A cheer went up.
Again WoNa raised her hand for silence. “In the ancient teachings of the Atrilaasu, every member of the tribe must pass from child to adult at the age of Ettainni. This is done through the Ceremony of Drango.” The Oracle touched her heart. “Brielle AsTar, are you prepared to accept your responsibilities as an adult member of the Atrilaasu Dansmen?”
“I am, WoNadahem.”
“Ira Raast?”
“I am, WoNadahem Mardree.”
Narrtep repeated the question. Esán and Torgin each affirmed their willingness to be adopted as Atrilaasu Dansmen.
Strom posed the question to Seval. Brie watched the boy blush. His stuttered ‘I am’ was barely a whisper, but his eyes were shining as he smiled at Nichi.
A wave of WoNa’s hand sent the Dansmen scurrying in several directions. Women hustled younger children off to bed. Men and older children faded into the night shadows. Strom and Narrtep remained with WoNa. A serious quiet settled over their faces. Brie felt Ira fidget behind her. Torgin rested a hand on her shoulder. Seval gulped and moved closer. Esán remained calm and steady beside her.
WoNa smiled. “You honor us, ConDria and companions. I will explain the Ceremony of Drango. At the time of Ettainni, Dansmen are presented with tunics and boots made from the hide of the DerTahan drango, an immense iguana-like creature that roams throughout the desert. Its hide, though soft and supple after tanning, is tough and almost impenetrable. Taccus needles cannot pierce it. Nor can the sting of a roscipon, Fera Finnero’s most deadly insect. It will even deflect the blow of a knife. Your tunics will be made for you individually. Your TorPan will sew you into it. Each stitch made is done so with a prayer for your safety and well-being.
“The history of this ceremony is as ancient as the desert sands. When the time draws near, both boys and girls are prepared for the hunt. All Atrilaasu must be trained as warriors. All must protect the tribe in times of need. Finding and killing a drango is part of the training for this adult responsibility.
“Once the drango is found, the initiate must mount it. The knife of the TorPan is used for the kill. A quick thrust of the knife through the brain will drop the creature in an instant. You will be excused from the hunt, however, because time will not allow for it to take place.
“The full history of how the skins are collected and presented must wait for another time. The Unfolding presses us to move quickly.”
Brie’s daydreaming came to an end when Nichi stuck her head in the tent. “WoNa will see you soon.” She placed a tray of food on the table and left.
Brie ran a brush through her curls, washed her face, and fastened her beaded headband in place. She shrugged into a cream-colored blouse and sleek pants the soft green of water at first light. The leather tunic draped over the chair awed her. Soft and supple and the color of wheat, it slipped over her head and shoulders and formed to her upper body like a glove. Fitting smoothly over her hips, the tunic skirt was cut diagonally from just above her right knee to just below mid-thigh on her left leg. She picked up her boots and pulled them on. The pliant drango leather hugged her legs to just above the knee. The final ceremonial gift—the knife that had been used to cut the thread after the last stitch in her tunic had been sewn—lay on the chair. The sheath, also drango hide, had been stained a dark, warm tan and attached to a belt that fastened with a rounded tooth. She grasped the satiny bone that formed the handle and withdrew the blade. WoNa had told her the gift of a knife was a gift of life. Wish I knew more about how to use it. She replaced it and ran a hand over her tunic. Also wish I could see myself in a mirror .
Sighing, she picked up a piece of flatbread and smothered it with taccus jelly. Now that Esán is with us and a rescue is no longer needed, what is our next step? Somehow I don’t think it will be returning to Myrrh. She took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. Perhaps my meeting with WoNadahem Mardree will provide the answer.
Esán stood at the edge of the oasis, which he had learned at last night’s celebration was fed by an underground lake. Around the basin, the Atrilaasu were already about the business of living, doing as much as possible before the heat of midday sent them inside. Women and children weeding gardens and irrigating; a potter working at her wheel in an open tent; another woman making soap; men sharpening knifes, making tools, and building household items—all were busy assuring that life at Eissua Oasis would prosper.
