When she did choose her path, it would be an interesting thing to witness. There was great force locked up in that slight body, with none of the holy innocence he sensed in the Zeddayah, rather a furnace which would burst into riotous flame one day. For the moment she appeared, like Berin, to be no more than a passenger on this venture. Piddur had asked Idressin about it once and received a brief and pointed reply. "There are no passengers. Without either of them all our efforts will come to nought."
He observed her now, listening to Idressin even as she smiled at the antics of the young swimmers. At every bhereth she had struck up an instant rapport with the children, dissolving the barriers of language with her first smile. He had also seen her carrying water tirelessly for the wounded during the escape from Karkor, fearlessly assisting the slowest in their flight from the cavalry, walking on uncomplaining day after day over the burning Harb.
There were many facets to this girl. As a Sarab Piddur took patience and endurance for granted in men and women alike. Yet he also knew enough of the world to realise that many of the trials of the last two months had been utterly new to Tariska and he wondered how his own countrywomen would fare if faced with difficulties so far outside their experience.
No. He revised his own earlier thoughts. This little party was going to do more than change life on the Harb. He had a premonition that in due time there would be other peoples and other lands touched by them and not least by this young woman.
They ate that night with Sha'aha and her family, her old father, her unmarried younger sister and brother, and her two children, one of whom Caldar recognised as a particularly troublesome swimming pupil. Her husband was with Remakkib's party. There were apparently rumours in the doukha about the identity of the strangers, but Piddur had been deliberately evasive and by using only Caldar and Rasscu's ordinary names had dampened interest to the point where they were able to spend the evening in peace.
Sitting outside later, as the stars gradually took over the sky, Tariska found herself next to Piddur again. She was coming to feel something close to affection for the gruff Sarab, as much a fanatic as any of his people, but courteous and engagingly simple too. His Shattun was becoming more fluent now and it had become natural to turn to him with her questions about Sarai life.
She was a little uneasy with their concept of God. Around the Lake people viewed the Gods and Creation and other cosmic matters with a distant respect. Her own people, the Espars, had their temples dedicated to the All-Creator, which were crowded at festival times and empty in between. The clans, the Tesseri, the Norrlii, and all the other peoples around the Lake had their own beliefs too, but nothing like this.
Here it was definitely different. Their belief in their God was immediate and touched every part of their daily lives. At dawn and sunset short periods of remembrance brought everything to a halt for a few short minutes. There was no formal prayer: every Sarab of whatever age simply stopped and ‘remembered God’. In fact God seemed to be the point of reference for everything which happened to them or was likely to. She wanted to know more and was still wondering how to broach the subject, when Berin spoke and did it for her.
"I asked you before, Piddur, on the journey why the Sarai never drink all the water in their cups and you just said it was your custom. Tonight Sha'aha's father actually emptied the last bit onto the ground. Why would he do that in a country where water’s so scarce?"
"Sha'aha's father was obeying the old custom which few people now follow. The last drops of water are God's share."
Berin looked as puzzled as ever.
"We leave them as a reminder to ourselves that all water and all things come by God's gift. When a man is thirsty, his greed for water dominates him and makes him believe that only fulfilling his need and his desire will satisfy him. Whereas only God can satisfy him."
There was a short silence, then the Sarab resumed. "Having you as my companions for these few weeks makes me begin to see myself and my people as a stranger would. A little, anyway. It is not easy when you have lived a life as fixed as ours to open the doors to a wider world."
He looked across at Berin. "My answer did not make clear to you what you wished to know? Let me try again. Thirty two years ago the rains failed for the third year in succession. The lakes here were completely empty by early summer and all over the Harb crops were failing as the water-caves dried up. I remember the Year of Drought as a child. The family from a neighbouring bhereth came to stay with us when their water ran dry. We had little enough for ourselves, but no one questioned their coming. The water was in God's gift, and our neighbours had as much right to it as we did."
"But I thought you said that the woman who owned the bhereth owned the water rights as well," Berin queried.
"And so it is. That is why we need our little customs to remind us that we do not truly own anything. All is on loan from God. Possession is a convenience by which we live, but we do well not to cling on to anything too tightly, even our lives."
No one said anything. Even Berin was temporarily silenced by this expression of powerful and all-embracing faith. Sha'aha's soft voice spoke in Sarai in the darkness behind them. It had transpired at the meal that she understood Shattun much better than she could speak it, so her words were always relayed through Piddur or Idressin. It was the Sarab who translated this time.
"Sha'aha thinks that you should know that we are not all so perfect. Every year there are disputes over land and water, and over women too. In fact,” he added, “almost all disputes are caused by women in one way or another."
A silvery laugh from the shadows greeted this remark, followed by a rejoinder in Sarai, which Piddur dutifully passed on. "She says it is true. Women cause most of the trouble on the Harb. But that is because they are in charge of almost everything to do with our everyday lives. It is easy to adopt a lofty attitude to an argument over field boundaries when it is not your responsibility to provide food for your family through the winter or to pass on sufficient land to be split between two daughters."
