corthu : (cohr-thoo)—one being
dester‘edre: (destair ay-dhray)—wind(born) sibling
dhon: (dthohn)—very much
du‘dera: (doo dearah)—(I) give (you) comfort
for‘shava: (fohr shahvah)—very, very good
get‘ke: (get kay)—(could you) explain
gestena: (gestaynah)—thank you
hai: (hi)—yes
hai shala: (hi shahlah)—do you understand?
hai‘she’li: (hi she lee)—surprised “yes,” literally “yes, I swear!”
hai‘vetha: (hi vethah)—yes, (be) running
her‘y: (hear ee)—(is this not) the truth
isda: (eesdah)—have you (ever) seen (such)
jel‘enedra: (jel enaydrah)—little sister
jel’ sutho’ edrin: (jel soothoh aydthrin)—“forever younger siblings,” usually refers to horses
jostumal: (johstoomahl)—enemy, literally, “one desiring (your) blood”
kadessa: (kahdessah)—rodent of the Dhorisha Plains
Kal‘enedral: (kahlenaydhrahl)—Her sword-brothers or Her swordchildren
Kal‘enel: (kahl enel)—the Warrior aspect of the four-faced Goddess, literally, “Sword of the Stars.” Also called Enelve’astre (Star-Eyed) and Da‘gretha (Warrior).
kathal: (kahthahl)—go gently
kele: (kaylay)—(go) onward
kestra: (kestrah)—a casual friend
krethes: (kraythes)—speculation
kulath: (koolahth)—go find
leshya‘e: (layshee-ah ee)—spirit; not a vengeful, earthbound ghost, but a helpful spirit
Liha‘irden: (leehah eardhren)—deer-footed
li‘ha’eer: (lee hah eeahr)—exclamation, literally, “by the gods”
li‘sa’eer: (lee sah eeahr)—exclamation of extreme surprise, literally “by the highest gods!”
nes: (nes)—bad
nos: (nohs)—it is
pretera: (praytearah)—grasscat
sadullos: (sahdoolohs)—safer
se: (sy)—is/are
she‘chorne: (shay chornah)—homosexual; does not have negative connotations among the Shin’a‘in.
she‘enedra: (shay enaydrah)—sister by blood-oathing
sheka: (shaykah)—horse droppings
shena: (shaynah)—of the Clan, literally ‘of the brotherhood’
shesti: (shestee)—nonsense
Shin‘a’in: (shin ay in)—the people of the plains
so‘trekoth: (soh traykoth)—fool who will believe anything, literally, “gape-mouthed hatchling”
staven: (stahven)—water
Tale‘edras: (tahle aydhrahs)—Hawkbrothers, a race who may or may not be related to the Shin’a‘in, living in the Pelagiris Forest
Tale‘sedrin: (tahle saydhrin)—children of the hawk
te‘sorthene: (tay sohrthayne)—heart-friend, spirit-friend
Vai datha: (vi dahthah)—expression of resignation or agreement, literally “there are many ways.”
var‘athanda: (vahr ahthahndah)—to be forgetful of
ves‘tacha: (ves tahchah)—beloved one
vysaka: (visahkah)—the spiritual bond between the Kal‘enedral and the Warrior; its presence can actually be detected by an Adept, another Kalen- edral, and the Kal’enedral him/herself. It is this bond which creates the “shielding” that makes Kal‘enedral celibate/neuter and somewhat immune to magic.
vyusher: (vi-ooshear)—wolf
yai: (yi)—two
yuthi‘so’coro: (yoothee soh cohr-oh)—road courtesy; the rules Shin‘a’in follow when traveling on a public road.
Appendix Two
Songs and Poems
SUFFER THE CHILDREN
(Tarma: Oathbreakers)
These are the hands that wield a sword
With trained and practiced skill;
These are the hands, and this the mind,
Both honed and backed by will.
Death is my partner, blood my trade,
And war my passion wild—
But these are the hands that also ache
To hold a tiny child.
CH: Suffer, they suffer, the children,
When I see them, gods, how my heart breaks!
It is ever and always the children
Who will pay for their parents’ mistakes.
Somehow they know that I’m a friend—
I see it in their eyes,
Somehow they sense a kindly heart—
So young, so very wise.
Mine are the hands that maim and kill—
But children never care.
They only know my hands are strong
And comfort is found there.
