Crow sat by the light of the fire and listened to the Okanavian pray. Barghast knelt down in the sand, face pointed toward the sky, toward mother Moon. The crude latticework of scars that marked his face were visible in the silver motes of moonlight; the scars, done by the work of a knife, were still a mystery to Crow, for he'd never had the courage to ask the Okanavian how he got them.
The phonetics of the Okanavi language still sounded exotic to Crow, like water churning rock. Barghast had a deep, thunderous voice. Even when he was talking normally his voice boomed. Even now, when he was only murmuring, Crow could hear it from several yards away. There was a serene quality to Barghast's tone, an innocent sort of earnestness that was at odds with his roughened appearance.
Even though it was not the first time Crow had borne witness to this ritual, he still found it equally jarring and fascinating. To see a man as powerfully built and barbaric looking as Barghast kneeling in supplication...there was something deeply alluring about it, almost erotic.
Crow remembered the first time he'd seen Barghast do this. It had been on their first mission, their first night outside of Miffland. Crow had stumbled onto the scene, feeling like a voyeur, as if he were walking into an intimate act. Curiosity getting the best of him, he hadn't been able to turn away. When Barghast had finished, rose to his feet, and turned to find Crow standing there, the practitioner had expected the Okanavian to be angry, but they'd only stared at one another, measuring each other up.
"What were you saying?" Crow asked after a moment, the first to break the silence.
Barghast smiled, making the puckered creases of his scar deepen into cracks. "It was a prayer my mother used to say every night with my brother and I. It didn't matter if the moon was full or if there was no moon at all."
"Does it mean anything?"
Barghast had tugged at his braided beard in thought. "Not really. It's just something I made up, I think. It served a number of things: a lullaby, a prayer of protection, a prayer of comfort..."
"Does it comfort you?"
The Okanavian nodded intently. "Yes."
"Will you teach it to me?"
Barghast blinked in surprise. "You want to learn the prayer?"
Crow shifted nervously, thinking he'd offended the massive warrior. He tried to find the words to explain that he found the Okanavian fascinating. Having hailed from the Plaesil mountains, he'd never met an Okanavian before joining the Inquisition. Sensing his turmoil, Barghast chuckled kindly. "Do not fret, practitioner. I do not take offense. In fact I find it rather flattering. Not many people outside of the Okanavi take interest in our ways. I will teach it to you."
Now, absently running his fingers along the chain of his necklace, Crow whispered, "Mother Moon, your light so cool and gentle, like water against my flesh..."
Crow opened the book he'd taken from the shelf. The spine crackled like dead leaves. He felt guilty for taking the book; it felt like a disrespectful act of desecration. This building, like everything else in the necropolis, was a relic. Despite his qualms, Crow was unable to fight the overpowering pull of curiosity. He had never thought, growing up, he would see the desert or stay a few nights in a dead city. What undiscovered history might he discover in these pages? Even with the light if the oil lamp and the fire illuminating the pages, Crow had to squint to be able to see the loopy handwriting. Most of it had faded overtime but he did not let this deter him. The thought of a challenge only excited him more; he had a mystery on his hands.
Suddenly Sara's voice filled his mind: Crow, we've found Faulko. He's alive, but not in good condition. There was an urgency in her voice that drove him to his feet. If we're going to have any hope of getting out of here we need a diversion…
Crow forced the spinning rush of his thoughts to stop. This was a dangerous situation where anything could happen in the blink of an eye. Shaking Jack awake, he sent back, Are you and the others safe?
Yes, for now...Please hurry.
Jack was up now, making sure his two pistols were loaded. His thin white hair stuck up in tufts but Crow could tell he was awake. He stepped out into the dark, where Barghast still knelt in the sand, praying. Sensing Crow's presence, he rose to his feet, brushing flecks of sand off his tasseled kilt. The light from the moon revealed the muscled peaks of his shoulders and arms visible. The rough fabric of his tunic rippled in the wind. He was easily the biggest man Crow had ever encountered before. The practitioner found him both immensely fascinating and alluring.
"Game time?" the Okanavian asked, teeth flashing in a smile.
"Game time," Crow said with a nod.
Barghast turned in the direction of the library with what sounded like a grunt of satisfaction. "My favorite part of the day."