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Ancient Scrolls
Iruvande S'Akhiy'Rhienn and Nacilme t'Rhaaerjhu
It felt weird, as if the whole universe had turned on its head. And
yet the feeling was almost an anticlimax. She'd expected to be joyous,
full of the jubilation of a battle long fought and hard won. But here
she was, in the rooms of the most unusual Rihannsu she'd ever met, with
nothing to do but twiddle her thumbs and poke her nose into Iruvande's
belongings. Not that it mattered really, but Nacilme wanted to know as
much about the mysterious woman as possible. She was family.
Taking down one of the ancient scrolls from the rack, she eased it open
with educated fingers. The script was like nothing she'd ever seen.
It was old, older by far than anything in the Rhaaerjhu library at
home. Her fingers traced the letters as something tickled the back of
her memory. This wasn't written in Rihan, that was for certain. It
reminded her of something she'd seen once in a museum.
Each letter was long and thin with winding spirals around a vertical
line. There was no way she could read it so she rolled it back up and
returned it to the rack. Each scroll she took down contained the same
twisting letters in incomprehensible volume. With a sigh, she took the
latest one to Iruvande's desk and tried to at least see if she saw a
pattern in it.
The scene that met Iruvande as she strode into her sitting room come
office made her stare. Every surface was covered in scrolls, including
the floor. Anything heavy enough had been used to keep them open,
including several personifications of the Elements. Nacilme was also
on the floor, her feet kicking back and forth as she poured over one of
the most ancient scrolls Iruvande owned. She was humming a childish
nursery rhyme with her tongue just sticking out.
"What," Iruvande said in quietly controlled anger, "is the meaning of
this?"
Nacilme blinked then beamed up at the thin woman. "These are Vulcan!
They're written in ancient Vulcan script. How old are they?" Lifting
the one she was working on, she waved at Iruvande. "How old is this
one?"
Iruvande gaped at her, her anger drawing a high green to her cheeks.
"How dare thee! Get thee away from these!"
Tilting her head to the side, Nacilme shifted into a sitting position.
"If I'm Lore Keeper, I've got to learn about the history of this
family." The scroll was cradled in her lap, her soft fingers brushing
it lightly. "This is a birth scroll. Whose is it?" Dark eyes met
green and Nacilme stared just as hard as Iruvande.
"What relevance is that?" she said haughtily.
"It's yours, isn't it?"
"What relevance?"
Nacilme shrugged one shoulder but kept up eye contact. "If it's our
history then it's of intense relevance. How old is this scroll? I
can't read the date."
"Old," Iruvande said simply, kneeling to start gathering her precious
library together.
"How old?"
"Very," Iruvande replied, glaring at her for a second.
Biting her lip, she tried for a different track. "How old are you?"
"Old." Each scroll was lovingly re-rolled and placed back in its
designated compartment of the rack. With a nod of respect, she noted
that none of them had been damaged. The girl at least knew how to
handle old vellum.
"That's no answer!" Huffing, she held the scroll up again. "This is
written in ancient Vulcan. Even the priestesses haven't used that in
centuries. Birth scrolls haven't been in anything but regular script
in over fifteen hundred years. I think this is your birth scroll, so
either you were a very special birth or you're older than you look."
Iruvande raised one eyebrow at her then glanced down at her pale white
hands. "I would say an albino is special," she smirked. "How many do
you know of?"
"I..." Nacilme bit her bottom lip and shrugged. "I only know you."
"There have been twelve albinos born since the Sundering. Three died
of birth related illnesses. Two were murdered at birth for being
impure. Five have died in wars. That leaves two that live. We are
rare, child. An aberration of the species, and such aberrations are
extremely unusual with Rihannsu genetics."
"But the paper is really old too," Nacilme insisted.
"Vellum," came the correction, followed by a shrug. "It is saved for
the special births."
"But... but..." She sighed as she held the scroll open to read it
again. Not that she could read much of it, but the little she could
told her even the ink was old. "The creature this was made from's
extinct, isn't it?"
"Ie." Iruvande completed the storing and tidying, her eyes settling on
the final scroll. "I am the last of my line, child. What does it
matter how old I am?"
"It matters for the lore." Offering up the scroll, she sighed as she
watched Iruvande take it to a safe in the wall. "I'm never going to be
able to read that again, am I?"
"That is correct. This is the most important document I own. It is
older than the Empire, it dates to before the Sundering, it remains in
here and thee will not ask to see it again."
"You're that old?" Nacilme gaped, her head spinning with questions.
What this woman must have seen...
"I have not said this is my birth scroll," Iruvande said smoothly,
closing the safe door with a firm click.
"Oh have it your way then," she huffed, pulling herself to her feet and
glaring openly at Iruvande. "How am I meant to be Lore Keeper if you
won't tell me anything?"
"Use thy brain," she smirked then laughed openly at the girl's sour
_expression_. "Be free with thy thoughts and ideas but accept that there
are things that I will not answer, no matter how many times thee asks
me."
"Like your age?" she asked innocently.
"Ie, like my age." Iruvande rolled her eyes but offered her hand out
to the young woman. "Come, we will dine. Have thee eaten this day?"
"Na, I got a little distracted." Taking the hand, she shrugged. "I
don't eat all that much."
"Neither do I," Iruvande said with an honest smile. "We make a good
partnership then, thee and I."
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