The Sixth Discipline

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The Sixth Discipline Page 84

by Carmen Webster Buxton


  ***

  Ran-Del rested for the rest of the afternoon. He ate dinner with his grandparents and Bettine. It was a very quiet meal. Isayah said almost nothing; Mina had to coax him to eat. The atmosphere subdued even Bettine.

  Ran-Del slept in his old room. Isayah had built a new room for Bettine, cutting a door in a storeroom wall, and adding on yet another component to the rambling house. Technically, Bettine was entitled to her own great room, too, but she hadn’t yet expressed a desire for one, so Isayah had let it wait.

  In the morning, Ran-Del was awakened by his grandmother’s presence. He opened his eyes to find her standing next to his bed.

  “Get up, Ran-Del,” she said gently. “Your great-grandfather died last night.”

  Ran-Del washed and dressed hurriedly, performing the morning ritual with an unseemly haste. Death imposed duties on everyone. Mina put him to work filling the cistern with water, so that Ji-Ran’s body could be decently washed and dressed for its journey. After Ran-Del had carried bucket after bucket, she sent him off to help with the building of the funeral boat.

  Because it was their shaman who had died, the whole village helped with the preparations. It was important that Ji-Ran Jahanpur’s death rites reflect well on his clan.

  By late afternoon, everything was finished. The villagers carried the body of the shaman on a bier, with Isayah, Mina, Bettine, and Ran-Del walking single file behind it. Behind them six sturdy young men carried the sharp-prowed funeral boat, built to float only once upon the water, until the flames would sink it beneath the surface.

  The young men launched the boat into the shallow water of the river’s edge, downstream from the rocks that made the waterfalls. The married women made a pyre on the boat, a nest of highly flammable dried lace palm fronds, interspersed with small sticks of medicine wood. Isayah and Ran-Del waded into the water and carried Ji-Ran’s remains to the boat. He had been a big man once, but now his body was thin and frail. Isayah and Ran-Del laid him on the pyre and then each of them removed the black bead with the shaman’s silver inlay from his caste bracelet and placed it in the corpse’s right hand. Isayah lit the pyre with a torch kindled from Ji-Ran’s own hearth.

  As the new shaman, Doan spoke the words of farewell, and the six young men propelled the boat into the current. The river caught the flaming craft, and carried it swiftly. Blue and white smoke drifted upward in the breeze, making smudges on the golden sky, as the boat traveled speedily downstream.

  They all stood silently on the shore and watched, until even the smoke could be seen no more. When the last of the smudges had faded from the sky, the people dispersed into family groups and made their way home.

  Ran-Del walked beside his grandfather, watching the older man closely to see if he needed help. Isayah was sorrowful but composed. He had had, Ran-Del realized, a lot of time to prepare for this moment.

  When they reached their own house, Mina took Bettine inside to make her some warm broth before bedtime. Isayah led Ran-Del off to look at the revelation lodge.

  “Tomorrow morning,” Isayah said, “you’ll go into the lodge for your true Ordeal. You won’t come out for two days, perhaps three if you have a difficult time of it. You’ll be given water, but nothing to eat for that time.”

  “I remember,” Ran-Del said.

  Isayah shook his head. “It’ll be different this time. It’s always more wearing on those who have true psy talent, especially for you because your gift came to you so suddenly that you have little control over it.”

  Ran-Del felt a quiver of fear. “Do you mean that it’ll be painful, Grandfather?”

  “Almost certainly it’ll be painful.” Isayah’s eyes looked grave. “You’re no longer a young boy with only the most innocent of memories. You’re a grown man, a warrior; you’ve been married for most of a season, and you’ve just had a painful experience. Opening your mind to your inquisitors will be—traumatic.”

  “Who will it be?”

  Isayah sighed. “Me, Ali, Doan.”

  Ran-Del nodded. Ali was a little older than Doan, and like Isayah he had four beads on his caste bracelet. Ran-Del’s inquisitors would be allowed to take breaks, to sleep, and to eat. Ran-Del would be kept awake as long as possible, and he would never be alone.

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