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This is the entire flashback scene from JTPYO King of the Waste [3] /
the trap.
My intent is to
provide some explanation for the inquisitive reader of JTPYO who may
wonder why Naxosos, born into a "might makes right" sort of
world where not only is no value placed upon gentleness, but most
people positively revile and mock it, would face derision for his
lack of killing intent or skills.
(In "the trap,"
Naxosos, sovereign of the Children of God, rescues the warriors of
the Goddess-on-Earth who have gone to fetch enough water for a short
march across the wasteland and become trapped by a large number of
desert men seeking to capture Naxosos, for whom a large bounty is
offered. Not only does he rescue the six giant men, but he does so
without killing a single person or losing any of the water.)
JTPYO – King of the Waste [3] /
the trap (excerpt: at the Sha-halom monastery)
Do you want the last thing your
family ever sees of you to be your heels as you run away, abandoning
them? Never perform sorcery so that you alone out of many may escape.
The holy messengers will never serve you again, but only taunt you as
you seek assistance from the infernal. Forget these words and be
lost, Initiate!
~~ Tagros Naimejo counseling
students regarding the conjuration of elementals and servitors
Now Jaephi interrupted Tagros Naimejo's lecture – the finale of
his series regarding the proper address and usage of simple elemental
entities – to inquire in a tone of polite-but-annoyed confusion:
"Father, why did we work so diligently, and at risk to our
souls, and some of us barely able to achieve an effect after all our
work, only to have you tell us that we're never to do this thing?"
Jaephi, square and dark, resolute chin enhanced rather than
obscured by the beginning of a dense black beard, destined for
priesthood, was the oldest student present at seventeen years, and
from a wealthy, influential family. Quite often he would question the
priests and brothers in a manner that would have earned a penance for
anyone else. None of the other initiates complained of this, for most
often Jaephi would voice notions they hesitated to express themselves
– even if he was at times insulting towards them.
Before Naimejo could respond, Garenth said, "Father, this was
also my thought." Garenth with his frizzy, straw-colored hair
and knobby knees, chin endowed with all-but-invisible fluff, was the
slowest pupil in the class. It had taken him weeks of effort to
persuade a kanhetla quaium tree-elemental to manifest to the extent
that the masters and other students could see it (and to everyone's
sternly-repressed but rageful annoyance). His demeanor was guileless
and earnest.
It was hard to see the boy as a nobleman and head of a great
estate, but that was in fact to be fifteen-year-old Garenth's lot in
life, once his education was complete: If all went according to
schedule, by age seventeen he would command a household of more than
a thousand family members living on and working the same lands and
almost five thousand servants and slaves. Garenth had not yet
selected a wife from the hundred or so applicants, but gossip was
extensive regarding his prospects.
The main orchard of the Sha-halom monastery, where today the
handful of initiated students and their two masters perambulated,
was, simply put, vast. Its northernmost reach lay several miles south
and east of Viragos's Anesfare-Hraneo gate. The monastery orchards,
planted with every kind of tree imaginable, occupied a greater area
than did Viragos province.
A sacred place mentioned in the earliest writings, Sha-halom had
not always remained under the control of the same sect or even the
same temple. Its orchards and planted areas went on for hundreds and
hundreds of acres; there were always teams at work, but at the same
time one could stroll for five or more miles in one direction and
encounter no one.
Tolalo spoke and said, "There are things that we learn as
priests performing a holy office for the Brotherhood that we are then
taught never to do, or to do only under direction from authority or
at greatest need."
Maynaliel Tolalo was, when not on an evangelical mission,
Headmaster of Arts and Sciences at Sha-halom – most referred to
him, however, as "the Dean" for "Dean of Sorcery."
The title had been supposed to be a joke but now, after a good many
years, hardly anyone remembered that and everyone took it seriously –
no student or Brother had to ask what was meant when one made
reference to the Dean, and no one ever laughed – even if they were
free with gibes about his love for wine and occasional drunkenness.
(The nickname "Tolalo" meant "jughead," in other
words, a drunk.)
The old man turned to the student Elighemit, an unassuming,
dark-skinned, dark-eyed boy, beardless and appearing younger than his
fifteen years, quick at lessons though it took urging to get him to
speak, and said, "Elighe, what have we already taught that is to
be learned but never done until ordered or let to do so?"
With a conscientious little frown and after some hesitation
Elighemit said, "Well, one thing…I suppose…one thing would
be that we were taught to create weather effects." Here the
other boys muttered in agreement.
(Meanwhile, the class and teachers continued their perambulation,
presently among cultivated Letifet trees in flower, their
grandly-spreading branches heavy with masses of large, almost
overpoweringly fragrant, dazzlingly white blossoms having the palest
of pale-green centers. Tender, shiny, small young leaves wreathed
each flower-cluster. Later in the year there would be firm,
dark-green fruits prized as food for livestock and in the making of
certain liqueurs and medicines, despite their tartness.)
Elighemit went on, saying: "And we learned that weather
effects must always be avoided unless a demonstrated emergency
exists!"
