Chapter 33
The two women jumped and Netra gave a little cry.
A man about Siena’s age stood behind them, holding up his hands. “Didn’t mean to startle you ladies,” he said. His clothes were simple homespun cloth and he had a large, floppy hat on his head. A large pouch was slung over one shoulder.
Siena had her hand over her heart and was trying to calm her breathing. Netra wasn’t sure if she was breathing at all. “Who…are you?” Siena managed finally.
“Just old Dorn.” He made an odd movement with his hand, like a bird taking flight. “A breath of wind. A chaser of dreams.”
“Do you live here? What’s happened to this town?”
“I live…” He spread his hands to indicate the horizon in all directions. “But not there. No. Or I’d be like them. Poor souls.”
“What kind of disease could do that?” Siena looked back at the house and shuddered. The woman wasn’t moving.
“You think it’s a disease?”
“Are you saying it’s not?” Siena said.
“You’re Tenders, aren’t you?”
The two women shared a look. Siena shook her head imperceptibly, but for some reason Netra felt she could trust this man. He was odd, but she sensed nothing hostile about him. “We are.”
“Then take another look at the town. What do you see?” He was staring at Netra as he spoke, his head cocked to the side, peering out from under the brim of his hat, his eyes oddly bright. “
Netra frowned.
“Go on, lass,” he said gently. “See.”
Netra turned back to the town. Holding herself very still, she slowed her breathing and focused on it. In. Out. When she was ready, she caught hold of an exhalation and let it pull her out of herself. All at once she was beyond, the mists swirling around her. She concentrated and went deeper. The mists cleared and she could see.
She gasped.
Sickly yellow flows wrapped the town like some cancerous web. There were almost no normal flows of Song visible. On the edge of the yellow web was a dim glow. The dying woman’s akirma. There was a flash of light as it disintegrated.
Netra pulled out of beyond. Siena was staring at her. “What is it, Netra? What did you see?”
Netra told her and Siena’s eyes widened in alarm. “I’ve seen one of those sickly yellow flows before,” Netra added. She looked at her arm. The mark it had made was faint, but still there. “The night Jolene had her vision. I was outside and I went beyond. It touched me on my left forearm, right here. It felt like it burned me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this?” Siena asked.
“I was going to,” Netra admitted. “But I was afraid you wouldn’t let me go to Treeside and then…and then I forgot.”
“You should have told me.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”
Siena turned to Dorn. “What do you know about what happened here?”
“We can talk more, but best we go now. Sometimes other things follow those flows, or grow out of them. I don’t know which. We don’t want to be here either way.”
He took them in a wide arc that led around the town. He moved like a much younger man, his steps light and sure. Netra, following him and checking his tracks out of old habit, noticed that he left almost no trace of his passage. She hurried to walk beside him.
“How did you know?” she asked him.
“How do you think I knew?”
“You can see?” The idea was astonishing to her.
“Perception is not limited to your order, lass.”
“But the Book of Xochitl says that only women, and only those women favored by the Mother, can go beyond.”
“Is that what it says?”
Netra hesitated. She felt foolish suddenly, like a girl who believes the moon is made of curdled milk. “It’s what I was always taught.”
“Be careful about what you’re taught, lass. Sometimes those doing the teaching have other motives.”
“But why would anyone do that?”
“Fear is one reason. Control is another.”
“But the Book is the word of Xochitl, given directly to our order before she left.”
“Is it now? Because there are some histories that say your Book was written long after she left.”
“I…I don’t really know.”
Siena had caught up with them without Netra noticing. “The Book contains the wisdom of Xochitl. Nothing else,” she said.
“Well, there you have it,” Dorn said. “The voice of truth.”
“I will thank you to keep your heretical opinions to yourself, sir,” Siena said in an icy tone.
“It wouldn’t do for the lass to get ideas of her own now, would it?” he replied and for the first time Netra heard a darker undertone in his voice. “She might start thinking and then where would we all be?”
“It’s not like that,” Siena replied.
Dorn came to a stop and he swung around to face Siena. “Then how is it like?”
“Look, we are grateful for your warning,” she said. “But I think it is best if we go our separate ways now.”
“But why?” Netra interjected. “I want to hear what he has to say.”
“There’s hope for you yet, lass.”
