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“Why in the world would they do that?”
Archer made a small movement, suggestive of a shrug. “The Bozandari have always been a hard people. Long it was a hardness born of necessity. Their home city has always been a way station and trade center, but the Bozandari themselves had little to sell. So they learned to exact the greatest possible profit from their location. Traders coming to Bozandar are taxed, and the market keepers also take tax in kind on all goods brought for sale. It was how the Bozandari learned to survive.”
He paused a moment. “In times gone by, this was naught but a means of feeding themselves and their people. But taking from all whom they encountered became a way of life. And as their wealth grew, they could afford larger armies with which to intimidate or conquer their neighbors. For a people accustomed to providing for themselves from other people’s labors, conquest and plunder were but a small step.”
“But whyever do they turn these people into slaves?”
“It began because the Anari are such great workers of stone. The Bozandari wanted their cities to shine with the same beauty and skill, so they collected the best of the Anari stoneworkers and took them to Bozandar. But beyond that, why work a market oneself when one can make a slave do the work? Why cook one’s own meals when a slave can do that? Again, for a people whose history lies in surviving on the work of others, ’tis but a small step.”
Tess shook her head. “There are no limits to the cruelty of men.”
“It seems not.” His face grew shadowed, as if he were remembering things best forgotten.
For his sake, she tried to change the subject. “How is it the Ilduin came to have such power? If Sara and I are to be useful as Ilduin, it would seem that we ought to know who we are and how our powers work.”
He was silent for a moment, as if drawing himself out of a dark pit. “You speak of the Mysteries.”
“The Mysteries?”
“Aye. The secrets of the Ilduin. The Ilduin of old may have known. ’Twas said their powers were gifts from the gods. But whatever they knew, they kept to themselves. ’Tis said that at the end of the First Age, when horror and destruction lay all around, the Ilduin oversaw the building of the Anari temples and concealed all the Mysteries within those temples. If that be true, none has ever found the answers, though many have tried over the centuries.”
The stew was soon ready. Sara had an amazing way of throwing a few things into a pot and in a short while producing a savory meal. Tess ate with a hunger that surprised even herself, as if she had not eaten in weeks. Almost as soon as the food hit her belly, she could feel herself strengthening.
By the time Sara and Tom had finished cleaning up and were about to put out the cook fire, Giri began to ride up the slope toward them. He came fast, but not fast enough to cause alarm.
When he reached them, his face was grave and full of sorrow. “Let us go down to Gewindi-Telner. They have offered us lodging at Telnertah, the village temple.”
He looked past them at the other Anari. “You will follow us.”
* * * *
From times past, Archer recognized a few of the older Gewindi, and they him. His travels had taken him over most of the known world in his time, and taken him more than once. A few nods greeted him as he and Tess led the procession into town, but beyond nods, the greetings were nonexistent. The usually warm and outgoing Anari had become cautious of strangers over the three generations of their enslavement, and with the day’s bad news, they were even less inclined to warmth. Most faces were stoic, but on some tears coursed down.
Giri led them straight to the temple and into the guesthouse, made of stone and roofed over with a perfectly carved vault of granite.
“Stay here,” he told the party. “There is to be a judgment, and outsiders will not be welcome.”
He stayed to help unload the horses, then guided their mounts away to a stable. The rest of the party remained in the comfortably large round room that was somehow ensconced in the temple. There was a door that led into the temple proper, but Tom soon discovered it was locked.
“We can’t go in there?” he asked.
Ratha shook his head. “Not without invitation.”
In a corner was a small fountain with water gushing up from it, probably from some underground spring. There was a hearth on which wood for a fire had already been laid, though not lit. And there were a half dozen elevated stone pallets that could serve either as chairs or beds.
Windows beneath shades of animal skin that could be rolled up or down gave a view onto the sun-shaped plaza and beyond, to one of the curving paths that led between leafless trees to another section of the village.
Tess found herself drawn to the window and stood there for minutes uncounted, feeling as if she stood on some kind of brink.
“What is it, Tess?” Sara asked, coming to her elbow. “What do you see?”
“’Tis not what I see but what I feel.”
Sara nodded and remained beside her, staring out the window. More minutes passed, then a soft sigh escaped her. “It speaks to us.”
“Yes. But I don’t understand.”
“Nor I.”
Together they continued to stare out at the sun-drenched plaza and the winding stone path, so carefully laid out by long ago masons.
“This work is amazing,” Tom said, peering closely at a wall. “The stones are seamless.”
He pulled a hair from his head and attempted to slide it into the almost invisible crack between two stones. “I can’t…and the joints aren’t even square. See how each rock is cut in a different shape, yet each fits exactly into the others?”
“That is one of the many wonders of Anari stonework,” Archer said. “The stones are locked together so that nothing can dislodge them. But wait until you see the other things they create from stone. Items of such beauty and intricacy that no one else can mimic them.”
