Lives like a cat in Briaellar!

An Enhiargean saying

Aniallu herself didn't fully understand what had made her rush out of the Serpent's Den. She felt noticeably better after speaking with Irson, as always. But this time everything felt... different somehow. Typically it was the Tanae's words that had a healing effect on her emotional wounds, but this time it was her own resolve that did it, the tenacity with which she had fought for her right to be Alasais' cat. And Alu was afraid of letting it slip away – the state of her soul that had been so hard to catch by the tail.

Her inner Serpent and Cat had been warring for an eternity now, with neither being able to get the upper hand. The war had been tormenting both, draining them, which naturally weakened the sianae. It prevented her from stopping and giving serious thought to a possible solution out of this agonizing situation. She felt that she needed to lay low and wait, and to use the time to scrutinize everything with utmost coldness, to find a way to overcome the second identity that had been forced upon her.

The notion of counterbalance that Irson had spoke of had been bouncing around Aniallu's head for a while now. The difference being that her interpretation of "counterbalance" was closer to "anchor." It wasn't enough to simply balance the Cat's and Serpent's influence on her life, her soul. Her goal was to rid herself of the latter altogether, and then to drop anchor in her "Alaean bay."

Aniallu hoped that her Dirrelejt diploma would open doors to a job completely unrelated to her title. Finally she would have a trade that would engage her to profoundly that she would forget everything except the goal. A goal of her choosing, after her interest. And her hope panned out – the very first offer following her graduation was in total compliance with her demands. Firstly, Aniallu's new place of employment was to become an abandoned dungeon, which meant there wouldn't be anyone around in need of saving, and therefore of waking the Serpent. Secondly, curious cat that she was, she was drawn to one of the past's most notorious mysteries as if it were catmint.

Long story short, Alu had grabbed on to the fortuitous vacancy with four paws, and was going to head out there before sunrise. Unfortunately, due to a silly scheduling mishap she had missed a meeting with her curator from Agadar Academy, who was supposed to supply her with some magical gear that might simplify her investigation quite a bit. Reasoning that, in the absence of information about her destination, the wizard would most likely return to his chambers in the Academy's building, Aniallu decided to look for him there.

The night was too beautiful to deny oneself the pleasure of flying beneath the stars, and so, eschewing teleportation, Alu took to the air, setting course on the Academy. Levitation was never a strong suit the Alae; to fix the matter, Aniallu had long availed herself of a flyboard that had been the craze all over Lindorg back in the last millennium. Called "gleemie," the board was capable of accelerating to such speeds that magic was occasionally needed not to fall off.

But not this time, thankfully, as the Academy wasn't all that far from the Den. Aniallu was flying northeast, savoring the cool night air and the serene and lovely Green Valley meadows sprawling underneath. The endless, slumberous sea of tall grass parted sporadically, edging fields, groves and tiny villages. The dark tetragons of damp plowed soil resembled pits into some bottomless chasms, crusted over with a thick translucent web of the irrigation network. Coats of mica glittered off glass roofs, faceted eyes of gazebo domes and hothouses. Reflections of windows stretched over the surface of pools and ponds in quivering golden streaks.

And there was the blaze of Anlimor – Enhiarg's trade capital, built on the bank of the Lake of Falling Stars. Here and there its waters were sliced by wavering rays of turquoise, rising up from the depths as if they were truly filled with myriad sunken stars that had long deserted their posts in the sky. In truth, the source of the illumination was the city of water elves aka Nalarites, located on the lake's bottom.

Finally, the dark ridge of Dead Mountains swelled into view, jaw-like. It girdled the Adorean Desert – one of Enhiarg's most enigmatic and perilous places. Not a single soul that had dared step foot in those terrible lands, whether a member of a science expedition or a band of overly curious oafs, had ever made it back.

Aniallu veered right, skirting the mountains from the south.

Her body kept balancing on the gleemie, steering it this way and that, but her mind had immersed into a blissful reverie. Flying over Anlimor she couldn't help remembering Dany, but the memory simply floated through the back of her consciousness like a scrap of some half-forgotten dream, eliciting no emotional response...

Suddenly a bright light assaulted Aniallu's eyes, as the deep night shifted instantly into a sunny day. The sianae shut her eyes, turned the gleemie and flew blind until the night reasserted itself. Stopping, Alu scratched behind her ears incredulously: she hadn't realized how closely she had come to Elaan – the land of Light. Their unbearably bright artificial star rarely disappeared from the firmament, and on some days not at all. Like today, evidently. And to keep their "darkness-steeped" neighbors protected from its blinding rays, the Elaaneans were forced to put up a special illusory veil over their realm; the same veil that Aniallu had inadvertently dove under moments ago.

She was now steering closer to the mountains, and was soon gazing at the walls of Agadar Academy.

