Chapter 11

The Haven was quiet the next morning when FirstMother Melanine awakened. Through the window she could see that the sun was not yet up. She breathed in the currents of LifeSong and listened to the slow rumble of the inhabitants of the city, just beginning to stir. This was her favorite time to rise, when the day was pure, full of endless potential. So much could be accomplished before the masses fully awakened and began to move about. With most of Qarath’s people sleeping, the flow of LifeSong was like a stream not yet muddied by people stomping around in it, churning up the mud and debris.

But not today. Today she lay there, knowing what she needed to do, prepared for it, but still having trouble finding the strength to take the final steps.

She had not tried to convince any of her sisters to believe as she did about Lowellin. What could she offer them anyway? She could only have said that it was what she believed. But what was belief? Perhaps her beliefs had been wrong her entire life. And what difference did it make what she believed anyway? Her belief or disbelief did not change the pillars of reality one bit.

Tired and angry suddenly, she pushed herself up off the bed. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Lowellin was their savior. But she would not be a part of what was to come. She would walk away; let the consequences fall on the heads of the others.

She opened a chest at the foot of her bed and took out the white robe that lay on top. Age and long use had made the garment more gray than white. Robes were the official attire of her order; the white color signified that she was of the Arc of Humans, those Tenders tasked with tending to humankind. She looked at the robe for a minute, then put it on. Normally the robe was only worn when the women in her Haven were performing a ritual or celebrating a holy day and they never wore them outside, not wanting to endure the harassment that would occur if they were recognized for what they were.

She started to turn away from the chest, then stopped. She knelt back beside it once again and dug through the clothes until she came upon a heavy object wrapped in oiled canvas. It had the weight and the heft of gold, though she had not taken it to a jeweler to find out for sure. It might be lead, but she doubted it. It came from a time when the Tenders did not need to make their adornments out of base metals.

Before she unwrapped it she shot a look over her shoulder at the window, but it was small and high up in the wall. Nearly impossible for someone to be peeking in, though she could not be too sure. Not with something this dangerous. Slowly she peeled the cloth back, holding her breath. As big as one of her hands with the fingers splayed, it was a many-pointed star enclosed in a circle. It was a Reminder, the holy symbol of the Tenders, and it was about the most dangerous thing she could own.

She had found it several years ago, up in the ruins of Old Qarath. What compelled her to go up there she did not know. Certainly she was too old to go climbing up the side of a mountain just to wander around in some old tumbledown buildings. But she had felt confined that day, tired of being enclosed by the squat gray buildings of Qarath. She needed to get out, and somehow she found herself walking up the old road to the abandoned city, and finally to the foot of the great ruined temple of the Tenders itself. And the Reminder was there, on the steps leading up to the main entrance, glittering in the sunlight, waiting for her.

Once, during the days of the Empire, Reminders had been everywhere. At the height of the Tenders’ power Reminders adorned the flags fluttering atop every imperial building, even the Emperor’s palace itself, flying at an equal height with the Emperor’s golden lion. Reminders were carved into every public building, into every helm and shield of the Tenders’ private armies. The wealthy and powerful wore them in golden brooches or necklaces, the poor in simple wood or even cloth. The starburst inside the circle, symbol of the Mother’s many-faceted presence inside the Circle of Life. Wearing one was meant to bring good fortune, a blessing from Xochitl. More importantly, wearing one might keep a body from getting hauled in to face the Tenders whose job it was to root out unbelievers and blasphemers wherever they might be hiding.

This symbol that Melanine held in her hand was still illegal in Qarath. Its appearance in public would get its wearer dragged in to face the magistrate immediately, if a citizen did not deal with the offender first. She turned it over in her hands. This was an ornate one, probably worn by a Tender of high rank. The symbols of the different Arcs—Human, Animal, Bird and Plant—were carved on the outer ring.

She should have disposed of it. She should never have picked it up. Beyond the fact that it was dangerous, it stood for everything she did not believe in, the arrogance and blind power of the order at its depths. It repelled her, and it drew her. Ghosts held onto it, whispered past her when she touched it. They pressed their cold lips to her now, and with another guilty look over her shoulder, she settled the heavy chain around her neck.

The metal was cold. All at once she seemed to see herself at the head of a bristling army of steel and leather, herself more powerful than all of them combined. She stood on a pedestal and looked down over cities…

Abruptly she yanked it off with trembling hands and threw it back into the chest. Xochitl’s curse lay upon the thing. She might be an old fool, but she would not bring that upon herself as well.

Melanine stood quickly, and swayed as a wave of dizziness swept over her. When it had passed she went out into the common room. It was empty, though at this time of the morning the other Tenders should have been gathering to say the prayers and to renew their sacred oaths. But they did not gather for morning prayers anymore, had not for years. Only on holy days did they gather, and not always then. All the old rituals were slipping away. Now she stood there and wondered how she could have been so blind. Why had she not insisted they continue, insisted that every sister attend every day?

