by Shannah Jay
'Who are you?' asked a harsh voice. 'No one has ever survived the Vortex before. Who are you, wild woman?'
Herra turned round, still panting from her exertions. A man was standing behind her, an arrogant-looking fellow with one hand on his hip and the other held loosely near his dagger. Did he fear that she would attack him?
'Who asks?' she replied, her voice rasping in her dry throat, but her head held as proudly as his.
'One who has the right!' the man snarled. 'One who rules this land.'
'I'll give you my name in return for your own.'
'Be verry careful how you speak to me, strranger!'
'Indeed, we should all be careful how we speak to strangers,' she tossed back at him. 'And know that I, too, am a ruler of my own kind.' Something was guiding her reactions, telling her not to show meekness. She could feel a pressure upon her mind, like nothing she had ever sensed before. The man standing before her was large and menacing, and the dagger was not there for display, yet it seemed to her that if she didn’t hold her own and make him respect her in this first encounter, her companions would perish.
There was a moment's silence while he gave consideration to what she’d said. Herra watched him carefully, ready to still him if he attempted to draw his dagger on her. Silence stood sentinel between them for several long minutes, but she didn’t intend to be the first to break it, so gathered her patience around her like a cloak and waited.
* * *
(Speech is a poor substitute for telepathy. Let those who can do so, interpret this exchange more fully.)
'She's learning. she needed less help there than I’d expected.'
'This is the most hopeful pattern we’ve yet developed, and Herra is its pivot.'
'I agree.'
'Shall we let it continue? Are these trends promising enough?'
'Yes, continue.'
'Continue.'
'Then the three of us are unanimous. But this pattern has been slow in developing.'
'Yet it has always seemed to offer hope, else we would not have persevered for so long? And now, at last, there is a real possibility of a second-stage breakthrough.'
'We nearly achieved breakthrough with the deleff.'
'I still find it hard to understand how we went wrong with them - or what they have become
'They've moved along a strange path, one which we cannot follow, or even understand.'
'We must now focus our efforts on the Kindred of the God. Leave the Confederation to its own devices for a while.'
'Is another intervention needed here? Another manifestation, perhaps?'
'No, I think not. We overestimated Davred's readiness, but he's still acting as the necessary catalyst and linking the two parts of the pattern. Perhaps we shall yet retrieve something from the Confederation planets through him.'
'Perhaps. But it goes so slowly! And Discord is still spreading.'
'Yes. It has ever lapped at our heels.'
'Don't forget the unexpected developments with Soo and Mak. Who would have thought them capable of the necessary rapport? That, too, is a promising strand. So the Confederation may not be a total loss.'
'Then further intervention doesn't seem called for at this stage, then. We shall just have to wait longer for Davred to achieve his potential than we’d estimated.'
'And what of Katia?'
'She, too, is developing well, but slowly.'
'Why did the deleff intervene there? Why twins? And how did they do it?'
'Who knows? We no longer understand them. Our own hopes for breakthrough lie with the Kindred. We must monitor this crucial stage very carefully. We have been remiss at times in the past. Who would have expected Those of the Serpent to grow so strong in such a short time?'
'If only the energy drain were not so high! We cannot linger here for too long without materialising.'
There was a moment's silence, then the last speaker said briskly, 'Well, then, Terraccalliss, let's return to debate future interventions in more comfort. It's Ebrlk's turn to keep watch. Till then, leave the key players to develop at their own pace. Ebrlk can summon us if another crisis occurs.'
'Or if the time grows ripe for Herra to join us.'
'That is not yet to be.'
'But the time approaches. There can be little doubt now that she will pass through all the necessary stages. She'll be the first to join us for aeons.'
'You're confident of her.'
'I'm confident of nothing. But this pattern is promising. And Herra is very close to a personal breakthrough.'
'It would seem so.'
CHAPTER 11 QUEDRAS OF THE SANDRIMS
'My name is Quedras - Quedras of the Sandrims.' The man said his name proudly, as if he expected Herra to recognise it and show awe. When she didn’t, he frowned. 'Whence come you, woman, that you know not my name?'
