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Arestevana’s post
Woken abruptly from a dreamless sleep, Maulká realized she had rolled off her low pallet and onto the cold floor of her chamber. She stood up, grateful for the comforting darkness. It was a cool, deep darkness, soothing in its black totality. Maulká neatly folded the thick, warm furs that covered her bed and pulled on her garments. Then she crossed the room to kneel at a small altar and give homage to the sacred ones. She touched the pale burn scar on her neck. It was a sign of the blessing given her by the divine powers, or so she had been told.
Even in the surreal darkness of the underground chamber, no candle lit the small altar. Though she kept her eyes downcast in respectful reverence, Maulká knew that if she looked up, she would see, unhindered by the darkness, the signs engraved deep in the wood. The altar was carved of black lebethron, like the hilt of her dirk. Unconsciously, the woman reached up to touch the weapon sheathed across her back. The dirk, she knew, had once belonged to an outsider. She suspected the same of the altar wood; perhaps it had once been a cargo destined for trade.
Rising, Maulká cast an awed glance at the symbolic carvings. There were rows of curving waves, intricate runes, and the central figure… Maulká quickly averted her eyes. The divine powers! A thing beyond price. She gave a final bow toward the altar and, turning, strode from the room. The following evening she had heard rumors of a catch. Now she would find if there was truth in them. If not… Maulká caressed a leather-covered hilt protruding from the sheath at her left hip. The blade was shorter than her thumb, but wickedly sharp. If not, then that woman, Chiksi, won’t be telling false tales to anyone for a long while.
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