The Sorcery Within

XVII

The Zyraii who spoke seemed to loom above the gathering of boys, voice frighteningly deep. He was a figure meant to be obeyed. Alemar and Elenya recognized the title; it meant man-maker.

"You will do as I say in all things," Wilan announced. "When I tell you to speak, you will speak. When I tell you to be quiet, you will be silent. I have the power to send you back to your mothers; thepulstrall can wait for you for another year. Do you understand?"

"Yes," some of the boys whispered.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes!"they replied.

"Good," Wilan stated crisply. He paced the line of boys, all of them in a neat line facing the oasis of Shom, several hundred yards distant. To either side, three other priests waited, imposing in their light blue robes, veils, and cowls, though not as intimidating as Wilan. Alemar and Elenya had been required to dispense with their veils, and they felt exposed in front of Wilan's authority. The men were all strangers.

"You have come here as children. You will leave as men. You will walk the path that your fathers walked, endure what they endured. You have been trained in the things a man must know. Now we will see if you have taken the lessons to heart. Can you hunt? Can you recite the laws? Do you understand the arts of war? Do you know your duty?"

The twins had never seen an Ah-no-ken who so resembled a warrior. For a moment, Wilan met each of their glances. They both had to look away.

"If you are slow-minded, I will find that out. If you are frightened, I will know. If you cheat, lie, whine, or seek to curry favor, I will expose you. You are not safe behind your mother's purdah. Every deficiency, every scrap of false pride, the leadenness of your feet, the awkwardness of your tongues, and the pallor of your young buttocks will be there for all to see. I am here to find your weaknesses.

"Becoming a man may not be all you think. You see it as your chance to ride with the warriors, take women to bed, win honor intorovet. But being a man is to play the Bu. If you shame yourself, your next life you may be born a goat. If you fail to provide for your family, you may be born to a mother with sour milk. God is watching, and judging. So, too, you must be able to judge yourself. This is the primary lesson of thepulstrall: Know yourself. Do not expect to leave here with the illusions you arrived with. Soon you will crave them back."

Wilan paused, his attitude becoming almost wistful. "You cannot be a boy again. This is perhaps the hardest lesson. There are no second chances."

By the end of his speech, Wilan had arrived at a pile of equipment. In the center stood a stack of small tents, scarcely more than windbreaks, with accompanying guy ropes and stakes, one for each boy. Near them were goat-hide flasks, uniform in size, filled with water. A few other accessories, such as small butchering knives, flint and steel, and coils of thin rope, had already been picked up by the three assistant Ah-no-ken, who proceeded to distribute them to the group. There were no real weapons, nor any food.

"God placed us on Tanagaran with only our hands and our wits," Wilan continued. "It is good to remember that, should all our material gains be lost, we still will have God's gifts." He nudged the tents. "Unlike our ancestors, you will have a few tokens of civilization. For this is the gift of your fathers, and should you be struck with poverty, at least you will have your heritage. Take these, in honor of him who begat you."

After each boy had been given his gear, he went to the stacks and took the tent off the top and whichever flask was nearest. No choices were allowed. Wilan waited until they had formed their line again.

"The first thing you must learn is that, to be a man, there are times to put family and commerce and amusement aside. A time when there is only you and the world. No one can help you, even if they stand at your side. Go." Wilan pointed to every direction. In every direction was open desert. "There is your fate. Go out to meet it. For the next three days, you will roam the land. Keep solitude. If you encounter one another by chance, take opposite paths. Survive, and return before dusk on the final day. You will have no company. You must see for yourselves that there is no one as lonely as a man."

The four adults abruptly turned and headed back toward the oasis. No opportunity for questions or protests was offered. The boys looked at one another but were afraid to speak. Finally Elenya kissed her brother, balanced her tent pack more comfortably on her shoulders, and set out for the west. Alemar shrugged and started eastward.

A few boys hesitantly followed suit, each in a somewhat different direction, until a little over half the group remained. Then suddenly all of them acted, walking quickly as if to atone for their lack of initiative. By the time Wilan and the other priests had reached the palms, the meeting place was barren.

At first, Elenya was pleased to be by herself. It was the first time she had been allowed to since she and Alemar had crossed the Ahrahikte range. It felt like freedom. Not quite, for she was deep within T'lil territory and escape was still not worth the risks, but the lack of observation was a genuine luxury.

The furnace in the sky had not yet stolen the morning's pleasantness. She put as much distance as she could between herself and the starting point, without taxing her body, and spent the heat of the day in a niche among some rocks, her tent fabric serving as an awning.