“Stop that!” Siena exclaimed. “I won’t have you twisting things around and confusing her.”
“Are you confused, Netra?” he asked her in a gentle tone. She nodded. “Maybe it’s because you’ve been fed a story that doesn’t hold up in the real world.”
“That’s it! Netra, come with me. This man has nothing to say that we want to hear.”
“Why don’t you let the lass make up her own mind?”
“Because what you’re saying is the same mix of lies and half-truths that Melekath used to lead the Children astray and I won’t have you doing it to Netra.” Siena’s face had gone red.
“A thousand years since the Empire fell and still the Tenders haven’t learned a thing,” Dorn said in a cold voice.
“You know nothing about us,” Siena rejoined.
“Can you both just please stop?” Netra asked. “It’s too much. I don’t want to hear it right now.” She looked from one to the other, pleading.
Dorn was the first to bend. “My apologies, lass. Sometimes I don’t know when to keep my own mouth shut.”
“I’m sorry, Netra,” Siena said, putting her arm around her. “I know you’ve been through a lot lately. I don’t mean to make it worse.”
“It’s okay,” Netra said. “Can we just make camp already? I’m tired.”
“I’d like to stop,” Siena said. “Do you think we’re far enough from the town?” she asked Dorn.
“I can’t say for sure,” he replied. “But my gut tells me we’re okay.” He smiled, his good humor returning all at once. “Or it could be I’m just hungry.” He patted his belly. He looked around. “There’s a good spot in that clump of trees up ahead. How about we make camp there?”
As they walked toward the trees, Netra asked him. “What were you doing there, outside that town?”
“I’ve been there most of the day. I felt it start this morning and came as quickly as I could.”
“Why?”
He gave her a sideways look. “To witness,” he said. “No one should have to start the last journey alone. The living should always be near to watch the light leave.”
Netra looked over her shoulder. Siena was a few steps back. She spoke in a low voice so Siena wouldn’t hear. “How do you go beyond?”
He gave her a pat on the shoulder. “It’s quite a bit different for me than it is for you, I imagine.”
Netra frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
“There’s other ways to the deeper knowledge,” he said cryptically.
That immediately fascinated Netra. Other ways? “What ways?”
“Later,” he said. “I’ve upset your friend enough for now. I say we eat and then, if you’re still interested, I’ll do better than tell you. I’ll show you.” He continued on.
Netra stared after him, wondering. There were complexities to his Selfsong that she had never heard before. His Song held a wildness, a raw edge, that she didn’t quite understand. Something unusual had mixed with his Song and changed him.
They reached the spot and he had a small cook fire going in minutes. “Try not to let this bother you too much,” he said when he had it going. He pulled a dead squirrel out of his pouch, drew his knife and began to quickly, expertly skin it.
“I don’t…it’s okay,” Netra said, trying to ignore the sound of the skin pulling away from the flesh. The Tenders of Rane Haven were of the Arc of Animals and thus didn’t eat meat. “It doesn’t bother me.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Dorn said, cutting the squirrel’s head off and setting it aside. He skewered the squirrel and began to cook it over the fire. The smell of cooking flesh reached Netra and she started to feel ill. She had to swallow hard several times to keep from retching. To take her mind off the smell she started talking.
“You said you would tell us more about those strange yellow flows.”
Dorn nodded. “They only appeared recently.” He looked up from the fire. “You’re going to find this hard to believe, but I think someone, or something, is poisoning the River itself.”
“That’s impossible,” Siena said.
But there was something odd about her expression when she said it, and something in her Song as well that made Netra wonder. It was as if Dorn was giving voice to something she already feared and didn’t want put into words.
“You saw the town,” he said quietly. “That’s not the only place it’s happening. Tainted flows are popping up everywhere. How else would the poison get into all those flows, unless it was coming from the River itself?”
“I don’t know how it got there or what it is, I just know it’s impossible,” Siena said stubbornly.
“Saying it’s impossible doesn’t make it so,” he said mildly.
“What could poison the River?” Netra asked.
“That’s one question, isn’t it?” Dorn said. “The other question is why?”
“It’s Melekath, taking his revenge like the Book says,” Netra said.
“Well, he’d certainly have his reasons for revenge, wouldn’t he?”
