There's no way to drink a shooki in the desert.
At least in Fairhaven, Ba'Naer left her in peace. He'd known her mother well, too. Well, "well known", as a bar owner might know one of his most loyal customers, no more, no less. Ba'Naer fortunately had more yubos to whip up than lecturing a legionnaire, but alas, his shooki was relatively bland. Adding milk helped, but not when it came to serious drinking.
Lyren was thinking, as hard as his fyros brain could. The legion candidates had probably come in such numbers, and the jostling must have been so intense outside the hall door, that they'd probably all become discouraged. Too much competition, impossible, they thought. She'll only take the best, I don't stand a chance. And in the end, not one of them stayed. The result was that she'd seen no one. Not a hint of a fyros' sweat, nothing at all.
The guardian of the halls, the same guardian who had lectured Lyren a few years earlier. [[see: The hall of terror]] had dared... He had dared to explain to her why, in his opinion, no one had come. On the one hand, he'd had the nerve to say he hadn't seen anyone, which for Lyren was unthinkable, a lie just to annoy her. The candidates had come and gone, period. But for the guardian, it was something else.
Another thing, yes.
For one thing, Azazor had been going a bit crazy lately. Everyone agreed, and he had done nothing to prove the contrary. Being under the command of a madman was something many people did without, even if some could enjoy it. But it wasn't the only thing for him. The Fyros Legions, especially since Azazor's return, then with Lyren's presence, and even more so since she'd taken command, lacked... Kamism. Good Fyros Kamism, eh, moderate, fervent Kamism, eh, not the sleepy, blind Kamism of the Zorais, eh. In short, the guardian of the halls knew what the average fyros wanted, he, eh, not to anger the little Kami who guards the dunes under his benevolent eye.
Lyren flew into a rage.
-What do you mean, Kamism? What do you mean, Kamis? If the Kamis were really here for us, they would have brought Azazor back. And my mother, too. And plenty of others before them.
The homin looked at her, tucking his head slightly between his shoulders, not out of fear, but because she was loud all the same. He was used to it. She continued:
- Kamis... Just there to pump your dappers, control your slimy minds, and make you think Atys revolves around them! They've got no more power than a yubo fart! If they could do anything, why doesn't Lykos have any offspring yet, why is the empire on the brink of collapse? Why are so many homins joining the ma...
- What I mean," he cut in, "is that the Fyros legions are historically Kamist.
- Yeah. Officially. Well, isn't that enough?
- Everyone knows you're not, deep down.
- But name me one legionnaire who was a Kamist, convinced! That's nothing new. We're not going to have to go spinning rosaries in the temple in front of the Kami waddling his buttocks, are we? It's no use, they don't care, they want our dappers. Besides, Kamis never wash.
- You're talking like a Karavanière again!
- What's it to you? I can talk any way I want. What difference does it make?
- Nobody wants to see Karavanese Fyros Legions!
- Nope. But I at least dream of never seeing Kamistes again.
- Lyren, you're not going to...
- The Legions, she bellowed, that's me! And I'll be damned!
At least in Fairhaven, Ba'Naer left her in peace. He'd known her mother well, too. Well, "well known", as a bar owner might know one of his most loyal customers, no more, no less. Ba'Naer fortunately had more yubos to whip up than lecturing a legionnaire, but alas, his shooki was relatively bland. Adding milk helped, but not when it came to serious drinking.
Lyren was thinking, as hard as his fyros brain could. The legion candidates had probably come in such numbers, and the jostling must have been so intense outside the hall door, that they'd probably all become discouraged. Too much competition, impossible, they thought. She'll only take the best, I don't stand a chance. And in the end, not one of them stayed. The result was that she'd seen no one. Not a hint of a fyros' sweat, nothing at all.
The guardian of the halls, the same guardian who had lectured Lyren a few years earlier. [[see: The hall of terror]] had dared... He had dared to explain to her why, in his opinion, no one had come. On the one hand, he'd had the nerve to say he hadn't seen anyone, which for Lyren was unthinkable, a lie just to annoy her. The candidates had come and gone, period. But for the guardian, it was something else.
Another thing, yes.
For one thing, Azazor had been going a bit crazy lately. Everyone agreed, and he had done nothing to prove the contrary. Being under the command of a madman was something many people did without, even if some could enjoy it. But it wasn't the only thing for him. The Fyros Legions, especially since Azazor's return, then with Lyren's presence, and even more so since she'd taken command, lacked... Kamism. Good Fyros Kamism, eh, moderate, fervent Kamism, eh, not the sleepy, blind Kamism of the Zorais, eh. In short, the guardian of the halls knew what the average fyros wanted, he, eh, not to anger the little Kami who guards the dunes under his benevolent eye.
Lyren flew into a rage.
-What do you mean, Kamism? What do you mean, Kamis? If the Kamis were really here for us, they would have brought Azazor back. And my mother, too. And plenty of others before them.
The homin looked at her, tucking his head slightly between his shoulders, not out of fear, but because she was loud all the same. He was used to it. She continued:
- Kamis... Just there to pump your dappers, control your slimy minds, and make you think Atys revolves around them! They've got no more power than a yubo fart! If they could do anything, why doesn't Lykos have any offspring yet, why is the empire on the brink of collapse? Why are so many homins joining the ma...
- What I mean," he cut in, "is that the Fyros legions are historically Kamist.
- Yeah. Officially. Well, isn't that enough?
- Everyone knows you're not, deep down.
- But name me one legionnaire who was a Kamist, convinced! That's nothing new. We're not going to have to go spinning rosaries in the temple in front of the Kami waddling his buttocks, are we? It's no use, they don't care, they want our dappers. Besides, Kamis never wash.
- You're talking like a Karavanière again!
- What's it to you? I can talk any way I want. What difference does it make?
- Nobody wants to see Karavanese Fyros Legions!
- Nope. But I at least dream of never seeing Kamistes again.
- Lyren, you're not going to...
- The Legions, she bellowed, that's me! And I'll be damned!