1:5:1 Quatarr (Part 4)

The other villagers watched in a mix of awe and confusion as they saw a very pale figure walk straight through their settlement and towards their leader’s tent while escorted by their protectors.
“Myngeben.” The villager opened the tent and held the flap to one side, gesturing for Lore to enter.
They were careful of where they put their feet. They noticed that the tent’s floor space had been split into two clear sections; they were currently stood on bare, uncovered sand but ahead of them, a wood-like material panelled the floor. Against their personal preference, they removed their shoes before transitioning to the living area. They looked around; the whole space felt out of place given what they knew about the Quatarrians: No visible technology and a strange affinity to nature that seemed alien when compared to their memories of The First City. There was a calming serenity to the tent; an order that inspired trust and security. Everything had its place and no space was wasted. Lore lost themselves in the almost museum-like displays that adorned the various shelves and the gallery of art on the walls. They didn’t even realise that someone else had joined them in the room.
The newcomer evaluated Lore’s appearance and considered her introduction. “Willkoeso zu Crwydisch.” She took Lore’s hand then slid her own up their wrist, to their elbow, before shaking. Instinctively, Lore did the same. “Gariaddum!” She exclaimed. “I’m sorry.” She spoke with a similar accent to Lore’s, hailing from the southern end of England. “Welcome to Crwydisch.” She smiled. It soon turned to a look of confused intrigue before she continued. “My sentries do not allow strangers to enter alone.” She began an inspection. “Especially not strangers from lands foreign. Perhaps they judge you unthreatening, perhaps they underestimate you. I sincerely hope they do not overestimate me.” She moved her hands towards Lore’s head causing them to twitch. “Intriguing. The lack of gold in your skin allows me to see as my guards did but there’s fire in these locks.” She lifted Lore’s hair and ran her fingers through it. “Definitely.” She stepped back. “So, intruder, is your mouth of use or merely decoration?”
Lore looked her up and down, while searching for something to say; she was relatively short, her skin was an unfamiliar rose gold and her hair fell in well defined waves of black before cascading on her shoulders. They still had no idea what to say. They stood there, blinking. “Hi… I’m not sure why your farmers let me in… I’m sorry.”
“You stand in the hidden village with no understanding of why?” She shook her head. “Let us sit a while and perhaps, the tea will clear your mind.” She extended her hand, gesturing for them to move over to a carpeted seating area. She allowed Lore to sit first then took the space opposite. “Do you partake?” She held up a small pot of a granulated substance.
“May I?” Lore held out their hand. The woman obliged and handed them the pot. They sucked the tip of their little finger then delicately touched it to the substance. They then placed their finger back into their mouth. It tingled as if it were spicy but it had an undeniable sweetness to it. Lore nodded then returned the dish.
“Interesting, you are not Faochite then.” She set the pot down before standing to collect the kettle from a small, slate shelf across the room.
“I’m not a shape shifter, no. I’m a human.” Lore thought about the best way to approach their next question. “I’m Lore, I’m not sure I caught your name.”
“Gariaddum! My manners again! I rarely host anyone from beyond the rock wall so do excuse my failings. I am Sharr’Renn. Crwydisch is under my watch.” She walked over, the kettle cradled in her hands. She centred it between them then took a pair of metal bowls and arranged them either side of the seating area. “Is there anything else you require for your tea?”
“A spot of milk wouldn’t be too much would it?” Lore didn’t want to inconvenience her. Sharr’Renn froze at their request. “You know what, it’ll be fine as it is.”
The freeze thawed and she lifted the kettle. “How much would be enough?” She continued pouring until Lore held their hand up to stop her. She then poured her own drink. Although the liquid appeared to be at a near boiling temperature, it didn’t seem to have any impact on the kettle nor her hands. Once the fluid levels matched in both of their bowls, she set the kettle off to one side before adding some of the granulated substance and stirring. She passed the spoon over to Lore who followed suit. “I must ask because I think I may have translated your speech incorrectly but, when you asked for milk, you weren’t expecting…” She paused. “My milk?”
Lore shuddered. “No!” They yelped. “On Earth, it’s customary to serve tea like this with either the milk of a domesticated mammal or a substitute made from blended nuts and water. That sort of milk is definitely reserved for children only.”
“Oh…” She was somewhere between disappointment and relief. “I do not think we have anything matching that description. I do hope the tea is still to your liking.”
Lore nonchalantly hovered their Breacher over their bowl. Determining the contents to be safe or at the very least, not lethal, Lore took a sip; immediately, they returned their taste to the bowl, the tip of their tongue was scalded and the granulated substance burning the rest of their mouth.
“Not to your taste? Could I get you something more palatable?” She moved to stand.
“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Lore reassured. “It’s just a little hot. I need to leave it a moment to cool.” They balanced it in their lap. “You mentioned the Faochite. Have you had problems with them in the past?”
“Problems?” She scoffed. “Far from it. We have a great many Faochite allies. We count some of them as family. We have to be very careful as the Tad Zuiwgr is highly toxic to them.” Sharr’Renn sipped at her drink, a wisp of steam snaked from her mouth as she opened it to talk again. “Have your people had poor experiences with them?”
Lore tried to remember. “My people encountered them during our early days of space exploration… At least that’s what Char told me. The whole thing was called ‘The Faochite Incident’. We nearly destroyed ourselves after learning about the existence of shape shifters.”
“You are relying on second hand knowledge to form an opinion of a whole species?” She held the bowl to her mouth but seemed too engaged in the conversation to remember to drink.
Lore shook their head. “I have nothing against them. I’ve only ever met one, that I know of, and they were okay. I don’t know enough about them really.” They shrugged.
