By Moonrise

by Jackie Dana

  “Nay, we must hurry. I am expected to be there early so I can monitor the event.” As he spoke, he slowed long enough to add, “you’ll also want to be close enough to watch everything, I suspect.” Then he increased his pace once again.

  By the time they arrived at the torrapon, she was out of breath and her calves burned. All she wanted to do was collapse; instead they joined a line of people that was forming up to wind around the stone structure, forming a human spiral.

  As they took their place, she watched as dozens and dozens of people queued up behind them, with the line growing longer by the minute. After the rush to get there, the line now crept along, as each person went individually to their place on the hillside. When they reached their final position on the incline overlooking the torrapon, Rynar noted how lucky they were to be aligned with one of the openings between the circle of stones, since their ultimate position was essentially random, depending on how the spiral fell. She was happy to take her seat on the grass.

  They sat in silence for a while, watching hundreds of people spin around the torrapon and take their seats in ever-growing concentric circles. It was fascinating to watch people from the city mingling with those from the surrounding villages. Members of the Bhagali sat shoulder to shoulder with peasants, servants next to traders, all huddled together on the grass as if equals. In a land with such rigid hierarchy and separation of classes, it was peculiar to see such distinctions appear meaningless as they did today.

  Meanwhile, inside the torrapon itself she could see glimpses of a few Sarnoc, with their white tunics and long braids, preparing for the impending ceremony. She thought she recognized Vaj, though she couldn’t really be sure. In the center, seated quietly on the ground, was another Sarnoc, this one robed in folds of rust-colored cloth, with his head buried in a cowl and bowed deeply as if in contemplation.

  If the Sarnoc were here, she wondered who was with Arric. Senvosra? Servants? She was increasingly worried that Rynar had dragged her out so she wouldn’t know what was happening back at the keep.

  “Arric’s going to recover, isn’t he?” she asked without any preamble.

  Rynar nodded. “The Sarnoc have taken good care of him. My dear, can you please put him out of your mind, just for the afternoon?”

  “Are all of the Sarnoc here?”

  He shook his head. “Just a few. There are ceremonies elsewhere that also require their attention—and,” he added, as if knowing her next question, “someone must keep an eye on the Dosedra.”

  That put her a little more at ease. “So what’s going on in there?”

  Rynar merely held up his hand. “Shh. The ceremony will begin soon.” He added, a bit more gently, “watch, you will see.”

  At about that same moment, someone struck a drum sharply three times, and at that signal the crowd fell silent, all conversation ending abruptly and completely. Across the entire field there was only the sound of the breeze rustling in the trees, and distant birds, and the faint crash of the ocean surf. Initially everything within the torrapon was also still, and no one moved or made a sound inside. Then Sarnoc Vaj emerged. With his head bowed and his hands folded in front of him, he began to slowly walk in a circle around the structure.

  Hundreds of people sitting cross-legged in the grass now bent forward, lowering their heads towards the ground and cupping their hands in front of them. Bewildered, she looked at Rynar, and mimicked what he was doing. Every minute or so she turned her head slightly to the side, glancing at him to see if he did something new. As she sat in this awkward posture, she considered whether it was intended to be a form of supplication, or if it was more symbolic of submission.

  Soon the sound of jespar pipes echoed from behind them. A piper had performed at one of the long dinners she had attended with Rynar but they had left soon after the music started. He explained that he found the sound, which to her resembled bagpipes but in a lower register, unsettling.

  Everyone began to hum in unison to the pipes, and the combined sound vibrated in her chest. She stole a glance at Rynar, wondering if he felt the same way out here that he did in the great hall, but he remained perfectly still, with his eyes closed. Others seemed to have fallen into similar states, though some had taken to rocking back and forth. With a slight upturning of her head she looked towards the torrapon, and noticed that four Sarnoc had located themselves at equidistant points beyond the stone walls. They too appeared to be humming, their heads hanging to their chests and their bodies slowly swinging back and forth, as if swaying in a light breeze.

