ax_main | T'Challa and Simon

T'Challa visits the Oracle.

The temple to the sun god in Yorkland was located south of the palace, in a part of the city where pilgrims congregated to meditate and wonder over the sight of the grand structure that had so recently been constructed. Only a year since the temple had been commissioned, it was a wonder to behold, adorned in ivory and gold, with decorated columns that stretched up into the sky. It was said that the temple was a gift from an Elf King, or perhaps Elf Prince, no one was quite certain.

The architecture was certainly reminiscent of the elven style, and once you climbed the steps through the arched threshold, one would find themselves in a sprawling courtyard of sunlit pools and places of meditation and song. Even in the midst of the coming winter, as snow blanketed the open spaces, soft melodies from harp and lyre could be heard coming from nooks sparkling with water and the warm rays of the sun.

However, most of the complex was for show, for use by priests or pilgrims awaiting audience. The heart of the temple lie almost underground, deep into a large structure lit almost entirely by skylights and oculus in the domed ceilings above. This was the area that housed the temple's most heralded resident, the Oracle, a young man of undeniable talent. Ethereal power, some would say, gifted by the Lord of Light.

It was into this structure that the exotic stranger was led, plucked from the rank and file of ordinary citizens and silently escorted into the depths, which seemed far warmer than the courtyard above. Here, the sun was not overlooked as being another part of one's day. It was the spotlight, quite literally, that illuminated caverns with the wonder of light that glinted off of gold fixings and sparkled over the surface of each pool and stream. From darkness, the man was led out into a massive circular chamber whose domed ceiling was plated with colorful glass. The light spread out every which way across a large central pool of water.

And, in the center of the pool was a single small dais of white marble, like a skipping stone frozen in the midst of flight. Upon it was a young man with dark hair, dressed simply in white sarong, pleated with cloth-of-gold. His eyes were closed, and the room, despite the activity of the courtyard outside, seemed almost eerily silent, perhaps in deference to his meditation.

If the young prince was not slack-jawed and wide-eyed with amazement to behold the temple, it was only because he came from the Kingdom of Wakanda. He had been born in Birnin Zana, after all, the 'Golden City' itself. But for all of Wakanda's own hidden wonders, he nonetheless recognized the beauty of the arches here, the ivory and gold, the song and sunlight playing unharried against the slow encroachment of winter. He could feel the reverence that had been imbued in the marble and focused beneath the glass domes. It was theatrical in its beauty, and his hosts played their parts well.

Prince T'Challa patiently followed as he was bid, taking it all in as he went. More than a few heads lifted from their prayers to see the unlikely figure in elegant robes draped over sleek, amazingly thin black armor. The black sash tied across his torso shimmered faintly with the delicate weave of purple spots imitating an animal pelt, and the necklace hung down his chest was a silver thread strung with silver claws. He understood it was no small honor to meet this Oracle, but he suspected that Supreme Sorceror Kulan Gath had extended this honor to him in the interest of trying to figure out the mystery he represented to the people of Yorkland rather than out of special favor. The Wakandan dignitaries were an uneasy curiosity, before they were guests. People from the West were often this way.

When his escorts (one of Gath's knights and Shoko, the Dora Milaje that had shadowed T'Challa while Akawe dedicated herself to saving the people of Yorkland from Shuri) stopped just outside the enormous circular chamber, T'Challa was instructed to go on ahead to speak with the Oracle. He had not been informed of any protocol beyond that, but after exchanging a look with Shoko to confirm that she should stay, he moved to approach the central pool. T'Challa stopped several feet from the edge of the pool and faced the meditating figure, considering the look of him a for moment before he spoke and disturbed the impeccable silence. "I was expecting someone older," T'Challa admitted. Although he came from a world away, his words were spoken fluently, albeit with a distinctly different accent. "And perhaps with darker skin."

"I hear that often enough," the young man replied. He certainly didn't fit the description of a messenger from the gods. He was pale, and young, with unremarkable hair or stature. However, as he opened his eyes to look up at the visitor, it was clear that there was one striking feature that he possessed. His gaze was unnatural, eyes shining with a color of blue that couldn't be defined, always shifting, always glowing with some inner light. That gaze seemed to look right into T'Challa, penetrating the core of his being and examining it with a knowing respect. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Prince T'Challa. Please, be at ease. Though politics may attempt to breach these walls, it has never been a taste I care for. I seek nothing from you or your people, nor will I be sharing what I know of you with others."

T'Challa wondered briefly if the other youth was blind, having such unusual eyes, looking at him and looking into him at once. But it would not have been appropriate to ask, and it wouldn't have any bearing on their conversation.

"Greetings, Oracle of the Kingdom of Yorkland. They say you are blessed with great insight." At least this Oracle did not seem too intent on maintaining strict formalities. "Although it does surprise me to hear you suggest that you are not a political figure as much as a spiritual one. Even a newcomer to your lands can see that you are held in high regard with both the people and in the royal court. Your words carry significant weight."

