Salīa trembled, her skin pricking up.
"I apologise," Shiro nervously sat back. "I play the piri flute quite well, and I think you might love it to calm your nerves. I'm sure your night has been long and—"
Enough coin to grant a private room was handed over, but Salīa stayed seated.
"Even if so, why would Salazā be attacked? Even during the age of the Quadrant Lands, when this side was known as Sari, it was the more docile of the four, was it not?"
"That's exactly why. It's the sister and daughter land. In a family, who do most deem defenseless? The mother can hide in the shadows…"
Like Amari, a land descending from Muna, did by disappearing.
"The father can threaten…"
Like Palosa, a land descending Perso, did by banning the threat of magic.
"The brother and son can fight…"
Like Bhuan, a land descending from Hāto, did by fortifying its home and rebuffing intruders.
"The child can be ignored, and the pet forgotten…"
"Wait, what? Child and pet? What do you mean?"
"Oh?" Shiro woke from a daze. "Just that in a full family of all members, that's how it may go. But the sister and daughter can only love."
"When you say it like that, I guess it does make that member sound weak."
"Actually, the opposite, wanderer. It's because the sister and daughter are so strong that threats seek them out first."
"Didn't you call them defenseless?"
"Not I. But those who do not know. You ask of Salazā, so you must know that it is definitely not a land to take lightly."
Salīa hid her smirk behind her cup.
She was quite proud of how formidable her land was and took great joy in knowing that others still felt that way about it, even after its attack.
In perfect flow, the mood of the music shifted slightly, something more alluring, welcoming dancing flower-girls to the center.
Their eyes lowered as if half-asleep, their lips red with promise, and their bodies smoothly swaying slowly and intentionally.
It was their wandering gaze that choked Salīa in a stronghold.
I thank spirit I'm not a man in this lifetime, for my pants would be forever tight. At least as a woman, I can hide the ache between my thighs, she thought.
It seemed the other patrons were quite excited, unable to hide their lustful stares and gaping jaws.
This sped up the pace of patrons spilling coin, quick to purchase some time in the upper tier. Dancers were ushered one by one offstage, with others filling their spot.
In equal fashion, more patrons were let in to fill the now emptied tables in the main hall. Many dancers kept locking their eyes with Salīa, as if daring her and just her to take them.
Yet for many years, possibly even lifetimes, an unconquerable bastion had long fortified itself around her heart.
She loved observing beauties, however, and even had some rare desire to indulge in them – yet that was quickly satiated by taking care of her own pleasure long before she could invite another to.
She had no problem, however, in offering these dancers coin in gratuity. Many looked as if wanting to join her table, yet Salīa was quite happy with the young, sweet flower-girl beside her.
Her eyes tilted to the stranger. By now, she'd come to conclude that he was definitely a high-ranking guardian of some land. Most likely a general. What was surprising was that he also seemed to carry something of an ascetic aura.
He didn't touch the wine and only drank the flowering tea. He glanced at the dancers plenty, but had no hint of drool on his lips as the other patrons.
His long table was filled corner to corner with plentiful food and drink, yet he tasted it rarely and leisurely. Instead, making a feast of it, were all the flower-girls seated by him that he surely paid for, but didn't make much effort to speak with.
The most they got out of him was when a flower-girl pointed to his peeking sheaths and gasped, asking him to tell them what it was.
Other flower-girls crooned, begging to know the same. This stranger, still only revealing his lips, offered a vulpine smile and said, "These are swords."
"But why is it curved so?" asked Kiiroi.
"Curved swords like these are known as scimitars. But these ones are shaped that way because they're made from dragon claws."
The flower-girls gasped, but Salīa rolled her eyes.
This man sure has a lot of dreams to sell, that's for sure. Dragon claws? What has he been smoking to say such things?
"Ha," the stranger laughed softly as if he heard her.
He drank on, letting the flower-girls fill the air with chatter and chuckles.