He followed the progress of a herd of goats around the lake to the edge of the outcropping. The waterfall descending from a rocky opening created a misty rainbow above the lake’s surface. The first rays of morning sunlight picked out individual droplets that sparkled like diamonds, then lost their distinctiveness in their splashing arrival in the plunge pool below.
As much as he loved the peace of the early morning, he knew it would not last. He hoped his meeting with WoNadahem Mardree would provide some much needed answers, especially for Seval. She could help untangle the boy’s mind. He felt sure of it.
For a moment, he let his mind wander back over last night’s celebration, then looked down at his drango tunic and boots and touched the knife at his side. After he and his friends had received their vestments, they had gathered to pledge their loyalty to the Atrilaasu and to the successful conclusion of The Unfolding. What an honor!
A red fox exited a dark opening in the outcropping, bounded to his side, and looked up at him from golden eyes. Giving a sharp yip, it trotted back the way it had come. Esán followed.
The fox led him down a short tunnel that opened into cave about twice the size of the small one in Oche Cavern in the Dojanack Mountains on Myrrh. WoNadahem sat on a low, cushioned seat by a fire, the only light in the space. He realized with a start that she could not see.
“Come closer, Esán,” her alto voice hummed. “Let my fingers learn your face.”
“You’re blind,” he whispered.
The small snake curling around her wrist whistled. She smiled. “Only my eyes do not see, Esán. My heart, my spirit, my hands, my nose…they all see.”
He knelt. Her fingers traced his face, sensing, he felt sure, more than a sighted person would see. She touched his heart. The crystal on her forehead flared blue and settled back into the pale orange of early morning.
“Sit, Bearer of the Seeds of Carsilem, we have much to discuss.” She ran a hand along the red fox’s back. “Please, Yaro, guard the entrance.”
Esán watched it depart, wondering at the miracles of life. “You know Yaro, the Pentharian?”
Her head turned the direction the fox had taken. “We spent much of the night talking. Pentharian are most interesting creatures, are they not?”
Esán waited for her sightless eyes to find him again. “WoNadahem Mardree…”
The expression on her face stopped him. The snake slithered up her sleeve and reappeared on her shoulder. She turned her head. Its forked tongue sniffed her lips. Firelight danced in her saffron and blue eyes. “I am called WoNa, Esán.” She released a hissed breath. “Do you know you are from the planet of Tao Spirian?”
He started to shake his head, caught himself, and answered, “I did not know.”
“You are a full-blood and carry dual seeds. You are the one long awaited by your people.”
“What is the Seed of Carsilem? No one will tell me.”
“They do not tell because words do not express it well. It is like trying to explain the spirits of the desert or the one Myrrhinian’s call Emit. What I can tell you is that you, Esán, hold the potential for greatness. And it is not only the power you carry. Give me your hand.” She took it in hers and ran a finger over the surface of his palm. “You suffer from a disease passed to you via the genetic patterns of your ancestry. It can only be healed on Tao Spirian.” The finger drew a pattern on his skin. “You must not return to Thera. If you do, the disease will kill you.” Her strange eyes closed. “Your power draws your enemies to you. You must find your father. He can protect you.” She opened her eyes and placed her palm on hi
s.
A current tingled throughout his body. An image formed…a blue heron in pursuit of… It faded. “How do I return to Myrrh, WoNa? My father is there. And the Evolsefil Crystal waits. I must return it to the Cave of Canedari.”
“You must seek the portal on the shores of the Sea of Trinuge. The one in Fera Finnero is guarded. Your friends must accompany you. Do not leave them. You are their savior, and they are yours.”
The snake hissed. She dropped his hand. “Ah. Your friend, Brielle, will be here soon. One more thing, Esán… Seval is in grave danger. If he regains his memory, it will increase his danger and yours. But it must be his decision. Bring him and your friends, Torgin and Ira, to me. Ask Torgin to bring his flute. As soon as Brielle and I are finished working, we will meet together with Seval to help him decide his fate.”
Brie skirted the edge of the lake and followed the red fox to a cave entrance in the outcropping. Esán emerged as she arrived. A mix of emotions played on his face. She wondered what he had learned. He gave her a quick hug and stepped aside to let her pass. “She is quite amazing, Brielle. She’s blind.”
