by Teri Barnett
Bethany closed her eyes and again saw the men dragging her husband’s body from the cave they were excavating. If only there had been a small flicker of life left, she could have saved him. The healer in her was strong, but even she could not surpass death.
“Are you all right, Beth?” Ian asked.
When she didn’t answer, he hugged her tighter and stroked her cheek. He tilted her face to his; and she heard his breath catch at the sight of her face. It was a full moon, and she literally glowed with the light it cast, her hair radiating like a halo around her head. “You’re on fire,” he whispered huskily.
Bethany looked at him. Realizing what he was saying, she wrapped her hair into a tight knot, fastening it in place with the tortoise comb they had found earlier. One of the signs of a Knower was that they drew the moon’s light from its source with every fiber of their being. The night’s glow, combined with the fire, permeated her translucent skin. “I wasn’t thinking,” she murmured.
“Don’t be. It’s part of your heritage. You’re beautiful.” He lowered his mouth to hers.
For a brief moment, she considered what it would be like to kiss him. Before their lips could meet, she pulled away. “I can’t do this, Ian.” She looked up at him and their eyes met. “I love you, but not in the way you want me to.”
“I’ll take your love any way you’ll give it,” he replied, moving closer again.
She turned away, focusing her gaze on the fire. “Ian, I—”
Ian pulled back. “Sorry, Beth.” He ran a hand through his shoulder length auburn hair and shook his head. “I was lost in the moment.”
Changing the subject, he continued. “So, what do you suppose all of this means—the Book of Eitel, the man and woman from the Earth plane, the particles of bone and ash?”
“I don’t know. It seems like all of our legends are coming alive with this find. My guess would be the bones belong to this Elizabeth and Michael. The myths say no one can survive traveling between the planes, and I saw a fire rise up around them at the end of my vision.” Bethany shook her head. It was inconceivable, even to her—someone steeped in legend and lore—to imagine that people could actually travel between the various planes of existence. If true, a world of possibilities were opening before her very eyes as she imagined what might be found. No. Best to keep both feet on the ground. It was the only way to solve this mystery. “Maybe I’m wrong about the box and its contents. What do you think?”
Ian met her eyes. “In all the years I’ve worked with you, Bethany M’Doro, your Knowing has never been wrong. We need to get that box open, if we can find a way to do it without anyone dying. The manuscript will answer our questions.”
“I don’t think we should tamper with it until we’ve put more information together.” Bethany picked up her heavy clay cup from where it rested near the fire and took a sip of hot bitters. She inhaled deeply of the orange and cinnamon scent. “We should find one of the old Weavers. There has to be one who can spin the stories of Eitel for us.”
Ian nodded. “They could hold a clue.”
“That’s what I was thinking. Especially the ones about the Eitellan’s ways of worship.” She looked up at Ian. He was studying her closely. “There’s something I didn’t mention to you before when I was reading the box. In my vision, Elizabeth arrived in a kiyolo. It looked quite a bit like the one we excavated earlier this cycle.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m telling you now.” Bethany shrugged. “I didn’t want to alarm the workers. Considering how superstitious they are about the Eitellans, I was afraid of scaring them more than I already had.”
“I guess I’ll forgive you that one, Beth.” He smiled. “You know, I’m beginning to wish I had paid closer attention to my grandmother when I was a child. She knew all of the stories of the time when this sect ruled Paran.” Ian rubbed his hands near the fire, warming them. “Do you know any Weavers?”
“No, but I would imagine my father does. When we head back tomorrow for supplies and to check on Sarah, I’ll talk with him.”
Chapter 2
The next morning saw the sun shining brightly, chasing away the stormy haze of the previous night. The large conifers dripped sap mixed with rain, their clean aroma filling the air around the excavation site. It was the sound of this gentle rhythm, hitting the roof of her tent, that roused Bethany. The last snatches of her dreams worked through to the forefront of memory and she saw the woman, Elizabeth, again.
