by B. K. Boes
“I’m not sure I do,” Jabin said. “But, the Sustainer has given me this gift. What else am I to do with it?”
“Stay here, where you belong,” Abner said, pleading. “Go to Oracle Lan whenever a vision comes to you. I’ve heard of people like you doing that their whole lives. I’ll allow that. Do it in full daylight. You don’t have to hide. But stay with me. Be my heir. Commit to your inheritance.”
Jabin looked at his father, and in that moment, he wanted it to work. “All right,” he said. “I’ll do as you say.”
“Good,” Abner said, patting Jabin on the back. “Good. Now, go get a little more rest. You look terrible.”
“I’ll see you in the morning, father.” Jabin went up to his room, careful not to wake anyone else. Soon, the house would be bustling with activity, but for another hour, it would be quiet. He laid down on his bed and thought about all that had transpired. As the truth had come out to his father, Jabin had found a spark of desire begin to light within himself, a desire to follow his gifting. Part of him longed to find out what the Sustainer might do with him if he were to train in The Temple.
But he also understood his father’s wishes, and a normal life with a family, land, and tenants to care for was a good one. Perhaps if he found happiness as a minor Lord of Eikon, his visions would become more bearable.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Kaela
Hodda Nomadic Tribe
Desert of Eidolon, Erem
4th Cycle of Chenack
989 Post Schism
Kaela worked beside Tanni, Fey, and Rinn to harvest the prickly maqua fruit of a cluster of cacti. It had taken them all morning to find it, staying within a safe distance from where the Hodda tribe had settled for the season. The far southeast desert was the only place in Leyumin maquas could be found. While some of the fruit would be eaten that night, much of it would be dried and sold at one of the Lone Mountains.
“I wish these grew everywhere.” Rinn’s voice was soft and quiet as always. When she first joined the Hodda, Kaela missed half of what the shy girl said, but after three years, she’d learned to listen closely whenever Rinn spoke.
Fey pursed her lips and tilted her head. “Maybe we wouldn’t appreciate the fruit if it was everywhere. The Sustainer was good to create them at all. We shouldn’t complain.”
Rinn’s cheeks grew red, and she put her head down. Kaela had learned to keep her inner walls up all the time, which had become like second nature to her now, but very strong emotions still touched her, like a barely noticed breeze brushing against her cheek. She reached out toward Rinn and rubbed her shoulder.
Tanni carefully cut away one of the red oval-shaped bulbs. “She didn’t mean anything against the Sustainer, Fey. For stars’ sake, get off your pedestal. You know how Rinn takes things to heart.”
Fey huffed and too quickly pulled off a bulb, sticking her finger on one of the cactus’ spines. She shook her hand and narrowed her eyes at Tanni. Fey and Tanni were the older of the four, both twelve, seeming to Kaela to be well on their way to maturity.
Fey sighed and gave Rinn a pat on her arm. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
Rinn perked up a bit, and Tanni nodded, satisfied. The older girl turned to Kaela. “So, when are you heading back for your session?”
Kaela looked up at the position of the sun. It was almost directly overhead. She groaned. “I should go soon. I wish I could stay.”
“It can’t be that bad,” Fey said as she dropped another fruit in her basket.
Kaela crossed her arms. “Easy for you to say. I don’t think our Roshleth likes me very much. Part of me thinks she wants me to deny my confirmation.”
Rinn gasped. “But you wouldn’t do that, right?”
“I don’t think so,” Kaela said.
“Kaela, you can’t deny your confirmation.” Fey shook her head. “No one does that.”
“I said I wasn’t going to.” Kaela worked at the cacti with more vigor, wishing the conversation would take another turn.
“No,” Tanni said, one hand on her hip. “You said you didn’t think you would. There’s a difference.”
All three of the other girls stopped with the cacti and looked at Kaela. Ugh. I shouldn’t have said anything.
