by Nat Burns
The door sprang open and a monstrosity stepped into the cottage. It resembled a woman, a Mother, true, but she had a square metal cage around her head and wore strange metal circles over her eyes. One of the circles had a strange contraption attached to it. Her clothing was loose and flowing but was made up of long, thin strips of metal, punched with holes and woven together with flaxen thread. The thread had been dyed with berry juice so was a deep red in color. The metal was polished to a high sheen and caught the sunlight well.
The woman was followed by a trio of Meab servants. One helped lift the excess of the obviously heavy garment she wore as the others hovered expectantly, all the while studying and shaking the inactive machines they held in their hands. One spoke into one of the machines then shook it when he received no response after a few seconds.
“Hello?” I offered.
“Hello,” she said imperiously. “I am Dot of Prosee join. I understand that you have called up a Diarmin?”
I nodded shortly. “And if I did?”
“I need to speak with it, see it. Where is it?” She studied the room, the strange machine on her eyes whirring laboriously as it moved. “I don’t see it.”
“Why do you need to speak with it?”
She stared at me, a look of disgusted tolerance curling her lip. “Do you not realize what that...that...creature has done to our clan?”
I played dumb. “What has happened?”
Dot shook her head, sending out a tinkle sound of metal connecting on metal. “You know very well that your...interference has caused our technology to cease functioning. Our village has come to a standstill. I need your Diarmin to set things right again.”
Avapeony pushed in front of me. “Yes, take it, please. Make it fix everything for you.”
Dot lifted her chin. “Bring it to me. I will make it do my bidding.”
“It won’t work,” I said absently as I took a seat at the table. I crossed my legs and adjusted my tunic to cover my knees.
“Why?” Dot said, aggravation in her tone.
“It was my summon. It will only obey my will,” I answered.
Silence fell as Dot and Avapeony pondered this truth.
Dot approached the table and tapped one metal shod fingertip on the wooden boards. “You will tell him to obey me, to come to the citadel with me and restore our lights and the lightning that drives our tools and machines.”
I lowered my chin, thinking about how bad—and wonderful—it would be to refuse to re-power the Brinc village. Preventing Occil from restoring the Brinc technology would certainly solve a lot of the problems currently facing the Mothers.
“Dot Prosee,” I said finally, keeping my voice low and even. “Are you aware of what your technology has cost our clan? Me, especially?”
Dot made a dismissive sound with her lips. “Yes, yes, I have already apologized to all the Witta Mothers. We are trying to form a new treaty that will be amenable to both clans of Meab. By allowing this Diarmin to interfere, you have violated the first precepts of the treaty. Unless you bid your creature to my will, the ramifications could be severe.”
“Severe?” Avapeony questioned.
“War,” Dot said dramatically. She turned to me. “Is that what you want for your people, Widdershin?”
“Of course not!” I said bitterly, leaping to my feet. “But coming into our forest and killing innocent Meab, one a Mother, abducting a young girl from her home...these are the actions that incite war. You are fortunate that the Mothers entertain anything you might say in your defense. There is no defense. What Signe Ray did was wrong, plain and simple. Now, I am deprived of my join and my companion as I pass through various aspects of my wit.”
I heard Avapeony gasp at my challenge of a Mother, but there was no way I could stop now.
“Suppose you had been deprived of the Mother of Prosee join as you grew? Would you have been so eager to defend those who took her life? Oh, wait. You now have your machines to guide your decisions, machines to teach you, machines to hold you when you need someone to hold you.” I paused and chose my next words carefully. “You have machines so that you will be distracted, so you won’t see that the magic has left your lives.”
Dot’s eyes grew wide as my words reached her. “How dare you speak to me like this? You...you mindless little atrebud. You Witta play at being wit with your silly practice games, spending centuries learning archaic workings, unimportant lore. Our machines take us there and beyond before even one century has passed. Don’t you speak about things you can’t even possibly understand.”