She found his speech strange, with the Rs rolled strongly and a harsh, aggressive timbre. 'I come from the Twelve Claims, which is far beyond the land of the deleff.'
'I've heard of these places from others who've crossed the desert,' he allowed. 'What is your name? Why do you not tell me? You have mine!'
'My name is Herra. I am the Elder Sister of the Kindred of the God.'
'I don't understand this Elder Sister. And how can a creature of flesh and blood be kindred to any god?'
Weariness suddenly overtook her and she swayed on her feet. 'I shall be happy to explain later, Quedras, but now I ask your help for myself and for my friends, who are still out there in the desert.'
'They'll be dead.' His voice was flat, uninterested. 'Or worse, sand-mad.'
'They aren't dead. I'd know it if they were.'
He laughed. 'Woman, no one has ever survived out there when the Vortex searches for life.'
'I did.'
He opened his mouth, then shut it and frowned at her. 'Yes. Strrange. I don't understand how you managed that. You're a small woman. Very small. And getting old. Not a fighter at all, by the looks of you.' He felt her arm and nodded grudgingly, 'Though you're well-muscled, for such a small woman. How old are you?'
'Two hundred and forty-three.'
The scowl returned. 'I do not appreciate lies when I ask an honest question. Be careful, old woman! Do not anger Quedras!'
'I haven't told you any lies, Quedras. I am a Sister of the God, one of the Kindred of the God. Many of my Sisters have lived longer than a hundred and fifty years. For us, that is not unusual.'
'You look no more than fifty, and I'd not say that much, even, were it not for the look in your eyes.' He stared at her again, shaking his head very slightly from side to side. 'No, I cannot believe you!'
' Believe me, Quedras, for it is the truth.'
He swallowed and for the first time lost some of his cockiness. 'How is this possible? To live so long - can anyone do this?'
'No. It's a Gift one is born with, and even with such a Gift, it isn't easy. It requires complete dedication to a special way of life. In the Sisterhood, we spend years learning Disciplines which help us to care for our bodies.
We also develop special skills for helping others. We use our Gifts in the service of our Brother the God, who gave them to us. I, for instance, am a Healer.'
'Ha! A Healer! Ha!' He slapped his hand against his leg several times. 'That would be the same as a body-doctor, yes?'
'I would imagine so.'
'Ha!' The suspicion and hostility with which he was regarding her diminished. 'Quequere be prraised! You are the one I seek, after all! Know that I was sent here to meet you, woman of the Vortex.'
'What do you mean "sent"?'
He strutted up and down, gesticulating vigorously as he spoke. 'I sought help of Quequere, who told me to go to the edge of the desert, where I would meet one sent to help me, a body-doctor with grreat powers.'
'Who is Quequere?'
'The One Who Lives in the Mountain. Always there is Quequere, though the body which carries the Voice changes from time to time. He is very old, very wise, and
has long guided our steps. Like a god,' he frowned and shook his head, 'but not a god. Quequere must not be called a god. Yesterday, when I went to ask for help, he spoke to me and sent me to find you. So you see,' his voice was jubilant, 'there is a purpose in your arrival here at this time. He must have spoken to your God.'
'If you say so.'
'And,' he continued, eyes sparkling, 'there will be no trouble in your acceptance by the community. If you are indeed a body-doctor, it will be easy for you to prove your usefulness.'
She was too weary to try to understand all he said, so concentrated on the most urgent point. 'Why do you need a Healer?'
'My friend and partner is ill. Cure her and you shall be assured of a place among us, in spite of your age.'
'I need no bribes. I would try to cure her anyway. I couldn't turn away from anyone in need of my help.
But I can't promise to succeed, Quedras. No one has the power to cure all ills.'
He was undaunted. 'If Quequere has promised it, you shall succeed. It is always so. Come!' He turned to leave.
Herra didn’t move, and he spun back to scowl at her. 'What is it now? Aha! You have been lying to me.