“What do you mean by that?” Siena was scowling at Dorn.
“I mean if you were imprisoned for a few thousand years, you might want some revenge too. It’s only natural.”
“Melekath corrupted and perverted people,” Siena snapped. “He got what he deserved.”
“Did he corrupt people or did he just offer them a different choice?”
“He corrupted them and turned them into abominations!” Siena’s voice was rising.
“So your holy book says. But there’s other sources say other things. They say the people of Durag’otal just wanted to live in peace and the other gods made war on them for no reason.”
“That’s ridiculous. What are these sources you speak of?”
“I think you know.”
Siena came to her feet. She pointed at Dorn. “You’re a Windcaller.”
Netra stared at Dorn. A Windcaller? Brelisha had warned her and Cara about Windcallers. Windcallers claimed to be able to hear the wind, even call the wind to them. To the Tenders they were fakes at best and blasphemers at worst.
“That I am,” Dorn agreed, taking off his floppy hat and setting it on the ground beside him. “You make it sound like a crime.”
“It is a crime.” Siena’s face was flushed.
“Not anymore. Not since the Tenders lost power.” He shifted his attention to Netra. “During the days of Empire my kind were hunted ruthlessly, almost to extinction.”
“Because of your crimes,” Siena interjected.
“And what crimes were those? Asking questions? Maybe the same questions that Melekath and his followers asked?”
“Do you see what he’s doing?” Siena said to Netra.
“Faith is a wonderful thing,” Dorn continued, “but not if it’s used to close the mind.”
“See the traps he weaves with words,” Siena said.
“There is more to the world than you have been taught, lass,” Dorn said gently. “You will never find out who you are and where you fit in this world if you blind yourself.” He looked at Siena. “A healthy curiosity is not a bad thing.”
“The wrong questions can lead a person into darkness,” she snapped.
“Can you two just stop!” Netra blurted out suddenly. “Do you have to fight about this right now?”
“I’m sorry,” Siena murmured.
“Accept my apologies as well. We fight an old battle and we have no right to put you in the middle.” He pulled the squirrel off the fire and began eating it.
At the sight of Dorn eating the squirrel, Netra started feeling sick again and had to look away. She’d never seen anyone eat meat before.
When Dorn was done he stood. “If you’re still interested in knowing about my ways…” He shrugged. “Up to you.” He walked off into the desert.
Netra stood up to follow and Siena grabbed her arm. There was worry in her eyes. “Don’t trust him, Netra. Don’t let him fill you with his lies. That way lies separation from the Mother. He and his kind will never find the way to her embrace.”
“How can it hurt to just talk to him? What’s so bad about wanting to learn something new?”
“That’s what your…” Siena broke off. When she didn’t say anything more, Netra left.
“Once you start down that path you may never get off it,” Siena called after her.
Netra hadn’t gone far when she realized she didn’t know where Dorn had gone. She stood in the darkness, quieting her thoughts, listening.
It wasn’t long before she was able to pick his Song out of the background. It was definitely unusual. She followed it and in a small clearing she found Dorn. He had something in his hand.
“Can you really call the wind?” she asked.
“Sometimes. When they are willing.”
“Who are you talking about?”
“Aranti.”
“What are those?”
“Be patient. You’ll see.” He held out the thing in his hand. It had a leather thong tied to it. It was too dark to see it clearly, but it looked to be bone, or maybe sun-bleached wood, about the size of her hand, irregularly shaped, with a number of tiny holes in it.
On one side of the clearing was a small pile of boulders. Dorn climbed on top of them. He began to swing the thing around his head. The thong was only a couple feet long and the circles the object inscribed were small. But as Netra watched, the circles began to get larger and larger. Soon it was cutting a huge circle in the air, a dozen feet across or more. She blinked. The object seemed to have grown larger as well. It was bigger than a man’s head and an eerie whistling came from it. She started to back away and realized she was sitting on the ground, though she couldn’t remember doing so.
The wind began to blow. Just a soft breeze at first, it quickly picked up. Chills ran up Netra’s back. There were sounds in the wind. Voices. Perhaps even laughter. But utterly alien.
Still twirling the object, Dorn looked at her. Netra thought his eyes were glowing. He pointed at her with his free hand. With one finger he made a tapping motion, for all the world as if he was tapping on a window to get her attention.
