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My brain is offline, seriously, and I am way behind... but I managed to kick a couple of commissions out of the house today and I printed out the Aphorisms to edit them. Since I'm not capable of coherence, though (I am not editing, I note; I know better than to do so in this state), instead I will ask your help: If you contributed money to the Aphorisms project and want your name listed, please make sure you're listed here and that your name is correct. That is the list that's going in the back of the book and I absolutely want to make sure everyone who is supposed to be on it is on it. I think I've gotten everyone, but the baby kind of disordered me and my book-keeping. So please help me out and double-check to make sure you're there if you sent me a donation. If you're not there, you can comment here, or you can send me email (haikujaguar at gmail should be fine). Thank you! Stardancer Home.Tags: donations, new publishing paradigms, the aphorisms of kherishdar
Current Mood: brain-dead
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The final aphorism... and my favorite. I've been waiting a long time to share this one with you.
THIRUKEDI
M.C.A. Hogarth
osulkedi [noun] -- "minister"; highest rank in Public Servant caste, with few members. Osulked serve Thirukedi (the Emperor) directly, but this is not their distinguishing characteristic, as all Ai-Naidar may be called to serve Him. Osulked are known by their service to anyone in the Empire who asks, no matter their rank or their location. They are often sent by Thirukedi to different communities to offer their services, if it is perceived those communities need special aid.
There is a special quality to the Guardians who ward the Emperor, so when the nakked swept into my studio my heart seized in my breast and my knees fell from beneath me. I was prostrate before they had finished spilling into the room, bringing their scent of weapon oil and leather with them.
Into their perfect silence came the whisper of robes and the perfume of incense. Rolled silk hems slid over my hands where I held them outstretched before me on the wooden floor. As I waited, shaking, more people crowded into my little domain: six, ten, twelve, more... ancestors preserve!
Rustle of robes... then long fingers smoothed through my hair and cupped my jaw, stealing my breath. I kept my eyes downcast as He lifted my face but could not still my shuddering. How often in one's life is one touched by the god of Civilization?
"Good servant mine," Thirukedi said in the highest Implacable. "I have heard much about you."
Shock stilled my trembling then.
"Is he always so?" Thirukedi asked, a hint of gentle amusement in His voice.
My liege-lord replied. "He serves Civilization, Thirukedi."
"Look at me," Thirukedi said.
Speechless at this honor, I looked on His face and found it lined with the work of centuries, with eyes both tender and somehow merry.
"Is that so, then, Calligrapher?"
"Yes, Thirukedi," I whispered.
"It must be," Thirukedi said. "As you have served so well that even I have heard of your talents with pen... and truth."
I swallowed and He smiled. "Speak your heart."
"It is all that I long for," I said, stripping the grammars as He asked.
"And would you be pleased, then, if you were asked to do it for all my Empire?"
I almost swayed on my knees. At my wild glance, my lord smiled and said, "You are worthy. How could I keep you? Though I would be honored if you would maintain your residence here."
"What say you, servant mine?"
What could I say, save yes?
The dye used to mark Thirukedi's servants is permanent, and poison. But I bowed my head to Him gladly and He painted me once on the nape of the neck, where only He may touch with impunity... and then, rather than the expected abstract design, He painted the signs of Empire on my hands.
The fever came swiftly afterward, but it was His arms that cradled me until it broke... His arms where I slept.
I was Farren Nai'Sheviet a'Neriethen-jakkedi: humblest member of my family Sheviet, Public Servant to Neriethen's regal Household and its district. Now I am Farren Nai'Sheviet-osulkedi, and my work belongs to all Ai-Naidar... to Kherishdar itself. I could want nothing else. I could be no one else.
You and I shall meet again, aunerai. Until then, may you find the place where you belong.
The Aphorisms Website.Tags: the aphorisms of kherishdar
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The second-to-last aphorism, both chronologically and to be posted. Only one more to go...!
NALAN
M.C.A. Hogarth
nalan [ nah LAWN ], (noun) – influence; one's effect on others (conscious or not).
"Eat, friend," the Physician said, ladling more broth into my bowl. "I don't need you joining the petitioners outside my clinic."
I smiled and obeyed. Every week in winter the Physician brought his broth and I made tea, and we whiled away an afternoon in my studio. Half his reason was to escape his work for a time... the other half, as he forthrightly declared, was "to keep you from brooding. You spend too much time alone."
Few people come to me in winter when they could be indoors with their families. It made me think too much of my own, living outside the city... and of my wife and daughter, both sped from me.
With the Physician gone, I returned to my table. My list of pending commissions was blank... the only piece on my desk was a half-realized painting I had started for myself, which I now resumed. Snow was rare in winter, so the fields I painted were dull umber: the wan sun that illumined this landscape could put no sparkle in dew. I mixed a darker brown for the well-maintained fence alongside the fields, remembering it in every particular as my brush described the burls in the posts. Yellow ochre brought forth a dusty road, shadowed in lilacs made with the same cold blue I used for the sky.
My studio door opened as I washed my fingers between water changes. I looked up and then stood swiftly so I could bow. My lord's heir stood on my threshold, accompanied by his cousin, whom I had advised earlier in the year.
"Calligrapher," the heir said, smiling at me. "The day's greetings to you."
"And you, my lord," I said, Abased. "How would you be served?"
He glanced at his cousin and said, "We were just walking... I thought I'd stop and see the art." Remembering his duties, he added, "And your accounting."
Hiding a smile, I bowed and said, "The books will be set out for you."
The two made a show of going over my records before turning with more relish to the sample art. Assured that they did not need my attention and warmed by their presence, I returned to my painting.
I felt the heir's gaze sometime later.
"It's beautiful," he said. "Is it ours?"
I nodded. "The fields in our district, where I grew up."
He watched me paint a little longer, then said, "May I have it?" He blushed. "You can refuse."
"No," I said, flattered. "All that is mine is yours."
He nodded. And then, "There are no people in it...?"
Surprised, for I hadn't noticed, I said, "An oversight. I will rectify it."
The following day I sent the finished piece before closing the studio and heading for the nearest cafe. The Physician was right. I spent too much time alone. An Ai-Naidari is only as important as what he shares with others.
I didn't stop to write that one down. It would keep.
The Aphorisms Website.Tags: the aphorisms of kherishdar
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