by J. H. Hayes
"Father?" she whispered, after another long moment.
"Yes, child."
"I was wondering... In all the stories we have of the Ta'ar, there is no mention of this..."
"Of what?" he answered.
"Of this..." she pointed to the altar where what was left of her mother was quickly disappearing. Then she pointed at the basket in front of them. "Of that."
"Ahhh," Azerban sighed.
"Why do we honor customs the Ta'ar never taught us?" she asked.
He sighed again before answering. "Those are good questions... the answers require much meditation. But I can tell you almost everyone has the same sense of repulsion when first seeing this, especially with a loved one. Your feelings aren’t wrong, Azaria."
She was surprised her father knew so precisely how she felt. It hadn't been implied in her question, but he knew anyway. She wondered if he felt the same. The realization comforted her somehow. But he hadn't really answered her question. "From all the stories, I don’t remember the Ta’ar ever saying we could reach Them this way," she said. "How do we know this is the path to Them?"
He pondered deeply before answering, "Not every Knowledge They gave us has been put into story or song. There is wisdom the Ta'araki have chosen to keep hidden."
She hadn't thought of this. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable explanation and she felt a little childish having asked the question in the first place. Of course the Ta'araki would have their secrets. If one wanted to explore that world, one needed to dedicate one's life to the Order - a proposition which had never held any interest for her, except maybe as a carver. Azaria decided her father's answer was good enough. "I understand," she said. "Thank you, father."
Azerban was gratified to put an end to her probing questions, but also felt a slight pang of guilt. He sensed his daughter's skepticism hadn't been fully aired, that she was suppressing her curiosity. In his experience, truth came from such probing. And although he may have made peace with the ways of the Ta'ar long ago, she hadn't yet. She wasn't Ta'araki, but she still had a right to wonder. She's a smart girl, he thought proudly - perhaps she will discover some insight I’ve never achieved. "Azaria, I hope you know it’s okay to have questions. You shouldn't feel guilty if some aspects of the new ways don't make sense to you."
"But isn't it wrong to question the Ta'araki?" she asked. "Or the Ta'ar? Shouldn't we consent to Their ways, despite our objections?"
"Yes... and no," he started, not knowing how to explain himself without confusing her even more. "It is wrong to question the Ta'araki directly. To challenge them, especially in front of others. But it isn't wrong to have questions."
Azaria was thoroughly confounded. "I don't understand..." she said. She felt he was contradicting himself.
He let out a hearty chuckle. "Yes, I know I'm being unclear. How do I explain? Questions are okay. Confrontation is wrong, especially with one's superiors, and all Ta'araki are your superiors along with your elders, as you know. It's good to have questions though, to struggle with them, in your own head, and to seek guidance from the Ta'araki. Does that help any?"
"I guess so..." Azaria answered. He seemed to be saying it was acceptable to talk to the Ta'araki about one's questions as long as one was respectful. "But I still don't understand why the questions are allowed, when I'm supposed to accept that you know things that I cannot. What happens when my questions are about something that you keep hidden?"
"Ahh, I see why you are confused. Of course there will be moments when the Ta'araki will not be able to fully answer and that you must simply trust in the greater wisdom. But that is what faith is. You see, faith is belief, despite an absence of truth. If there is already absolute truth, there is no need for faith."
Azaria was beginning to comprehend. "Are you saying that even if we don't fully understand, we must still trust in the Ta'araki, because that's what faith is?"
"Yes, that's a good way of putting it," he answered. "And I would go even further. Those who have faith, despite their skepticism, are the blessed of the Ta'ar. For they have chosen to believe. But those who accept fully, despite a lack of truth, without even allowing for skepticism... well, I would say they’ve been touched by Luna."
Azaria laughed at his reference. "Like Fahim," she volunteered. He had chuckled with her, but it ended abruptly and she regretted the comment. She knew it was a sore subject for him, one he'd been avoiding. But she still had many questions about what had happened when Jesenia died. She'd hoped her joke would open the door to further discussion - and to some answers.
"Yes, Fahim was very resolute in her beliefs. In the end, she may have been under Luna's influence. But I think a battle was being waged within her," Azerban eventually answered. Azaria was surprised when he finally did and, afraid interrupting him would change his mind, listened in silence as he went on. "Fahim was obsessed with witnessing the return of the Ta'ar. In her last winters, it was the only thing that drove her. Every act, every decision, was guided by that one desire. I think deep down, she may have doubted the Ta'ar. Her father was a great Ta'araki. Her mother openly questioned his belief, preferring instead to honor the Mother. When their differences drove them to break, Fahim was still young and had to choose. She set aside her mother's beliefs, siding instead with her father. Although she loved her mother deeply, it eventually caused a rift between them, a chasm that hadn't closed when her mother died. Maybe she needed to know she’d made the right decision, that it was all more than just a story. And so she did everything in her power to seduce Them to return, so she could have resolution before she passed. I believe she would’ve gone even further if allowed. Her end was a good thing."
