An avalanche of stimuli from the city crashed in—sights, noises, smells. The slaves’ plight faded in his mind, for now. There was too much to see, hear and smell everywhere he turned.
Buildings of black and white marble inlaid with copper, onyx and brass and topped with spires and domes rose all about him and took his breath away.
He snatched up his small satchel of belongings while the men prepared to unload. Then he went to find the captain.
Ragna was his usual self, yelling and barking orders. Edak cleared his throat. “Captain Ragna, sir?” It angered Ragna to be approached now, but he was always in this mood, so Edak continued. “I only want to take a moment to thank you for letting me sail with you. I learned a lot.”
Ragna swished his hand through the air as if the words were flies to be repelled. “Yah, yah. You earned it.” Edak turned to go, and Ragna added, “You’re a good worker. When you grow up, you come to me if you want to sail. I’ll put you on.”
Edak smiled. “Thank you, sir. I’ll do that—if I wish to sail.” He waved goodbye to some of the sailors, and walked down the ramp.
The moist air smelled of fish, smoke and strange other things. But it was good to be on land again.
He stepped off the ramp and felt suddenly uneasy. All his life he had heard about this great country. Now that he was here, it all seemed strange, frightening, exciting, wonderful and terrible at the same time.
Goats bleated, llamas balked, donkeys brayed. Peddlers milled about, calling loudly, trying to sell their wares. Shoppers tried to shout louder, haggling to get a better price.
Men, women and children in rags peeked out from behind fat columns, and some sat brazenly in the roadways begging for money, for bread, for pity. Some were blind, others crippled, some sick. Edak had never seen beggars before. In the midst of all this richness and plenty, how could people be hungry? In Mu, where possessions were scant, no one went hungry as long as there was any food at all.
Edak was ashamed, for he had neither coin nor food to offer. He looked away and tried not to hear their cries.
All about were people—more people than he thought lived in the entire world. People covered the streets, sitting, standing, walking, running, riding on strange animals or in carts. People entered and exited buildings and poked heads out of windows. People chatted and laughed and raged and whistled. People everywhere!
He walked down a promenade, fascinated by each new wonder, taking in every sight, every sound, every smell. How could he make sense of it all? Nothing like this existed in Mu.
Huge stone aqueducts spanned buildings and streets and Edak stopped to admire them. These great marvels carried water to every building. Imagine, water right inside one’s home! And the houses—so large! What did people do with all that space? Yes, Ropl Du Meh had talked of this, yet how could his young mind have comprehended the extent of Atlan’s greatness?
The streets meandered farther from the docks now, away from people of other nations. More and more, Atlanteans stared at the alien with the strange looks and dress. He noticed eyes peeking out at him from every direction. Once again he realized his strangeness. He may as well be back on the ship. The new land wasn’t so marvelous now, only bewildering.
At a small marketplace a young man sat cross-legged on a mat before a low table. All about him lay the tools of a scribe: parchment, brushes and vials of ink. Obviously a learned man, Edak thought he might know the whereabouts of Seratl Ti. “Excuse me,” he said. “I am new to Aryaz and am in need of direction. Could you help me?”
“I’ll try,” said the young man. He was clad in an orange robe of silk brocade and had a headband of woven gold and silver lame, which held his well-cut impeccably groomed dark hair in place. He leaned forward to hear Edak over the din of the street.
It was hard not to stare at the man’s wealth, but Edak knew it would seem rude. “I am Edak of Mu and have come to Aryaz to be taught by Seratl Ti. Do you know of him?”
“Do I know of him!” cried the man, leaning back happily. “He was my instructor! See how well he taught me. I want for nothing! My vocation has made me rich.”
Edak smiled. Accumulating possessions by writing for people was not his goal, yet he was happy for the man. “Then his reputation as a fine teacher is true. We are both truly fortunate to study under him. I need directions to his house if you would be so kind.”
“Certainly. Can you read Atlantean? I’ll make you a map.”
“Yes, but I can’t pay you. Perhaps if you just tell me...”
“This is a gift from a student of Seratl Ti.”
