Paloma stands with one younger woman with white hair, dressed in a bright blue satin cloak; it’s night, and they’re next to one of the many canals of the city of Haatt. Next to them, in the canal is… curiously, a woman swimming, who seems to have a fin instead of legs.
“Oh, hello! It's Lochaana, yes? And Raachna? It's good to see you again.” The woman in the canal seems to be in a good mood.
The younger woman looks a little irritated at the… mermaid’s? presence in the canal, though it’s tinged with curiosity. “Lay-dy... Adaa…” she says, in a slow, lilting accent. “You are... still here?”
Paloma—or Lochaana—for her part, does not seem to be in a good mood at all, but rather very tired. “The ‘ah’ sound in Lochaana is a bit longer,” she says, without preamble, a little as if on reflex. “I am glad, though, that the waters flow in the predicted direction such that we would find you here. I think we have a deep well of things to discuss.”
“Oh, yes,” Ada replies, looking back towards the mechanism for a moment before a flip of her tail pushes her away from it and better able to see them. “My sincere apologies, I meant no disrespect Loch-aaah-na.”
The younger woman, Raachna, spares a glance backwards over her shoulder, as if worried for being seen. Then, she crouches down at the bank of the canal, unconcerned with the way her skirts flow out behind her into the dust. "What aare... you fixing now?" Her voice is eager, but a moment later her brow furrows and her expression shifts into a small, stern frown. "It... is better if you do not make changes alone."
Ada’s smile pauses for a moment. “I am not fixing anything yet, only learning. This mechanism works fine, but there is another further along the grand canal just like it which doesn't. So I'm learning the details of its operation.”
She’s always in motion in the water, even as she speaks. “I know how important the canals are to the Martian people, and how sacred to the canal-keepers in particular. Surely I will discuss the matter with others before fixing anything. I would like to learn more about the canal keeper religion too—I find it amazing to have a religion focused around such engineering.”
Lochaana purses her lips. “If you are truly interested in following the water to its source, then you may learn and I—" she glances at Raachnaa— "or perhaps we will teach you. I am not sure, though," she goes on, "that you understand what our religion is, quite yet. Daaryaan is not a religion about what you refer to as engineering; it is a religion about tradition and survival."
"You aare not the first Terran to say these things—that Daaryaan is engineering.“ Raachna's hand has dipped below the surface of the canal water, and while she speaks her fingers trace the elegant curves of the mechanism below. "But you... should follow the currents that Lochaana shows to you. She is... a very wise teacher."
Ada's smile grows at the offer, which turns more inquisitive at the description. "I'd like that very much. In which direction do these currents flow?" Ada slips a little closer in the water.
Lochaana looks a little perplexed by her question, and claps her hands twice, slowly. "Perhaps that is not an idiom the English have. I instruct the young acolytes on the practice of Daaryaan, and on the proper ways—what is akroon, what is haroon, and how to correct one's hoorna. You said you come from Terra; I understand you, too, have certain things you consider correct or incorrect behavior. I believe it is hoorna for a woman to show her ankles there, for example?"
"Yes, there are things which are hoorna there too." Ada speaks the word with a little uncertainty. "I learned them well, and even practiced them before I became who I am now. Those things could no longer apply to me, nor did everyone expect them to. The clothing that would be required would mean I could not swim or move, and would probably make me sink to the bottom of the water."
Ada lets herself ride the current in the canal for a moment before gracefully moving herself upstream again. "I do not wish to offend anyone here, but just like on Earth, here on Mars, some of those things which are hoorna for others may be different for me, precisely because I am something different." Ada finishes with an assertive confidence.
“You cannot travel both upstream and downstream at the same time, though…” Raachna's face is still set in an uncertain frown. "If you wish... to love the canals... as we do... and you say you are not a true Terran.... you must understand what is haroon, and only do akroon.” As she speaks, though, Raachna's eyes wander (to her hands below the water; to the curve of the canal; off to the middle distance), as though she is distracted by some other idea.
Ada's movement leaves her a little further away, and her face shows something between uncertainty and concern as she speaks, “I would like to understand and to do what is akroon.” Ada says the word with a little uncertainty and continues, “But I must be honest. I cannot spend all of my time on land, less able to help your people, and needing others to help me move about. And there are those who also believe I should be in the waters.”
