Chương 52: Chapter 44 ~ Tsininokha (Act Four)

15/11/1111 EotTS 22: 48 The curtains parted, for what, according to the program, would be the final time, and revealed the stage for the fourth act. The ocean background, with its blue-green sea, had returned, but it was now daytime, with fluffy clouds decorating the sky and covering a corner of the sun.

A prop boat, far too small to ever sail, sat on stage right, with the single linen sail of its lone mast drawn up and tied high above the deck, which was nearly empty save for the Devotees from the first act, who were slowly lowering the gangplank. In center stage, stood Tsininokha and Pyrletox; Tsininokha was dressed in the garb from the previous acts, with the long robe of velvet, feathers, and shells, draped over her shoulders.

One by one, a trail of women began to emerge from stage left; each clad in a simple white sun-dress with puffy white shoulders—has that dress been brought with, packed away in the trunk? the green one with the puffy shoulders? it will be excellent to have as it gets hotter, it is likely very humid in Thoranyn during Hahmehlyn's reign—and in their hands they each held a burlap sack, a small one, not too large, but filled with gold and gems, easily enough to last them many a moon.

One by one, they all bowed to Tsininokha, and even a few offered some form of thanks, before heading off to the ship:"I give a thousand thanks, Priestess, with kindness you have treated us."

"Granting this parting gift of gems, now we too shall have golden hems."

"Oh, finally I am leaving, my family will stop grieving."

"Now, Father will have his new ship; truly, this was a worthwhile trip."

"Like you, I wish I was so wise, you saw through the gem, to the prize."

"I cannot say I envy you, but you have done what few could do."

"I agree, these gifts made me blind, but, oh, they give me peace of mind."

"I shall now go back to mother; she will be proud, chide my brothers."

"I hope you always find joy here, in the birds, sun, ocean, and pier."

"Farewell, priestess, you are lucky, enjoy the finest of honey."

"Yes, and the sweetest of red wine, in goblets of crystal, which shine."

"And a bite upon every cast, I must hurry, look at the mast!" The sail was untied, and it flowed down, covering the mast, leaving only its silhouette visible through the off-white linen. Pyrletox, raising an arm, offered a wave to the women and the devotees upon the ship; Tsininokha raised an arm as well, but before she could wave, the curtains drew shut. Gysel checked her watch: twenty-two seventy; the play would have been faster if they did not take so much time between acts.

Once the curtains fell on Act Four, the lights bloomed, and the crowd erupted in a frantic, disorganized clapping. In one big line, hand in hand, the main cast stepped in front of the curtain and bowed. The applause lasted for about a minute after the actors had departed, and the moment silence fell, Wyohla took the two bottles of wine from the bottom of the bucket, replacing them with a single half-king; the more-than-generous tip clinked against the ice and sank down to the bottom.

"Come on, Gysel," said Wyohla, "Grab my program for me, and let's get going."

"Is there not anything after this?" asked Gysel.

"Just a couple hundred people in that tiny lobby trying to get out. If we don't get going now, I'll probably lose you in that crowd, and you won't be back in time." Gysel hurriedly stood; there were few things worse than being crammed into a small area with large numbers of people, especially when one was wearing a new dress and had a schedule to keep. Taking both the programs and clutching them to her chest, Gysel followed Wyohla past the curtains and the attendant, to whom she offered a small smile.

Despite Wyohla's attempt to rush, a crowd had already begun to form in the lobby, but luckily enough, it seemed to mostly be people from the boxes descending the stairs, as all were far too well dressed to be simple city-folk leaving the balcony, and they all probably wished for the same thing as Wyohla: not to get caught in close confines with the questionably clean mass.

The sounds of clambering, calling, and post-play spoilers filled the lobby, but none of the noise was coming from the finer-dressed people; instead, it was echoing out of the small hallway leading to the floor seating, and there was some severe congestion occurring from within its walls.

"I should have just taken that bucket," grumbled Wyohla, as she slowly took the stairs, watching her footing.

"Why?" asked Gysel.

"Are you going to engage in emesis?" One person on the stairs stepped away from Wyohla; he was an older man with a grey mustache and thick glasses, and he pulled his wife away as well.

"Am I going to engage in what?"

"Emesis. Are you going to vomit?" Wyohla dropped off the last step and began weaving in and out of the people loitering and talking in the small lobby, but due to her height, she was impossible to lose, as no other woman came close to her.

"Certainly not; I can hold my wine," she said, "I just wanted the free hand to hold the railing, and drag you along behind me so I don't lose you." Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"Oh," answered Gysel, only one Wyohla-sized step, or two Gysel-sized steps behind Wyohla, "That is not necessary. I can see you fine. You are hard to miss."

"Good." Wyohla stepped free of the growing din in the lobby, crossing the threshold of the doors back into cold night air.

"So, what did you think, Gysel?"

"I liked it," answered Gysel, as she followed down the stone steps.

"It was nice going to a play. Even if you lied to me and told me we would not be in the boxes." The night was clear, with the foggy remnants of Aeska's whispers being nothing more than thin wisps around distant streetlights. Gysel looked up as she walked, watching the stars twinkle among the light of the three for the first time since arriving.

"Each one of these bottles cost me more than both of our seats." Holding the two wine bottles in the air, Wyohla swished them back and forth, seemingly inspecting the fluid within as it stained the orange of the streetlamps, and the blue of the moons.

