Turning Point
Written by Faanshi (July 21, 1999)

	"It is not safe for you to stay here, Faanshi -- and I gave my word 
that I would see to your safety."
	Thomas Murako's solemn words did not particularly surprise her. But 
until the man many had begun to call the Mongrel King -- the man who had 
invited her to Arcillium, who had introduced her to a fledgling community where 
men and women looked on one another as equals, and who had been one of the 
first precious friends she had made upon being blessed with deliverance from 
the mad Warlord Hashim -- came to tell her that he wished to send her away, 
Faanshi had never before quite realized what it meant to leave a place one 
thought of as home... or to leave people who had grown dear to her.
	But she could hardly argue. The oncoming winter had been expected, but 
the rise of the renegade Drazhar and his taking of Thomas's Hand, Milane, had 
not. With several sorely needed men and women sent with the Herald StormBearer 
on his search for gold with which to buy what Avalon needed to stand on its 
collective feet, Murako needed everyone under his command to see to the safety 
of his city. He himself was gripped with the urgent priority of recovering the 
lost Milane. Faanshi, who felt more drawn to the Mongrel leader's Hand than she 
had to any woman she had met to date -- including Imphada Kiera -- had no heart 
to try to distract him from duty's call.
	Almighty Khalid Atar himself had a woman for his Shakir; thus it seemed 
right and just that Thomas should emulate the Amir-al and have a woman for his 
Hand. What was the worth of a halfbreed shudra, even one with magic pricking at 
her palms and driving her to venture out into the strange new city to find the 
sick children and ailing elders, when compared with the life of she who served 
as Shakir for all that a different word was given it? What was time spent with 
a lowly servant to unlock the mysteries of writing when balanced against the 
safety of an entire people?
	And how could the fragile wishes of a shudra stand against the 
implacable order of the Hawk of Heaven, which if broken would risk not only her 
present life, but also her next?
	Thus Faanshi submitted to her only possible fate, gathering her meager 
belongings and joining the escort Murako arranged for her. Submission was 
familiar to her; such was the lot of one who had grown up beneath the harsh, 
fierce hand of Hashim. But what was not familiar to her, as she rode in the 
midst of five armed men and women away from Arcillium and south again, was the 
sharp-edged ache that pierced her heart at the thought of what she was 
abandoning.
	Men, women, and children who had never known the touch of a healer's 
hand.
	Milane, in peril, possibly dead. Milane, who seemed to her almost what 
more fortunate women would call a sister.
	StormBearer and his music and his strange, fell companion, trapped in 
the shape of a crow but retaining glimmers of the cognizance of a man.
	Thomas, with his purpose and his passion. Thomas Murako, who had lifted 
himself up from the depths of slavery to become a leader of men. New Moon, 
Mongrel King, the fire that burned at the heart of Avalon and which kindled 
within every soul who joined the infant nation.
	Thomas, commanding and forceful, wise and compassionate. But to her, 
gentle and patient in a way Faanshi had yet to see him use with anyone else. 
She could still feel his hand gripping her own. Not to confine, but to support, 
to uplift, to lend forth his inherent strength.
	Thomas, whose gaze she could barely dare to meet -- though not because 
of the same fears that kept her from looking into the eyes of most men -- and 
whose face remained emblazoned upon her thoughts all the way from Arcillium to 
Haven.
	By necessity, her escort was small. There was Kira, who'd volunteered 
for the trip to be her chaperone and who made up for her middle-aged, 
relatively untrained frame by keeping a stout cudgel near her at all times. 
Daniel and Judith with their bows, and Nine-Fingered Rab with his many knives, 
most of which had been stolen on the streets of Haven... and none other than 
Murako's own second, Gaiden, to lead them.
	Five armed men and women, with seven lightly laden horses, one for 
extra provisions and one to spare, to be her escort. The shudra maiden rode 
with one of the others throughout the journey, for it was swifter than bringing 
along a wagon, even if Kosha had to ride in a basket lashed to a horse's side. 
