Keepers of the Ancient Wisdom (Kalie's Journey Book 3)

by Sandra Saidak

  “Josan?” asked Bodon. “If others had not stopped you, would you have struck Lalia with the stick?”

  Josan looked like he was about to cry. The word “no” formed on his lips, and then he looked at the statue of the Mother Goddess on the altar, and quailed. “I don’t know,” he whispered.

  Kalie felt everything she had worked for dissolving in the wake of those three simple words.

  But the townspeople surprised her. The parents of the boys looked upset, but not ready to drive out the foreign demons. Some seemed embarrassed for their children, but most looked like they were remembering their own youthful mistakes. Was this kind of thing possibly more common than Kalie remembered?

  “You were right to include Sirak in your play, and to learn of his ways as well,” said Nara. “But as you heard his words, there came a point when you needed to show him that some of those things would never be acceptable here. Who can tell me when that was?”

  The boys looked at each other. “When he said there would be no more priestesses?” ventured one timidly.

  “When he told us only men should decide things?” asked another.

  Sirak looked at them with contempt, and then turned away.

  “Correct,” said Nara. “And if he continued with such talk, what should you have done?”

  “Told a mother or father?” said Nylan.

  “Yes! These things are small, and part of how everyone learns—even adults. But when Sirak struck Lalia, then it became serious. Why did no one stop him?”

  The boys looked at each other, and it became apparent they themselves did not know.

  “Were you afraid of Sirak?” asked Bodon.

  More uncomfortable shrugging and furtive looks.

  “When something like this happens, you might not feel you can handle it yourselves,” said Nara. “And that is all right. But you should have run to get an adult, as Vasar did.” Nara and the priests looked proudly at Vasar, who only looked uncomfortable.

  Nara gazed at each of the other boys in turn. Some squirmed, but none looked away. “To atone for your mistake, you must each seek an opportunity to do a good thing for someone in this town. And, you must each apologize to Lalia for not protecting her.” Nara turned to Darva. “Do you have anything to say on this matter?”

  Darva looked like a cornered beast. Kalie saw her consider and discard many plans before she spoke. Then, before the startled people nearby could stop her, Darva leapt at her son, slapping him hard across the face and bursting into tears. “Oh, I am cursed!” she wailed. “Your wickedness will cost us our lives. These people welcomed us, and now they will cast us into the wilds to die!” Then she sat down, rocking back and forth and crying.

  “Parents, take your children home, and discuss these matters further,” said Nara, loud enough to be heard over Darva’s wailing. As the room cleared, she went to Darva, offering her a scrap of cloth to dry her eyes. “We will not send anyone in the wilds to die,” she said firmly. Darva’s tears cut off instantly.

  “Although I suspect you already knew that,” Orin said drily. “Despite your impressive performance.”

  Kalie shot the priest a look of admiration and began to relax. “We still have a problem,” said Nara, moving to sit beside Darva and Sirak. “Both of you still live by the violent ways which you have sworn to leave behind. Therefore, we will help you reach your goal by sending each of you to live with a different family. It is likely this will help you learn our ways more quickly, as living with only others of your people has not.”

  Darva finally revealed a genuine emotion: outrage. She hid it quickly behind fear, which Kalie guessed was no less real. “You would take a child from his mother?” she whispered.

  “Temporarily,” said Orin. “And you will still see each other. But this way you can get the help you need, while learning useful skills, so you can contribute to the community.” Smooth, thought Kalie. He doesn’t mention that Darva was nearly the only one of the nomads who had done little to no work since their arrival. Her opinion of this man grew even higher.

  Realizing she had just been outmaneuvered, Darva cried, “What of my daughter, Myla? She is only six, and—“

  “I’m sure she can remain where she is,” said Kalie. “She gets along well with Brenia’s two children. We would have to ask, but I believe Brenia would be happy to care for Myla until the family is reunited.” Privately, Kalie hoped Brenia would be allowed to keep Myla permanently, as little as Darva seemed to care for her. Sirak was her sun and moon.

  “That would be agreeable,” said Nara. Darva shot Kalie a look of pure hatred, but Kalie only smiled. Had they not been in a temple, she might have stuck out her tongue instead.

  “Might I speak with my son in private before we are separated?” Darva asked, holding back a sob.

  The three clerics agreed before Kalie could voice her objections. While they began to discuss possible placements for Darva and Sirak—a clear message that the meeting was over—Darva led her son out of the temple, in the direction of the woods.

  “I’ve heard there are some good places to pick mushrooms that way,” Kalie told Riyik, hurrying in the direction Darva was headed.

  “Do mushrooms grow in winter here?” Riyik asked doubtfully.

  “I’ll go find out!” Kalie called over her shoulder.

  Darva checked behind the trees carefully to make sure they were alone. She chose her place well, Kalie thought from her perch high in the biggest tree, and praying Darva did not look up. But in the steppes, danger rarely came from above.

  Sirak looked deeply troubled, and for a long while, his mother just held him. Only when he pushed her away, assuming the look of a man who would not allow himself to be babied, did Darva speak.

  “You must be more careful, son. Convince these people we truly believe their nonsense, and then you may begin again. But when that time comes you must do a better job of choosing your followers.”