"So, don't worry about it." Gysel pulled her coat shut and held the two programs close to her chest, while she struggled to keep up with Wyohla, who either wanted to see Lyma back at the dorms, or wanted to lounge in her cold silver bath, and finish off that bottle: the answer was likely the latter.

"Well, what did you think the lesson of the play was?" asked Wyohla. Gysel's lips pursed; what was lesson? it could not be something along the lines of curiosity being deadly, as it clearly was not, since in the end Tsininokha became the priestess and kept all her riches, so what would be left?

just the interaction between Tsininokha and the gems, just the test, and to pass the test, one had to break the enchantment of the gold and gems, whether by jealousy or will: the lesson of the play was that those who reject immediate material comforts would be rewarded with the truth.

"The lesson is to practice asceticism as it will lead you to the truth," answered Gysel.

"Well... Hmm, actually, let's wait until we get back. We can discuss it with Lyma."

"She said she did not remember Tsininokha."

"I'm sure if we tell her the plot, she will know exactly what it is about." At the edge of the park, Wyohla took a left, instead of going straight, where the academy bell tower could be seen in the distance.

"Where are you going? The Academy is that way," said Gysel.

"I want a snack," Wyohla answered, as she slowed her pace, turned, and walked backwards.

"And I told you that the Theater had dessert, but we both seemed to have forgotten, so this is dessert."

"I have to be back by half past the twenty-fourth hour."

"Well, I know that, Gysel, and you still have nearly an hour and a half. So unless you intend on crawling the whole way back to the Academy, you have more than enough time to come get a snack with me." After giving her watch a glance, Gysel hurried after Wyohla; there was enough time to get a snack, particularly a free snack.

"I would like to eat back at the Academy."

"That's fine. I don't think they have any indoor seating anyway."

"Where are we going?" Gysel asked, as she watched the darkened shops pass: most had light leaking from the windows of the rooms above, but all the storefronts were closed, save for a single one at the far end of the street.

"There." To the lone open store, with light leaking through the glass and drawn curtain of its door, Wyohla pointed with a wine bottle.

"What do they sell?"

"Pastries. You get a deal if you go before they close because they don't want to waste the food."

"Why do you suddenly care about getting a deal?"

"Well, if I can get a dozen donuts for the cost of a half-dozen, I'm going to get the dozen donuts." Grasping the wooden door by its wrought iron handle, Wyohla pushed the door open, and the warm orange light from inside split out as a long line down the road, slowly growing in width. There was the high chime of the bell, and Gysel sniffed; the strong scent of spiced pumpkin, sweet pastries, and seasonal pies flooded her nose, and she followed Wyohla inside.

The inside of the store was cramped, offering only enough room for people to line up and order at the walnut counter, then wait, then leave; but since there was nobody else there, it was simply just the cozy little store-front of a family owned bakery, where the scents of treats long past took refuge in the fabric of the three chairs along the left wall—are seating for waiting and seating for dining the same? —, just beneath a brass sconce, with a butter-tart shaped glass cup.

Wyohla strode across the matte tiles of cream and gold, and to the display, looking over the selection, and giving a snicker at the sign upon the display.

Drawn upon a wooden chalk-easel which sat atop the display, was Morzivayn, dressed in her traditional dress with its puffy, orange, pumpkin-like skirt—why is she smiling in this illustration, this seems unlike her, she is said to be very taciturn, somber, and even regularly depressed, certainly not smiling, it is probably a poor marketing strategy to depict Morzivayn as depressed, one would think using the traditional likeness of a deity for marketing would also be a rather poor strategy—, and in her hand, she held a brown ring.

Written above her was: 'Pumpkin Donuts!'; and below, in smaller letters was: 'From the start of the Harvest-Season, to whenever we run out!' Behind the display stood a plump woman, in a dirtied off-white apron covered in flour, sugar, pumpkin offal, and bits of crusted dough.

Wire baskets with orange and brown striped cloth linings clicked as she stacked them on the table behind her; she worked quickly as she consolidated all the leftover treats into one basket, save for the donuts, which got their own basket, but had been piled so high, they were in desperate need of another, or perhaps a shipping barrel. Stopping, she slid the half-empty basket back into the display and smiled.

"Hello," said the woman as she leaned on the counter.

"Are you two coming back from the play?"

"We are," answered Wyohla, "you will probably be seeing more like us shortly."

"I hope so, my daughter made a few too many of our pumpkin donuts. If you aren't looking for anything specific, I'll give you a dozen and a half, for the price of a dozen, including the end-of-day sale."

"Sure! Yes! Fine by me. How much?" Wyohla began digging in her handbag.

"Is half-filled fine? Nine of each?" asked the baker, as she opened up a large, stiff, plain paper box.

"Definitely. What are they filled with?"

"Custard."

"Excellent," said Wyohla, offering a nod as well, clearly satisfied.

"Hold one of these, Gysel." She extended a wine bottle to Gysel. Tucking the programs under her arm, Gysel took the bottle by the neck. Placing the donuts on their edges, the baker filled the box, then set it atop the display.

"Just a New Moon." Wyohla produced the half-silver piece and handed it to the baker. With a creak, a drawer behind the counter opened, and the coin fell with a click.

"Do you need change?" the baker asked.

"No, just the donuts," said Wyohla, as she plucked the box from the counter and started for the door.

"Have a great rest of the evening. Gysel, can you get the door for me?"

"You as well," said the baker. Gysel smiled at the baker and waved with the bottle; the baker returned the gesture. Then Gysel opened the door for Wyohla, and the two departed, heading back to the Academy to show Lyma the spoils.