Travelling thus, however, served only to remind her of the journey to Arcillium 
-- and who she'd ridden behind then. Each day of the journey brought with it a 
new reminder, from the deferential way the younger fighters called her Miss 
Faanshi no matter how hard she tried to dissuade them, to the comment 
Nine-Fingered Rab offered her along with one of his smallest knives -- "Master 
Thomas'd prefer it if we helped you be at least a little safe turning you loose 
again in that big city, I'm sure" -- to the gruff thanks Gaiden came to give 
her in private for her having healed his leader.
	"I never did have the chance to thank you properly, Miss Faanshi. He'd 
never have asked you for help himself, y'know."
	Memory of that one healing, of Thomas Murako's damaged flesh mending 
beneath her fingers, stayed with her until their small party reached the gates 
of Haven. And what she'd felt when she did it, the beginnings of something like 
the light of determination she saw in the dark eyes of a single Mongrel man, 
compelled her to ask her escorts to leave her before they entered the city... 
and to turn to them, a hand lifted for their attention, before they could ride 
away.
	Five armed Mongrel men and women wore equal expressions of astonishment 
as a slim, shaking hand reached up to lower the silken veil that concealed the 
lower half of the healer's face. Green eyes beneath feathery black brows were 
joined by a nose and mouth delicately drawn in the sun-golden visage, too small 
in comparison with those large luminous eyes.  Cheekbones seemingly sculpted 
from something more fragile than the stone-stuff from which were hewn the 
Children of Fire gave her face an almost lupine, alien cast, a touch of Other.
	_Great sun, that's what she looks like_--
	"Faanshi, lass, are you sure you're supposed to--"
	_I know that face! The colors are wrong, but I know--_
	_Milane. She looks like Milane!_
	"Hurry back," she begged them all, clutching her bag to her while her 
dog huddled plaintively at her feet. She met their gazes square on for the 
first time any of them could remember, that small mouth of hers drawn into a 
stoic line, her eyes full of a painful shyness blended with the first tiny 
sparks of something that might almost be called resolve. "Help find the 
Hand... and the evil ones who captured her. Kira..."
	The Mongrel matron, her eyes very full, smiled awkwardly down at her 
from her place on her horse. "Aye, Miss Faanshi?"
	"Tell Milane, when she comes back safely" -- for Thomas would, the 
shudra swore to herself, have his Hand back; there was no other option -- "tell 
her... I hope to see her again. Please?"
	"Of course, lass... of course..."
	As though someone had made her swallow an earth-mage and in his anger 
he was trying to shape his way free, a stone seemed to grow in her throat as 
she turned to Murako's second. "Gaiden... please tell Imphadi StormBearer that 
I... wish I could have had... more time to learn from him of his people... and 
Gaiden..." Patiently, the commander waited until she was able to finish, to 
find words adequate to convey what had haunted her throughout the journey. What 
she finally managed -- "Tell Thomas... I think of him" -- seemed woefully 
insufficient, for all that it was the truth.
	She was far from experienced at reading the expressions in the faces of 
men, but it seemed to Faanshi that Gaiden's eyes lightened ever so slightly, 
and he inclined his head to her in respectful acknowledgement. "I will, lass," 
he promised, almost gently.
	Faanshi begged them all to go, then, and thus they went, with a single 
shudra halfbreed and the puppy at her feet to watch them ride off and vanish up 
the northward road down which they'd brought her. Only when they were out of 
sight did Faanshi turn at last to face the gates of the city. Rab's knife made 
a strangely comforting weight beneath her sari where she could reach it, but 
where no man's eye could easily discern its presence. Kosha, the ever-loyal 
Kosha, was ready to follow her wherever she might choose to go. And within her, 
frail but showing signs of blossoming strength, was the ember which Thomas had 
kindled in her heart.
	She returned the veil to its proper place... but beneath it, ever so 
slightly, she was smiling. And above it, her gaze grew ever so slightly 
sharper, ever so slightly more intent.
	She still owed her soul and life to the Khalid Atar, and her service to 
Kiera Khalida, his daughter of the heart... but she owed that little ember, and 
the courage it gave her to walk into Haven to not only face her fate but begin 
to change it, to Thomas Murako.

Fini.