“Our blessing and our bane both,” Ratha said. “But that is about to end.”
With those words, he reminded them all that they had come to join a revolution.
Tess turned back to the window, Sara at her side, and resumed her study of the view, unable to escape the feeling that it was speaking to her.
The sun was sinking low in the west when at last Jenah returned. He was followed by a group of young men and women who bore stone platters of food for the guests and, surprisingly, flowers for Tess.
She accepted them with a smile and an expression of gratitude, but felt uncomfortable at being singled out in this fashion. After all, Archer, Ratha and Giri had fought beside the men of Gewindi Tel and certainly deserved more thanks than she did.
“Eat,” said Jenah. “Then we have a favor to ask of Lady Tess.”
That news was enough to destroy Tess’s appetite, but out of courtesy she tasted the food…and found it to be too wonderful to pass up.
Giri came to sit beside her around the feast and said reassuringly, “Fear not, Lady. All will be well.”
“Guests are treated royally by the Anari,” Archer added. “Among the desert peoples, to deny succor to a stranger is a mortal sin. Now that they are sure we are not agents of Bozandar, the old ways resume.”
“Aye,” Ratha agreed, with a laugh. “Wait until you taste the hospitality of Monabi-Tel.”
Giri joined his brother’s laugh. “Indeed. Monabi-Tel must exceed Gewindi-Tel.”
“Of course,” Ratha said.
His voice broke into song, a melody that sat low in his chest and seemed to rumble with the memories of the mountains themselves.
Monabi-Tel an leekehnen
Monabi lohrisie
Zar Tel mim Torsah seekehnen
Monabi lohr
Monabi fohr
Monabi-Tel wohbie.
Tess found herself laughing, despite having no idea what the words meant. Somehow the melody made her want to clap her hands as gleefully as a child. Finally she asked, “Of what do you sing, Ratha?”
“It is a children’s song,” he replied with a grin. “The words do not work well in your language, but it is something like this: Monabi-Tel live decently, Monabi people say. Our Tel craves wisdom peacefully. Monabi are good. Monabi are strong. Just ask Monabi-Tel.”
“As you can see,” Giri said, joining in the mirth, “we are raised to be a proud people.”
“And yet you make fun of yourselves at the same time,” Tess said.
“But of course, m’Lady,” Giri said. “To be proud and not make fun of oneself is arrogance. To make fun of oneself and not be proud is self-loathing. But to be proud and still make fun of oneself, that is wisdom.”
“Monabi-Tel were always our bards and tricksters,” Jenah said with an almost imperceptible wink. “Take naught that they say seriously.”
“And Gewindi-Tel were always our solemn and hardworking mentors,” Giri replied. “Look not to them for joy, but only for labor.”
“How much of any of this should I take seriously?” Tess asked with a playful smile.
“Very little,” Archer said, chuckling. “The play among Tels has been thus for time out of mind. From the smallest grain of truth they will build a mountain of playful lies about each other.”
“Aye,” Giri said. “It is why we have never made war amongst ourselves. You might say we celebrate our common differences.”
“That is well-spoken,” Jenah said. Turning to Tess, he added, “That which divides us is but a fraction of that which unites us. And thus have we played and laughed and worked together from the First Age.”
He paused for a moment, shifting forward in his seat. “But not all is play and laughter, m’Lady. As I said, we have a favor to ask of you. And the Lady Sara, if she would not mind.”
“I will do what I can,” Tess said, uncertainty and dread growing within her heart. “I fear I know too little to be of much use.”
“And I,” Sara added. “I pray that you do not expect too much, lest I disappoint you.”
“What they ask is naught but a small thing,” Jenah said, smiling. “Our Telneren ask. They will explain.”
4
Jenah led Tess and Sara out of the guest room and through the larger circular entrance room by which they had come. He paused a moment to orient them.
“Each Anari Tel consists of three family groups. This room is my family’s entrance to the temple.” He pointed through a window at one of the serpentine paths that led to another round building surrounded by smaller houses. “That is my family’s dwelling place. My people always come to the temple along that path and through this door. This demonstrates our awareness that we are part of a larger whole, yet each must follow his own path within the whole.”
“It’s beautiful,” Tess said, looking around her at the glyphs on the walls. “I can see why people believe the Ilduin secrets lie within your temples. These walls sing with meaning and yet hover out of reach, like forgotten dreams.”
“Like forgotten dreams,” Sara echoed, nodding. “Yes.”
“Come,” Jenah said, indicating a door on the inner wall. “The Telneren await.”
They stepped through the door into another large circular room, obviously at the center of the temple. The walls and ceiling offered a panoply of glyphs and recessed reliefs that drew the attention from one to the next as if by a magnetic force. In the center, a round altar stood with three lighted candles. Around the altar sat six Anari women, their eyes closed, mouths moving silently and yet in unison. Jenah touched a finger to his lips and waited with them as the women completed their prayer.
