by Emanuel, Ako
A great warmth sprang up and suffused the group, followed immediately by a flash that quickly died away to reveal a brilliant av’tun. Jeliya gazed at it even though her eyes burned and watered and the Av’ins danced on her retinas. She blinked stars away from her eyes to see a regal figure emerge. She immediately bowed deeply with her arms spread.
“Mother Queen,” she said, “I have returned to you. My heart swells with light and my soul is at last at peace.”
“Daughter Heir,” said her mother’s rich voice, “my heart swells with light and my spirit is now at peace, that you’ve returned to me.”
Jeliya straightened and at the sight of her mother’s face forgot all formality and flew into Audola’s arms, laughing and crying with joy.
“Mother!” she cried, hugging her mother fiercely, and receiving just as fierce a hug.
“Jeliya, dear heart, how I’ve missed you,” Audola said liquidly, stroking guinne that was just returning to a healthy sheen-silkiness, and feeling ribs that were just beginning to fill out with healthy flesh. She held Jeliya away and saw the changes and fading marks of hardship and suffering.
“Oh, my child, what a time you’ve had,” she whispered, and received the wry smile and shrug that she had missed. She pulled her daughter back to her.
“More than you know, mother,” Jeliya murmured back, holding tight and feeling, for just a gran, completely safe again. Then they each stepped back. The two parties attending them came forward and formal introductions were made for R’Kyl and her escorts. All acted as if the touching scene between mother and daughter had not occurred. It was their little private moment of happiness, and none would infringe upon it.
They retired to a lain set aside for informal lorns, and arrayed themselves in a circle with Audola at one point with her back to the este. Jeliya sat opposite her, facing este. The others chose seats as they would. Audola, her Av’lati and her five remaining Voices cast rites of protection and privacy, for the Lan’mba were nowhere near as secure as the heart of T’Av’li. All contributed what they could to the casters.
A servant came forward at a glance from Audola and set the small, rounded, handleless ceremonial cups before each of them. Then she filled the cups, from a matching pitcher of fine porcelain that was covered with chips of jadine set in intricate patterns. They raised their cups and lifted their eyes to the unseen sky above.
“We give thanks to the ancestors for the safe return of my daughter,” Audola intoned.
“Ashe,” came the murmured chorus.
“We give praise to the Goddesses for her deliverance and bless those who undertook the journey to extricate her from peril.”
“Ashe.”
“We give love and worship to the Supreme One watching over her through her trials. Ashe.”
“Ashe, ashe, ashe!” And with that they all drank a sip of gulu, raised the cups again, then poured a small amount to the soil of planters that ringed the sitting area.
Then there was the slightest of pauses, as they waited for Audola to set the tone of the gathering - would the good news precede or succeed the bad?
She spread her arms to draw everyone’s attention to her. “Let us have the good news first. There is time enough to make it pale with the less than joyous happenings.” A minute twinkle in her eyes danced and laughed, telling them that she had news of her own, but telling nothing more.
Rilantu glanced around as everyone hesitated, caught between wanting to share news and hear the news of others, then spread his arms. None objected. His eyes lingered on his twin, some shared thing passing between them.
“I will begin, then,” he said, and moved forward to take one of Audola’s hands and bowing his head over it.. “Mother, I announce that First Filla Rama’Kyl and I are Jur’Av’chi’al’in, by Goddess-bond. With your blessing, our two Tribes will soon be one.”
And before she could draw breath to utter a sound of surprise, Staventu was holding her other hand, also bowed so that the two held identical poses.
“Mother, I announce the betrothal of Pentuk Aryana and myself, two lost souls who found each other and would become one.”
Audola seemed stunned to immobility. All waited upon the bait of her breath for her reaction to this totally unexpected turn of events. The moment seemed to hang suspended forever until Sinyi, unable to waited any longer, blurted,
“Isn’t there anything that you two don’t do together?”
