A servant named Osa spoke to Iyjiia. “Has the God of the Day Light revealed to you the name of the next chief of the Sindie servants?”
“There is a child that Uhe took from the ashes of the Diruvedah. Uhe named the child Sindieah. Before it died, Uhe said that the ruler of the Sindie must be one who is not tainted by either war or cowardice. Too young to know war, Sindieah cannot be tainted by war. And it had the courage to live when its people had only the courage to die.
“We, the servants of Aakva, shall rear this child. And when it performs the rites of adulthood, we shall make Sindieah the chief and ruler of the Sindie.”
The tomb was built, the temple begun, and the city named Butaan soon covered the mountain, while the world surrounding the mountain lived in peace and plenty under the rule of Sindieah.
All praised the wisdom of Aakva.
KODA NUVIDA
The Story of Shizumaat
I, Mistaan, set down before you the words of Namndas and Vehya who recited before me the life of Shizumaat and the second truth.
I am Namndas, child of Piera, who was the child of Rukor, who was the child of Ivey, warrior of Uhe’s Seventh Denve. I stand before you here to speak of Shizumaat, for I was Shizumaat’s childhood friend and companion, and I was the one who stood the watch at the mark.
Sindieah Nu the Ancient was the child of Sindieah, Born of Fire. The rule of Sindieah Nu was marked by an increase in the road system begun by its parent, the expansion of cultivated crops in both the Kudah and the Dirudah, and the beginning of the great project to irrigate the Madah by tapping the hidden reservoirs in the Akkujah Mountains.
Regional centers, each governed by a servant appointed by Sindieah Nu, settled disputes, caused way stations and granaries to be built, and built and maintained the roads.
The works ordered by the servants and their chief were accomplished by each Sindie’s performance of Aakva’s Laws of Gift and Labor handed down by the servants during Sindieah’s rule. When the harvests were plentiful, the Law could be served by giving one-twelfth of the harvest to be stored in the granaries. When the crops were poor, each adult over the age of four years had to spend at least one day out of twelve working under the direction of the servants. In exchange for this, the workers were fed from the granaries administered by the servants of Aakva.
The firstborn of Sindieah Nu was Sindieah Ay. And after its parent had retired from the servants, and during Sindieah Ay’s rule of the servants of Aakva, the Temple of Uhe was completed. The cut-stone walls of the temple were as tall as eight Sindie and they enclosed an area of sixty by ninety paces. The roof of wooden beams and slabstone was supported by square stone columns arranged in six proportionate rectangles. At the center of the smallest rectangle was the great stone tomb that covered Uhe’s ashes.
The eastern wall of the temple was an open row of stone columns. Northern and southern walls each had center doorways only two paces wide. The wall facing the Madah had no opening. During the day, light was provided by the Parent of All; during the night, light was provided by the three hundred oil lamps that were suspended from the temple’s great ceiling.
The shelters around the temple were separated by narrow streets, and were made of both stone and wood. In one of these houses, covered by the afternoon shadow of the temple, a Sindie shaper of iron, in Butaan to perform its duty to Aakva through labor, gave birth to a child. The shaper of iron’s name was Caduah, and Caduah named its offspring Child of Duty, Shizumaat.
Because of the birth of the child, and because Caduah had received from those who served Sindieah Ay’s court several commissions for iron house ornaments, the shaper of iron made its permanent home in Butaan. Caduah was a dutiful worshipper of Aakva, and Caduah instructed its child in the ways and truths of the God of the Day Light, and of the servants. Shizumaat learned the story of creation, the laws as revealed to Rhada, and the story of Uhe.
On the beginning of Shizumaat’s third year, Caduah entered its child in the temple to perform before the servants the rites of adulthood. Shizumaat recited the story of creation, the laws, and the story of Uhe; and then Shizumaat recited its family line from its parent, Caduah, to the founder of its line, the Mavedah hunter called Limish.
And when the rites were completed, Caduah applied for Shizumaat to become a servant of Aakva.
