One autumn morning, when I greeted the day, I found a young woman sitting outside my cave. Her legs were folded and her head bowed in the same supplicant pose that villagers used when they approached the leader of our community, though no woman had ever dared come within his sight since I had arrived. In her arms was a child of about five years, who barely moved. She held the child out to me; I did not hesitate. It didn’t occur to me that perhaps I should have asked permission from the leader first.
I carried the child into my cave, and the mother followed me. After examining my patient, I showed the woman how I prepared and applied my medicines, mimed to her that it should be done three times a day for each treatment, and gave her a portion to take home with her. The child would heal if the mother did as I had instructed. With tears of gratitude, she bowed before me and, like Tren and Ket, kissed my hands and pressed them to her head. Then she took her child in her arms and left.
The following morning, it was a man with a festering cut. On the next, a boy with a limp. Every day, someone new was at the mouth of my cave, seeking my help ~ often several people. They came with severe problems, illnesses beyond the skills of other healers, not disturbing me with ordinary cares and illnesses. And they did so without words. Mothers swathed the mouths of crying children, to avoid offending the silence of our community. I turned none away.
Then, one afternoon, four men brought a boy on a plank, rushing forward with no preliminary supplication. The boy had been wounded severely; the arrowhead was still in his abdomen. I’ll never know how they made it up to the caves in time. Perhaps they had been hunting the White Mountains and were already close.
I gestured that they should bring him inside my cave, and I worked with all the skills I could command to save the boy. Soon, the song came, unbidden but necessary, for the child was slipping away from me. I sang his life, fighting the call of death, while I cut the arrowhead out and mended the flesh. Unaware of the passage of time, I worked with him until I knew my ministries had finally taken effect. Then I left the boy and men in my cave, all sleeping soundly, and went outside for air, surprised to find it was dawn.
Tren was sitting outside my cave, waiting for me. He might have been there all night, or he might have just arrived. His lips quivered with words he ached to say. Instead, he turned toward the leader’s perch, to show me he had been sent. Then he went into my cave, and sidestepping the various strangers who barely stirred in their sleep, he packed my belongings and handed them to me.
I threw my packs on the ground and stomped off to the leader’s boulder. Not waiting to be acknowledged, I climbed up, speaking without permission. “You’re sending me away.” I wanted to say so much more, but being unaccustomed to words, they failed me.
He had to stand or have me tower over him. “You are a woman and a disturbance. You have strangers coming and going. Now you have broken the silence.”
“To save a boy’s life,” I pleaded.
“You have broken the silence.” His face twisted with anger and distaste, but his voice remained toneless.
“Does nothing else matter to you?”
“You have broken the silence,” he repeated, with the same exact lack of inflection.
“No, nothing matters,” I answered my own question. “You have nothing more to say because you’re empty inside. You’ve become as solid and untouchable as this boulder. No wonder you can’t hear the songs all around you. Your silence isn’t peace. It’s death.”
I leapt from the boulder, almost colliding with Tren and Ket, who must have heard what I had said. For that, I was sorry. They believed in this community, especially in their leader. For their sakes, I would have taken back my words, but my regret didn’t fade the sense of truth I felt. The silence of this community separated the men from one another, from life. So much so that they couldn’t bear to touch another, even accidentally. I had absorbed myself in their silence, hoping it would bring me peace. But what is peace without words, without songs to give it breath? I would never again allow anything to silence my songs.
Awakening one of the men in my cave, I showed him how to care for the boy, giving him more than enough medicine. The unexpected sound of my voice aroused the others. I told them that regardless of what happened, they were not to move the boy until his wound was set, which would take at least three days. But they were to remain silent and not offend on the community.
Tren and Ket were kneeling outside, waiting for me. Each pressed one of my hands to his lips and brows. Once more I had failed. Perhaps I would always fail when what I sought was to never again care for another. Not even in silence was I able to escape that burden. And now, I had injured these two.
Needing their forgiveness, I sat beside them, in supplication. Soon, the three of us were holding one another, sobbing soundlessly. I was the first to let go, not because my tears were spent, but because it was time to leave. As I stood, they raised their faces to me without moving from where they knelt. And I saw in their eyes not so much pain, though there was that also, but a vitality and joy which hadn’t been there before. I did not realize it, but that too was my doing, that life which shone from within them.
I reached into my smaller pack to give them a mixture of herbs, gesturing to White Beard. Unlike the others, who ignored me, I was sure they had seen me stir it into the food I had given the old man. I hoped Tren and Ket would find a way to continue easing his pain.
I then shouldered my packs and left that stony community of silence. Looking back only once, I saw Tren and Ket still kneeling in front of my cave, watching me. I believe that if I had beckoned, they would have followed. Instead, I turned from them, allowing my feet to carry me away once more.
After Dov had been quiet for a few breaths, Tayar stirred from her listening pose, but stopped when he turned another page and said, “That’s the end of that story, but there’s a bit more to the book. Just a few more pages.”
She curled back into her corner of the sofa.