I studied Dot’s angry features, as well as the terrified faces of her attendants. All I could feel was an overwhelming sadness for all of them.
“Dot, I can’t help the way I feel. And I ask you, if the machines speed up your achievement of ken in such a way, what shall you do with the rest of your time here, during the centuries that you will walk on Mother Earth?”
Dot’s hand crept to her throat and she fiddled with the collar of her metal robe. Her mouth worked but no sound came forth until she cleared her throat and tried again. “Just bring that evil creature to the citadel by dark tomorrow. If you fail to comply, you shall feel the bitter ire of our soldiers. You shall quake under their anger.”
She turned and passed from the cottage, the harsh scent of metal wafting through the room.
Book Twenty-one
THE GAUNTLET HAD been dropped. Avapeony and I stared at one another in shock.
“Ava?” Ronat entered the room, cautiously so as not to encounter Occil right away. “What was that about?”
“It was Brinc, my love. They wish me to restore their technology,” Occil said, stepping out from behind the mass of tangled vines where it had been hiding.
“You have to,” Avapeony said. “Our peoples cannot war. There has been no fighting in our lands for thousands of centuries. We cannot be responsible for causing war.”
“What care I?” the Diarmin said with some annoyance.
I sat down and stared at the Diarmin. “Care? Why should you care? It’s not your battle.”
I caught Occil off guard by agreeing with it. Eyeing me guardedly, it moved closer. “That is correct. The outcome will not affect me.”
“But it will me. And Avapeony. And Cleome. And all the rest of the Meab,” Ronat said angrily. “You are a selfish beast, aren’t you?”
A visage of horror plastered the Diarmin’s face. “Oh, no, no, no. You mustn’t think ill of me, love. It was a momentary lapse in judgement. Of course I will do anything you ask of me. Anything to make you happy.”
“The Meab are a strong people,” I mused. “Gather. We will work this out. There has to be a way. We will talk it through.”
“I’ll make tea,” Avapeony said, moving toward the hearth.
“And Aria Song brought rice cakes. I’ll get them,” Ronat said.
Moments later, we were seated calmly around the worktable, sipping green tea. I studied Occil, my sister and my sister’s love with a fond eye. This was, for all practical purposes, my new join. The Diarmin was temporary, true, but for the moment, it was with us.
“I am having a hard time deciding what is our best course of action now. Part of me wants to prevent the Brinc clan from regaining their machines. It would be best for all the Meab, in the long run. However, it is not our place to control what another clan wishes to do. The Wittta are not about dictating to others how they should act. It is not our way.”
Occil pulled Avapeony’s wooden mug close and proceeded to splash the hot tea on his face. Avapeony watched in horror. “I agree,” she said, coughing. “But I have to say, the Brinc joins are obsessed with their machines. I saw evidence of it, even held captive as I was.”
“I can attest to that fact. Magic is no longer a way of life for my clan. They have become completely dependent on technology for their very livelihood,” Ronat confirmed.
“And it’s not working that well for them, is it?” I asked.
She shook her
head and her fingers teased at a half-eaten rice cake. “No. Our fammies are sickly, we have no food, very little water.” She sighed. “It seems the games and excitement provided by the machines are everything to my people. Nothing else matters.”
“And yet you escaped this. I’m not sure why,” Avapeony said, shaking her head. She reached out and grasped Ronat’s hand. Kes moved to Purth and the two mingled.
“Hey! Hey!” Occil pushed Avapeony’s hand away.
Ronat blew out a loud breath of air and leaned back, away from the table edge.
I ignored the Diarmin’s bad behavior. “I witnessed these conditions during the short time I was there. I can’t say I understand why your joins should choose to live that way but, again, Witta cannot decide how Brinc should live. The problem now is that, thanks to our friend here,” I indicated the Diarmin, “The technology that they love has gone away. Dot of Prosee join insists that I bring Occil to the citadel by tomorrow at sundown. I’m to order him to return power to all their machines.”