Little enough that I can do
To shield the young from pain—
Not while their parents fight and die
For land, or goods, or gain.
All I can do is give them love—
All I can do is strive
To teach them enough of my poor skill
To help them stay alive.
OATHBREAKERS
CH: Cursed Oathbreakers, your honor’s in pawn
And worthless the vows you have made—
Justice shall see you where others have gone,
Delivered to those you betrayed!
These are the signs of a mage that’s forsworn—
The True Gifts gone dead in his hand,
Magic corrupted and discipline torn,
Shifting heart like shifting sand;
Swift to allow any passion to run,
Given to hatred and rage.
Give him wide berth and his company shun—
For darkness devours the Dark Mage.
These are the signs of a traitor in war—
Wealth from no visible source,
Shunning old comrades he welcomed before,
Holding to no steady course.
If you uncover the one who’d betray,
Heed not his words nor his pen.
Give him no second chance—drive him away—
False once will prove false again.
These are the signs of the treacherous priest—
Pleasure in anyone’s pain,
Abuse or degrading of man or of beast,
Duty as second to gain,
Preaching belief but with none of his own,
Twisting all that he controls.
Fear him and never face him all alone,
He corrupts innocent souls.
These are the signs of the king honor-broke—
Pride coming first over all,
Treading the backs and the necks of his folk
That he alone might stand tall,
Giving himself to desires that are base,
Tyrannous, cunning, and cruel.
Bring him down—set someone else in his place.
Such men are not fit to rule.
ADVICE TO YOUNG MAGICIANS
(Kethry)
The firebird knows your anger
And the firebird feels your fear,
For your passions will attract her
And your feelings draw her near.
But the negative emotions
Only make her flame and fly.
You must rule your heart, magician,
Or by her bright wings you die.
Now the cold-drake lives in silence
And he feeds on dark despair
Where the shadows fall the bleakest
You will find the cold-drake there.
For he seeks to chill your spirit
And to lure you down to death.
Learn to rule your soul, magician,
Ere you dare the cold-drake’s breath.
And the griffon is a proud beast
He’s the master of the sky.
And no one forgets the sight
Who has seen the griffon fly.
But his will is formed in magic
And not mortal flesh and bone
And if you would rule the griffon
You must first control your own.
The kyree is a creature
With a soul both old and wise
You must never think to fool him
For he sees through all disguise.
If you seek to call a kyree
All your secrets he shall plumb—
So be certain you are worthy
Or the kyree—will not come.
For your own heart you must conquer
If the firebird you would call
You must know the dark within you
Ere you seek the cold-drake’s hall
Here is better rede, magician
Than those books upon your shelf—
If you seek to master others
You must master first yourself.
OATHBOUND
(The Oathbound, Tarma & Kethry)
CH: Bonds of blood and bonds of steel
Bonds of god-fire and of need,
Bonds that only we two feel
Bonds of word and bonds of deed,
Bonds we took—and knew the cost
Bonds we swore without mistake
Bonds that give more than we lost,
Bonds that grant more than they take.
Tarma:
Kal‘enedral, Sword-Sworn, I,
To my Star-Eyed Goddess bound,
With my pledge would vengeance buy
But far more than vengeance found.
Now with steel and iron will
Serve my Lady and my Clan
All my pleasure in my skill—
Nevermore with any man.
Kethry:
Bound am I by my own will
Never to misuse my power—
Never to pervert my skill
To the pleasures of an hour.
With this blade that I now wear
Came another bond indeed—
While her arcane gifts I share
I am bound to woman’s Need.
Tarma:
And by blood-oath we are bound
Held by more than mortal bands
For the vow we swore was crowned
By god-fires upon our hands.
Kethry:
You are more than shield-sib now
We are bound, and yet are free
So I make one final vow—
That your Clan shall live through me.
ADVICE TO WOULD-BE HEROES
(Tarma)
So you want to go earning your keep with your
sword
And you think it cannot be too hard—
And you dream of becoming a hero or lord
With your praises sung out by some bard.
Well now, let me then venture to give you advice
And when all of my lecture is done
We will see if my words have not made you
think twice
About whether adventuring’s “fun!”
Now before you seek shelter or food for yourself
Go seek first for those things for your beast
For he is worth far more than praises or pelf
Though a fool thinks to value him least.
If you’ve ever a moment at leisure to spare
Then devote it, as if to your god,
To his grooming, and practice, and weapons-repair
And to seeing you both are well-shod.
