I am the fire of love.
Touch me, my beloved...
Is it possible, he wondered. Is her ghost voice, which sounds so sweet, purring, and low the voice of a god? Had the Children known of these women even before he slept, seen their lives, pitied them, and given him the idea to come back to the wadi to rescue them? Did the Children know, before he left the star-boat, that the thieves would need to die by some godly force within him before he could save these women?
The back of the shepherd’s neck tingled when he looked down into the woman’s empty-shiny olive gold eyes. That, too, was strange. A woman with skin as dark as hers—a deep cinnamon color, should have had jet black eyes like his own eyes had once been, but they were light. She unfastened the plain bone brooch at her left shoulder, opening the top of her wrapped wool shift so she could lift and display her small, shriveled breasts.
The other women went about minor chores, pushing scraps aside, putting the clothes he had not chosen back into the basket. They sniffed and inspected the curd they tried to feed him, checking to see if it was too far gone. The sex she offered him was just another part of the hospitality–a dessert, so to speak.
Marai stared achingly into her inward turned eyes that seemed to be saying: Here is my body for you to enjoy. Use it, but ask me for nothing more.
How unlike his vision of the confident self-loving Ashera lifting her breasts she was! She was the obverse side of love, yet despite her hardness, he could still read a burning need to be truly loved in her dulling eyes. Her taut face grinning like an evil death’s head made him want to shove her from his lap, but he remembered some dim legend men told each other long ago. It was the tale of a man under a vile curse because he had mistreated a woman. The goddess sent him a hag who could be freed only if she was truly loved despite her hideousness. Now he had three hags. If he failed to treat any of them well, they might turn into punishing Lilitu, the avenging hand of the goddess, and devour him raw. The lesson he took from that child’s tale suddenly allowed him to speak terrified and stammering praises from his thoughts to her soul.
The goddess is...is in all women. Know I truly believe that...All are to be respected and cherished. I c...could not disrespect you by seeing to my needs, if I had any, before I saw to yours. He smiled into her hard face as warmly as he could under the tense situation.
Sitting quietly, with the woman perched on his lap, Marai sent her another thought.
I would rather be your brother. He stroked the woman’s arm, even though he was repulsed by the thought of even touching her. He prayed inwardly, that she wouldn’t know how he felt.
The shepherd wanted to think he saw a glimmer of relief in her blank eyes the moment the woman sitting on his lap understood she had been rejected. It wasn’t relief. It was a different kind of defeat.
Ta-te?... No! Her thoughts whispered. Not! Then you are not he...I can see it now...but I don’t understand why... She quickly pinned her shift and turned to offer the services of the brown-eyed monkey woman who was busily exploring the elder’s hair for lice.
Almost before he could think of something to soothe the rejected woman, Marai felt compelled to seize her by her fragile shoulders and grip her warmly in his arms. He felt her tense with an instant of animal fear as he gently closed her wild eyes with his fingertips.
I can’t know you this way
It must be like a gift between us
One to another
Not just a thing for me to take
that you cast off.
The voice Marai heard projecting through his own thoughts was almost like his own, but harder and more like metal. The thoughts inside him were deepening and changing, as if he was drifting in a dreaming yet aware, sleep. That thought became like wind roaring through a cave.
In the center of a large open room in this cavern lay a raised well..In many ways the shepherd thought of the jeweled fig-bed in the center of the vessel. On top of the well a stone lid covered the opening, transforming it into an altar. Even though this place was covered, light emanated from it. Through the dark woman’s thoughts, Marai realized he was sensing something that had happened a long time ago in the dark woman’s life.
The part of this vision that left him cold, was that he knew this memory so intimately. Had he lived this event at some point? Was he somehow not Marai, the shepherd son of Ahu the Wanderer? Was he this other being? Marai forced himself to think of the woman who had suddenly grown uncomfortable in his arms.
That’s what’s kept you alive all this time, isn’t it? Marai’s t thoughts breathed into her face, still wanting to comfort her. It was different for you than for the others, wasn’t it? You had to stay alive and show the god whose rage made you like this... that you survived. But I’m not that Demon-god...He died...I know he did. I just can’t be who you say I am!
