The Healer’s Mantle

by Leigh Roberts

  Adia reached out her hand to Nadiwani who clasped it and squeezed her friend’s fingers. Then Adia turned and left with Acaraho.

  The two walked silently through the tunnels that stretched between her quarters and the meeting room. Acaraho could sense Adia was attempting to maintain the same detached composure she had shown yesterday. For that reason, he did not speak but waited for her to initiate conversation if she wished to.

  When they arrived at the door, Acaraho stopped and waited for her to enter first. His timing was perfect; everyone was already in the room and appropriately seated as he ushered her in.

  Kurak’Kahn, the Overseer, motioned for her to sit. Adia raised her hand and shook her head, indicating she would prefer to stand. Acaraho moved to the wall, to the same place as yesterday, where he would have an unobstructed view of everyone there.

  Khon’Tor sat stiffly, as far away from Hakani as possible.

  * * *

  Kurak’Kahn began.

  “We have come to a decision regarding the disposition of your situation, Adia,” he said.

  Disposition of my situation. She rolled the words over in her mind. She tried not to read too much into them, but they sounded clinical and cold, as if her being with offspring was a medical inconvenience and not the miracle of new life; the gift of the Great Mother.

  “First of all, Khon’Tor spoke correctly yesterday. Adia, you should be commended for reaching out for our oversight. No doubt had you not, the situation would have come to our attention one way or the other. But, much like your father, you have not shied away from difficulty and instead stepped up to meet it head-on.”

  A soft start, but Adia braced herself for the rest.

  “The First and Second Laws of the People have been passed down from generation to generation. The laws reflect our values and our motivations. The First Law states that the needs of the community supersede the needs of the individual. The second of the First Laws reflects the position of honor and respect our females hold. It is through the females that new life is brought into our world; into Etera. Females embody the essence of the feminine aspect of the Great Spirit—which Healers call the Great Mother—and remind us there is nothing more important or more powerful than love. The third of the First Laws requires us to show forbearance for each other’s failings,” he said, pausing before continuing.

  “The Second Laws guide the execution of the overseeing roles within the community. It is these laws which state that a Leader may choose his mate and that the Healer may not be paired nor bear offspring. Though we do not recognize a hierarchy of the laws, when there has been a violation, we do consider them all,” he continued, setting the stage for what was to come next.

  “Adia Adoeete,” he addressed her, for the second time in a row honoring her with the formal title of Great Leader. “You are revered among not only your people, the People of the High Rocks, but throughout all the adjoining communities. Your actions affect not only your people, but those of us all. For that reason, your failure in this regard has more far-reaching consequences than among the People of the High Rocks,”

  Adia’s emotions rose and fell with his statements, which on the one hand seemed to be praising her, and then on the next admonishing her.

  “You, as a Healer, are obliged to uphold the First and Second Laws and to conduct yourself with the highest level of honor possible. You have failed in this regard, bringing risk to yourself, as well as the potential and devastating loss of a great Healer,” he continued.

  Acaraho clenched his jaws and tightened one fist behind his back.

  “However,” continued the Overseer.

  Adia’s heart leapt; there was a however?

  “However,” he repeated, “As members of the High Council we have an even greater responsibility to uphold the laws of the People. Just as your actions have far-reaching consequences, so do ours, only more so.

  “As Khon’Tor said yesterday, there is not one of us who has not suffered consequences from a lapse in good judgment. There is not one of us who does not deserve judgment under the laws. Your record of service has been exemplary. We recognize your regret over the situation, and that you admit you have failed to live up to the restrictions placed upon your position—restrictions put in place for your own welfare as well as that of the People. The loss of a Healer is disastrous—and especially one of your caliber.”

  “I have said there is not one of us who does not deserve judgment for breaking the laws. And there are few of us who do not deserve mercy. The First Laws remind us to show forbearance for each other’s failings. It is our role as members of the High Council to determine when to apply which—justice or mercy.”

  “Adia of the People of the High Rocks, you have broken one of the most important of the laws of the People. You stand before us repentant yet defiant, in that you refuse to disclose the name of the father of your offspring. We cannot force you to, but we must state that his cowardice in not standing with you does not speak well of your choice in mating. It is our hope that in time, he will come forward and bear with you the burden in which he shares equal responsibility.”

  Adia kept her eyes fixed on the Overseer just as she had yesterday, lest she betray Khon’Tor with even the quickest of glances in his direction.

  She noticed the Overseer’s voice softened just the slightest bit as he continued, “Adia, your services as Healer are critical to the welfare of the People. We would be negligent not to recognize the risk presented by your being with offspring.

  When we leave here, we will make arrangements to locate an experienced Healer who can come to tend to you from now on and be present for your offspring’s delivery. It will have to be someone close enough to return to her people if the need should suddenly arise. And that Healer’s Helper must be highly skilled and able to fill in for her absence in all but the direst of circumstances. When we have made our selection, we will send word to the High Protector Acaraho, that he may make preparations for her arrival.”

  As he mentioned Acaraho’s name, Kurak’Kahn looked over at him, and Acaraho nodded his acceptance of the responsibility.

