[Khar'shan] Ascendant

Khar’Shan, even it’s ‘brightest’ days, kept distance between its thriving metropolises, rural towns, and busy ports. It was a defensive measure, more often than not, as per usual of the People. War ran in their blood, after all, though they remained more civilized about it than the other creatures that roamed the galaxy. The distance served to exhaust troops, spread them thin - just as the borders of each country did, the invisible lines drawn against varying degrees of natural defenses, be they desert, water, mountain, or seemingly impenetrable forest.

The roads were often long and lonely, as a natural side effect of this. Chana did not mind - meditation and thought were good for Unifying Sight. The quietness felt natural, for someone who had often gone days without so much as a whisper in audible range, but it meant that sudden noises were rather disjointing.

Like the sudden loud chiming (louder, and more artificial than those on her stave) of the device around her wrist - the one that did not serve the amber technology surrounding her other arm. Stranger still, as it was a device she kept more out of habit than not, especially out here, where such things were, up until recently, ‘obsolete’. It used only for messages to and from Elders, updates from other Walkers with guidance for travelling, and, occasionally, for navigation - and Chana barely had need for any of it.

It was a simple message, the Khaljian script scrolling across the tiny screen elegantly, so very different from the batarian scripts she discovered in her journeys.. A simple message, with disturbing implications.

Ta’heri Chana, your presence is requested in Ar-mazd.

A Walker’s Duties included acting as a courier, at times, as well as numerous other particulars that could divert them from the roads temporarily, set upon a defined Path at an Elder’s whim. But rarely did such things conflict with the Walker’s Purpose, and rarer still were they requested to a certain place by name, and if that place was Ar-mazd...

The technological and trade capital of Khar’shan had been entirely depopulated and partially annihilated when the Demons had come. What it had been before, Chana knew only from rumor and whisper - the heart of blasphemy, heresy, and corruption. Once, in myth, it had been the Soul of the batarian people, a center of culture, an irrefutable bastion of the Names, the Pillars, but if nothing else was true, that had long ago disappeared.

The Ascendancy had all but taken over after the threat left them, and used it as an example. Tradition and Order twisted to unrecognizable ends had led to Ar-mazd’s fall. Purged, it would stand once more, a beacon of what Faith could do not only for Khar’Shan, but the Confederacy, and the galaxy beyond.

As she brought a trembling hand to the screen to answer, Chana was not sure whether to be honoured or terrified.

The smell.

It existed, in varying degrees of potency, no matter where she Walked. Major urban centers carried it worst than most, so for the sake of preserving her senses, she strayed towards the rural areas, which had more need for Faith to begin with. Even there, it existed, though it was weak enough that she could forget it, and she had lost her...appreciation for it.

A smog of decay and death hung over the city, mixed with the telling choke of ash and the burning scent of chemicals. Ar-mazd stood by the sea, though the smell of salt was lost here, at least from where she stood on the road several miles away. She’d skimmed local reports - the population had existed of a billion Souls prior to the Arrival, and now, only a few thousand called the towering arcologies home. A year onward, they were still pulling the bloated dead from the wreckage, and the floodwater defenses the city had been known for were still draining in some districts.

Chana’s features twisted in disgust, and she wrapped a scarf around her head to cover her nose and mouth - a trend of fashion here, it seemed, if her fellow travellers were any sign. Useful for the heat of the summer months, now past, to keep the blistering light of Harsa from scalding the skin, but more useful for filtering away the smells.

She encountered little difficulty in entering the city - an official had politely asked for her documents and if she needed assistance in getting to her destination, but once she was in, it was clear why this place had once been known as the Gem of the Motherworld. The Hegemony had been a contradictory sort when it came to preserving the past, so it was not uncommon to see nothing left of ancient times in old cities, but sometimes, such as here, it was a point of pride. There was a sense of familiarity in the way the architecture loomed above her, the curves and edges and patterns laid about the walls - it was much like Seshat, the capital of Khaljah when she had last been in her home country.

Well, perhaps if Seshat had more aliens and far more technology.