“I know. Don’t tell Seval why the Oracle wants to see him.”
Esán laughed out loud. “I can’t keep any secrets around you.” He sobered. “I won’t tell him. See you later.” He started to leave, then looked over his shoulder. “She says to call her WoNa.”
The red fox at Brie’s feet yipped. She waved at Esán and looked down at the shifted Pentharian. “Lead on, Yaro.”
When she arrived in the cave, it appeared to be empty. Standing still, she shut her eyes and allowed her senses to define her surroundings…the smell of smoke, the touch of air flowing in from outside, the sound of her own breath. She could not feel another presence, and yet…The Star of Truth tingled in anticipation and then began to throb. She opened her eyes. A hand reached from the darkness into the glowing light of the fire. Tiny eyes gleamed red. A forked-tongue flicked her cheek. The snake hissed a series of wheezy syllables and withdrew beneath the sleeve of a teal blue kcalo.
“When I am seated, Brielle, please kneel in front of me.” The voice, which sounded like the low notes Torgin played on his flute, moved around the fire. The tall Danswoman stepped into its light and lowered onto her cushioned seat.
Brie knelt and closed her eyes again. WoNa’s fingers drifted over her face, tracing its structure—the eyebrows, the eyes, the length of her nose, the curve of her lips and chin—before they floated back to rest in her lap. Brie sat back on her heels and waited.
“So much to read in you and so little time. Sit here by my knee.” WoNa patted a cushion beside her. “The changes have been many, and you wonder who you are. You are yourself, Brielle. You learned that on the Throne of ReNin RepPosu on Myrrh.” The rich tenor of her voice filled the cave.
Astonishment rustled through Brie like a shift in the wind. “You know about ReNin RepPosu? I saw you. I saw the sands of DerTah and the planet of RewFaar. Some of it terrified me. Some of it filled me with the desire to do the best I can do. Seeing the future…” she shuddered.
WoNa leaned closer. “Seeing the future is a huge responsibility. What have you learned, Brielle?”
Brie brought the palms of her hands together and pressed her index fingers against her lips. The fire crackled. She lowered her hands. “I think living in the future is as unrewarding as living in the past. Being focused right now in this moment is vital, or you will miss the richness of it.”
The Danswoman’s mouth curved into a smile. “Almiralyn would be proud. You do know, of course, that the future is made by our actions today. What you saw, what I see as the Oracle…can change in an instant.” Again the snake contributed his hiss to the conversation. WoNa nodded and touched Brie’s cheek. “We have things to do before we can help Seval. Please ask Yaro to join us.”
29
ConDra’s Fire
DerTah
N omed had not slept well, and the turning had been unbearably long. He didn’t trust Lorsedi. Wolloh was keeping his game close to his chest. Nissasa was as dangerous as a Fire ConDra. And TheLise was taking too many risks. He paced across his room, muttering about the stupidity of women. Not only that… Esán had disappeared with that servant. What was his name? Seval? Even more aggravating was Wolloh’s lack of concern. The High DiMensioner preferred to focus on the danger within his own domain.
Although he could not find fault with his mentor’s desire to deal with Nissasa and Gidtuss, he chafed at not knowing the whereabouts of his nephew. For the most part, Esán could take care of himself, but he was still young and inexperienced.
Pacing to the door, he yanked it open and strode down the hall. He and TheLise had a date, one he dreaded. It had become blatantly apparent that both Lorsedi and Wolloh were happy to sacrifice her to the Fire ConDra, as it were. In theory he agreed with the plan they had devised, but he hated to place a woman in danger. He almost laughed. Since when did he care about women? It was TheLise he cared about. Da’amit all. He had been so careful to maintain a distance, to be a cad, to keep everyone at arm’s length, and then Esán came along, and now TheLise. What’s wrong with me anyway?
He glared at the Dreelas’ door, schooled his expression and his mind to acceptance, and knocked. A brief pause and she stood regarding him, a half smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She looked luscious in a sleek dress of coppery silk with a neckline scooped low in the front and a back that was almost nonexistent. Sculpting every curve of her body, it left little to the imagination.
