Journey of Awakening

by Shawna Thomas

  Several of the women giggled. Chavi’s gaze restored silence to the tent. “No. In our tribe, the tents belong to the women, not their husbands, and are passed from mother to daughter. If I have no daughter, I could pass it to another woman’s child of my choosing.”

  “What happens when the children grow?”

  “When Danladi is of age, he will move into the tent for unmarried men until the time comes when he finds a woman who will invite him into her tent. Later, he will have his own tent as Akier.”

  Sara chewed on a piece of fruit, thoughtful. “Do all women have their own tent?”

  “No, there is a tent for unmarried women as well.” She paused. “Once she takes a husband, the oldest daughter inherits or is gifted a tent from her mother.” Chavi shrugged. “It is good to have a choice.”

  “Then those women, the second-or third-born daughters, stay single?”

  “Some, but not all, usually they become second or third wives as well and live in the first wife’s tent.” Chavi’s eyes sparkled.

  The women exchanged some kind of unspoken communication. Chavi reached for a loaf of bread and broke off a piece, offering it to Sara.

  First and second wife. She took the offered bread then glanced to the other women in the tent. Were these also Tobar’s wives? There was no polite way to ask. “Danladi asked about the fire, what is it?”

  Chavi wrapped the uneaten bread. “On the eve of the cold, when the moon is silent, we build a sacred fire, tell stories, drink and sing. We would be honored if you could attend.”

  Sara smiled. “Thank you, I’d love to.” She chewed the nutty bread, so different from Nolwen’s dark brown loaves. So far on the mainland, she’d only encountered farmers, waveriders and a healer, people not so different from her or her grandfather. The Heleini were a mystery, and Sara longed to understand them. But how many more questions could she ask before she verged into rudeness? She had a feeling it was not wise to insult the nomadic people. But so far, Chavi seemed amicable to her questioning. She’d chance one more. “Why is it a sacred fire?”

  “We start it with an ember from the Akier’s tent. The Akier’s fire is always kept burning. When we travel, the fire keeper guards the embers and when we set up camp in a new location, he lights the center fire with them. All others are lit from the first fire. In our legends, the Akier’s embers were carried from the Far South, to feed the first fire Sabo-Wen started when we reached these lands. For the sacred fire on the eve of the cold, at the appointed time, an Akier’s wife must bring coal embers for the Akier to blow to life and start the fire. It represents the life that he brings our people. It is a time of...rebirth.”

  “Then you’ll be needed as well. If you like, I can stay with Danladi.”

  Chavi swept her hand to the rest of the women. “Tobar has six wives. I am but the first. The wife of his youth. Patia will take the ember. I will stay with Danladi. You must go and enjoy yourself.”

  “Six wives?” The question left her lips before she could stop it. Chavi had said second or third wife—but six?

  Chavi’s cool brown eyes appraised her. “It’s not your custom for a man to have more than one wife?”

  “No, I mean maybe, I’ve just never seen it before.”

  “I see.” Chavi’s eyebrows drew together. “Your men discard one woman for another then? I’ve heard of this but didn’t believe it.”

  “I um...haven’t had much experience with men but sometimes, yes. Women too.” Her only experience involved books and tales she’d heard but Chavi didn’t need to know that.

  “That seems cruel to me.”

  Sara considered Chavi’s statement. It really did seem cruel, now that she looked at it from a new perspective. “Do all Tobar’s wives sleep here?”

  Chavi smiled. “No. Most of them are firstborn and those who are not dwell in the tents of those who are firstborn as their natures dictate. But we are all of his house.” She plucked at the blue beads. “When he desires our company, he invites us to his tent, but it is not that way for every man. Most women share their tent with at least one other wife.”

  Sara nodded. The beads they wore must signify that they were all Tobar’s wives.

  “Are your people not lonely without other wives for company?”

  “I’ve never been married but I don’t think so. I’ve never thought about it before.”