“They are a most wondrous species. Infinitely changeable and adaptable, an excellent representation of everything we desire to embody.” She returned her bowl to the table and refilled it.
Lore tested their tea again. It still burnt but it was only the spice so they continued. “From my memories of Quatarr, fluidity is not a familiar construct. The Quatarrians I remember serving with were more than set in their ways.”
“Westerners?” She waited for confirmation. Lore nodded. “Those in the west are resistant to change. The Quatarrii are better but they still, sometimes, cling to their traditions.”
Lore was about to look at their Breacher but realised that time was irrelevant. “Tell me more… Please.”
“Western society is built to last, built to exist in an unchanging state for as long as its residents survive. Their citadel has stood as it does today through both of their civil wars and thousands of years. While they actively seek out change and progress, once it has been made, it is hard to unmake. An example perhaps. How familiar are you with Quatarrian biology?”
Lore gave a simple shrug.
“I will endeavour to simplify it to the best of my abilities then. We Quatarrians have five sex groups: Benylich, Benyren, Niwen, Gwryen and Gwrylich. Female, Neutral Female, True Neutral, Neutral Male and Male in your tongue. We were unaware of these differences for most of our existence… Apart from Niwen.”
“What’s different about Niwen?” Lore could sense a tension as they asked their question.
Sharr’Renn sighed. “Niwen look exactly like everyone else but they’re a little different internally. They have the best traits of both major sex groups and a little extra. Niwen were some of the only people who could survive prolonged exposure to charged Tempora, through which they gained the ability to see through time.”
“They became oracles…” Lore muttered.
“If that’s what your species call them.” She shook her head. “Just like I assume your species and the Faochite, my people were hunted for their differences. In a species with such a close connection to time, knowing how something could possibly end was tantamount to blasphemy. Eventually, they developed an ability to sense our kind, a gene therapy that would allow any Quatarrian to sense any Niwen. Our superior abilities, among other factors, meant that we had to either hide within our cities, amongst those who hated us, or go into exile. I chose the latter but made sure that others like me or others who thought like me at least had somewhere safe to go.”
“Were you from the west originally then?” Lore took another drink. It no longer burned, allowing them to enjoy the savoury sweetness of the beverage.
“No, not at all. I came from a Quatarrii offshoot. After the first civil war and the salting of our homeland, the Quatarrii retreated into the mountains and discovered vast quantities of Tempora and the fact that it could sustain life underground. Instead of having one leader decide everything, we developed a system of hamlets, each of whom had their own laws and leadership styles. As they grew into villages, most of them grew into one another. The two hamlets would become one village then as they grew, they collided and formed towns. Eventually, we became One and in unity, we found that even in our isolation, we had all changed in similar ways. Like the Westerners, we had virtually abolished gender, but underground, we embraced the differences while also enjoying its fluidity. The only thing that wasn’t looked on so fondly were Niwen. Our proximity to Tempora meant that most of the Niwen born in the One were in a near constant state of Dyfonft-Golwick or Future-sight, driving them to fight or flee.” She paused. Lore was still sipping at their drink, patiently listening to her. “I apologise if I am talking too much.”
“Not at all.” Lore smiled. “It’s incredibly interesting. I personally don’t remember too much about myself or my own people so to learn about others is… fascinating.”
“Away from the Tempora, I’m sure one of my people could help you find those memories.” Sharr’Renn thought for a moment. “In fact, I may be able to help myself.”
Lore smiled sadly. “I wish it were that easy. It’s not that I can’t remember my past, I never lived it. I’m a clone. The ‘real’ me is on the other side of the planet, making peace between the east and west.”
“That explains why my guards let you in at least.” She shook her head. “The mythical Sha’Tara. They who carry time looped on their wrist.”
“Actually, your guards saw this and started bowing to me.” Lore removed their necklace. Again, as soon as the mark left their shirt’s embrace, the viewer’s head dropped and so did the rest of them. Although she was already sitting, Sharr’Renn repositioned herself so that she was kneeling. “Please, you don’t have to. I bought it from a market.”
“If you found that in a market then it was meant to be.” She slowly returned to her seating position, never once breaking eye contact with the necklace. “Time’s mark is certainly one way to guarantee audience. And one way to earn favour… Yet you didn’t and you wouldn’t.”
“I wouldn’t?” Lore tucked the necklace back into their shirt.
Sharr’Renn closed her eyes and inhaled. “There is an air of Tempora around you, enough to entice the senses but not enough to ravage them. Through it I see you. Though there isn’t much as you say, that which there is, is pure. Allow me to help you. Allow me to expand your memories and return to you that which was never given.” She held out her hand. Lore took it. She moved it down to their heart; contact. There was a sensation as though she was forcing her fingers through their ribs but it soon numbed as wave after wave of memories crashed down around them. All at once, the entirety of Sha’Tara’s life was theirs to view. They looked at it all. Several decades of training, love, hate, exploration, rebellion and life licked at their feet like sea at the beach. Having it all there, all available at their fingertips, the context, the understanding and the knowledge the council had chosen to hide from them, they realised that they didn’t want it. As useful as it may have been to know Crait inside and out or the history of their involvement with The Temporal Sciences Guild, the things they would learn could be taught by any terminal on The Razor, and they intended to do so. They stood and watched as the memories slowly receded before returning to the waking world.
“Thank you.” Lore hadn’t noticed it but a single tear had formed in their eye.
“I think I have had you all to myself for too long. A tour is in order.” Sharr’Renn smiled. She too looked ready to cry. “I am so sorry for what you’ve been through.”
“It happened to someone else.” Lore returned.