He dragged me to my feet swiftly. Another man seized Birana by the hair as he drew out his knife.
“Hold!” a voice shouted.
A hand lifted the reed mat. A gray-haired man stepped outside. Jerlan let go as this man motioned to me.
“I shall call these two travelers to speak to me,” the Prayergiver said. “I’ll decide if they are holy or unholy. The Lady will protect me from any unholiness, and I am not so feeble that others must protect me as well. Let them enter, then leave this place so that we may talk freely.”
Birana hung her chain around her neck. We entered the Prayergiver’s hut.
The man let the mat fall. Now that I was closer to him, I saw that, despite his gray hair, he was younger than I had expected. “You may sit,” he said. “The others are gone. Don’t think you can strike at me, or you will die when you leave this house.”
I showed him my empty hands, keeping them before me as I sat down. Light shone through an opening between the roof and the upper part of the wall. From a hole in the center of the roof, a wide beam of sunlight fell on ashes surrounded by rocks. On the ground, set against the wall of upright trunks, lay a mat and two hides, but another object had caught my eye. A small figure of wood, crudely carved, stood next to the mat. The head of this image had no features and its arms were only stumps, but two mounds had been carved on its chest while the space between its legs was smooth.
The Prayergiver seated himself. “I heard you speak of spells and holiness,” he continued. “Know that I am one who has seen true holiness and lives with it daily. You cannot deceive me.”
“I am called Arvil,” I responded, “and I too have seen holiness. Gaze upon the one with me, the one called Spellweaver, and tell me what you see.”
He leaned forward. Birana stood up, knowing what she would have to do, but her eyes were lowered and her face aflame. She took off her shirt and then lowered her pants. I wanted to leap up and conceal her body from this man, from all men.
“Tell me what She is,” I said.
He held up a hand. “She is a holy aspect, and you are Her messenger.” He stared at her for a long moment, then covered his eyes. Birana’s hands trembled as she put on her garments.
As she sat down, she began to speak the words I had given her the night before. “I come among you to test you. It was My wish to reveal Myself to you, a holy man, but to keep the guise of a boy before others because they must not know what I am. Arvil is My true servant, for I chose him from among all men to travel with Me to this place.” She said these words calmly, but strain and fear marked her face.
The Prayergiver’s hand fell, but he kept his eyes down. I had thought he would grovel. Perhaps he was too awed to move, or perhaps he was certain of his place in the Lady’s thoughts. “You are to have a truthsaying. Shall my band know of You then, Holy Lady?”
“There must be no truthsaying for Arvil and Me, Prayergiver,” she replied. “If the magic in us were released, it would overcome your band. They must not know what I am, though I will bless them in My thoughts.”
“I know Your nature, Holy One. No longer will Your garb conceal Your form from me, for I know what is hidden. Others with sharp eyes will know a vision has been imparted to me when I step from this house. If You dwell among us for long, others will see what You are.”
“I cannot stay here,” she said. “I must travel to another place.”
He looked up at her then. “I think I know what You seek. You are not the first holy vision I have beheld.”
Birana’s eyes widened. “You will take us to the place where you saw this vision.”
The Prayergiver shielded his face. “Forgive me, but I do not know if I can. I was told I must never enter that place again.”
Birana said, “You will be going there with Me.”
“Lady, forgive me, but they may not see what You are when we approach. I see that You wear a body of flesh and bone, and although You must have the power to shield Yourself, You may bring a curse on that other band should they raise their weapons against You before they know the truth. You may bring a curse upon me for leading You into such danger.”
This man was wise, and his eyes saw much. He believed Birana had hidden powers she could use, for his awe of the Lady would not allow him to think anything else. Yet his eyes had seen her weakness, had shown him her vulnerability.
“I cannot stay here.” Her voice was fainter, more desperate.
“Forgive me, Holy Lady, but it might be best if You did for a time. A man of that other band may come here to fetch a boy to take back with him, and I could tell him of the vision You have shown me. You could then travel safely with him to the place where all the Prayergivers saw holiness.”
Birana was silent. I knew that she wanted to ask him exactly what he had seen there, but could not without revealing that she was not as all-knowing as the Prayergiver thought.
“Will such a man come here soon?” I asked.
“I cannot say. He will come, but he may not travel here this season or the next. He might come during another summer. I cannot know, unless it is in Your power to summon one here.”
Birana’s hands tightened into fists. I wondered what she would say. The Prayergiver was studying her, perhaps curious about how many powers she seemed to lack.
“I shall do my best,” he said at last, “to see that Your secret is kept here if that is Your will.”
“I cannot wait,” she said. “You must find a way for Me and My servant Arvil to travel to the place where you saw your vision. Whatever befalls this form I wear, I promise you that you will be free from blame and that your band will not suffer. You must guide Me. My powers grow weaker in your world and must be restored to Me in that other place. I am testing you. You must not fail My test.”
He sighed; his beardless face had the look of a man contending with himself. “I fear this test,” he said, “but if You will it, then I must go with You. I shall bring the best men with me to lead You there.”