  With so much hostility towards the Sarnoc, it seemed odd that so many people were participating. Maybe it was like Christmas, where the religious meaning over time had been overshadowed by a general sense of tradition.

  Without warning, the jespar pipes ceased their music, and everyone’s humming likewise stopped.

  There were two drumbeats.

  All the people in the crowd sat up again, other than Kate, whose response was a step behind.

  She felt a little light-headed, but as that sensation quickly wore off, she realized she was more alert, as if her senses were heightened by the ritual meditation. Or maybe it was that she could take deep breaths again, now that she wasn’t bent over towards the ground.

  From inside the torrapon, the Sarnoc began speaking in unison, a long and complex chant in the ancient language of the island. Not even a child cried out during the extended prayer, which she wondered if most of the people understood. From Rynar she had learned that some of the land’s ancient customs had long ago been adopted by the Sardic conquerors, but even so, could the people today really comprehend the meaning behind such a lengthy and complicated invocation? She ached to ask Rynar about it, but his eyes were transfixed on the torrapon, and she did not dare make a sound.

  The prayer ended, and there was a pause. Rynar leaned over. “The one in the dark robe is the caliaga, the lord of the festival,” he described, in a whisper. “He represents the god Yoren, who rules over winter, and serves as witness to our prayers for a mild winter and early spring.”

  Kate watched as the Sarnoc returned inside the torrapon, and adorned their brown-robed colleague with a crown of tree boughs and golden autumn leaves. When this was complete, the four Sarnoc bowed to their caliaga, and then raised their arms to the sky with a shout.

  There was another lengthy prayer, and this time the people within the crowd reached out to their neighbors, joining hands to make a single unbroken chain of bodies. Kate grasped the hand of a young girl with her left hand, and held Rynar’s hand with her right. It was the first time they had had physical contact since the morning of the Council meeting that had ended with the discovery of Arric’s poisoning, and she wished she wasn’t obligated to touch him now. For someone else, it might not have mattered, but he was a healer and could influence her well-being with the quickest touch. There seemed to be no way around it, however, so she suffered the hand-holding, while remaining on her guard.

  When the prayer was over, there were three drumbeats and more humming, but this time Kate thought she could feel the energy of the crowd flowing through them. It was as if they were tangled up in an immense skein of power wrapped around the hillside. Then there were two additional drumbeats, and everyone dropped their hands, and although there was no evidence of this, she sensed that the energy had flowed downhill to be caught within the torrapon by the Sarnoc.

  “They are about to present the caliaga to the people,” Rynar explained softly. “He will hear our prayers, bringing them all to Yoren so that the god might spare us a harsh winter.” Just then, as if on cue, Sarnoc Vaj led the caliaga out from the stones and presented him to the crowd on the side of the torrapon opposite where they sat. She could hear the crowd roaring in a great cheer as the caliaga emerged, but then several shouts marred the general response, though the reason wasn’t clear. Although the outer rings of people still shouted ritual greetings, there seemed to be confusion among those closest to the stones.

  “
That is not a proper response,” he murmured, as if it was an academic matter.

  The Sarnoc walked a quarter of the way around the torrapon, and again presented the caliaga. More cheers, these also tempered by shouts of something other than exaltation.

  “I still can’t see anything.”

  “Patience, Kate.”

  Finally it was their quadrant’s turn to receive the caliaga. The Sarnoc made an announcement in the foreign tongue, and then the man in the robe stepped forth.

  He was tall, with wavy dark hair crowned by a wreath of leaves and vines, and a face that was gaunt and pale under a scruffy beard.

  It was Dosedra Arric.

  Kate cupped her hand over her mouth. Her first response was elation, and she pressed her lips together to prevent from crying out to him. It was more than she could have hoped for. Not only had the Sarnoc been able to reverse the poison—but here he was, outside, and under the Sarnoc’s protection.

  She turned to Rynar, whose attention was split between the activity at the torrapon and the Vosira, who sat with his soldiers at the top of the hill.

  What would the Vosira do if he thought he had been double-crossed by the Sarnoc?