They even began a game of creating poems on the spot that had to follow a flow.
The next speaker's starting line had to have at least one word from the last speaker's ending line.
Salīa only heard the tail-end of a flower-girl's last line, "While my trials were quite bitter, I became sweeter."
The rest applauded and sipped to her.
"Wanderer, wanderer, it's your turn!"
The stranger breathed out steam, then lifted his head.
"I've never known a nectar sweeter than your lips
Nor a juice that fills me as deeply
Or a wine that leaves me so drunk
My mouth will always thirst, and only you can quench it."
The flower-girls swooned and clapped for him, sipping even more. Salīa felt a sting in her heart and rubbed her chest.
Here I mistook him for a high-ranking general, but he probably makes his coin by cheating innocent women with such a flowery tongue. It's all nectar this, nectar that.
How disgusting.
"Would you like to try?" Shiro smiled, winking at Salīa as if she picked up on something.
"I'm not as good as that wanderer. But let's see.
I've never known a silence sweeter than yours
Nor a song that sounds more pleasant
Or a promise that brings me more joy
If your mouth will always thirst, then shut your lips to quench it."
Some of the flower-girls chuckled at that, clapping. Even the stranger applauded.
"Not quite how the game goes, but it's just as fun, wanderer," Shiro said.
Salīa intended to return, wondering if Bazil might be back. But then dessert was offered, and she had never been one to refuse such pleasure.
She immediately took to the cooled cinnamon-ginger drink, which was sweetened perfectly and garnished with persimmon and pine nuts.
At the center came a plate of fried, sweet wheat-biscuits with rippled edges like that of a flower.
Crowding it were plentiful candied, dried, and fresh fruits and nuts, mostly pears, chestnuts, and jujubes.
There were other chewy confections, but beside the jujube-walnut brittle, Salīa wasn't entirely sure what they were.
Throughout her enjoyment, Shiro had a chance to show her talents and excitedly did just that. She shared her masterful poems, told amusing jokes, and even played her piri flute in harmony with the tunes from the main stage.
Once Salīa's belly was full and she was on her last pot of tea, the music softened with gentle lyrical hums echoing through. Even delicate whistles, reminiscent of Chiro, layered the song.
As if summoned, Shiro rose and spun all the way up to the stage. She danced freely; her shyness shed the more she swayed. Salīa was entranced and no better than the ogling patrons who clapped so loud it echoed off each wall.
"Look at me."
The voice was commanding, heavy, and resolute.
Salīa didn't even realise she obeyed until Shiro had returned, tapping her shoulder. It was then she noticed her head had fully turned to the stranger.
Did he just say that? But why did I listen? And what exactly am I looking at?
The stranger was not facing her, but instead some parchment he was tending to.
"It's what I call this piece," he spoke on, his tone more neutral.
I could've sworn he yelled those words earlier as well. But again, no one else seemed to notice. And what piece does he mean?
The parchment was lifted, but not enough that Salīa could see. Instead, all the flower-girls by him leaned over and excitedly praised him.
"It's beautiful!" they cried out.
"I'd say the same of what you all painted."
Salīa cast a surreptitious eye over, peeking through the slight gaps of the fringe curtain.
The veil seemed to be quite a barrier from afar, but once she inched closer, it was almost as if there were no veil at all.
The stranger's table was set with various watercolors, chalk, and graphite. At the center was a glass dome encasing several red roses, and at the core was that red spindly flower.
What is it? It feels so familiar, and yet I've never seen it before.
Laid flat was the stranger's painted parchment. It was bewitching to all who looked. For he painted that mysterious flower and colored it so carefully that it seemed to carry more life than the living flower he based it on.
The remaining paintings were from the flower-girls, all having painted a red rose each, and they, too, were quite special.
"As there are eight, so eight red roses are painted. How funny," he gave a humorless laugh, not explaining the joke. "Then there is the red spider-lily."
