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RShara

Ashyn Reading/Silence Divine

2 posts in this topic

A transcription of the reading of Silence Divine.  Silence Divine takes place on the planet Ashyn, which is in the Greater Rosharan system.  Please note that this story is Unpublished, and therefor non-canon at this time.

Quote

[Eelyell?] was awakened by the whispering of the dead child who followed him.

“Haszh betaszh bejzak” The girl’s words were often gibberish, though usually he could make out a few of them. Tonight he couldn’t even understand a single one. Which made the whispering even more eerie.

[Eelyell] sat up in his cot realizing he had fallen asleep in his uniform again. He looked across the darkened room, seeking out the child. There, she hid in the shadows beside the wooden bin that held his canes. Small, maybe four years old, she had long straight blonde hair that hung down by her face, ears peeking out like rocks in the sand.

She met his eyes, “Haszh betazh bejzak,” she whispered. It would be nice when that particular Echo passed.

[Eelyell] rose tugging at his crumpled jacket, still enough of a soldier to feel ashamed at its state. His father would have had [Eelyell]]’s head if he’d seen such a uniform. Climbing from bed [Eelyell] took the cane beside it for support, then walked out onto the balcony. He put his back to the dead child, she was a figment, an echo, a side-effect from an Incubation he’d done a few years back. It was so long ago that he was losing hope that this Echo would ever fade. He might be stuck with a hallucination, for good.

He stepped out onto the balcony, using the cane by habit though he was currently strong enough that he didn’t need it to walk. He was recovering from his Incubation two months back. The grind from that one had finally worn off. In fact he was probably too strong, he’d been getting too much sleep lately, eating too well. He needed to keep a certain level of physical weakness so he could be open to Incubations, assuming he wanted to remain effective in his duties. And he did want to remain effective, for his own reasons, if not for the Corps themselves.

Outside on the balcony, the sky burned. It smoldered high above, deep red lines, the color of a serpent’s tongue, like rips in the air. The magma cast a warm red light across the city of [suigmaat]. As always the air smelled faintly of smoke, though he only noticed it when he was first stepping out of the building into the open air. He knew logically that the burning place he saw above was actually the ground. He knew [suigmaat] flew in the air, a city reversed, one of the few bastions of life left in the burning land. [Eelyell] was the one who was upside-down, as were all of the city’s inhabitants. It didn’t feel that way to him, he’d lived here too long. Upward was towards the burning ground and the land, downwards was toward the sky and the sun. Things he never saw except on the rare occasion he was called upon to visit the farms and orchards on the city’s sunward side.

[Eelyell] stood for a time, holding to the cast-iron railing, staring up at the burning swathes high above. Molten rivers, a land destroyed. A warning flag, raised to them all. Omnipresent. Undeniable. The city itself slept beneath that scarlet glare, bathed in red.

“Hiszh betaszh druk,” the girl whispered from behind. She’d crawled out onto the balcony and now sat there looking up at the air.

[Eelyell] glanced at her, “Kareem’s gaze you’re a creepy one,” he whispered, “What must I do to be rid of you?”

“Hiszh beaszh diruk.”

He tapped his finger on the railing and then strode back into his quarters, splashed some water on his face, and checked the sword blade of his walking cane. Seconds later he was out the door.

The offices of the Corps did not look as a police station should. A police station was supposed to be a box like thing, stable and functional, designed to indicate to all who visited that this was not a place where nonsense was permitted. Those ornamented columns, etched with the silver serpents of [Mokdeelor], those golden doors, those soldiers with ridiculous feathered helms. Those were not the symbols of efficient law-keeping. In [Eelyell]’s opinion they were quite the opposite.