Azaria sat in rapt silence, almost disbelieving her father was sharing so much. When she was sure he would say no more, she asked, "And so that is why Jesenia was sacrificed? As an offering to the Ta'ar to entice Them to return to us?"
"Jesenia's death was an act of evil, Azaria," he said. He calmed himself before continuing. "I only hope we’ll be forgiven."
She was disturbed by her father's tone. Clearly he was in turmoil, but more than that she had the feeling he was truly frightened. Her mind turned back to the Summer Solstice, when she had spied on him and the other Ta'araki and watched Fahim murder the Kebar. She wanted to know if that man was also a sacrifice. But to find out she'd have to admit to her own transgression. "Father, I have a confession to make."
Azerban stared into the distance, wondering what was on his daughter's mind. It could be a number of things. Over her short lifespan, she'd done many things she thought he was unaware of. But he believed he knew what she would say - and wished she wouldn't. "What is that, child?"
"Last summer, on the Solstice, I was out hunting when I saw people at the Great Temple-" she started.
"Azaria," he interrupted. "I know what you're going to say. I know what you saw. I’ve always known."
Her stomach churned. "But why didn't you say anything about it, father?"
"Because I didn't want to admit to my crimes any more than you did."
---
Azaria sat cross-legged on her furs, staring up at the wicker basket sitting on its shelf. It was given a place of prominence, the other baskets moved further back to make room. She was happy now things were done the way they were. It was nice to have her mother so close, so accessible. She never felt the desire to look inside, but she'd often run her hand against the outside surface, caressing the interweaving pattern of reed fibers with the pads of her fingers. The feel was somehow comforting. If the odor was particularly offensive, she'd open it enough to add some fragrant dried flowers or herbs, but never enough to see what was inside.
The rest of Zephia's remains were buried shallowly in the back of the cave. The semi-frozen soil prevented any lingering stench from rising up. When Azaria’s hearth left for Boar Camp in the spring, the bones would remain entombed where they lay, waiting peacefully for their return.
Winters were never particularly enjoyable. Even for the y
oung and strong, who had little trouble thriving, boredom came quickly and only deepened as the winter moons slowly wandered across the sky. It was fought off with games, socializing and craft, but one could only weave so many baskets, shape so many tips, or dye so many furs before they too lost their appeal. The onslaught of colds, flus and more serious ailments added to the torment. As if that weren't enough misery, as more moons passed and foodstocks ran dry, the lack of variety made meals dull and unappetizing. It was no wonder so many thinned down, bone beginning to show through sallow skin.
Azaria had not escaped the fate of many. She also felt less than whole, nursing a slight fever and an annoying cough that seemed intent on persisting. She’d lost weight too. The joy of fresh, flavorful food was now like an evaporating dream.
The one point of light during the season was the Winter Solstice Celebration. There would be music and dancing, games and socialization, flirting and feasting. A sufficient amount of fare and poison were saved all winter for the revered event. It was perhaps their most anticipated celebration, not because it was the most extravagant, but because of the wretchedness all had been enduring for so long. Moods lightened in the suns leading up to the feast, with the promise of diversion from desolation, of indulgence and gratification replacing worry and monotony.
Azaria didn't care. She wasn't looking forward to the feast. In fact, she was only peripherally aware of its impending arrival. In winters past, she’d be happily preparing with her mother, as infected with expectation as anyone else. But now, her loss had her in the grip of a deep depression. Reminders of her mother's absence only served to aggravate her despondency. She was stuck in a slump, performing the toils of habitual life without really living. Azerban and Quzo were also dealing with their own severe anguish. None of them had yet been able to shake off their woes enough to step up for the other two. Ironically, a feast was exactly what they needed to break the spell, but none of them had the palate for it.
It wasn't as if Azaria was distressed over the coming event - she simply didn't care one way or another. She didn't care about the games or the dancing or anything else. She was incapable of joy. She wasn't interested in the food - she couldn't taste anything she put in her mouth anyway. She definitely wasn't looking forward to the socializing. She didn't know what to say to anyone and she'd realized earlier no one knew what to say to her. She didn't care if she participated or remained alone.
The latter wasn't an option, however. The celebration would be held in the lower caves. Most of the activities would take place in Ta'araki's grand space, which also served as a gathering area for such occasions. But Azerban's adjacent shelter and another on the lower level would be used for overfill and to store some of the extra food, poison and other items. Azaria knew she'd probably run into Daneel, and Yumineh and Dogahn. But she didn't care about that either. She'd given up on all of them. She couldn't feel love or hate, anger or abandonment. She couldn't feel anything anymore, except depression and dread dissatisfaction. And that she missed her mother.
Azerban also was having trouble getting into the spirit. He’d been in a rut, performing only what duties were absolutely necessary, even skirting some, leaving them for Hadir to take up. Takur let him get away with it, at least for a while, empathetic to his underling’s heavy loss.
