The Best of Talebones

by edited by Patrick Swenson

  The crowds were very great today. They sang odes of praise to the Sky Lords and their all-powerful God, as they always do. How patient the mighty Sky Lord is! He took no offense at the delay of passing through so large a throng, nor at the ineptitude of my people’s unschooled praise. He only desires that we should worship his God rather than his person. I do not understand the Sky Lords. It is a terrifying honor to serve them.

  As the Sky Lord is the only one of his kind presently residing in Ixtiu, I need not offend his dignity by identifying him with some inadequate but pronounceable appellation of my own devising. There are other Sky Lords. They tell us they come not from the sky, but from another world beyond the sky. They tell us there are many other worlds, and that we and they alike once dispersed from the same long-forgotten world of origin on voyages centuries long. Perhaps it is true. Our traditional tales recount something similar. Our legends presume a supernatural mode of travel, but the Sky Lords have demonstrated the error of this presumption.

  The Sky Lords tell us they have undertaken their long and arduous voyage to teach us the love of the True God. Here, in this great realm we know as Tollisayuyu, there are presently nearly three hundred Sky Lords.

  I fear the ancient sacred language may be forgotten, as it is now banned with all things of our former vain religion. I hope I commit no sacrilege before the True God to translate the name of our home in case its meaning is later lost. Tollisayuyu signifies in our former sacred language: The Land The Sun And The River Cause To Bear Life.

  The Sky Lord turned left upon entering the Court. He did not stop, as the priestesses who alone once used this portal would have, to pay reverence before the formerly sacred fountain that rises in the entrance hall. The Sky Lord’s chamber is a former storage room that only two years ago contained nothing more valuable than cleaning implements and the coarser grade of wool used to weave garments for the Sacred Virgins’ servants.

  I turned right to interview and prepare the prisoner. His cell was once the sleeping quarters of a temple kennel-master. It was a spiritual relief to me, if a sad duty, to pass from the once-forbidden precinct to the temple animal grounds where it was always permitted for men to enter.

  Most of the rooms of the Sacred Virgins themselves now stand empty. The Sky Lord rails daily at my ignorant people to set up a market there, but as yet few have complied. The temple has, of course, been destroyed, both to punish its vain idolatry, and that the Sky Lords might extract the gold that was mixed with the mortar in its construction.

  The accused criminal was a young man named Kusisi. I did not know him, but I knew of his family, as they were well-respected Mourners. When I arrived at the cell, I found Kusisi’s father, Kusila, with him. This was somewhat surprising. Mourners have always been among the most devout. Hardly any of them have yet abjured our ancient vain religion. With no priest to sing the prayer of entry, Kusila must have felt half-blasphemous to enter even the former kennel of the Sacred Virgins. Times change for us all.

  I knew the father and son might not have another opportunity to speak, so I refrained from interrupting. There was more than an hour until the trial. I had little enough to say in preparation.

  “How can you shame our house so?” said Kusila.

  “She is my sister.”

  “You have no sister.”

  “I could not stand by to see Ehrsipo defiled by the hands of strangers.”

  “You must never speak that name!” Kusila shouted.

  “Father,” said Kusisi, “I may not have long to speak at all.”

  “It is shame enough a son of mine has neglected his duties,” said Kusila.

  “To Mourn our dead king?” said Kusisi.

  “Yes,” said Kusila. He stood straight and proud, a slender, ascetic man of perhaps fifty-five.

  “Our world is dead,” said Kusisi. “Our living king is a king no more. And you worry about a king who died when I was so young I do not even clearly remember his face?”

  Kusila gasped. Then he slapped his son’s face hard. Kusisi bowed his head, obviously terribly ashamed.

  “You are no son of mine,” Kusila shouted. “No son of mine could ever speak so of his obligation to the living Son of Amarez whose reign gave him birth.”

  “Amarez is as dead as his majesty, Ko-la Amarez,” said Kusisi. There was a great sadness in his voice. “Or at least as deposed as his majesty, Ko-ney Amarez.”