  Mirroring her own agitation, the festival itself was no longer a serene occasion, as conversation and gossip erupted among the people, and a few even shouted support for the Hidden God. She had to admit, it made a twisted sort of sense. From their perspective, if the Sarnoc chose Arric as caliaga, wouldn’t it mean the Sarnoc were traitors? Why would they have taken such a risk? She glanced around, sensing the crowd’s growing restlessness. “What’s going to happen?”

  He turned around, and now was resting on the balls of his feet, ready to spring up at the first sign of trouble. “For what it’s worth, the Dosedra’s safe for now, but he’ll be hunted after the ceremony has concluded. I’m sure Bedoric will offer a reward to whoever brings him back.”

  “You mean, you’ll tell him to do so.” She recognized the now-familiar pattern. “Oh, no, what am I thinking? You’re probably trying to figure out how you can arrest him right now yourself.”

  “Nay, I will do my best to ensure that the ceremony is not undermined. No matter what else he may be, and whether or not the Vosira determines he is guilty of treason, tonight he is caliaga, and that is sacred to all Sarducians. As such, he must be allowed to leave the torrapon safely, or the ceremony will fail, and the gods will punish the people. Afterwards, though… all I can say is, if you want your friend to survive, you’d better hope he can run.”

  Arric, meanwhile, had not allowed the crowd’s consternation to disrupt his solemn duties as caliaga. In fact, as he calmly made the circuit around the torrapon, he didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss at all. He continued to walk slowly until he finished, and then stepped back within the torrapon.

  A few moments later, Arric reemerged, this time closely followed by two Sarnoc. Sarnoc Vaj carried thick folds of light green fabric, and another Sarnoc she hadn’t met held a silver tray heaped with late-blooming flowers and a small basket.

  Absently, Rynar mumbled an explanation, without his eyes leaving the torrapon. “This is when the riliaga is chosen.”

  Kate shielded her eyes to block the glare of the sun as she tried to see any activity within the torrapon. “What’s that?”

  He sat back on his heels, but kept his back straight, providing a better vantage point for himself. “The riliaga shall rule over the summer Laveli festival, and offers herself to the goddess Kerthal as a prayer for healthy crops and a plentiful harvest.” He actually managed to smile slightly.

  Meanwhile, Arric took slow, deliberate steps past each stone, facing the crowd in front of him. He kept his eyes low to the ground, never looking up as townspeople alternately cheered or shouted abusive comments.

  It was as he faced the crowd that she noticed something odd about him. “Is he in some sort of trance—or drugged? He acts like he doesn’t know what’s going on.”

  “Aye, a bit of both. He probably has only a vague sense of where he is or what he’s doing,” Rynar whispered back. “At sunrise the Sarnoc administered herbs to focus his mind and remove all distractions. The humming would have put him under, with the prayer we offered designed to trigger certain thoughts for when he awoke.” He flicked a small insect from his nose. “He has to walk the circle four more times, once to honor each of the gods. Then he will choose the riliaga.”

  Just as he had done the first time, Arric twice more passed without looking directly at them. She noticed that on his third pass he tipped his head up to scan the crowd. Even in the trance his attention seemed to be attracted to something, or someone, beyond them and to the left.

  “Is that Bhara Merel?” she asked aloud as she turned to watch, though she needed no confirmation of her identity. The petite woman with thick curls was unmistakable, even in this crowd. Today she was quite stunning in a gown of autumn colors of crimson and gold, with her curls caught up at her neck with cords of scarlet. Given her bright adornment, she wondered if Merel had been given advance notice of the identity of the caliaga.

  “Hmm? Oh, I believe it is. You may not know, but he courted her before he was sent away to Froida. I must give him credit, for Gevinsin is in good stead with the Vosira. Perhaps this is how he hopes to be spared. While his choice is supposed to reflect the will of the Goddess, it looks like he’s hoping to save his skin.”

  Arric made his fourth pass, and again looked to Merel, who seemed to raise herself up slightly, crouching on her toes. He would choose her when next he appeared.