She shook her head. “No others. We must go alone. It is only you who must know what I am, and on you rests the fate of your band. You must never tell your men what I am.”
“I swear to You I will not. I’ve kept holy secrets for a long time.” His dark eyes narrowed. “But my men will be wondering what has been said in here. How can I utter false words before an aspect when I speak to them?”
“You need not say false words,” I said, “only words that do not reveal all of the truth.”
He rubbed at his face, then got up, bowed to Birana, and went to the spot where his belongings lay. From under the hides, he took a small round object with a piece of hide stretched across it.
We followed him outside. The clearing was empty, but eyes peered at us from the doors of dwellings. As we sat down, the Prayergiver struck the hide with his hands and made the sound of a heart beating. “Come out!” he cried. “Your Prayergiver has words for you.”
Men and boys emerged from the dwellings and quickly seated themselves in the open space. On the wall, the men guarding the camp looked toward us. “You, there,” the Prayergiver said to the nearest boy. “Mark my words, and then go to those on the wall and to those hidden by the trail and tell them all that I have said.”
The men waited. Their Headman sat among them, his wide bulk dwarfing those next to him, his face set in a frown. “You will prepare the feast,” the Prayergiver said, “and we shall eat of it tonight, but I tell you that these two travelers will not join our band.”
The men muttered at this. The Headman suddenly stood up and strode toward us, then sat down before the Prayergiver. “I’ll say what will happen.” The Headman struck his chest. “You have honor as our Prayergiver, but I am Headman. We have not yet had our truthsaying. These two cannot leave until they have passed through it.”
“There has been another kind of truthsaying inside my house. These two have been touched by holiness and have revealed a vision to me, one of such power that I cannot speak of it. Their place i
s with the band to the east where I saw a holy vision so long ago. We shall have our feast and honor them for revealing more holiness to me, and then I’ll take them to that other band.”
“It must be so,” Jerlan called out. “I see by the Prayergiver’s face that he speaks truly.”
The Headman hit the ground with his fist. “I am Headman! I say that they must drink so we know the truth about them.”
“Do you question me, Irlan?” The Prayergiver tensed. “I know more of holy matters than anyone here. Do you question one who must live closer to holiness than all of you, and who will know a true vision?”
Irlan’s lip curled. “Even a holy man might be deceived. How do you know that some evil hasn’t cloaked itself in the guise of good? You say these two were touched by holiness. I see only a strange boy, who tends beasts and has not shown skill at other crafts, and a strange man, who is hardly more than a boy himself. Jerlan says they have no band, but perhaps they have lied and will lead their band here later.”
“They wish nothing from us, only to be led to that other camp.”
“If you take them there, you may only bring evil upon us all.”
The men in the clearing were now whispering among themselves in their own tongue. Some were looking at Irlan, while others gazed at the Prayergiver, as if not knowing which man to believe.
The Prayergiver leaned forward until his face was close to the Headman’s. Still using the holy speech, he said, “The vision I saw was a true one, and I won’t have you bring a curse upon us by denying it.” He spoke so softly that none of the others could hear, and even I, sitting beside him, could barely catch his words. “Perhaps we must settle this as we settle other disagreements. I can cast off my holy duties for a time, and we can contend as two men only. The victor can decide what comes to pass.”
Irlan grinned. “You are an old man, Prayergiver.”
“And you are a fat one who has not hunted for many seasons. When I contend with you as Girlan, the man I once was, we will be matched.”
“I am ready to fight you,” Irlan whispered.
“Never before has a Prayergiver had to contend with a Headman, and I wonder what will come of it. There is no way to settle this with only a test of skill. This must be a battle to the death.”
Irlan pressed his lips together.
“If I die, you must become Prayergiver. You will then know what these two travelers are when their vision is imparted to you, and you will suffer for knowing I spoke truthfully. You will spend the rest of your life in prayer, inside my house, atoning for your deed and saying the prayers we require, and I don’t know if you are ready for such a life.”
The Headman’s eyes shifted a little.
“But I may win, for the spirit of the Lady guides me. I may choose to be merciful and spare your life, but the others will see that you cannot remain Headman and cannot be Prayergiver, either. I wonder if you could stay among us then. Very well, Irlan. Say now if we must put aside our bond as band members to settle this. I have spoken softly, and no one has heard. You won’t lose your pride if you rise up now and tell the men we will do as I wish.”
Irlan was silent, then lifted his head and gazed at me with such hatred that I almost looked away. I had witnessed his loss of face. It came to me that the Headman would seek to regain it somehow.
Irlan stood up, grunting as he lifted his heavy body, then turned to face the others. “It is my duty to protect this band,” he bellowed, “but I see now that we are in no danger from these two travelers. I shall heed the Prayergiver, and we’ll have our feast, but there will be no truthsaying tonight.” He puffed out his chest as he walked toward his men.
The Prayergiver rose and motioned to us. “I shall walk with the travelers to their shelter.”
The men parted as we walked past. Jerlan nodded at me while Tulan smiled. Jerlan, I saw, had forgotten his angry words. Irlan stood with a small group of men, but their eyes were hard as they gazed at us. The Headman had spoken, but he had not settled this matter in his mind.