Ebneh was the servant who had heard the child’s recitation, and Ebneh was sufficiently impressed by the performance that it enrolled Shizumaat into the Aakva Kovah, the School of God. The nights Shizumaat would spend in its parent’s house; the days Shizumaat would spend in the temple learning the secrets, signs, laws, wishes, and visions of the Parent of All.
I, Namndas, had entered the Aakva Kovah the year before Shizumaat, and was placed in charge of Shizumaat’s class. I drew this duty because the servants of the temple considered me the least worthy of my own class. While my companions sat at the feet of the servants and engaged in learned discourse, I would chase dirt.
My charges were assigned a place in the darkness next to the Madah wall where my own class had begun the year before. On the morning of the first day of their instruction, Shizumaat’s class sat upon the smooth stone floor and listened as I spoke the rules of the temple.
“I, Namndas, am your charge-of-class. You are the lowest class in the temple, and for this reason, the care and cleaning of the temple is left to you. I tell you now that I will never find as much as a single fleck of dust in the temple while I am your charge-of-class. You will clean the filth from the air before it lands upon these stones; you will wash the dust from the feet of those who enter the temple.” I pointed toward the soot-blackened ceiling. “Every evening it is your responsibility to trim and fuel the temple’s lamps. Through all of this, you will keep clean yourselves. Your bodies will be clean and your robes clean and mended.”
Shizumaat stood. It was tall for its age, and there was a strange brightness to its eyes. “Namndas, when are we to be given our instruction? When will we learn?”
I felt my face grow hot. Such impudence! “You shall be allowed to receive instruction when I inform Servant Ebneh that you are worthy. Sit and be silent!”
Shizumaat resumed its seat upon the floor, and I issued a glare that encompassed all nine of them. “You will not speak except in answer to a question from me or from one of the servants. You are here to learn, and the first thing you must learn is obedience.”
I returned my glare to Shizumaat and saw it carrying an enigmatic expression upon its face. I spoke to Shizumaat. “I cannot read your face, new-charge. What does it say?”
Shizumaat remained seated upon the floor, but looked at me as it spoke. “Does Aakva, then, judge its servants by how well they imitate the dumb animals, and their skill at wielding a scrub rag?”
“Your words court disaster.”
“Namndas, when you asked your question, did you want from me lies or truth?”
“This is a temple of truth. What are you called?”
“I am called Shizumaat.”
“Then, Shizumaat, I must tell you that I see little hope for your graduation from the Madah wall to the center of the temple.”
Shizumaat nodded and looked past the forest of columns toward Uhe’s tomb. “I think the truth serves you at last, Namndas.”
The days passed, and although it remained silent, Shizumaat performed its temple duties well enough. Shizumaat, however, always appeared restless; and it listened to all the talk of the temple as though trying to memorize it. By the time two new classes were formed, and my charges occupied the south end of the Madah Wall, Ebneh stood before the class to hear their recitations of Aakva, Rhada, Daultha, and Uhe.
When all had completed their recitations, Ebneh held out its hands. “We call the Story of Uhe the Koda Ovida; and what is the first truth?”
There are, of course, many truths within the first Koda. The student’s task is to draw from the story the greatest truth. The first student stood and spoke the accepted truth of the story: “Th
at it is Aakva’s law that the servants of Aakva will speak the true wishes of Aakva.”
Ebneh nodded, pleased. “And do you all agree?”
All of the students nodded, except for Shizumaat. My rebel stared through the columns at Uhe’s tomb until Ebneh called out. “Shizumaat, were you listening?”
Shizumaat’s eyes turned toward Ebneh. “I was listening.”
“Do you agree to this student’s interpretation of the Koda Ovida?”
“No.” Shizumaat looked back toward Uhe’s tomb.
“No? No?” Ebneh stood next to Shizumaat. “You will stand and explain!” Shizumaat stood and looked at Ebneh. “What truth do you see in the Koda Ovida?” demanded the servant.
“Ebneh, I see that a rule stood between the Mavedah and survival; I see that the rule was nothing sacred, but made by Sindie; and I see that Uhe saw this and cast the rule aside to save its people. The truth I see, then, is that rules are meant to serve the Sindie; the Sindie is not meant to serve rules.”
