Ampitheatre

This is our finale, the last day of the Sardar Faire. With an impromptu scheduling of events, I played my Kalika for a night at the main apmiptheatre.

Just one night before the season's Sardar Faire drew to its conclusion. There was quite a crowd drawn in anticipation, and Asia even brought Jade to come and see me play. For at least a few hours I stood on the odeum stage down below, watching now and then as I led the audience captively into a string of complicated melodies. Yet it was Jade's pretty face that drew my eyes back each time.

For the duration of this four-hand journey, celibacy had been impressed upon me. And by the end of my concert I was nearly at my wit's end with need. Jade carried my instrument case for me as we walked back to the tent where our cots were, and it was there that I.. took her.. rather by force. No longer able to contain myself.

What a wretch I had become, caring not one iota whether she wanted to be taken. Later I could weep. But not then. For I needed her body to join with mine own. I needed to fill her belly again and again until I was surrendered of my seed. And afterward, I took her back to her Mistress.

Never in my life have I used a woman thusly. What have I become?

Paga Tent

So distraught I was at seeing Capriel again, only to lose her into the crowd. Again I had become ill with fever and malaise, until I wanted simply to waste away and die in my pain and despair. Too, I was in no good mood to squander the night away with Asia and her company of slaves. But preferred the solace and the night with my four copper tarsks jingling together in my pocket. I liked the sound of them. They had the sound of freedom.. even if only for a few ahn.

It was inside of a colorful paga tent that I had ducked. The night had grown so entirely late that only a few remained, and they were seemingly on their last leg as well, one breath from keeling over in their drunken stupors. I'm not altogether sure the merchant supervising that particular tent was thrilled to see me arrive.. yet off in one corner there was still some sort of contest going on, where large men appeared to be hurling kajirae into the air for sport. The winner obviously he who could throw a woman the farthest.

I had a cup of milk brought to me by that same merchant, who only made a sour face as it was delivered, as if milk were somehow the worst thing in the world. I've no stomach at all for paga. However, his expression cleared away rather promptly when money was placed into his sweaty palm, and the man soon disappeared.

I tried to pay no mind to the contest across the tent, despite the whoops and shouts each time one of the contestants bested his opponent, but instead nursed my sorrows slowly in my cup of milk. Yet at some point a pretty blonde woman had crawled upon hands and knees beneath the table where I sat, and had hidden herself between my legs. She did not come out again until one of the hulks seemed satisfied that she had run off into the night. And he too, vanished somewhere on the vast faire grounds in search of her.

Verroooooosssskaaa. That is what she called herself. And though it was difficult for me to pronounce her name as she herself had done, she snapped at me for suggesting a simpler moniker -- Verr. Everything else seemed rather foreign on her tongue as I tried to comprehend her words. In the end however, I was certain she was asking me to buy her, and I suppose she didn't mind that I only had remaining upon my person, three copper tarsks. She loved me dearly. I could see it in her pretty blue eyes. But alas, I am in love with Capriel.

I was forced to break Verrooooooosssskaaa's heart. Glancing back at me as she departed, she gave a rather wistful sigh and called out to me, something.. 'master,' I was certain.. and forced me down into my despair and self-loathing even deeper. I fear there is not enough milk in all the world to drown my sorrow and numb this pain.

You Give Me Fever

For me, the pivotal point of the entire Faire is the kajira dance contest, and I make it a special point to engage in being among the crowd of spectators. Women fascinate me, and I never tire of the way their bodies are designed and move with an innate appealing lure to men's eyes. My eyes.

This year, much to my disappointment, I was detained and I missed the entire contest. It was afterward however, that I had overheard a few spectators talking over the various particulars of each contestant, and the name of this year's winner was spoken -- Capriel.

Needless to say, my heart stopped its beat for the fraction of an ihn, for I was not sure I had heard correctly. Was it the same Capriel that I had known so long ago? My Capriel?

In an instant my disease crept back upon me full force from its lengthy remission, and I am a man torn in half again with wanting what I can never have.

Merchant Tent

The Faires are run almost entirely by the Merchants' caste. They come from every city in the world to display and sell their wares, most of which is very exotic and unattainable otherwise.

Given only a small handful of copper tarsks by Marius at the onset of our arrival, I was careful in how I spent them. It was hard not to want everything, and I do not know how I would limit myself if I had access to more means than a mere handful of copper tarsks. Rest assured, it was less than six. Otherwise, I know exactly where I should spend them! I am certain Marius knows this too, for my allowance was only four.

Faire Entertainer

Every year it is the creme de la creme of performers that headline the Sardar Faires, ranging from acrobats to larl tamers to magicians. From actors to musicians to poets. I myself am always in awe of those who perform death defying stunts and near-impossible feats of skill.

