Chapter 4: The Dawning

Janurana and Dhanur have breakfast.

***

The sting of the sun’s rays pierced Dhanur’s bloodshot eyes. She peeled them open and rolled out of bed. Her armor hung loosely from her as she had only undone half the knots of the leather. Then her head throbbed. She had more to drink than normal the night before and her armor made sleep less than great. However, she was no stranger to hard marches with little food and sleeping in the rough so she shoved the pain aside. Dhanur removed all her armor, placing it with care in its trunk at the foot of her bed, right beside the polish and oil. As she yanked off her hood, her red hair poofed into a mangled bedhead shape she just didn’t have the will to comb yet, instead raking her fingers through it and splashing her face with the water from her saucer. She took off her scaled tunic and glanced out the window into the blinding morning, over the two and one-story buildings, past the great walls, beyond the Borderlands between the north and south, and at the northern horizon decorated with a single, lonely mountain. 

‘You should really go there soon,’ her inner voice said.

Dhanur pursed her lips and sighed. Rolling her neck, she stayed in the morning light and mimed drawing her bow, slowly breathing with each draw and release. She continued her routine, stretching, drawing in all her battle positions, and ending with climbing out of her window to bow to the Light above. When she finished, she noticed a speck of dirt on her curtain, which she promptly picked off.

Janurana had already begun a soup breakfast for her host. She had simply thrown ingredients into the pot with no preparation, the peas and lentils floating alongside the flour she had poured in to thicken it, but the bowls sat ready and the fire was adequate. 

Dhanur was confused for a moment, staring at the stranger dancing in her kitchen, but the memories of last night returned and she pressed the heel of her hand into her forehead. She took special notice of Janurana avoiding the boxes of sunlight entering through the windows, poking her tongue out as she danced.

Before she could notice Janurana caught her mid spin. Despite Dhanur’s complaining, she was ushered to the table to wait for breakfast.

“Good morning, madam warrior!” Janurana exclaimed with the brightest tone she could muster. “I thought after your invaluable assistance last night, the least payment I could offer is a hot breakfast. Thank you again for allowing me to rest here!”

“What?” Dhanur found it much easier to process her guest’s accent after sleeping. Janurana put much more emphasis on the harder sounds, nearly popping them with her tongue. “Oh. Yeah, sure.” Dhanur looked to her clean boot drying by the fire she had stamped out. Janurana’s smile widened and she motioned to the pillow next to Dhanur’s central table.

“So, uh, what’re you doin’ in the Capital?” Dhanur asked as she sat down and twisted to pop her back.

“Oh… I don’t know.” Janurana swayed her hips in time with the stirring of her soup. A smile graced her lips as she shrugged. “I’ve been Outside for some time so I figured I’d come in.”

“That’s it?” Dhanur’s curiosity morphed to disbelief. She felt her cheeks heat up as she watched Janurana’s hips.

“Mmhmm.”

“Then,” Dhanur shifted on her pillow. “You live Outside?”

“Well, yes. Now I do. Does that scare you, eh?” She spun to waggle her fingers, her smile stretching into a coy grin.

“How the Dark did you survive out there?”

“I survived in much the same way you would have. Avoid the creatures, um,” Janurana remembered the bonfires around the walls. “Made fires.”

“Were you out there during the Scorching?”

“I’m sorry?” Janurana’s eyes widened as she realized what Dhanur must be talking about. “Was that the name for those fires?”

“Yeah, during the war.”

“Oh, was that what that man spoke of last night?” Janurana turned to stir her soup.

“How long’ve you been out there? The scorching was only a few years ago.”

“A time. Years by now.” Janurana was no longer swaying her hips playfully and instead started humming.

Dhanur finally noticed Janurana had entered the Inn alone. “Didn’t ya have anyone else with you?”

Janurana bumped the stirring stick against the pot. “What?!” she yelled as though her artificial noise was that loud.

 Dhanur took the hint and dropped the question with a combination of morning apathy and annoyance. 

‘You wouldn’t wanna talk about the bad things you had to do to survive, right?’ Dhanur’s inner voice said.

“Your accent,” Dhanur said with a raised voice, as though that was what she first asked. “You really don’t look like you’re from around here. How far south are you from?”

“Oh, I’m not sure.” Janurana spun on her heel to pluck the bowl from the table, into which she poured Dhanur’s soup.

Dhanur recoiled as her guest spun again, keeping the soup from spilling, and plopping it onto the table. “Why are you so peppy?”

