Taminy

by Bohnhoff, Maya Kaathryn

  Durweard Feich came swiftly to his feet. “A sad tale, dear cailin. We now see how you have suffered at the hands of the Osraed. Their cruelty does not bear further hearing.”

  Taminy turned to him. “But I’ve not finished my Tell.”

  “Let her speak,” said Bevol quietly.

  “Yes!” The Ren Catahn stood among the royal guests. “Let her speak. Let us all hear what she has to say.”

  “Really,” interrupted Cyne Colfre, “it’s hardly necessary. We can see she’s innocent.”

  “Can we?” shouted Minister Cadder. “Let her speak!”

  It became a chant. A chant Eadmund found even on his own lips. “Let her speak! Let her speak!”

  Durweard Feich pounded his staff for order, but order could not be had. Friend and foe alike roared for Taminy to continue. Feich gave up and sat down to glare balefully at his Cyne. The moment he sat, the crowd quieted.

  In the relative silence, Cwen Toireasa, who had been only a bystander, looked from her mute husband to his grim Durweard and shook her head. She gestured at Taminy. “Go on, Taminy. You said it was thought you drowned. Since that was obviously a lie, let us now hear the truth.”

  Taminy looked out at the Assemblage—the curious and the eager and the fearful and the hateful and said, “I am Taminy-a-Cuinn, daughter of Osraed Coluim-a-Cuinn, Cirkemaster of Nairne during the reign of Cyne Thearl. It was said of me that I drowned a hundred years past. I drowned only in the Meri’s glory. I entered the Sea of Light only to become one with it. I, Taminy-a-Cuinn, became and was these hundred years, the Vessel of the Emerald Meri. I have returned as Taminy-Osmaer—Divinely Glorious. That is my new name. That is my Station.”

  The room erupted. Not a body remained seated; not a soul remained calm. Taminy-Osmaer brought a roar from the throat of the Hall that had never before been heard. The Assembly of Caraid-land was reduced to a boiling rabble.

  Amid that turbulent sea, the Ren Catahn made his way from the southwest corner of the Hall to where his daughter and Taminy stood. His face was dark with anger and fear. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

  It was Osraed Bevol who quieted them. He came to the speaker’s dais and, climbing upon it, waved the crowd to silence.

  There was more than mere will in his gestures, Eadmund knew. He felt the fabric of the Runeweave, soft and silken. It sounded of pines playing the passing wind and smelled of summer meadows. The crowd let itself be lulled.

  Then Bevol held up his hands and cried, “Have you nothing to say? Are you wordless, able to utter only animal sounds? Perhaps you are all bewicked, your mouths woven shut by this hideous creature?” He gestured at Taminy, who still stood in her box, her expression unchanged.

  Osraed Ladhar rose ponderously to his feet and grasped the rail before him. “I will speak. Do you endorse this cailin and her claims, Osraed Bevol?”

  “I do.”

  A murmur traversed the galleries.

  “Then you are misled, Brother, for she makes a heretic of you.”

  There was some assent to that, but it had gained little momentum before Catahn Hillwild halted it. He took several long strides away from Taminy’s box into the middle of the floor.

  “The Hillwild,” he said, “stand behind the Lady of the Crystal Rose, ready to serve her. We, too, endorse her and her claims.”

  Eadmund’s entrails clutched painfully as a sweep of vertigo passed over him. The Crystal Rose! That was her emblem emblazoned in this early morning’s sky. And hadn’t he known it?

  He vaguely heard the Osraed Lealbhallain and Fhada endorse Taminy, saw the two of them pale and sweating, step away from the press of bodies in the guest gallery. He felt his own body move, felt it rise to unsteady feet. What should he do?

  “I don’t understand her claims,” protested the Eiric Selbyr, and from the Minister’s northern gallery, the Cleirach Cadder cried, “What need to understand them? They are pure, lying evil!”

  Arguing broke out then, as Eadmund tottered among his peers. Sides and exception were taken in loud voices and words eloquent and ineloquent. Dizzied by the swirl of dissension, Eadmund made his way to the rail of the western gallery.