"And why is this so? Why do we not just create a gentle rain
every time there is the demonstrated emergency of a month-long
drought?" Tolalo inquired further. "This would on the
surface seem most ethical. It would save crops, herds, and lives."
"Because when we do this we are taking someone else's water,"
the boy replied.
Garenth said in his wheezy voice, "The disruption of natural
processes could take years to resolve." (This young man was slow
to absorb any teaching, but skilled in expressing the teaching he had
absorbed.)
Another student, Hoeshranel – with dark-reddish hair and a
Kheorani's terracotta-colored skin, and piercing black eyes to match
his hawklike profile, so muscular he looked more like a beardless man
of twenty than a youth of fourteen – which in turn made his voice
that continued in the lighter timbre and tone of boyhood seem almost
comical – spoke up and said, "A storm or flood could destroy
whole towns."
"This is also true," Tolalo said. "Thank you,
Hoesh." (To this the boy made a deferential little bow.)
Naimejo spoke now, saying, "Naxosos might be able to give us
an example of something we are taught to do, but then forbidden to
do." This was delivered in an arch tone, as though in silent
laughter.
Naxosos trailed the group, presently gazing up into the Letifet
trees with interest, as their flowers were being visited by hordes of
insects, including butterflies with many-hued wings. His kinky hair,
untidy and long with disconcerting spirals of white, gold, and copper
enlivening its ebony profusion, was oiled to within an inch of its
life and hung down his back like that of a droistoai (even the
youngest in the dormitories knew what that word meant, though not
even the eldest were allowed to say it).
Naimejo's pronouncement caused several of the boys to chuckle.
Sixteen-year-old Naxosos seemed not to have heard at first, but
then disengaged from the spectacle above and his great gray eyes fell
upon the others – all of whom had stopped walking and turned to
look at him. A couple of the boys grinned audaciously. The atmosphere
was noisy with the assorted sounds of insects and birds.
"Oh, Naimejo!" Naxosos replied. Addressing his fellow
students – in a melodic tenor that never seemed to have to compete
for attention – Naxosos tugged his bit of curly black beard and
remarked, "Naimejo wants to be the commander general!"
At this riposte all laughed – except for Harkhim, who now
cowered and cringed in terror, his prematurely-aged, beardless face
pale with fright, while the others, Naimejo included, were still
chuckling.
Harkhim (that was the boy's only name) had lived in the streets of
Viragos not knowing a mother or father, but cared for by other
children, until one of those monks dedicated to tracing family lines
of the Brothers of Arigne had identified him as being of the blood,
and so they had brought him to the monastery. The scrawny child had
demonstrated sorcerous ability upon entering Sha-halom and it was
opined he had managed to survive infancy and childhood on the streets
of Viragos mainly due to this.
From the first, Harkhim had seemed transfixed with awe and fear in
the presence of Tagros Naimejo, who now at age twenty-two had begun
to take priestly orders. At times it made lessons difficult. When
asked to speak in class, the boy would typically blink, gape, and
stammer like a peasant some moments before collecting himself, unless
by chance Naimejo was not there, at which times he would enunciate in
a relatively normal fashion – although he always sounded too much
like a servant addressing his master, no matter who he spoke to or
when.
This was especially the case since the class had started evocation
of quaiumi kanhetlae in the orchard and Naxosos, upon trying to
contact one of these historically easygoing, helpful creatures, had
somehow managed to cause a potentially harmful air-elemental of the
Avehtreh caste to appear instead. The creature had demonstrated
remarkable irritability and had verbally abused Naxosos at some
length.
The ranting avehtrehtl – the other students had to be convinced
it was not a demon – finally had required banishment by Tolalo and
Naimejo acting in unison and, once the word got out, it had all had
caused quite a sensation among the students and masters.
Since that unhappy occurrence, Harkhim – like Hoeshranel,
fourteen years past his naming-date but, in contrast to the other,
childlike in stature and voice and at the same time having the
wizened appearance of an elder – demonstrated anxiousness around
both Naimejo and Naxosos, and often seemed to stare fearfully at
things that thronged around each of them, his teacher and his
classmate, things only he could see.
Naxosos's expression became dismayed. Approaching the other boy he
exclaimed, "Forgive my thoughtless speech, Hark!"
He started to say more, but Naimejo loudly declared, "There
is nothing to forgive!" His severe gaze upon Harkhim now,
Naimejo said further: "This one knows of the need to assign fear
to its rightful category! Is that not so, Initiate?!"
Now the boy Harkhim stood upright, and looked the priest in his
eye, saying in a relatively calm voice: "You are right, Father."
Then, looking at Naxosos: "Nevertheless, I will forgive you –
and the gods, they will also forgive you."
"Harkhim!" Tolalo remonstrated.
"It's all right," Naxosos said.
The students all were disconcerted, and became silent.
Trying to get the lesson back on track, Naimejo said, "Naxo,
what is the thing you would speak of?"
Naxosos turned from his classmate to face the group. Smilingly, he
said, "Everyone knows that I was afraid to perform the
sacrifice; I still am! This is how we knew I would
never be a priest."