Despite Takur’s patience, Azerban was losing status. Everyone knew by now he was no longer fully in Takur's favor, and some of the Ta'araki from other camps had appeared openly hostile with him toward the end of the Summer Gathering - especially the pretty, strong one from Fox Camp. Many were impressed with his negotiations with the Kebar and hoped for a successful outcome the following season. But others were skeptical or downright angry the attackers were let off so easily. It was no secret Takur had his doubts and Sakon's clan also. Azerban shirking his Ta'araki duties did not help. His daughter had also lost status since her performance at the Summer Solstice games. Although everyone understood the past several moons had been hard on her, her behavior recently was less than expected. Many were whispering about awkward conversations they'd had with her. It soon became well known she was becoming something of a loner, with few close friends left outside her hearth.
---
By the morning of the Solstice, Azerban's sense of responsibility had finally dug in. He worked a bit of Ta'araki magic, burying his emotional distress enough to at least get through the festivities. He was in and out all morning, assisting Takur and Hadir with final preparations. Quzo's youthful resilience and need for play and social interaction helped him overcome his despair. As soon as he heard the first carefree voices from the children arriving at Ta'araki's adjacent cave, he ran off to take up with them.
Azaria though was feeling worse than ever, a condition complicated by a persistent sore throat and sporadic cough. She had no desire to leave her cave, but with some gentle urging Azerban convinced her to throw on a clean tunic and join them.
As they entered Takur’s cave, she felt like a stranger. The heat of staring eyes turning toward her burned stronger than a blazing hearth. She resisted meeting them, instead letting her gaze follow her father. As he made his greetings, she followed dutifully, nodding courteously but also quickly looking away.
They helped themselves to the many offerings and ate together, continuing to greet those who approached. Azaria filled their fists with some sort of sweet tasting poison and entertained herself by slowly sipping at her drink and by repeatedly searching for Dogahn, before ripping her eyes away whenever she found him. Eventually, Shaledar announced the games would begin. Azaria was beyond relieved, as it meant she'd have something to focus her attention on without feeling uncomfortable for staring.
She watched as the children competed in the various games - throwing small stones into a distant basket, racing to attach a flint tip to a prepared shaft, and decorating avian bones with several hues of dye. They were given small shells and beads for participating. Winners and losers were not distinguished. During the early ages, effort was more highly praised than success. Natu young were taught that contribution and collaboration within the community was more valuable than personal achievement. In the stone-in-the-basket game, the children did not take turns. Instead they formed a large circle around the basket and all threw together. Totals were not summed for individuals, but only for the group as a whole. Their results were judged against previous attempts. If they improved they were given special prizes. Of course, no one could prevent some individuals from bragging they contributed more than the rest, but those children were generally ignored or praised less than those who congratulated each other instead of boasting. Pomposity was weaned away at an early age.
Azaria found she enjoyed watching the children play their games. Seeing the smiles on their little faces helped lift the engulfing fog. She was aware of the difference in her mood and thought the poison might also be having an effect. Noticing her cup was nearly empty, she decided on another. She lifted it up to down the remaining contents, but in her eagerness a small amount went down the wrong pipe. She broke into a fit of coughing - exacerbated by the cough she’d not been able to shed - that drew the attention of those near her. Some backed off, leaving her segregated and flustered.
Embarrassed, Azaria fled the corner of the cave she'd been perched in and made her way over to the drink table. She imagined every head turning toward her as she walked, but in reality few were close enough to hear her fit. Most everyone was occupied with their own activities. She filled her cup and moved off to the other side of the cave, again taking up a position where she could watch the children play. She was beginning to enjoy herself again, when Malena and Azul greeted her.
"Azaria, I didn't see you earlier. I was wondering where you were. How are you?" Malena asked with a bright smile.
She was so happy to see them she struggled to keep tears from falling. She hugged them both hard. "Malena! Azul! How are you?"
"Good!" Malena said, delighted to see her friend in a better mood. "How are you doing?"
<
br /> "I'm fine, I guess... I mean it's been really hard lately, but we're all getting through-" She was interrupted by a short cough, as a lingering bit of poison was still tickling the back of her throat. "I didn't even want to come earlier, to tell you the truth-" Another hacking fit interrupted her again, "...but I'm so glad I did. The children are so much fun - I'm getting jealous watching them. I wish I was their age again. They don't have any worries. Life is so simple for them." Azaria didn't realize it, but the poison had affected her more than she expected. Her body was not healthy and unable to handle the drink as she was used to. Her cough-ridden rambling had caught Malena off guard, and Azul even more. After a few more polite exchanges they invented an excuse and took their leave.
Azaria wondered if her hacking had scared them away. It certainly seemed they’d left in a hurry. She knew no one really wanted to be too close to someone with a cough, especially in the winter moons. She was thinking about returning to her cave, feeling deeply self-conscious, when out of nowhere someone else surprised her.
Daneel had been watching Azaria since her arrival with her father. She found it hard not to feel sorry for her former friend. She’d watched as Azaria awkwardly followed her father around and later stood by herself watching the children's games. What has happened between us? We used to be best friends. Now I won't even talk to her. I know she tried to make amends, but I was just so angry. But whatever she did, she doesn't deserve this. Azaria's usually sweet and kind and so much fun. She always cared about me so much. I miss her. She'd do anything for me. She just made a mistake. I love her.