That surprised a laugh out of Audola, and she drew her twin sons to her, caught between happiness and tears. She hugged them close and kissed their brows, and the circle dissolved into a general chaos of kisses and hugs and well-wishing backslaps. Audola embraced both her daughters-to-be, blessing each as she had her sons with kisses on the brow.
“The Tribe Ava’lon is strengthened and enriched by these pairs,” she said, her voice like satin turned to wine, “I bless both with my love and the love of the Av’rujo, and by the hands of the Goddesses and the Supreme One.” Then she caught their hands again and reached out to Jeliya to draw her nearer, forestalling them from returning to their seats.
“I also have an announcement,” she said. Her three children sat up straighter and looked at each other. They had not heard that mischievous tone from their mother in a long time, but they knew it well. Audola just smiled, and cut her eyes to the right. Her three children’s gazes, following, alighting on the First Voice.
Luyon, to Audola’s right, cleared his throat and inclined his head. All gazes of wonder turned to him. “I, First Voice to the High Queen, am humbled and joyous by her acceptance of my love and my -” he stopped, not really searching for words, but perhaps wondering if there were words sufficient to express what he felt, “-my wish to be hers, to be he that makes her whole. To be one with her. I - we are betrothed.” He dropped his eyes, almost embarrassed that the depth of his feelings should be so bald to this group.
“S’bout time,” Sinyi said matter-of-factly. Luyon looked outraged at the comment, then began to laugh. Of course the others would know. Only the twins and the Heir would be surprised.
He was not wrong. The three sat with eyes wide and mouths agape as if the gulu in their bellies had begun to move independent of them.
“Mother?” Jeliya was the first to recover. She turned to Audola and saw the change, saw the subtle shades of happiness that had replaced the melancholy that no one had ever really been aware of but that all had sensed. Then it hit her. Her mother was happy! Audola had finally chosen a new mate. Her arms were about Audola before she even finished the thought.
“Oh, Goddesses, Mother, I’m so happy for you!” she cried, and in truth tears were coming. But self-discipline was on hold for this occasion. Now was the time to reveal - discipline had no place among the things being said here this turn.
The twins broke into huge grins and piled their own congratulations onto Jeliya’s so that Audola was nearly smothered by the weight of her children. Then Jeliya welcomed Luyon as the new Prince Consort, squeezing him hard.
“It is about time,” she murmured to him.
“Yes, it is,” he answered, smiling into her eyes. She smiled back.
“I couldn’t think of a better man,” she said, then her smile turned sly. “I guess all those eves I spent burning incense and offering prayers paid off.”
He blinked as her words washed over him. But in the instant it took for them to come clear, she had moved out of range of discreet inquiry.
The lorn eventually sorted itself out. After the last embrace and everyone had resumed their seats, smiles slowly faded and spirits grew perceivably sober as all prepared for the bad tidings. Audola changed again, again in very subtle ways, her expression emptying of emotion.
“And now, the bad,” she said quietly. Otaga waited a sils then spread her arms.
“If I may be the first to report?” None gave objection. She bowed to Audola. “High Queen Audola, as your Warru First, I officially report the outcome of the egwae to recover the Heir.” She presen
ted a warru journal to Audola, who took it but did not open it, meaning that she would hear the verbal report right then and there. At this cue Otaga drew a breath and straightened her back.
“I formally report to my Queen: First, and foremost, the High Heir has been successfully retrieved. She had suffered injury, but no lasting harm, I am told.
“Second: I announce, only for completeness, the presence in our ewgae of the delegate of the Katari Tribe Zwin’buta’lngi, the First Filla Rama’Kyl and her escorts.
“Third: I report treachery in the High Queen’s Realm on two counts; one, the seeking with intent to destroy sapient life and two, a direct threat to the life of the High Heir. Warru in distinct Tribe colors sought the life of the High Heir and the one with her, and pursued them to the edges of the Cribeau’lons. A comprehensive list of all indicated is in my written report...” Otaga broke off as Audola’s posture, remaining unchanged, still acquired a stiffness like granite cooling from lava and her eyes hardened to diamond in the magma furnace of her rage. But she held her silence, a command that Otaga complete her report. After an uncomfortable sils, Otaga resumed.
