"Tales From The House of Sartrav I"

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"Tales From The House of Sartrav, I"

Ancestral History - Lieutenant j.g. T'Parek

164090 Old Golic Calendar

 

Millennia before Lieutenant j.g. T'Parek was born...

 

The air was hot; the kind of heat that drove the unstable to insanity and the weak of heart to the balmy comfort of their homes. The faintest of breezes traveled through the air like a playful satyr, dancing across the arid landscape with an affection for the desert that seemed almost alive. The day had a certain stillness that belied the warfare that had plagued the Vulcan landscape for ten thousand years. Yes, all was peaceful for the moment ... but the future was, as always, uncertain.

 

T'Llaiah, the third daughter of Slevibh, was perched upon the cold, stone, subsellium in the ancestral estate's succulent garden. In her hands was an ornately illuminated scroll of lyric poetry, written by the great poet T'Shvin three-hundred years prior.

 

She was considered an unremarkable woman by those around her. The second daughter of Slebivh's lesser wife, T'Llaiah was the least prominent member of her family. Her physical attractiveness was limited, and her quiet demeanor led others to believe that she was dimwitted. Even her telepathic abilities yielded no special Gifts to the House that could set her apart from the rest of her siblings. As was the custom, T'Llaiah was fated to be bonded to a low-ranking house, most likely to sweeten a trade agreement, or perhaps to end a skirmish over an oasis along two House borders. The ancient Vulcan family caste system did not promote self-bettering, to say the least.

 

The Vulcan woman sat as still as death; her face as emotionless as the stone figures carved into the bench upon which she sat. Had the eastward-traveling zephyr not caught her long mane of fiery red in its palm as it soared through the atmosphere, one might have mistaken her for one of the many pieces of statuary that dotted the landscape.

 

She felt a whisper of someone approaching her position. One more psi-adept might have been able to identify the intruder into what she considered to be her own personal sanctuary from the rest of the world, but to T'Llaiah it would remain a mystery until she could see him.

 

A small Vulcan boy emerged from the mansion, running towards T'Llaiah as if he were being chased by a feral le-matya.

 

Her younger brother; J'Rym. She rose from her seat and gave the child a smile that expressed genuine warmth. "Hello, little one. What pressing matter has torn you from your duties to the House and has brought you into the great outdoors?" she asked with a wry smile, assuming that the boy had neglected his duties in the kitchen and atrium in favor of perhaps being read to by his older sister.

 

He was still gasping for breath from his long run to the garden. "Dearest sister, there's someone to see you."

 

The elder Vulcan sighed, started to walk towards the gate. "Run ahead and show him into the atrium. I'll be along in a moment." She gently smoothed her hair and glanced at her reflection in the small fountain of water. She was presentable enough to entertain a guest until her father returned home from the trade discussion in Shi'Kahr.

 

He shook his head vigorously. "He's not here to meet with your father, T'Llaiah. He's here to meet with you."

 

J'Rym was perhaps her only family member who truly understood T'Llaiah. Even at his tender age, he could read her hopes, aspirations, and most easily, her fears. Thus said, it was with ease that he interpret the pained expression that crossed her face. "I don't think that he wants you for a bondmate, if that's what you're worried about. Although he looks fairly familiar, I haven't seen him recently, and I wouldn't think that he'd dare to be bold enough to discuss marriage without first speaking with your father."

 

She audibly sighed with a small amount of relief, but her heart was still pounding. It would be perfectly in character for her father to simply sign her away without so much as a mention at dinner. She nodded slowly at J'Rym and placed a reassuring hand on the young one's shoulder..

 

"I'll be right there. Tell him to meet me in the atrium."

 

* * *

 

The main entrance to the mansion was customarily darkened to keep light from raising the already disagreeable temperature to an unacceptable height. T'Llaiah entered with a small pitcher of cool water for the guest.

 

He was facing away from her, masked by shadows, saying nothing. As T'Llaiah placed the ur'ceus jug on the small serving table, the stony silence hung between the two of them like a shroud. She stood there for a moment, not quite knowing what to say.

