Voices in Crystal

by Mary R Woldering

  Filled with charm

  In lips she is sweet;

  In her mouth there is life

  The star appears

  Rejoicing is full.

  Faces popped up from their rooftop beds around the courtyard. Some people sat to listen, awed by the power and clarity of his voice as it built and soared up to the moon and stars. Tonight the sojourner felt as if it would take so little effort for him to leap into the sky and follow his song all the way to the stars, but he wanted to carry Naibe with him. Because he had seen Houra again, the song was for he, tonight. The song was also for Ari who had tried to defend them from the hidden thing and for Deka because she was beginning to understand her part in all of this. It would be many nights before he held them after tonight. It was as if he was girding himself for inevitable battle. The women would carry on as women did, waiting about the fires and camps when the men went off into their uncertain destinies.

  The sojourner merchant had assured Etum Addi late this afternoon while they were closing the spice stand for the evening and securing the goods, that while he was away visiting the priests, the women would be warm company and tireless assistants in his business. Even if they weren’t doing so now, Marai felt certain Djerah’s family would be back and would eventually assist him in the work too! In time, Marai would tell his new companions about all of the wonders that had befallen him across the river. He didn’t know if he would be gone longer than two weeks. It was even possible he could be turned around in just a day, rejected. So little of the children’s original mission made sense after the priest had levied whatever it was on them today.

  Tonight, he was quite alone. The women, still upset and exhausted from the events of the afternoon, had not come up to the roof to sleep. They were inside despite the heat. He had wanted to be with them, but knew they would wake the moment he settled beside them. Naibe would start to cry again. Ariennu would argue with him about his leaving and Deka would begin to draw into herself. If he saw that, he would never be able to cross the river in the morning.

  In lips she is sweet;

  In her mouth there is life

  The star appears

  Rejoicing is full.

  Marai sang the last few lines of his song again. This time it was meant as a lullaby to all of the women who had brought him great joy. After a while, he sat on the edge of the roof at the opening in the brick rail where the ladder was tethered for access. He had brought the box containing the Children of Stone up to the roof tonight, knowing he needed to seek clarity and wisdom from their bright spirits.

  By instinct, the former shepherd sorted out the first eight stones that felt right. Once he lay the stones out carefully on the roof top, he knew he would be able to get a glimpse of what might lie ahead for everyone. Naibe-Ellit was convinced she had seen his death, but he couldn’t feel anything that dire in the future for any of them. He lay the stones out in the four points with four extensions, like a cross between Ashera’s star and a squared off version of the vessel buried in the sand near his old home.

  Marai had already made up his mind not to take the Children of Stone with him on his first journey to the priests, even though it had always been his original assignment. He had never trusted that request. For this visit, he would need to present himself as polite and charming, even though he was in no way accepting of the priest’s supposed hand in the events of the afternoon. If no threat or danger presented itself after he met with these wise men, and they were able to explain their actions, perhaps he could whisper to Ariennu to bring them with her when they were happily reunited.

  Whisper to me, gentle children The sojourner drew a feeling of emptiness though himself in preparation to listen to whatever the Children of Stone would tell him. Well, after so very many of my years, I’m here about to do your will. He shrugged, aware of how weary of this journey he suddenly felt. The wisdom and the gifts they had given him didn’t matter anymore. Now that he was here, he just wanted to embrace his wives and either make his life here, or turn around and go home to whatever the wilderness could offer any of them.

  The gentle evening wind bore Houra’s perfume to him almost before the prism of rainbow light began to arc into an apex above the layout of the Children of Stone. It lingered for only a moment. When it had dissipated, Marai knew Houra had died in her sleep. His powerful spirit had carried the faint echoes of his song floating down to the waterfront and across the great river to her as she lay in her quiet bed in the worker’s camp.

  She died as she had lived...a young girl listening to her beloved brother as he sang to his goddess. In the morning, the young man Djerah would wake and make his sad discovery. He would always remember, when he told her story to his children and to their children through the ages, how peaceful and content her expression had been when he found her.