Marai felt her sag against his chest, whimpering and suddenly too weak to struggle free of his grip. Her tears stained a dark place on the indigo linen shirt he’d chosen. The shepherd didn’t know what possessed him to speak those words to her, because he had no idea what had happened to her. Had she been the plaything of something godly? Had some powerful wizard cursed her?
Wise MaMa screwed up her care-hardened face as if she understood what was being said by the big, almost-glowing man who had come to their hut.
You’re free from your old life, now. The elder woman felt him announce into all of their thoughts. As long as you’re with me, you won’t have to lie with a man unless you really want to do it. The goddess has taken these needs away from me..I haven’t known a woman in fifteen years. The woman bowed her frizzy rust colored head, insulted by the immensity of the lie he was telling.. It made no sense to her that a man so fair to look at would be without sexual needs unless some evil eye had made his loins unable.
Ridiculous! she thought. If I felt better, if Bone Woman and Little Lady had failed, I would take him! I’d fix his problem and have him begging for me. Even eunuchs who live as women have needs! Wise Mama knew that from her days as a wealthy man’s concubine. She would see them embracing and pleasuring each other often enough Freedom from this life? she wondered. Coming now, when I feel death stalking me every day? That’s the real curse! She knew she needed to be cared for, or better yet, cured. The only thing imprisoning her now was her infirmity.
Free? The half-witted one questioned: Free? Not free... Too silly...don’t make free... her thought-voice was quiet and low; childlike, yet seductive.
Marai had heard her inner voice before when he had seen the vision of Ashera on the outside of the vessel in the sand. The shepherd closed his eyes, feeling a terrible joke had been played on him. The voice of Ashera, just the way he had always imagined it, sounded in his head as her thoughts spoke to him. The best of women, but trapped in such a dreadful lump of flesh. Pathos, rather than desire filled him.
Are the children giving these pitiful wretches to me? Do they expect me to wife them? The had children spoken of “ones he would choose a and ones he would father”.
Can these hags even bear children? he asked himself. Marai doubted even the goddess herself would take interest in making that happen.
The little one, he sensed, could not make them in her belly at all. The others bore such diseased and scarred wombs from regular onslaughts of herbal preparations to flush the belly of an unwelcome ripening child that they had become sterile.
He looked up at the ceiling of the hut for a moment. Brilliant fingers of light probed the room through the cracks in the roof. The heat of the day had begun to suck the rest of the cool night air out of the little room. He might rest through the heat, but he wouldn’t be able to stay after dusk. When night approached it was always a better time to set out on a journey, if one was in a crowd. He knew from memory, that if the four of them walked through the night they would reach Mis-El station on the road before the heat of the next day settled in.
Perhaps, Marai thought, it will be better to go to the children’s star boat first. Ma
ybe vessel in the sand would be the best place to shelter, until he could come up with a way to make the journey more handily.
I can’t stay here... The shepherd sent the elder woman his thought. I was just passing through on my way to the Copper Road. I’m going to Kemet—and then into the White Wall city, when I’m rested.
Why? Wise Mama’s tired thoughts asked. Leave us here, then? Marai sensed her pride and independence asserting itself; trying to let him know she could take care of herself just fine without him or anyone else.
I’ ll see you three safe along the way. Let them know what I have to do, Wise MaMa ...and then let’s rest We should all rest until the sun is down...We’ ll pack all we can on the asses. Marai smiled a little, waiting for the elder woman’s reaction. He needed to know if she understood him.
Uh...I can’t go... Her thoughts reacted instantly as she bowed her head, wincing in pain.
“Ayeee” she gasped, gripping her gut, as if her pressing on the swelling in her belly might relieve the agony.
Marai leaned forward in sympathy.
The Bone Woman edged closer, sensing the elder woman’s pain. Her low and gentle voice explained:
She’s dying, Man Sun. We know you can’t stay here, but she’s too weak to go anywhere. Perhaps...her pain... The dark-skinned woman indicated that perhaps Marai might lay hands on her and heal her.