Before the statue of the Mother at one end of the room she knelt and looked up at the eyes that stared into nothing, the hands that reached up to emptiness. Dust lay thick on the Mother’s shoulders; a cobweb stretched from one hand to the side of her head. She had not been much of a FirstMother, Melanine knew. History would not remember her. Her own sisters would quickly forget her.

She bent her head and tried to pray one last time. There were voices behind her and she turned. Nalene and Velma entered the room, murmuring to each other. With the help of her cane Melanine stood. When they saw her they stopped by the long dining table, their eyes wary. What would she say now? What would she do? She was still FirstMother and that still meant something. If she officially forbade the Tenders to have anything to do with Lowellin, it could be difficult.

“I’ll save you the trouble,” she said, walking towards them, wondering why her voice sounded so high and shaky. “I quit.”

They recoiled. Velma said, “What?”

“I renounce my vows. I won’t be part of this.”

Velma was blinking rapidly, trying to absorb the sudden news, but Melanine saw the calculation in Nalene’s eyes and knew what it meant.

“You are wondering who I will name as the next FirstMother, aren’t you?”

“No, FirstMother,” Velma protested, but Nalene said nothing. The calculation in her eyes grew hooded, but it did not disappear completely.

Melanine stopped across the dining table from them and stared at Nalene. “What would you do if I named someone else besides you? What if I named Velma here instead?”

“I would follow your will, of course,” Nalene replied, but Melanine had seen the flash of anger that preceded her words and knew the lie within them.

“Please don’t!” Velma blurted out, her eyes wide. “I don’t want to be FirstMother. I’d be terrible at it.” At least she was sincere. Velma did not possess the guile or the ambition to lie about such a thing.

“I won’t do that, Nalene. I will name you my successor. Just as you have always wanted.”

Nalene nodded.

“But not because I believe you are best suited to it. No, I believe either Mulin or Perast would be a better FirstMother.”

Nalene’s jaw tightened.

“I name you my successor because I believe you would wrest the title away anyway, and I would save my sisters the strife.”

“In the war that is coming, the FirstMother will need to be strong. There are none here stronger than I.”

“Do not confuse strength and ruthlessness,” Melanine snapped, suddenly furious and wanting nothing more than for this to be over. “Now that you are FirstMother you should have this as well.”

She pulled something out of the pocket of her robe and threw it on the table.

All three women stared down at the table in surprise.

“It’s a Reminder,” Velma said in awe.

Melanine fell back a step, suddenly confused. I put that thing back in the chest. I’m sure of it.

Nalene reached for it. She stroked it once, reverently, then picked it up.

“It’s a sign,” Velma sighed. “A sign from Xochitl.”

“Where did you get it?” Nalene asked. Her eyes were fixed on it hungrily.

“I…I found it.” It was hard to get the words out. The walls were pressing in on her and she couldn’t breathe. Down the hallway she heard the front door creak as it opened and she turned, knowing instantly who it was.

“I will not be part of this,” she gasped, and headed for the back door.

          

Nalene didn’t even see her go. She stood staring at the Reminder, transfixed. First Lowellin, and now this. It was her vision, coming true at last. It had to be. Footsteps were coming down the hall. Without looking up she ordered Velma, “Don’t just stand there. Escort the Protector in.” Velma scurried away.

Lowellin entered the room, Velma bobbing around him, murmuring apologies. He strode to the table. “I have come for your decision.”

Nalene nodded. “We are ready.” To Velma she said, “Go get the others. Tell them to hurry.”

When they were alone, Lowellin looked at the Reminder and said, “I have not seen one of those in a long time.”

“They are forbidden,” Nalene said.

“Times change,” he replied. “What was feared becomes a symbol of security. Those who were ridiculed become protectors.”

“This has gone on too long,” she said, her voice bitter. “I will not put up with it anymore.” She clenched the Reminder in her fist, then looked up and met his eyes. “You don’t know what we have been through. You don’t know how they treat us.”

“I know more than you realize. I knew when I walked in here yesterday that you would be the one to lead the Tenders back to greatness.”

His words went through her and suddenly it was hard for Nalene to look at him. She wanted so desperately what he offered, but she didn’t want him to see the need in her eyes. “We deserve to walk the streets openly. To speak the truth about Xochitl without fear. To leave this—” she gestured around her at the dark room with its cracked floor, sagging ceiling, worm-eaten furniture, “—this hovel behind, for good.”

He only stared at her. She could feel his eyes and she did not know what color they were. His strength filled the room like the throbbing of a forge. At length he said, “It will not be easy.” She made a gesture of dismissal. “It will require sacrifices, some of them painful.”

“So?” she said, angry now. Her anger made it okay to look at him. Her anger was her strength. “What do those things mean to me? My whole life has been a sacrifice.”

“Not like this,” he warned.

“At least this sacrifice will be for something.”

He nodded, as if hearing what he had expected to hear. “History will remember you as a great FirstMother.”

“I have earned it,” she told him, and settled the Reminder around her neck. It felt cool and strong against her skin. It felt right.

When the others entered the room their gazes traveled from Lowellin to Nalene, sitting at the head of the table wearing the Reminder, and they shrank. Tension and fear and hope radiated from them. Most proved unable to meet the gaze of either Nalene or Lowellin and simply took their seats quietly.