  Rest in the arms of Her

  Return to the night

  Ascend to the stars, my love...

  Measure our truest home there...

  Damn, oh sweet goddess, why did you allow this? We never really even had a chance...

  Marai felt all of the anguish rise in his throat. It wanted to strangle him.

  He saw the image of Houra as a baby raised up in his Abu’s proud arms. She was his youngest little daughter, born to gladden an old mans heart. All of the memories of his life with her appeared among the stones. Flashing through the gentle rainbow light, she ran, fleet-footed and bright as the summer sun. Her little braids danced so happily when he presented her with a toy he’d whittled out of a dried palm heart. There she was, sweetly coming to haunt him on the plateau when she had begun to bloom into womanhood. There was young Sheb, practical and grim-faced at her wedding feast. The wadi station had been bustling then, and the growing families had been full of the promise of becoming a prosperous clan.

  Marai saw her comforting his first wife Ilara when she was huge and weary with the child that would send her to her doom. Houra had urged the girl to believe that he, though desperately shy a and withdrawn, really did love her

  He saw Houra trying to comfort him as he buried his wife and child in the floor of her kitchen. It was she, not even his own father or brothers who brought him food and talked to him until he stopped wanting to die. She had let his tears of guilt and self-rage play out into gentle, lovers kisses until Sheb had ordered her away from him. He knew that forbidden or not, he could have stolen her away at any time. It would have been so splendid that her life with Sheb would have vanished like early morning fog.

  Her pretty face had been wasted in the sand. She had escaped the thieves with her husband and sons only to grow old and die in the stinking squalor of the poorest market in Ineb Hedj. Even so, she had found more peace and wisdom of the world than he could ever know, even with all of his gifts. She found that courage to hold her family together until she saw his face again just as the Children of Stone had said she would.

  The symbol of the Eye of the Moon shimmered and formed over the images in the stones as the Children of Stone finished relating Houra’s life to him.

  Marai recognized the red and blue etched image he had seen displayed on the priest’s amulet. The priests it seemed, weren’t even going to let him mourn his sister’s death in peace. They were trying to read him through the amulet while he sat contemplating her passing. The sojourner sensed four or five figures, some standing and some seated, lurking and peering up at him like ghostly presences in the bottom of the reflected image. Outlines of large shapes in front of the men broke up their images. Marai smirked a little as he identified the shapes as the beautiful white and pink petaled water sesen seen from beneath. His spirit had become a serpent gliding under the water in the pond. Here on the roof he was looking down. There he was underwater looking up.

  Someone’s hand was gliding that infernal disk-shaped amulet gently on the surface of the water. The men contemplated the sojourner’s thoughts through the clear surface of the smooth pool. In his grief over Houra’s death, Marai had never suspected the
priests would seek him out this very evening. The vision of him they were receiving was being amplified because he was using the stones.

  The priest who had come to the market and later to his home stared with fascinated and self-satisfied eyes.

  “See what this can do tonight?” He turned to an elder, whose face rang through all of Marai’s missing years and re-formed as image of “Djedi” the original teacher with whom he had spoken years ago.

  This is impossible. Marai thought. The sesh who had found him in the market claimed the old lector was dead. There was only one answer. Everything he thought he knew or had learned about this Djedi or his “apprentice” must have been a lie and part of a larger illusion from the very start of his adventures.

  I see you looking at me, priest. Marai sighed, his weariness showing more as disgust than anger. This truth of betrayal was just too much. They weren’t going to let him rest. They weren’t even going to let him grieve in peace. Do you like what you see? My grief as one life ends. She was my blood, damn you...The old woman...I could have been with her in the last moment...helping her let go….were it not for your...cursed enchantment! He picked up one stone in the arrangement and blew sharply on it, blurring the image of the men who were watching. No more! Not tonight...Not ever! In his own strange delight Marai grinned and watched as one of the young attendants, who had been bringing the men tools for contemplation felt the sudden burst of wind, lost his footing and fell into the pool. The roots of the sesen growing in the water magically tangled his feet and shendyt. He shrieked like a woman, struggling but unable to get out of the shallow pool.