You aren't a body-doctor! You just thrrow words in the air to save your skin.' As he grew angry, he rolled his rr more and more.
'I am a Healer, and I'll gladly try to heal your friend, but I've only just come out of the desert. I'm exhausted and my mouth is parched.' She knew not why she delayed, but it seemed right, so she let her Brother guide her. 'You've offered me no hospitality, and I shall need food and drink before I dare undertake a Healing. It's never an easy task, and today I'm exhausted before I start.'
He folded his arms and stared down at her. 'If I offer you hospitality first, then I must protect you like a blood sister, whether you succeed or not. And you have not yet prroved your usefulness to the community.
We of Quequere do not lightly offer hospitality.'
'If you don't give me food and drink, I shall not find it easy to trust you, either. And, more to the point, I shall have difficulty with the Healing.'
'Ha! You are not stupid in your persuasions!' He continued to stare at her, eyes narrowed, then threw back his head and laughed. 'Well, clever woman, I shall take the rrisk that you're worth it.' He made a signal with his hand and three people slipped out from behind rocks.
'Why don't your other two friends join us as well?' asked Herra mildly. 'Or do they enjoy crouching behind rocks?'
He became rigid. 'How did you know of them? They haven't shown themselves in any way.'
'I know such things because it's one of my Gifts. I can sense a person's life energy at a distance.' She decided to give him a little more food for thought and added, pointing. 'Your camp is in that direction, and there are many people there.'
He drew in his breath sharply, then blew it out again in a whoosh. 'Haaa! I shall enjoy dealing with you, clever woman. Quedrieff! Give me bread and water for our guest.'
His followers' expressions betrayed shock at this command. Herra stood motionless as one of the men disappeared behind the rocks, though she was longing to sit down and rest. A minor Discipline would have helped her to regain a little strength, but she dared not take the time. Since Quedras made no more attempts to converse, she also kept silent. Since he stood motionless, so too did she.
When the man returned with a pack, Quedras sat down, without waiting for Herra. He remained there, cross-legged, hands on his knees, until she followed suit. The other man passed him a piece of bread, scowling at Herra as he did so. Quedras broke the piece of bread in two and offered her one piece. When she took it from him, she thanked him and waited for him to tell her what to do.
'You know not the rritual!' he exclaimed. 'Ha! That isn’t good! Rrisky!' He seemed doubtful whether to continue.
'I know not this ritual, Quedras, but I'll follow your lead. Each group that lives together has its own ways, its own rituals. Maybe some of our ways will interest you, as yours will interest us.'
'Maybe. But it's me who's taking the rrisk, healer woman.' He shook his head, still undecided, eyed Herra, stared at the pieces of bread, then shrugged. Palm outstretched, he raised the bread towards the mountain and intoned, 'Quequere, look down upon us. Look down and bless this brread. Accept the stranger within our camp.' He looked at Herra and gestured to her to follow suit, but she couldn’t pray to his Quequere, so she changed the words slightly.
'Brother, look down upon us. Look down and bless this bread. Bless this stranger who makes me welcome.'
Head on one side, Quedras considered this, then shrugged again. 'It’ll do, I suppose.' He crammed the bread into his mouth, chewing noisily, heedless of the crumbs of crust that caught in his curly beard, then he swallowed with an audible gulp and looked expectantly at Herra. She ate her piece of bread more slowly, her mouth so dry it was hard to swallow. He must have known that, yet he didn’t offer her water.
Only when she had finished did Quedras take a leather flask from the man behind him and pull out the stopper. He first poured a libation on the ground and intoned, 'Quequere, accept this water, and accept the stranger who shares it with us,' before swallowing a mouthful and passing the flask to Herra.
'Brother, look down and bless this water. Bless the stranger who shares it with me.' A sudden breeze sprayed her libation across the rocky ground, making Quedras hiss in surprise. 'Quequere, too, accepts your offering, old woman.'
She inclined her head, then raised the flask and drank. The liquid was cool and sweet-tasting in her mouth.