Janurana smiled sweetly and shrugged. “I slept in a bed! It’s been so long since I had that small comfort.” Dhanur stared for a beat too long and Janurana held the stick behind her back, her smile twitching nervously. Janurana gave a single slow blink as Dhanur rolled her eyes, then she pointed at the bow laying on the ground by the door. “Where’d you get that?”

“Oh. Dark. Right.” 

Dhanur rose from her pillows. She hooked her leg through the string and bent the bow back over her thigh, allowing the string to go slack so she could remove it. Her form was immaculate and perfectly rehearsed and Dhanur placed it against the door with care. Janurana couldn’t help but notice how her drawing arm flexed inches higher than her left in the morning rays.

“Gotta, ya know, do that or it gets worn out.”

“Mm, but where’d you get it? It’s so beautiful!” she pressed.

“My Abba and I made it.” Dhanur plopped back onto her pillow.

“Excuse me?” Janurana’s jaw dropped as she sat next to her host. 

Dhanur smiled, almost exposing her teeth. “I mean, I put the bone over it myself when I got older but yeah. It’s just sinew and wood and Kalia bone.”

“But how?” Janurana leaned forward, enthralled.

“It’s not really hard. Stick the bone in vinegar, I think. I don’t really remember. Then boil it until it’s soft. Then bend it around the rest of the bow and let it dry. Aren’t you gonna eat?”

“I’m fine.” Janurana waved her off.

“What did you eat?” Dhanur looked about for what bowl she may have used.

“You’re supposed to taste your food when you cook,” she giggled. “I nibbled while you slept. You were snoring quite loudly.” 

 Dhanur flinched at the laugh, blushed, and put her head into her hands. With a sigh, she dragged the tips of her fingers along her forehead. “Look, can you, just, calm down? For now?”

“What?” Janurana was taken aback. Her smile wavered as she leaned away from Dhanur to sit upright creating space between them.

“Just stop with the, the,” she waved her hands in lack of a fitting descriptor, “peppiness? I just woke up.”

Janurana’s smile collapsed. Rigid and methodical, she rose to perform a perfectly rehearsed bow. “My apologies. I wished only to brighten your day and thank you for your hospitality,” her voice shook. 

Dhanur sighed. Instead of returning the bow, she took a sip to hide her embarrassment.

 Janurana remained in her bow, unwilling to rise to meet the new mood. 

Dhanur sucked in her lips, and she looked away from the depressing sight.

“So, why are you really here?” she asked, trying her best to soften her tone and sipped her soup again. 

“I’m sorry?” Janurana lifted her head.

“Here.” Dhanur kept herself from waving her arms to indicate everything around her, lest she spill her breakfast. “Inside, the Capital, my house.”

“I believe I told you, I wanted to come Inside again. I’ve… been Outside for a long time. Is that not enough?” Janurana stood up, avoiding her gaze. 

Dhanur grumbled. She searched for a new way to ask her question, gritting her teeth. “What brought you to Daksin’s Capital?”

Blinking, Janurana turned her head, tapping it, and whispered to herself. “Right, right. That’s what the south is called now.” 

“You saying something?” Dhanur asked.

Janurana cradled her arms for lack of her parasol which she left tucked into bed. “That’s quite personal. There’s a lot of space to explore and people to meet here.” She paused. “It’s where everyone comes when they’re old enough, isn’t it?” She looked up and around, thinking of what to say as she stroked the patch on her hip. 

Dhanur focused her gaze, scanning Janurana’s sari. Their eyes met, but both refused to back down. Dhanur’s tone wavered, almost as if she expected a violent reaction, but she tried to stay solid and said, “You didn’t answer my question from before, about having other people.”

“Mmnn.”

The thoughts from the inn ran through Dhanur’s mind. Janurana clearly wasn’t in favor anymore. Living Outside wasn’t something just anyone could do, and she clearly wasn’t a warrior or experienced caravan guard.

“Look, sorry to pry but, why were you Outside? That just ain’t normal. Why aren’t you one of them anymore? A noble?” Dhanur leaned forward.

“Mm.” Janurana opened then closed her mouth, she sucked her teeth and picked at her cuticles. “It’s personal. The walls,” Janurana blurted out. “They’re quite strong, yes?”

Dhanur leaned back, she spoke with a warrior’s precision. “They’re thick enough to withstand the Scorching. All four of the gates can be barred against a ram. The levies have been sent back home. Some stayed on as guards but there are still plenty of warriors to repel an assault. Doubt even an army of spirits could batter through at this point.”

Janurana sighed, but didn’t relax either.

Dhanur stroked her lips and chin, eyeing her guest almost aggressively. Janurana locked her gaze at the ground. 

Her sari was ravaged, but Dhanur knew anyone could fake that with dirt and a knife. Parts were also bleached by the sun. That would have taken time and Dhanur hadn’t seen anyone do that on purpose. 