Bent over a cooking fire in a small wooden structure, Elizabeth stirred a pot of soup. The door pushed open and a man walked in, closing it gently behind him. It was the same man, Connor, who had given her the tortoise comb.
“Evening, wife,” he called as he hung his hat on a peg near the door. In two strides, he was at her side. He leaned over and placed a light kiss on her cheek. She didn’t turn toward the man, but only kept her attention on the meal she was preparing.
While she cooked, Elizabeth kept glancing at a small timepiece on the fireplace mantel. When the hour struck, she wiped her hands on her apron and slowly took it off.
“Is dinner ready?” Connor asked from where he sat in a heavy chair near the fire.
“Connor Jessup, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Connor leaned forward, his expression closed. “What is it?”
“I’m leaving you.” She wiped at her nose with the back of her hand. “Dinner’s in the pot.”
“What do you mean, you’re leaving me?” He studied her for a moment before continuing. “Running off with that silver miner, aren’t you?”
Elizabeth looked away.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” He stood and walked over to a rough-sawn cedar cupboard. Throwing the door open, he grabbed a glass bottle filled with light brown liquid. He returned to his chair and plopped himself down, taking a long drink.
Elizabeth walked into another room and came back carrying a small bag. “This marriage is over. Take care, Connor,” she called as she softly closed the door.
Connor ignored her and continued to drink, keeping his gaze focused on the fire. “You can’t leave, Elizabeth. I still love you,” he whispered long after she was gone.
Bethany opened her eyes and stared at the rough oiled fabric of her enclosure. So, Elizabeth left behind a husband when she traveled here. Perhaps this Connor Jessup held the answer to the woman’s presence in Paran and the Plane of Keilah, and her possession of the Book of Eitel. But how was she going to find him?
Bethany emerged from the heavy-blanketed opening of her tent. It was still early and only a few of the workers had risen. Carefully, she made her way to the stream that ran at the foot of their camp. Fallen branches made up a series of steps, helping her keep her footing on the muddy bank.
Once reaching the water, she turned to face the north and kneeled down. Raising her arms to the sky, she began to pray, “Mother of All, hold me safe in the palm of your hand. Bring me inner peace. Teach me tolerance of others. Teach me self-less love. Dear Mother, guide me on the path of enlightenment.” Bethany lowered her arms and touched her forehead to the water. Standing, she brushed the dirt from her knees and started to walk along the edge of the stream. She pulled the hair comb out of the soft leather pouch she wore around her waist and ran her fingers over it. Again and again, she caressed the tortoise shell and its carvings.
She froze. In her mind’s eye, she saw Elizabeth Jessup once more. Elizabeth was standing in a cave, but it wasn’t a kiyolo. It was different somehow, with heavy timbers bracing the sides and ceiling. The man Bethany saw arriving in Paran with Elizabeth handed her the same silver box Ian had found yesterday.
“One of the men came across it when he was digging last night,” he commented, turning it over in his hand. “Strange, it looks like silver, but it’s not Nevada silver. The patina’s too dark.” He shook the box. “Some sort of book is i
n here, but I can’t read the writing. Must be foreign or something.”
Elizabeth eyed the box possessively. “You are going to give it to me aren’t you, Michael?” Her voice was a soft caress.
Michael smiled. “You are a greedy one, Lizzy. Of course, that’s something I always admired about you.” He handed the box over to her outstretched hands. “I went looking for the workman who found it, to see if there were any more treasures to be had.” He shook his head. “He was stone cold dead when I found him. Doc said it was his heart.”
“Peace to you today, Bethany.”
Bethany stared straight through Ian as he approached her, trying to make some sense of what she had just seen.
“Are you all right?”
“Y-yes. Of course. I’m fine.” She blinked her eyes hard, clearing her sight. “Are you ready to head for Paran?”
“The wagon’s loaded.” Ian bent his tall frame down near the stream and splashed cold water over his face. It ran down his auburn hair and stained his bright red tunic. “We’re just waiting for you.”