If it hadn’t been a ritual, she’d have drunk twice as much, but Quedras reached for the flask as soon as she’d finished one long swallow. As he didn’t offer her more, she didn’t ask for any.
The brief ritual finished, Quedras stood up. 'Well, clever woman, I will explain our ways a little. You are now safe with me, unless I rrepudiate you, and even then, I must give you a day's warning, so that you may try to gain safety elsewhere.' He grinned nastily. 'Not that you could. I control all the Sandrims for three days'
march. But I do not brreak my word.'
'Nor do I. Give me food and drink to strengthen my body, then take me to your wife.'
'Wife! We don’t take wives here! That is a foolish prractice. Some who’ve managed to cross the desert from Dsheresh Kashal have tried to urge it, but we have our ways, and if people don't like them, then they can go and find another community to join. We of Quequere live and fight together, and share beds too, if we feel like it, but we need no word chains to tie us to one other. Querilla is my lover and my friend, but she is free, as I am, to change her sleeping partner. We stay together by choice only.'
'What about the children of your community, then? Who raises them?'
A titter ran round the group and Quedras raised his eyes to the sky as if she had asked an imbecilic question. 'Those of our community who are too old to fight or to do hard labour look after the children, of course! Who else? Shall we waste people's knowledge because their bodies grow weaker? Who raises the children in the Twelve Claims?'
'Family groups used to do that, but now we have an Age of Discord and the old ways are changed. Those of the Serpent rule the Twelve Claims - and rule harshly. Now, it’s the women who must stay at home and raise the children.'
'Even if they're good fighters?' he asked incredulously.
'Women don’t fight. Those of the Serpent allow them no opportunity to learn anything save pleasing men, running their homes, and breeding and raising their children.'
'Ha! This is stupid! This is trruly without any sense! And your friends, these - what did you call them? -
these Kindred of the God, what are they doing to stop it? Or do they just allow these snake lovers to do as they please?'
'We haven't exactly allowed it, Quedras. ' She explained the situation, ending, 'So we've joined with the men and become the Kindred of the God, united in a struggle against Those of the Serpent.'
Quedras had listened with interest. 'How
many?' he asked as she paused.
'I beg your pardon?'
'I asked how many you have for fighting against these evil snake-lovers?'
'Nine.'
' Nine? Only nine to fight such a war?' He stared at her for a moment, then clicked his tongue in disapproval. 'You are trruly crazy, woman. Yet - you don’t seem to be afflicted with madness, whether bred of the sand or of anything else.'
'I'm not mad. And the nine of us are only a beginning, of course. We can’t begin to fight Those of the Serpent openly yet.'
He shook his head. 'Nine. It is rridiculous!'
'We shall succeed in our Quest. This I know, for the God has whispered in my ear.'
'You can see the future? You speak with the Voice of Foreknowledge?'
'Sometimes.'
'Then - you must be another such as Quequere.'
'Perhaps. But you needn’t worry about such problems now, friend Quedras. It is not, after all, your Quest, and you are not involved in our struggle.'
'Ha! Indeed it is not! And I am many things - not all good, as Quequere knows - but I am not crrazy enough to fight a war with nine people!'
'Nor I, Quedras. Nor I. The war comes later.' Unfortunately.
They had been walking briskly along a narrow path that twisted up and down the shallow slopes, always avoiding direct contact with the sandy bottoms where the desert stretched its dusty fingers into the foothills.
'Your path never touches or crosses the sand, though that would often make the way shorter,' Herra remarked. 'Is there a reason for this?
Again her companions exchanged glances, as if she had said something utterly stupid.
'Of course there is a rreason. Are we fools? The less contact we have with that white desert sand, the better. Too much contact with it can lead to sand-madness. The sand is dangerous in many ways. Every crossing of even the smallest tract is a grreat rrisk, for the Sand Vortex rises swiftly, spinning out of nowhere to suck the life from one's body. You will learn to avoid the sand, crrazy woman - if you live long enough!'