The former was surprising - she had expected it, of course, but the sheer numbers...there were krogan, asari...salarian, human, turian, elcor... Most bore the slave markings, the collars or tattoos, but there were a few that did not. Fascinating. Utterly fascinating, watching the interactions between the two. Aliens did not have slavery - at least, they called it something else. Indentured servitude. But, it made her uneasy, to watch the dance of avoidance, pity and fear. This was another reason not to take aliens as slaves. The alien kin did not understand caste, and neither did their free counterparts - interaction would inevitably lead to revolt.

It made her keenly aware of the kohrhesit she wore on a hand - it was designed for self defense, this one, but there were others in the street who wore the glove as it was meant for its historical purpose

The market stalls offered everything one could ever expect to find and then some. Ahead, the sound of shuttles taking off and landing overhead was expected, but still startled her, and the people...

They did not get in her way, and they kept their aktum respectful. Eyes never averted, shoulders pulled back, stance appropriate and head tilted to the proper side. But there was something...off, a current she couldn’t quite place. Wariness, fear, maybe...or worse. Anxiety bubbled in her gut, but she hid it under a perfect mask of distance and proud stance as she made her way towards her destination.

The Elders and those that served them here, in this city and the greater galaxy, had special pardons and went through particular rites allowing them to use the technology here without Shame. Walkers outside of Khaljah underwent similar rituals, though it was more of a temporary grant - an allowance that to Learn, one must understand, and that once Learning was complete, the need was gone. The converted tower that served as a ‘temple’ for the city was one such example - instead of a handle and a lock, there was an interesting holograph that glowed green upon her touch and swept open the door.

Inside, she imagined this must be what the Citadel they spoke of on the extranet might have looked like. Metal. Metal everywhere, all save for the stone floors. The stairs were made of glass, the people wore strange clothes, and here, there were more aliens. An asari peered at her as she walked in, but it was the gadech wearing identical robes as Chana that waved her over.

“Ta’heri! Ta’heri, over this way!” came the surprisingly quiet voice. She cast a wary glance at the asari, and nodded respectfully to her peer. While not as pronounced in Khaljah as it was elsewhere on Khar’shan, there was a degree of deference expected when addressing a male of her caste. While the gadech held no more authority over her than she held over him, it was a ritual expected of them both, and one she had never revolted against, despite knowing several young females that had tried to do so, only to find themselves alone and ashamed much later on.

For his part, the gadech didn’t seem inclined to abuse the ritual, returning her nod briefly without a second thought and motioning for her to join him as he moved towards a small alcove. “I’m pleased you were able to make the journey. My name is Hakal Sam’ghast, adjutant to the Has’mun In-nari. She’s been awaiting your arrival.”

Awaiting made it seem...foreboding. Chana merely nodded in acknowledgement, her voice just as soft as Hakal’s. “I understand. My apologies for the wait.”

The gadech waved one hand dismissively. “No apology necessary. The Has’mun understands the duties of a ta’heri, and that these duties often take time. She would never ask you to forsake your Purpose simply to pay her the courtesy of a visit. The Has’muni are in session right now, but I will answer happily any questions that I can while you wait.”

The carefully chosen words sent a slight chill through her bones. This was no ordinary task, asked of a Kemati who happened to be nearby. No, this was bigger. Or, more likely than not, worse. There would always be detours on the Path, and Elders were well within their rights to request that the Purpose be set aside for a moment for greater Reasons, but to forsake it entirely? She sincerely hoped her discomfort didn’t show. “Was I the only one summoned?”

The corner of the gadech’s mouth curled into a smile and he tilted his head to the right. “Not the only one called, but perhaps the only one chosen. Others have been, and others have gone. You remain to be seen.”

That was decidedly vague, and not the least bit comforting. Her upper eyes blinked suspiciously, but she made no other motion to retort, to counter. “I see.” No, this was definitely not going to go well.

“I fear that is unlikely, but I am in no position to assist. I do not know what the summonings entail, only that there have been many and none have satisfied. In all likelihood you will know more before I do, ta’heri.”

“Must you make it sound as though I’m about to be sacrificed to the mountains of fire?”

That drew a quiet laugh from the gadech, who could only shake his head gently. “No, the old ways are gone and forgotten, and all of those who came before have left in seemingly the same number of pieces. Decidedly uncooked. I am sorry if my demeanor concerns you; it is only that I begin to wonder what great deeds may be afoot that require so exacting a search.”