  Chavi reached for her hand. “If you have a good husband, as I do, it can be wonderful. I will pray to Ashini, the goddess of the hearth and women, to bless you. If the gods will, one day, you’ll see.”

  Sara nodded her thanks but she didn’t think even a Heleini goddess could change her fate.

  * * *

  A cool breeze brushed the hair from her face. Sara scanned the myriad stars flickering in the night sky, so close it almost seemed she could reach out and touch them. The air was heavy with the scent of sage, horse, smoke and residual heat from the desert soil. Save for the occasional chime of laughter, and the neigh of horses drifting on the night’s gentle currents, the camp was quiet.

  Chavi’s tent was set in the second tier of tents from the middle. She had explained that, as the Akier’s wife, she could be in the first tier but preferred the privacy of not being right off the open compound. Sara negotiated the narrow alleys between tents, enjoying the stillness of the evening.

  She stepped aside as a man neared, leading a horse toward one of the large tents in the center clearing. Sara glimpsed several beautiful horses before the tent flap closed.

  Near the well, a fire, surrounded by stones, lit the faces of a few men nodding their heads together or drinking from hollowed out gourds. No women. Sara hesitated. She didn’t see Tobar, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there. She ran a hand over her braid, wondering if she had time to smooth the plait. You’re being silly. Six wives. He wouldn’t look twice at you. Did she want him to? She shook her head, irritated at herself, and strode toward the fire. As she neared, she spied Zeynel in a group of older men seemingly engrossed in a tale. His gaze found hers and a smile crossed his craggy features.

  A figure separated from the group and made his way toward her. Tobar. She swallowed past a suddenly dry throat.

  “Welcome, Healer.” His voice was deep and rich, like chocolate.

  “Thank you, Akier.” He was even better-looking than she remembered.

  The Akier’s smile seemed genuine. “Please, let there be no formality. You may call me Tobar. I owe you my son’s life and the future of my tribe. Tomorrow, I’ll give you and your companion pick of our horses to take as payment for your skills and a fulfillment of my oath to Tei.” He held up his hand, stilling her protest. “One must take an offer to the god of light and health seriously. It is the least my people could do. Ask of me anything and if it is within my power, I will give it to you.”

  What did one say to an offer like that? “I was only doing what anyone would have.”

  “That is open to debate but I will not argue. Not tonight.” He smiled and her heart beat faster. Tobar turned toward Zeynel and then back to Sara. “Healer, there is no other settlement, no town within a moon’s journey from here. Though the sun still reigns, Tei enters his time of rest. Cold will come. You can feel it in the air and all the signs point to a long winter. I ask you to stay here, as our guests. When the sun gains strength, we will journey north. You may travel with us. It’s safer. Less friendly people than the Heleini roam the Faisach. I would be honored to take you into my tent.”

  Sara’s heart skipped a beat.

  “As my guest,” Tobar added, his eyes twinkling. “It would be an honor to boast a healer among my wives, but we claim our wealth by our horses, not spouses or concubines. I ask you to be my guest only.”

  She shrugged off the sudden feeling of disappointment. He’s only asking if you want to winter with the Heleini. Had she wanted
the Akier to beg her to be his wife or concubine? Of course not. The idea was ridiculous. She was acting like a child, giddy over the first man who flirted with her.

  Glancing over the Akier’s shoulder, Sara locked eyes with Zeynel. A soothing hum echoed in her mind. Tobar waited. He couldn’t hear it. She’d often wondered if anyone else would be able to hear the gentle vibrations that issued from her mentor. “You honor us with such a generous offer, but I must first speak with my companion.”

  Tobar bowed. “Of course. Now, please, come join us.”

  Sara examined at the group of men, curiosity etched on each face except Zeynel’s. He seemed amused. “Thank you. I will.”

  Tobar led Sara to a place at his side. Several men rose and moved closer to her. One of them handed her a gourd full of liquid. She lifted it toward her mouth, but Tobar reached over and laid a hand on her arm. Her skin tingled under the pressure of his fingers.

