Then he saw that Bothan was hiding something from him. He realized that his initial encounter with his ancestor, and his final one, were far closer to the truth about the man than anything in between. Even the fact that he had told Jason what the Circle had kept from him was surrounded with ulterior motives and deception.
He was shaken to the core. I owe so many apologies. I’ve only ever thought about myself. As the thought appeared, he found himself slumped over on his knees in the middle of the mirrors, his cheeks wet. He looked up at the center mirror…and saw his teary-eyed reflection looking back at him.
He looked at the mirror on his left. That Jason was furiously screaming at him without a sound. As he watched, the angry figure slowly grew fainter, until only his own reflection stared back at him.
He turned to the mirror on the right. The Jason there grinned at him and nodded, giving him a wink and a thumbs up before also fading away.
He looked up and saw that the roiling colors had disappeared, replaced with a cloudless blue sky.
“It would appear you have your answers,” Lenai’s voice broke into his thoughts.
Instantly, new images flooded his mind. As he struggled to understand the confusing scenes, he realized that these images were from Lenai’s past. He tried to focus on what he was seeing from her memories and what he was feeling in her emotions.
He saw memories from her childhood. He felt her pride at being a Shanthi, and her confusion and disgust as her father told her about the rishna kel. He saw her interactions with other races, particularly humans, as she grew older. He felt her anger and resentment at the treatment she received from those who based their opinion of her on nothing more than her race. Then he saw her first meeting with Reyga.
She had been young, untrained, and curious about humans, even though her father warned her repeatedly that they were not to be trusted. One night she slipped into one of the larger villages, wanting to see for herself. The village was a confusing jumble of twists and turns. How did humans live like this? She made her way toward music and raucous laughter she heard coming from somewhere ahead.
She ended up in a filth-strewn, dead-end alley. She turned to go back the way she had come and found a group of drunken men behind her, having just come out of a rundown tavern.
They had backed her up against a wall, intent on having their way with her and then killing her. She tried to climb the wall, but it was slick with grease and slime. She could not get a grip. She pulled her dagger and slashed at the men, but her fear worked against her. Her wild swing missed and one of them grabbed her arm, twisting the dagger loose. She fought them until something struck her across the back of the head, and the world skewed sickeningly.
She felt them throw her on top of a crate in the alley, heard their taunts and insults, felt hands tearing at her clothes. She wanted to struggle, but her limbs wouldn’t respond. Through her blurred vision, she saw one of the men leaning over her, leering at her. “Yer a pretty one fer shifter scum,” he slurred. She felt his rough hands on her, then a hot flash of light, and he was gone.
Blinking hard, she saw a man with white hair and a pale green robe move between her and the drunken throng. He tried to reason with them, but one of the men drew a sword, and managed to land a grazing blow across the newcomer’s arm before another blast threw him against the wall.
After that, the rest of the crowd scattered, not willing to be the next on the receiving end of the stranger’s welcome. She tried to raise her head. The effort was too much, and she blacked out.
When she came to, she was propped against the wall, a cloak placed over her body. Kneeling beside her was the white-haired stranger. She flinched away, remembering what had happened, but his voice stopped her.
“Be at peace. The men are gone. You are safe…for the moment.”
She studied him warily, pulling the cloak more tightly around her as she remembered the sound of her clothes ripping.
“My name is Reyga,” he said. “You are a Shanthi. What are you doing in a human city, and especially in this part of town? It is not safe here for one such as you.”
“I…I was curious,” she said. “I wanted to know more about humans. Why do humans hate us so?”
He sighed. “I am afraid such misguided emotions cannot be adequately explained. I can only say that not all humans feel that way toward your race.”
“You do not think ill of us?”
“No. I value the person inside, regardless of what the outside looks like.” He smiled. “What is your name?”
“I am called Lenai.”
“Well, Lenai, it is an honor to meet you. Can you stand?”
She nodded and struggled to her feet. She touched the back of her pounding head gingerly. Her fingers came back sticky with blood.
“You took a rather nasty blow,” he said. “Can you make your way back to your people, or would you like to come with me to Lore’s Haven where a healer can treat you?”
“You live at Lore’s Haven?”
It was his turn to nod. For the first time, she noticed his staff, and the fist-sized emerald adorning it.
“You are a Loremaster.”
“Yes.”
She knew there was only one decision she could make. Even her father, with his distrust of humans, would have made the same choice. She bowed her head. “I must come with you,” she said. “You risked yourself to save me. I can only hope my service to you will repay at least a small part of that debt.”
He shook his head. “I cannot accept such service, for there is no debt to repay.” Then, more formally. “I release you of your obligation. You are free to go back to your people or come with me, as you wish.”
She started to protest when he raised a hand to stop her.
“If you wish to serve, my dear,” he said, “then serve the Circle. For my part, I only desire your well-being, and perhaps, your friendship.”
At that moment, the old Loremaster had become ch'tasa to her, and she had agreed to join the Circle Guard, the first Shanthi ever to do so, to honor what he had done for her.
Then the memories changed. Jason felt her shame at her failure to prevent his abduction. He felt her shock and horror, quickly turning to self-loathing, as she learned of Elira’s fate and her own unwilling part in it. He felt her sense of self-worth crumble and fade as she faced the extent of her failure in her service to the Circle, to him, and to the people of Lore’s Haven. There the visions ended.
He wiped his face and turned to see her sitting on her knees behind him. This time her appearance did shock him. Her hair was matted and tangled, hanging in her face as she blankly studied the ground at his feet. Dark circles weighed down her eyes, and her clothing was tattered and dirty.
“What is this? What happened to you?”