  Kusila shuddered. “I have no son,” he said, his voice one of horror. “Why do I talk to a blasphemous stranger who looks upon the faces of Sacred Virgins? My house is utterly disgraced.”

  “Father!” Kusisi cried out.

  “A whore who defiles the name of my daughter, once honored to enter the Sacred Service, walks about in public selling cloth like a common woman.”

  “She sells cloth to live. Would you rather she sold her body?”

  “She has sold her body. She disgraced our family’s name the day she walked out of the Palace of Virgins alive.”

  “The Sky Lords drove her out, drove them all out,” said Kusisi. Tears ran down his cheeks. “She had no choice.”

  “She could have died performing the duties to which she was dedicated,” replied the father. His voice was ice. “She has committed unspeakable blasphemy, and so have you.”

  “And now I will die, and she will continue selling cloth for the means to eat to those not too proud to buy from the dispossessed brides of a dispossessed God.”

  “Better neither of you nor I either were ever born!” Kusila shook with rage. “I hoped you might remember your shame, might beg forgiveness for your sin while you still can. I see you are utterly drunk with your willful depravity.”

  “Father,” said Kusisi, “I am terribly sorry I have hurt you.”

  “How dare you snivel at me like that,” Kusila shouted. He slapped the younger man’s face again. Then he spat on the floor in disgust. “I go now,” he said. “I have duties to perform.”

  He stalked out of the room. The guard let him pass.

  “To sing praises of a dead king while the world he ruled is in ruin?” Kusisi called after him.

  Kusila did not answer. The insignia on my lapel brought him up short, however. Though I had never served the royal person, my rank as a royal interpreter required his acknowledgement.

  Kusila kissed the gathered fingertips of his right hand, then spread them quickly to the air. This was the customary salute to the royal insignia. It meant: I honor and acknowledge the emblem of the king, Son of Amarez Who daily makes the Sun and the River to give us life.

  This salute has not yet been forbidden, but it is common knowledge the Sky Lords disapprove of it. In a generation, I think it will be forgotten. That is why I explain it here. It is my hope this record will inform people of what was once commonplace but will soon be no more.

  I returned the salute. It made me uncomfortable to do so in the presence of the guard, but he paid no attention. The Sky Lords permit courtesy to the ignorant, especially to upstanding citizens such as a professional Mourner. Under the circumstances, I could not refuse him the acknowledgement he believed due.

  Kusila went out by what was once the kennel-keeper’s door. I knew he would not attend the trial. The trial would be held in a former Weaving Chamber of the Sacred Virgins. I was thankful Kusila did not ask me how I could commit the blasphemy of entering the forbidden precincts. It feels like blasphemy to me too, but when sacred duties conflict, I think — I hope — it is correct to serve the will of the greater God.

  I nodded to the guard and entered Kusisi’s cell. The guard knew why I was there and merely nodded back.

  Kusisi sat slumped on his bed. He was slim like his father, with intelligent, anguished eyes. The cell was simply but adequately furnished: a sturdy single bed, three comfortable chairs, a table, good light and air.

  “I am Enhessa,” I said. “I will be your translator. I have been ordered to speak to you in preparation for your trial.”

  Kusisi sighed. He sat some
what straighter and looked me in the eye. “If you must,” he said.

  “Do you understand the crime of which you are accused?” I asked.

  “I understand that the world has gone crazy,” Kusisi replied, “that good is evil, compassion is blasphemy, and effort does only harm.”

  “If you renounce the false faith and plead ignorance you might be spared,” I said.

  “What faith?” he said. “I believe in nothing.”

  “The Sky Lords do not mean your sister harm.”

  “Then why did they rape her soul and leave her body to sell cloth that should have been woven only for the glory of Amarez?”

  “The Sky Lords teach the True Faith. Surely you must see that their God is greatest?”

  “I see that their God is evil,” said Kusisi.

  “I will speak as well for you in court as I can,” I said. “I will try to save your life. Do not be too proud.”

  “Proud!” said Kusisi. “It disgusts me that I still live.”

  “I will do what I can,” I said.

  Kusisi looked to the floor and did not answer.