By the time Achird had burned its trail across the western sky, Elenya no longer felt quite so enthused. She was hungry. Soon she would be thirsty, too. The skins held about two gallons – enough to seem heavy during the morning walk, but in this climate, to drink less than that in one day would sap her vitality, particularly for one not born in the country. By strictest conservation, she could ration it and still not be totally enervated by the end of the three days, but realistically, she would have to find water. That was, of course, part of the point of this section of thepulstrall. Thanks to the oasis, the region possessed several springs, and enough underground moisture to support plants like theboro, but first she had to find one or the other. In the meantime, her stomach was empty. She had actually hoped she would find a snake occupying the niche she had chosen to rest in. Snakes were not nearly as fast as some other sources of food, accustomed as they were to being predators, and they provided a substantial amount of meat. She rolled up her awning and set out.

Dunes, outcroppings, and sandstone flats surrounded her, devoid of any obvious source of sustenance. As dusk settled in, she occasionally heard or saw small creatures scuttling over rocks, but trying to chase down any of them would be an exercise in futility, and even if she did catch one, the amount of edible meat would scarcely be enough to stave off her hunger pangs. She passed a patch ofelbraksh brush, its thin leaves curled almost into thorns until the next rain opened them again. She would probably be able to find apommyt nest somewhere within it, but the bird's eggs were so small they weren't worth tearing her skin or clothing for.

The sun was down, but the light still good, when she spotted a shrike wheeling in the sky. A few moments later, it dove out of sight into the distant sage. Seconds later, it fluttered off toward another stand ofelbraksh, a thrashing creature in its grip. Elenya smiled and headed toward the site.

She paused several hundred yards away, until she had seen the shrike fly off, then hurried to theelbraksh before it could return.

Just as she'd expected, the shrike had left its catch, a small but plump sand-runner, impaled on the thorns of the brush. The lizard still shuddered spasmodically. For a moment Elenya felt sorry for it. Its gruesome end might have been avoided if the shrike had possessed talons with which to slay quickly. But why regret a situation from which she benefited? If the shrike had been so well fed that it had decided to hunt more while the light was good, that was its misfortune. Elenya removed the sand-runner and absconded with it.

The bulbs Alemar had found were tucked into a cranny between two boulders, in the pocket of loose soil that had collected there. He returned three to the spot and carefully tamped the dirt down again, put eight in his sack, and bit down on the last. Sweet juice gushed over his tongue. Alemar had seen the variety in bloom near the river. It sported a cornucopia of flowers on a knee-high, thick stalk, multiple blooms and multiple colors on each stem. Ironically, the pollen would induce nausea if swallowed, but the bulbs were considered a delicacy. They seemed far too small to produce such a spectacular plant. All that remained above ground here had been one withered shred, just enough to alert Alemar to the presence of the bulbs. Those he had left would wait, if necessary, several years for enough rain to flower, though lesser rains would prompt root growth.

He sat on one of the boulders and watched the sky shift to deep oranges, pinks, purples, and reds. Flamboyant sunsets were the rule in Zyraii. He virtually ignored them now. But when he did stop to notice, he never failed to be overwhelmed. The desert did have its advantages.

The air was cooling rapidly. Before the light failed altogether, Alemar rose and searched for a campsite. The rocks were not only hard, they attracted creatures. The dunes not far away promised better.

Elenya spread out her tent and reached for the stakes. The hides were well sewn, she noticed. She wondered whether any of the girls of the T'krt had been the seamstress. It brought to mind one of the last nights before she had left for Shom:

"What is that?" Elenya asked. Meyr had just come out of the tent, carrying a small bundle.

The girl paused, eyes wide, mute. Meyr always did her best to avoid any sort of contact with her strange "parent." Finally, still without comment, she held out the object.

Elenya let it unfold, and recognized it. At the same time, Peyri stepped out, noticed the pair, and hurried forward. It was she who answered the question.

"It is a tent for thepulstrall. A boy will use it during part of the time he is at the oasis."

"What boy?"

"Any boy. It doesn't matter. She is required to make one."

"Why?"

Peyri hesitated. Suddenly she turned to Meyr and said, "Take it to Clan Mother. She is waiting."

Meyr nodded submissively, gingerly lifted the tent out of Elenya's hands, and scurried away.

Peyri sighed. "This is not a matter that men need be interested in."

"Is it forbidden?" Elenya said testily.

"No," Peyri admitted.