  “I will never find boys I can make into warriors here!” Sirak growled. “These people are sheep! You heard them: that old woman told them to run when there is danger! And that traitor, Vasar, actually did! Although, it might have been more fun if they had all run off like rabbits. Then I could have done more than just hit that little bitch.” To Kalie’s horror, Sirak smiled, as if imagining what he would have liked to do to Lalia.

  “That may be,” Darva said firmly, drawing his attention back to her. “But you have no one else. The steppes are closed to us. And there is far more to be had here for a strong warrior and his clever mother than in that retched place we left behind.”

  “Maybe,” Sirak said doubtfully. “But this place is strange. And breeds weakness. How long am I to bow to women? And useless men who bleat?”

  “For as long as necessary.” There was an edge of command in Darva’s voice. “Listen to me, my boy,” she said, softening. “One day, you will be king of this land. The first king these fools have ever known. And when you rule, they will rush to learn our ways. But until the time is right, you must be patient. Let no one know what we are planning.”

  Sirak’s back stiffened, and he puffed out his chest. “A warrior never lets his enemy see his true thoughts. They will know nothing, Mother.” Then he glared at her. “And you will never strike me again. Is that clear?”

  “Of course, my king,” Darva said smiling, as they made their way back to the settlement.

  Kalie waited until they were long out of sight before climbing down her tree. None of what she had witnessed should have surprised her, but…

  A figure stepped out of the shadows at her feet. She nearly screamed before seeing it was Riyik—less than two paces away. He still moved like a warrior, she thought with admiration.

  “Interesting,” was all he said. Then, after a pause, “I had no idea she was so ambitious!”

  “Nor I. I do not think it will come to anything, especially once we warn people of what to watch for. But that boy is dangerous. He could cause a lot of damage before anyone sees him for
what he is.”

  “But it’s his mother who rules him for now. If she were to find…other uses for her energy…he might be left adrift. And more easily influenced in other directions.”

  “How would we manage that?” asked Kalie. “Darva is a true woman of Aahk. She places all her hopes in her son.”

  Riyik smiled at something only he could see. “I have an idea.”

  Chapter 9

  Riyik did not share his plan with Kalie over the next few days, but she was far too busy to press him. The preparations for the Winter Festival were enough to keep everyone busy, and for Kalie, an errand that could no longer be put off.

  One cold, snowy morning, just three days before the longest night of the year, Kalie took Yarik to the temple of healing to be checked by one of the healers, and fitted for new shoes. While his limp was still pronounced, he could walk without a crutch, and rarely stumbled. While a kindly old man massaged Yarik’s club foot, assisted by a young woman who could always make the boy laugh, Kalie went in search of the midwife.

  She could no longer delay confirming what she already knew.

  “Yes,” Sarella the midwife said with a smile, after completing her examination. “You are most definitely pregnant! Is this really your first?”

  Kalie nodded, distracted. “I did not think I would ever…be able to…”

  “At your age, I’m not surprised. What are you, twenty six summers? Twenty-seven?” When Kalie continued to stare out the door at the snow-covered ground, the woman’s expression changed. “You’re worried. What is it? Is this not good news?”

  “It is good news,” said Kalie. “It’s a miracle! After the damage the beastmen did when they raped me all those years ago, I thought I would never bear a child. But…I can’t be sure this is Riyik’s baby—“ Kalie broke off at the sight of Sarella’s expression. She was a healthy, attractive matron, who had probably borne several children of her own, and had dedicated her life to helping other women bring forth their own. But here it was again: the disbelief; the discomfort. Kalie was speaking of things that made no sense in this world; worrying about things that had no basis in any reality this midwife knew.

  After thanking the woman, Kalie took Yarik’s hand and led him out of the temple. She could see the difference in his gait at once. Yarik now walked perfectly normally, laughing and turning, delighting in what he could now do. Kalie watched him play in the snow with some other children, and thought about having a child of her own. This baby would be her third child, yet the first of her body. What would it be like? What would Yarik, who would be nearly four years when his new sibling arrived, think? Or Varena, who, at thirteen, was already an adult?

  Yarik fell in the snow, and Kalie scooped him up. She was setting him back on his feet when Brenia walked by. At Kalie’s expression, she stopped.

  “I’m pregnant,” Kalie said by way of greeting.

  “That’s wonderful!” said Brenia. Then her face fell. “But you’re afraid it’s not Riyik’s.” It was not a question. Brenia knew of Haraak’s rape, just days before Kalie had consummated her marriage to Riyik.

  “It would be a shame if I had to think of Haraak every time I looked at the child I’ve waited so long for. And more so if Riyik did.”

  “Riyik will love the child no matter who the father is,” said Brenia. “And so will you.”

  “Yes, I think I will,” said Kalie. “But Riyik? That is not the way he was raised.”

  “But he left those ways behind. We’re in your world, now, Kalie. My brother will not let you down.” Kalie wondered just how many meanings Brenia had attached to her words. “Although it might help if you had some privacy when you told him.”

  Brenia waded into a swirling ball of children and picked up Yarik. “Would you like to spend the night with Barak?” she asked, dusting him off.