Edak knelt before the man, who spread out a light cloth and dipped his brush into an ink vial.
Soon the map was complete and the scribe fanned the cloth to dry it. “Tell Seratl Ti that Jebwar sends his very warmest greetings.” He rolled the cloth and handed it to Edak, then they both stood up.
“Thank you,” said Edak, extending his arms. “You’re very kind.”
Jebwar grasped Edak’s arms. “I’m proud to know you. If you happen to visit the marketplace again, stop by. I’d like to learn of Mu from a Murian’s point of view.”
“I will,” said Edak, waving. He continued through the marketplace and on until he came to a building of black marble columns. He pretended not to notice the stares of curious people.
Finally, he put down his satchel and opened the map.
The instructions took him through a narrow alley that passed by high walls that surrounded courtyards of private homes. Children played in the streets and stopped to see the strange-looking lad. Near the end of the alley were steep, wooden steps that led to a tree-lined boulevard. He turned left of this road and walked until he came to a statue of a winged goddess. A blind beggar didn’t know how strange Edak looked and pleaded for alms the same as he would to any other sound of footsteps.
A right turn led onto a long, winding road which took him to the edge of Aryaz, near a foothill. It was quiet here, less populated. Birds sang and the air smelled sweeter.
Seratl Ti’s house should be near. Edak looked around.
To his left stood a yard enclosed by a tall adobe wall. This is what he had been looking for. At the gate he found a niche in the wall nearby which held a bell. He shook the bell nervously and its clear tinkle broke through the air.
His confidence was gone now. Would Seratl Ti find him funny-looking, too? What of the other students—will they laugh?
Young footsteps within pattered to the large wooden door. It creaked open and a small light-skinned boy, perhaps ten years old, looked out. He had short light-brown hair and blue eyes. The two stared at each other curiously for a few seconds.
“Good afternoon,” Edak said softly. “I am Edak of Mu. I have come to be a student of Tutor Seratl Ti. Is this the correct place to be?”
The boy smiled. “Oh, yes. Come in. Seratl Ti has been expecting you for some time. Come with me, please.” Edak followed the boy inside. “Welcome to Atlan,” said the boy. “I hope your stay with us will be enjoyable. I am Trunsitla from the Green Peninsula of the Northern Ocean.”
“The Green Peninsula,” said Edak, amused by his talkative companion. “So far away! You must tell me of it when you can.”
“I will, with pride,” said Trunsitla. “It is a temperate, misty land of great beauty.”
They entered into a courtyard, quiet and serene, perfumed with the scent of flowers growing in small plots here and there. Off to one side on a marble bench sat a man, middle-aged, with graying shoulder-length hair and a large hooked nose. He wore a red ankle-length robe. Five boys surrounded him, all about Edak’s or Trunsitla’s ages. They sat on the ground quietly, watching the approach of the new student.
The man stood. He was only as tall as Edak’s shoulders. “Ah, you must be our new boy Edak. Is that correct?”
Edak felt the others’ stares bore into his skin. “Yes, sir. I am Edak of Mu,” he said politely. Only Seratl Ti noticed
the lad’s trembling hands. “I promise to study hard and earn my keep,” Edak continued. “I hope you’ll be happy with me.”
Seratl Ti smiled warmly and put his hand on Edak’s shoulder, the way Ropl Du Meh would—or Rehm. “Please, don’t feel out of place. We are all here together and you are among friends; you may think of us as your Atlantean family. Now come, sit down here and we’ll all become acquainted.”
The teacher’s words were kind and warm, and Edak’s fears vanished. These people were different in outer appearances, true. But inside, they were as Ropl Du Meh had told him. He sat down and looked at his new schoolmates. They smiled and waited to be introduced.
A fog rose up and enveloped them. Everything became hazy and the sounds muffled.
Then the scene dissipated.
* * * *
Chapter 9
“Ketzah!”
An adolescent’s eyelids fluttered, struggled to open, submitted to sleep, then strained to admit just a slit of light into his dream-filled head, blue-gray eyes finally focusing hazily on the bedroom ceiling overhead. The white stucco was familiar and homey, but this wasn’t where Ketzah wanted to be. He had left it behind again—that ancient, intriguing place. He pondered hard, his eyes staring vacantly.