Now he clasped his hands behind his back in the manner of an
orator and said, "Therefore: Killing. Killing is a thing we must
learn to do, but or Order demands that we also refrain from it until
the proper place and time."
"And if you are Naxosos the Viragan," Jaephi remarked in
an urbane tone that made the insult seem but a risque pleasantry,
"you will never learn, regardless of the place and time."
"Naxosos will talk the girls into doing his killing for him!"
Donehmit pronounced, in an attempt to mask some of the tartness of
Jaephi's speech.
Donehmit was an oddity at Sha-halom, a place of unrelenting
activity and unostentatious diet in Kheoran-Arigne, a land of
year-long torrid temperatures, for he was fat.
It was rumored that the sixteen-year-old had a relative who
smuggled in extra food for him, leaving it cached somewhere on the
expanse of the monastery's lands – but no one had ever caught
Donehmit doing anything or having anything he was not supposed to do
or have, so what had made him fat was still a mystery.
The older students would opine that the surfeit of good things
from outside was shared with certain of the monks, and that's why no
one in the dormitories had been able to figure it out to date.
The group was already a couple of miles from the main building.
The weather was as usual oppressively hot, with minimal breeze. Every
so often they would catch faint sounds of cattle lowing, woodcutters
at their work, or the clanging bell on the refectory tower, but they
encountered no one.
Donehmit's broad, olive-toned face was flushed and sweaty beneath
its mop of dark-brown curls and scanty patches of beard, but to the
boy's credit he always kept up with the group and never complained;
in fact, he was among the class the most likely to make a reassuring
joke when everyone else was worried, angry, or frightened.
(When Naxosos had accidentally conjured the avehtrehtl instead of
the expected one or more kanhetlae, Donehmit had joked gamely at the
creature's shrill ranting, saying, "This can't be what is
possessing Naxo! Clearly this thing is afraid of him, just like we
are!" Typically, any student making such a joke would be
reprimanded, but considering the circumstances, the priests
overlooked it.)
Naxosos said now, in conciliatory reply to Jaephi's insulting
quip, "My ancestor killed hundreds of men with his own hand –
perhaps the gods intend a different way for me."
"That's enough, Naxosos," Maynaliel Tolalo said in a
slightly anxious tone – no one was supposed to know that Naxosos
wasn't really the Gorardeno's son, although almost everyone did. That
Naxosos had to "help the Gorardeno with his business and to
oversee the family in his absence" was the reason given when the
masters were asked why "the Viragan" only lived at the
monastery for a few weeks at most out of every year.
Naimejo said, his tone and stance one of authority, "You
should reconsider joining the priesthood, Naxosos. Many of us, not
just yourself, quail at the idea of the sacrifice." He turned to
address the group at large. "We're supposed to be healers of
both men and beasts, as well as trees and plants. But remember this:
In godless days sacrifices were men and women, and little boys and
little girls; even infants. The herd animals were given to our hand
by the nameless God and moreover the animals choose friendship and
cooperation with us. It is wrong to feel pity for a herd animal,
unless it is being misused. In comparison to what happens to him on
the wasteland, his life with us is long and pleasant, and his end
without fear or pain."
"It may be said," Naxosos affably replied to Tagros
Naimejo, who had been his friend for some years now, "that the
sacrifice not only doesn't begrudge his life, but that he rejoices in
enacting the will of the great nameless God. However, I saw only
hopeless pleading in the eyes of the animals I sacrificed. And
meantime the people had plenty to eat." In an almost apologetic
tone: "It, ah, seemed unnecessary."
Now all the students were silent. The idea that no one relished
performing the sacrifice prevailed in everyone's mind, though no one
spoke, including Jaephi. And yet with this melancholy there were
remembered scents of roasting meat and sounds of celebration.
First and foremost, the Masters of Order El-thoni concentrated
their energies upon healing and preservation of life. One requirement
for acceptance on probationer status was witnessed respect, kindness,
and forbearance toward all life including plants and trees. Therefore
none of the students was of a pugnacious temperament and many were
almost abnormally disinclined to involve themselves in more boylike
competitive pursuits, although fights, some of them fierce, were not
at all uncommon, severely punished though they might be.
A priest, however – a Brother of Arigne – had to perform the
sacrifice, regardless.
And sometimes the priests had to go to war, and take part in the
killing of men.
Naxosos looked from one to the other of his classmates and their
teachers. "I am not a priest and by now everyone knows this."
"Indeed," Donehmit said in a sober tone that stopped
just short of facetiousness.
With a wry glance at the other, Naxosos said, "And all the
teaching I have received at Sha-halom and from my masters here has
been appreciated – even instruction on killing. Never fear, I am
ever grateful for learning."
For a few instants, Naxosos's mild apology seemed to hang in the
air. Then, with a broad grin he said: "There were two boys named
Utesh and Fraheleom."
At this, everyone's attention became fixated upon him and it was
almost as if the birds paused in their singing and insects in their
buzzing to take heed.