The fact was she had until her tenth birthday to decide whether or not to confirm her role as Roshleth within the Hodda. She loved the Hodda people, and she loved her friends. Her family was happy there, for the most part. But Orlin, her betrothed and the future Patriarch, had only gotten more arrogant, and Roshleth Vyad was so different from Sava. Momma said what people felt didn’t always align with what they believed, and Kaela certainly hoped that was true. Both Orlin and Roshleth Vyad often breached her barriers with bursts of anger, bitterness, and sometimes outright hatred.
If I could still be a Roshleth without marrying Orlin, it would be easier, Kaela thought. She couldn’t imagine letting go of her calling to protect the history of her people. But that was the way it worked; her future was tethered to her marriage match. There wasn’t anything she could do to change that.
“Stop staring at me.” Kaela backed away from the cacti and wiped her hands on her skirts. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said, more to appease them than anything.
Rinn smiled. Fey sighed and turned back to the cacti. Tanni raised her eyebrows.
“Don’t hear me saying it’s not your choice,” Tanni said. “But you’ve worked hard for this.”
“I know,” Kaela said. But is it my choice?
Confirmation was a formality, a tradition. Fey was right. No one backed out. Ever. And to break it meant she had to give up part of herself. For as long as she could remember, all Kaela wanted was to be a good and wise Roshleth, like her Sava.
Tanni licked her lips, and acted as though she might say more, but instead she sighed and turned back to the cacti. “We’ll love you no matter what you do, right?” She looked to the other two.
“Right,” Rinn said immediately.
“Of course,” Fey said, waving it off as though it were a ridiculous question.
Kaela’s shoulders relaxed a little. “I love you, too,” she said. “Friends always?”
“Always,” the three responded in unison.
Affection made the symbol at Kaela’s neck warm, and she opened up a little window in her wall, enough to let the warmth wrap itself around her for a moment. She rubbed at the back of her neck as her symbol tingled. She looked to her friends, for a moment wishing they could feel the warmth, too.
Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that feelings like this are wrong to let in…
Every girl born of the tribes had a symbol just like Kaela’s at the nape of their neck, given to them during a special ceremony at birth. Though she was the same on the outside, Kaela felt the difference between herself and other girls as a sharp reminder that she was cursed. She cut off the warmth, her Sava’s warnings echoing in her mind.
Sava had never failed her, and Kaela saw no reason not to trust her in this. Over the years, Kaela left letters with dispatches at the Lone Mountain Roshleth Councils, and every time she did, she found a letter waiting for her from Sava. They kept in touch that way, using a code to talk about her curse when needed. Sava was the only one Kaela could be completely honest with. Her word meant everything to Kaela, so she locked the window tight against the warmth, chastising herself for giving in.
“You should get going,” Fey said. “It’ll take you a bit to get back to camp.”
Kaela glanced up at the sun. “Yeah… I’ll see you all later.”
They said their goodbyes, and then Kaela walked across the rolling, hard desert ground of southeast Erem. As she crested a hill, the camp came into view, the Hodda’s sandbeast herd dotting the bronze, cracked sandy hill just beyond it. The beasts were shaggy, only a cycle away from their coats being thick enough to shave. The hair could be used to weave baskets, make rugs, create felted material, and be mixed with mud to make insulated bricks, among other thi
ngs. All of it could be traded for the goods the Hodda needed to survive. Before long, the entire camp would be busy creating their wares, and then the tribe would travel to Ogche — the nearest Lone Mountain — to trade.
Kaela’s steps slowed as she crossed the threshold of the edge of camp. Taking her time, she wove through the tents, waving hello to other Hodda as she passed by. In the distance, she saw her mother hanging blankets on a line to dry. Kaela paused a moment to appreciate the smile on her mother’s face. She was pregnant, about five cycles along, and lately her mood had been upbeat. Kaela said a silent prayer, asking the Sustainer to protect this baby and bring the little one into the world safely. Her mother had already lost two babies, and Kaela didn’t think she could handle a third.
Sighing, she turned back toward the center of camp where the Roshleth and Patriarch lived. Her shoulders sagged a bit as she crossed the clearing outside their tent. The entrance was usually tied back, open to everyone who might need council. Kaela frowned as she approached the canvas draped across the entrance, closed off to the tribe. There was only one reason it would be that way.