Eat you lightly and sparingly—never fuh-fed-
For a full belly founders your mind.
Ah, but sleep when you can—it is better than
bread—
For on night-watch no rest will you find.
Do not boast of your skill, for there’s always one
more
Who would prove he is better than you.
Treat swordladies like sisters, and not like a whore
Or your wenching days, child, will be few.
When you look for a captain, then look for the man
Who thinks first of his men and their beasts,
And who listens to scouts, and has more than
one plan,
And heeds not overmuch to the priests.
And if you become captain, when choosing your
men
Do not look at the “heroes” at all.
For a hero dies young—rather choose yourself ten
Or a dozen whose pride’s not so tall.
Now your Swordmaster’s god—whosoever he be—
When he stands there before you to teach
And don’t argue or whine, think to mock foolishly
Or you’ll soon be consulting a leech!
Now most booty is taken by generals and kings
And there’s little that’s left for the low
So it’s best that you learn skills, or work at odd
things
To keep food in your mouth as you go.
And last, if you should chance to reach equal my
years
You must find you a new kind of trade
For the plea that you’re still spry will fall on
deaf ears—
There’s no work for old swords, I’m afraid.
Now if all that I’ve told you has not changed
your mind
Then I’ll teach you as best as I can.
For you’re stubborn, like me, and like me of the
kind
Becomes one fine swords-woman or -man!
THE PRICE OF COMMAND
(Captain Idra)
This is the price of commanding—
That you always stand alone,
Letting no one near
To see the fear
That’s behind the mask you’ve grown.
This is the price of commanding.
This is the price of commanding-
That you watch your dearest die,
Sending women and men
To fight again,
And you never tell them why.
This is the price of commanding.
This is the price of commanding,
That mistakes are signed in red—
And that you won’t pay
But others may,
And your best may wind up dead.
This is the price of commanding.
This is the price of commanding—
All the deaths that haunt your sleep.
And you hope they forgive
And so you live
With your memories buried deep.
This is the price of commanding.
This is the price of commanding—
That if you won‘t, others will.
So you take your post,
Mindful of each ghost—
You’ve a debt to them to fill.
This is the price of commanding.
THE ARCHIVIST
(Jadrek)
I sit amid the dusty books. The dust invades my very soul.
It coats my heart with weariness and chokes it with despair.
My life lies beached and withered on a lonely, bleak, uncharted shoal.
There are no kindred spirits here to understand, or care.
When I was young, how often I would feed my hungry mind with tales
And sought the fellowship in books I did not find in kin.
For one does not seek friends when every overture to others fails
So all the company I craved I built from dreams within.
Those dreams—from all my books of lore I plucked the wonders one by one
And waited for the day that I was certain was to come
When some new hero would appear whose quest had only now begun
With desperate need of lore and wisdom I alone could plumb.
And then, ah then, I’d ride away to join with legend and with song.
The trusted friend of heroes, figured in their words and deeds.
Until that day, among the books I’d dwell—but I have dwelt too long
And like the books I sit alone, a relic no one needs.
I grow too old, I grow too old, my achin
g bones have made me lame
And if my futile dream came true, I could not live it now.
The time is past, long past, when I could ride the wings of fleeting fame
The dream is dead beneath the dust, as ‘neath the dust I bow.
So, unregarded and alone I tend these fragments of the past
Poor fool who bartered life and soul on dreams and useless lore.
And as I watch despair and bitterness enclose my heart at last
Within my soul’s dark night I cry out, “Is there nothing more?”
LIZARD DREAMS
(Kethry: Oathbound)
Most folk avoid the Pelagir Hills, where ancient wars and battles
Were fought with magic, not with steel, for land and gold and chattels.
Most folk avoid the forest dark for magics still surround it
And change the creatures living there and all that dwell around it.
Within a tree upon a hill that glowed at night with magic
There lived a lizard named Gervase whose life was rather tragic.
His heart was brave, his mind was wise. He longed to be a wizard.
But who would ever think to teach their magic to a lizard?
So poor Gervase would sit and dream, or sigh as sadly rueing
That fate kept him forever barred from good he could be doing.
That he had wit and mind and will it cannot be debated
He also had the kindest heart that ever gods created.
One day as Gervase sighed and dreamed all in the forest sunning
Valdemar 05 - [Vows & Honor 02] - Oathbreakers Page 27