Noticing that everyone was listening, Naxosos folded his arms and
pronounced in mock solemnity, "These two boys, Utesh and
Fraheleom, went to the same school and were taught the same teaching
but, because of one thing and another, often found themselves at
odds!" (His stature was unimposing and his limbs not exactly
scrawny, but quite lean; nonetheless, Naxosos's appearance had the
same general effect on others that his voice did: Almost anyone would
take notice of him.)
At this the students chuckled, each for his own reason, and even
Harkhim concealed a grin. The two priests glanced at one another and
exchanged sardonic smiles.
Naimejo said, pulling at his own luxuriant black beard: "Naxosos!
A moment if you will!" (Naimejo sometimes forgot himself and
used his full voice, which he now did.)
Tolalo cried out in muted panic: "Hush! Both of you! We are
never completely beyond someone's notice, let me remind you yet
again!" Naxosos he admonished in stern amusement: "You will
relent with your tales of Fraheleom and Utesh, Naxosos. You will
illustrate your point, if you have one, via some other means."
Grinning, Naxosos made a careless little bow and said, "Very
well. I apologize, Master." He also bowed to Naimejo.
"It's all right," Maynaliel Tolalo grunted.
"I want to hear it!" someone said – someone whose
voice rang like silver chimes. "The story, I mean!" At this
a multitude of birdlike others seemed most excitedly to agree.
Now an even greater silence descended that only seemed more
profound when Harkhim bowed toward the ground and clasped his hands,
and began to murmur a terrified prayer.
"Don't be…afraid…" Naimejo said now in a
less-than-authoritative tone and Tolalo said, "No one move,
especially toward a weapon!"
"Here!" Naxosos exclaimed as he pointed up into the
profusion of leaves, flowers, and branches.
At first it looked like a mass of butterflies, dragonflies, and
small birds, but then the amazed boys and their even-more-amazed
teachers were able to observe little winged human forms gathered upon
a branch like richly-dressed, diminutive lords and ladies viewing a
spectacle in an arena. Most were finger-length but a few somewhat
larger, and some smaller. All were marvelously appointed with
butterfly, moth, dragonfly, bird, or bee wings and a fantastical,
nacreous light shimmered about their company. Some sat or perched
upon the branches; some hovered in the air. All had charming (though
somewhat alien and rather vulpine) facial characteristics. The
females were fascinatingly beautiful despite their
strangely-proportioned limbs and angular silhouettes.
"Those are not messengers!" Jaephi cried out in a choked
voice, backing away. At another time, everyone would have chuckled at
this unsophisticated expression coming from the typically
supercilious Jaephi. Instead, the silence deafened.
"They're tree spirits!" Elighemit said. "Are they
not, Masters?"
"Yes," Tolalo said, trying for a blithe tone in spite of
his uneasiness. "These are, I believe, what our literature
describes as the Voste Forest-Folk. They are, like us, of all the
elements, and then another element that as yet is uncharacterized and
has no name, and their usual home is the deep forest." After
some hesitation: "I must confess this is the first time I have
ever seen one, and I have spent a great many hours in these
orchards."
"They don't look much like the images in the book,"
Naimejo observed in an absent tone, fingers tangled in his beard.
"No," Tolalo agreed, "they don't." (Here one
of the silvery voices repeated mockingly: "Vos-te-fo-rest-FOLK!"
and the assembly of tiny people tittered uproariously.)
The students stood in a skittish knot at the foot of the tree,
expressions frightened, eyes fixed upon the manifestation. Harkhim
continued to pray in a rapid mutter.
Naxosos addressed the assembled Vostelim with a smile, saying: "So
there you are at last! Where were you when you were needed?"
humorously referring to his badly-attempted conjuration.
A beardless man about the size of a sparrow, very well-formed and
well-turned-out in a dark-green shirt, black breeches, and shiny
black boots, handsome with long, dark hair and a haughty demeanor,
hovered on moth wings of the most brilliant acid-green thinly
bordered with yellow; he answered Naxosos in his bell-like voice: "In
fact, Sranion, we bring you tidings from the sylph you offended –
his name is Mehpat."
At this the students began to mutter and back away. Tolalo said,
"Don't interfere, boys. There's nothing to be afraid of, but
outbursts are not helpful."
Of all of them Naxosos remained the least daunted, staring keenly
upwards into the Letifet branches, smiling and playing with his beard
that like his hair was shiny black.
Naimejo, whose demeanor now was mostly unastonished and perhaps
even a bit speculative, raised his voice to the Vostelim and said,
"Please deliver your tidings, but be advised we will allow no
mischief nor will you commit any act upon or against us, in the name
of Kolicharbus."
A female voste said, her voice like that of a tiny brook of clear
water splashing upon desert rocks, "The voste would never work
mischief upon the handsome, worldly, and learned El-thoni Naimejo!"
At this, the other small beings tittered and laughed in their
squeaking voices.
Naxosos said now, "Let us hear your tidings, friends, and
then go in peace."
The little green-winged man said, "Thank you, I will do so."
Here he paused in the manner of someone desirous of everyone's
complete attention, then said, "The avehtreh Mehpat would
apologize to the Sranion, Naxosos the Gorardeno's stepson. The
Sranion's words awakened Mehpat from a hundred-year-long
enchantment."