I had no desire to try living in yet another village, but my feet dragged, needing to finally rest. Seeking the peace of solitude I had once shared with Alleen, I made my way to a valley I’d seen on my journey to the White Mountains. It was wide and green, surrounded by gentle mountains that were sure to cut the coldest of the plains winds, even in winter. In the center of the valley, where two streams met and formed a small lake, was a deserted farm. The farmhouse was in disrepair, with its roof open to the sky, but the barn was still solid. Here, I was determined to live the rest of my life, apart from any other person. But springtime hunters from the Attani…”
“Hey, the Attani — that’s your people, Tayar, right?”
She nodded without opening her eyes, and Dov continued.
But springtime hunters from the Attani found me. Soon, I was busy healing as before, with people coming from far and wide, seeking my help. Now, however, I was in a position to define how things would be done. I told my stories to everyone I treated, of what might be if only we had peace. What’s more, some began to hear and understand.
In the autumn, men from the plains villages came to my valley and rebuilt the house, while the women provisioned my winter stores with the best of their harvests. Tren and Ket were among them, laughing and joking aloud. When the brothers introduced me to their wives, the women thanked me, vowing that whatever I should want or need they would give to me, at that moment or any time in the future.
I found peace in that valley, though not the peace of solitude I had sought. Often, I was truly alone, especially in winter, but I turned no one away who needed my help. Every year, pilgrims came from farther away, until one autumn day, a boy of about eighteen stood at my door. He was large in all dimensions, his hair so fair that it looked almost white. I hadn’t seen anyone like him since the Murat and Mukane.
“I seek a woman,” he said.
“You have found one.”
“You are Alleen Healer?”
“Yes.”
“Were you once also called
Meysrit?”
Overwhelmed by all the memories that long-ago name held, I grabbed the door jam, holding on tightly. “Who are you?” I demanded.
“I’m told I look like my father. If you are Meysrit, maybe you already know who I am.”
“I knew a boy once, so many years ago.” I stared at this improbable giant, but saw instead all the others ~ Dawn and Bisrit, Dac and Thim, and ~ “Wen?” I asked.
He nodded. “Wen’s my father.”
“Please, come in, come in.” I led him into my greeting room. “You must be weary; please sit. Are you hungry?” I started for my kitchen, to get him some refreshment, but turned and stared at him once more. “Were you truly seeking me?”
“When my father heard the stories of Alleen Healer, he sent me to find you. He said no one else would heal using stories of hope, of what might be. He wanted you to know that they finally listened; the Mukane and Murat no longer war, though they fight. You should hear my father and mother go at each other.”
“Your mother?”
“I was told to tell you she’s Darrint’s granddaughter.”
“Darrint? The old Murat headman? But that’s impossible. Wen’s…”
“Mukane. I know. Ma never fails to remind him of that when she’s angry with him.”
I stared at the boy, unable to form all the questions I had.
“All my life, Pa’s told me about you. How it was you who first taught him healing, and so much more. About the cancer of hope, that grows even when you try to cut it out of your heart. About how Grandpa loved you and gave his life for your peace. Everything. Even if Pa hadn’t sent me to you, I would have had to come.”
“Wen…”
“My name is Marrint. They named me for you… For you and for my great grandfather.”
“Marrint, I want to hear it all ~ about Wen and his wife, about the Murat and the Mukane, and especially about you. You’ll stay with me for a while, I hope.”
“That’s what Pa wants, too. He told me to ask you to teach me.”
“But…”
“I’m strong. I can help you through the winter.”
“I live alone, Marrint.”
“I’m to stay at your doorstep until you agree.”
“Why?”
“Because you were right about the Mukane and Murat, because you are a great teacher, probably the wisest woman alive.”
“That’s doubtful.”
“Because I want to understand.”
“What is it you want to understand?”
“Everything.” He shrugged with a slight wince of embarrassment.
“You may stay for a few days. However, you will leave before the first snow.”
But he didn’t leave until the next spring, changed, as I was, by our winter together. He returned often over the years, even after he followed his father as the Mukane Healer, spreading the cancer of hope to anyone who’d listen.
Marrint was the first. Other boys followed, season after season. And women too. But the women didn’t leave. Instead, they formed a new community, becoming known as Alleen’s women, the Peacemakers. I don’t even mind that a village has now taken shape around me, here in my valley. I still can enjoy my solitude and my songs, just as Alleen taught me. But never in silence.
Dov closed the book. “It was this valley?” he asked.
“Yes.” Tayar uncurled her legs and rearranged the cushions behind her.
“Alleen, the Traveler, was an Allesha?”
“The first, though the title didn’t exist until well after her death.”
“It makes sense, I guess.” He flipped through the book, to glance at some of the earlier stories. “Someday, I’d like to reread these, now that I know. See how it changes them.”
“Oh?”
“I suppose it’s like a First Meet. The more you know about a person’s heritage and language, the better you’ll understand his actions. But with these stories, it isn’t her background; it’s her future. Ours, too. We’re here now because of her. And the things that happened to her in these stories could explain that, too.”