Marai didn’t think he could do that, but he knew he could at least try to comfort her, the way one comforts an ewe suffering from a troublesome lambing.
“May I?” He asked her with spoken words this time. The elder woman nodded and took his hand in her gnarled fingers. She placed it on her belly beneath her own hands. Marai felt several large hard and bone-like swellings, under the surface of her skin. There were hideous tumors beneath her breasts. The disease had made her skin turn golden and eyes become yellow. Her nail beds were brown. For a moment, her pain eased a little, but there was no miracle cure. He knew the old woman could die at any moment. Perhaps if they rested now, she might not even wake from that. If he could get her to the star boat, Marai thought, perhaps the Children might be able to cure her.
I want all of you to come at least part of the way with me. I have something wonderful to show you. The shepherd projected his next thought so impulsively that he even startled himself. He sat waiting for the women to consider his offer. then turned his attention to the mat by the door. Marai didn’t want to take them with him the whole way to Kemet, but he felt he had no other humane choice. The older woman probably would die on the way, but, in his opinion, it was better for her to die moving toward hope, than die abandoned.
The speed with which the shepherd’s idea of the future had already changed left him feeling more than a little distraught. These women had so suddenly become part of his life. He lay back, exhausted with the gloom of this prospect. Everything about the changes the Children of Stone had made in him was still so new that it stunned him: his appearance, his strength and new abilities, the deaths of the men, his gift of seeing into people’s thoughts and into their lives. Now, it seemed, even “rest” was never going to be the same.
As he lay back, Marai sensed the women reflecting and exchanging thoughts with each other on a level even he could not sense. Led by the Bone Woman, who assisted the suffering older one into a more comfortable position, the three moved forward to a cleared off place on the packed earth floor where they had placed a large reed mat. When he lay back, they lay next to him, cuddling about him, as if he was a giant pillow.
In an odd, but comforted instant, as his eyes closed and he sighed out, he felt his will rippling out of his conscious thought. It rose, housed in his shadow self, beginning a dream journey.
Soon, he found himself in a gray place similar to the white clouded places he had seen inside the children’s star boat. If the children’s vessel had seemed huge inside, this place was limitless and vast. There were no walls or buildings within sight to give him any bearings. There were no true clouds. An image of a frail old man lying on a dark, sumptuously-padded couch took form in the grayness. The old one roused himself and sat up, then stared solemnly, as if he had been expecting to meet the shepherd. Marai recognized him as one of the two superimposed forms of the elder wizard Djedi. Tis one was slimmer.
You are Djedi or the disciple? The shepherd a asked the now solid vision. The one I’m being sent to Kemet to meet? Marai could hardly contain his delight, but the feeling quickly soured.
You expect much to be coming here, man of the wilderness. There is little I can teach you. The elder fired back at him with all of the bitterness of a crabby old man wakened from an afternoon nap. Your current tutors know this well enough, but insist on this charade of having me welcome you into the Halls of Wisdom. They can suffice to teach you handsomely without ever sending you here. A sigh of disdain escaped the old man’s somewhat ethereal form. I need you not. he continued. Now turn around and look. See stretched behind you the silver thread of your life? Go! Grab it hard and follow it back into your ba like a lifeline tethering you to your mundane existence and leave me alone to the bliss of my meditations. The old man’s thin eyelids twitched as if he were half bored, yet half amused at the stern tone of his own spirit voice. He sat on his couch, staring directly into Marai’s eyes. The vision suddenly changed.
A slim woman who resembled Marai’s young wife Ilara stood behind the wiry old man. Her curly dark hair was in disarray, but a scarf hid her face. The shepherd couldn’t see her clearly enough to make out her features. She reached out to him, silently, imploring.
Marai...My bright son of Ahu, my husband of just one year... why do you leave me? Her voice whispered. She was weeping that he dared to think of abandoning the cave shelter where they had lived. Sadness and regret consumed him for a moment. He tried to warm his spirit with pleasant thoughts of roaming the hills with the sheep on a sunny afternoon; of lying back and looking for shapes of the gods the clouds. The image of his dead wife faded back into the illusory mist that this “Djedi” had woven The old man continued bitterly.