A meeting with the tribal council?
Arland stood guard to the side of the tent. He was a young man, new to his calling. Though the Hodda were pacifists, they did have one family line dedicated to the protection of the Roshleth and Patriarch, as was the tradition for most of the tribes. Arland’s job was relatively uneventful most of the year, just standing watch. Eventually, he would follow the Patriarch and Roshleth into cities and marketplaces. His family also stood watch when foreigners came into their midst, which wasn’t often.
“Running a little late again?” Arland whispered, eyebrow raised.
Kaela grimaced. “No one told me there was a meeting.”
He shook his head, a half smile on his face, as he pulled the canvas back wide enough for her to enter. He mouthed the words, “Good luck.”
Kaela stepped inside and felt a little gust of air as the canvas fell back into place behind her. The Roshleth and Patriarch sat on their large floor pillows beside each other. Orlin sat to his grandfather’s right-hand side on a smaller floor pillow. An empty pillow was at the left hand of Roshleth Vyad.
The five members of the tribal council sat on small, individual rugs in a semi-circle before their leadership, legs crossed and hands resting on their knees. They all seemed to be meditating, which was always the first task in the process of an official meeting. Kaela took her place at the Roshleth’s side on the empty floor pillow.
Kaela sighed and crossed her legs, placed her hands on her knees, and took a deep breath. Meditation was an act of worship. A way to seek the Sustainer’s blessing over decision making. She was about to pray inwardly when she heard the Roshleth shuffle a bit.
“Now that we’re all here,” Roshleth Vyad began, an edge to her voice, “I believe we can begin.”
The five council members opened their eyes. They were chosen from among the oldest men and women of the Hodda. Dignified and wise, they weighed in on every major decision the Patriarch and Roshleth made for the tribe as a whole. Their power lay in unity. Only when all five of them disagreed with a course of action could they effectively veto the Patriarch and Roshleth.
Ednah sat nearest to Kaela. Her hair was long and gray, loose now and always. She was a free spirit, a woman who still loved to play with the smaller children. Though she was wrinkled and thin, she joined the rest of the Hodda when they danced around the bonfire every night.
“Is it possible to have enough time in prayer, Vyad?” Ednah asked as she winked at Kaela. Only these five were permitted to call their leaders by their names.
The Roshleth prickled at that but regained complete composure quickly. “Of course not, my dear Ednah,” she said. “Is anyone in need of more time?”
Kaela watched as each member shook their heads, until she got to Patriarch Gavril. His eyes were closed, and his body was slumped just slightly. The smallest of snores escaped his lips, and Kaela had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Orlin cleared his throat loudly, but the Patriarch didn’t move.
“Gavril!” Roshleth Vyad raised her voice. The Patriarch jolted awake, eyes wide. Lowering her voice, and controlling it well, Roshleth Vyad spoke again. “Do you need more time for mediation?”
“No,” he said as he blinked his eyes slowly and deliberately. “I think I’ve had enough.”
“Good.” Roshleth Vyad straightened her back and squared her shoulders. “We have come together to discuss a new direction for the Hodda.” She smiled, something she didn’t do often.
“A new direction?” Ira, the oldest among them, frowned. He was the kind of person whose entire face portrayed his emotion. Deep crevices formed on his brow, and his eyes darkened. “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with our current direction?”
Mordo waved away Ira’s displeasure. “Let them speak before deciding against it,” he said. Mordo was the youngest of the tribal council, only in his mid-sixties. He and Ira were rarely on the same page. Mordo blamed Ira’s stubbornness, and Ira blamed Mordo’s so-called youth.
“Please,” Mima said, “continue, Vyad.” She met Mordo’s eye and shook her head firmly, once, and the old man relented from speaking further. Sometimes Kaela wondered if Mordo and Mima loved each other, though Mima was soft-spoken and Mordo bullheaded. Both widowed long ago, they were often found together and seemed to enjoy one another’s company.