The imposing structure, framed on all sides by an expansive garden, was erected from semi-transparent stone tinged with a range of caramel hues. It comprised ten towers of varying height, giving the impression of stalagmites, rounded and fused together. Torsos of multi-armed sculptures emerged from the congealed syrup of its uneven walls, propping up massive granite balconies and galleries, ledges and windowsills. Long trunks hung from their goggle-eyed faces, clusters of living lanterns secured to their ends. The castle oozed magical energy, easily perceived by Aniallu's Alaean eyes. She flew toward one of the towers and peeked into a familiar window, but was disappointed to find that the room, cluttered beyond the bounds of decency with all manner of magic paraphernalia and illuminated by a single candle, was empty. The mage wasn't expecting her in his home. Perhaps he had gone to search for her after all, but as Alu considered the odds of checking all the places she was known to frequent (besides, the two could easily miss each other again), she decided to make do with her own resources. The only thing she would genuinely miss was a special device for quick text decoding.

Casting one final gaze at the Academy's walls, Alu noticed they were crawling with hundreds of funny little creatures – six-pawed with rainbow-colored wings, looking like a mix of dragonfly, snake and slow loris. The Alae reached out to pet one, but recoiled when the ashy scale struck her finger with a large spark. The sianae stuck the finger in her mouth and smiled. Tomorrow Professor Agadar would ask students from one of his courses to help him catch some "nasty critters that had rained thick upon his bald head." And later that evening most of the volunteers would discover that they had passed their midterm exam. Venerable Agadar did his best to protect his pupils from stress (with the exception of those studying offensive magic – those were rarely spared.) Aniallu brushed her palm tenderly over the caramel stones. Irson was right – she was terribly fond of the local approach to education. And yet, what she loved most about Agadar Academy was no longer here. And she didn't want to dredge up those memories.

Aniallu sighed, flew away from the wall and opened a portal to Briaellar. Traveling to the Alaean city, soaring high in the sky, over the very heart of Enhiarg, by gleemie would take way too long. Nor was she in the mood for it any longer.

***

It took all of a second for Aniallu to reach Briaellar. Only the powerful magic permeating the city must have distorted her spell, and the sianae ended not quite where she had expected. She emerged through the portal over the Guest District, and dangerously close the rooftops. Alu's nostrils were immediately assaulted by the stench of rust, the kind you would never smell ordinarily, not even by nuzzling on half-decayed chunk of metal. The unmistakable effluvium belonged to the infamous Iltejan waffles. With a wry face, Aniallu darted sideways, wasting no time in escaping the pillar of ochreous smoke rising over the grill on the bakery's flat rooftop.

Making a mental promise to finally file that complaint against the BMSS[1] whose responsibility it was to oversee the safety of spatial teleportations, the sianae flew over Anteroom Avenue, the main street of the Guest District. As with the majority of regular anterooms, the pavement was covered with a motley carpet strip – the longest in all of Enhiarg. It comprised hundreds of segments, each displaying its own pattern, adding up to a real mishmash of visual splendor. Its first part was weaved thousands of years ago by members of the newly formed Council of Esteemed Guests – a company of non-Alae Alaephiles obsessed with Briaellar who have taken upon themselves the burden of managing the Guest and Embassy Districts. Folks joked that all of the Council's hospitability had been exhausted on the first part, so intolerant were they of any expression of disrespect toward their beloved city. Over the long centuries the Great Doormat had grown considerably, as every non-Alae being granted Briaellar citizenship was further honored with the right to extend the strip to their own anteroom.

There were crowds on either side of the street, sandwiching illuminated shop windows. Representatives of hundreds of races crawled, leaped, flew, flowed and rolled from one store to the next, gawking at those guests of the city that managed to stand out even in their motley swarm, and glancing warily at the occasional alien's monstrous (no two ways about it!) form. A small bunch of humanoids – clumsy, wrinkled and stumbling mightily as they moved – flashed silver "body rental" tags, either on their wrists or in their ear lobes. The agency supplied "shells" that were more or less fit for life in Briaellar to those creatures whose own skins weren't suitable for the purpose.

Some of the particularly garishly clad creatures wore a countenance of particular discontent. And no wonder: though they may have been powerful lords, wizards or even minor deities in their home worlds, inspiring reverential awe in everyone and everything, here they were among equals, which must have stung their swollen pride. Worse yet, nobody was fawning over them – not the other customers, not even the lowly merchants! The fact that the locals extended respect in equal measure to all talented individuals, be they sorcerers or art scholars, and demanded the same of visitors to their city, seemed nothing less than a variation of imbecility to the haughty messieurs and dames.

Thankfully, such creatures were few and far between in Briaellar. They rarely ventured off commercial streets or lingered in the city past necessity. Most creatures were drawn here to rub against the Cat's Essence, to bask in her life-giving force that awakened feelings, thoughts, the drive to express oneself, washing away all the extraneous layers... Of course, there were also plenty who simply wanted to experience the city in which every wall, every pavement block, every streetlight and every trash bin was turned into a work of art, and savor all the pleasures it offered.

Aniallu perked up her ears to listen: unsurprisingly, most conversations revolved around the detainment of Alae telepaths by Veindor. However, most of the citizens she came across weren't especially concerned. "Just a misunderstanding... Veindor is probably bored to tears from being alone. His silver dragons don't count – they can't even feel anything, never mind converse as equals... I actually think this is a good thing. Finally we Alae will prove our innocence once and for all, and be done with all the vicious accusations..." Such were the scraps of dialogue that reached the sianae's ears. Still, not everybody shared such positive sentiments. Over on Hind Street, winged silver lizards were on a stick were sold from the open window of a pastry shop. And, going by the crowds of customers, the treat was clearly in demand...

