“Reulan!” the priest said, extending his hand in greeting. “What brings you to Faroaks?” His eyes fell on the cat, who sat at Reulan’s side, breathing a bit heavily from the long walk. “God of Light, Reulan! Where in the world did you find that cat? It’s absolutely huge!”
Reulan glanced at Khar and started. If possible, Khar had grown even more during the walk from Sweetwater. “He adopted me,” he explained lamely, feeling as if he had blundered into some story. And Dhadi only knew the half of it. Reulan smiled what he hoped was his most disarming smile. “I’m on my way to Sunhame for the Summer Solstice and if I could spend the night with you, I’d be most appreciative.”
“Of course,” Dhadi said. “‘Come in, Reulan. The sun’s nearly set and I must light the Night Candle.” He looked slightly askance at Khar. “Does he follow you even to services?”
“He’s one of the god’s creatures,” Reulan responded. “If you don’t mind, he’ll come with me.”
For a moment, Reulan thought Dhadi would refuse, but his fellow priest merely shook his head and gestured inside. ‘Stranger things have happened,” he murmured. “You and your cat are welcome, Reulan. The god’s blessing be on both of you.”
After assisting Dhadi in celebrating the rising sun and sharing a wholesome breakfast with his fellow priest, Reulan set out on the road again. He had not even reached the fields when he noticed several villagers following after. With the breeze at his back, he overheard snatches of conversation, not a bit of which was devoted to him. No, it was Khar they spoke about. Finally, curiosity triumphed and one of the men trotted up to Reulan’s side.
“Begging your pardon, Sun’s-ray,” he said, dipping his head in an abbreviated bow. “Me and my friends, well, we’ve never seen such a cat as the one you’ve got. He’s near big as my dog.”
Reulan shrugged uncomfortably. “You think he’s big? You should see the mice in Sweetwater!”
The farmer simply stared, oblivious to Reulan’s attempted humor. “Maybe so, Sun’s-ray, but he’s one blessed big cat.” He dipped his head again. “Sunlord guard you on your journey.”
“And bless you and your endeavors,” Reulan replied automatically, sketching the Holy Disk symbol to include them all.
He turned away and set out on the road again, Khar trotting along at his side. Once he was out of hearing range, he glanced down at the cat. “You’ve grown again,” he accused, shifting his pack on his shoulders to a more comfortable position. “And don’t try to deny it.”
:Perhaps, Khar replied. But maybe you’re only seeing better.:
Reulan made a face. “Inscrutable as always, sir cat. I must admit you’re beginning to make me nervous.”
If a cat could snort derisively, Khar did just that. :Spoken by a man who for days now has been conversing with a “dumb” animal.:
A faint blush heated Reulan’s cheeks. “Maybe so, Khar, but something’s going on here that I don’t understand. Why did you ‘adopt’ me? And, for the love of the Lord of Light, how is it that you talk?”
Khar flicked his tail in high good humor. :You’ve been initiated into mysteries, Priest Reulan. And aside from your initial shock, you’ve adapted very well. Who better to ask for fish?:
Three days into his journey, Reulan found the road becoming more crowded. No longer did he simply meet farmers going out to their fields, or the occasional horse-drawn cart filled with vegetables headed off to market somewhere. Now he shared the road with well-dressed folk who rode horseback, or those who walked in groups, all seemingly headed to Sunhame for the Summer Solstice. As the riders passed, bowing in their saddles to a Sun-priest, he had to endure their comments about the size and beauty of the cat at his side. A few even made offers of purchase, proposing sums that made Reulan’s head spin.
As for Khar, despite his dissembling, he had continued to grow. The farmers outside Faroaks should see him now, Reulan thought. Though he had become somewhat accustomed (if that word fairly described his state of mind) to Khar’s company and to sharing conversations with what everyone else deemed a speechless animal, he felt he somehow skirted the edge of mystery.