“...And only among the Kemati? Or have the sedentary been summoned as well?” she mused lightly. All castes had friendly rivalries. Ta’heri and gadech that chose to take the Kemati’s path tended to enjoy taunting the ‘less’ motivated and adventurous that made their Path with rarely a foot outside the temples. This one was clearly one of the latter.

“Only the Kemati have been called,” replied the ‘sedentary’, seemingly oblivious to the mild tease. “And thus far, none have been satisfactory.”

Perhaps not quite so oblivious after all. She laughed, the concern edging away slowly. There was still much to worry about - the apparent exacting parameters of the search, the fates of those that walked out of here unharmed in body, but...in mind, in spirit? The adjutant clearly had very little idea of what was happening, whether it was good or bad. The optimism of her colleague gave her hope, but there was ever the nagging fear that somewhere, she had strayed. There were certainly points in her Path when she toed the lines, when she’d taken her desire to Learn to places that could easily bring Shame to her - or worse, her family. “And yet, they have not summoned you.”

“For all I know, they did. I deal with the Has’muni on a daily basis, and if any of them wished to question me they may have done so at their leisure. Sedentary service has some small conveniences, after all.” That last came with a good-natured smirk.

“Some, perhaps. Such things would hardly be considered a convenience to others.” It wasn’t quite Disrespect, but there were certain benefits to being on one’s own. The Has’muni, regardless of what garden in whatever city they sat in and mediated, were all sharp eyed and quick-tongued. It was a pressure a small part of her had been happy - and honoured - to leave behind in Khaljah.

The gadech made to respond, but was interrupted by a series of short bleeps from a seemingly innocuous device on his belt. “Ah, the Has’muni have completed their meeting. Has’mun In-nari will see you now, if you will follow me?”

He didn’t wait for a response, turning quickly on one heel and striding away, turning back several steps later to ensure that Chana was following. It was an unnecessary gesture, but one that was appreciated nonetheless. Her footsteps were soft, though she allowed the chimes to sing freely. This was still a temple, a place of sanctity and meditation, alien architecture not withstanding. She refrained from showing too much interest, but there was a strange appreciation she could have for it. Even those with little Soul could create wonders - and it only enhanced the beauty of those creations made by the hands of the People.

The gadech led the way quickly, not giving much time for observation, and after a whirlwind of stairs, ramps, doorways, and more stairs, he stopped in front of one particularly plain-looking brown wooden door. “You can go right in, the Has’mun In-nari awaits you inside. It has been a pleasure, ta’heri.”

Khaljah had a love affair with the land. The people had been farmers for as long as time could remember, and even today, there was no house without a courtyard to reflect upon the beauty of nature, no apartment without a balcony covered in plants and flowers and a view of the sky. Even within the temples, there was a nod to the old gods of the harvests, the masters and mistresses of the seasons and the winds.

Especially within the temples, where Tradition was first of the Pillars, before all else. Chana had read about the religions of others, how they would be sheltered completely in stone and glass - a strange concept to those whose congregations sat in open fields and meditated in personal gardens, rain, snow or shine.

The office of the Has’mun, was no exception, and it was a warmth of familiarity when she walked out onto the rooftop of the building, the air clearer and the wind heavy with summer. Plants brushed her robes, her arms, her ankles as she made her way to the center of the garden, where the ‘office’ would consist of some light shelter to keep away the blistering sunlight and a few simple comforts to visitors.

“Ta’heri Chana Asherdu, Kemati, as requested by the respected Has’mun,” she murmured once she came to a stop, the slightest twitch controlled as she deferred to the Has’mun with utmost respect in everything from body language to tonal undercurrent. Full name, all formalities covered with perfection. These were unsettling circumstances, regardless of whatever the true reasons, and one did not approach such things lightly. This was not her home temple, and she was not in front of her mother.

The Has’mun, true to her title, was an elderly woman with a slightly stooped back who sat tending to her garden, a pair of small clippers in hand. She made one or two more quick snips to the plants in front of her before turning to greet Chana, revealing a broad smile, the sort you would expect to receive from a grandmother seeing her descendants for the first time in years. “Ta’heri. Thank you for coming,” the woman motioned for Chana to take a seat on the small bench beside her, “It is not often enough that I get to spend time with one such as yourself. Please, please.”