  “As to the matter of justice versus mercy, the members of the High Council have determined that as you stand before us alone, we do not accept the right to impose any penalty on you. We refuse to acknowledge any fault on your behalf in this matter since the father of your offspring—who should share equally in your burden—does not have the courage to come forward,” said Kurak’Kahn.

  If Adia had heard correctly, they were not going to impose a penalty on her. The fact that she had to stand here and bear the burden of her situation on her own had softened their hearts in the matter.

  “I speak now as a male and not as the Overseer of the High Council,” said Kurak’Kahn with iron in his voice.

  “Whoever is the father of your offspring, I wish he were in this room so that I could admonish him man-to-man for his gutlessness. Whatever the cost to him in admitting his part, he has burdened you with bearing in his stead. And not only that, he has selfishly put your life at risk. It is well known that your mother died while birthing you.”

  It was not lost on Adia that Kurak’Kahn had stepped outside of his role as Overseer. It was unprecedented, and she interpreted that it underscored the distaste he felt for the situation into which a male had put Adia.

  Kurak’Kahn continued again, with some softness returning to his voice.

  “Unfortunately for you, Adia, a male who will take the pleasure of seeding an offspring but avoid his responsibility for it, will neither show up to father it—nor share the burden of providing for it. This leaves us in an untenable situation. Though we will not pass judgment on you, we must deal with the realities of the situation.”

  “Hakani, Second Rank to the People of the High Rocks, and mate to Khon’Tor, stood up yesterday and informed us you were already raising one offspring—the Waschini you rescued. The laws remove a Healer’s right to pair or produce offspring for the physical risk it pres
ents to her, but also in recognition of the responsibilities that come with raising offspring. The Healer is meant to be dedicated solely to the wellbeing and needs of her people. The Waschini offspring is already established in your life, and we do not have the heart to force you to give it up. However, we cannot allow your energies and focus to be further divided by adding the responsibilities of yet another offspring.”

  “Therefore, it is the determination of the High Council in this matter, that you, Adia, must surrender the care of one of these offspring to another female. We will not make the choice for you, but you must choose. You must give up either the Waschini offspring or the offspring you carry now,” he stated.

  Had this been a general assembly of the People, chaos would have broken out. The room would have been filled with chatter and gasps and heightened disbelief at what they had just heard. Instead, everyone in the room froze, including Adia.

  Adia’s blood ran cold. Had Kurak’Kahn just said what she thought he had? Must she give up one of the offspring? Either Oh’Dar or this one she carried now? Give up to whom? And when was she expected to make this impossible decision?

  “Kurak’Kahn, please. I do not understand,” she stammered, her composure starting to crumble under the felling blow the Overseer had just delivered.

  “Adia, it is to your credit that you have been able to discharge your duties as Healer while saddled with the care of one offspring. No doubt, the support of the other females has gone a long way toward enabling you to that end. However, despite their help, the responsibilities of raising two offspring would be too much. Therefore, it is the decision of the High Council that you must surrender one of your offspring to another female of the People.

  In recognition of the difficulty of this situation, we will let the offspring remain among the People of the High Rocks where at least you will have knowledge of its care and its wellbeing. Be aware this is a compromise on our part; we could have decided the offspring should be removed to another community entirely,” he added.

  She heard him. Essentially, she must take the deal because they could make it even harder on her.

  Acaraho’s eyes were glued on Adia as she swayed the slightest bit on her feet.

  “When am I expected to decide? When do you expect me to decide which of my offspring I will give up?” she said, pressing a hand to her forehead.

  “We recognize this is hard on you, Adia. And we find difficult decisions are not any easier made later as opposed to sooner. We ask you to decide before us now. We will give you a moment to collect your thoughts before you choose,” said Kurak’Kahn.

  It was all Adia could do not to cry. She felt herself weaving and was afraid she would pass out in front of them. They said they would not administer punishment, but what is this? I must give up one of my offspring—either Oh’Dar, the frail and disadvantaged Waschini offspring, or the one I carry within me? Blood of my blood? Regardless of who the father is, this is my offspring, my direct offspring; a blessing denied to all Healers.

  * * *

  While all this was taking place, Hakani’s mental wheels had been turning. She had not recovered from Khon’Tor’s ongoing denigration of her. Trapped within their quarters, she did not have the fortitude to oppose or defy him, but this situation was different. Just as she had found the strength to stand up yesterday and tell them about the Waschini offspring, she could not resist the opportunity presented before her now to make Adia suffer even more.

  Before she could lose her nerve, Hakani stood up, stepped forward, and turned to address the High Council again. She could see Khon’Tor looking at her, aghast.

  Oh, I know I will pay for this later, perhaps dearly, but I am not going to pass up the chance to deal her another blow. Brace yourself, Healer. I am not done with you yet.

  “Kurak’Kahn,” she said boldly and loudly so there would be no mistake, “I, Hakani, Third Rank and mate to Khon’Tor, Leader of the People of the High Rocks, I claim the right to whichever offspring she relinquishes.”