“The issue is not whether you should be in the waters, Lady Ada,” Raachna says. “That is a mere tributary next to a river, in the grand scheme of things.”
Lochaana stretches, considering her words. “A sadly common issue is that because Terrans have different considerations in what is correct behavior, they believe that they may disregard our ways as they will while in our home—that our ways are not worthy of their respect. While you may treat our canals with care and respect, we are unused to Terrans doing so, and you have not yet earned the trust of all our people. While you may not consider yourself a Terran, to be of Mars is not a matter of simply declaring it your home. Some may accept you already, but in an unforgiving season such as this we must demand that the stream flow in reverse as well.”
Ada clearly thinks about this for a time, swimming to and fro in thought before approaching closer again, her hand on the shore. “I would like to learn and respect the ways here. To value them. To earn that trust.”
She pauses before continuing, as if it's hard to say: “I guess in my excitement to learn and be here, I let myself get ahead of where I should be these last two months. I shouldn't have moved so quickly, or put my learning of the canals ahead of learning the ways here.” Sighing, she looks to each one of them, standing above her.
Lochaana smiles—the smile of a teacher who has finally seen some promise after so many disappointing students. "Good," she says. "I understand better than you know the allure—and the danger—of throwing oneself into something new and exciting for the sake of that newness."
She pauses, her expression slightly rueful in a wistful way, but doesn't elaborate. “That is not to say that learning the canals and their ways is not as important; it is another river running in parallel, and of great importance as well. The canals must flow; to serve that purpose is the highest of akoorna, as they sustain all life on Mars. But so much knowledge has been lost, over the years. Therein lies the other problem; many of our people do not understand what must be done to save the canals, and they fear deviations from the accepted traditions. As many as revere you will hate you and try to hunt you down for what you do—maybe more.”
She stops again, and glances at Raachnaa. “Just as they would me, if the full extent of my work were to become public.”
Raachna's hand, midway through some minuscule adjustment to an underwater gauge, freezes in place. She sits up from her spot at the canal bank to turn back towards Lochaana; blinks a few times; lifts her hands as if to make some motion, and then drops them again.
“Lochaana, you—“ Her hands hover uncertainly at her midsection. ”What... do you mean by this?”
The younger woman switches to a different language, their own language—
I have looked to you for guidance in my research, on matters of darool.
Lochaana nods—solemn. You have, and I would not lead you in any direction I thought was astray. What we seek is not darool—it is the highest akoorna. But so many have lost the way that they would not understand. If we did as we should the canals would flow, and yet they would rather leave this great haroon uncorrected than question that we may be missing something.
There’s a pause, as Raachna considers the weight of her next words: The Pook-Yaan said I was Soongi.
Lochaana does not quite answer. Instead: Do you think he was wrong?
I… She hesitates. I have never met any Soongi. I only want what is akroon. Then, she breaks eye contact, and her next words are quieter. But ... even if my work makes me like the Soongi... I do not wish to stop.
Lochaana gives a small smile. If you were to call yourself Soongi, you would not be alone. She raises an eyebrow, and some of the playful tone returns to her voice. And I think you know better than to say that you have never met any Soongi.
Raachna is clearly taken aback—so much aback, in fact, that one arm slips backwards into the water of the canal, and she makes a startled yip and has to scramble with her free hand to prevent herself falling in entirely—Ada, looking on in silence and clearly not understanding the conversation, helps catch her. But... but you— you are Tooyaan of Meepsoor now!
A shrug. Yes, and I'd be surprised if the Pook-yaan hasn't at least gotten an idea by now, but as you noted, he is rather the pragmatist, isn't he. Is it so surprising that many of us end up in high positions? After all, we are some of the most dedicated and capable of the priesthood.
Raachna finishes dragging herself from the water (with no small help from Ada); one of her sleeves is entirely soaked, and she holds it low and hesitant across her body. Then, still somewhat uncertain, she takes Lochaana's offered hand and rises once more to her feet.
