One of the hotel's eccentric guest, Di Euncätzio Hachirou, woke up, his pointed ears decorated with golden ring-pieces. Sliding through the stair rail, he began to play a song with his guitar.
Hibiki, the somewhat intimidating bard Hyasuko had often called brother, appeared out of nowhere, an electric wind instrument in hand. He began to sing in a fluent rhythm in Asghari and then Inaj-Kushakarii.
I am so anxious for the Naggeena Nights,
Play, play, play, my leather drum!
In this dance my body is entranced!
Play, play, play , my leather drum!
Asghari Alwaelli and Gemmya began to clap to the tune of the drum, the bass guitar and the metallic instrument.
O, poor little whining pig,
About time you let little girls have their fill,
The Nageena is a time for peace,
Play, play, my leather drum!
Al-Tahir then made a sweet voice, speaking in a heavily accented Liisaiten.
« Oh...sorry, dear. You can't go with Sara. No, you can't! »
Sun-Ya glanced at the big, hairy and dark hand that patted her messy tufts of black hair. She was very aware it wasn't sour-and-sweet pork. But she bit him.
A deep and roar-like scream echoed. Al-Tahir was as red as a tomato:
« Why, you---! »
Sara gasped as she gawked. Al-Tahir was almost stretching to reach the little baby.At the man's glaring, irritated eyes, Sun-Ya pouted and began to cry,terrified. Sara could only watch, her own skin shuddering.
« Sun-Ya! » Roshini almost yelled at the little girl. She immediately took the little girl from the man's sight. « I am so sorry, Village-Chief! I don't know what happened to her! »
« She doesn't know what happened? » The man nearly mocked Roshini's voice. He immediately took the belt from his tunic. « But she'll know soon what happens when disobedient brats happen to touch me! »
« No! » Roshini snarled as she immediately stepped between the two children. « Don't even think about it! She's only a little girl! And, as Sara's godmother, I will never allow you...»
« Allow? » Al-Tahir nearly laughed, gesturing menacingly to the two children. His voice raised in tone. « To think a single woman – a bitch-of-a-heathen woman whom Abdullah or Farzad told me nothing about – would forbid me from control those creepy brats! »
He was about to push Sara's godmother, shoving her to the wall, when the woman raised one hand. An invisible wall appeared in front of him, separating him from an astonished Sara, a still crying Sun-Ya and a determined Roshini.
Roshini's green eyes flared with an ire the twelve year old had never seen. Seeing her aunt growing even angrier than she thought possible Sara widened even more eyes.
Sara was nervous than ever. She could only imagine what would happen if the shamanic and Buddhist priestess happened to anger the village-chief.
'Auntie! Please! No violence! No Black Magic during the Naggeena! My grandpa...! Grandpa Farzad would---!'
Taking the spoon from one of the pudding servings, Roshini placed the large wooden spoon in her hand. Eyeing the six-feet tall man, the "short spirits" Priestess glared at him.
YOU ARE READING
Simpler times with Sun-Ya
FantasyI decided that since Al-Tahir is left wounded at the end of this one-shot, I'll post it for mature audiences. Sorry for my sense of humor. Basically this is what the title implies - Sara and her adoptive sister Sun Ya back at the Parvati-Suki Inn...
