Schisms

by V. A. Jeffrey

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was a long, hot journey but Anet managed to entertain herself by relentlessly questioning Yemi and he did not seem to mind. He was amused and obliged her. He told her of all his travels from the far north and his dealings with two northern tribes, the Ostrites who worshiped an ice and wind god and the Petra who worshiped Airend-Ur, by a different name. He recounted his treks through the western mountains, of seeing the secret rivers that flowed from there, his journey to the Great Ridge Lands in the vast rift canyon where it was said that one could stand on one side of the rift without seeing the other side. He told her of the dark forests below in the mighty gorge that hid the mysterious lands of the Valierite peoples. There were lands in the Great Ridge engulfed in forests and great monstrous beasts called bullbears. He told her of his travels to the great steppes east of Zapulia where the unknown wild tribes often intermarried, raided the villages, travailed north and fought with the Ostrites and Petrites, and were expert horsemen. He told her of strange, giant plants in his homeland that trapped and ate animals and humans if they could get them and of massive snake like-vines in the woods of the far east that would grab and choke any creature that came too close, swallowing them whole. There was the Dragon of the Llordis sea who demanded tribute before he allowed anyone to pass and once they really did throw a murderous thief overboard for the dragon to eat and were then allowed passage. There were many other things he spoke of, both wondrous and dark. It invigorated her imagination to think how vast the world was. Finally, though, her thoughts turned back to the dark parts of his tales. She glanced at his chest, thinking of the scar he'd once shown her.

  “Your scar. How did it happen?” Yemi looked at Mother Berenice. Mother Berenice had listened quietly to all this and did not interfere. She remained silent still.

  “I was in Yallas-of-the-Valley, purchasing spices at a merchant's stall. It was night. Men came that night looking for human sacrifices, posing as mendicants of some minor temple. I will not go into detail as later you may come to know many terrible things done for blood-thirsty gods, if you live long enough. There were many fresh corpses that had been thrown down the steps of the temple already when I was taken there. It was horrifying and the same was done to me. But men found me, men from a far away land and they were on a mission, I found out later, to save many people who had been taken.”

  “But how did you survive that?”

  “You see, there was a moment when my whole soul cried out to any god who would listen, a deep soul cry that is difficult to explain, born of terror and agony when you are given up, the moment before you die. I believe He heard my distress and His power kept me alive, a sort of half-death for a little while. It is a terrible experience for you can feel the pain of your heart being taken from you, torn out. These men took those of us they thought they could still save and with their skill of healing and wondrous machines they gave us new hearts.” At this he opened his shirt tunic again and just beside his scar with the skin stitched together like a bad patchwork quilt he opened a large flap of tough skin. Just below the flap of his breast she could see an odd, red thumping thing; a hole was in his chest with a criss-crossing of glowing tubes of blood and attached therein, a metal thing. His heart. It frightened her. She started to wonder if he was cursed.

  “It is not demonism or witchcraft little one, but high medicine. From men of the Far Eastern lands. People demonize the wrong things today. There are times I feel as if people who see my new heart feel that I should have died instead of being saved by a machine. I am a freak of nature. Sadly, among many of my own people I have become an object of reproach. They fear me and say that I have a demon. So, I travel constantly these days. Always I am looking for those whose minds are open.” The tone in his voice had changed from animated to pensive.

  “What is that?” She whispered.

  “A machine heart. The first of its kind, I am told.” Anet was astonished at this revelation for the entire day and this finally rendered her speechless. She remained silent, thinking of all he said. He was saved from a demon by a machine. But did not God save? Why did He not simply make him a new heart? She would have to ask Mother Berenice because this confused her. Still, he was fascinating and did not seem daunted by the terrible thing done to him. He fought to survive and he was not bitter nor did she hear him curse the gods or the First Pillar for this. Was this the strength Mother Bernice said was needed for the faithful? How could she be strong like that? She would pray for strength like Yemi's in tonight's prayer. She would also pray that horrible things would not happen to her or the people she loved and hoped God listened. She was quiet that evening as they broke for camp, as the wild rams grunted and lept upon the crags on far away hills and cliffs in the distance. It reminded her, distantly, of the blowing of the horns for Night Prayers back home.

  They slept under the vast sky full of stars glittering like precious jewels. There were the soft grunts of the camels and asses, a few whistling calls between the guides getting ready for the first watch and the flickering, licking blossoms of the fire. They ate dried meat and bread, drank water and a hole was dug away from camp for toilet. After eating and relieving themselves they all went down for sleep. Anet watched as Yemi and a few of the men took the first watch. She had seen and learned many things that could not be learned from books, scrolls, tablets and idle gossip. She had once heard of machines or the “tinkering things”, as Instructress Helga called them, here and there. Most people looked upon them with disdain, even as an evil. Once she thought she saw a tiny, tinkering bird of gold in Mother Berenice's study room. It had flown in with a message, a duty usually reserved for falcons. But it was gold like precious jewelry with little sapphires for eyes. A marvelous thing! It had a tiny perch in a small golden cage in the study. She never told Mother Berenice that she saw it. Most people did not like these things, seeing them as evil magic but the scions did not see them as such. Only Helga, who came from the very lands that some of these things were still known to be built, disapproved of them. Not because of evil magic but because she said they made people lazy. And that they were extraordinarily expensive.

  “I have seen many a man become soft and fat as a pregnant woman using all manner of machines, until his own godly-made machine could not work any longer. A shame for a man to forget himself so! They cost many a copper that could be put to better use!” Anet could hear her stern, scolding voice in her head. Instructress Helga had said that people began to dislike them because during the Veiled Age, at the height of their use, they made people not want to work and some of their uses enslaved innocent people and this fact morphed, told and retold through the ages, was finally twisted into the saying: “Machines are the works of demons and monsters who want to enslave and destroy their fellow man.” Instructress Iddina also defied this superstitious reasoning. She said that the machines themselves were not wrong but it was how they were used that became wrong. Much like a machete, a sword or even a ship, a machine was a thing, not good, not wicked. Each could be useful for good purposes or used for evil ones. In fact, there was an old scroll that Iddina once read to her and the other young sisters. A crumbling thing now gone to ash it was so old, but it was about the first Red King and the great inventions people made during his reign. But it was only one scroll. One of the scribal scions made a permanent copy of it on clay tablets. Most information about the Red Kings and the things they did was forbidden in Hybron. Knowledge of them had been destroyed by the Ainash and also the priests of the temple of Hec. Sometimes Anet thought the Red Kings were a fairy tale but the holy book itself mentioned them and even a few of these kings put their own writings in the Holy Aishanna. And only the scions she was told, had the entire Aishanna of God. Most others of the faith only had parts of it, the “proper” parts. Anet felt her eyes finally growing heavy with sleep and she finally fell asleep into dreams. Dreaming of that strange, metal beating heart surrounded by waves of blood as high and violent around her as a stormy sea and out of these the str
ange man on the voyage rose with robes as white and bright as stardust, riding the great golden ship with silvery sails and he had the look of the sons of the gods and he reached out his hand to her but she grew afraid and did not reach for it but drew back and found herself drowning.