Now the voste lordling descended in the air until he hovered close
to and a few inches above them. Most of the pupils in the
class drew back to gather around Tolalo and Naimejo.
The voste faced Naxosos, who courteously backed away a pace to
stand with hands clasped behind his back.
The tiny bewinged man went on. "Upon awakening, the avehtreh
Mehpat did not know who he was, where he was, or what was happening –
but says he realized a magus of power was summoning. He says that
then he remembered that he had been placed under enchantment, which
caused him to wroth."
"I understand," Naxosos answered in a mild tone.
"He blamed this upon you, Sranion."
"I understand. Tell him I meant no harm."
Then the little man turned in the air, the strange pearly light
shining about him and the company of small folk clustering in the
trees overhead. "Students and Masters at Sha-halom, as it is
called by the Children of Men today: Hear my words." The
bewinged man now seemed to wait for a response.
"We hear, Lord Voste," Tolalo said in a tone of blithe,
unaffected humility.
"I hear," Naxosos said. (In the short silence that
followed, Harkhim continued to whisper frantic prayers.)
The tiny bewinged man now addressed the group and said, "The
sylph was awakened by a magus not only of extraordinary power, but
compassion and gentleness also. We the Vostelim are in accord
that it could not have taken place otherwise." The
silvery voice now took on an authoritative tone. "Hear me, you
Children of Men! This one, Naxosos ha-ber Gorardeno – this one
right here – will govern over the entire world, and never kill a
human. Not a one!" Here the other birdlike people chimed their
assent.
"With his love and sympathy for humankind, he shall rule
longer than any king before him! This is said in your prophecy and is
true. His reign shall last for a thousand years, and a thousand
years, and a thousand years! And then some more!"
"We hear you," Tolalo repeated.
The voste lordling continued: "And under this rule, the
humans will multiply in an astounding manner! They will fill up the
world, which will groan and beg the great nameless God for relief!"
"We hear you," Naxosos repeated to the voste. Then,
somewhat peremptorily: "Go with God, friends. Tell Mehpat that
he may sleep or wake as he chooses from now on, but in any case we
hope he will bestow his protection upon the monastery of Sha-halom."
One thing that all the students of Art and Science knew was that
forest-dwelling quaiumi in general were prone to exaggeration and
wild sayings, and that it was always a mistake to trust them or
believe their words entirely – therefore, among the students there
was little reaction to the voste's passionate speech, except of
fright.
After a brief hesitation, the voste chirruped excitedly, "We
have more that we want to say!"
To this Naxosos replied in the same easy tone as before, "And
you shall say it at another time – for we are bound to this world
and must obey its laws. We know that if we stay to hear you, we may
remain for months, and our Brothers and families searching
hopelessly, grieving."
Now a female voste floated down to quiver in the air beside the
green-winged man. In a flowing dress and over-robe all of an
ephemeral light blue, her long, glossy hair the bruised hue of a
stormy sky, and her wings silvery and elongate like a dragonfly's,
veined with copper, the female voste seemed a regal and splendid
complement to the male. Her proportions were enticingly feminine,
albeit with rather long, strangely articulated limbs. Her tiny face
was that of a lovely young princess, serene and aloof, though again
with a disturbing hint of a darting avidity, in the manner of a hawk
observing foraging birds from a treetop.
Each member of the group, including the two priests, gazed in
wonderment at the small woman and each advanced a pace.
She spoke to Naxosos: "You will stay and talk to us! You are
wrong about the passage of time – it will seem as though no time
has passed at all, were to you spend days and days with our people,
who are your people! Your brothers will not even notice."
"You'll be back in time for vespers," the small man said
in a reassuring and confident, birdlike voice.
Tolalo, bowed toward the earth, his brow clenched like a fist,
uttered something in a halting mutter, almost a
whisper, that no one could quite catch. Determinedly clearing
his throat, the old priest repeated: "We…have to…get out
of…here." His voice was that of a man in the grip of a bad
dream.
Tolalo repeated even more determinedly: "We have to get out
of here! WE! HAVE - TO - GET - OUT! OF - HERE!"
At this Naimejo seemed finally to rouse: Shaking himself like a
dog awakening from sleep, he snuffled, coughed, then began to chant
the "petition for divine help against a supernatural entity"
in a loud voice, each word pronounced slowly and with effort. The
students – with the exception of Harkhim, already bowed face
to the ground with hands clasped, frantically calling upon the
great nameless God – all began similarly to pray.
The little people collected in the branches above milled about and
made consterned twittering noises; there were shrill shrieks. The one
or two astonished students who managed to keep looking saw tiny
winged men and women darting in all directions like startled birds.
A fierce gale arose with the air so full of dust everyone had to
shield his face. It lasted a few seconds and died as abruptly as it
had begun.
As each member of the company lowered his face-covering, there
were gasps and exclamations of shock.
The group found itself in a different location and a different
time of day: They were no longer among the Letifet trees: They had
somehow got into an area of tree removal with numerous stumps and
piled branches and logs of all sizes. Seen was a little hut for the
woodcutters, but no one was there: Quite a lonely sight.