  “Please!” he choked, then cleared his throat. “Please!” Eyes turned to him, snarls died to growls. “Why must we do battle over this girl? The Covenant of the Meri is clear; we will not be left unguided in the face of evil. That same Covenant is equally clear on the nature of evil: Evil cannot undertake the causes of good.”

  “Do you say,” asked Ladhar from beside him, “that she is good?”

  “I say,” said Eadmund, and was sure he must melt under Ladhar’s gaze, “that she has Woven miracles in the presence of many, myself included. If these miracles produce good results, then their source must, itself, be good. If they produce ultimately evil results, then, and only then, can we condemn their source as evil. Have her miracles produced good results or ill?”

  There was some shoving in the public gallery and a woman’s voice cried, “Good! She is good!” A chorus of other voices joined in.

  Ladhar roared. “Her miracles have brought disunity and uncertainty to the members of this Assembly, to the members of the Osraed Body, to this entire country. That is pure evil!”

  “But are those the ends?” argued Eadmund. “Are those the ultimate results of her work? Can we say, now, that she will not cause us to consider our own works and strive harder to perfect them? If she is of God, she must prevail, and in fighting her, we wrong her and we wrong God. If she is not of God, she will soon destroy herself, for evil does, ultimately, destroy itself.”

  He made the mistake of glancing into the Abbod’s face and his words failed him. “Please ... can’t we just leave her alone and-and wait to see what happens?”

  From the floor, Bevol leveled a finger at him. “Feeble! Lukewarm! You vacillate, brother! You hide behind your fears!”

  Yes, I do! cried Eadmund’s silent spirit. I do hide!

  Bevol continued to rebuke him. “Such half-hearted rejection is unworthy of the Meri’s Chosen. Look at her, man!” He smote his fist on the balustrade of the speaker’s box with a loud crack that caused the entire chamber to jump. “Study her. Interrogate her. Test her, if you will. But by the God of the Meri, decide about her!” He came down from the dais and strode the floor, reproving each of the four Assembly galleries. “Dismantle everything she has said and done,” he told them. “Sift through it. Tear it apart and put it back together again. Then, Pillars of the Hall—THEN—either reject her,” —he swung to point an out-thrust finger at Taminy— “or accept her.”

  “Study her? Test her?” Caime Cadder launched himself out of the Ministers’ gallery and onto the floor, advancing toward Bevol and Taminy. “Ludicrous! A waste of our time! Pillars of the Hall, listen to me—Bevol distracts you with rhetoric.” He came face to face with Bevol before Taminy’s box. “Distracts you from the one pertinent detail in which this girl is lacking.” He turned to point a trembling finger into Taminy’s face. “This girl bears no Kiss! The Meri has never touched her!”

  The observation caused the room to erupt again, and Cadder used the frenzy to bring himself closer to Taminy. Before Bevol could interfere, the Cleirach grasped her arm and attempted to drag her from the box. “Look at her face! Look at it! There is no mark there! There is no Kiss! She lies! She lies!”

  In the roar and rage of the crowd, Cadder’s snarls were lost. He shook Taminy harder, setting off a frenzy of movement among her nearby supporters. But frenzy exploded into chaos when, from the girl’s forehead, issued a flash of light—pale, emerald and too bright to look upon. Cadder shrieked and stumbled backward to the floor, rubbing his eyes frantically. The crowd cared little for him. Their eyes were on Taminy, who stood on her dais, the stellate mark on her brow shedding its Eibhilin gleam over all.

  The chaos collapsed into a tingling, awful hush. No voice spoke; no body moved to creak a bench, scuff a heel, rustle a cloak. All watched as the light pulsed and dimmed but did
not vanish. No newly chosen Osraed had ever had a Kiss so bright.

  Eadmund looked at it with longing.

  Bevol spoke. “It seems that Minister Cadder is wrong. There is no detail in which Taminy is lacking, no sign she cannot show you.”

  “Lies!” Cadder lifted himself from the floor, blinking tears from his light-scalded eyes. “I will not believe her to be divine!”