“Yes, that’s why these stories foreshadow—”
“But she didn’t get it right, did she? Any Alleman knows you don’t go into a First Meet after only one day and night of observation, much less try to become part of the community with so little information. That was a big mistake. Still, I guess that’s why Allemen know it, because she made that mistake, and we can now learn from it.”
“Exactly.” Though it was taking them in directions she hadn’t planned for this evening, Tayar was pleased how quickly Dov parsed the lessons from the story. This was going to be a stimulating discussion. “What should she have found out about them before revealing herself?” she asked.
“No, not right now.” Dov stood and put the volume away on a bookshelf. “The story and the book have many more implications than I realized. I need to think about it for a while.” He walked briskly toward his bedroom. Turning back, he said, “Will you meet me in the inner room?” Then he left.
Tayar tried to figure out exactly when it was that she had lost control. She reached for the Alleman’s journal she had been planning to read and leafed through it. Tedrac’s handwriting was even and clear, every word well considered. One of the most respected Allemen for his scholarship and wisdom, Tedrac had once been a boy in Season just as Dov was now. Did Hester have the same kind of difficulties with Tedrac at this stage? Were boys all around The Valley challenging their Alleshi tonight? Or was Tayar’s inexperience, coupled with all that had happened, at fault?
Tayar thought about Marrint, the first Winter Boy. Of Tren and Ket and the leader of the hermits sitting so solidly on his boulder that he couldn’t learn to bend. Alleen quickly outgrew that community and its leader, as did Tren and Ket. Any student would who had a mind of his or her own. That was the key, Tayar realized. Dov would soon be an Allemen. In only a few days, the Separation Stage would begin, when they would start learning their new roles as Allesha and Alleman, two halves of a partnership who must remain always close but forever apart.
This evening, she’d lost control because she had no right to have control over Dov. Not anymore. From now on, they would have to work things out together, even through disagreements.
Leaving the greeting room to prepare herself, Tayar was determined to initiate the lessons she had planned for the inner room, but knew that she could no longer predict where they might lead.
Chapter 77
Tayar/Rishana now made a point of going to the Communal Hall daily, usually after lunch. So many Council meetings were being convened, and with such frequency, that no one bothered with a callout any more. At all hours, the Communal Hall was a flurry of activity, with far more Alleshi than usual milling about the rooms and outer courtyards. Everyone seemed in motion, even those who stood in small circles of hushed exchanges. In the Assembly Room, Council deliberations were only slightly more orderly.
Every day brought troubling news or unverified rumors that fed the pervasive sense of escalating disaster.
When a southeast pass guard returned to his post after the long winter, he reported finding the remains of recent camps in the foothills and near the summit, apparently indicating that the renegades weren’t just a small band of Allemen acting alone. The guard found the tracks of as many as three score men and several dozen horses.
A runner reported that Eli and Tedrac had recruited a band of loyal Allemen. Eli and the others had set off in search of the renegades, while Tedrac embarked alone on some unspecified mission. They had armed themselves with rapid-fire rifles, almost identical to those the renegades had stolen, though they shouldn’t have had access to such weaponry beyond the Alleshine storehouse.
Then, as soon as the passes cleared enough for unobstructed travel, Devra and Beatrice disappeared, apparently accompanied by some of their Allemen.
About a week after Caith’s death, Rishana was on her way to the Communal Hall when she found a message waiting under he
r gatepost candle. She recognized the writing as Savah’s, though it was unsigned. “Please come to my home this afternoon. It’s important. The outer door will be closed. Come in anyway.”
After all the years she had spent loving and trusting Savah, she no longer knew what she thought about Jared’s Allesha. Had she ever truly known the woman behind the title? Rishana hesitated with her hand on Savah’s doorknob. No, not Savah, she reminded herself — Peren. The knob turned easily, but of course it would. No one ever needed to lock their homes in The Valley. Would that change, too?
In the vestibule, Rishana heard animated voices. Peren, Le’a/Dara, Hester and Ayne were seated in the greeting room. As she entered, they stopped talking. What was Ayne doing here? Now the oldest of The Valley, Ayne had always been somewhat aloof from Rishana. The young Allesha knew the tall, elegant woman mostly from her constant presence in the Council.
“Rishana! You’re just in time.” Peren appeared glad to see her, as though nothing had changed between them.
Rishana accepted Peren’s embrace, then sat in a bentwood chair that had been brought in from the kitchen. “In time for what?” she asked.
“Yes, Rishana, I’m sure you have many questions. Allow us to answer them one at a time, in our own way,” Ayne said in that quiet, authoritative tone that she used to bring even the most unruly Council to order. “To answer your first question, this is a meeting to decide how to best respond to these threats to our Peace.”
“The four of you, alone, outside of Council?”
“No, the five of us, dear.” Peren seemed to think that including Rishana made it acceptable.
Ayne glanced at Peren only briefly, but it was enough for Rishana to realize Ayne considered herself in charge of this meeting. That Peren leaned back into the sofa cushions, almost as a retreat, seemed to indicate she agreed.
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