He kept his voice bland. “Are you ready?”
She stepped into the hall and closed the door. The smell of her perfume, the touch of her hand… His heart thumped. Drawing a curtain of disdain around himself, he offered his arm.
At the drawing room door, they paused to survey the room. Her enchanting smile lit her face. He looked down at her and glowered under his raised brow.
“Really, Seyes, you are the most stubborn man I know.” The smile had changed in an instant to a petulant pout. She withdrew her arm from his, tossed her head, and strolled into the room. Every head had turned at her voice, and every male stared as she advanced toward Wolloh, broadcasting her sensual beauty with every step and every movement of her head or hips or luminous gray eyes. The only male in the room unaffected was Gidtuss, who glared with distaste.
Nomed had intended to follow but found himself intercepted by Lorsedi and Nissasa. “Good evening, Seyes. You seem to have annoyed the Dreelas.” The Largeen Joram followed TheLise with his eyes. “She is quite lovely, you know.”
“Lovely and a hothead.” He, too, looked in her direction. “Do you ever wonder at the inability of women to understand the simplest things?”
Lorsedi laughed and turned to his son. “You have always had a way with the ladies, Nissa. Can you answer Seyes’ question?”
The tall man slit his icy eyes. Muscles rippled beneath his elegant jacket. A predator preparing to pounce, he nodded toward the object of their discussion. “She is quite gorgeous. Are you involved?”
Nomed let himself appear obtuse. “Involved? As in lovers or friends?”
Nissasa’s lazy smile did not touch his eyes. “As in either?”
“We are fellow apprentices of Wolloh and have known each other for a long time. I suppose you might consider us friends.”
The man caught her eye and smiled. “And is she a staunch supporter of the High DiMensioner?”
Nomed laughed. “TheLise is a staunch supporter of TheLise. She plays her own game. If you’ll excuse me, I must make my apologies to Wolloh for such a rude entrance.” He nodded to both men and sauntered across the room.
When he reached Wolloh’s good side, TheLise had joined Baroh and Omudi, who were chatting with two women from RewFaar.
Wolloh cast her an appreciative glance. “You have to admit she is one fine woman.” He looked back at Nomed. “It appears the bait has been taken.”
Nomed scowled as Nissasa oozed his way to TheLise’s s
ide. Turning his back, he changed the subject of conversation. “Who are the women with Baroh?”
“The older woman is the LaChett Roween Rattori, Nissasa’s mother. The other is Tissent, SparrowLyn AsTar’s aunt and her mother’s twin.”
Nomed angled his body so he could see them more clearly. “So twins run in the family.” He glanced over his shoulder at Lorsedi. “And so does red hair.”
The handsome side of Wolloh’s face smiled his agreement. “Tissent is a good woman. She gave up her life in KcernFensia to save it and the people she loved. Roween, on the other hand is a schemer, part RewFaaran and part rattlesnake, with political aspirations for her son. She is as dangerous as Nissasa.”
“I believe that LaChett is a title but I don’t know its reference,” said Nomed.
“It refers to a RewFaaran woman who is claimed by one man. Lorsedi tells me he has chosen to keep Roween as a LaChett to keep her from stirring up trouble. Men on RewFaar may have several LaChett at one time.”
Gidtuss, descending on them, ended the conversation. Moving away from Wolloh’s side and out of the Dreela’s range, Nomed made his way to the bar and ordered a glass of red wine. A casual turn of the head brought TheLise into view. Nissasa had made his move. She laughed at something he said, pouted prettily, and took his offered arm. Together they strolled toward the patio door. Nomed shifted his focus. Roween’s hawk-like face wore an expression of satisfaction. The game was well under way.
Corvus moved among the guests with a tray full of DerTahan delicacies, memorizing each face and gleaning as much from the conversations as possible. Every tidbit of information he gathered would help him to protect Esán and the twins. Time at Shu Chenaro had taught him much. The arrival of Lorsedi and his entourage had cast a whole new light on the events of the past few sun turnings and on the future. Nissasa had to be dealt with and soon. None of Corvus’ charges would be safe until Lorsedi’s eldest son was neutralized.
The UnFolding Collection Two Page 23