In one particularly large tent, there were trapeze artists and tightrope walkers who'd brazenly defy gravity without even the aid of safety nets. I was in awe, yet I inwardly cringed at the same time.. for fear one will fall to his or her death.

In all my years coming to a faire once per annum, I have only witnessed such a tragedy once in my lifetime. And I hope I never do again.

The Tent City

While creature comforts may be a bit strained, the Tent City nonetheless makes provision for just about everything imaginable. Marius and I travel with the same small handful of wealthy Cosian Merchants every year at the En'Var Faire. This year is no exception, for he enjoys surrounding himself with nobility and wealth, and in turn they do seem enamored of his fame and notoriety. Like compatible bed fellows, they go hand in hand.

It was part way along the intitial onset of our trip across Thassa, that we stayed the night at one of Port Kar's more oppulent Inns. Marius spent the night in the banquet hall of the Admiral's Inn discussing business and windfall profits with his close friends, while I spent the night in a rented suite there with their companions, the plaything of the spoiled and filthy rich.

Yet here at the faire we have scarcely crossed paths with those handful of wealthy Merchants, and probably will not until it is time to leave again and head back home. There is too much to see and do. And as for Marius, not enough time in the day to increase his wholesale wine profits.

Sardar Faire

It is nearly two hands that have passed before we have finally reached the furthest point north on the Pilgrim's Road, at the end of which lies an event that unfolds itself four times per year, to mark the heralding of each solstice and each equinox.

For many it is a religious epiphany, where pilgrims gather to hear the prophetic utterances of Initiates' divine communion with Priest Kings. For others, it is merely a social event, a cultural gathering of cities and castes wherein the universal human condition is celebrated and a Jubilee of sorts becomes strictly enforced by Merchant Law. For a few, it is nothing more than a crossroads.. a ladder for climbing to the heights of financial and social success.

Marius falls into the latter category, skeptical of those of the first with their vain preachings and self-righteous judgementalism among the masses. He doubts the very existance even of Priest Kings, claiming them nothing more than the self-imposed morality of rigorous insitutions designed to prey upon the weak-minded and rob them slowly of their faculties, and ultimately their material possessions.

I am not so wholly persuaded however ,on either side of the coin. For part of me would side with Marius' obvious empirical logic. One needs only to witness the foolishness of those who fall surrendered to the vain babblings of Initiates. Yet another part of me, deep inside, yearns to believe that there must be a Higher Power. And if this is correct, then all men must be slaves.

This is the Sardar Faire.
It is essentially whatever you make of it.

What if God Was One of Us
Joan Osbourne

If God had a name, what would it be
And would you call it to his face
If you were faced with him in all his glory
What would you ask if you had just one question

What if God was one of us
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the bus
Trying to make his way home

If God had a face what would it look like
And would you want to see
If seeing meant that you would have to believe
In things like heaven and in Jesus and the Saints
And all the Prophets

What if God was one of us
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the bus
Trying to make his way home
He's trying to make his way home
Back up to heaven all alone
Nobody calling on the phone
Except for the pope maybe in Rome

What if god was one of us
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the bus
Trying to make his way home
Just trying to make his way home
Like a holy rolling stone
Back up to heaven all alone
Just trying to make his way home
Nobody calling on the phone
Except for the pope maybe in Rome

Reminiscing

I miss you.

The Touch of the Master's Hand
Mya Brooks

"It was battered and scarred,
And the auctioneer thought it
Hardly worth his while
To waste his time on the old violin,
But he held it up with a smile.
"What am I bid, good people", he cried,
"Who starts the bidding for me?"
"One dollar, one dollar, Do I hear two?"
"Two dollars, who makes it three?"
"Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going for three",

But, No,
From the room far back a grey haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow,
Then wiping the dust from the old violin
And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody, pure and sweet,
As sweet as an angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said "What now am I bid for this old violin?"
As he held it aloft with its' bow.
"One thousand, one thousand, Do I hear two?"
"Two thousand, Who makes it three?"
"Three thousand once, three thousand twice,
Going and gone", said he.

The audience cheered,
But some of them cried,
"We just don't understand."
"What changed its' worth?"
Swift came the reply.
"The Touch of the Masters Hand."

Capriccio

We have set sail from the port of Jad to the mainland, and in my determination not to be ill on this voyage, I begged from my Master a remedy. A trade then, was solicited between my Master and the ship's Physician, and in my waxing health I entertained the lady for the night in her cabin.

This was no mere remedy, but a rather powerful elixer that left me somewhat dazed and unable to distinguish reality from those altered states that I think my mind may have conjured. It was not the least unpleasant, that is until the drug began to wane and I found myself despairing.

The whitecapped tempest rising halfway across Thassa thrilled me to the point that my Lover for the night became herself the Apsara, folding me into her embrace against her divine breast. I never wanted to be roused from this paradise. But alas, my Lover drew me once again from this deep spell, the warm embrace of my panacea no more.