That evening, stopping in a large village, he once again sought out the local Sun-priest, arriving just in time for the lighting of the Night Candle. He knew the priest here very well; his former master Beckor had apprenticed Jaskhi at one time, before Ruelan’s entry into the priesthood. Reulan and Jaskhi had become close friends after Beckor had died, the young priest turning to the older man for wisdom and support.
“So, Reulan,” Jaskhi said, dinner over and the two of them sitting for a moment in the well-lit room behind Jaskhi’s chapel. Khar had curled up at Reulan’s feet, purring like approaching thunder. “You’re making your pilgrimage, eh? Better early than late, I say. You’ve timed your journey well, my friend. You should arrive in Sunhame the morning of the Summer Solstice. All the inns will be full, but you can always find a place to sleep at the Temple.”
“Unless it’s too full of quarreling priests,” Reulan murmured.
“Ah, that!” Jaskhi waved a dismissive hand. “‘When Vkandis wills, they’ll find their choice obvious. And what better day for that to happen than Summer Solstice? I envy you, Reulan. To be present at such an event is something no one would ever forget.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Now, tell me about your cat.”
Reulan sighed. If one more person asked him about Khar, he thought he would choke. By this time, however, he had come up with a story of how Khar had “adopted” him he could recite without even thinking about it.
“There’s still something strange about that cat,” Jaskhi said, unconvinced, “and I think you know more than you’re letting on.”
“What do you mean?”
“Aside from his size, which is enough in itself to set anyone back, there’s a touch of mystery about him, as if he’s a gateway into somewhere we can’t go.”
Reulan stared. “What are you talking about?”
“I really don’t know,” Jaskhi admitted. “But, I’ll tell you right now . . . this is no ordinary, if simply oversized, cat. Cats don’t grow this big, and I’ve never heard of one walking beside a human all the way to Sunhame.” He held up a hand. “No, don’t say anything. I’m sure I’m not the first to comment on your cat. Just remember this, Reulan . . . there are more things in this world than even we Sun-priests can see. And I think you’ve walked straight into one of them.”
When Reulan set out on the last day of his journey, he was only hours away from Sunhame. By now the road had grown congested with people from all walks of life. As had become the case yesterday, Reulan was surrounded by a crowd of people who, for all their deference to a Sun-priest, couldn’t refrain from making comments about Khar. Reulan set his face in a proper priestly expression, refusing to acknowledge the remarks supposedly made out of his hearing. Khar, of course, remained oblivious to the commotion he caused.
The outskirts of Sunhame came into view around a bend in the road, a road that was now broad and paved with large flat cobbles. As had been the case when Reulan had seen it first, the capital of Karse seemed overwhelming. Born and raised in the country, Reulan had found it hard to believe so many people could live in one place. The six months he had spent in his final studies before being elevated to the priesthood had not lessened that feeling. Today was no different. The buildings were huge. The press of people amazing. The noise, the confusion, the smells . . .
And now, people were pointing in his direction. The crowds created so much noise that Reulan could not hear what was being said. From the expressions on people’s faces, some great lord and his escort had been caught up by the press of people behind him. But when he looked over his shoulder, all he saw was a sea of faces, and each one of them seemed to be staring at him.
Or, he admitted uncomfortably, at the cat.
He glanced down at Khar, who walked very close to him now to avoid being stepped on by the unwary person or horse. The cat’s appearance was slightly different . . . h
is tail, face and legs appeared a darker shade of cream. But that plume of a tail was held straight up and there was a spring to Khar’s step that Reulan had not seen before. Fish. It had to be fish. Close as Sunhame lay to a broad, slow moving river, and to both Ruby Lake and its smaller companion, Lake Mist, fish would be readily at hand.
The buildings loomed taller now, over three, sometimes four, stories. The closer one drew to the center of Sunhame, the more impressive the architecture. The capital was laid out in the shape of a wheel, or a Sun Disk, with the Temple holding the center and twelve main roads leading out from that center. Reulan glanced up and saw faces looking down from many of those windows. The noise of the crowd grew even louder and people leaned out from those windows, pointing downward. Vkandis Sunlord! What was going on? Once more, he glanced over his shoulder, certain he would find a procession or something of the sort that could be causing all the commotion. Again, he saw nothing but wide-eyed faces staring at him and the cat that walked at his side.