"But I've seen nearly as many men working in the fields as women," Berin remarked. "Or is she joking about providing food?"
"No, Berin. She said responsibility. Men work the fields and orchards also and do all the work on the water conduits. But the woman of a bhereth is responsible for its well-being. It is she who is held to have failed if the store is not full, even if it is the fault of her husband."
They slept outside, as they had every night on the Harb, and woke to another perfect dawn. Piddur chafed at keeping the Rahidor’s presence a secret, but acquiesced at once when Idressin pointed out that unlike a Zeddayah the position of Rahidor had to be formally confirmed by the whole Sarai Council; it would not be wise to preempt their deliberations.
"As an outsider, a Bodrak," the tutor continued, "I advise you, Piddur, not to put too much hope on what will come out of this Council. They haven’t seen what you’ve seen and you tell me that they’re old. Old men are naturally cautious. It’s important that they acknowledge the Rahidor. Of course in the end it won’t matter what they decide: the truth can’t be denied for long. As you would say yourselves, God’s will is not the outcome of a Council meeting."
A long lazy day in the sun ensued with almost continuous swimming lessons. Piddur finally solved the problem of their unruly pupils trying to drown themselves by giving them a stern talk about 'Ramsa Hethin'. Self-discipline was one of the most prized Sarai virtues and when the tall Sarab told the children that Ramsa Hethin was as important in learning to swim as in other serious arts, they became instantly obedient.
**
That evening the Tinker arrived with Remakkib and Sha'aha's husband. No friction in this bhereth anyway, Tariska thought, as she watched the tender greeting of the couple. After they had all eaten, the Tinker told them that some of the Council had already reached the doukha ahead of them. The others were expected the next day and the meeting would begin at once that same evening if all were present.
It had been a long hard journey across the Harb, travelling twice as far as the younger party had come, yet the old man looked relaxed and fresh. Remakkib gave him a disgusted look, commenting, "This old man's a menace. I think my legs are six inches shorter than they were two months ago." He laughed. "Still he did get the older members of the Council moving. They were moaning about how far it was to the Hamalli Doukha, until this aged Bodrak spoke up and said he had just walked from Karkor to talk to them and he was making his way over here in the next week or two. For shame they had to close their mouths and keep up."
"Have all come?" Piddur asked.
"Tihiya is raiding into Dendria. We have left word for him. All the others will be here, though there were objections, not least from the Ferezzin." He turned to Caldar and Rasscu. "The full Council normally meets once every year in midsummer. Only one special meeting has been held before as far back as we can remember and that was in the Year of Drought. But they know they must come. Your presence here is too important. They just find it difficult to grasp that after a thousand years this is happening now in our time and that we must deal with it."
"I know the feeling," Berin murmured to no one in particular.
After Remakkib's words it was with some uncertainty that Caldar accompanied his friends to the meeting place the next evening. It proved to be a large oval amphitheatre formed by several shallow ledges of rock with a small opening at one end. Fifteen men and one woman now sat at the stone table which filled this opening, while a couple of hundred spectators were scattered around, most of them as close as possible so that they could hear the proceedings, although the words seemed to carry well. Under the Tinker's guidance the visitors settled in on the second row and watched, as first Remakkib and then Piddur gave their accounts and answered questions until well after sunset.
They ate late that night, after the meeting had broken up. Remakkib would say little, besides commenting that old men took a lot of persuading. Next morning it was the same story, except that two more Sarai were at the table.
"The cattle guards on the night the lions came," Idressin said quietly.
The discussion dragged on all morning and appeared to become quite heated before the group paused to eat. In the afternoon the Tinker was invited to join them. The Sarai audience swelled and shrunk alternately throughout the day, reaching a peak in the evening of close to a thousand. This gathering of the chiefs was clearly arousing increasing interest.
That night the Tinker was able to tell his friends how the deliberations were going. There were a number of things under discussion: Remakkib's unauthorised actions, the authenticity of the amulet, the verification of the Zeddayah: but all these were of minor importance alongside the need to discern the truth about Rasscu. The main sticking points for the Council were that they had no first-hand proof about the identity of the Rahidor, and that if they pledged the Sarai to his service, it was likely to cost their people dearly. They wanted to be sure. They were in fact confronted by exactly the same dilemma as Remakkib himself had had to face in the Pattaka mountains, but with more serious consequences. Committing the Sarai to the possibility of war on such a scale was a hard decision and the Tinker said he could understand their hesitation.
"The only proofs they have are an amulet said to be Barrada's and the reports of men who cannot be quite sure of what they saw or heard. The Rahidor's sword is not to be drawn and the Talisman is not likely to come to life simply to answer the Council's questions."
"But they've got Rasscu here himself," Berin put in.
"So? Does he look any more than the scruffy young man who started out from Sand City? He's done a lot of bathing recently, but cleanliness is no proof of status here."
"Well, you could do some magic," Berin suggested, "or maybe Caldar could."
"It's not the time for tricks, Berin," the old man replied gently. "But don't worry. Things will work themselves out in the end."
