The Wings of Ashtaroth

Chapter 9: Families: Section IV: Qwella

Qwella: Qemassen: Tanata's Temple Archives

Dashel's arms swallowed Qwella in a tight embrace. He lifted her off her feet briefly before letting out an oof and laughing. The warmth of his arms lingered even after he'd released her, such a welcome comfort that Qwella couldn't help but grin back, especially in the cool of the archives, with their one round skylight.

The reed-pens of the Ashenqa at the tables filling the room stopped their endless scratching, like Dashel and Qwella had distracted them.

"You've grown!" Dashel pronounced, as though he hadn't seen her since she was a girl, and not just over a month ago. He winked. "You look happy."

"I am happy," said Qwella. Troubling visions aside. But even the disturbing images she'd seen during Ashtaroth's exorcism didn't vex her as they probably ought to. Instead, they filled her with an insatiable curiosity. None of the other Ashqata had seen what Qwella had: the sand of a foreign desert, the women who'd replaced Ashtaroth, the northern boy with a mask covering half his face. But all of them had heard Ashtaroth scream that Vetnu name: Dannae. Since Qwella had only recognized one of the women—her aunt Meg—the name Dannae was her only clue. She must be one of the Semassenqa, but the only Dannae Qwella knew of had been Qanmi eq-Sabaal's long-dead mother.

When Dashel had reached out to her to arrange a visit, she'd suggested he attend her at the temple. It was hard enough to slip away to investigate, let alone for a visit to her friends. Better that she combine the two.

Thanos eyed Dashel with barely disguised affection, taking Dashel's hand and squeezing as the staid Ashenqa at the archival tables cast curious glances and reproachful stares Dashel's way.

"And you brought a friend," Qwella said. "I hope you don't mind, but I invited a friend of my own." Her chest tightened, not with fear, but with excitement. Of anyone, Dashel would understand her desires. He would be happy for her. She hadn't told Eshant Dashel would be here either, but they were certain to get along. In so many ways, Eshant was just like him.

"A friend?" Dashel beamed, his voice booming and echoey, despite how cramped the room was compared to the rest of Tanata's high-ceilinged, airy temple.

An Ashqen looked up at them from his bench at a copying table and tsked. The sound was followed by a cough, no doubt brought on by the smoke of the braziers lighting the room. Would it be too smoky for Eshant? She suffered terribly from such things.

"A friend?" Dashel whispered comically.

Qwella stifled a laugh. "Eshant. She's a fellow acolyte. But she's coming later once she's finished her morning duties." She shifted her attention to Thanos. "I hope you won't be bored—I'm on temple business. The head archivist's collecting some documents for me."

"Dashel promised me a tour." Thanos narrowed his eyes at Dashel teasingly. "He claims this is the most beautiful of Qemassen's temples. It's certainly very blue. The walls are blue, the floor is blue—even the Ashenqa are blue."

He eyed one of the azure-robed priests as he passed, the man's blue tattoos suddenly standing out to Qwella in a funny sort of way. She'd grown up around Samelqo, and since becoming an acolyte, she dealt with Tanata's Ashenqa regularly, but Thanos's curiosity cast the man in a new light. His gold earrings glinted beneath the sunshine sneaking inside through the skylight.

"The colour blue is sacred to Tanata," Qwella explained. "Besides, some things are gold." She beckoned them to follow her to one of the copying benches.

"And what is the gold supposed to represent?" Thanos took a seat at one of the long benches. "Wealth?"

As Qwella sat, she eyed the door through which Bashir had disappeared. Most of the scrolls were kept out of sight to protect the ink from light damage and maintain the airiness of the temple. "No. It's the colour of the moon and stars."