Saun 39, 709, Late Afternoon
Beach outside of Ne’Haer
The new year was coming, as was an end to the oppressive heat of two suns. Tomorrow would bring quite the family gathering, practically their whole clan sprawling out on the beach with food and drink to celebrate the setting of the suns, to reflect upon the past year, to give themselves new names, to make promises, and, of course, just to party. Pash was excited, for his sloop—The Muse as he’d planned to call her—was almost finished and would be ready for her first real sail in another ten-trial or so if the weather proved itself willing to cooperate despite the season’s near-unbearable heat.
Escaping as early as he could from the oppressive heat of the shipyard, eager to get to the beach if only for a hint of a breeze and the cool of the water, Pash wanted to pause at his home to grab his lute, though he knew doing so would attract the attention of his siblings, if no one else. The house was quiet enough, and the aspiring musician crept past the hearth and up the stairs toward the room he still shared with his brothers (much to his chagrin), assuming his mother was still at the market with her woven goods and his brothers and sister with cousins or elsewhere.
Stepping carefully over his youngest brother, Kadem’s, general mess to get to his humble corner of the room, he snatched up his grandfather’s old mother-of-pearl inlaid lute and slid it over his shoulder. Slipping back out of the room, he turned toward the stairs and nearly stumbled over his sister who was already laughing at him, hands on her hips,
“Where are you going?” Closest to him in age, they were barely two arcs apart and had probably spent arcs of their younger times at odds with each other. Now, of course, Pash understood her mock-anger question as insistence to invite her with him, not a threat to tattle at his potential escapade.
“Me? Just to the beach, Unja. Come swim and sing with me—then you can’t tell anyone.” The taller Biqaj winked in a conspiratory fashion at his sister with her sun-washed brown hair and now-mischevious emerald gaze that mirrored his own. He moved as if to skirt past her, the grin on her face his answer,
“I didn’t want to do any washing anyway. Let’s go before anyone else notices.” She all but shoved him down the stairs, one hand catching the strap of his lute and allowing herself to be led once more into trouble by the older boy who never seemed to have any qualms about doing so on any trial. Ever.
Once out of the house, Pash picked a direction to head down the beach, aware that he’d have to pass a few more homes along the way, most of these various houses belonging to their clan, their extended family. In Saun’s baking heat, most of the houses were open to the breeze, windows flung open and porch doors hoping that some of the sea’s soothing coolness would drift their way. Aware that this meant passing in view of other folks who may want to join them in their escapades, the aspiring musician kept an eye out for familiar faces along the way.
Escaping as early as he could from the oppressive heat of the shipyard, eager to get to the beach if only for a hint of a breeze and the cool of the water, Pash wanted to pause at his home to grab his lute, though he knew doing so would attract the attention of his siblings, if no one else. The house was quiet enough, and the aspiring musician crept past the hearth and up the stairs toward the room he still shared with his brothers (much to his chagrin), assuming his mother was still at the market with her woven goods and his brothers and sister with cousins or elsewhere.
Stepping carefully over his youngest brother, Kadem’s, general mess to get to his humble corner of the room, he snatched up his grandfather’s old mother-of-pearl inlaid lute and slid it over his shoulder. Slipping back out of the room, he turned toward the stairs and nearly stumbled over his sister who was already laughing at him, hands on her hips,
“Where are you going?” Closest to him in age, they were barely two arcs apart and had probably spent arcs of their younger times at odds with each other. Now, of course, Pash understood her mock-anger question as insistence to invite her with him, not a threat to tattle at his potential escapade.
“Me? Just to the beach, Unja. Come swim and sing with me—then you can’t tell anyone.” The taller Biqaj winked in a conspiratory fashion at his sister with her sun-washed brown hair and now-mischevious emerald gaze that mirrored his own. He moved as if to skirt past her, the grin on her face his answer,
“I didn’t want to do any washing anyway. Let’s go before anyone else notices.” She all but shoved him down the stairs, one hand catching the strap of his lute and allowing herself to be led once more into trouble by the older boy who never seemed to have any qualms about doing so on any trial. Ever.
Once out of the house, Pash picked a direction to head down the beach, aware that he’d have to pass a few more homes along the way, most of these various houses belonging to their clan, their extended family. In Saun’s baking heat, most of the houses were open to the breeze, windows flung open and porch doors hoping that some of the sea’s soothing coolness would drift their way. Aware that this meant passing in view of other folks who may want to join them in their escapades, the aspiring musician kept an eye out for familiar faces along the way.