Ebneh stared in shock at Shizumaat for a long moment; and then it asked: “Then, Shizumaat, should we or should we not obey the wishes of Aakva handed down by the servants?”
“If the rule is good, it should be obeyed; if it is not good, it should be cast aside as Uhe cast aside the Law of Peace.”
Ebneh’s eyes narrowed, and those who sat near Shizumaat edged away from it to avoid the wrath that all could see gathering above Caduah’s child. The servant continued with a voice filled with menace. “Shizumaat, do you say that the laws of Aakva can be false?”
I closed my eyes. Ebneh was tricking Shizumaat into blasphemy. I sent a warning with my eyes, but Shizumaat ignored me. It knew what Ebneh was doing. Shizumaat was too stubborn, however, to bow to the pain the servants would inflict on its body upon the admission of the blasphemy. It would not recant and would be broken. Shizumaat spoke: “If the laws come from the servants, then the laws come from mortal, fallible creatures, and can be false.”
Ebneh stood upright. “But if the laws come from Aakva?”
“Then either Aakva is fallible, or there is no Aakva. This I saw in the Story of Uhe.”
A terrible silence came down upon the temple. I rushed up to Shizumaat and grabbed it by the arm. “Think, Shizumaat! Think upon what you say!”
Shizumaat pulled its arm away from my grasp. “I have thought upon it, Namndas. That is why I answered as I did.”
Ebneh pushed me away from the student. “Stand you away, Namndas, unless you choose eternity by the Madah Wall!” The servant was so angry spittle from its lips flew into my face. I was too frightened to wipe it away. Slowly Ebneh turned and faced Shizumaat. “Do you know what you will suffer because of your words?”
The young one smiled. “Yes, Ebneh. I know the rules.”
“You know them, yet you scorn them?”
“I do not scorn them. I question them. I question their source. I question their validity. I know the servants will beat me for what I have said; but I ask you this: will beating me prove the existence of Aakva and the truth of its laws?”
The servant made a sound as though it was being strangled, then it ran from the Madah Wall, shouting orders as it hurried away. Shizumaat was to face the God of the Day Light.
In the morning, with the Parent of All illuminating the eastern columns of the temple, I climbed the steps and found Shizumaat on its knees between the columns, its face resting against the paving stones. The stones were stained with the deep yellow of the student’s blood. Shizumaat’s eyes were closed, its chest heaving. Behind Shizumaat were two servants holding long whipping rods. Ebneh stood to Shizumaat’s side and ordered, “Look up, Shizumaat. Look up!”
Shizumaat placed its hands upon the blood-stained stones and pushed until it sat back upon its heels, the morning light of Aakva showing the gray of Shizumaat’s face. “I am looking.”
“What do you see?”
Shizumaat teetered for a moment, its eyes squinted, then it took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I see the great morning light we call Aakva.”
Ebneh bent over and hissed into the student’s ear. “And is that light a god?”
“I do not know. When you say god, what do you mean?”
“God! God is God! Are you stupid?”
“A timely question, Ebneh. Quite timely.”
Ebneh grabbed Shizumaat’s shoulder with one hand and pointed at Aakva with the other. “Is that the Parent of All?”
Shizumaat’s shoulders slumped and it slowly shook its head. “I do not know.”
“What does your back tell you, Shizumaat?”
“My back tells me many things, Ebneh. It tells me that you are displeased with me; it tells me that live meat whipped with sufficient enthusiasm will split and bleed; it tells me that the process is painful.” Shizumaat looked up at Ebneh. “It does not tell me that Aakva is a god; it does not tell me that the laws of the servants are sacred truths.”
Ebneh pointed at the two rod-carrying servants. “Lay into this one until its back does speak to it of Aakva!”
One of the servants dropped its rod, turned, and walked into the temple. The other studied Shizumaat for a moment, and then handed its rod to Ebneh. “Shizumaat’s back has learned all that a rod can teach it. Perhaps, Ebneh, you can think of a more persuasive argument.” Then the second servant turned and went into the temple.
Ebneh stared after the departing servant, then threw away the rod and looked down at Shizumaat. “Why do you defy Aakva? Why do you defy me?”
