The following letter was presumably written in the early Fifth Wane, judging from the words used to describe the people of southeastern Dragon Pass. The society it describes may seem shockingly unfamiliar by comparison to the relatively urbane and cosmopolitan modern world, and perhaps it may be easiest to imagine it was a satire or a "mirror" held up, but as it is a private letter between two citizens of moderate means and little apparent literary pretensions, this seems dubious. Perhaps it is simply best to give praise to the Turner for having already achieved so much liberation from the stultifying past of feigned timelessness.
“Łenōrë,
You have asked for my observations on the hillfolk of Dragon Pass and beyond, especially as it concerns the acts of sexual intercourse. I must correct your question somewhat- I only went a slight ways beyond the southern reach of the pass, and so cannot speak as to the customs further away. Furthermore, I am somewhat loath to speak on this matter, for I fear it may come across as hateful if I were to speak my mind and my heart. Nevertheless, you are owed honesty, my dear, and so I shall speak truthfully.
The Quivīnī are frankly rather banal and dull in this part of mortal life and experience. It is easy to assume that this must be because they do not practice shīmumīyāwonī, they do not practice ējem¹, et cetera. But relative to what they can do, they are nevertheless dull. The men might brag about their sexual prowess, but it is always about the same position and the same accomplishments: reverse cowgirl, successful impregnation. I never heard one of them even talk about giving a woman an orgasm.
One woman had a difficult birth, one where my experience proved useful in aiding the chāłaun rāzhikerdāvā as she struggled to save the woman's life while delivering the child, and she noted that the woman's bones were shaped such that it would be always difficult for her to give birth, and that her previous pregnancy had been difficult too. I confronted her husband about this, and asked him if he thought it was right for her to continue to have children given this.
He said, “That's a sentimental question. Metaphysically, we know that Ērnāłdā purposed women to carry children, and so although the crude, feminine rationalism of Tsālānā Arrōyï (their name for our Ērissā Chālaundāvā) leads the doctor to make such recommendations, the intellect, which is properly spiritual, knows that gross matter must conform to the eternal.” (This was one of their hereditary nobles, who all talk like this. They say that their Ōrlānthä Rekïs demands it, though I've never heard anyone from our friends in Talastar go on like this.) I simply walked out of the room, and offered the resting mother a protective charm when she was more recovered.
It is difficult to believe their men like their women that much. Their marital oaths concern nothing about affection, love, or even care- simply “fertility”, “protection”, and an agreement to be loyal to their children. As such, I presumed that like many benighted peoples who live in chains, they furtively sought affection and desire with other persons of the same gender. But though they clearly displayed more affection with each other than with women, the men dared not touch each other in public, for if a Quivīnī man admits to having been penetrated, he is likely to be stripped of his manhood and treated as a nandanōl, which is to say, a lesser and inferior sort of woman.
Though the scholars may accept the claims of the Quivīnī that their nandanī and vingï are separate things from women and men, that was evidently false to me as soon as I saw how they were treated. They are simply inferior kinds within the overall gender, who cannot perform their assigned roles of being impregnated and impregnator, respectively, except via magical interventions, which are only available to the nandanī in any case. (Or so one vinga told me in confidence.) Their helēri are similarly seen as man and woman both, but not simultaneously. (Dhāfukertäzāl, not dhājemōrkertäzāl, although really more dhāteimmūfukertäzāl², if you'll pardon my language.) As such, they are treated as women by the men and men by the women, generally speaking, and so often live in their own communities much of the time.
The dismality of our siblings, or perhaps our cousins given the distance, living in such straits burns my heart, of course. The flames of wrath and of justice blaze in my soul like an inferno. But I have the waters of Hell in my bones³, that tell me- ‘we also serve who crouch in waiting until the last wagon has gone by’. Nevertheless, if you feel the urge to set a wildfire in the south, know you are not alone.
To cool your temper at this juncture, there is one amusing anecdote I have at hand. Although many of the women of the Quivīnī are publicly supportive of the men's ways, in private many speak more freely, and they are often quite eager for affection from traveling women, who are not so common in that land. I was offering such to one woman, the wife of the local village's potter (they think that shaping clay is men's work, imagine telling that to some Memkōthīs reactionary!) and was discovered, but although such affections are normally overlooked, I was pulled out from between her thighs and accused of bringing “Pärīdārukï”⁴ into their community, of committing acts against nature likely to impregnate her with a monster, and it was only about five minutes into this rant that I realized it.
They had never before seen someone perform the act I was performing with my lips and tongue on that lovely woman. These are a people committed to a shocking rigidity of social order, one that might make said Memkōthīs reactionary raise a finger and say, “Hold on a second,” but for them it is “sacred order”, handed down by the gods, and therefore the cunning use of the tongue, which was not in their order, must therefore be unsacred. Not simply profane, but blasphemous. It was then that I was truly grateful for having served my militia duty, because I was able to punch the woman's brother-in-law, who had discovered us, right where it would knock the wind out of him, and with it his puissance.
I hope this satisfied your curiosity, Łenōrë, although such dry and dismal stuff could hardly slake anyone's thirst, I am sure.
Love, kisses, and a finger along the line of your jaw,
Akursūlā Dēyewī”
1. These are Lunar sexual practices which require a lengthy explanation. -Ed.
2. These are Lunar personal pronouns in their elaborated form, which may be most easily translated, respectively, as "they, who are alternately woman and man", "they, who are woman and man at once", and "that wretch, who is alternately bitch and prick". -Ed.
3. Probably metaphorical, though marines and sailors on the Stygian patrol did dare each other to drink river water frequently. -Ed.
4. One of the linguistic peculiarities of Volsaxiland or northern Heortland is the conservation of this antiquated term for Chaos, which was already a matter of archaicism 200 years before the Bossman in Blue waded out of the water. -Ed.
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