There are more things in this world than even we Sun-priests can see, his friend Jaskhi had said. And I think you’ve walked straight into one of them.
Reulan quickened his pace. The sun was near its zenith and he wanted to be standing with the rest of the people at the Temple when the Solstice occurred. He knew from past experience he was too late to attend the service inside the Temple. And with no Son of the Sun to lead the ceremonies, the great sanctuary would be packed by senior priests and those who had staked their claims on the best spots to see and be seen.
He heard someone cry out, but couldn’t distinguish the words. Nervous now, he kept his eyes straight forward and concentrated on ignoring the growing noise of the crowd. Though he walked down a clogged street, no one bumped into him or, for that matter, even came close. He and Khar walked in a small circle of emptiness and that fact alone made Reulan more jittery than ever.
Vkandis Sunlord, he prayed. Protect me! He didn’t include Khar in that prayer, quite certain the cat could more than take care of himself.
More shouting broke out, but Reulan couldn’t see far enough ahead to tell what was happening. But when the road rose upward toward the Temple at the highest point in the city, he began to see what was going on. A crowd of Black-robes, Red-robes and White-robes plowed through the crowd, swimming upstream as it were against the tide of travelers headed toward the Temple. Reulan swallowed heavily. Something was happening here . . . something of great importance. And he didn’t have a clue as to what it was.
I’m a simple country priest, I’m no one important, he pleaded inwardly. Don’t look at me as if I were.
One of the Black-robes, a senior fellow if his gorgeous robes and gold accouterments meant anything, turned and all but sprinted toward the Temple, his fellow priests falling back to let him through. The noise of the crowd intensified, blending into an excited roar. Reulan could see the Temple now. White marble caught and held the sunlight and shone like a flame at nighttime. The many steps leading up to the sanctuary gleamed in the sunlight and the gold on the cornices seemed blindingly bright.
He approached the steps, more determined than ever to ignore the uproar. The crowd had drawn back from the main entrance to the Temple, leaving the plaza around it shockingly empty. Reulan stopped, unsure what to do next. Then something bumped into his leg above the knee, the familiar head-butt of his cat. But above knee height?
Reulan looked down and his heart gave an absurd little leap in his chest. Knees trembling, feeling faint, he stared at his feline companion.
In place of the cat who had journeyed with him from Sweetwater stood a creature straight out of legend, one every child had heard about in tale after tale. The cream-colored body was still there, but no tabby markings marred its hue. Now a brick-red mask, legs, and tail graced the cream. And the eyes. O Vkandis Sunlord! The eyes were blue, the blue of a cloudless sky, a blue so deep he felt he could have fallen into their depths and kept falling forever.
A Firecat!
“Khar?” he breathed, knowing the cat would hear. “O Lord of Light . . . Khar, is that you?”
:Steady, Reulan,: Khar said, rubbing his cheek against Reulan’s legs. :Take a few deep breaths, and everything will be fine.:
The noise of the crowd shut off as if someone had taken a knife to it, separating one moment of clamor from the next instant of total silence. Reulan stood rooted in place, lifting his eyes to the steps leading up to the sanctuary. A procession had formed at the top of those steps that consisted of the seniormost priests of the land, who were now slowly headed down toward where Reulan stood. Though every muscle in his body quivered, screaming at him to turn and run, he could not move. His mouth grew dry and he feared he would choke on the avalanche of emotions that gripped his heart.
The procession stopped a few steps from where he stood, the expressions on the faces of the priests one of uniform awe. It had become so quiet now, he could hear Khar’s rumbling purr.
As one, every priest facing him bowed low.