Marai knew this “Djedi” had preyed on his memory of his wife, used it and turned it into a tool to break his resolve. Hardness started to form in the pit of his stomach. Marai wasn’t in the mood for anything more than getting some rest.
Now they lead you on. The voice and image of the priest continued from the tableau in the gray place where Marai was dreaming. You were enticed by your new powers and the glorious form they have given you. Do you even know what they really are? Did you blindly accept them, in your lust for beauty, your desire to be the tragic Dumuzi of your legends who by the way is killed? Did you give them more freedom with your body than would a desperate woman of no value? But that’s what you are...a desperate man. fawning for your punishing goddess whose scorn made you unable! Now you turn to seek wisdom instead of sex, as if it were another teat on which to suckle. The specter chattered, angrily.
Marai’s attempt at tranquility fled before the cold blast of this “Djedi’s” wintery thoughts. All the shepherd knew was that the children implied he would be taught by one who was the greatest mind on Earth, yet he had sensed the Djedi he had been looking for was already dead. This image, a different priest, seemed equally old, but very much alive. He was certainly skilled. The mere specter of the old man had casually reached into his heart and identified his deepest fear almost before he had realized the name of it.
Marai didn’t know much about the “Children of Stone”. The few things they had told him were in song and verse. These songs were more beautiful than factual. The shepherd thought for a moment. He remembered them telling him that long ago they came to aid man. They walked in flesh as gods, building, teaching and lifting mankind from his beast beginnings. Eventually all but one had ascended back into the realm of the stars to take another more elevated form. In this form they advised and taught remotely...as spirits, or as Marai called them, djin. They sought, one last time, to reclaim the lost souls still trapped between realms–
to call them home...The name they had given him was the one they used in the song.
The Children of Stone Marai breathed an answer.
That is what the men of Earth will call them. The haughty, superior stare of the ghostly priest’s form silvered before Marai’s eyes. That, and more likely true Ntr, of which they are but one race among many in the outer realm of stars. The shade of this new Djedi laughed just a little.
Marai felt the priest’s form dissolve into the gray where he stood. When the mere vibration of the title “ntr”, which he thought merely meant “gods” passed through him, it unleashed such a jolt that the shepherd temporarily lost all sense of himself. The stone at his brow leapt into prominence. Something vile, perhaps a phrase of compelling, or a word of power was secretly housed in that word. Marai’s ears couldn’t hear it, but the place at his brow reeled at the unheard sensation. All of his extremities trembled and his humble dinner began to rise in his throat.
Hurts, doesn’t it? To be used like that? The priest added dryly. I see they’ve implanted you with their crystal of knowledge?
Marai shook his head again and again until the image cleared. The priest was still seated on his padded couch, as calmly and casually as if he had been receiving afternoon company.
This only assists you so that your unschooled self would survive the first scrutiny, should you arrive to sit at our feet after all. Our truths are not intended for the mundane learner. It takes years of selection time; rigorous training and testing. The old man chortled, inspecting his nails in an almost disinterested manner. I’m cruel, you think...but I had to see the manner of discipline they had given a mere brute such as yourself if they would dare to send you to work your way through our mysteries. A little cruelty can...never mind...The image checked its own sermon, as if the priest knew he had said too much.
They told you the thing they put in your forehead is a helper and a guardian device? It enables you to perform the godlike acts? And what an ungrateful thing you would have been, not to obey their dictates after they had so gifted you! Just Look at you! But again...the blind and naïve trust proves at once you are far too simple to handle our sacred truths! The priest queried, and answered his own questions without Marai’s still dizzy response. You’ve also seen how they use their own will, instead of yours, whenever it suits them. The elder reminded the shepherd. You’ ll fight it at first, but, as their new made avatar, they can’t afford to have you running about out of control. Soon enough, you’ ll not know which part is your will and which is theirs. If you fight them for control, or think you can dig the stone out of your head...well you can try, but it won’t come out until you are dead, and now that too is no longer the province of any god of Earth. They alone will decide when they are tired of using you, and leave your carcass where they will! Madness gleamed in the elder’s shadow.
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