“I would have you abide in my house,” the Prayergiver said to me as we came to my shelter, “but a Prayergiver must dwell alone. Since you are not to join us, you should remain here, outside our dwellings.”
“You spoke bravely to the Headman,” I said.
“I drew courage from the Holy One.” He made a gesture of respect to Birana. “She would have lent me Her strength in a fight.”
I frowned. “But he is still angry.”
“Irlan is full of bluster. When I chose him as Headman, he was strong and brave, and yet I sensed then that he might be one who should follow rather than lead. But the others wanted him as Headman and would not easily have accepted another, so I chose him.”
“We didn’t seek to divide your band, Prayergiver.”
“You will soon be gone, and Irlan will bluster and then forget. Rest easy, Arvil.” But I saw the doubt in his eyes before he turned away.
For the feast that night, we were taken to one of the dwellings. The men had placed mats around their hearth, and there they sang songs and spoke among themselves as they passed soup and fish to us. One of the men began to ask me what I had revealed to the Prayergiver, but the older man, who had come to sit with us, shook his head.
“Know that the magic I saw,” he said in the holy speech, “was for my eyes alone, and that it would dazzle one who has not lived in prayer and contemplation for as long as I have.”
From that dwelling we passed to another, where we ate meat and leaves from their gardens, and then to the house where Irlan lived with the hunters closest to him. As the others feasted, Irlan’s face darkened, and his eyes were often on me.
When the feast was over, some of the men left their dwellings to dance in the open space. The hunters gestured with their spears while those who gardened made motions at the ground with tools made of antlers and wood.
Jerlan came to me as Birana and I watched this dance. “I am sorry you won’t stay with us,” he said. “I am sorry that you didn’t tell me your true purpose when we hunted together. I would have sat outside the Prayergiver’s hut myself, waiting until he summoned me, and would then have asked him to summon you.”
“It wasn’t time to speak of it, Jerlan. My vision bid me to stay among you for a time until your virtue was revealed.” The false words fell easily from my lips. I looked down at Birana and felt a sadness then. I might have found a place with this band. I might have hunted with Jerlan and become his true friend.
I saw my life then not as one life, but as many forking paths, and a phantom Arvil seemed to stand with me, one who had walked another path and had come to another place. I saw that other Arvil join these men, and he seemed as real to me as my own body.
I shook off these thoughts. Had Birana not been with me, I would never have seen this camp at all, or have known of its ways. I would have been with Wise Soul and Wanderer, living as they did, with my questions forever unanswered.
Birana had led me here, and each turn in our path had led to something new and perhaps better than what I had left behind, however much I mourned for what I had lost. Our destination might be better still. She could have left me here, now that she had the Prayergiver to guide her. She might, in front of the Prayergiver, have ordered that I stay here, and I would have followed that command or risked the Prayergiver’s wrath. She still wanted me at her side; I would follow the path she walked.
“We must sleep soon,” I said.
Jerlan walked with us to our shelter. A fire burned near it. Tulan was with the horses over by the trees, and I guessed that he had made the fire. As we settled ourselves around the flames, the boy hurried toward us.
“I fed the horses,” Tulan said. “Even Wild Spirit will take food from me. I wanted them to share the feast.” His smile faded as he sat down next to his guardian. “Will you take the horses away, too?”
“I think we must,” I said. “We’ll no longer be here to teach you more about them.” I was also thinking that, i
f we could not enter that other camp, we would have to travel on.
Tulan’s mouth drooped. “I’ll miss them, Arvil.”
“You will not miss them,” Jerlan said. “We had no need of such beasts before.”
“I will miss you, Arvil,” the boy murmured. “I will miss Spellweaver, who was to teach me how to ride. I wish…”
“What is it you wish?” his guardian asked. Tulan did not reply. “I believe I know.” Jerlan scratched his head. “I have a question, Arvil and Spellweaver. Might Tulan travel to that other camp with you and the Prayergiver? It may be that he won’t be allowed to enter, but if they admit him, he could live close by their holy vision and be touched by it. I would be happy knowing that Tulan was so blessed, and that would ease the pain of giving him up.”
Tulan gazed at me expectantly. “May I?”
I glanced at Birana. A look of sadness and longing was in her eyes. Could she have grown closer to the boy? I burned with jealousy, then chided myself silently. Tulan was only a boy who could not have left an enclave more than six summers ago. Perhaps Birana only wanted a friend who was not yet old enough to share my longing for her.
“We would gladly travel with him,” I said. Tulan clapped his hands together. “But it is your Prayergiver who must agree to this as well.”
Jerlan put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “If that camp accepts you,” he said, “you cannot return here.”
The boy leaned against his guardian. “I’d miss you, Jerlan, but I want to go. I want to be with them both, and hear their tales, and learn more of their beasts. I’ll become a man in that other camp if they take me. Someday I may come here to fetch another boy for them.”
Jerlan ruffled his hair. “We’ll see what the Prayergiver says. He risks much going to that camp, even if he is to bring them news of holiness.” He got up and pulled Tulan to his feet. “We must rest now.”
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