She took the offered seat, smiling a little. “It’s an honor, has’mun,” she offered softly, graciously - pleased that In-nari was a follower of the subtle respect, rather than abject.

“The honor is mine, ta’heri. How was your journey here? I regret that I am too old to undertake such travels myself, anymore.”

Between the bandits, the racketeers, the krogan and the questions, her journey since leaving Khaljah’s valleys had been...eventful. “Not...what I had prepared for. Peaceful, at times, but in others, less so. I expected worse, however, in some places where things are better than to be hoped for.”

The old woman shook her head sympathetically. “The world is a different place from what it was when I took my vows. It is difficult to imagine from here what the Kemati must go through. There were always many in need of teaching, of course, but now... Well. You know this. I am sure you wonder why you have been summoned?”

Her lower eyes fell - not out of disrespect, but of concern, the most the rules allowed her to show of it - before lifting back up to the has’mun. It would not do to state her presumptions, her worries, so she simply nodded, the universal gesture for ‘yes, please’.

The Has’mun smiled again, again the smile of a grandmother, and promptly changed the subject, taking Chana by one hand and examining her wrist. “This device... This omnitool. This is not something most Kemati would use. Why do you?”

“I....how does one claim to Know anything before Learning of it?” she asked, the hand quivering slightly. She had taken the rites, she had permission to use it by her temple, but, still, the Shame was laid bare. “I cannot...I do not wish to take a place in the Order without understanding what it Means in the greater world. How am I to Guide without empathy?”

“A fair answer, and one forgotten by those others I have interviewed. Even those who used such things. Tell me, what have you learned so far, through this device?”

“That Faith and Purpose exist everywhere - regardless of how far outside the Order one falls. Even those without souls wish to See.... And those who fight Order are easily fooled by promises of a better life, see only the benefits, never the risks, the problems.” Chana paused for a moment, staring down at the blasphemous tool. “There is evil, there is good, and there is more in between. Pride leads too often to Folly, Courage too often to Foolishness...and I am a mere drop of water in an ocean of thoughts.”

When the Elder laughed, it bore the faintest echo of what it must once have been. She was old now, true, but even so her laugh sounded like the wind through the chimes. As a younger woman, she must have drawn the attention of many. “A very thoughtful answer, and one which I will reflect upon later. What of more practical things?”

That was a rather wide range of things. Practical was an odd word, one that encompassed a different meaning for each person who used it. “Camala has an interesting deviation of kalashak I would be interested in learning, and there is a merchant from one of the northern countries that writes a blog on survival skills I have found useful in my journeys.” Chana paused for a moment, pondering. “And it helps when Guiding the more stubborn to see what those outside the valleys think of Kalnehk, the Tar’isi, and...us.”

“Of course. The same Guidance, given to two of the lost, may benefit one and do nothing for the other. Understanding them and their perception of us is an important part of Guiding them to the correct understanding of all. It takes a wisdom that is normally beyond your years to recognize that, and sadly it is a part of our message all too often lost even among our own. We do not partake of their technologies and ways except in desperation, but we must familiarize ourselves with those ways nonetheless in order to properly aid the lost. This is why I have summoned you here, and the other Kemati. I seek such wisdom.”

“I..” How does one answer that? The gadech’s words of the many that have come and gone flitted through her mind like river flies, and while her top set of eyes blinked in confusion, the lower set fell down in modesty. “I am surely not alone in such.”

The Has’mun patted Chana’s hand gently, releasing her wrist at last. “Not alone, no. You express it well, however, which is almost as important. Few of the others have that necessary combination.”

Necessary. The tonal current made the anxiety form in her gut once more. This was much like her Trials, when she sat for hours and recited the Mantras to her temple Elder, expected to verbally annotate passages. When her vows were taken, and her Purpose stated... “Respected Has’mun, may I be direct?”

“By all means.”

“What are you looking for? Why have I been summoned?” It was another fine line to walk, a thin thread between deference and disrespect. One did not question the Has’mun, especially not one of such age and obvious wisdom. However, in some cases, it...seemed necessary. Much like now, when all but the reason had been revealed.

