The Secret Path
[01]

Part Two



Eto plunged her bare arms into the small, shallow basin of their cozy in-home bathhouse.  It was considered a luxury by some to have a bathhouse, but knowing that her father had built it himself, the connotation was nearly meaningless.  She was proud of his handiwork, but she was hardly aware of the fact that it was built at her mother’s request; Ahmesa had grown tired of hauling her two dirtied children to the spring house every day.

“Ach,” she said, snapping her lower mandibles in annoyance, not warm enough.    

She pulled her dripping arms from out of the basin and tapped a small holographic icon near the edge of the water.  The controls were designed seamlessly into the smooth, polished stone—more a pleasure to look at than they were to work with.  She watched patiently as the symbols ticked up with each rising degree.   

“Puma!” she called and cast a glance over her shoulder.  “C’mon, the water is ready,” she said as swirled her hand in the basin.

A mumbled groan cam from the next room down, where her brother sat bent over an array of haphazardly strewn study materials on the floor.

“Amma won’t let you go tomorrow until you’re clean,” she taunted him.

“Take your bath, then!” came his testy reply.  

Eto let a low growl escape her throat.  She was about to go jump on him and smear her wet arms across his face when her mother entered the room and began rolling up her skirts.

“Eto, you haven’t taken off your dirty clothes yet,” she said, and tested the water.  “And where is your brother?”

Eto hastily began pulling off her soiled layers of clothing.

“Puma, you get in here now,” Ahmesa called as she took a basket of soaps and scrubs from off the wall.

Eto jumped into the basin, creating a rather large splash that earned a sharp look of warning from her mother.  She ducked down under the water sheepishly and rose up slowly, inspecting the toes of her hooves as she wiggled them under the water.

“The dirt is coming right off, Amma!” she said hopefully.

“It won’t save you from a scrubbing,” Ahmesa said as she graced her daughter with an affectionate smile.  She started lathering up a large sponge.  

Eto watched her mother quietly, waiting for her to sing as she usually did for the bath.  She waited, but no song came.  Her mother was unusually quiet this evening.

“Well there he is,” Ahmesa commented dryly as Puma came to stand in the doorway.

His arms were firmly crossed over his scantily muscled chest, and his sapphire eyes glinted defiantly.  He stood rooted to the spot.  

“Take it all off, you’re getting in there too,” she added firmly.

Eto stifled a snort of laughter at the sour look on his face.  He looked scandalized.

“I can’t bath with her,” he cried indignantly, “I’m a man!”  

“Not yet, you aren’t,” Ahmesa growled.  “Get in.”

He disrobed rather sluggishly before reluctantly stepping into the basin with Eto, earning him the first rough scrub.  He shot Eto a venomous look as she sniggered and began to work a smoothing stone back and forth over her dark skin.

“You have always bathed with your sister,” Ahmesa chided, scrubbing harder still.

“Wort,” he hissed.




***




“Take your time getting dressed; we won’t be eating just yet,” her mother had said some time later.  

Eto padded softly along the hallway leading to the inner courtyard of the house.  She felt refreshed, what with the warm bath and the clean clothes she now wore, but her stomach had begun to growl impatiently.  The evening meal was surely ready by now, so she had ventured from her room quietly.

She turned a corner and was about to pass silently by her father’s study when she heard a low, steady murmuring coming form within the room.  She slowed her pace as she passed the length of the slatted wall.  She recognized her father’s voice, but she could not see him through the tall slats.

She looked towards the door.  It was cracked open slightly.  

She dare not go in, but she could at least take a quick glance in passing.  She moved forward slowly, to look as though she were meandering down the hall.  Eto covertly stole a glance with the full intention to keep walking as she passed, but what she saw grounded her to the spot.  

Her father was kneeled upon a great, circular mat that covered the smooth floor towards the back of the room, his head bent low in fervent prayer before an ornately carved cabinet.  In the rare moments her mother had let her join her father in the study, this cabinet had never been open.

Her breath caught in her chest at the sight of its heavy doors flung open wide and the sleek, angular armor that rested within.  

A multitude of thoughts raced through her mind as she blinked in confusion.  She knew the armor, but only because of what she had seen in murals and stories depicting the greatest of Sangheili warriors and heroes of old.  This armor was very real, however, and something about it frightened her.  It was a glistening red, like the blood of the Prophets in the story about the Ancient Wars.  

She could not tear her eyes away from it.

Eto nearly jumped when a soft grip descended upon her shoulder.  Startled, she looked up to meet the cool green gaze of her mother.  

She was stunned for a moment, so that only her two lower mandibles quivered uncertainly.  

“Amma?” she asked in a small but troubled voice.

Ahmesa motioned to silence her, and lifted her gaze to the room where Oruo continued in fervent prayer to the Gods.  Her voice, though soft and reassuring, was barely above a whisper.

“You mustn’t disturb your father, Eto.” Ahmesa gently led her away from the door.  

“Come with me,” she said softly, her hand still resting firmly upon her daughter’s shoulder.

Eto cast a last furtive glance towards the door as her mother led her down the hall, wondering at what this all could mean.

To her growing confusion, her father did not join them that evening.  Her mother was quiet, and Eto was left to wonder.