  “Yes!” cried the boy.

  “Thank you!” Kalie called to Brenia’s retreating back.

  “A baby!” A grin spread slowly across Riyik’s face. They were in the main room of their house. Kalie had not yet begun preparing dinner, and she hoped Varena would be away a while longer. “When?” asked Riyik, picking Kalie up and spinning her around.

  “Whoa, put me down! I haven’t thrown up yet, but—“

  “Sorry, I’m just excited.” Riyik set her carefully on a large cushion by the hearth.

  “I am, too,” said Kalie. “Sometime in the summer. And I wish I didn’t have to say this, but we don’t know if you’re the father.”

  Just as she had feared, Riyik’s face hardened. “I had forgotten about Haraak.”

  “I’m glad. I wish I could as well. As far as I’m concerned, and by the customs of my people, you are the father, Riyik. But I know it’s different where you come from.”

  Riyik paced, thinking deeply. Kalie sat in silence, watching the play of emotions across his face. “I love you, Kalie, and we live in your world now,” he said at last. “Perhaps it’s best if we never know. The child will be my son,”

  “Or daughter,” Kalie said, smiling. Then, troubled again, “And we might find out when it’s born. Haraak had red hair—“

  “As does my sister.”

  Startled, Kalie could only nod.

  Riyik took her in his arms. “Our first child, born in the first year of our life together. That should be the only thing we think of.”

  And that, Kalie decided, was a very worthy goal.

  The day of the Winter Festival dawned soft and misty. Kalie felt that the weather reflected the magic and mystery of the occasion perfectly. But there would be snow later, and likely freezing wind. Due to the large population, the people of Stonebridge had developed the custom of holding a short ceremony in which everyone gathered outside in the center of town for the blessing which marked the turning of the season, then retreating to the temples and individual homes for a long string of parties and events.

  Kalie strolled through the town about an hour before sunset, watching the final preparations, and making herself available to help if the need arose. She had just come from a soak in the hot springs, and was wearing a new woolen dress, dyed a deep red. While officially in exchange for healing teas she had brought the weaver’s sick daughter, Kalie knew she had gotten the better deal. It was time she found useful work for herself, rather than helping others to find it. But that could wait until tomorrow.

  She paused by the grove of trees which grew around the main temple. All but one was bare of leaves. Towering above the others was a tree with needle-like leaves which stayed green all year round. Soon it would be covered with rush lights and tiny oil lamps, just as the similar green trees outside of town were already covered with brightly colored decorations and offerings.

  Varena came by dressed in a stunning outfit made entirely of the winter fur of reindeer. The long tunic, pants, and boots covered Varena from the neck down. But not, Kalie saw, like the shapeless felt robes of the women of the steppes; rather this showed off the girl’s fine figure. And later, when others would be wrapping themselves in fur mantles, Varena would still be warm enough to stay just as she was. Especially if she did a lot of dancing, which Kalie suspected she would.

  “You’ll probably want a hat of some kind,” she said. Varena wore only a string of shells in her lustrous gold hair.

  “Eventually,” said Varena, with a toss of that hair. Compliments had made Varena rather vain about her hair. But if she caught a cold it would be an annoyance, not a death sentence, as it might be for a slave in the steppes, and Kalie wanted her to enjoy tonight.

  Varena looked up at the evergreen tree. “Mother, I wanted to tell you before the festivities started. There is a boy here in town…” She trailed off, uncertain.

  Kalie smiled. “There always is. In your case, many boys who have noticed you. So who is this boy who convinced you to notice him?”

  “Taran. His family fishes the river in the warm seasons. We’ve been gathering a lot of firewood together.”

  Kalie stifled a laugh at th
e sudden image of an entire forest stripped bare. “And has he asked you to meet him alone tonight after the dancing?”

  “He asked, but…I said no. I said I would dance the first dance with him, and that seemed to make him happy. It’s just that…I’m not ready yet.”

  Kalie put her hands on Varena’s shoulders and looked into the younger woman’s eyes. “And that is a good thing. What troubles you? Did he try to pressure you? Did someone say something mean?”

  “Oh, no, nothing like that. But I like him, and I think I want him to be my first…” Varena blushed. “Isn’t it amazing to be speaking like this? Choosing who I will give my virginity to? And then calling him my first? Not husband, or master, or the only man I will ever lie with?”

  “I thought about such words every day I lived with the tribe of Aahk,” said Kalie.

  Varena shivered. “I don’t know how you survived it, knowing that life could be like this, and having it all taken from you. It was easier for the rest of us. We never knew such a life was possible!”

  Kalie thought of the things Varena had witnessed—and experienced. “Are you afraid you’ll never be ready?”

  “What? No, of course not! It’s just that I’ve decided I want my first time to be at the summer festival. Where we can be out in the forest, under the moonlight, when it’s warm.”

  Kalie laughed. “That sounds wonderful! And very much like my first time.” It would also be the anniversary of Varena’s womanhood ceremony, when Kalie had risked death to show the women of Aahk how to find and celebrate their own power. She hugged Varena, whispering a prayer she would enjoy that time of transition as much as Kalie had.