“Fourth: I report infractions of the law of the Realm - it has been brought to my attention that unknown persons have bred and planted dangerous mutated species of plants, plants already inimical, in certain sections of the unclaimed lons. It was one of these which caused the Heir injury. It seems quite possible, though only as speculation, that there is a connection between these plants and the warru attempting to kill the High Heir. Armed scouts have been left in place to reconnoiter the area for more information.” Otaga went on to report all the other things that had befallen and pursued them, the traps, the attacks by wumans and beasts, the desperate fighting, the healing of the Cribeau, the treachery and enslavement of the Katari by wumans. Everything she had noted in her journal, she recounted for those who had not been present. The picture she painted was truly frightening, and when she was finally done, all eyes turned to the High Queen, fear becoming a new member of the lorn, seated among them.
The High Queen’s rage turned to silence, deep and patient as an underground steam vent, building to the blowing point. None dared say anything while the High Queen’s silence grew solid and tangible as she digested this news. R’Kyl, immobile along with the rest, at last understood the reputation of the Obsidian Queen’s wrath. Even her own mother, the Herdress, did not wield power of rage such as this. Awed, she watched and waited.
“These things,” she said finally, her voice echoing just the slightest bit, “must be addressed at once. Thiam, Ashmisa, send a message now to three eboku of investigative warru. Apprise them of the situation. Otaga, is that all?”
“No, Av’One. I have one last thing to report. Acts of treason, two counts. One: I formally report the death of the High Queen’s out runners, sent to shorten the way for the egwae. The image was captured with the assistance of R’Kyl and her escorts. Two: the means of their death and an attack upon this egwae, both by beings that seemed Nih’macha, constructs. Their origin is unknown.”
This time all hints of the rage disappeared as Audola closed her eyes. But there was a titanic shift of power, a gathering of forces, like the movement of tectonic plates, felt more than heard, sensed more than felt. The stillness before the eruption. When she opened her eyes they were a flat black, and when she looked Dariaku and Sinyi, they seemed transfixed for a moment, caught in a hypnotic stare that robbed them of animation. Then they were ‘tunning almost audibly to warru and assistants at T’Av’li, setting things into motion that would come to fruition much later. There would be a reckoning with those who dared to break the laws of Ava’Lona set by the Goddesses themselves, and not even the far reaches of Ava’Lona would be enough for the ones responsible to hide.
Otaga bowed, just a bit stiffly, to show that she had reached the end of her report.
A long sils followed, wherein no one else had anything to put forth. Dariaku considered, then decided it might be best to speak to Audola alone, if the opportunity arose.
Jeliya waited through the five heartbeat sils, then sat up straight and bowed.
“As High Heir to the High Queen, I wished to be last to report.” The attention of the group was like a weight on her, a burden she didn’t want to bear. She shook of the feeling and continued. “Mother, I have much to tell. But first, as I have told Otaga, I found out the cause of the Zehj’Ba.”
Of the surprises already dropped in the group so far, this was far and away the most incredible to those who had not gone on the search. None seemed to dare say anything lest she take the statement back. She raised her eyes and glanced around. Their wonderment was almost funny to behold. She drew a breath.
“I went in search of the being called the Lor’av’ona. This was after I had found the journal of the High Queen Jenikia’s maddi. Following a trail of hints and legends, I tracked him to the sor’n-weste most of the unclaimed lons. There I sent most of my escort away - I figured that such a large number of people would surely alert - this being, if we ever managed to get close to him. I took only one, whose fate is unknown to me.” She felt a deep shame and anger over the lost warru - he was as much her responsibility as she had been his. Her duties permitting, she would learn his fate and avenge him if possible or necessary. She had a feeling it would be necessary.