He walked up the steps and approached the guards, who were at least armed with functional halberds and two foot-long pistols at the belt. They saluted him by raising fists to their sides. As an incubator he outranked everyone in this building, except of course the ones who actually mattered. [Eelyell] felt a moment of lightheadedness at the top of the steps and was forced to pause there, gripping the railing and leaning on his cane. So he wasn’t completely well, good. Neither guard stepped to help him, weakness was expected of Incubators, one of the marks of their station and being near one of them at the wrong time could be dangerous. One need only to look upward at the burning land to be reminded of just how dangerous.

When his head cleared, he continued up the steps, cane clicking, and passed the men without returning their salute. He stopped just inside the building however, coming alert. Motion. Lesser watchmen calling to one another in a large room, aides carrying stacks of paper. Red eyes and yawns accompanied both groups. Many of these people had been called up unexpectedly, despite the very early hour.

“[Eelyell]?” A woman rushed up to him through the bustle. [Cual] wore the yellow and blue uniform of an Incubator, like his own but better fitting and far better cut. “You look like ash man,” she said, “Aren’t you still on grind leave?”

[Eelyell] looked back at the hall, reading the motion of the bodies. Nobody was going to the weapon’s locker, though riot gear had been set out to the side. Large metal shields and larger swords cordoned in rubber from trees that grew on the sunward side. The people here were getting ready for something, but he didn’t know what yet. A prophecy, he guessed.

“I still can’t believe they called you up,” [Cual] said, “You deserve some relaxation after--”

“I will visit [Patseepa],” [Eelyell] interupted, striding through the room and leaving [Cual] behind. He tried not to let himself be carried away in the chaos. The event that he was waiting for would come eventually, but this might not be it. [Patseepa] made prophesies with some frequency, that was why the Corps maintained her, and why she carried her terrible burden.

It was difficult not to feel tense however, in the rooms frenzy. Nearby a scribe turned and accidentally knocked over an hourglass, smashing it to the floor and spraying sand across it. He spared the sand a glance, it always drew his attention, but he otherwise ignored it, focussing on a set of doors at the back of the room. This must have been an alarming prophecy in deed to cause such a fuss. The guards at these doors were even more flowery with feathers on their shields after an old fashion style almost no one used any longer. The [Moknee] people were now as advanced a people as [Eelyell] had ever known. His own browning-tan skin and dark hair blended in here well enough that he could have passed more [Moknee] himself, assuming he didn’t open his mouth. Which he was never good at doing.

These guards let him pass too and no scribes or watchmen beset him in the hall beyond. Only Incubators were allowed in here. Unfortunately while they presented a more solemn group, it was no less unruly in its own right. Some two dozen of them clumped together at the other end of the darkened hallway like a clot of hair in a drain. [Eelyell] strode forward passing doors on either side set with glass. The small, well-lit rooms beyond weren’t exactly cells, just like their occupants weren’t exactly prisoners, they just couldn’t leave. With the hallways dark and the rooms lit, each window glowed, like they looked into other worlds. Other worlds inhabited by the sick.

It was hard to think of it that way, after so long in this land. The people in those rooms were not simply ill, they were lay Incubators, their job was to stay in those little rooms, bearing their afflictions until they started to recover. Whereupon another individual would be brought in to catch their malady, ensuring the Incubation itself didn’t vanish. It was good money, assuming you didn’t mind the discomfort, which could range from the sniffles to deadly fevers, depending on the Incubation you agreed to receive. And of course there were... other benefits. In one room he passed the occupant, a young man, hovered in the air, reading a book and in another an elderly woman idly tapped on a cup, changing the color of the liquid inside with each tap. In [suigmaat], in fact on this entire land, every disease also granted a special capacity. That ability lasted as long as the ailment did. Many of these blessings were minor, while others were grand. Some few were very, very dangerous. Hence the existence of the Incubators, and of the Corps itself.

An OB spoiler:

Spoiler

https://wob.coppermind.net/events/174-oathbringer-portland-signing/#e8243

Ashyn has been confirmed by Brandon to be the planet that humans destroyed before coming to Roshar. 

 

 

Some discussion of it in this thread here: 

 

Edited by RShara
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