But all that did not matter in Iktai’s eyes. The High Priestess only cared for the most sycophantic disciples rather than the most able.
Shera saw the house as a testament to her abilities. There were other accomplishments too. Using the Jewel’s power, she was able to carry water from the river flowing in lower Earth, forming a blue vein of cool liquid to course through Sedayval, ensuring the floating city a fresh water supply. There was also the rearranging of several houses which required telekinetic lifting. All this Shera did effortlessly, for amongst the Young Acolytes, she was the most attuned to the Jewel of Maan.
If she were a Young Acolyte about two hundred years ago, she would have been a favorite to be the next Priestess, and subsequently the choice to be the High Priestess. But, the religion of Maan had turned from merit to mouth. It was a hierarchy now, based not on one’s ability to properly channel the Jewel of Maan’s energy, but to flatter the High Priestess.
They stared at the distant towns and city, enamored into silence by the view.
“Isn’t today the first anniversary of your mother’s death?” Hazpo suddenly asked.
“It is…”
“Do you miss her?”
“Terribly. It feels like I have lost my best friend. She was the only person who told me not to listen to the others and keep up with my studies,” Shera sighed. “Gone too soon.”
Chapter 3: Family
It was close to dawn when Shera finally reached home. The beams of the sun colored the eastern horizon with a minute tinge of blue. Her father, Damas, was already outside the house, fastening his wares against his cart.
The fatigue on his lined face was evident, having not slept the day before. His eyes were still swollen from their small ceremony earlier. It had been a hard year for the both of them, and there was still much healing to be done. Her relationship with him had been sheer awkwardness since the moment they met during her childbirth – he was not good with kids. And now, at eighteen, he could not wrap the fact that the girl he avoided for most of her childhood was now a woman, and the glue that linked them together, Shera’s mother, had died.
Shera and her father had never been close. Her mother had kept the two of them from fraying apart. And now, her demise was the only thing that kept them both together. The passing of her mother had driven a wedge between them; but that was the funny thing about wedges – it made them both fall into it awkwardly. There was a concession made between the two of them to be there for each other, until one did not need the other.
“Were you waiting for me to come home?” Shera asked softly.
Her father grunted and pulled at the ropes. The jut fibers tightened around the crates containing wares from Sedayval, much procured in several towns in Enmei. Sedayval was known for their austere potteries and classy knickknacks. Her father was also an artisan, having made all the items he peddled.
“I will be gone for three days this time. Stay safe,” he said, his back turned to her.
Shera wanted to reach out and embrace her father. The quiet, rare moments of conversation they ever had were often in reminiscence of her mother, or the turmoil unfolding in Enmei. There was never an opportunity to talk about her Priestesshood, or his love life. She had heard rumors of his going on dates with the widow down the street from where they stayed, but Shera felt it too presumptuous to ask her father about it.
She often busied herself with the proper governance of the house, cooking and cleaning when he was there, doing the very same things when he wasn’t. Though she hated to admit it, her father’s departure to Enmei often made the house more light-hearted. There wasn’t a cloud of gloom hanging around, and she could sing, even laugh when he wasn’t around.
He was about to get on the cart when he hesitated for a moment. Placing his hand on the groove on the panel of the cart, he cursed.
“Damned thing won’t work!” he exclaimed, proceeding to hit the sides of the cart.
Shera sighed. The Jewel of Maan only channeled its energy to the believers. Ever since her mother died, she noticed that things did not work well for her father anymore. It was as if he stopped believing in Maan, and in doing so, he could not channel its powers properly.
“Here, let me,” Shera said, sidling next to him. She placed her hand in the hand shaped groove on the panel. Immediately, the panel glowed and the runes of Maan illuminated in its bluish-green hue. The cart gave out a paroxysmal tremble before the wheels began to move.
“Hmmph!” her father grunted. “Blasted cart doesn’t listen to me anymore!”
Shera merely smiled. “Have a safe trip, father.”
Her father grunted and waved her off, before setting down the street. If he was lucky, it would last him till the main entrance in the middle of Sedayval. Once transported down to Earth, he would have to rent some of the horses to pull his cart all the way to Enmei.
As he made a right turn at the end of the junction, the pallor of gloom that was her father’s presence was lifted off Shera’s shoulders. She entered the home feeling slightly happier. A picture of her mother hung on the wall, gracing the living room with her beautiful white eyes.
Shera had none of her mother’s beauty. She was too tall for a young woman, her hair was too coarse. Even after being coiffed for the ComMaane, it was still deemed an unruly bird’s nest of a head by some of the snarkier priestesses. The only gift she received from her mother was the greyish-white eyes, an uncommon trait of the people of the Shando region.
It was probably one of the reasons why Shera did not feel she fit in, for having greyish-white eyes was a common characteristic of a Dragon Knight. In fact, her mother, Irinde, had hailed from the Eastern Continent of Shando. An exuberant woman in need of an adventure, Irinde had left home at the tender age of eighteen, and travelled the entire continents of Xera and Enmei before meeting her father at a small tavern just as he was about to return to Sedayval.