“Ketzah! Time for school, Ketzah. Wake up,” Finah called from the kitchen, repeating the message she’d used for six years.
Ketzah wanted to stall, to try to make sense of the dream, then ease back into the here and now. It was useless to try. She was adamant, as usual. He yawned, rubbed his eyes and sat up, a red blanket of soft wool covering him up to his chest. “Yes, Mother. I’m awake. I was dreaming.”
Finah stood in the doorway studying her son. Where had her small boy gone? Even now his chest and arms were firm and muscular. Soon his voice would change, she surmised.
Time moves by so quickly. Wasn’t it only a year or two ago that he was toddling at her feet?
Still, he lived in that fantasy world. Finah sighed. She never knew if she should worry about that or just accept it as part of his uniqueness.
“Ketzah, Ketzah,” she said, lightly shaking her head. “Always dreaming. It’s fun to do that, but it’s real life that’s important, you know that.” She caressed his cheek. “Especially today. How do you feel, now that you’re thirteen, old man?”
Ketzah scratched his head. “I guess I feel the same as yesterday.” He rubbed his hands lightly over his blanket. “It’s funny. When I was small, I thought of thirteen as the doorway to manhood. Now I’m here, and I don’t feel older or wiser than I ever did.” His brows furrowed. “But that dream I had—I’d been there before...”
Time was passing and Finah had breakfast waiting. She handed him a fresh robe to put on. “Yes, I have dreams, too. We all do. I don’t think we really understand them, though. Are we supposed to? Dreams are just part of our imagination, aren’t they?”
Ketzah took the robe and blinked. “Maybe. But what if they’re not?”
“What if they’re not?! Ketzah, how silly! What else would they be? Something our minds make up, nothing more. Don’t be bothered by them. Just enjoy them when they’re amusing. Now, come. Get dressed.”
“Yes, Mother.” He said no more and readied for school, deciding he would tell Master Atel, for had he not told him of another dream, years ago, and had he not seemed interested?
* *
After morning lessons of mathematics, physics and botany, Atel and Ketzah stopped to eat at midday, preparing their table with bread, fruit, cheese and grape juice. This daily ritual and accompanying close talks were a refreshing break from lessons. They pulled up their stools and sat, Atel taking a bit of each item and placing it on his plate while Ketzah poured the juice into blue ceramic cups.
“Master Atel,” said Ketzah, “do you remember a long time ago when I told you about a dream I had?”
Atel stared at his cup and thought for a few moments, crinkles forming around his eyes. He looked up. “Yes, Little Brother. You told me of a place of volcanoes and forests, large animals and people much different than those of today. Is that correct?”
“Yes, it is. You remember it well after all these years. I had another one like it last night.”
Atel folded his hands in his lap. “Please, tell me about it.”
Ketzah placed the pitcher of juice on the table and stared at it. “I’m the same boy I was in the other dream. But he’s older now—thirteen, like me. His name is Edak. He’s traveling by ship from his country, called Mu, to Atlan. He’ll be going to school in Aryaz.”
He looked at Atel. “Everything looks different in the dream. Aryaz looks nothing like it does in real life. And of course, there’s no such place as Mu. Even the ship doesn’t look the way ships do. Dreams are funny sometimes, I guess.”
His eyes returned to the pitcher. “Anyway, during the trip, a horrible bird—gigantic!—bigger than I’ve ever seen or heard of—flies off with Edak’s friend from the ship. Edak sensed the bird approaching but no one else could.”
He looked to see Atel’s reaction. The old man sat in rapt silence, which heartened Ketzah to continue. “The school was different than a real school. It was in a man’s house and there were only about seven students.”
He tried to pick out more scenes. “I think that’s all there is. I don’t know why it made such an impression on me. I guess it wasn’t so important.”
He looked up. “What do you think, sir?”
Atel sat thinking: The lad knows much of the ancient world. Why does he dream it now? At last he said, “Remember those dreams, Ketzah. Edak appears to be part of you. I will think on this, and we will talk more in the coming days.” He lifted his cup to drink.