When they finished the prayer, the six women opened their eyes simultaneously and turned to Jenah. The oldest of the women spoke quietly.
“These are the Ilduin?”
“Yes, mother,” Jenah said. “I present Lady Tess Birdsong and Lady Sara Deepwell, of Whitewater, in the northern lands. Upon my honor, they come with pure hearts and of free will in the service of the Anari.”
“Upon your honor, with pure hearts and of free will, we accept their service,” the woman said. Then she broke into a smile and offered a slight bow, instantly mirrored by the others. “Welcome to Gewindi-Telner, my Ladies. We are honored to be blessed with Ilduin presence.”
“The honor is ours,” Tess said, repeating the bow and the words Jenah had taught her, the ritual greetings of the Anari. “My hosts bless me with their hospitality.”
“My name is Eiehsa of Gewindi-Tel,” the woman said, now stepping closer. “My son has told me of your meeting, and the courage of your companions. I would thank you for saving my son’s life, and know that I feel such in my heart, but a formal recitation would neglect the souls of those whom you could not save and the mothers who grieve them. I fear you have come to our land in perilous times, and yet we ask your blessing.”
“My blessing?” Tess asked, surprised to learn that Eiesha was Jenah’s mother. “I don’t understand.”
“Ilduin were they who taught us to shape these walls such,” Eiehsa said, “and Ilduin are the spirits that move within Anari hands as they shape the stone. It is the custom of our people that children receive an Ilduin blessing as soon as they leave their mothers’ breasts, but our only Ilduin was taken as a slave four years past, and many are the unblessed children. On behalf of my Tel, I entreat that you would bless these young souls, that their future may be brighter than their past.”
“I do not know what to do,” Tess said. “Sara and I are of Ilduin blood, yes, but we have not yet learned even a fraction of what that means.”
The woman smiled. “It is not what you may know that would bless our children, Lady Tess. It is the essence of the goodness that lies within you which carries the grace of blessing.”
Tess remembered the horrors of Lorense and wondered if there was indeed goodness in her Ilduin heritage. Would she bless these people—or damn them? She could see the same thoughts echoed in Sara’s eyes.
“I fear the Ladies doubt themselves, Mother,” Jenah said. “Much pain have they suffered in their journey here, and I sense there is much they regret. Little has Lady Tess told me, but in the spaces between her words there are volumes to be read.”
The woman nodded and held out a hand to each of them, palms up. The warmth in the woman’s eyes completed the invitation, and Tess and Sara each placed a hand in hers. The woman’s eyes closed, and her lips moved again in a silent prayer. Although her back was to the other Telneren, they, too, closed their eyes and mouthed the prayer in unison.
“These are hands of soft hearts,” Eiehsa said, her eyes still closed. “For only soft hearts could grieve so. May Adis guide their grieving hearts into safe harbor and his cleansing waters carry their stains into the abyss.”
“May Adis guide their grieving hearts into safe harbor and his cleansing waters carry their stains into the abyss,” the other women echoed in unison.
Tess had closed her eyes almost on impulse, but now she opened them as she felt water pouring over her hand. Two of the other women had approached them with shallow, stone pitchers from which the water flowed.
Eiehsa smiled and gave their hands a squeeze. “What Adis has taken into the abyss, you must release, lest you be taken into the abyss with it. Bear your burdens no longer, noble Ilduin.”
Tess’s thoughts warred against each other. On one side was the impulse to accept that what was past was past and embrace her future. On the other lay doubt, the urge to dismiss the woman’s words as so much mystical refuse. Only when she saw the tears flowing down Sara’s face did she know to which impulse she would yield. There was naught to be gained and much to be lost in continuing to flay herself for what had happened.
“I accept the forgiveness of Adis,” Sara whispered through her tears.
“I accept the forgiveness of Adis,” Tess repeated, now feeling her own tears begin to flow. “Let us go forward together, Sara, in the good that we know to be.”
“Yes, Lady Tess,” Sara said, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “In the good that we know to be.”
A wide smile lighted Eiehsa’s face and, it seemed, the entire room. “And now, you will bless our children?”
The children filed in through the three great entryways, accompanied by mothers who appeared both anxious and proud. All the children were very young, some infants in arms, others certainly no more than five summers. At the altar, the three lines merged and began to move in a circle around Tess and Sara so that each child would be blessed by both.
As she touched each soft head and absorbed each smile, Tess felt beauty growing within her, a lightness and warmth that she was sure she had never felt before. Her lips murmured gentle words of blessing, but it was as if she was the one being blessed. She had no idea how many children she might have blessed…a hundred? But she was transported by the experience until, at its very end, she lifted her eyes to the dome of rock above her head and stared into its very heart.
It was as if the symbols drew her, lifting her, until she felt light on her feet, as if she could soar above. Surely all the blessings she had given and the warmth she had received in turn had gone to her head.