Salīa felt a denseness in her body.
I've heard of this flower before. It grows abundantly in the old Muna region, from Timbana to Amari, all around and in between. No wonder it's so praised here in Echo.
"Could I share a tale of both flowers?" a sweet, but assertive voice spoke.
It was the madam, Aka Tsubaki.
The stranger tilted his glass in approval, and the flower-girls eagerly nodded as if it were scarce for her to appear.
"This flower-house called Echo was inspired by echoes its founder heard of an old tale so special it led to being a crest for flower-houses all over.
The tale has many versions, but at its simplest, it speaks of a man called Benibara who met a woman called Higanbana, and they fell in love.
For many reasons, this welcomed much disapproval. But it was the first blind king, King Zhōngyāng, who approved of them to marry."
Shiro didn't break Salīa's attention, having also been engaged in the story.
"One thing we know about Timbana is that it's one of the oldest lands, as all the lands in the Muna region are.
Another thing is that it was originally ruled by five founders, one of the east, west, north, south, and center.
Each had its roots, which granted them rule, but it was King Zhōngyāng whose roots were hard to trace. But he had such influence in the region that the people declared him as one of the five, and he soon became the most exulted of them."
Aka tapped her red fingernails on the glass dome.
"At all his birthdays, he made sure to have several red roses and spider-lilies in honor of this couple he believed bestowed great fortune upon him for his uniting of them. You see, some believe that this king was a celestial immortal and that he met this couple in another realm."
I've heard plenty of fantasy stories to fill my head to the brim tonight. This will be the last before I leave.
"Either way, the story is the same. Benibara would gift his lover all he had, which, as his namesake, were red roses. In turn, Higanbana would gift her lover all she had, which, as her namesake, were red spider-lilies."
"Oh," some of the flower-girls said gloomily.
"What's wrong with that?" Salīa whispered to Shiro.
Shiro's head dropped, and she replied, "Sister will say."
"Roses are thorned at first touch, but fragrant at the heart. While spider-lilies are soft at first touch, but poisonous at the heart. We gift roses to welcome love, but spider-lilies to leave it. One is a beginning, another a farewell."
Aka's expressions were cavalier, but her words were purposeful.
"Why would the blind king be gifted fortune for such an ill-fated pairing?" Salīa asked softly.
While Aka didn't look directly at Salīa, she spoke on and answered.
"Benibara would say, 'Let's always meet again, we'll never forget each other, since I love you.' Higanbana would say, 'Let's never meet again, we'll always forget each other, since I love you.'"
"This Higanbana sure has a funny way of showing it," Salīa muttered.
Her voice was soft, but some ears did lift to catch her words. Even a subtle chuckle was heard, but she wasn't sure from who.
"Your exhibit is quite unique, wanderer," Aka noted, her eyes tracing to his earrings, unable to see further into his face. "One gift from Higanbana, but many from Benibara. I'm something of a dolt with the arts. Care to interpret?"
"I'd never dare to call you a dolt. Nor is there much to interpret. It was just a way for your ladies and I to make the most of our time.
As you said, Higanbana has a gift so powerful in meaning that Benibara's gift pales in comparison. So, while she needs only to gift one, Benibara can only hope to match her offerings by offering plenty of his own."
A cold smirk spread over Aka's face before she greeted and walked on. All while the rest of the flower-girls sulked over the sadness of such a tale.
Salīa wasn't sure if he was flirting, lamenting, or simply attempting to be dizzying, but she finally had her fill of stories. She had already given up the thought that she'd learn much else.
It was time to return.
She urged Shiro to drink the remaining out of courtesy. And as she lifted her final cup, she heard the words, "Look at me."
She spun to such a fierce call that she was sure it was the stranger. But he and the flower-girls still seemed to be tarrying amongst each other.
"Any other tales to interest you, wanderer?" Kiiroi asked the stranger.
"Hmm. Tell me, what do you know of The Protector?"
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