“With the destruction wrought by the machines, many of our people seek refuge in faith. Most have heard of us by now, of course, given our position here on Khar’shan, but few have any access to the true teachings, only the heresies which have spread over the centuries. We seek to correct that. A worthy goal, would you not agree?”

“It is. But...that is already what the goal of the kemati is, is it not?”

“It is, of course, but the Kemati are limited. Most have never travelled beyond Khaljah until now, fewer still have any understanding of what challenges our people face elsewhere. The Kemati are perfectly suited to spreading the faith on Khar’shan... What the lost require elsewhere is something new.”

Elsewhere. Offworld? She shivered a little, though whether from the breeze or from something else, she wasn’t sure. But, the answer to her question was now obvious. “You’re sending someone away from Khar’shan,” she said, barely more than a whisper. “But...why a walker? Why not an esahi, or why would not one of the Has’muni go themselves? Surely a kemati is too inexperienced...”

There was that grandmotherly smile again, and another comforting pat on the hand. “The Has’mun are aptly named. We are indeed old, and set in our ways, and few among us would be suited to the task even so. Kemati, at least those with the right mindset, are ideally suited to the task. The esahi too have a particular approach, one which rarely appeals to those with their own closed minds. Only the kemati, by virtue of their inexperience, are open enough to truly reach others who may not know of us already.”

One of the remarkable abilities of a member of any Faith was their ability to see through words to true Meanings - the ability to read between the lines, pick out truth and lie, and use it in their councils. It was a subtle art, one practiced and ingrained in all of them. So, surely, the Has’mun knew that Chana could see right through the pretty veil she was trying to put on? She was not supposed to question it, that above all else was where the fine line became a bold, thick road.

It did not mean, however, that she was forbidden from being upset with it. Her question was a valid one, a reasonable one, and the answer was, to use a common term found through the blasphemous device, varrenshit. It made her wonder more about the reasons, the real reasons, and each and every possibility was likely worse than the last. “I...see.”

Somehow, the grandmotherly smile didn’t seem quite so benevolent this time. “You will. All will be clear in time... But for now, congratulations. You are to be the first of a new order.”

“I am Honoured,” she murmured, head canted with as much respect as she could muster, given the tremble of fear coursing through her. “I will do all I can and more to represent the Faith, respected Has’mun.”

Religious or not, they were still batarians, and the Has’mun picked up on Chana’s fear easily. “Don’t be so nervous, my girl. You will find the work satisfying, as well as challenging, and you will have the full support of the Esiv. Your needs will be provided for, and you will further our cause immeasurably.”

Right. She took a breath, because that certainly lessened the pressure. “What exactly do you want me to do, honoured Has’mun? When do I leave?”

“You will leave as soon as your duties here are complete. As part of your new Purpose, we will provide direction and Guidance more frequently - you yourself said it. You will represent the Faith, ta’heri, and sometimes that may mean completing specific Tasks.”

Presumably, they would not call her here for just the interview - as in all things, the job must not just be opening, but prepared and ready. And this conversation was feeling more and more uncomfortable by the moment - certainly, there were fallacies in the Order, in the caste...but Corruption? No. Never.

She had already been told she’d been accepted. The tones, the undercurrent, the aktum, all told her that this was not a request. There was no backing away, no slipping out of Ar-Mazd, back to being a simple Wanderer. No point in concerning herself with the reasons why now. “And what Task will you have of me when I leave here?” she asked boldly. The Has’muni were known for their....foresight. It would be unbelievable if they did not already have a Task in mind.

“In your learning, your studies with the device... You are familiar with the divisions in the Confederacy, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know that they, and by association we, are on the edge of collapse. The others are faithless, or at best heretical, and care not for the path. They care not for the path, not for the people, not for anything but themselves, and to this end they work against one another. Not directly, of course - each wishes to maintain the balance, but a different balance than the one we have painstakingly achieved. They work in the shadows, spreading their darkness like a plague across our people, who in desperation are in no state to object. We aim to bring light to the dark.”

It was an obvious enough mission, she supposed. No different than what she had already done on Khar’shan, though on a much larger scale. And then there was the distinct feeling of more than meets the eyes - after all, there was little reason for the Has’mun to be discreet in such matters. Obvious mission, obvious goal, but ulterior motives, almost certainly. Chana’s upper eyes looked up at the elder through the thin lashes - not quite outright suspicion, but in context, a signal of expectancy, of knowing there was more and awaiting it. “And the task I am to pretend I am not doing?”