  The old priest was on his feet, eyes blazing with unusual menace. His hands were poised like claws as he uttered some kind of reversal to the heka he perceived. It was useless. The younger priest who had visited earlier in the day had already unbuckled his kilt and had dove into the shallow pool to save the panicking youth.

  Once in the water which was no more than mid-chest deep, the priest who was an excellent swimmer, found himself struggling against the unnatural tug of the vegetation and the extra slipperiness of the algae. He knew some force beyond a human one was trying to draw him to the murky bottom along with the boy. The remaining attendant and another faceless servant scooted the heavy carved black table close to the edge of the pool to give the priest something to grab before he too was sucked under by the unknowable force. The poor attendant sank as fast as the priest who struggled to hold both of their heads above the water.

  Marai visualized Naibe’s fear, the betrayal of the vanished afternoon, The missing years while Houra aged and her dying before he could go to her again...

  Why stop? Suck them all into the water and be done with them. Drown all of the rats...

  The inspector priest had his elbow over the edge and grabbed the square table leg with one hand while he cupped the attendant’s chin.

  Why do this? I sent joy to you!... Release us, you bastard...I Wserkaf, of the house of Neferhetepes and Holy Userre command you! The inspector’s thoughts screeched his utterance like a separate identity underneath his invocation of protection.

  The waters calmed. The younger priest stood, stumbled and pulled the youth to the side. Oddly, in all of the struggle only one plant had become dislodged.

  Marai saw the youth sitting on the edge of the pool, shivering more in fright than cold.. The inspector sprawled, choking and winded, on the smooth wet tiles which lined the pool. A gong sounded and more servants attended with toweling and more cups of hot, herbal preparations. A woman’s alarmed voice called out to some of the men.

  See, it begins, Wse The elder voice spoke to the priest who was hastily drying himself and re-dressing, cursing furiously, realizing Marai now had the name he inteded to keep from him.

  I see I was wrong and you were right... He’s not the innocent dolt I had assumed…The elder’s dark, birdlike eyes twinkled in almost amused delight.

  Wserkaf... Marai echoed back, delighted enough, letting an almost evil laughter sound among the men, then fade. I guess that would make you Prince Wserkaf... and a royal son... Oh Goddess this is too good

  So...What of it? You have my birth name now...Happy?

  Marai sensed the priest’s sharp intake of air followed by a flippant shrug.

  “Now you understand me...what you were warned about?” the elder toned sarcastically. Marai remained silent, contemplating.

  The men conversed a little more.

  Women entered, one older and one not quite as old along with their handmaidens. A late refreshment was about to be set. One of them clucked about the mess around the pool and ordered it cleaned and dry as soon as possible.

  Yes, yes, yes, dear...the old priest assured the woman, then returned his attention to the still winded prince. Some men, he told the younger, would accompany him to his home as soon as he had fully recovered and taken his refreshment. The scene faded.

  Marai gathered the stones and tucked them into the box at his side. Lying on the pallet he’d brought to the roof, he lay far too excited to sleep.

  Ten counts to sleep...he whispered, trying to calm himself. slow... In the morning he would have to go to these very same priests. Nine ... darkness descends to cover me slow my breath... Maybe they will try to kill me after what I’ve done to them tonight... Breathe ... eight... Serves them right, sweet goddess I have always trusted your love...seven... His thoughts began to slow along with his breathing and heartbeat... Six...calm...Five...rest... The rainbow colors filled his thoughts and the disquiet gradually drifted from him. Her arms surrounded him. A stranger comfort surrounded him than he had ever felt before that night. He lay awake, but resting and thinking.