Two of them approached: one removed Reulan’s pack and the other fastened a cloak about his shoulders, a cloak heavily encrusted with gold and Sun gems. Reulan could hardly breathe at this point, his mind whirling out of control and his heart beating so loud he was sure the entire plaza could hear it.
Then from the center of the procession stepped the seniormost priest of all who had gathered here, a man his master Beckor had acknowledged as one of the purest souls in the capital. An old man, white hair gleaming in the sunlight and eyes wide with awe, the priest bore in his hands the great golden crown of the Son of the Sun.
Reulan briefly closed his eyes. This couldn’t be happening! It was utterly impossible! He had never had any desire to do more than minister to his people and—
“Vkandis has chosen!” the old man called out, his voice surprisingly clear and more than loud enough to be heard by those who had gathered in the plaza. He lifted the crown and set it on Reulan’s head at the very moment the sun reached its zenith in the sky.
For an instant, Reulan forgot to breathe.
And then the glory descended.
Light, golden light, light that filled him like water poured into an empty vessel. Light that lifted him out of himself into a place where no darkness could ever come. He was enfolded by light, consumed by light, cradled by light. He was the fiery wick on a brilliant candle the size of the universe. He cried out voicelessly in the presence of that light, protesting that he could not be worthy.
And the light responded, not in words but in something far beyond words. Comfort came with those “words,” along with a feeling of subtle good humor. Could he question the will of Vkandis? Could he possibly know more than the god? And what if Vkandis required a “simple country priest” to lead his people?
The light, if possible, intensified and coursed through his veins like fire. His heart expanded, accepting the love and wisdom of the god who touched him. He bowed before that Presence, accepting the choice of the god he loved.
And, suddenly, he saw again with the eyes of flesh. The silence in the plaza beat at his ears with the same intensity that the roar of the crowd had possessed not long ago . . . a lifetime ago. He felt Khar’s shoulder snug against his leg, heard the Firecat’s soothing purr. The crown on his head should have weighed enough to bend his neck, but he felt nothing heavier than the touch of a gentle hand.
He stared at the crowd that stood in a circle around him. No one moved or spoke. He turned slowly, looking from person to person. And his heart quivered in his chest at what he saw.
Behind those who faced him stretched their shadows, as if he were a lamp lit in the darkness and they had turned toward his light.
Khar butted his head against Reulan’s leg again. He glanced down at the Firecat, seeing true affection dancing in those very blue eyes.
:Well, Reulan. We’re here at last. Now can I have my fish?:
Winter Death
by Michelle West
Michelle West is the author o
f numerous novels, including the Sacred Hunter duology and the Sun Sword series, which will be concluded with the publication of The Sun Sword in January 2004. She reviews books for the online column First Contacts, and less frequently for The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction. Other short fiction by her has appeared in dozens of anthologies, most recently in The Sorcerer’s Academy, Apprentice Fantastic, Once Upon A Galaxy, Familiars and Vengeance Fantastic.
Kayla was born in the harsh winter of life in the mining town of Riverend. Her father had been born there, and her mother had come from the flats of Valdemar’s most fertile lands. An outsider, she had learned to face the winter with the same respect, and the same dread, that the rest of the villagers showed. She had come to be accepted by the villagers in the same way, slowly and grudgingly at first, but with a healthy respect that in the end outlasted all of their earlier superstitious fear of the different.
Margaret Merton, called Magda for reasons that Kayla never quite understood, was different. She could walk into a room and it would grow warmer; she could smile and her smile would spread like fire; her joy could dim the sharpest and bitterest of winter tempers, when cabin fever ran high. How could they not learn to love her?
Even in her absence, that memory remained, and when her daughter showed some of the same strange life, she was loved for it. More, for the fact that she was born to the village.
The Heralds came through the village of Riverend in the spring, when the snows had receded and the passes, in the steep roads and treacherous flats of the mountains, were opened. Heralds seldom stopped in the village, although they rode through it from time to time.
Valdemar Anthology - [Tales of Valdemar 02] - Sun in Glory and Other Tales of Valdemar Page 4