“The Hegemony was not to be underestimated, even at the end.” The elder shook her head gently, sadness visible on her features. “We have taken certain steps to combat them here, but the legacies of the old Hegemony remain strong - as we intend to send you among the People as an agent of faith, the Hegemony once did the same for more nefarious purposes.” The last was spoken with a hard edge - until that moment, her tone had been comforting, the gentle patronization of an Elder, but clearly her memories of the former government were not fond. “Such a powerful structure, ensconced, is difficult to rebuild, but more difficult to destroy completely. Even the Demons were not entirely successful, and among the stars many of the People have never seen the light.”

Chana was, by most accounts, still too young to have such significant memories of the old government. She knew, certainly, of the Corruption and atrocities, knew her place in such a world, where her caste had been set on the rankings. Things every child of Khar’shan knew, yet...at the same time, she had enjoyed the protection and freedom Khaljah offered to its own children. The worst of the Hegemony had been a distant presence to a young girl, a frustrating force she had personally little contact with beyond her father’s war stories and the mutterings of her elder siblings - and the occasional pilgrim or refugee who survived the journey through the mountains.

She knew enough to know that what the Ascendancy were doing, what Has’mun like In-nari, was good, offering the people a better life than what the Hegemony had. But yet… “Honored Has’mun, what exactly are you asking of me?” Presumptions would not be tolerated, and she’d rather Shame herself by asking for clarity - again, since the has’mun seemed intent on making circular conversation by being vague and not quite as forthcoming as hoped - than by assuming she understood what the Has’mun wanted and discovering she had been wrong.

The Has’mun smiled, again almost sadly, before replying: “Your purpose is still to bring light to the dark. Out there, however, you are to be our eyes, as well as our voice. We need to know what dangers assail the People, and there is none better suited to the task.”

Saying anything along the lines of ‘you’re asking me to be a spy’ was not only stepping past the borders of courtesy to the point of insulting a superior - and a caste elder, at that - but also sounded rather absurd, even in her head. Yet… “I am hardly a diplomat, honored has’mun.” It wasn’t questioning the decision on an elder, not quite, but Chana was well aware of her inexperience.

And well aware that the sadness on In-nari’s face should be somewhat telling as to how well they expected her ‘diplomacy’ to go.

“It’s exactly what you are,” came the reply, “You carry the faith with you, ensuring that it is heard and understood, learning what you can in the process. What a diplomat does is identical. Only the scale changes.” More varrenshit, but there was certainly no questioning now. Something to accept, something to not fight - this was the way of Order, the path of Duty. The dance of carefully chosen words and subtle gestures had ended, and not in her favor.

Chana’s eyes fell in deferment, all four of them watching the orange flickers of the omnitool against the aging skin of the has’mun. “And my family?” she asked quietly.

The elder seemed almost surprised at the question, but covered it up quickly if so. “They’ll be taken care of, of course. You’ll be in contact with them as often as you like, so long as it doesn’t interfere with your other duties. Do you have other concerns?”

Though she missed her family dearly, contact was the least of her concerns. Her parents knew her choices, accepted and supported them with as much resistance as possible and expected, and her brothers likely worried, but there was no concern as to whether or not she would be able to speak to them often. No, this felt disturbingly like exile, which would damage her family’s honor - unacceptable, considering the positions her mother and father held. Yet, this was something she could not question, a topic that could never be breached. The Ascendancy would take care of them, and that was all she would know.

The pause was long enough that the Has’mun picked up on it, and quickly inferred that she hadn’t answered the real question being asked. “Don’t worry, dear. You’re not being punished, nor are they. This is an honor; if anything, your family’s status will improve. There is no harm you can do to them in this Duty.” The older woman’s face suddenly lit up and what once might have been a beautiful smile spread across it, seemingly genuine. “Don’t be so concerned! You should be pleased, this is an important task and one which will almost certainly make you Has’mun someday. It’s alright to smile!” As if in emphasis, the elder’s smile spread even farther. “Come now, the gadech will provide your papers and all you need for travel. You can contact me directly with any questions once you’re underway.”

“Of course, honored has’mun.”


Fin