#if Traveler is technically an anchorite child then the musical saw is truly a joint product of all five peoples

[alittlechildforever]

Musical Saw

I wanted to write a fanfic for Chants of Sennaar. I only used he/him pronouns but let's say that their languages have no gendered pronouns.

The five representatives of the Temple's peoples were gathered in one of the anchorites' rooms, in the devotees' lands. A bard, the Director of the theater, had called a meeting. The Director stood in front of the screen, which currently showed a saw and some sort of curved stick with a taut string.

The Priest, no, the new Preacher was hoping that he was not expected to know what the curved stick was. The Director was utterly silent as the other representatives gathered. He seemed tense. When he began to speak, it was with utmost seriousness.

It immediately turned out that the Preacher's worry was for nothing, as the Director began explaining what a saw and the stick - a bow - were for. In detail.

The Preacher decided to forgive the Director the long-winded explanation when it looked like the anchorite genuinely did not know what a saw was for. The peoples of the higher levels, it seemed, were a strange bunch. He was not sure if the alchemists' Professor was also ignorant or just enjoyed listening to the lecture. The explanation of the 'bow' was a little more interesting. Bows were an old weapon for launching projectiles, like a slingshot but for longer distances. The warriors did not prefer projectile weapons, but some kept up the practice as a hobby and to brag about their skill.

"Years, Traveler has?" asked the Director to the anchorite- the Traveler's Creator. The Preacher blinked at the change of topic. The Creator anchorite also seemed to take a second to adjust. Then he spoke.

"Zero years. Five months."

"What?!" the warrior's Commander exclaimed. "He is a baby?!" Or spoke. In the Preacher's experience, the Commander was not a quiet man. In this case the Preacher forgave the volume, because what?

The Creator anchorite seemed perplexed at the reaction.

"The Traveler is not a baby. I created him for the mission of uniting the Temple and reviving my people, and all the skill he needed for that he had from his first waking moment." The Creator anchorite paused for a moment. "He did not have knowledge, since every attempted creation I simply gave knowledge to did not work, but I gave him curiosity, and he got all the knowledge he needed in days. He is not a baby."

"Baby, he is not. Child, he is," said the Director. "Playing, he likes." The image on the screen changed, showing the Traveler holding a saw and bow.

Ah. So it was about the Traveler the whole time.

"Days ago, an old saw, he found. Toys, he made. With his devotee friend, he played. Then, funny sounds, the saw made, when it, his friend shook." (Then his friend found that the saw made funny sounds when he shook it. I wanted to keep the grammar as close to bard language as possible. Sorry if it's hard to read.) "When hit while oddly bent, even more interesting sounds, the saw made. A bow to hit with, they found. Like this, the saw sounds now."

What proceeded to play from the sound-boxes was the most haunting noise the Preacher ever heard. It sounded almost like a wordless voice. It sounded like mourning. It was beautiful... except for the odd screeching sounds in some parts.

The Director faced the Creator with utmost seriousness.

"Your child, you will stop. Please."