man. She nods politely again, following him into the garden courtyard with Raphael padding silently beside her.

Norris covers Mikal's rear, giving a last look around before dissapearing into the relative safety of this domicile.

Within, the room is dim, and their eyes adjust as the door closes. They are most certainly not alone; in addition to the beardless scholar, there are perhaps half a dozen people there, two of whom are women. Their clothing is in a wild variety: One of the women and two of the men wear jazeraint and carry shamshirs; one man wears green cloth, and appears a bit scruffy but rather decidedly dangerous; the remaining man and woman are in desert-weight robes -- the woman wears a veil -- but are armed with short blades.

"You will understand, I hope" the scholar says carefully, "that we are understandably cautious when anyone -- mortals or aethyrs -- comes to speak with Salah al-Din. We will not allow any harm to come to him. And so, if we may, we would like to ask you what your business is here."

Mikal looks around puzzledly, "Er... is everyone here come to visit with Salah al-Din?"

The armored woman -- a mortal -- gives a wry smile and says, "Once we did. Once all of us did. Those you see here -- and others -- stayed to protect him. We are his mujahideen, his strugglers and fighters."

Mikal says, "Oh! Is that what mujahideen means -- thank you." She pauses, glancing around as she adds, "So... please pardon my suspicion, but how are we to know our quest will not be mentioned in the wrong ears?"

Norris looks with some interest at the armored woman, taking a measure of both the armor, and the warrior wearing it.

The scholar -- an aethyr -- speaks again, "A valid question!" he says, as if welcoming it. "As I said, there is something of a truce in Babylon. The Architect knows that he cannot raze the city, no matter how it affronts him to have this libertine den of iniquity and heresy upon his doorstep. Neither can he control it as fully as he might wish; Babylon is older even than he. So your concern about agents of the Architect is good to hear, and I will seek to reassure you, in hopes that you might in turn reassure us of your motivations."

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Last modified: 2008-Oct-04 19:17:18

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