“And you’re having trouble doing that, aren’t you?” Yewsy said as she stepped into the cottage.
“I am,” I admitted. “How is Mint?”
“She’s fine although she misses our Mother.” She grew pensive and pulled a seat to the table. “We all do.”
I patted her hand as she made comical faces to Occil. The Diarmin grinned and mimed back.
“What would you do, Yews? Would you nudge Brinc back to their wit?” I asked gently.
“Not if it isn’t what they want. I think that your little imp needs to reinstate the technology there.”
“How can you justify that though? After what they did to us?” Avapeony asked her. “Surely they will get even more bold and intimidating as time passes. Once they use up their resources, they are coming for our forests. They already have.”
“Yes, it seems as though we need to protect ourselves from them. Much as the Morri already do,” Yewsy said. She rose and took a clean mug from the shelf then filled it with hot water and tea from the hearth.
“So, it’s settled? I accompany Occil back to Brinc tomorrow? Then what?” I turned and frowned at the creature. He was mooning over Ronat again. “You! You know you have to go back through the square, right?”
The Diarmin turned his attention to me. “No. I want to stay.”
“You can’t stay. Your kind was banished in antiquity. There’s no place for you here.”
“But what if ...what if,” Yewsy said. “Suppose—”
I leaned forward. “Suppose?”
She stilled, deep in thought. Ronat watched her while absently knocking aside Occil’s possessive hand. Purth tried to intercede but the Diarmin was persistent.
“We do not wish to interfere in the Brinc path that they have chosen, yet we still want to maintain our seeking of the wit path.”
“This is true,” I agreed.
“Well, suppose there was a way to keep the two clans separate. I mean, even more than they are now. With no infringement on either side,” she said thoughtfully.
Excitement stirred in me. “It’s been done before, many centuries ago. The veil!”
“Yes, yes,” Avapeony said. “That would work...if—”
“If the Brinc joins would agree,” I finished.
“They never will,” Ronat said sadly. “They need your trees.”
“Well, they can’t have them,” Yewsy said.
“I’m more concerned with how the veil could be put in place. It would have to be petitioned at the lake and which of us has the ken to do that?” I said.
“I do,” Occil said. “I am one of the designers, remember?”
“Oh, Goddess,” I breathed. I had forgotten that the Diarmin created the magical framework for the Sheadha. “Of course!”
“I thought so. Can you?” Yewsy asked.
“Can I? Of course. Will I? Hmm.” It smiled that horrible smile.
“You will,” I said firmly. “Tomorrow we will go to the citadel and you will reinstate their technology.”
Occil strode across the table and stood in front of Ronat. “Is this what you want?” it asked.
Ronat, caught off guard, didn’t answer right away.” I...I think so. I hate what is happening to them but...but they seem to have lost all magic, anything nurturing that would sustain them. So, yes. Please, return to them what they want.”
Occil turned to me. “And then you will continue to try sending me back through the square.”
I sipped my cold tea and thought about the imp. True, it had done all I asked, with very little mischief. Could it be an asset in this world?
“Tell me what you want,” I said to Occil. “What do you desire most?”
It appeared shocked that I had asked such a thing. It stood, one talon-tipped finger at the corner of its odd mouth. “What I—”
We waited patiently and I was alarmed to finally see a tear form in one of the bulbous eyes.
“I want to stay here...where there are Meab, not just Diarmin. I want to feel the day star on my face.” It looked at each of us. “You are good to me,” it whispered.
I leaned forward. “I say this, if you do our bidding this last time, reinstate the lightning and set up the veil separating our two clans, we will not send you back.”
Its face brightened and it swiped the tear away. “You won’t?”
“A few conditions,” Avapeony said quickly. “The first is that you find another love. Ronat is mine and frankly, your attentions are annoying to both of us. Secondly, you must not harm others, or even cause them any anguish. Can you do that?”