  “Ah, not yet.” He took the gourd out of Sara’s hand, lifted a glowing metal rod from the flames and dipped it into the liquid. Fragrant steam drifted into the night air. “Now, drink.”

  Sara retrieved the gourd from Tobar, careful to avoid touching his fingers, then took a tentative sip. It was warm and strong but sweet with the distinct flavor of cloves and cinnamon.

  “It is miri, fermented honey and the juice of a fruit grown near here. Do you like?” There was a smile in Tobar’s voice.

  Sara nodded, already feeling the effects of the strong drink. She’d take small sips.

  An old man shuffled toward them and bowed. His robes rippled around his sandals until he rose. His dark eyes gleamed in the firelight.

  “This is Durriken, he is keeper of our history. He has wanted to speak to you.” Tobar gestured for the old man to sit. Sara recognized him as one of the men Zeynel had been talking to earlier. A toothless grin rearranged Durriken’s face, almost hiding his dark eyes in folds of skin.

  “Your companion has told us you’d be interested in hearing the history of the people.” Durriken’s voice held more strength than his withered frame suggested.

  Sara raised one eyebrow in Zeynel’s direction. He raised his gourd and smiled. “I have always loved history,” Sara said. A dull ache reminded her of her loss. She and her grandfather had read every book on Anatar’s history Jith could find until the bindings loosened. Most had been of more recent northern histories of conquering kings. None of them had included the Heleini.

  Durriken patted her knee. “A smart girl. You cannot face the future unless you have understood the past.” He nodded then peered at her through folds of skin. “Tomorrow, I will show you a sacred possession of the Heleini that has been passed down from hand to hand from the time of Sabo-Wen.”

  “I’d be honored.” Sara sipped her drink. Warmth moved from her chest down her limbs; she felt slightly dizzy.

  “Good, good.” Durriken nodded again, his head drooping lower with each movement. After a while, Sara heard a muffled snore.

  “It is past the time he usually slumbers.” Tobar’s rich voice tickled the hairs along her neck, sending chills through her body. “He wanted to speak to a healer. There hasn’t been one among the Heleini for more seasons than I can count. You will honor him by listening to his stories.”

  Sara met Tobar’s intense gaze. “I am honored by the telling of them.”

  A small smile touched Tobar’s mouth but his gaze never left hers.

  The Akier’s eyes seemed to hold a great deal of mirth, as well the promise of something she didn’t think it wise to explore. He vibrated with life; she supposed it only natural she’d be drawn to him. She’d experienced so little. Tobar made Haboth’s flirting appear amateurish at best. She was out of her depth. But what a way to drown. “Are there no traveling healers willing to brave the Faisach?” Sara asked, setting the drink down and breaking the eye contact. Tobar was having enough of an effect on her. She didn’t need the alcohol.

  Tobar shook his head. “No.”

  “Because of the terrain?”

  He sipped his drink. “Do you think our land desolate?”

  Sara hesitated.

  Tobar laughed. “Do not be afraid to offend.” He gazed at the horizon. “I suppose it may appear so to a stranger.” He turned to Sara. “Two sunrises from now, I ride to our salt pans to visit my men there and collect salt before the winter makes traveling difficult. It is one day there and one back so I will return in time for the Fire. I would like you to join me. Perhaps I can change your mind about the Faisach.”

  Sara glanced toward Zeynel. No answering hum, nothing. She heard herself say, “Yes, I’d like that, thank you.”

  When will you learn? She had a feeling she’d just jumped into the depths.

  One by one, the men rose and bid their good nights to Tobar. Finally, he stood. “I too must retire for the night. Morning comes quickly.” He took Sara’s hands in his. “Please, consider my offer to stay with us through the winter.”

  Sara swallowed. His palms were warm, but not soft. The hands of a man who worked hard. She opened her mouth to speak but her voice had betrayed her. She nodded. With a smile, Tobar melted into the night. Sara glanced down to her hands; they burned where Tobar’s skin had touched them. She clasped them as though to hold on to the memory of his touch. What is with you? He’s just a man. Snap out of it.