A native Sedayvalian, the union of her father and an outsider, a Shando Native at that, was met with skepticism by the other Sedayvalians. But they had nothing to worry about, for Shera’s mother was a well-liked woman. She took to life in Sedayval easily. And she was a firm believer of Maan too.
Shera grew up listening to her mother’s stories of Shando. Her mother was never one who spoke ill of anyone or anything. To her, Shando was home, a place where her heart would always be, till the day she died.
Then, just when Shera turned seventeen, a mysterious sickness suddenly began to ravage Irinde. Shera and her father were distraught. Healers from all over Sedayval were called to alleviate her mother’s sufferings, to no avail. Three days after her mother began to cough blood and have a strange growth of scales grow at her right shin. Not too long after, she died. The funeral was held quietly, and was graced by some of their families’ closest friends and relatives.
To many mourners’ surprise, Irinde’s funeral was graced by the presence of High Priestess Iktai. High Priestess nodded at the pale body of Irinde, said a few prayers, and left.
In accordance to the religion of Maan, her mother was cremated, and the ashes were sprinkled at the Western star point of Sedayval. It was one of the most breathtaking views in the whole of Sedayval. The western hemisphere of the floating city overlooked the Shur’Avi oceans, which stretched for thousands of miles. To their east laid the thick clouds and unruly jungles which kept the region of Shando hidden from naked, prying eyes. East Sedayval was Irinde’s favorite spot to reminisce about her hometown, but the Western Star Point was where she had gotten married. And so, her father had thought it apt that the ashes be sprinkled there.
There was an argument between Shera and her father over the choosing of Irinde’s last resting place. She was insistent on having her mother’s ashes be spread at the Eastern Star Point, to respect her heritage as a Native Shando. But, her father, Damas, was doggedly insistent towards the Western Star Point. He had never acknowledged Irinde’s Shando traits, even if they were always there, staring at him within Irinde’s white-gr
ey eyes.
Of course, the death of her mother invoked a few mysterious questions. Shera herself was lit with curiosity as to the circumstances of her mother’s death. The sickness was one the healers had never seen, and the dragon-like scales speckled on her mother’s skin was another matter altogether.
What made it odd was her father’s forbiddance of speaking of the scales. He would gladly speak with melancholy of how he held her as she coughed blood, and trembled in high fevers. But one thing he never spoke off were the green, reptilian growths on his wife’s thighs. In fact, he had kept it hidden from the healers when they came to try and heal her mother.
Though curious, Shera could never find a way to answer the questions. There were no other natives from Shando living on Sedayval. And as a Young Acolyte, she was not allowed out of Sedayval, under any circumstances. The purest of Maan’s vessels remained close to the Jewel, never to distance themselves at all.
So, when news of Shando natives coming for the Festival of Providence reached her ears, she was both apprehensive and excited. For once, she would be able to meet people who might have known her mother – perhaps a distant kin.
The circumstances of her mother’s death weighed heavily on Shera’s mind. She wondered if there was more to it than just a tragic twist of fate.
*
A small knock on the door woke Shera up from a dream. Looking out the window, the sun was already high up in the sky. She stretched and yawned, mentally cursing at the person who had disturbed her sleep.
The knocking on the door persisted in a fashion that was only unique to Andel’s.
“Coming!” Shera yelled out, opening the front door to see a young man in his early twenties standing there with a goofy smile on his face. He hoisted a small knapsack from which scrolls were coming out like pipes to an organ.
“You were asleep?” he asked. “That is quite unlike you.”
“There was a Commune last night,” Shera replied sleepily. “It ended pretty late.”
She gave way for Andel to enter the house, holding two small containers of food. He often visited during the lunch break, using that time to eat with Shera.
Andel’s eyes widened. “Commune? But there was no announcement.”
Shera yawned and went over to the wash basin. She rinsed her mouth with the cold water and turned to her lover. “The High Priestess suddenly insisted in meeting the Priestesses and Acolytles last night. We only knew about it an hour before it began.”
“Why? Did something happen?”
She proceeded to tell Andel about the Shandorians coming for the Festival of Providence. As her story progressed, Andel’s face darkened. He placed the containers of food on the table and sat down with a pensive look on his face. He did not seem too surprised by her story, though she purposely omitted the part where Iktai had denounced her in front of the other Acolytes and Priestesses. Andel did not need to know that.
Andel was a teacher in the local Sedayval Academy. He specialized in history, and his research often granted him the ability to travel out of Sedayval to the foreign lands of Enmei and Xera. Once, he had even reached the eastern city of Ben-Airo, in search of maps of the region to decorate the Sedayval Library. His journey into Shando lands had to be cut short for the icy mountainous ranges were too harrowing for him alone.