  I heard footsteps in the corridor. I looked up. A young woman named Ahcohsey came to the door. She was one who had learned enough of the Sky Lords’ strange tongue to attend our Sky Lord in simple matters. “The Sky Lord requires your service,” she said.

  “Of course,” I answered. I rose to accompany her to the Sky Lord. “I will do what I can,” I said again to Kusisi. He did not reply.

  The Sky Lords are much like us in appearance. It is said our women can even bear their children. This is a wonder. Perhaps we really do have a common genesis as they declare. The Sky Lords are hairier than we and thicker, though that may be only because they eat so much more meat. They are of much the same height as we, and while there is more variety among them of skin and hair color, many of them have the same ruddy complexion and light brown hair as my people do.

  Our Sky Lord has very hairy arms, and though he shaves daily, his face often seems shadowed by late afternoon. He sat now with a document. He looked up when I entered.

  “A fascinating script,” the Sky Lord said. “I really wish I had time to learn it.”

  “You honor us,” I said.

  “No doubt,” said he. “I’m given to understand this thing’s important. Can you translate it?”

  “Certainly,” I said. I took the document. I saw at once that it was from the monastery of Ez-Amarez-Coya, Mother/Wife of our superceded God. Ez-Amarez-Coya is also the name of the great lake high in the Elacain Mountains in the far West, that is the source of the River and on whose shore the monastery stands. I looked over the document rapidly. It was written in the traditional religious manner, of course.

  “Do you wish a literal translation, my Lord,” I asked, “or shall I explain what traditional terms that may be unfamiliar to you refer to?”

  “Just tell me what they’re saying for now,” he answered. “Later, if we have time, perhaps you can explain the nuances. I really do like to learn about your people’s ways.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” I answered. “You are most magnanimous to condescend so.”

  It has never ceased to amaze me that the Sky Lords, who have the power to mow down an entire army in an instant or to blast a temple to dust, take so human an interest in our simple doings.

  “Never mind that,” the Sky Lord said. “What’s the thing say?”

  I cleared my throat. “It says: ‘We have not received the Sacred Garments of the season nor the Sanctified Corn. Therefore we are at a loss to perform the Ceremony of Breaking Waters. How shall we inform you of the Birth?’”

  “What on earth is that supposed to mean?” the Sky Lord said.

  “It’s the Ceremony they perform in the spring, my Lord, when the ice dam breaks and the lake surges into the river. In their childish ancient faith it is like the breaking of waters at a birth, the birth of the new year to them.”

  “Your people’s idolatry is truly fascinating,” the Sky Lord said. “It should be recorded, if only as a curiosity of the Devil’s wiles.”

  I think I blushed then, but he did not notice. Might his statement constitute sanction for my chronicle? I dare hope it was so intended.

  “Tell them,” he went on, “that the Ceremony is abolished. It is a vain and wicked faith, and they must learn not to conduct such practices any more. The monastery is to be disbanded at once, and anyone caught conducting this foolish Ceremony will be severely punished.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” I replied. And I surely blanched then at the awesome might of the Sky Lord’s God. “I will send the message.”

  “Good,” said the Sky Lord. “You do your duty creditably. I want it proclaimed with the day’s announcements too. This idolatry must cease entirely. Tell the people this vain Ceremony is abolished.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” I said.

  “Thank you,” said he. “Well, I suppose we’d better get this trial over with. I hate these things. People suffer, but they have to learn respect for the True Faith.”

  “It is strange for them, my Lord,” I said. “So much is new. I know many tongues and have spoken to many peoples. Yet even I am daily amazed at the greatness of the Sky Lords and of their God.”

  “As well you should be,” he said. “Now let’s get on and done with that trial.”

  He rose to walk, just like any ordinary man of the people, from his chamber to the former Sacred Weaving Hall where the trial was to be conducted. I accompanied him. The prisoner was already there when we entered. He stood, his head bowed in shame.

  The Sky Lord sat and told me to read the charge, in both our language and his. I did so:

  “Kusisi, former professional Mourner of the vain former faith, is accused of hiding a recalcitrant priestess of the vain former idolatry and providing her with contraband objects for use in the practice of this abolished idolatry.”

