The women in white robes stand quietly in the hallway, nervously eyeing the figure in crimson red that swept through the chambers without even a glance in their direction. The priestesses of Ushasti were uncertain of the cloaked Atarvani was male of female, only that it moved with marked efficiency up the hallway and into the birthing room. Their part, for now was done. Najwa remained inside with the new mother, giving instruction on how to care for the child and making certain that no complications arose. The reason for the Atarvani was unknown to those young women who had just witnessed the birth of Kamilah Hazeen's first daughter and fourth child. Naraki left the chambers moments after the Atarvani's arrival, carrying out soiled bedding and bowls of dirty water. They too, do not look to the Ushasti, but for different reasons, those of status.

Suddenly a heart-wrenching scream tears from the room and assaults the young woman where they stand, freezing them all with fear at what was happening in that room. They recognize the screams, they came from Kamilah. They had heard similar ones through the birthing process, but none were filled with such gut-wrenching pain as those that were heard now. Terrified glances pass between the trio but none dared ask the question, or risk punishment by looking into the room. Najwa would have their hides for that.

"She's just an infant, you can't take her!" The inaudible cries formalize into agonizing words from the mouth of the new mother. The trio's eyes widen as they can't help but listen in. It isn't their fault that the naraki left the door open. Soft 'shhh-ing' sounds come from their fellow Ushasti who remains in the room, but her efforts seem to offer little comfort to the mother who is obviously suffering some torture at the hands of the Atarvani.

"Your daughter's destiny has been foretold. Many generations ago, work was begun to produce your daughter. The Amir-al's own hand directed it, you cannot change it with your selfish desires." A harsh raspy voice, perhaps masked to disguise the Atarvani's identity, finally speaks to the terrified woman in the other room. It bears no pity, no compassion for her. "Your child will be pronounced stillborn to your family and anyone else who knew of your pregnancy. It is a girl, your husband shall not be too disappointed. Any word of this will be denied of course, though I doubt you wish to risk speaking ill of the Atarvani. It will simply be left to a mother's grief and nothing more. You should rejoice, Imphada, your daughter will be raised into the priesthood, her ability will be nourished. I suggest you sleep for now."

There was only a moment of a shadow in the doorway before the crimson figure strode out of the room. In it's arms was the infant, wailing for it's mother's breast. No doubt the dark-skinned infant was ripped away from it's first feeding. But the child was not wrapped in the white cloth the Ushasti had provided but rather a crimson blanket similar in color to the robe the Atarvani wears. The three young women shrink back against the wall, hoping to avoid confrontation. The being in red ignores them and strides down the hallway, leaving behind a wailing mother.

/Concentrate. Keep your mind on the lesson. I know when you are straying, you cannot hide that from me/

The priest and the student sit facing each other on the bare stone floor. No windows to offer distractions - though this far below the earth none would be useful. The thick door is closed and locked so that none might disturb the lessons or walk in on something they were not meant to witness.

The magic usually reserved for those beneath the waters and some mutated halfbreeds is not spoken of in the general populace of the Varati people. It's unthinkable for it would mean an impurity in the bloodline. But there are few who secretly possess this strange magic. Those who were created by the orders of Khalid Atar himself. Varati women were given to visiting Atlanteans for a night in the hopes their womb would produce those usually vile mixtures of bloodlines. Should the child be fortunate enough to have telepathy, it was raised secretly and bred with pure Varati to re-introduce the purity in the line. Those without it were considered shudra and left to that life filled with taunts and sneers for what he or she was.

Eventually the magic worked its way into the Varati people, though those lines begun with the Amir-al's order were watched carefully, and should a child be discovered with the affinity, they were taken away to be trained by the Atarvani. At first, such offspring relied on the teaching from Atlanteans, but over the generations the few that were within the priesthood taught themselves, no longer needing the Atlantean instruction. Those students are taught in secret, while any mention of their affinity leads to claims of Clairvoyance. Those strong enough in magic to know the truth are already aware of the presence, and those without are still students, believing what they are told.

Sabirah tried not to squirm, but it's difficult for a young child to remain still for so long. She didn't wish punishment though and for this reason she really forced herself to learn. She knew of her affinity, but it didn't manifest itself until she was 6 years old whereas Atlanteans have the magic available to them at birth, or so she had been told. She pulled her hand inside the red-trimmed white cloak that all students wore and fixed her dark eyes on the man across from her.

/My name ... is ... Sabirah/

It didn't come easily, but it did come. Her small brow furrowed deeply with the effort and her eyes were reduced to near-slits as the effort of her work surfaced to her physical appearance. She received no smiles, no applause for what she had done, for in the grand scheme of things, it was barely a step forward.

/I ... serve ... the Amir-al/

Again, those few words, while easily spoken with her mouth, were difficult to relay with her mind.

/There is no room for pride here, put such foolish notions away./

The words snapped back at her through the link with a surprising sting. She winced visibly and dropped her gaze from his while offering an apology through emotion. That was much easier for her, emotions required little thought, little concentration. They just happened.

/Again. We will continue until there is no hesitation. Begin./

The red robes were a favored garment to her now and she even enjoyed the deep hood that hid her face until she desired to reveal it. From the shadows she watched the man being brought forward by the dark pillars known as the Agni-Haidar. Briefly her dark eyes flickered to the opposing corner where her long-time instructor watched, and where he would remain throughout the process. The man, a minor warlord she had been told, had been captured after a bloody, but effective battle. She didn't inquire about his name, and she really didn't care. The vile creature dared insult the God-King and such heresy does not go unpunished. He looked vaguely smug, perhaps not fully aware of what would happen to him. Some came in tears, begging for a quick death. Others came silent as stone, too terrified to speak. Other, like this one, were brought to them still thinking he would leave with his skin. Foolish infidel.

She glided from her shadowed corner, still wearing the thick hood over her face. She did not hurry, she had no need to. She came to a stop before the man and studied him for a long moment from the confines of her attire. She could see he was searching for her eyes, to identify her. As she drew closer she could feel his arrogance. He wore it like a badge of honor, but beneath that. She smiled to herself. He was afraid and his fear escalated when she stopped in front of him like a crimson wraith.

To those watching, his eyes went wide and all color drained from his face. He gaze was fixed on the shadows that hid her face. He was unable to look away as his mind was touched, searched for secrets and his punishment revealed in gruesome detail, one that could never be described with only the spoken word. She painted for him a picture of his torture at the hands of the Agni-Haidar while she drew from him his secrets. Sabirah feasted on his fear and sharpened the images in his head, finishing with the glorious thoughts of the God-King, should the Amir-al deem to speak with this useless pile of flesh.