“I do not defy either, Ebneh. I only tell the truth that I see. Would you prefer that I lie to you? Would that somehow serve your truth?”
Ebneh shook its head. “You will shame your parent.”
Shizumaat bowed its head until Ebneh turned and stormed off into the temple. Then Shizumaat looked up at me. “Namndas, help me to your room. I cannot make it by myself.”
I pulled the student to its feet. “Do you not want me to take you to your own home?”
Shizumaat laughed, although the effort pained it. “A beating in defense of my truth is one thing, Namndas. I am not up to my parent beating me because I was beaten. That seems a little overdone.”
Shizumaat closed its eyes and slumped into my arms. I lifted it and carried the student from the temple to my room off the square.
When Shizumaat recovered, it again took its place on the Madah Wall with its class. I was surprised to see it there, yet even more surprised to see myself still charge-of-class. The only thing that changed was that Ebneh no longer took the recitations of the new students. The servant called Varrah took its place. Varrah heard Shizumaat’s recitation as well as its individual discourse on the Laws of Aakva and the meaning of the Story of Uhe.
The beating it had taken had not changed the words of Shizumaat’s discourse by as much as a single grunt. Varrah, though, made no comment. Instead it listened, took the recitations of the other students, and then complimented me on the brilliance of my charges and the energy of their thinking.
The terror of not knowing the safe path, it haunted me. My life, my future, was at stake. If by some lapse of the gods I should manage to graduate to the center of the temple, I would at least have food and a place to sleep when the years caught me. If the servants should cast me off, though, I might as well be hawking sand in the Madah. It was as though I could see the future, though. My charge Shizumaat would somehow put me between the servants and itself, and I could no longer keep myself clear. All I knew for certain, though, was that my heart would not allow Shizumaat ever again to be beaten.
The days passed, and Shizumaat continued to ask questions and come to conclusions that delighted Varrah and horrified me as well as the rest of my charges. Varrah, though, encouraged Shizumaat to think and question, and soon all of us were thinking and speaking in new ways about new things. Once I told my charge that I believed that someday it would eventually change even the name the servants used to address the God of the Day Light.
“Varrah is t
he key, Namndas, not I,” Shizumaat answered. “Questions, new ideas, different ways of thinking, these come naturally. Varrah allows them to happen by not forbidding them.”
It was different, going to the Madah Wall, excited about what we would learn each morning, delighted to be part of Uhe’s Temple, and eager to explore the future. Before the winter rains came, Varrah heard all of our recitations and moved our class off the Madah Wall and within the first row of columns. Varrah kept me as charge of the promoted class, even though I was still a student.
The one lesson that hovered above me, though, waiting for the least-expected moment to inflict itself, was that everything changes. What is up will be down, what is light will be dark, what is happy will be sad, what is good will be found out and destroyed. Before the lesson, though, we investigated, challenged, and learned. As always, Shizumaat was our leader.
Now that our class was in the second rectangle, Varrah told us that we must take what we had learned and apply it to the world outside the temple. “Learn what is, challenge it, and seek to improve or replace with something better.”
Some of the students were sent to the Denvedah to learn war. Some of the students were sent to the farms to learn growing. Some of the students were sent to the artisans, markets, and moneylenders to learn the ways of making, buying, and selling. Shizumaat and I were sent to the last of the nomads to learn the ways of the hunt.
I complained to Shizumaat that we had drawn the assignment with the least opportunity. After all, the days of the nomads were over. The world was growing crops and livestock, and trading in markets for things manufactured by the artisans. Nomads created nothing, learned nothing, and made no knowledge upon which greater knowledge could be built. That was, I concluded, what kept the old tribes the same for thousands of years until Uhe shattered the world’s ways of doing things.
Shizumaat said to me, “Namndas, every person, place, and thing can teach us, if we have the wit to learn.” And with that, we went to Shizumaat’s aged parent. Caduah was pleased that Varrah had advanced Shizumaat with its class, and that the servant had such a high opinion of its child. We bid Caduah goodbye and struck out for the land of the Kuvedah where the last of the nomadic tribes still followed the darghat.
Enemy Papers Page 6