The last of the tribal council, Yado, sat without a word. He was more apt to listen than to speak, and every word from his mouth was well thought out. Kaela paid attention when Yado spoke. Her father believed Yado was the wisest of them all, and Kaela tended to agree.
“First, Vyad will tell us a story of the stars. The Sustainer allowed Vyad to learn it at the last gathering of Roshleths,” Patriarch Gavril said. “It will give us context for our decision.”
Kaela listened carefully. She was there to observe. To learn. If the Roshleth told a story Kaela wasn’t familiar with, she would be expected to tell it again later, in full detail. Eremite tribes each had their own stories and legends, passed down throughout generations. There were thousands of them, each tribe holding only a handful. Every year, on the first day of the first cycle, Roshleths would meet at the nearest Lone Mountain to trade precious legends, histories, and stories.
Roshleth Vyad settled down into her floor pillow and began. “There once was a poor farmer named Yaan in the lands of Ergon. His crops were barely enough to feed himself and his family.”
Kaela relaxed. She knew this story well. Yaan, the Dragon Egg, and the Bag of Gold was one of the first stories Sava had taught her. Yaan was etched into the stars, forever alone with only his gold to comfort his lonely existence.
“Yaan realized he could do more for his family, that living hand-to-mouth was a curse upon him,” Roshleth Vyad said.
Kaela frowned. That’s not how Sava told this story.
“You see, he heard tell of a king in the South who would offer any man great wealth if he could only bring him the egg of a dragon. In those days, dragons of old were alive and well. They were ten times the size of the therbaks of the west we fear today. It was a difficult task. Yaan knew dragons loved beauty, and so he brought his eldest daughter with him high in the Radelle Mountains to distract the dragon. His plan worked, and he was able to steal his dragon egg. The Sustainer was with him.”
Kaela’s frown deepened. She looked at Roshleth Vyad. Are there two versions of this story? Or is she telling it wrong on purpose?
“And so he left his family in Ergon and promised to return with great wealth. It was a tedious journey that took many cycles, but Yaan made it to the king in the South and presented the dragon’s egg. He was given a bag of the most precious treasures. Elated, he returned to Ergon dressed as a king. On the way, he bought a plot of land bigger than the one he already owned, and he commissioned a beautiful mansion for his wife and daughters to live in. He had a tailor make them beautiful dresses and hired
a chef so his wife no longer had to toil in the kitchen.” Roshleth Vyad smiled. “And so, with great effort, Yaan made himself into something more. He lived the rest of his days in comfort.”
Kaela balked. “But, his family—”
“You are to remain silent, Kaela. You are an observer only,” Roshleth Vyad said.
Three of the members of the tribal council shook their heads in displeasure at Kaela’s sudden interruption. Yado and Ednah looked at her, too, but their expressions were more curious than angry. Orlin met Kaela’s eye, his cheeks flaming red. He hated it when she broke the rules. When she questioned his grandmother. He said it was a reflection on him, that her bad behavior got him in trouble. Her symbol stung at the touch of his anger.
It was true. She wasn’t supposed to say anything. She was only nine years old, a child in the presence of great wisdom.
But she didn’t tell the story right! Kaela wanted to say, but she bit her lip as more than half the people in the room stared her down.
“Go on, my dear,” Patriarch Gavril said, once it was clear Kaela would behave.
“As I was saying,” Roshleth Vyad continued, “through hard work and ambition Yaan was able to bring himself great wealth. And the Sustainer blessed him to live a long life.” She smiled. “That is what we want for the Hodda. Wealth and long life.”
Patriarch Gavril scratched at his cheek. “And so,” he said, “we want to try something new. Something ambitious.”
Ednah was still looking at Kaela, but she spoke to the Patriarch. “And what is that, Gavril?”
“We want to travel westward, closer to the Adikean border than we normally go. Trade with them directly instead of using the Lone Mountain tribes as middle men.”
“We’ve never traded with Adikeans directly,” Ira said, narrowing his eyes. “We’ve always been craftsmen and sandbeast herders.”