The pair worked their way back up the side of the embankment to where the wagon was held. Two dohas, large four-legged temperamental animals with thick muscles and even thicker fur, were harnessed to the front end with one of the workers, Thomas, astride the largest of the two animal’s backs. With one hand, he held onto the steering rein; the other hand was wrapped tight around the doha’s long, coarse black fur.
“You had better get a move on, I don’t know how much longer I can hold her steady!” Thomas called out as he spotted Ian and Bethany.
They hurried to the back of the vehicle. Ian started to offer Bethany a hand, but she had already situated herself on the padded seat. Ian sighed and took his seat on the opposite bench. “You don’t always have to be so independent, you know.”
Bethany looked at Ian as if she only now noticed his presence. You’d think I was eight instead of twenty-eight. “You really should be used to me by now, Ian.” She rose up in her seat for a moment and called to the driver. “We’re ready, Thomas!”
With a sudden jerk that sent her back into her seat, the dohas began to push the massive bones of their bodies in unison, pulling the heavy wheeled wood wagon behind them. Since the Digger’s site was located only half a sun’s ride from the town, they would arrive there by the mid-day meal.
Bethany leaned over, resting her arms across her legs. Absently, she rolled the hem of her patchwork blouse between thumb and forefinger, thinking of the vision she’d had at the stream.
“So, tell me, Beth,” Ian interrupted her thoughts, “have you come up with any more details about the box?”
“If you mean have I been in the Knowing yet today, no I haven’t,” she answered, a little more sharply than she had intended. She shifted on the bench, trying to gain some measure of comfort. The road was well laid with smooth heavy stones, but the stride of the dohas was jerky and unpredictable and caused the large cart to lurch with a strange rhythm. Her stomach cramped, and she knew it was nearing the time for her menses. That alone made her reconsider the possibility of taking Ian as a lover, as the act of love helped ease the pain of a woman’s monthly cycle. She looked at him. The wide brimmed hat he wore shadowed his light blue eyes. She had probably hurt his feelings by answering so harshly, though he’d never admit it. He pampered her too much. She wanted to be left to do what she wanted, whether it was traveling with the Diggers or staying home with Sarah.
“I’m sorry I spoke so rudely, Ian.”
“That’s all right.”
She leaned against the back of the bench. For as long as she could remember, once her gift as a Knower revealed itself, everyone expected her to always be in the Knowing. They’ll never understand the mental and physical toll it takes.
“You know I only go there when I need to or when my job with the expedition requires it. It’s not a constant state I care to live in. I prefer to stay grounded.”
Just then, a low tree branch came up behind Ian and knocked his hat free before Bethany had a chance to warn him. She started laughing as he made a grab for it, catching it just before it flew out of his reach. The laughter was exactly what she needed to ease her nerves. “Oh, Ian, this find has me on edge. I’m seeing things without being in the Knowing. I’m not used to that.”
Ian glanced up. “Tell me what you’ve seen. Perhaps I can help make some sense of it.”
“Not yet. I need some more time with my thoughts before I try to interpret them for you. For anyone.” Including myself.
Bethany looked out over the hilly countryside. She thought of her child, and the girl’s love of the outdoors. “I really miss Sarah. You know, I’ve been thinking. I want to bring her back with us after this visit.”
“A site’s not the place for children. There’s too much trouble she could get into.”
Bethany bristled. “Sarah is well behaved, Ian. She wouldn’t be any trouble. Besides, she’s seven now and I need to begin teaching her how to use the Knowing, as well as how to heal.”
Ian took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Bethany felt him fighting something inside himself. Anger, perhaps. She couldn’t be sure, as Ian wasn’t one to show his temper. “All right, Bethany,” he conceded. “Whatever you want.”