"I have been given the power to catch glimpses of the future. I don't claim to be anything but what that's made me to be," the Oracle admitted. Slowly, he rose to his feet, then began following a narrow, almost hidden shallow path in the pool toward the foreign prince. "If my words carry weight, then it is because others have placed it there."

“That is often the way of power.” T’Challa stepped aside so that the Oracle’s path to reach the other bank across the pool would be clear. “I would like to take this exceptional opportunity to learn what Yorkland is like through your eyes, so to speak. I am curious to know about your Lord of Light, and your role as Oracle.”

Stepping out of the shallow water and onto the carved stone floor on the other side, the young man's sarong dragged damply behind his feet, though he didn't seem to notice. He turned toward T'Challa, a small quirk appearing on his lips. "You have no Light Lord where you come from, no?"

"The panther goddess Bast guides Wakanda," T'Challa agreed. "We know little about your Lord of Light."

"He is the god of sun, song, healing and prophecy," the Oracle told him, leading T'Challa toward one of the curving walls of the chamber. There, a series of intricate carvings showed a beautiful youth with a lyre in one hand and a golden bow in the other. "He is the thwarter of plague and a diviner of truth. Ultimately, he wards off evil with his light."

"What tales do you tell about him?" T'Challa allowed himself to be led, studying the reliefs to consider the symbols of the lyre and bow in the narrative spanning the walls with hands held neatly behind his back. A warrior and an artisan. "Or what lessons does he teach?"

Simon turned to look at him curiously. "How long do you have?"

The answer seemed to amuse the prince, though the Oracle spoke it in earnest. "I do not expect that one afternoon would be time enough to come to understand your god as you know him. But I am a willing student for the hours you will have me."

"Then I'll tell you anything you wish to know," Simon agreed. "But in exchange, will you teach me of Bast? I try to read as much as I can, but the priests don't much enjoy keeping literature in the temple regarding other gods and goddesses."

"I would not expect to find the words of our ancestors here. Ours is essentially an oral tradition," T'Challa explained. "And Wakandans do not often speak of our religion to outsiders..." Though there was no law forbidding speaking of their religion to others explicitly, Wakanda did not seek to spread the influence of their beliefs across continents as colonizers did. Their practices were their own.

"I will tell you about Bast, Oracle. Only if you promise I will not be struck down by the power of your Lord or cast out of the temple," he added before his words could be taken as refusal.

The Oracle's lips tipped up in a smile - as though a laugh were only just held at bay. "You're my guest here, and this place," he swept an arm around them, "was built in both in dedication to the Lord of Light and to see to my safety. You have sanctuary from all things here, while you visit with me - including the prying eyes and ears of those that might have ulterior motives."

"You seem concerned with our privacy and intentions," T'Challa pointed out. It was the second time that the Oracle had suggested he did not have an agenda greater than the content of their conversation, and that whatever they discussed would stay between them. "Is there a reason for your concern?"

"Because you're going to experience others who are less scrupulous about your privacy during your stay in our land," the Oracle answered openly, even as he turned to lead the exotic man down another hall lit by braziers.

The foreigner didn't need to be told. He understood that he and his sister would be subject to scrutiny, ranging from affable to demonizing. The court and ruler of Yorkland must decide for themselves what to make of the strangers to their lands. They had been treated politely to their faces so far, but T'Challa did not assume that meant they were truly welcome.

"Do you say that as a seer of things to come, or as someone who dislikes the taste of politics?"

"While I do detest the taste, I speak more of what I see in this case," the Oracle admitted. "You have enemies on every side. One wonders why you chose to visit at all."

"It's true that we would be more secure if we stayed at home and kept to our own business," T'Challa trailed the Oracle past the braziers. That was the Wakandan way. Yet there was more to them than only that. "You might say we are ambitious. We want to know more about the world around us, to find a place in that world rather than apart from it." He didn't quite say whom he meant by 'we' - himself and his sister, or his country. But it was clearly something he felt strongly about.

"I can appreciate that," the Oracle agreed. "I left my own home behind to embrace my abilities and calling. It was not quite appreciated, by many people, at the time. But you must look toward the future in order to grow."

T'Challa thought about those words for some moments before he answered with much the same conviction as he had before. "Wakanda holds a deep respect for the traditions of the past, yet we are always looking forward. If it is the king's duty to protect our country and our culture, perhaps it is the work of his children to concern themselves with what is yet to come."

The Oracle smiled at him. "Wakanda sounds like a place I would like to visit."

It might not be taken well if he told the Oracle how unlikely it was that such a thing would be allowed to happen. Instead, T'Challa returned the smile politely. "Perhaps you will be satisfied for now with a Wakandan legend about a warrior shaman and a panther goddess..."