Shiran-et-Mridir, these were the words that formed in Eranae's mind when she saw the young man's face, and following it was a strong intuition that the words were his name. Immediately afterwards, a translation appeared as well. Pearl born of Fire, that was what it meant in Narlspeech. But Era didn't know Narlspeech. She wondered with astonishment where the words sprung up from in her head.
"Are you still semi-conscious?" The man asked, snapping his fingers near the ear to get her attention. He squatted close enough for his arm to reach her face. She looked at him blankly, her mind was shriveled in utter confusion.
"You don't know Cerhini?" he asked again, this time in Temerish which was the second most prominent language south of Tibmak. Then he paused and looked to the side, as if someone were speaking in his ear but no one actually was standing to his side.
"So you do know Cerhini," he said after the brief pause, switching back to Cerhini, and touched her forehead with the tip of his index finger, "Ah, your lifesong is depleted. That makes sense."
Era felt her head grow lighter. Could the man be transferring some of his lifesong to her, she thought. It gave her some sense of rejuvenated strength and she was able to shove the confusion to the back of her mind, taking in a deep breath.
"Where am I, exactly?" she asked with a focused tone rather than a confused one.
"You are in the healing springs behind the village of Nanaral-tem-Eliniv, or Nanaral for short." he informed.
"And where is that?" she prodded.
"On the base of Mount Favaril, near River Katan." he cleared, "Actually you were found at the creek near that river's mouth."
Eranae didn't know about the mountain but she had some idea of where the river was. Her geography lessons had always focused on the cosmopolitan centres of civilization instead of natural landscapes, so she had trouble remembering about rivers and mountains that weren't the part of some city or fortress. If she had been found near the mouth of the river, it meant that the river opened somewhere on the southern side of the West coast.
"Is your name Shiran-et-Mridir?" she asked next.
There was a hint of surprise on the young man's face, but it was soon replaced by a smile, "Just Mridir, please. The whole name sounds a bit too extravagant. It means 'Pearl born of Fire' in Cerhini."
"I know that." She said.
"Great!" he exclaimed, "Just call me Pearl then"
"Alright, Pearl." She said, trying to get up from the spring.
"You want me to leave?" he rose from the squat, turning the other side.
"What's the point? You have already seen me naked." Era said blankly, "The water's barely translucent."
"Oh, is it?" He said, "I didn't notice. My apologies."
"It doesn't matter," She told him, standing up in the shallow spring, "I am a Renkayan songmaster of the highest birth. Garments are nothing but mere ornamentation to me."
That was true indeed, especially for the Renkayans. Renkaya, the free lands atleast, were situated in a tropical peninsula and most people, both men and women, left their torso bare to endure the heat and humidity. Dresses and robes were reserved for special occasions only.
"Well, here in Ilnanar clothing is a necessity." Pearl informed, "Lest you should freeze to death."
At that point, almost as if Pearl had pre-planned it with a spirit, a cold wind blew from behind Eranae. She shivered from the cold, her teeth clattering. Of course, there was no lifesong present to regulate her body heat in accordance to the temperature outside.
"That reminds me," Pearl handed a thick long piece of cloth, which was one of the few things he carried in his hand, "I brought some clothes for you. You can wipe yourself with this."
She walked out of the water, taking the cloth from him. It was poorly knit and made of brown wool. Era was accustomed to using things of better quality but didn't complain, because it was better than nothing. Finishing that, she took the garments that Pearl had for her.
"These are my older brother's." He told, "His are the only ones that could fit you."
Now that they were standing on even ground, Era noticed that she was a couple of fingers taller than Pearl, who himself was a bit taller than the average Nanar merchant. She had seen many Nanar merchants in the markets of Nydekar, and once even at the village near her family's homestead. The Nanar were usually shorter than the Cerhin, but so were most other peoples in Ashireth.
The garment was similar to what Pearl wore, but the tunic had black and blue checks rather than the more detailed patterns on Pearl's tunics. Then she took the trousers, and hesitated. She had been raised to believe that pants were the attire of the barbarous Kedans and no one in the Cerhin lands, or even the neighbouring lands wore them. The closest thing the Cerhin had to pants were riding breeches, which were worn by messengers and cavalry only. But Ilnanar was south of Arv'Ked and the Nanar social constructs were much more flexible. And given the cool climate of the south, pants were technically more practical than long tunics or skirts.
"I am sorry, but we don't have skirts here." Pearl said, "They are not suited for the climate."
"I understand," She nodded, pulling up the trousers, "You have my gratitude, for saving me. I pledge upon my honor to repay you for this kindness."
"I am sure that you will." He smiled, "However, the repayment I want is in the form of answers."
"Answers?" She raised an eyebrow, then an afterthought struck her. Of course! She had been clutching that accursed thing in her hand when they sank.
"Yes," Pearl said pleasantly as he began walking away from the spring, gesturing Era to follow, "I have several questions about Wind's Wrath, but first we should get you something to eat."