Nalene looked down on them and saw a huddled group of broken women, afraid of their own shadows, clinging onto shreds of the past while they waited for death to release them from their own inadequacy. They didn’t have a complete backbone among them. They did not look like the core of an army that could stand against Melekath. They did not look as if they could have stood before a band of vegetable peddlers.

Suddenly they disgusted her. She wanted to shout at them, tell them to stand up straight and be proud, shove the Reminder in their faces and show them a symbol of all they had to be proud of. They had been heirs to the world once before. They would be again. Couldn’t they see that?

Lowellin moved from the table to stand before the statue of Xochitl and Nalene followed and stood beside him.

“This is a new day,” he said. He stood with his back to them, his hands resting lightly on his staff, looking into the statue’s carven face. “Never will there be one like this again. The next age is arriving, and it will be born in fire. It will be born in pain. But if you are strong, if you stay true to your faith, you will survive. You will emerge victorious and the shame and humiliation of centuries will be forgotten.”

The women quivered and a sigh swept the room.

“It will not be easy. It will be more difficult than you ever imagined.”

Lowellin turned around and fixed them with a burning gaze. When he spoke his voice had taken on a new intensity. “This is a war. A war with all Life at stake. If we lose, Melekath will break the Circle and everything will die. Everything. Never forget that. When what I ask you to do seems too hard, too frightening, remember what is at stake.”

He stared at them while his words sank in, measuring, judging.

“I have been preparing for this war for a very long time, since the prison was made, in fact. Remember this and do not doubt me, no matter what I ask of you. We do not have time to waste. I do not want Tenders who will question and doubt and fall short. If you are not completely committed to this, if you are unsure or hesitant, stay where you are. You must trust what I say implicitly and completely if we are to have any chance of defeating Melekath.” He seemed to have grown larger as he talked, as if taking the hood off his inner fire, and he blazed across the room, sweeping darkness and fear before him.

“It is time to choose. Those of you who are ready will now come forward and kneel before me.”

The gathered Tenders exchanged fearful looks. They were unprepared for this, Nalene saw. They had spent too many years hiding. Lowellin’s light was too strong. She, on the other hand, was ready. The scorn and humiliation she had suffered had prepared her exactly for this. Nalene wanted to shout with joy. It was time.

But she knew she had to act quickly and decisively or the moment would be lost. They would falter and Lowellin would turn his back on them as the Mother had done.

Nalene knelt before him and bowed her head. He placed one hand on her head. “Repeat after me: In defense of the land and all Life, I will not hesitate. I will never surrender, never yield. My own life is nothing. There is no sacrifice too great.”

Nalene started at the words, so similar to the Tender oath, but she did not hesitate to say them. In truth, she did not need to speak them aloud. With her whole being she surged toward his light, ravenous for it after so long in the dark. He placed his hands on her head and she felt his light wash through her, filling her with a sense of purpose, of sureness.

Velma was next. She nearly flung herself at his feet. “I will follow you anywhere, Protector.”

When she stood up after intoning the words she looked fierce, determined. She took her place beside Nalene and glared at the other Tenders, daring them.

Perast was next, her thin face composed as she knelt before the white-haired man. Like Velma, Perast looked changed when she stood up, and crossed her arms over her chest as she took her place beside Velma.

Any lingering indecision was gone then, as the Tenders jostled each other to make their obeisance before the Protector. Eagerly, fearfully, like chickens racing to get inside the coop before darkness comes and leaves them outside with the wolves, they came forward and the room was charged with new life as they took their oaths. All of them except a young, round-faced Tender named Minel and simple Lenda.

“I am with FirstMother Melanine on this,” Minel said softly, putting the slightest emphasis on the title. “I will be no part of this.”

Lenda looked from Minel to the women at the front of the room, indecision on her face. She and Minel shared a room. Minel had taken her under her wing from her first day in the Haven.

“I cannot help you in this decision,” Minel said to her gently. “You must listen to your own heart.”

Lenda stood poised there a moment longer, her soft features twisting. But she could not stand before the weight of such a majority and with a small cry she darted for the others and knelt as well.

Then Minel stood alone, her hands clasped before her, her eyes turned to the floor.

“Go,” Nalene said roughly. She wanted this woman out, fast, before she poisoned others with her weakness. Every moment she stayed was like a finger of guilt pointing straight at Nalene.

“I will need only a few minutes to collect my things.” Minel started for the hall leading back to their quarters.

“And this is our first lesson,” Lowellin said, his voice calm. “Not all will fight. But we will make the land safe for all of them. Our blood will make their meekness possible.”

Minel did not reply, but she lowered her head further as she walked out, as if his words were lashes.

Then they all stood there, none sure what they had just done, what they would do now. “This is your new FirstMother,” Lowellin said, resting his hand on Nalene’s shoulder. “Obey her.”

Then he walked for the door, motioning to Nalene to join him. To her he said, “I will return in a few days, and I will show you the weapons that even Melekath fears.”

Go to next chapter