“Master Atel!” Ketzah blurted. “Is there nothing you can tell me now? I hunger to know!”
Atel replaced the cup and stared at Ketzah sternly. “I would explain if I could, but I don’t know what to make of your dreams. I will discuss this with the other priests. Please exercise patience.”
Ketzah flushed. “I’m sorry, Master. I lost control of myself. I won’t do it again.”
Atel softened. “When things happen to us which we cannot explain, it is normal to be curious. Do not punish yourself for wanting answers. Be assured, I have taken note of your dreams and will consult the others as to their meaning.”
Ketzah ate quietly, half-ashamed that he had raised his voice to Atel, yet a little satisfied that he had. Now Atel knew how these dreams bothered him, and he had gotten a small idea of Atel’s interest. But what did Atel know that he wasn’t telling Ketzah? It was annoying.
* *
The late afternoon sun shone, casting shadows which made long-legged silhouettes for Ketzah and Falima to follow and causing the two to appear gilded. This walk was always a pleasant time for them, and Ketzah had lately been drawn more and more to Falima. He studied her walk and the way her robe folded and rippled with each step. She was no longer an awkward child, but a blossoming young woman.
The sun shone from behind her and for a moment she was an ebony goddess framed in a golden aura. Ketzah’s eyes fixed onto her, oblivious to how he must appear.
“Why are you looking at me so?” she asked, mildly annoyed.
Ketzah smiled sheepishly. “Because you’re pretty.”
“Ketzah! What are you up to?”
Ketzah flushed. He couldn’t explain, so changed the subject. “Falima, I’ve had some odd dreams. I don’t know what they mean.”
“What kind of dreams?”
“Strange ones, in another time and place. Everything is different, yet...yet it seems the same as here and now. Does that make sense?”
“A little. Sometimes I dream I’m at home or school, but it doesn’t look like home and school. Is it something like that? Describe them.”
He told her what he remembered, both the content and what his feelings were. First the one of long ago when he first met Edak, then last night’s.
When he had told her everything he could, he waited.
Falima walked silently, thinking. Finally she asked, “Have you told Master Atel?”
“Yes. He’s interested but he’s so cryptic. Today he said he’d talk more about them in the future. But I want to know what they’re about now. What do you think?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. They’re eerie, almost scary…I’m glad you told me. I’ll think about them tonight. Maybe there’s a reason you have them.”
“Thank you for not laughing at me.”
“I’d never laugh at you for something that matters. I only tease you when we’re playing. I thought you knew that.”
“I guess I do. That’s why you’re my best friend.”
Falima smiled. A breeze blew a perfume of citrus blossoms through the air. She brushed a wisp of hair out of her face and adjusted her headband, all the while watching Ketzah. “You’re staring at me again,” she said. “Am I funny looking?”
“No, you’re pretty.”
“Silly Ketzah.” She kept walking, her smile now shy.
Ketzah cleared his throat. “Falima, it’s time I must tell you something.”
She noticed him admiring her and stared self-consciously at the road.
“Falima, you’ve been my best friend since we were eight years old. I’m more comfortable with you than anyone else.”
Falima blushed, her eyes staring holes into the ground.
“Falima, I want to always share my life with you. I...do you think...”
His mind reeled. Is this right? What if she says no? What would I do? Well, here goes. “When we’re old enough, would you marry me? I think I’ve always loved you and I know I always will.”
Falima stopped short and gaped at him. She stayed that way for an eternal moment, then said, “Yes.” Her smile returned. “Yes, of course. I’ll be your wife, forever!”
Ketzah shyly reached out for her arm. She took his hand and for a brief, spectacular moment there was nothing else on Earth but Falima and Ketzah and their clasped hands. Then the world returned and with a wonderful, terrible, heart-pounding, ecstatic awkwardness they silently continued to Falima’s house.
The black columns of her home came into view and they slowed down. Then they walked up the steps and Ketzah squeezed her hand before letting go, lest her parents open the door and discover the sweethearts.
Time Odyssey: The Soul's Memory; Part I, Dreamtime Page 7