As Dhanur stared, she had to admit that if Janurana was a gwomoni agent sent to kill her, Janurana could have done so last night while she slept. She mentally grimaced at how easily Janurana could have done that. But no one did away with her yet and if the gwomoni did want her dead, she knew they wouldn’t have sent someone who’d stumble into the inn like an idiot. Dhanur couldn’t see an ounce of malevolence in her guest’s eyes even while Janurana stared at the floor. But she wouldn’t relent. Dhanur just stared, waiting for a response. 

Janurana sighed. 

“Another house,” she said. “Or family, clan, whatever you want to call them. They captured my family and our land.” Janurana’s tone hardened, she shook with both rage and sadness. “I fled.”

Dhanur leaned back taking another sip. Dhanur had seen plenty of hardened warriors fail at surviving Outside trying to escort nobles like Janurana. Her suspicious stare faded as her breakfast’s warmth spread through her. She had seen other nobles who were more than capable of holding their own in battle, even if they didn’t look so.

‘Most of them were gwomoni,’ Dhanur thought.

‘Not Aarushi,’ her inner voice shot back. 

Janurana shuffled in place and it sent a pang of guilt through Dhanur. The young woman could have chipped a tooth with how hard she was clenching her teeth. 

“I’m sorry,” Dhanur said. “That’s happened a lot before the war, I heard. Raiding houses and fighting each other. Been a while since one fully overthrew the other. But with the war and all up here guess there hasn’t been much word from the far south.” She nodded to Janurana’s fairer skin.

“Thank you.” Janurana bowed.

“How did you survive Outside?” Dhanur asked, her tone moderate, as if it was a more casual line of questioning to move on to. “You must be pretty tough, heh.”

Janurana sighed, wringing her hands on the stirring stick as she still refused to meet Dhanur’s gaze. “I slept in holes, climbed up trees.” She paused. “I ate dirt to make the pain go away when I was hungry.” At that, Dhanur winced. “I didn’t throw up after the first few times.”

“How long were you out there?” Dhanur ignored or missed her meek tone.

“I’ve forgotten.”

“Ya don’t seem like you’ve been alone Outside for long.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Y’know.” Dhanur motioned to the fire.

 Janurana glanced away and back.

“Scorched. Dead. Or even crazy from being alone.” 

“I had-” Janurana choked at the last word. She dropped the stick and grabbed at her hip patch. “Others. Friends. Before.”

‘This young noble woman really does look like Aarushi,’ Dhanur’s inner voice butted in once more. 

Dhanur shook her head at herself. “She kinda does,” she accidentally said aloud.

“What?” Janurana looked up.

“No, not you. Sorry. It’s just, with you acting all peppy like and the morning and you…” She sighed to start over. “Take some time, rest. Whatever it is you wanna do.”

Janurana bowed. “If that is your wish, madam warrior.”

“I’m not a-” Dhanur sighed again and lowered her voice. “Your soup is good.”

Janurana raised her head in surprise, smiling at the compliment as Dhanur looked away, continuing to drink from the bowl. She took her father’s old advice and decided to quit with a win.

“Madam warri-Dhanur.” She bowed at her mistake. “I am quite honored you enjoy my gift to you. Is there another way I could repay you for your kindness?”

“Uh,” Dhanur took another sip of the soup, trying to think of how to respond. “No, Ma’am? You’re fine.”

 “If I may, I was unable to ask your permission last night to use your tub. Having spent so much time Outside, I would consider myself desperate.” Janurana smartly switched to a new subject.

Dhanur blinked. “Yeah. ‘Course. Don’t gotta ask just to sit in some water.”

Janurana sighed in relief, already feeling the dirt sliding off her. “Thank you so much.” She crossed her hands on the table and bowed to touch her forehead to them.

Dhanur nodded back at the cotton flap under the stairs. As Janurana entered the dim washroom, she leaned against the mudbrick, releasing a shaky breath. She almost wanted to cry, the conversation and the prospect of a proper wash were almost too much. She removed and tenderly folded her clothes, then traced her fingers over the patches. The rainbow of patches consisting of white cotton, stained Light Ascetic robes, rough brown fabric, she sighed as each one brought either a flash of what had caused her sari to tear or made her smack against the black void of a memory she didn’t want to recall. But for the time being, every tiger, wolf, imp, vetala corpse puppeteer, they were all behind the city walls. Janurana gingerly picked up the water urn to fill the tub, but only halfway. She left the rest for her clothes, she didn’t want to push her luck by asking for more water to wash them.

Author's Note

We hope you have a nice day.