  Marai woke at daybreak to the sound of women chatting at the well below. They had come in early from outlying neighborhoods to fetch the day’s water from the better and cleaner well and reservoir. The sun had not yet cleared the horizon, but an otherwise peaceful, grey-blue dawn quickly turned pink and filled him with the memory of yesterday’s haunting events. Added to all other emotions he had felt that morning was his knowledge of Houra’s death.

  She had been old and her death had been expected, but he knew his saving her life for those few hours must have only filled her young great grandson full of false hope. The trip back across the river to the worker’s village again had been too much for her. She was now at peace, he sensed. As soon as the man discovered her, the workers would take her body to the common poor people’s burial area outside the perimeter of their village.

  The only thing Marai knew he could do was send part of the goods he had put by for trade to the burial place so Djerah could afford at least a humble plot. If he hurried by the workers village before meeting with the priests, he knew his presence would only provoke a fight. He hoped the family of the young man would eventually come back across the river and find good success working for Etum-Addi. Maybe a better life in Little Kina Ahna would soothe them enough by the time he returned.

  As Marai descended the ladder from the roof to the second level ledge, he met Ariennu bringing the water jar out of their room. She smiled a little stiffly, eyes still dark-ringed from worry and lack of sleep.

  “See if you can fill up another jar so I can wash.” He whispered tenderly, clasping her to him in an embrace, kissing her brow and then sitting on the top step to wait for her return. He wanted to get the water himself and to sponge her off when she returned so she would feel better, but fetching the day’s water was always women’s work. She would never allow him to embarrass her in front of the other women that way.

  “How’s Naibe?” Marai whispered a quiet question when Ari came back up their steps with the water.

  “Sleeping, didn’t you see? Deka is too.” Ariennu mumbled heavily, tiptoeing inside to get a rough linen cloth and some shears from her tool basket. She knew he didn’t want to wake the others, so she placed a shallow pan of water and encouraged him wash, just inside the door. Very quietly, she closed her eyes and blew her breath on him to wrap him i
n silence and secrecy. She hugged him gently, then signed to him that perhaps she could cut his hair a little shorter.

  Maybe trim your beard since these priests don’t like hairy men. Not too much, though! her fingers indicated perhaps the length of a finger joint.

  He nodded in silence.

  When she finished trimming and grooming his hair, Ari anointed him with a nice perfumed oil, rubbing some of it in his oddly smooth and silver hair, then combing it out. She tenderly rubbed more oil on his arms and chest. Ariennu ached to hold him. He shared that ache.

  Today, Marai put on the brown linen coat with a white stripe near the hem that she had woven. He tied it with a red sash embroidered with golden bulls hand-worked by Deka and Naibe. This he wore over a simple pale kilt. On his feet he wore his best braided leather sandals. He ate a little leftover bread even though he wasn’t really hungry.

  Looking inside, the sojourner saw Naibe-Ellit curled up, asleep on her pallet. Deka lay behind her, holding her as they both slept. The sentiment was beautiful, yet unnaturally lovely When he came back, he thought, maybe Deka wouldn’t be so... Today the two women slept as if nothing had befallen them yesterday. Ariennu’s mask of silence, he decided, must have been working.

  The elder woman gave him the tiniest bit of salt for his teeth and sweet mint to chew so his breath would not offend. For a few moments, she sat quietly with him on the outside step. Then...

  “Be careful.” She averted her eyes to keep him from seeing her tears, when she sensed he was about to leave. “You’re the only man I’ve ever really loved...or wanted to love... You have to come back to me” She flung herself into his arms, trying to steal a last kiss. Her sobs shook her too much for that.

  “Oh Dammit Marai...I’ve never cried so much over anybody as I’ve cried for you.” She shook head...“I was just an old rotten stank kuna hole...with a stone instead of a heart, but you had to break that stone open and find the jewel in it...and now it’s killing me.”

  Putting her arms down, he swung himself up the ladder to the roof again, to get the box of stones he’d left in a secret niche near the roof rail. Handing the carved wooden box to her, he embraced her warmly and tousled her unfastened russet hair.