  Bevol shook his head, then addressed the assemblage. “What sign would you like to see next, before deciding about Taminy-Osmaer? She could perform any task if it would make you believe her Tell. But what good does it do? One test after another she passes; one sign after another she shows, and still you balk. Show us this, show us that! And when you are shown, you cavil and ask to be shown something more. These shows of miracles are useless. If they are proof, they are proof only to those whose lives they touch. Do not test Taminy-Osmaer with miracles and shows of power. Do not question her ability to show you greater and greater marvels. Test her spirit. Question her purpose. That, venerable Pillars, is your test.” He gave the Cyne curt bow and left the Hall through the western doors.

  Colfre came shakily to his feet. “Well,” he said. “Well ...We have seen ... great wonders. But-but Osraed Bevol is correct. You,” he raised his eyes to the galleries, “must compose your questions. Whatever questions you deem fitting to ask ... this young woman.” He turned to his Durweard then. “Daimhin, kindly dismiss the Assembly.” He afforded Taminy one bemused glance before retiring from the throne.

  oOo

  “I thought you said she understood.” Colfre did not wait for his Durweard to close the door to the salon.

  “She said she understood.” Feich’s demeanor was cool and collected which thoroughly irritated his Cyne. “I believe she did understand.”

  “And merely forgot?”

  Feich shook his head. “My lord, you saw what happened. She was silent until Bevol encouraged her. And she didn’t ... display that ... sign until Cadder pressed her.”

  “Pressed her! The man attacked her! In my presence! Fanatical idiot.” The Cyne paused to chew his lip. “It could work out for the best, though. Ealad-hach made the Osraed look ludicrous and Bevol, with his insulting sermonizing, simply added to that impression.”

  “Sire, I think you overlook an important point. We were not in control of that situation.” He gestured in the general direction of the Assembly Hall.

  The Cyne gazed at him, slow light dawning. “Bevol.”

  “Yes, Bevol. He played the Hall—and the crowd—like an expert hawker.”

  “But why? Is it personal power he seeks, or is he convinced he’s doing the Meri’s will?”

  “Knowing his history, I should say the latter. Does it matter?”

  Colfre clicked his tongue. “Now, Daimhin, you surprise me. Of course it matters. If Bevol is seeking personal gain, he can be bought or flattered into collusion with us. It’s clear he has little personal regard for his institution. If he’s doing the will of the Meri—or believes he is—he will not be dissuaded.”

  “Nor, my lord, will the girl be dissuaded from doing his will.”

  “You believe he controls her to that degree?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? We will not be able to control her as long as he does. I tell you, I had convinced her not to speak.”

  Colfre nodded. Osraed Bevol was, indeed, becoming a monumental nuisance. “What are we to do, then? Bevol is not likely to just go away and leave her to her own devices ... or, should I say, to ours.”

  Daimhin twitched like a man who has just dreamed himself falling. “No. No, I suppose not.”

  They were interrupted then, by a courier who told them that the Hall was ready to reconvene. Colfre tried to ready himself for what that session might bring, but there was no way he could have been ready for the complete change in the demeanor of the Hall’s members. Except for some indeterminate grumbling, they behaved most civilly toward Taminy as they asked her a battery of questions which bored their Cyne almost to tears.

  What was the substance of the Meri? The answer: A twin spirit and a body of Eibhilin Light. Was she spiritual or material? She was spiritual, her vessel was material. Together, they existed in a state that was both and neither.

  Why did She communicate through these so-called vessels? Men could not withstand the glory of Her Presence; Her beauty was too great to be borne. One soul in a generation could contain her, a female soul. That could change, Taminy added.

  Why was she here? To remind the Osraed of their purpose and to establish a female order of Osraed; to purify the Osraed institution.

  Why was that necessary? (Here, Colfre sat up and took note.)

  Decay, she said. The Osraed had become distracted. It was time for cleansing, time for reawakening, time for a Cusp and a New Covenant.

  A New Covenant. Colfre liked the sound of that. He tried the words against his own impending proposal and liked it even more. His mind began to turn over the possibilities and the last few pieces of an idea fell into place.

  He smiled. A New Covenant. He liked the sound of that very much.

  oOo

  In the jostle of people funneling from the Hall’s public gallery, Aine somehow got separated from the others. Stretching and turning in the press of bodies, she struggled to see them, but found that sense inadequate to the task.