  “The boy is well?” The familiar smell of thyme overcame her thoughts; she turned with relief to see Zeynel approach.

  “On his way, yes.”

  “Our Akier is a charismatic man.”

  “Yes. He is.” Sara fought a blush. “The Heleini have offered to let us winter with them. They don’t think we can make it across the Faisach and over the mountains before the first snows.”

  Zeynel seemed to be deep in thought, his gaze far away. “What do you say?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know the terrain or—”

  “No, Sara. Where is Teann leading you?”

  She wanted to stay but also to leave with equal intensity. She didn’t want to stay for the wrong reasons. Certainly not because she liked flirting with the very married Akier. Zeynel took a deep breath. “Are we staying the winter with the Heleini?”

  “You’re letting me make the choice?”

  “You are, after all, my master.” Zeynel grinned.

  “About that...” Sara shook her head. “How do I tell if Teann is leading me to stay or go?”

  “You’ll know.”

  She pulled on the chain, drawing Ilydearta into her hand. The stone appeared almost black until the light of the flames licked dark blue from its depths. “But I don’t know.”

  “Sometimes, that is the answer.” He straightened. “When you don’t know which direction to take, it might be it’s best not to take any at all. The Heleini are right about the signs for a hard winter. We will make it across the Faisach but not the mountains before the first snows. It would be wise to accept Tobar’s offer and stay here. This too is the language of Teann.” His gaze was intense. “Sara, you used the stone today as well as any beginner.”

  “Is that a compliment?”

  “Were you looking for one?”

  She grinned. “Do you like it here?”

  Zeynel smiled. “Yes. I’m learning much from the elders. The Heleini have a rich and tragic history.”

  “I’m going to spend some time with Durriken tomorrow. I’m looking forward to hearing it.” She yawned.

  “But now, go rest. You are not accustomed to drink and miri is strong, even for the Heleini.”

  “Only the occasional glass of grandfather’s fruit wine with dinner.” Sara took Zeynel’s hand. “And that seems a lifetime ago. Good night, my friend.”

  * * *

  Moonlight softened the colors of the tents and lent a glow to the earth. Sara wandered slowly bac
k toward Chavi’s hearth. She had to admit that she was attracted to Tobar. Her feelings were obvious—but he had six wives. If she stayed here the winter, she didn’t have the luxury of getting starry-eyed whenever he was around. I told him I’d go to the salt pans with him. She groaned. Still, there were bound to be chaperones and maybe she could convince Zeynel to go with her. And after, she could ask the women about any plants on the Faisach with healing properties. Maybe she could stay busy the entire winter restocking her medicine pouch, repairing their garments and perhaps learning how to weave like the women in Chavi’s tent. Tobar’s wives. She gazed into the sky. It was going to be a long winter.

  She spun around as she registered the soft sound of footfalls behind her.

  “Healer.”

  She’d recognize his smoky voice anywhere.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “You didn’t.” An image of the firelight playing across Tobar’s features and the memory of his touch flickered across Sara’s mind. She swallowed as warmth flooded her belly.

  Tobar detached from the shadows and approached. “Have you spoken to your companion?”

  “Yes.” He was standing too close, his scent bathing her senses. Citrus and spices. She felt dizzy. “We will stay. Thank you.”

  “Good.” He didn’t reach out to touch her, but for a moment, it felt like he had. She stood there as shadows once again claimed him, then hurried to the shelter of Chavi’s tent.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sara examined Danladi’s leg. They’d scar, but the wounds were healing with no sign of infection. She gently covered the gashes with a salve and rewrapped his leg. “You heal quickly.”

  The boy’s eyes lit up as he turned toward his mother. “Mama—”

  “No. That does not mean you can go to the Fire,” Chavi said without looking up from her stitching.

  “You need to rest, Danladi. Even though you may feel better, it’s important to let your body completely recover. You’ve been through an ordeal.” Sara lowered her voice. “What’s your favorite food served at the Fire? I’ll bring you some.”