Harkhim was not the exploring or adventuresome type; he tended not
to wander and knew little of the outside grounds of Sha-halom. He now
stopped his babbling prayers and cried out in fear: "Masters!
Are we still at the monastery?"
"Yes, lad," Tolalo answered in a firm tone. "We're
inside the walls. Although…the wall is barely a wall here. There
might be animal trespassers." At this last, his tone was
uncertain.
"Or a brigand or two," Naimejo muttered.
Wind soughed over ground that was raw and trodden to mud. They
were at the foot of Wurtagh Hill, its long, saddle-like bulk
silhouetted against a sullen yellow sky. (Several of the students
knew it only from maps.)
Viewable orchard land sloped incrementally southwards.
Garenth, the tallest of the boys, now cried in a startled gasp,
"Oh, there!"
Everyone had to squint and stand on tiptoes to see what Garenth
could see, for twilight was upon them – it had been just a couple
of hours past midday when they had encountered the Vostelim.
In a cluster of cypresses at the bottom of a long, gradual, wooded
slope, the monastery could be seen. It was, to everyone's chagrin,
about two miles distant, viewable, and that just scantily, by its
lamp-lit tower and the torches currently being placed along its
walls.
"It's going to take us hours to get back!" Naimejo
wailed faintly, sounding most unlike himself.
"I'm sorry, everyone." This was Naxosos.
Tolalo said, "Let us all have a bite to eat, and perhaps a
bit of wine might not be a bad idea – Naimejo, have you the
wineskin?"
"Yes," the other dazedly replied.
"Let us eat and drink, and say our prayers, and then return
in all haste."
"Forgive me, my brothers: Please forgive me!" Naxosos
entreated; at last Naimejo hushed him.
Each of the students and the two teachers ate whatever he had
brought for this stroll through the orchards of Sha-halom, and also
everyone had a few swallows of wine, which lifted the mood
considerably.
Donehmit, whose snack for the trail was cake made with honey and
almonds, took a couple of extra minutes to eat his treat – as he
finished, licking his fingers one by one while the other boys watched
in mild envy, he said: "There is a cart-track from this place to
the side gate of the burial-ground – from there they drag wood to
the kitchen courtyard. So if we are careful, we will not get lost."
Saying this, he belched.
"This is true," Tolalo agreed. "Even if it gets
dark, we'll be able to find our way."
Jaephi said in a tone meant to be joking, though it only revealed
his uneasiness: "Perhaps the avehtreh will show up and transport
us, just as the Vostelim did."
Elighemit said, "I don't want to see that avehtrehtl thing
again." A couple of the other students murmured agreement. "Or
those other things. What are they called?"
"What other things?!" Garenth inquired. Then, in a
rather panicked tone: "I'm having a hard time putting my
thoughts in order!"
To this, Tolalo answered quickly: "We'll talk about it when
we arrive back to the abbey. Let's just try to get back in one
piece."
"We encountered the Voste forest-folk and they tried to
bewitch us," Harkhim said, his tone uncharacteristically stern
and competent.
"They didn't just try," Naxosos muttered worriedly.
Tolalo said: "If everyone is finished eating, we should
pray." This task the group began with dispatch. Almost at the
instant, they heard the bell for vespers clanging at the abbey.
Once prayers were finished, Hoeshranel spoke up and
said, "We should run." Then, with a glance at
Tolalo: "Ah, and then when we get there we can send a cart back
to carry you, Father!"
"You boys," Tolalo said, taking a swallow of wine,
"should run or walk as you will. Father Naimejo and I have a few
things we should probably discuss before we see our brethren again."
Holding up a cautionary hand: "Stay together. Don't get so far
ahead of us that we won't be able to hear your screams if a bear
attacks!"
"Hoeshi," Naxosos said to the other student, "do
you have your blade?" (No pupil was supposed to carry any sort
of weapon, though the rules on this were not strictly enforced, as
large predator animals and occasionally human miscreants sometimes
were encountered within the walls.)
The other boy replied in his incongruously high-pitched voice,
"Yes."
"You'll watch for any sign of trouble," Naxosos said.
"Let's all run, then." In an amused tone: "Donehmit,
are you finished eating and drinking for now?"
"The voste said we would get back in time for vespers,"
the portly youth commented, sounding a bit doubtful.
"It didn't mention what day of the week it would be,"
Naimejo responded acidly, having regained most of his
composure. "Go on ahead, fellows – you may run into some
laborers on the trail. If you have weapons, do not show them! Do not
answer questions until all of us meet up again – we will tell you
what to say!"
"Until we get our story straight," Tolalo said in a
kindly tone, "just tell anyone who asks that you wandered far
and lost your way – which is true."
"I am very, very sorry for this, Master," Naxosos began,
speaking to Tolalo, but at this point Naimejo wheeled around upon him
and growled "That's ENOUGH!" in a menacing tone. "If
you get to the complex before we do, stay where I can find you! If it
takes more than five minutes for me to have you in front of the desk,
you will be caned! Is it understood?"