When Shera finished her story, Andel coughed and removed his glasses, settling it on the table. He massaged his temple, the news giving him quite a headache.
“There were rumors circulating in the Academy too,” he said. “Looks like it is true then.”
He opened the containers of food, and the smell of dumplings and porridge filled the kitchen. Fetching some spoons, they sat together and ate by the window.
Her eyes caught the blot of ink spattered on his knuckles from the amount of writing he often did in the academy, and was suddenly reminded of the long hours he spent teaching and researching. It was beginning to push them apart.
Andel’s pursuit of knowledge came from his obsession towards thaumaturgy and science. He shared the thoughts of many academicians in Sedayval – that the Jewel of Maan in the heart of Sedayval imbibed a more thaumaturgic element than a religious one.
This is where Shera and he had spent countless arguments. Shera believed that the goddess, Maan, descended from the heavens above to aid Queen Vahana I in the war. Acting as Maan’s vessel, the Queen easily tore apart their enemies. Before Maan left the queen’s body, she laid claim over the land, and carved it off the face of the earth, thus creating the floating city of Sedayval. And to remind people of her sheer awesome power, the goddess embedded the Jewel of Maan into the heart of Sedayval.
The Jewel of Maan was the nucleus to the matrix that was Sedayval. One could not survive without the other. Sedayval floated and lived and functioned because of the jewel, and in return, the city provided the Jewel with reverent believers.
For a while, their relationship was fueled by philosophic arguments. She, the believer; he, the healthy skeptic. But recently, Andel had taken to a more disparaging view of the Jewel of Maan. And it did not help when Andel accused the High Priestess of fueling false beliefs amongst the people of Sedayval.
He reached out for a dumpling in his bowl and placed it on hers as they ate in silence. He caught her staring at his knuckles made blue from the smudges of ink. Settling his bowl on the table, he bent to the side to fish out a few scrolls from his bag.
Smoothing them open at the surface of the table, Shera recognized same diagrams to be the outline of Sedayval, viewed from transversely and from the top. Multiple annotations in Andel’s chicken claw handwriting were scattered across the paper. Each section of Sedayval from its multiple points of view had a single circle. Shera knew that Andel was researching the exact position of the Jewel of Maan within Sedayval.
It has been a mystery that has stumped Academicians for three centuries. The precise location of the Jewel was a secret only kept by the High Priestess. It gave them the upper rein over the others in the city.
“We calculated where its energy was the highest, and triangulated it to a few positions,” Andel said excitedly, having lost all his appetite for the half-eaten bowl of porridge. He pointed to several places on the scroll.
Shera looked at the diagrams. As a Young Acolyte, the exact location of the Jewel of Maan was kept a secret from her, too. Only the most trusted in Iktai’s court would be given the honor. That was what Hazpo meant by behaving in Iktai’s court. Those who listened to the High Priestess, and gave her the proper honor, would have it reciprocated by the revealing of the Jewel of Maan. It was the highest piece of knowledge everyone vied for, even Shera.
“What are you going to do with such information?”
“Isn’t it obvious? We are going to look for the Jewel.”
Shera slammed the container on her table, bits of porridge flew out of the rim. A small blot of congee found its way to the border of Andel’s scroll. He gave out a shout and brushed away the food from the scroll before rolling it up.
“Maan’s feet, Shera! Be careful! I spent the whole night conceptualizing that diagram!”
Shera did not care. Andel had crossed the line, and they were back in the argument. He stuffed the scroll back into his satchel, mumbling under his breath.
“You can’t be fucking serious. If you dig up the Jewel of Maan, it might spoil the entire ecosystem that is Sedayval! That very Jewel powers this city!”
“We aren’t going to do anything with it, Shera. We just want proof of its existence. Why should the High Priestess be the only one who knows of its location?”
“You are jealous,” Shera realized. “You want to harness its powers too.”
“There is no reason that those undergoing Priestesshood should be the only ones who can channel the Jewel’s power. If it is a thaumaturgic element, it is the property of everybody in Sedayval!”
“It is your property, you selfish bastard. The Jewel ensures that you have a life in this city! It provides all the n
ecessities we need. We as the acolytes and priestesses, are the vessels of the Jewel’s power. Isn’t that enough for you?”
“No. As long as the power remains in the High Priestess’s grasps, we will all be mere puppets. Why should we blindly believe in Maan’s existence, Shera?”
“Because Maan exists!” Shera exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. “What more proof do you want?”
“I want to see the Jewel of Maan with my own eyes,” Andel admitted angrily. Once he started arguing, the vein on his left temple throbbed, mimicking the rise in his emotions. “I want to be given the right to channel its powers! It isn’t fair that only those in the Priestesshood are allowed that privilege.”
“So, this is a matter of privilege then?” Shera asked, incredulous. “The Priestesshood is only allowed for Sedayvalian girls, Andel. If you want it so bad, go for a sex change!”
The Truth in Lies: A TALE OF MANN Page 3