  She was being pushed along on a slow current toward a door to the outer ward when someone stumbled against her. The touch sent a shimmer of awareness through her—a thrill of familiarity. She turned, expecting to see a friend and found herself gazing, instead, into the startled eyes of a stranger. The young woman stammered an apology and, hugging the child she carried to her shoulder, moved away into the crowd.

  In due time, Aine was deposited in the outer ward and glanced around, seeking her companions. She found them, at last, standing in a tense knot beside a vintner’s shop, and made her way over, dodging other members of the audience too deep in their discussions to care where they stepped.

  “Aine!” Iseabal saw her and held out eager hands. “We feared we’d lost you completely.”

  Aine took the other girl’s hands gratefully. “You’ll never be half so lucky as that.”

  “I’ve never seen such a crowd,” said Mam Lusach, checking Aine over as if a piece of her might be missing. “It was like being caught up in a river current.”

  “Or a herd of sheep,” Aine observed, then added, “Someone touched me.”

  Phelan laughed. “Well, I should think, in all that-”

  “No, I mean, I felt someone touch me. Oh, stop laughing—you don’t understand!” She looked to Osraed Saxan for some serious attention and got it. “It was so queer, Osraed. All these people were pressed in about me and I felt this ... this Touch. As if one of you was there beside me. I thought it was one of you, but when I-”

  She stopped. There it was again, like the shivers she got from climbing out of cold water into the warm sun. It raised goose-flesh all over her.

  She turned and saw the same woman standing across the shop-lined aisle and holding the hand of the little boy she’d been carrying earlier. She was clearly startled to have a group of strangers suddenly staring at her and began a shuffling retreat. She’d taken no more than two steps, though, when the child began to resist. She paused to listen to his chatter, shook her head, glanced at Aine, then, with a look of fearful resolve, allowed the little boy to lead her to where the others stood watching.

  The child spoke first. “Are you friends of the Lady Taminy?”

  Aine was too startled to reply.

  The Osraed Saxan was not. “Yes, we are. We’re from Nairne and we’ve come here to be close to her.”

  The boy craned his neck to look up at his mother. “You see, Mama, we weren’t being silly, after all. They’re friends, too.”

  “You know Taminy?” asked Iseabal.

  The woman nodded, smiling diffidently. “She healed my boy, Losgann. And she ... she gave me this.” The woman opened her left
hand, exposing the palm. Drawn there, as if in faintly glowing ink, was a star-shaped rune.

  Aine gasped and heard the sound ripple through the group around her. She displayed her own palm, as did Iseabal and Wyvis, Rennie and Phelan, Orna and even Mam Lusach.

  “My dear God,” murmured Osraed Saxan and stared into his own palm. “I didn’t ... I didn’t realize ...” He looked at their new acquaintance. “Mistress, we’ve heard rumor that Taminy has been working miracles in Creiddylad all the week. Is that so?”

  “Oh, aye.” The woman nodded, her little boy echoing the movement.

  “Then there must be ...Are there others ... like us?” He indicated the star-decked palms outstretched between them.

  “Oh, aye,” was the answer. “As many as her miracles, I reckon. Would you like to meet them?”

  Saxan smiled. “Mistress, there is nothing we’d like better.”

  oOo

  Daimhin Feich let himself into the Privy Council’s chambers and paused by the door, looking perplexed. “Gentlemen, I’m surprised to find you here. Can you be finished with your deliberations so soon?”

  The two men there shifted guiltily before Minister Cadder said, “No, Durweard, but nearly so. We are here because the deliberations have taken an unhappy turn.” There was no hint of respect in the man’s voice.

  Feich ignored that and, smiling, spread his elegant hands. “Then wouldn’t your peers benefit from your opinions?”

  “Our peers are asses,” replied Cadder and drew a censuring shush! from his companion, Feanag.

  “And what has caused this sorry metamorphosis?”

  “Need you ask, sir? It’s that damned girl. She seduces them, as she has seduced your lord ... and yourself, it would seem.”

  Now, Feanag’s thin lips disappeared completely and Feich laughed. “Oh, she is a mighty seductress, that one, I agree. The beauty of her face, the calm, sweet, reasonable music of her voice. And you’re right—Colfre is quite smitten.”

  Cadder narrowed his eyes, studying the Cyne’s Durweard as he might an oozing sore. “And you are not?” No belief there, only ridicule.