  On his final circuit, Kate bit her lip and watched Arric approach. The intensity of the crowd’s alternating excitement and restrained hostility took her breath away. With such a volatile situation, her concerns for his safety outpaced any joy she might have otherwise felt at seeing him alive and healthy.

  With painstaking slowness, he began to step amid a mob of Sarducians, a patchwork of smiles and scowls, followed closely behind by the two Sarnoc, their feet following the same path through the crowd. Not a single person tried to hinder him. Maybe it was the intimidating power of the Sarnoc that held people at bay.

  A dozen yards away, the three men passed by where Kate and Rynar sat, too far away for Arric to see her. She craned her neck to watch as he continued up the hill, searching, she supposed, for the most direct course towards Merel. Then he stopped, appearing confused. At that moment he reversed his route by taking a few steps backwards.

  Of course, she realized, he must have lost track of his former fiancée in the crowd. Struck with an overwhelming need to look away, she instead turned her attention to the Sarnoc behind him, and remarkably, Vaj caught her gaze.

  «You worry too much,» he said to her in the way only Sarnoc could communicate, with the words touching her mind. «We have everything under control. The Dosedra will be fine.»

  So the Sarnoc had a plan? She relaxed, secretly pleased to have information Rynar did not know, and turned back to the torrapon to await the next stage of the ceremony.

  Just then a hand fell to her shoulder. Startled, she turned to Rynar, but it wasn’t him. When she looked up, Dosedra Arric held out his hand.

  To her?

  “Y sav talieven na riliaga.”

  She hesitated, and looked to Rynar. What was going on? Where had he come from?

  The Aldrish paled significantly, as if he had suddenly taken ill. Although it appeared he wished to lodge a protest, the sea of people around him must have made him think twice about it. Instead, he explained through clenched teeth, “the Dosedra has chosen you as riliaga.” His voice wavered. “You must follow him. It is Goddess Kerthal’s wish.” His speech was bitter, and she knew inside he was seething, but he did not let anyone see it.

  She stared up at Arric, whose eyes seemed unfocused, the gaze of a stranger.

  “Go with him, Kate,” Rynar directed her, and nudged her shoulder. “You have no choice. Everyone is watching.”

  As if she was a puppet, Kate too
k his hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Feeling dizzy from the intensity of the ritual that had just completed, she stumbled as they stepped past the people in the makeshift aisle. Although she recognized the solemnity of the ritual, she could not hold back a smile. He was here, alive and well. For just that moment, she wanted to be happy, and forget the danger he faced.

  When the pair reached the clearing in front of the stones, a startled Sarnoc unfolded the green cloth he carried, a robe exactly like Arric’s other than the color. Allowing the wind to capture the thin fabric in his hands, it fluttered dramatically over Kate’s head like a banner, and the crowd cheered. Then he pulled it down over her shoulders. Turning her to face the crowd, Sarnoc Vaj crowned her with flowers and handed her the small basket, which was filled with seeds.

  Then the Sarnoc led the pair inside the torrapon.

  Once inside the stone pavilion, none of the Sarnoc spoke at first, though Vaj stared at them with a solemn expression. Then he held out a glysar goblet and indicated with a nod that both Arric and Kate were to sip from it.

  She noticed that the liquid had little flavor, though it numbed her tongue. It also cleared the fog in her head almost immediately, and she saw it had a similar effect on Arric, whose vision refocused as he shook his head.

  “Kate?” he asked, surprised as he stared at her, as if he had been unaware of everything he had done up to this point. “I chose you?” He seemed sincerely dumbfounded and, to her ear, maybe a bit disappointed.

  How could he not have known? “Hi,” she murmured with a nervous smile. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  He nodded slowly, as if trying to remember. “Aye, so I did. I didn’t expect that.” He took her hand and held it high. In a low voice he explained as he led her between the stones, “we must walk around four times before we can leave.” As they stepped forth, he added, “is it me, or do the people seem reluctant to cheer us?”

  They completed three of the four circles around the torrapon in silence. Then she whispered to him, “what happens when we finish this?”