A crafty look appeared on its face momentarily, but it banished it and seemed to answer sincerely. “Enough harm has been visited on me in Endet. Mischief has lost its appeal.”
“And Ronat? You will leave her be?” Avapeony persisted.
Occil studied Ronat lovingly, then sighed and looked away. “Yes, I will release her.”
“So, we are agreed then. You will come to the Mothers with me, we get their approval, then we reinstate the Brinc technology, and afterward, you will put the veil in place,” I said.
Occil nodded and extended one tiny hand in agreement. I touched it and the seal was set.
Book Twenty-two
THE HALL OF Mothers was situated deep in the heart of Ziv Mountain. The cavern had been worn large and smooth by eons of dripping water from the genesis of the Finlo River. The eastern half of the cavern was now dry and offered a large opening to the outside. There the Mothers had set up a long, wide table made of trees, with seats for each of the twelve Mothers and the Iris, Levi, who moderated their meetings.
It was the first time I’d been there since being a very young atrebud in my Mother’s arms. Occil had transported the two of us to the entrance, and I hugged Afton close as I tried to gather enough courage to enter. I rubbed the large tigereye stone that Yewsy had pressed into my hand before we’d left.
“Don’t you want to go in?” Occil asked, looking up at me in confusion.
I set my jaw. “Yes. Of course.”
The two Iris who stood on either side of the door, greeted me with welcoming hand gestures and, smiling widely, allowed us through. They did study the Diarmin closely, however, leading me to wonder if they’d ever seen one before.
“Cleome?” MayApple rose from her chair and moved toward us. “Is everyone all right at home?”
I hastened to reassure her. “Yes, all is well. I just need to speak with all of you about an idea we’ve had.”
MayApple pulled me close and hugged me. “Of course. Come, sit with us.”
She looked at the Diarmin and nodded to it although she didn’t speak a welcome.
She led me to the head of the table then took her seat. My breath hitched when I saw my mother’s empty chair next to her.
“Someday, you’ll sit there as Mother,” Afton said, connecting.
I also noticed that Dot Prosee was absent, probably already on her way to the citadel. I cleared my throat, cau
sing the sporadic socializing to quiet. I helped Occil onto the table and a host of gasps greeted him.
“Is that...” Holly Lore began.
“This is a Diarmin I summoned to help me rescue my sister Avapeony from Signe Ray who had taken her to the Brinc citadel.
Its name is Occil,” I explained, introducing it.
Occil raised its hand. “Greetings to you.”
Many of the Mothers raised a hand in welcome.
“I see you’ve come to admit your interference,” Ani Outlie said with some malice.
I wanted to ignore her but knew to do so would be considered rude, and I did not want to hear about that, as well. “Yes, we have interfered but hopefully what we say here today will undo that interference.”
I took a seat in my mother’s empty chair and pressed my hands together. “I understand that a new treaty between Brinc and Witta clans has been hard coming to the table. At present, due to a misunderstanding, the Brinc have been left without power to operate the machines that they dearly love. It is also my understanding that the Diarmin, Occil, here before you, is the only means Brinc have of getting their machines restored quickly.”
“Yes, and you need to bid it to do so,” Isten Givan said. “Our people need those machines.”
Isten looked bad, her pale yellow hair mussed, and eyes red-rimmed. I felt compassion for her.
“I plan to,” I said. “But here is the thing. Brinc clan has been steadily encroaching on the Morri forest and one of your clan tells me that there is a plan afoot to divert water from Felshea Falls, which, of course, will upset the Neisi homes. This cannot be allowed.”
The Witta Mothers murmured among themselves, and I waited for them to quiet before continuing. “It has also been sensed that the Brinc plan to steal adult Asti from Medwas, as well, preparatory to dominating them, much as they have the Lutis.”
Protests sounded from the Brinc Mothers but the Witta Mothers quieted them with calming stares.