With a bit more peace of mind, Aniallu rose higher and turned off Anteroom. Looking down at the sprawling city below she remembered the bygone days when she and her "sister" Etalianna would spend hours wandering Briaellar, hand-in-hand like little girls, listening to the street musicians, dipping furtive fingers into alien spices, petting cats (and Alae that had decided to shift into them), lapping scented water from fountains (once Tali spent two hours stretched out on the stone border of one such fountain with her tongue stuck out, having indulged the pleas of some artist.)

Bubbling with life and curiosity, Etalianna would peek shamelessly into windows and yards. And the residents seemed all the happier for it. Tali was constantly offered treats, lured to family gatherings and invited to partake in various rituals. At the sight of her kids would dash deep into their homes, only to reemerge seconds later and press their latest artwork against the window glass, out of breath and brimming with pride. Those non-Alae had no ulterior motives. They had already found everything their soul had wanted in Briaellar, and recognized Etalianna as one of the creatures who had breathed into their beloved city its inimitable spirit.

Tali found those things perfectly normal, but Aniallu... Aniallu was ashamed to accept such displays of affection from the adoring citizens. She felt as though she was cheating them, pretending to be someone she wasn't and taking credit for others' work. In those moments she sensed especially acutely her isolation from her people and from Briaellar, for whom she had done absolutely nothing over the course of her long life. Feeling like a forgery of Alasais' Shadow, she spied on the life of the city as if she were a child from Helraad (where magic was forbidden) stealing awed glances at the sparkling window of some magic shop. She wished ardently to be a part of it, but felt that she hadn't merited that honor.

Over time, unable to endure this feeling, Aniallu began avoiding these walks with Etalianna in favor of more secluded spots, of which, thankfully, Briaellar was in great abundance: alleys and piers, roofs of foreigners' houses whose owners kept to a diurnal lifestyle, and, finally, structures that had been erected for precisely the purpose of privacy and quiet contemplation: pavilions, gazebos, observation platforms and temples. Briaellar was an enormous city. It could have easily accommodated ten times its current populace; therefore, heavy foot traffic hardly extended beyond the Guest District and a few commercial streets.

Of all the available spots to hide from the world, Aniallu had a favorite, which she had found back in those distant years. Located on the stepped roof of some four-story mansion, it offered a view of the Embassy District that, though not the best, was extraordinarily peaceful. The sianae had never actually seen the owners, but they knew all about her visits – how else would one explain a heap of blue velvet pillows that had appeared on the third day after her initial appearance, placed neatly by the chimney which she had been using like the back of a sofa?

Before her lay Lake Pupil, long and narrow. Its black waters sucked up the reflections of myriad windows, their shapes ranging from round to oval to triangular, like a salmon's head, gaping into the inky depths from the squat houses over in the Nalarite District. The low banks were dissected by canals, their smooth surface casting a bleak, fish scale-like glare that coalesced with the shimmer of tiled rooftops. Plants enclosed in glass garden walls resembled seaweed swaying lazily in a tank of crystal clear water. Dispersing in the moisture-saturated air, magical luminescence hung in variegated clouds over the heads of Nalarites, clad in garish garb like exotic sea horses, as they dined on their turquoise, pink and magenta lawns.

Gazing at those grasses, with colors betraying their alien nature, Aniallu thought that whoever it was that dubbed Briaellar one of the Infinite's greenest cities was pretty far from the truth. To be sure, the locals were rather passionate about front and hanging gardens, parks and flowerbeds, resolved to festoon every wall with some crawling thing, the more exotic the better, to transform every street into a promenade, but when it came to actual greenery, the city was left wanting. Here in the Nalarite Embassy district it was the hues of the underwater realm that dominated the scenery; beyond it the stepped conglomerate of the four Briaellar Academies towered darkly, garnished with clumps of trees on grassy lawns, living enclosures and tiny groves girdling open pavilions and gazebos that glittered softly with copper and gold.

Aniallu fell back into the pillows. She surrendered herself to the warm Briaellar night, savored it like the embrace of a beloved whose affection she had sought for so long that she'd lost all hope... when suddenly there came a fervid, tender declaration of love... She purred softly, letting her body slack and her eyes to roam amidst the monuments to famous fishermen that lined the little square past the Bridge of Sneezing Cats. Pedestrians were few and far between, but every so often somebody's presence was betrayed by the shudder of a shadow, the crackling of a branch, or the splashing of water. Much like Alu, the city wasn't sleeping; its state of reverie was shallow enough that it could rouse itself from it were anything to happen, whether interesting... or suspicious.

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[1] BMSS – Briaellar's Magic Security Service.

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 Illustraton by DagazSpy  

Illustraton by MariaFiddy1990 (http://fideliada.deviantart.com/).   

Illustraton by RisaDesu.