"You sound just like Idressin in the dungeon in Karkor. It sent Sammar wild. 'I know they're just about to chop our heads off, Sammar, but if you'll just be patient, you'll see there's no need to worry.'" Berin's rendition of the tutor's most matter-of-fact tone was good enough to draw a laugh from his audience, even from Piddur.
"Mederros have no ramsa hethin," the guide commented piously.
"Yes," the Tinker said slowly, measuring the Sarab with a thoughtful glance. "I forecast many interesting years ahead as your two races learn to 'cooperate'."
"Alright", Berin persisted. "No magic. Then what are they going to decide?"
"Ask Remakkib," the Tinker said evasively. "He's been in all the meetings."
"I don't know, Berin," Remakkib replied at once. "For myself I have no doubts. Only one outcome is possible. But if the Council does not agree, it will divide the Sarai and that will be a sad day for us all."
There were two surprises in store for them the next morning. The audience had grown to nearer three thousand; the rumour that a new Rahidor might soon be declared among them had been intensified by words spoken in yesterday's meeting and people were abandoning their fields to come and watch. And Berin and Tariska were asked into the meeting to be questioned by the Council members.
"They're quite a daunting bunch," Berin commented to Caldar at midday as they sat on the terrace munching fruit. "Particularly that really old guy there with the yellow shimsak."
Tariska gave a little shudder. "Eyes like a lizard. You know, no expression in them at all. They just stare at you without blinking." She looked across at Idressin and added hesitantly, "There's something else about him too. He hates Rass, and Caldar as well, I can feel it."
Idressin nodded at her, but made no comment. So Berin shrugged and went on lightly, "Anyway, Rass, we did our best for you. We both said what an exceptional cart-driver you were and how smart you were to pretend to be wounded...". The youth ducked under the apple core which flew over his head and hit Caldar behind him.
"Children, children," Idressin said reprovingly. "Don't take your frustrations out on your friends. Throw your apple cores at the old sticks down there."
"I rather thought you approved of the Sarai," Caldar said questioningly.
"Well, they have a lot of virtues that it would be nice to find in other races, I'll admit. They've held themselves together and survived in a very hostile place by setting up a strict code of behaviour. It's worked well for them, but every plus has a minus. The minus for them in this case has been rigidity. Trying to shift a pattern that's been fixed for well over a thousand years is almost impossible."
"Remakkib's not rigid."
"He's an exception. That old man with the yellow turban is the leading religious authority for all the tribes, the Ferezzin. He did his best to prevent the Sarai from coming to help us escape from Karkor. Now we're expecting him to turn everything that he's been taught, and that he himself has taught, on its head. Sadly it’s the rule, religions turn to stone and stop up their own lifeblood. Up till now you've only met the young men with Remakkib, who welcome the adventure and glory implicit in fighting for the new Rahidor, and the isolated people of the outlying bhereths, who accepted Caldar as a Zeddayah in simple faith. Here it's different. These leaders have responsibility and power among their own people. Vision is clouded by a thousand concerns and a hundred layers of self-deceit."
"You make the outlook sound very gloomy, Idressin," Rasscu remarked.
"No, no, Rass, I'm just giving you the reasons why you should throw your apple-cores down there instead of at us."
Caldar was summoned that afternoon and he too found himself the object of the unwinking scrutiny of 'lizard eyes'. He was accorded a guarded respect. He might be a Zeddayah after all; but the Council members were a far cry from the simple folk of the bhereths or from Remakkib's eager young warriors, and they were reserving their judgement. With the Tinker as interpreter, he was asked almost entirely about Rasscu, in particular about the incident with Barrada. The amulet was passed from hand to hand and examined at great length.
He could read little from the faces before him and could not understand the discussion which criss-crossed around him. There were two younger men in the circle and one woman with a strange ageless face. The rest were distinctly old, but without exception they appeared to be sharp enough of eye and wit. All of them, even the younger members, evidently deferred to the man in the yellow shimsak.
They ate the evening meal without Remakkib and the Tinker, who had gone to a meeting elsewhere in the doukha. Sha'aha and her husband were delightful hosts who did their best to lighten the mood of the party with stories about their children and about Sarai life. But the younger of their guests were becoming uneasy at this unexpected setback, and after the excitement of the last months they were also getting bored.
The crowd was twice as large again the next day, many having to stand on the grassy bank at the back. In the morning it was Rasscu's turn to be questioned, and then all afternoon the Council deliberated among themselves. The debate was clearly heated at times and ripples of comment spread out among the audience from the more violent exchanges.
It was mid-evening before Remakkib came over, grave of face, to summon Rasscu, Caldar and the Tinker back to the Council. The crowd, now overflowing the meeting place on every side, was silent, sensing that the outcome was about to be declared. The man in the yellow shimsak, whose name was Samd D'Eher, made a statement first in a flat hard voice. Then an old man with a long white beard rose to do the talking, giving the Tinker time to translate every few sentences. The gist of it was that they had examined all the available evidence and were unable to agree, first over the claim made about Rasscu and therefore also over what course they should now follow.
The Tears of Sisme Page 83