Chapter 21: In the Shadow of the Aga Khan
)===(>>>>>>>>>>>>>> <<<<<<<<<<<<<<)===(
It was early morning, the light of first day barely turning the eastern sky lavender when Aylanna slipped from the rooms of the Aga Khan and made her way to the women's quarters. She knew all the courtesans were still asleep and would be until midday. There was little chance that she would be interrupted in her bath. Bathing was the one thing she had come to value about staying here in the vast court of the Aga Khan, beyond being close to Jhardron.
She stripped and washed quickly intending to be gone from him for only minutes. In the days and weeks that had followed the council's naming Jhardron Aga Khan, he had been working himself to exhaustion. The state of the court and the empire was in shambles, the old Aga Khan had not attended to a single issue, no matter how trivial or pressing for months if not years. Jhardron may have been reluctant to assume the mantle of power but as soon as he had taken the seat of the Aga Khan he had thrown himself headlong into the role. He had insisted she be there always, never more than an arm's length away. He never openly consulted her, rarely even spoke with her in the presence of others but she knew he took strength from her presence. And he would listen when she would finally intervene, pulling him away from the business of government back to his rooms, insisting he eat or sleep.
Aylanna was so lost in thought that she did not sense the presence of another watching her.
"You are an elusive creature." The high priestess stood in the doorway of the bathing rooms.
Aylanna continued to wash herself, rinsing her hair. "I know not what you speak of. I have been here in the court."
The old woman chuckled, "Oh, there has been little question of your whereabouts. Even the lowliest lann'akh in the furthest corner of the land would know where to seek you out. All one must do is look into the shadow of our new Aga Khan to find the demon witch. It is that very fact, the fact that you never seem more than a step behind the boy, never alone that has presented a challenge to me."
"A challenge, Mother?" Aylanna wondered what the old woman's name had once been, if she had ever had a name. It seemed that once someone had assumed a rank, the rank became the identity. Jhardron's name had seemed to evaporate as soon as the council had named him Aga Khan. It was slightly amusing that the people tended to name him the 'new' Aga Khan to somehow separate him from his recently deceased father. The High Priestess of the Temple of Pan'Shash'Sha'Am was known only as 'The High Priestess' and affectionately called 'Mother' or 'Grandmother' to her face.
And then there was the mystery of herself. Who was strange looking girl with white skin, hair like fire and eyes like smoke? Her name had never been widely known. And her rank was an enigma. She was female, yet the few times she left the side of Jhardron, she walked independently through the old fortress. She did not dress or behave like a courtesan and she was rarely in the women's quarters. Rumors that she had used magical powers to somehow reanimate the corpse of the old Aga Khan had spread quickly. Without name or rank, the label of 'the demon witch' had become her name. Aylanna had felt no particular motivation to rectify this misconception, if it was an error. The title tended to make people fear her, and that fear meant few approached or spoke to her. Aylanna appreciated that fact.
And in truth she was a witch. She did have magic. While the old Aga Khan had not been truly dead and she had not in fact revived the dead even briefly, she did have powers, powers not even she knew the limit of. Aylanna had sensed a seething interest directed toward her from this powerful woman ever since she had become embroiled in the events surrounding the death of the former Aga Khan, ever since she had revealed too many hints of those powers. She knew that the priestess was curious to learn exactly the measure of this strange girl that was the perpetual companion of the new Aga Khan.
The priestess made an exasperated sound. "Do not play with me child. You know as well as I that you have avoided me like a mouse hides from the hunting fox."
Aylanna could not help but smile, "Are you a hunting fox, mother? Are you going to snap me up, toss me into the air and swallow me like a morsel?"
The old woman chuckled, "Perhaps my words were ill chosen. Come, child, all I wish to do is to become your friend, to get to know you. Few people seem to know you and when they do the stories they tell are strange and contradict one another. Anyway, I would prefer to learn from you who you are." The priestess paused and then added firmly, "...what you are."
A cool breeze from an open window sent a chill over Aylanna's damp body. She could feel the prickle of goose flesh spread across her skin. She looked around the large bathing room toward the large pool with the noisy fountain in the center. She pointed toward the water. "Mother, do you swim? It was my Khan that taught me to swim. Come, come out to the water and I will tell you that story and perhaps others if the mood strikes me."
The old woman frowned and looked at Aylanna like she had lost her mind. "Swim?"
Aylanna could not help but laugh, "Yes, swim. It is lovely." She turned, stepped into the water and beckoned. The water was not deep, barely coming up to her breasts, "Do not be afraid. It is neither deep nor cold." She gestured toward the fountain where the falling water made a continual music, "And it is a good place to talk."
Finally the old priestess smiled and nodded her understanding. She pulled the perfectly white shift off over and gingerly lowered herself into the water. Her body was a withered bundle of sticks, her breasts only wrinkled empty sacks of skin that hung low over a soft sagging belly. She walked carefully through the water until she stood close to Aylanna and the masking sound of falling water. She frowned thoughtfully and swept her hands through the water experimentally, "I cannot remember the last time I swam; it was many lifetimes ago, in a childhood almost forgotten, long before I was sent to the temple as a novice. Service to the goddess leaves little time for frivolity."
"Does the goddess frown upon frivolity?"