Farlander

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The Sisters of Loss and Longing The sister moons shone overhead in a dark, star-spattered sky. They rose with a fullness that narrowed the eyes – one dusty white, the other blue – and they climbed together on a course that took them partially along the Great Wheel, the visible galactic core, obscuring that vast stain of starlight. Only once in a year did the two moons rise together in all their fullness and, in doing so, they heralded the coming days of autumn. Perhaps it was the reason they had been given their names: the Sisters of Loss and Longing.

The two figures hiking up the hill were small and insignificant beneath this vista of galactic sky. The night was bright enough to see the ground in front of them, and they walked with their heads down, watching their footfalls, thoughtful. Because of this, it was almost a surprise to them when they drew up before the tiny shack at last, noticing it squatting there in the dimness all of a sudden, set against a sound of coursing water that was reminiscent of flames snapping on a distant fire. There was no fire lit in the tiny hut tonight, but a single lantern burned within, spilling a tongue of welcoming yellow light through the mouth of the open doorway. Without hesitation they followed it inside.

The Seer sat cross-legged upon a mat on the floor, a book lying open on his lap. He was squinting down at it through a pair of exceedingly thick-glassed spectacles, as one hand scratched idly at his lice.

It was some time before he acknowledged his visitors, and Nico stood there with dwindling patience, willing Ash to at least clear his throat and announce their presence.

When the Seer looked up at them at last, he smiled and set the book carefully to one side amongst a stack of others. He beckoned them to sit.

Ash began to speak. The older man nodded, listening closely, occasionally exchanging a question for an answer. Their words were soft, respectful of the night hush around them. The old Seer did not seem to be bothered by this late-night intrusion; rather, he seemed to welcome the company. It was as though he had been expecting such a visit from one of the Rshun tonight.

As he and Ash finished their conversation, the Seer gathered up a varnished featherwood box from one corner of the shack, and settled it on the floor beside him. Items appeared from the box in his trembling fingers, and Nico examined them closely as they were arrayed upon the mat.

A square of black slate lay with a lump of chalk resting upon it. Beside these, a bundle of what looked liked dried reeds, each about a foot long. They were left untouched for some minutes as the Seer composed himself with a series of carefully focused breaths. Then he announced his readiness to proceed by a swift clap of his hands.

As he set to work, his hands moved fast for one of his age. He began by tossing the bundle of reeds against the mat, and quickly sweeping a hand across them to divide the resulting pile in two. He then gathered up the right pile and, in a blur of motion, flicked reed after reed from one hand into the other, stopping each time he was left with four or less in his right hand. As he did so, he would lodge the reed or reeds between two of his fingers, and he would begin the whole process once more, minus those ones already singled out.

Once all five fingers held reeds between them, he stopped to count how many there were. The resulting number seemed meaningful in some way. He chalked a mark on the slate – just a single line – and threw down the reeds to begin all over again.

It was a lengthy process, during which the Seer would occasionally scratch another line of chalk on the slate, either a solid line or a dash, which gradually built up into a series. Nico lost track of time and his eyes were already drooping when the Seer finally appeared to reach the end of his task, with six lines in all now scratched on the slate.

The old man squinted down at the results, muttering to himself.

'Ken-yoma no-shid,' he offered Ash. The Rshun nodded earnestly in response.

The Seer rambled on, outlining what he foresaw. When he paused again to study the slate, Nico whispered to Ash for a translation.

Ash was annoyed at this interruption, but a look into Nico's tired eyes seemed to soften him, enough to offer a brief explanation.

'I ask how we will fare on this vendetta. He tells me of thunder, shock – how some shocking event will lead to a great course of action. Now hush, he comes to the crucial part.'

'After shock, you will have two paths facing you,' the Seer announced in sudden, perfect Trade, his eyes glancing at Nico before returning to meet the intense gaze of Ash.

'By taking one path, you will fail in your task, though with no blame and much still to do… On the other, you will win through in the end with great blame, and nothing that would further you.'

Ash considered this divination. He cleared his throat. 'Is that all?'

The Seer smiled kindly, but did not reply.

They left soon after that, bowing and scraping their way towards the doorway. As Nico turned away from the Seer, he shouted after him, 'Boy!'

His call drew Nico back. The old man smacked his gums and squinted up at him.

'You did not ask me for a divination. It is your right, on this night.'

'I would not know what to ask you.'

The ancient farlander tilted his head. 'You do not wish to go off on this crazy venture of theirs.'

Nico glanced back to see if Ash was listening, but his master had already stepped outside. He looked again at the Seer, his mouth open but no words coming forth.

'You fear you are not ready for this vendetta your master takes you on. You suspect that you are out of your depth.'

It was true. All day, Nico had been struggling to face the thought that in the morning he would be leaving this hidden refuge in the mountains, this place that had begun to feel a little like home. And for what? To cross the sea to the city of Q'os, the very heart of the Empire, in order to kill the son of the Holy Matriarch no less, and with Nico himself still barely able to wield a blade. Sweet Ers, it set his blood racing just to think of it.

'Will you listen to my guidance, then?' inquired the Seer.

Nico cleared his throat. 'In truth, I'm not yet sure if I believe in all these things… divination and such. Your guidance may be somewhat wasted on me.'

'Know this, my young friend: the seeds of things show what fruits will come of them.'

Nico nodded, out of politeness rather than anything else.

'When the time comes to leave him, you must follow your heart.'

'What?'

The old man smiled, began packing away the paraphernalia before him.

Nico backed quickly to the doorway and stepped outside.

All around them lay the night's stillness; even the flow of the stream seemed more subdued to his ears. Master Ash stood in silence next to it, watching the water gathering and unfolding amongst the rocks.

Together they walked home through the semi-darkness.

'A strange fellow,' Nico commented.

Ash rounded instantly on his apprentice. 'You owe that old man more respect,' he snapped. But then he seemed to regret his outburst, and tried to say something else – an apology perhaps. He could not find the words though. Instead, he turned and continued onwards.

As the moons of Loss and Longing shone down to light their way, the two figures descended slowly, each lost in his own thoughts. Below them, the warm and welcoming lights of the monastery windows stood out clearly amidst a forest of silvery leaves.