 

After what seemed an eternity, he finally spoke. "Does this House even have so much as a marginally talented dreamer?" He didn't have a contemptuous tone in his voice; more one of curiosity. Regardless, T'Llaiah was a bit perplexed.

 

"A d...dreamer?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

He nodded, a bit exasperated. "One with the gift for having true, prophetic dreams." Her blank expression gave away her ignorance. "Each major House has their own private collection of individuals with telepathic powers ... sensing water ... tracking game ... anticipating battle maneuvers ... long-distance psi communication..."

 

"One of the rarest is the gift of foresight, in dreams. Somehow they can tap into the waves of time itself, seeing vivid imagery in their dreams." He paused, then turned to her, the dim lighting silhouetting aristocratic features and a handsome face. Yes, he did seem familiar, somehow. "I'm one of those rare individuals who can."

 

Her eyebrow raised even higher. "And this means what to me? Are you offering your services to the House of Sartrav?"

 

He shook his head, slowly, perhaps considering what she had said ... T'Llaiah didn't know. "I feel that it's my duty to tell you what I have dreamed about, night after night." He tilted his head to one side, recalling the images that came to him as well as he could.

 

"I see you, seated upon a throne of s'al ivory, robes of the finest silk clothing you. You are the leader of this large, great House. No one would dare oppose you; your leadership is renowned throughout the world for its wisdom and calm decisions. You are the ultimate ruler." He looked at her to gauge her reaction. "There was no mistaking in what I saw, milady."

 

T'Llaiah stared at the man for a moment, then started laughing incessantly. "I've narrowed this down to four possibilities." She stated counting them off on her fingers as she continued her explanation. "Number One, you're some practical joker who's unashamedly decided to ridicule my standing in life. Number Two, this is the result of a crazy man who's convinced himself that he has some mystical telepathic talent. Three, that you've been recruited by one of the other Houses that has become an enemy of mine along the way, your goal being to wreak havoc by causing some sort of 'revolt' by members of the House with a ridiculous scam that I'm not buying. Lastly, and the most preposterous of the four..." She chuckled. "...is that you're being honest, and you do have some incredible power."

 

He nodded slowly again, stepping out of the shadows and into one of the scattered patches of light on the floor. "It's not exactly as if I seem mentally disturbed, does it?" he inquired with a smirk.

 

She looked at him closely, suddenly placing who he was. "You're from the House of Tar'ish, aren't you." She glanced downward, attempting to recall more details. "One of the right-line sons, if I remember correctly."

 

He nodded again in that sly way of his. "You do."

 

"Care to remind me what your name is?" She crossed her arms, slightly annoyed.

 

He shook his head thoughtfully and gazed out of the shaded, tall window into the setting trio of suns comprising the 40 Eridani system. "It's too late for pleasantries, and it can't be discovered that I came here."

 

"Your father doesn't know of your so-called 'abilities'?" she asked, a little surprised.

 

He glanced at her askance. "No. If he even suspected... " His voice trailed off, and T'Llaiah didn't need to ask what he meant. If he perceived that he had some great ability, then he could easily reach the conclusion that his life could be in danger. "I have to leave. They're searching for me."

 

"Go, then. Don't let me stop you," she added with a touch of sarcasm.

 

"Very well. It seems that there is little that I can do to assist you, T'Llaiah." He bowed slightly and turned towards the entrance, before pausing and turning back to her.

 

"For your own sake, consider what I have imparted to you. The dreamers are not a band of the mentally ill... "

 

She responded a little faster than she would have liked, a little more of a clipped answer than was necessary, since, as she reassured herself, there was no truth to this hilariously far-fetched tale. "Or was there... " the nagging suspicion tugged at the back of her mind. "Leave."

 

As he opened the door, flooding the atrium with the still-vibrant embers of the setting sun, the Vulcan woman pondered what he said.

 

Somehow, she had always thought that there must be something more than the existence forged out for her. Something more...

 

Time would tell ... she told herself. Only time would tell...

 

=END LOG=