After a moment of cowed silence, Naxosos shakily replied, "Of,
of course, N-…ah, Father."
"Let us go," Hoeshranel expressed confidently. "We
can at least run until it's completely dark and make a mile or two."
"Harkhim can conjure a light, can't you, Hark?" Naxosos
inquired of the other student and Harkhim began to repeat, as he
typically did, "Yes, yes, mm-hm, mm-hm, yes it will be done,
mm-hm, yes…" and Naxosos added, "Not yet, but when we
need it," and Harkhim answered, "Yes. He can, I can do it."
"It gets pretty dark where the trees go over the trail,"
Donhemit said, and Naxosos responded in an admonitory tone, "He
can do it."
Then, with a burst of tipsy chattering and cries of "Go with
God, Fathers!" the students took to their heels and headed down
the faint track toward the monastery's primary complex.
Naimejo and Tolalo began to walk, following them. They left the
woodcutters' cot and after fifty or so yards were again among trees,
stately, broad-trunked Sar-Ehovis that towered on each side, arching
over the trail. Their massed branches and leaves
blocked out much of the light, and it was gloomy. The air smelled
faintly of smoke.
Both priests knew the monastery and its grounds well, however, and
they were undaunted.
"There's some wine left, isn't there?" Tolalo finally
said.
"Yes – here you go."
The two began speaking in Tramrini just in case someone overheard
them; almost all the students and teachers spoke Arigni and although
many languages were taught at Sha-halom, the language of the
fisher-folk was spoken by only a handful.
"Actually, I brought my cup." They stopped for a moment
so that Naimejo could fill the leather cup, then continued, passing
the cup back and forth. The track through the orchard was faint but
neither had trouble following it, and broad enough that they could
walk side-by-side.
"So, what do you think, old man?" Naimejo finally said.
"Was that what we've been waiting for?" At this, Tolalo
chuckled shortly. Naimejo said further, "For I am not certain."
"Your uncertainty means it is, that is, it was not. Not what
we were waiting for. It won't fly," the old priest said, sipping
carefully as he walked. "These tree-folk are not prophets. The
sylph is not a prophet. They will say whatever they will,
thoughtlessly, like children. Knowing that we often misunderstand
their sayings gives them enjoyment." With a little laugh: "The
avehtrehtl apologized to Naxosos." Here both chuckled. "But
was it sorry?"
"Yes," Naimejo said after he laughed, his tone a bit
sad. "You're right." Then, at a sudden thought: "But
what will others say? They may take it as evidence despite our
outcries. You know that the clerics of our order are less rigorous in
their logic than they were a hundred years ago. How I hate to say it,
but it is so. One way or another, questions will be asked."
"Ha! Telling the boy to lie about it, however, will bring
unwanted results. Do you not see this?"
"Yes. Surely it will. And the others will not stay silent
about it, of course."
After a hesitation, Tolalo said, "We must see how much of it
they remember. There's a good possibility that their memories will
have faded by the time they see other people."
"That's what I was thinking."
"What to do, then?"
"We will have some time to think it over this evening, I
suppose."
After a thoughtful pause, Tolalo said, "Which of us do they
have more affection for? You must know."
Laughing: "You, of course."
"We might debate that, but let's assume it for now."
"Very well."
The trail remained wide and more or less viewable
here, so progress was steady, if not rapid. Naimejo
said as he handed the now-empty cup to the other, "You feel like
running? I'm worried about those boys. Whoever they encounter first."
"Oh, they'll be fine." Tolalo shook the leather cup and
replaced it into his scrip, and began to jog along the trail. Naimejo
fell in behind him.
"Did you notice that Donhemit gave away the location of one
of his caches?"
"The Vostelim gave it away, but I already knew about it,"
Tolalo said. "But listen."
"I'm listening."
They ran with footfalls deliberately heavy, so that anyone near
the trail might hear.
"Let us tell them that we should hide the details of our
encounter – not lie about it, but mention simply that we
encountered the voste-folk and they played one of their famous tricks
on us and that we wandered and were lost for a time, and that's all.
If asked for details, we know, we all know, just to fashion some
outlandish thing out of thin cloth – which makes it more
believable."
With a snort: "You are right."
"And if we are days late getting back from our lesson, that
will make it all the more believable, won't it?"
At this Naimejo laughed. They ran on.
Presently Tolalo continued: "The vosteling's prediction I
feel we should not mention and we should tell them not to mention it,
if any were to bring it up."
"They will be questioned."
"And they will make vague, dissembling answers. I'll caution
them not to fabricate anything. They're all smart boys. They have all
seen students get caned for this and that – even Naxosos."
"And what if they're threatened to out with the real story or
suffer a caning? Personally, I can see the disciplinary team getting
zealous in wanting information."
"I don't think that will happen. We may end up finding out
that others among our brethren have encountered the voste and not
said anything about it. More information may be gained than is lost."
"So you think it'll be easy to get these boys to keep
something like that quiet?"