  “She’s not a priestess,” said Kusisi. “She’s a Sacred Virgin.”

  I saw no need to translate, but the Sky Lord asked what he had said, so I did.

  “Never mind these quibbles,” he replied. “The crime is in the willful practice of idolatry.”

  “The Sky Lords’ God abhors all idolatry,” I explained to Kusisi.

  “Does the Sky Lords’ God require the shaming of Dedicated Women?” Kusisi replied.

  I sighed and translated.

  “Tell him I will not tolerate idolatrous insolence,” said the Sky Lord. His face was very stern.

  I translated.

  The Sky Lord looked to the prisoner. “Now what were you doing anyhow?” he asked.

  I translated again, though, of course, I knew the answer perfectly well myself.

  “Would you withhold the Sacred Corn that is the food of Ez-Amarez-Coya?” Kusisi answered. “Would you eat of Her bounty and give nothing back?”

  “He was bringing the woman, who is his sister as well as a former Sacred Virgin, the corn to be blessed for the Spring Ceremony,” I said to the Sky Lord.

  “Is this the same Spring Ceremony as in that document?” the Sky Lord asked.

  “Yes, my Lord,” I replied. “It is the principal occupation of the former faith at this time of year. All hearts would be turned to the rites of spring as the planting season approaches. It is their traditional belief that Ez-Amarez-Coya must eat Her Sacred Corn for strength before Her Waters Break that the life of the new crop shall be strong.”

  “These superstitions will cease!” the Sky Lord declared. I could see he was greatly annoyed.

  “Yes, my Lord,” I said.

  “Here, then, is my judgement,” the Sky Lord continued. “In sympathy for the natural feeling of a brother for his sister, I shall spare the life of this offender. He shall perform four years penal servitude at a location to be determined at my secretary’s convenience. After that he shall be free, provided he has learned utterly to renounce his vain and idolatrous religion, which he must understand is entirely and forever abolished.”

 
I translated this judgement to Kusisi.

  “Our lives are abolished,” Kusisi replied.

  I translated and wondered at the Sky Lord’s mercy, equal only to the might of his God, for he replied to this insult: “He will learn better as he learns the True Faith.”

  “Yes, Lord,” I said, and I translated.

  “Now,” said the Sky Lord, “I want you to proclaim this judgment so the people will learn the will of the True God. It is not the desire of the True God, nor of us His servants, to hurt your people. The True God is a God of great Love Who has sent us here only to teach your people His Love. However, your people bring harm upon themselves to continue their intolerable idolatry. We have been patient, but they must desist. The Spring Ceremony is forbidden and abolished. They must not engage in its practice. They must utterly abandon its blasphemous rites. That is my judgement. I have spoken.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” I replied. My knees trembled in awe at the great power of the Sky Lord’s God.

  “Good,” the Sky Lord said. “I shall retire briefly to my chamber. Then I shall join you at the portal while you make the announcement.”

  The Sky Lord rose and walked out of the hall. The prisoner was led away. I walked slowly to the entrance of the no-longer forbidden former Palace of Sacred Virgins, who are now scattered among the general populace. Perhaps some even stood among the huge crowd gathered as always at the foot of the steps to hear the day’s proclamation.

  The people murmured among themselves. Some sang. Many prayed. I stood looking over their heads, across the rooftops of Ixtiu below the mound on which the former Palace and present Court stands.

  The clear spring air was fresh and warm. I could see the corn fields where they spread for miles around the city, newly turned, awaiting the seed. The wondrous River that, with the Sun, brings life to Ixtiu and all our land, sparkled in the brilliant sunshine. Beyond the western horizon I knew were the great Elacain Mountains from which the River is born. I wondered at it all and at the world of Amarez Who made all of it and Who ruled no more.

  The Sky Lord joined me at the head of the steps. The crowd became silent as every ear strained to hear what word the Sky Lord would give them through my mouth today. The Sky Lord nodded to me to begin, and I stepped forward and spoke: