Justice for the debt
That cannot be paid.
The only debt that can never be repaid.
So we wander,
Forever we wander.
Among rocks and stones
Can be our only home.
The cold stars are our shelter,
And in lifeless clay must we toil.
Forever.
River’s ebb
River’s flow
Is our penance.
(From the Book of Shadow).
“What a depressing poem!” Cat cried after a brief pause. “Are all the stories in the Book of Shadow as morbid as these? By the way, how can you tell which story is in which book if they all just have a white allig – I mean crocodile – on the cover?”
Patron looked disconcerted. “What do you mean how? Of course we know.”
“That’s convenient for you, my dear,” Cat said brightly, “but how will I know? What if I am feeling in a morbid mood one evening, and can’t wait to dive into one of these gloomy stories, should I just pick one and hope for the best?”
Patron let out one of her voluble laughs. “You will learn,” she nodded. “If you want to, you will learn where the stories are–”
“Yes, but wouldn’t it be so much easier if the book had a title? That’s what a title is for, after all, to let you know what you’re looking for without having to read the whole darn book.”
“What a clever idea!” Patron said sarcastically. “Why don’t you tell Shadow when you meet?”
“Perhaps I shall,” Cat nodded primly. “Now, getting back to the story you just read us: it was a bit maudlin, wouldn’t you agree?”
Patron shook her head. “I don’t know that it’s depressing. It’s how the White Islanders view the world: through a prism of grief and guilt. It certainly wouldn’t be my choice, but all the stories in the Book of Shadow are not depressing. In fact, I don’t find Evening Song at all depressing,” she added defensively.
“I am not familiar with Evening Song,” Bruce said. “I have not read it yet. Roland, I believe you have?”
Father Griffith replied in the affirmative. “It’s right there,” he said pointing to the glass display case in the middle of the room. “But this one you just read certainly is sad,” Father Griffith continued, addressing Patron. “You say they still bear this guilt? That cannot be healthy for their community. But what is their history? Where did they come from? Why do they live on those islands and how long have they been there? I pity them,” he added, more to himself.
“I don’t know how true the poem is, mind you,” Patron warned.
“That is naturally so,” Father Griffith agreed, inclining his head. “I suspect the importance of the story lies, not in the verifiability of the events, but rather in its emotional impact. It is so often the case.”
“Yes, I agree…”
Patron explained that their history indicated that they came from the arid lands east of Pera. The land is not quite a desert, but close: hard tundra.
“Whether it was, at some distant time, verdant and fertile as the story says, I cannot say. Whether they came from another place prior to that, again I do not know. Perhaps there was a drought as the story suggests, perhaps their land became uninhabitable through human intervention – it can happen, I am told – or some other catastrophe drove them away, I don’t know.
“They are a secretive lot, and the history we have – at least as far as I know, and obviously this is not my area of expertise – suggests that a small group broke away some hundred years ago and migrated to Pera. Most lived on the mainland. They were not – at least, the group that tried to settle in Pera – easily assimilated into the culture. They tended to be uneducated and closed-in as a community. As a result they ended up living in unsettled housing on the edge of the city and eked out a living doing menial labor and construction work. They also practiced a particularly self-sacrificing, ascetic tradition called the Firmament–
“Anyway, getting back to the White Islanders… A small group had originally settled on the islands at the entrance of the mouth of the Marble Sea, within spitting distance of the Light Veil, as a matter of fact. The islands are so named for the white clay-like rock that is found there. They use it exclusively to build.
“The group that settled on the mainland, locally known as the ‘steppers’, tended to be short and stocky, with dark hair and eyes. The other group that settled on the islands have very different physical characteristics to the steppers: they are tall as a rule, fair complexioned, with green or hazel eyes, and very dark hair.
They supposedly belonged to the same set of traditions – the Firmament – that I mentioned earlier. These islanders were – still are – remarkable in many ways, not the least of which is that they are, almost entirely, composed of highly-skilled engineers and astronomers – I mean the men of course,” Patron added quickly. “Their women are rarely seen and most certainly rarely engage in professional activities.
“I know both groups–” Patron continued, shaking her head thoughtfully, “and I can tell you that they bear no resemblance to each other – even physically. The ‘steppers’, were, and still are, to my knowledge, largely illiterate and generally congregated in groups on the outskirts of Pera where they practiced their traditions, which, frankly, upset the local residents.”
“Why? What did they do?” Father Griffith asked.
Patron shook her head. “They were different… And people did not trust them. I felt the same, I admit,” she added introspectively.
“But what did they do to deserve this censure?” Father Griffith insisted.
“They didn’t mix with the population, for one thing,” Patron replied. “That’s a bad sign to send to people in whose city you want to live.”
“Perhaps they were not welcome,” Father Griffith suggested. “I mean the community may not have made them feel welcomed. They were probably insecure and resentful, and felt excluded in an alien place.”
“Who cares?” Patron retorted. “They should have brought a welcoming attitude with them. They were the visitors. Absurd!”
“I see your point,” Father Griffith said mildly, “but hospitality surely decrees that we open our homes to the stranger, whoever he is, wherever he is from. He should not be driven out by fear and distrust, because distrust only breeds further distrust and contempt. Only trust and goodwill can create harmony and peace among peoples. As you said, if people expect others to act with integrity, it will likely happen.”
Patron eyed him narrowly. “Hmph! Well they didn’t. I saw it firsthand! By your logic, we should do away with the Light Veil altogether and let all and sundry in to rape and pillage our light trees and our community as they wish!” she bristled.
“I understand,” Cat interjected gently. “I do, Patron. And I agree.” She nodded gravely. Her words had a soothing effect on Patron.
“Yes, well… good,” said the pirate gruffly.
“Pera is precious for you. You should protect it. Protect it from those who might want to cause it harm. I understand…” Cat continued. “I should do the same,” she added.
“Sensible.” Patron grinned.
“I did not mean to offend you, Patron,” Father Griffith said. “I was trying to see the world from the islanders’ point of view; not to criticize the people of Pera.”
“Understood,” Patron said, mollified. “I see what you mean in a way,” she added in the spirit of rapprochement. “And I have nothing against strangers coming to Pera. Lots of people visit and settle in Pera every year. It’s wonderful. It would be terribly boring to see the same people all the time! I owe most of my accessories to the non-Pera born–” she laughed raucously.
“But the truth is that the islanders did not make themselves loved and accepted in Pera. It wasn’t just their insularity…” Patron continued in a subdued tone. “There were two major events. The first was the River Ritual…” She removed a small volume from the lowest shelf behind her.
The Awakening
It is a melody… at dawn.
It is a song from the Moon.
I know it before I awaken…
For I hear the melody in a dream.
It smells like the morning.
It smells like the dawn…
I hear it this morning.
For
the first time this morning. For the
first time
At dawn. It smells of the Sun. It sings like the Moon.
I gaze into the world
I gaze at your arms… delicate, gentle brown arms…
I know this at dawn…
I know this; I know. The world has awakened.
Smelling of dawn…
Singing like the Moon
Dressed like a star…
Your dress is made of lace
Pink, white and a hint of blue…
A melody of lace
And its song is true…
The world has awakened…
Smelling of dawn.
And your arms are no longer bare
They are
Dressed like a star
And you’re singing like the Moon…
(From the Book of Shadow)
“The first bloom of the light tree heralds the end of the dormant season and the start of the new…It is called the Awakening. It is a day of celebration throughout Pera: the Festival of the Awakening.
“That fragile, transparent little flower heralds new life for Pera. They cover the dark light trees in shimmering pink and white, with an ephemeral hint of blue for the Moonlight varieties. The light tree is special: it fuels Pera. It also lights up the night sky and muffles the frigid dormant season. The light tree is vital.”
“So what did they do?” Cat asked. “The White Islanders: what did they do? Obviously they did something terrible.” Her voice held a note of foreboding.
“You are right,” Patron said, “it was terrible. It was worse than terrible. It was… possibly the worst thing a Peran could imagine.”
“People set up watch around the light trees to catch the first scent of the Awakening. The light tree bloom does have a scent. It is soft and sweet like a gentle, early morning breeze. The light farms are protected and patrolled day and night, but there are light trees everywhere since the light birds drop the digested seed as they fly. As the end of the dormant season approaches, people keep a close watch over the neighborhood light trees. The first bloom, which opens just before dawn, is announced throughout the streets, and the spontaneous festival erupts. It can never be planned properly, and Perans prefer it this way. Festival day is announced at dawn. It’s a holiday.
“One year, the day after festival day, shortly after dawn, two children excitedly went to check on the blooms on their adopted light tree. It was a young tree: three years old. Not old enough to give much fruit yet. It was still short – the branches were barely as tall as me–” Patron indicated the height of the tree. “The light bird had dropped the seed at the edge of a park overlooking the Ortasu.
“As the children walked through the park, they heard voices, and saw that a group of young men were congregated around the tree–” Patron gulped.
“It’s all right now,” Orion said in a soothing voice, noticing her distress. “It’s all right.”
“What happened?” Cat asked sharply.
Patron shook her head, unable to speak.
Orion took a deep breath. “The two kids saw a bunch of guys ripping off the few flowers that the tree had managed to produce. They were ripping them, and the small branches along with the flowers, and throwing them towards the water–”
“That’s horrible!” Cat’s hand flew to her mouth. “Why?”
Patron breathed hard, her fists clenched. “They wanted to stop the land from waking up!”
“That’s what the islanders said later,” Orion explained. “At the time, after the two kids had run screaming from the scene of what, to them, was nothing short of brutal murder–”
“It was murder,” Patron said indignantly. “And they got what they deserved!”
Orion nodded. “Oh yes, the good citizens of Pera made quite sure that the outrage was never repeated, and the perpetrators were … punished,” he added with a self-satisfied smile. “I couldn’t have done it better myself.”
“That’s the River Ritual?” Father Griffith asked, astonished. “Destroying the first bloom of spring? What on earth for?”
“Fiona Manx says they have their unique culture and traditions,” Patron said in a nasty monotone. “I say they can stuff their culture and traditions up where the Sun can’t shine.” She grinned. “I’ll help, too.”
Father Griffith turned to Orion. “Please explain,” he demanded. “I don’t understand.”
“All I know is that they think they need to stop the land from waking up because the Land should be in perpetual slumber. Punishment for its transgression as told in Evening Song.”
“But the tree–” Cat looked from Patron to Orion with a worried expression. “What happened to the tree?”
Patron smiled kindly. “It’s fine now. It bloomed that year and every year thereafter. The tree is fine.”
“Good,” Cat sighed, relieved. “We had orange trees in our garden growing up… I know what it means to love a tree. I picked their fruit and played on their branches with my brother and sister. They were my friends when I was a child. And I cried like a baby when one of them was destroyed in a windstorm.
“I am glad that young tree was unharmed…”
“After the River Ritual, the islanders could never be welcome in Pera,” Patron said, addressing Father Griffith. “I don’t know if you can understand that. The light tree is Pera’s Life. It doesn’t matter who you are, what you believe, where you’re from…you can’t hurt the light tree and expect to survive in Pera. It’s that simple.”
Father Griffith bowed his head. “I understand.”
“They left Pera after the ritual,” Patron continued. “Truthfully, they didn’t have a choice at that point, but I think they preferred to go. They felt they did not belong in Pera. They chose the White Islands to settle, thinking, I suppose, that they would feel more at home among people who shared the same tradition – the Firmament–” she paused. “Well, the Justices did object,” she conceded. “The Justices hold an important position in Pera. They apparently thought that exiling these awful people might create more trouble in the future by completing the isolation of a group that already felt excluded. They said it was dangerous!” Patron snorted. “Staying in Pera would have been far more dangerous – I mean for the islanders,” she added ominously.
“The Justices were wise, perhaps,” Father Griffith ventured hesitantly, aware of the emotional minefield he was entering. “I don’t mean to imply in any way that what the islanders – the steppers – did was not absolutely deplorable–” he added hastily. “I simply meant – well,” he mused, shaking his head gently, “the Justices seem very learned and had the best of intentions... Didn’t anyone listen to them? From the way you’ve described the Justices, it would seem that their warnings would be heeded.”
“Normally, yes,” Patron said. “But there was rage in Pera at that time. Rage is not rational. It does not listen, even to the Justices. Pera had to protect its light trees, you see. I don’t think it would have been possible at that time to do anything other than to banish these people. And quite honestly, the Justices did not persist in their warnings. They understood … I know; I am sure they felt the same anger. They – well, they made a statement underlining the importance, the inviolability of the light tree in Pera.
“You see, the light tree didn’t mean anything to these people!” Patron snorted. “They are still the only community that does not grow light trees: the White Islanders. Granted, not much can grow among all that rock, anyway, but they don’t even try. While some of them lived on the mainland, they of course owned one tree per citizen. That was one of the major points of contention, as a matter
of fact. They were given a tree each, but even before the horrible River Ritual, there was tension because the islanders refused to tend to the trees. It’s part of a neighborhood’s primary duties, you know. But they didn’t go anywhere near the trees. Didn’t believe in them or some such nonsense!”
“How awful!” Cat cried. “I should have been very angry!”
“Anyway… that was about thirty – no close to forty years ago, I would say…”
“How do they make a living now on the islands?” Father Griffith asked. “You said they are engineers and astronomers. And how do they live? What do they use for fuel?”
“They import whatever they need,” Patron said. “The islands use the lightberry mostly, but also natural gas, which exists in small quantities in Pera.”
“Do they practice their trade on the islands or do they venture to the mainland too?” Father Griffith wanted to know.
“Well, some of them work on the mainland too,” Patron replied. “At first it was only the original islanders. The steppers who had been banished could not safely venture onto the mainland for a good many years.
“The islanders – and I mean that to differentiate them from the steppers, although at this point they have mixed quite a bit – were great engineers, so they were often hired to build and design in Pera. Some of their work is breathtaking. You’ll see the House of Light and Dark…” Patron paused, wearing a faraway half-smile that softened the grooves of her face.
“Do you want to tell them about the Cypress Ritual? It might be a good time now,” Orion prompted. Patron grew solemn. “It is never a good time,” she said quietly, and with something in her voice that made Cat flinch. “What’s the Cypress Ritual?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.
Father Griffith swallowed. Why, father? What have I done? he heard in a dimly-lit, frightened corner of his mind.
What is this? What is the Cypress Ritual? he wondered…
“We found out about the Cypress Ritual a few years after they had left for the islands,” Patron sighed. “The fishermen had talked about it for years, but people didn’t believe it. Honestly, I think it was partly that people did not care. The islanders were gone, and the fishermen’s rumors were just that: tall tales, as tall as the fish they claimed to have caught. Who could possibly imagine such a thing? And there was guilt, too, possibly, if it were true…
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