The sun was high in its path when the wagon approached Paran. Bethany leaned forward, looking past Ian, watching for her home. Sure enough, not too far from where they were, she spied the small, flat stone structure. Sitting on the front stoop was Father. Thomas called the dohas to a halt and, before either he or Ian could disembark, Bethany was rushing down the side of the vehicle. Quickly, she stepped onto the rim of the wheel, then the spoke. She landed with a splash as her boot hit a mud puddle. Laughing, she ran the rest of the way home, her blonde hair blazing behind her.
Then, just as quickly, she pulled up short as she saw what her father was doing. In front of him, he held the wooden effigy of a small child. Bethany’s heart leapt, thinking of the pain suffered by the parents of one so young.
Abraham Stendi was a carver of totems. When a person died, the family commissioned him to forever capture the form so those still alive would not forget them. These figures were used as structural members of the people’s houses. Often, an adult’s form replaced a post that had held up the roof. A child’s might flank the fireplace. This would remind them that though a loved one was dead in body, their spirit still remained nearby.
“Oh, Papa, not a child.” She dropped to her knees beside him. This was the hardest of all totems for him to carve. Abraham’s deeply creased face appeared even older this day, the bright sunlight accentuating the wrinkles.
Abraham didn’t hear or see his daughter. He only murmured some unintelligible words.
“Papa? I can’t understand what you’re saying.” She glanced around, the sun hurting her eyes. A sense of foreboding filled her. “Papa, where’s Sarah?”
“My poor, poor baby.”
A chill ran through Bethany. Ian walked up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. “What’s going on, Beth?”
“I don’t know.” She looked closer at the totem and her stomach lurched. Bethany wrested the carving from her father’s hands. No. It couldn’t be.
“Sarah!”
Chapter 3
“Tell me what happened. Papa, where’s my daughter?”
Abraham sat on his heels and rocked back and forth. Bethany grabbed him by the upper arms and forced him to look into her face.
“Bethany. You’ve come home,” he whispered.
Bethany swallowed hard, fighting the wave of panic that threatened her composure. Surely there was a reasonable explanation for the totem. Maybe it was another child that just happened to look like her Sarah.
“Where is she? Where’s Sarah?” She gently shook him. “Tell me, Papa. Why are you making this totem? Who’s it for?”
“
Can’t you tell? It’s our baby.” He looked down at his hands. “Am I so old and inept you can’t make out my carvings anymore?”
Bethany fell backward against Ian’s legs. He caught her and, stooping down, held her close against his chest. “What happened, Abraham?”
“Don’t know. Don’t know. She was playing outside, then she was gone.” He rubbed his eyes hard with the backs of his swollen knuckles. “Gone, like a butterfly. I think she flew away. So pretty. So pretty. I knew this would happen someday. The Mother Goddess wanted her for her own.”
Bethany looked at her father, tears clouding her vision. “No.” She pivoted around, and her eyes met Ian’s. “No!” she screamed and wrenched herself free of his embrace. Jumping to her feet, she ran into the woods near the dwelling. “Sarah!” she screamed. “Sarah! It’s Momma! Come to me baby!” The only sound that answered was her own voice, echoing off the stony mountains in the distance.
“I’m fixing you some bitters. It’ll help you to sleep,” Ian said.
Bethany stared at him through red, teary eyes. “You can’t be serious,” she whispered. “I won’t sleep until I know where my daughter is.”
Ian stoked the fire, heating the orange flavored bitters until it steamed. “This should calm you. You’ll be no good to anyone if you’re not rested.”
“I don’t need rest. I need answers,” she answered bluntly. Rising, she walked over to the fire and picked up the iron tongs. She used them to turn over a log, then hung them back on their hook. Simple tasks were all she could handle right now.
Bethany sat back down, letting her gaze drift about the room. From the heavily beamed open ceiling hung the dried herbs she and Sarah had gathered during the season of harvest, the hottest months of the year. Next to the wide planked wood door sat Sarah’s small doll, one she’d had since she was a baby. She picked it up and cradled it close; the clothes were well worn and the doll threadbare from so many washings, from being loved so well. Everywhere she looked, she saw her daughter and sensed her presence.