  Hakani did not dare look over at Khon’Tor, knowing he would be incensed. And she knew he would take this out on her later, most likely as painfully and as slowly as possible. But no one could make her withdraw her claim, and no matter how angry he was, Khon’Tor would not do her any serious bodily harm considering there were so many eyes on the situation. No matter what she had to endure later, the offspring—whichever offspring—would be a priceless tool through which to torture both her mate and the Healer.

  Decorum shattered and the High Council members turned and looked at each other, then at Khon’Tor, then at Adia, and then back to Hakani.

  Adia’s hand flew to her mouth in disbelief.

  “No!” said Adia, marching toward the council table. “You said it would be my choice!”

  Kurak’Kahn replied, “I said that which offspring you gave up would be your choice. We did not say that who took the offspring would be your choice. Hakani is within her rights to claim the offspring.”

  Adia knew what Kurak’Kahn said was true. In the rare situation where an offspring was orphaned, the other females of the community had a right to put claim to the offspring. Ordinarily, there were always a few who stepped up, though never the mate of the Leader—but it was within her right.

  * * *

  What? thought Khon’Tor, Hakani has just laid claim to the offspring I seeded in Adia? I will need the protection of all Acaraho’s guards should Hakani find out the offspring is mine!

  It had taken all he had not to fly to his feet when she first spoke, but he had contained himself. However, now Khon’Tor stood. He walked over to his mate, took her arm, and turned her to face him.

  “Hakani, what are you doing?” he spoke bluntly.

  “I have lost our offspring, Khon’Tor,” she said, patting her stomach and lying unabashedly in front of the High Council. “I deserve a chance to have another.”

  “Hakani,” he continued, also lying, “This offspring is not heir to my leadership. It is my expectation that in time you will bear me offspring and have those to raise,” he said.

  “I have every intention of doing so, Khon’Tor. I understand that neither of whichever offspring she relinquishes will satisfy the requirement for an offspring of yours. But I do not remove my claim.” And, shored up by the presence of others in the room and her hatred of Adia, she stood her ground.

  It was within Hakani’s rights, and no one had the authority to repudiate or force her to withdraw her claim. Since the matter was being considered before the High Council and not before the local community, there were no other females present to lay claim, and so Hakani’s stood by default.

  Adia was having trouble standing. Acaraho could see she was faltering. He stepped forward and addressed the High Council. “High Council members. Clearly, this is an extraordinary situation, and the stress on everyone here is very high. Could we take a brief recess to let emotions settle before we continue?”

  “Alright, Commander. You make a fair point. Anyone who wishes to leave the room may do so; however, I ask the High Council members to remain. Please do not be gone more than the minimal time any of you might need,” agreed Kurak’Kahn.

  Acaraho stood, waiting for Adia. She remained in her position a moment and then finally went out into the hallway. Acaraho did not follow her, realizing it would be improper, and there would be no reason for it unless their relationship was closer than currently understood to be.

  Adia walked down the hallway far enough almost to reach the guards posted there. She wished she could be utterly alone, but at least the guard had the presence of mind to turn his back to her—not out of disrespect but to give her some privacy.

  I expected punishment, but then it looked like they were showing me mercy. But to have to give up one of my offspring, and to Hakani who hates me? How is this anything but punishment? Oh, Great Mother, please let this be a bad dream from which I will wake at any moment.

  My father’s words are coming back to me; I must balance
the leadings of my heart with reason. I need to try to think this through logically because the future of two offspring depends on the wisdom of my decision.

  It did not take her long.

  The moment she thought of Oh’Dar in the care of that heartless female, she knew she could not give him up to her. He is such a happy offspring, very full of life. But he is frail and at risk of harm by the nature of his delicate build. And he is also immanently vulnerable to harm by other offspring in the community. There would never be a Waschini—or a Brother for that matter—who could match one of the People for height, build, strength, or speed. He could be harmed—or worse—while playing with one of Khon’Tor’s other offspring, or those of the community.

  And Hakani had no love for Oh’Dar. She had risked his life even from the start, dangling him high in her outstretched arm for everyone in the assembly to see while she called out Adia’s sin. She could never allow Oh’Dar to fall into Hakani’s hands again.

  That meant Adia had to relinquish Khon’Tor’s offspring to Hakani. But not just Khon’Tor’s offspring. Her offspring. The only offspring she would ever bear; she would have to stand by and watch it raised by a mother who most likely would never love it, and a father who would never claim it. Adia had no illusions about Hakani’s motivation for claiming the offspring, though why the Leader’s mate hated her so much, Adia still did not know.

  She had made up her mind, making the only choice she could make in the situation. Oh’Dar needed her more. And the truth was, Adia had not chosen to be seeded with the offspring growing in her now. Oh’Dar was the offspring she had chosen. And she must now choose him again.

  Adia was so grateful to Acaraho for the brief respite. She had regained her composure and was now ready to face the consequences the High Council had imposed on her.

  She turned and walked back to the Council meeting room. Acaraho, who had been watching, opened the door as she approached and gently ushered her back into the room.