Netra felt the taps like small concussions and her world reeled. Slowly she toppled over onto her back. Now she was looking up at the sky, and she could see creatures in the wind.
Formless, ethereal beings, they raced and cavorted in the sky. She smiled. They were laughing, calling to each other, making childlike noises, meaningless and joyful.
How long she watched them she couldn’t tell. But at length she saw that there were fewer of them. They were dissipating, and then they were gone. She blinked. The sky was empty. Dorn appeared, looking down at her.
“They are somewhat mindless, at least in the way we understand. They don’t care much for what happens in our world.”
“Were those aranti?” she asked.
“Yes. They dwell in the wind, in the Sphere of Sky. Pieces of their Sphere lie within you and me, within all Life, though so far back we can’t separate them anymore. There would be no Life without the Sky, just as there would be no Life without Stone and Sea as well. The Three coming together to form the One.”
“What does that mean, the Three forming the One?”
“The Circle of Life borrows from the Spheres of Stone, Sea and Sky. Then we die, and what we have borrowed is returned.”
“Are the aranti gods?” The question sounded foolish even to her.
Dorn laughed gently and helped her to her feet. “Forget about gods. The term is only a restrictive word for things beyond our understanding. Just know that they exist and they are not the only things beyond your narrow beliefs. There is far more to this world than either you or I realize.”
“How do they help you go beyond?”
“I don’t really go beyond, not in the sense that you do.”
“Then how do you know the things you do?”
“Sometimes, when I let them, they blow through me and carry me away with them. Not my body, you understand, but my spirit.”
“You mean like how the old Tenders were able to spirit-walk and travel great distances?”
“Something like that. When I go with them I can see the world through their eyes and they see far different things than you or I do.”
“They know about the poison in Song?”
“They are frightened by it, by what it means. In their hatred, the Guardians open doors that should be left closed. There are things even the most powerful of the Shapers cannot control.”
Netra’s head was spinning. It was so much information, so fast. She had so many questions she didn’t know which to ask first. “What are Shapers? What doors are you talking about?”
Dorn patted her hand. “There are things you are not yet ready to hear. You should go back to your friend now. She worries about you, and for all her narrow-minded views, she loves you. Love is not something to be tossed aside lightly, even when it delivers burdens.”
Netra tensed. “You think I’m just a child.”
“That’s not it at all, lass.”
“Then why won’t you answer my questions?”
“Because there’s still so much I don’t know. Interpreting what I learn through the aranti is very difficult and I may be wrong about much of it. I don’t want to frighten you unnecessarily.”
“I think it’s too late for that.”
“Go now. Keep your mind open.” He gave her a gentle shove back toward the camp.
Netra went a few steps and then she had a feeling and stopped to look back. “What is it?” she asked. “You want to warn me of something.”
Dorn sighed. “Be careful, lass. You have so much potential and so much passion. You’re capable of so much more than you realize.”
He paused and Netra said, “That doesn’t sound too threatening.”
“Passion is a wonderful thing, so long as it does not get away from you. Unchecked, fear and despair can take over. You may wake up one day to find you have gone so far off your path you can no longer find it. You may find that you have become like the very thing you hate.”
His words chilled Netra. “There’s no way that would ever happen to me,” she said, but her words lacked real conviction.
“I hope not. As I said, there is much I do not know.”
Siena was already lying down wrapped in her blanket when Netra got back to the camp. Netra dug her blanket out of her pack and lay there on the ground by the dying fire, looking at the stars, feeling very small and insignificant. Only a few days ago the world had seemed a predictable, understandable place, where the worst thing that could happen was that she would be given extra chores as punishment for avoiding her lessons. Now there were monsters loose in the world, terrible prophecies coming true, poisonous flows that wiped out entire villages, and looming over it all, the menacing figure of Melekath.
She thought of the aranti Dorn had showed her and in spite of her fears she smiled. Who would have thought such creatures existed? She had been raised to believe that the sum of all necessary knowledge and wisdom was contained between the covers of the Book of Xochitl. And, until recently, she had believed it. Now she didn’t know what to think. Clearly there was far more to the world than she had been taught. It was both frightening and exciting to imagine what else might lie out there, things she had never dreamed of.
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