…I only ever wanted akoorna, she says. But it is, in so many ways, as is always said: the canals must flow. It is just... I do not know what to do, when the waters are high enough to drown in.
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"I think you know better than to say that you have never met any Soongi."
“Oh, hello! It's Lochaana, yes? And Raachna? It's good to see you again.” The woman in the canal seems to be in a good mood.
The younger woman looks a little irritated at the… mermaid’s? presence in the canal, though it’s tinged with curiosity. “Lay-dy... Adaa…” she says, in a slow, lilting accent. “You are... still here?”
Paloma—or Lochaana—for her part, does not seem to be in a good mood at all, but rather very tired. “The ‘ah’ sound in Lochaana is a bit longer,” she says, without preamble, a little as if on reflex. “I am glad, though, that the waters flow in the predicted direction such that we would find you here. I think we have a deep well of things to discuss.”
“Oh, yes,” Ada replies, looking back towards the mechanism for a moment before a flip of her tail pushes her away from it and better able to see them. “My sincere apologies, I meant no disrespect Loch-aaah-na.”
The younger woman, Raachna, spares a glance backwards over her shoulder, as if worried for being seen. Then, she crouches down at the bank of the canal, unconcerned with the way her skirts flow out behind her into the dust. "What aare... you fixing now?" Her voice is eager, but a moment later her brow furrows and her expression shifts into a small, stern frown. "It... is better if you do not make changes alone."
Ada’s smile pauses for a moment. “I am not fixing anything yet, only learning. This mechanism works fine, but there is another further along the grand canal just like it which doesn't. So I'm learning the details of its operation.”
She’s always in motion in the water, even as she speaks. “I know how important the canals are to the Martian people, and how sacred to the canal-keepers in particular. Surely I will discuss the matter with others before fixing anything. I would like to learn more about the canal keeper religion too—I find it amazing to have a religion focused around such engineering.”
Lochaana purses her lips. “If you are truly interested in following the water to its source, then you may learn and I—" she glances at Raachnaa— "or perhaps we will teach you. I am not sure, though," she goes on, "that you understand what our religion is, quite yet. Daaryaan is not a religion about what you refer to as engineering; it is a religion about tradition and survival."
"You aare not the first Terran to say these things—that Daaryaan is engineering.“ Raachna's hand has dipped below the surface of the canal water, and while she speaks her fingers trace the elegant curves of the mechanism below. "But you... should follow the currents that Lochaana shows to you. She is... a very wise teacher."
Ada's smile grows at the offer, which turns more inquisitive at the description. "I'd like that very much. In which direction do these currents flow?" Ada slips a little closer in the water.
Lochaana looks a little perplexed by her question, and claps her hands twice, slowly. "Perhaps that is not an idiom the English have. I instruct the young acolytes on the practice of Daaryaan, and on the proper ways—what is akroon, what is haroon, and how to correct one's hoorna. You said you come from Terra; I understand you, too, have certain things you consider correct or incorrect behavior. I believe it is hoorna for a woman to show her ankles there, for example?"
"Yes, there are things which are hoorna there too." Ada speaks the word with a little uncertainty. "I learned them well, and even practiced them before I became who I am now. Those things could no longer apply to me, nor did everyone expect them to. The clothing that would be required would mean I could not swim or move, and would probably make me sink to the bottom of the water."
Ada lets herself ride the current in the canal for a moment before gracefully moving herself upstream again. "I do not wish to offend anyone here, but just like on Earth, here on Mars, some of those things which are hoorna for others may be different for me, precisely because I am something different." Ada finishes with an assertive confidence.
“You cannot travel both upstream and downstream at the same time, though…” Raachna's face is still set in an uncertain frown. "If you wish... to love the canals... as we do... and you say you are not a true Terran.... you must understand what is haroon, and only do akroon.” As she speaks, though, Raachna's eyes wander (to her hands below the water; to the curve of the canal; off to the middle distance), as though she is distracted by some other idea.
Ada's movement leaves her a little further away, and her face shows something between uncertainty and concern as she speaks, “I would like to understand and to do what is akroon.” Ada says the word with a little uncertainty and continues, “But I must be honest. I cannot spend all of my time on land, less able to help your people, and needing others to help me move about. And there are those who also believe I should be in the waters.”
“The issue is not whether you should be in the waters, Lady Ada,” Raachna says. “That is a mere tributary next to a river, in the grand scheme of things.”
Lochaana stretches, considering her words. “A sadly common issue is that because Terrans have different considerations in what is correct behavior, they believe that they may disregard our ways as they will while in our home—that our ways are not worthy of their respect. While you may treat our canals with care and respect, we are unused to Terrans doing so, and you have not yet earned the trust of all our people. While you may not consider yourself a Terran, to be of Mars is not a matter of simply declaring it your home. Some may accept you already, but in an unforgiving season such as this we must demand that the stream flow in reverse as well.”
Ada clearly thinks about this for a time, swimming to and fro in thought before approaching closer again, her hand on the shore. “I would like to learn and respect the ways here. To value them. To earn that trust.”
She pauses before continuing, as if it's hard to say: “I guess in my excitement to learn and be here, I let myself get ahead of where I should be these last two months. I shouldn't have moved so quickly, or put my learning of the canals ahead of learning the ways here.” Sighing, she looks to each one of them, standing above her.
Lochaana smiles—the smile of a teacher who has finally seen some promise after so many disappointing students. "Good," she says. "I understand better than you know the allure—and the danger—of throwing oneself into something new and exciting for the sake of that newness."
She pauses, her expression slightly rueful in a wistful way, but doesn't elaborate. “That is not to say that learning the canals and their ways is not as important; it is another river running in parallel, and of great importance as well. The canals must flow; to serve that purpose is the highest of akoorna, as they sustain all life on Mars. But so much knowledge has been lost, over the years. Therein lies the other problem; many of our people do not understand what must be done to save the canals, and they fear deviations from the accepted traditions. As many as revere you will hate you and try to hunt you down for what you do—maybe more.”
She stops again, and glances at Raachnaa. “Just as they would me, if the full extent of my work were to become public.”
Raachna's hand, midway through some minuscule adjustment to an underwater gauge, freezes in place. She sits up from her spot at the canal bank to turn back towards Lochaana; blinks a few times; lifts her hands as if to make some motion, and then drops them again.
“Lochaana, you—“ Her hands hover uncertainly at her midsection. ”What... do you mean by this?”
The younger woman switches to a different language, their own language—
I have looked to you for guidance in my research, on matters of darool.
Lochaana nods—solemn. You have, and I would not lead you in any direction I thought was astray. What we seek is not darool—it is the highest akoorna. But so many have lost the way that they would not understand. If we did as we should the canals would flow, and yet they would rather leave this great haroon uncorrected than question that we may be missing something.
There’s a pause, as Raachna considers the weight of her next words: The Pook-Yaan said I was Soongi.
Lochaana does not quite answer. Instead: Do you think he was wrong?
I… She hesitates. I have never met any Soongi. I only want what is akroon. Then, she breaks eye contact, and her next words are quieter. But ... even if my work makes me like the Soongi... I do not wish to stop.
Lochaana gives a small smile. If you were to call yourself Soongi, you would not be alone. She raises an eyebrow, and some of the playful tone returns to her voice. And I think you know better than to say that you have never met any Soongi.
Raachna is clearly taken aback—so much aback, in fact, that one arm slips backwards into the water of the canal, and she makes a startled yip and has to scramble with her free hand to prevent herself falling in entirely—Ada, looking on in silence and clearly not understanding the conversation, helps catch her. But... but you— you are Tooyaan of Meepsoor now!
A shrug. Yes, and I'd be surprised if the Pook-yaan hasn't at least gotten an idea by now, but as you noted, he is rather the pragmatist, isn't he. Is it so surprising that many of us end up in high positions? After all, we are some of the most dedicated and capable of the priesthood.
Raachna finishes dragging herself from the water (with no small help from Ada); one of her sleeves is entirely soaked, and she holds it low and hesitant across her body. Then, still somewhat uncertain, she takes Lochaana's offered hand and rises once more to her feet.
…I only ever wanted akoorna, she says. But it is, in so many ways, as is always said: the canals must flow. It is just... I do not know what to do, when the waters are high enough to drown in.