"Then tell me. I'm just curious. It's not as if I'm plotting something."

Peyri hesitated. Always, the internal debate. The women never were sure how to act with Elenya. A true Zyraii, no doubt, would not have asked his wife such a question. Finally, Peyri said, "Last year, Meyr began her bleeding."

Elenya raised her eyebrows. "So?"

"You don't understand? It is time for her to be a woman."

"Of course it is," Elenya said. "Is there something unusual about that?"

"I don't think being a woman in your land is the same as being a woman here."

"That's true."

Peyri continued, "To become a woman of the Zyraii, she is taught all she will need to be a wife. In the year after she starts to bleed, she must show that she can do all of these things alone. She must be able to cook both the common foods and the ritual ones. She must make a garment for every member of her family. She must cure hides. She must understand how to please her husband when she goes to his bed, and how to prevent the children from happening at the wrong time. The last thing is to make the tents for the boys to use in thepulstrall. Now she can be married. When the new men come back from Shom, she will be ready."

"Meyr is going to be married?" Elenya said, surprised.

"No. Shecan be married. A man must want her. Sesheer has been of age for two years now, but no one has asked to wed her."

Now, out in the desert, Elenya debated with herself as to which was the easier ritual: the abrupt but respected one demanded of the males or the drawn-out, unpublicized female one.

With her luck, she was glad not to have to endure both.

Task done, she squirmed feet first into the cloth cocoon she had created. She wondered who had ended up with Meyr's tent.

Alemar awoke to the sensation of something creeping down his neck. He sat up so fast he lifted the hide off one of its poles and collapsed the tent.

Sand trickled down his spine.

The moons told him it was a few hours before dawn. Nothing stirred, except the air flowing over the dune, bearing with it the fine spray of granules picked up from the earth. Small drifts had piled up against Alemar's sleeping body, until it had entered his collar. Irritated, he stood up and shook out his clothing.

He realized immediately what he had done. In this particular region, the prevailing winds always changed direction shortly after midnight. He had left the open end of his tent exposed to them. Wearily, disgusted with himself, he proceeded to uproot his shelter and reconstruct it facing the other way.

Dawn smelled imminent, but the sky offered only diamonds on black velvet. Elenya couldn't make herself sleep any longer. She began to tremble, though she was perfectly warm inside her blankets. She shifted until her head lay outside the tent, where she could stare upward and feel the faint kiss of dew landing on her face.

A billion stars, a billion grains of sand. And her. One woman, man, man/woman. Who was she? A bastard child on a quest, sent by a father she had scarcely ever seen. One half of a set of twins.

She couldn't understand why she wasn't happy to be away from the Zyraii. She didn't belong with them. They all treated her like an aberration. The strange man with tits. An embarrassment. Did Lonal really think that the other tribes would play along with the farce? How could the T'lil themselves have accepted it so blithely? She wished she were God; it was handy to have people obey you to the point of denying their own sight and touch.

The jumping rat could derive enough moisture from the dew and the seeds it consumed to never need a true drink. That was the sort of creature that belonged here. Not a woman.

She reached into her collar and pulled out her necklace. The jewel was agonizingly faint, a small green flicker now and then. Alemar was miles away. But at least he was there.

Alemar felt the tiny pulse of heat on his chest and knew at once it was the amulet. It said nothing articulate, only that there was someone else thinking of him. He hung on to the knowledge, the faint chitters and rustles of dawn desert life failing to bring him out of his soliloquy.

A new day. Soon it would be a new month, a new year. Would he still be here in the desert? Or would there be a path suddenly open in front of him, making his course of decision clear? He knew what had been expected of him when he departed for this country. He could guess at Lonal's plans for him. He hadn't resisted either influence on his life. That struck him as strange. He should have some idea whathe wanted to do with himself. He was over twenty years of age now; yet still he let others lead him.

What were the choices? To plow ahead with his and Elenya's original quest, and ignore the lessons in prudence they had gained from the Zyraii? To return home empty-handed? He hadn't felt such lack of direction since his mother had died.

It startled him to think of her. She wasn't so long dead that he forgot her often. No, what surprised him was that he had not recently felt the disconnectedness her passing had created. No one could replace her as an individual, but the sense of a home, a place he belonged, had not been fretting him. Foreign though it was, he now had a family and, transient though it was, a home. He didn't know whether to be grateful or to grieve. He realized he had been touched irrevocably by Zyraii.

He got up. The next year would come soon enough. Best to take this day all by itself first.