“We set up a camp, and I bid him to stay while I went out to search alone. He didn’t like the idea, but I didn’t give him much choice. For two ten’turns I found nothing. I was about to give up when I picked up his trail - the Lor’av’ona. For another ten’turn I tracked him, and set non-lethal, non-injuring traps so that I could question him. But he evaded all of them. Always I was two paces behind, but I could never close the distance. Finally, in desperation, I set up a Katari mating snare for him and lay in wait.” R’Kyl looked startled to hear this and gazed wonderingly at her. But no more wonderingly than the others.
“The idea was Pentuk’s” Jeliya admitted, smiling at her friend. “And it worked. Or it would have worked. The fruit enticed him and he entered the circle. But - I was unprepared for the sight of him. He was breathtaking.” She stopped a moment in remembrance, the worried glances moving around her unnoticed. “I, stationed in a ferr’flambeaux tree, leaned forward inadvertently-” Otaga clucked her tongue disapprovingly “-and the branch broke. I fell into what at first glance appeared to be an ordinary patch of thrista nettle. But it was not. It turned out to be a new, created variety of the plant, the effects of which were magnified ten to twelve times.” She paused and drew a sigh, already tired. Her rapt audience waited impatiently for her next words. She looked at her hands.
“I - the next part is rather - confused. I was in fever delirium. I was rescued and treated - by him. By the one I was trying to trap. If I had uttered the catch-phrases of the trap, and then fallen - I would have died, and he would have been powerless to aid me.” There were inarticulate sounds at the very close margin by which she had survived.
“But he rescued me. And treated me for the poison. It seems he is something of a natural healer, with some skills of an ol’bey’one, and other skills I’ve never heard of before. At one point I did actually come close to death-” it was like the story of someone else, of some other one’s life, it seemed to have happened so long ago, “-I saw the face of the Beloved-”
Audola’s sharp intake of breath made Jeliya stop and glance up. And her mother’s eyes showed the haunted shadows of the memory of that instant when she knew her daughter walked the thin line between life and the Beloved’s embrace. It brought her own words slamming home, and she felt tears unafraid of shame beckon.
“I’m so sorry, Mother,” she whispered. “I – I should have known you’d know, that you would feel it. I’m so sorry. I was a fool, a foolish child, and I almost paid a fool’s price.”
Audola gave a slight nod of acknowledgement through the shadows. It said that all that mattered was that Jeliya was alive.
Jeliya swallowed and continue
d. “He bared his soul to mine to save me. It forged a link between us. When I finally overcame the fever, he began nursing me back to health. And I began to grope for information.” She furrowed her brows. “I had to be very cruel to get it,” she said, pained, thinking of the hurt she had caused him. “I got him to admit that he had known Jenikia and that he knew what the source of the Zehj’Ba was, though he did not tell me at the time. Then, I went into lor’den - I couldn’t performed the Rite of Solu in my illness, for about a ten’turn and one, and he apparently did not know that he had to do it for me. I tried to stave it off by invoking the first and second orders of the Rite, but it was too advanced. Then - things get confused again.” She frowned, struggling to remember. “I think he took me out to a place where I could be in direct Av’light. I did not tell you that in addition to fever, the poison attacked my digestion, and my eyes, making them intolerant to light of any kind. He had them covered all the time, so I couldn’t see where I was, or anything at all. Anyway, I think that I performed the Rite again and that it got rid of the lor’den.
“We talked more, and together we healed an abarine graa. And around that time I felt the Rite of Finding from Mother and found out just how serious the link was between him and me. It was beyond anything I had ever seen or heard of. I tried to sever it and failed. I had begun getting all the signs of the Jur’Av’chi from my first turn of coherence. And when I finally tried my sight after he’d repaired all that he could, we - connected. Deeply. In that connection he saw the Rite of Finding upon me, and among other things, I saw in his mind, the cause of the Zehj’Ba.”
“Which was?” Jarisa prompted, beating all else to the question.