"They will if I beg them not to say anything because I erred
in not protecting them against the voste enchantment." Here some
roots crossed the trail and so they began to walk once again, but
quickly. "We could say that I would be penalized in some
terrible way for failing to protect the class. And, haha, you know,
Naimejo, none of those boys will truly forget what he saw today, the
splendor of it, until the day he dies – even if he can't remember
the exact details. Do you not have memories like that of your
training?"
Naimejo grunted in affirmation.
Tolalo went on: "They'll feel bad thinking that I'll get in
trouble over something that wonderful, and that they might lose me as
a teacher – and they won't say anything."
With a dour chuckle: "That might be a lie, old man."
"Not really – it's possible that I might be chastened or
even demoted if the Hierarch finds out exactly what happened. And –"
Naimejo interrupted with, "He wouldn't dare. He would lose us
both to the fishers."
Tolalo went on: "And I don't know if you recall, but I was
also enchanted."
"And you said something and that woke me up to the point that
I could counter it."
"Yes!" Tolalo exclaimed. "So, you see? It's not a
lie at all. All I could do is say 'let's get out of here,' or
whatever it was that I said." Sighing: "In all
truthfulness, I'm starting to forget some of it."
"If you hadn't sounded the alarm, we'd probably still be
there." After some paces, Naimejo said further, "Invoking
Kolicharbus is supposed to keep them from working mischief against
one, although like you, I have never seen them nor expected to. I
only happened to remember that."
"I don't think they wanted to hurt us as much as they wanted
to see if they could capture Naxo. They might have let us go,
or…hmm…"
"That is also my thinking."
"I always wanted to see voste as a boy. Mother would tell me
that they used to live in these lands but left when the Celans
started to arrive, because they cut down trees wherever they go,"
Tolalo said.
The canopy opened ahead and so the trail was easier to see. They
started to trot again.
Tolalo recited in a faint, ruminating tone: "This one,
Naxosos, will govern over the entire world, and never kill a single
human."
"He has already killed someone," Naimejo remarked. "That
woman he is seeing: Her husband will have her killed. I know him
well, my father and he are acquaintances. He will not put her away.
He will kill her. He might even kill Naxosos."
"Will you be the one to tell them that? Surely she knows
better. So does he – like his mother and most of her family, he is
very hard to persuade into virtuous behavior. I will warn him,
however. He may not heed my words, but he may be more cautious."
Tolalo then hawked and spat.
"If you are getting winded, we should walk."
"No, it is good to run. I haven't seen this part of the
grounds in some time."
After some hesitation, Tolalo inquired, "Have you seen Naemas
in the last year or so?"
"He has been with the Children of God."
After a few more minutes of jogging it became too dark to run, and
there were moreover ungathered Sar-Ehovi nuts lying on the path that
might cause a crippling fall, and so they continued, walking
quickly. Once, when the roof of leaves and
branches opened above them, Tolalo glanced at the sky and
said, "There are the stars. Can you tell if this is still the
same day we left, Naimejo? I confess to some doubt and my eyes aren't
what they used to be."
"I'm fairly certain it's the same day. Do you remember that
when we left this morning, the reference scroll in the main alcove
said moonrise would occur two-and-three-quarters hours after sunrise
and moonset about an hour to midnight. Clearly this is
the hour of sunset, and where is our moon?" He stopped walking
and Tolalo also stopped, and turned to look upwards. "It should
be right about…there."
Naimejo pointed to a cloud-shrouded crescent overhead: "And
there it is. Right phase, right angle."
They started walking again.
"Yes – I hope you're correct and that we're not a year late
getting back from our perambulation. It seems to have rained, when
none was predicted."
"If we are a day late, we need to get our stories straight.
Even more so if it's a year."
"Indeed." Tolalo then returned to the previous subject,
saying, "But, anyway, old fellow, what do you think?"
"You mean your…alibi, or whatever it is?"
"Ah, yes; My plan. My excuse. Or, as you call it, alibi."
"It might work, but we'll have to get the details worked out
before we see Naxo again. If he gets to the dormitory before we get
there, you know he'll have his nose in a manuscript in spite of what
I told him. Someone will see him and figure things out."
"Indeed," Tolalo said. "And in any case we'll need
to return to that part of the orchard again and make an investigation
before many more days pass."
"Yes," Naimejo agreed. "A good excuse for that will
be needed, and a distraction for the boys." They walked on.
A short time later, Tolalo said, "We should, somehow…"
He then stopped speaking.
Naimejo prompted: "Somehow what?" and Tolalo then said,
"We should try – gently, of course – to keep him from
becoming greater in sorcery."
At this, Naimejo seemed to hesitate, until Tolalo added, "For
now. Not permanently. Just for now."
"Yes," Naimejo responded instantly. Then: "Ah,
should we send him home, do you think? He's only been here for two
weeks, his mother wants for him to –"
"No," Tolalo said. "I want for him to be where I
can easily find him."
Naimejo ruminated upon this for a short time, then said, "I
hope no one has overheard us saying these things."
"Let us avoid discussion for the time being."
"Even so."
With these ideas in mind, the two picked up their pace while the
night came on and plangia birds began to make their soft,
mournful-sounding calls.
(March 2022 / 18 March 2024)