She didn’t look up. “This is my truth.”
“No. This isn’t truth, Lenai. This isn’t how any of the Loremasters see you. I doubt it’s how anyone in Lore’s Haven sees you. I know it’s not how I see you.”
“Nevertheless.”
“You told me this was a place where there are no lies,” he said. “You may see yourself this way, but this is a lie.”
“No.”
“Yes,” he insisted. From somewhere he couldn’t identify, he felt a presence join him, showing him what to do. “Tell me one thing. Do you really believe in this whole Sho tu Ishta thing? Or don’t you?”
She looked up at him through the strands of hair hanging in her face. “Sho tu Ishta is an honored tradition among my people. None doubt its worth.”
“Then you have to accept the truth too,” he said, closing his eyes. He brought back up her feelings of pride at being a Shanthi. He remembered the warmth he’d seen between her and Reyga. He thought about her warrior spirit during the battle with the Trellin, and then later, the fierce determination she showed in the healing area. He remembered her playing with the children at Lore’s Haven, and finally her willingness to sacrifice herself to defend him.
All of these feelings and images he took and, with the guidance of the other presence, he impressed them onto her. Overriding her self-condemnation, he forced her to see herself how others did, as the proud, honorable Shanthi warrior they had come to respect, and in some cases, to love.
He opened his eyes and saw her as she had first appeared to him, strong and proud. She was looking down at herself as the last shadows of the tattered clothes faded away. She looked up at him, her eyes wide.
“How did you do this?” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, “but this is the truth. This is how I see you, how the Loremasters see you.”
“But my dishonor…”
“Lenai, if you’ve done anything dishonorable, it’s been to shut out the people who care about you. Nothing else.”
“But…I failed in my duties,” she said, but there was a note of uncertainty in her voice.
“Y’know, my father loved old sayings,” he told her. “One of his favorites was a Chinese proverb that said ‘Failure is not falling down, but refusing to get up.’" He shrugged. “You fell down. Everybody does. That doesn’t dishonor you. Staying down does. And it dishonors everyone who cares about you and believes in you.” He took a step forward and held out his hand. “It’s time for you to get up.”
Her eyes never leaving his, she reached up and took his hand, slowly standing to her feet.
“I thought this would repay some of my debt,” she said. “But I find it has increased it.” She laid her hand on his chest as he started to protest. “I accept this willingly and gladly. I believe I understand you now, Jason. I have seen your soul...” She dropped her hand and bowed her head. “…and you have restored mine. For that, I will ever be in your debt.” She looked at him, once again the proud Shanthi warrior he had first met. “Whenever you have need, you have but to ask.”
He didn’t know how to answer. The fact that she’d called him ‘Jason’ hadn’t escaped him. “I’m glad I could help,” he managed.
Without warning, they were back in Lenai’s quarters, sitting on the floor. The sudden change disoriented him for a moment, then the world righted itself. Lenai released his hand and undid the cloth tying their arms together. He was almost afraid to see what kind of damage her dagger had done, but when he carefully wiped away the blood, all that showed was a hairline scar across his forearm. Wow. He lightly traced the scar with one finger.
“That was a little rough,” he said as they stood up.
“The first time is always difficult. But past incidents, once resolved, do not appear again.”
“How much of that was real?”
“All of it,” she said. “But I understand your question, so I will say it once again. Whenever you have need, you have but to ask.”
“So, you’re okay now?”
She smiled at him, the first smile he had received from her. “Yes,” she said, “thanks to you. I have regained myself once again.”
“Well then, I know of at least one Loremaster who would really like to talk to you. Reyga’s been very worried.”
“Then perhaps we should go to him.”
He nodded, and the two of them went to go find Reyga.
Bird’s Eye View
To say Reyga had been pleased to see Lenai would have been an understatement of epic proportion. Jason smiled again as he remembered the expression on the old Loremaster’s face when he opened the door. Although they both protested, he excused himself, saying that he needed time to recover from the ritual. While that was true, he really thought they needed some time to talk without him around.
Now, alone in his room, he thought about what he’d seen and felt. Seeing firsthand how his words and actions affected others had been a sobering experience. At least now he knew which side he was on, even if he didn’t yet know how he was going to make a difference.
“Jason.”
“Huh?” He looked around. Then he realized that he hadn’t heard the voice with his ears. It had resonated in his mind. “Nyala?”
“No, not the sparkling one.”
He twisted around, scanning the room. He jumped up when he saw a fortunewing staring at him from the sill of the window.
“Where’d you come from?” he asked it, then continued his inspection of his room while watching the fortunewing out of the corner of his eye. He was waiting for someone or something to appear.
“I came from outside,” the voice said. “I’ve been sitting in the trees waiting for you.”
He slowly turned back to the window. No way, he thought.
“Yes,” the voice said. “Don’t you remember me yet?”
“Are you talking to me?” he said to the fortunewing.
“Of course,” the voice sounded amused. Then he got an impression of sorrow. “You do not remember me.”
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any weirder. “Okay, let me get this straight,” he said. “The voice I’m hearing…in my head…is coming from you. A bird.”
“Yes, but I’m not just any bird. I’m Crin. Your Crin.”
“My Crin? What do you mean, ‘my’ Crin?”
Jason felt the mental equivalent of a sigh. “The sparking one said you would forget me for a while. I was hoping when I helped you with the Shanthi that you would remember.”
“The sparkling one? You mean Nyala? Did she send you here? Wait a second. That was you I felt during the ritual? You showed me what to do?”
“So many questions,” came a laughing reply. “Just like when we first met.” The bird settled its feathers. “Yes, the one you call Nyala is the sparkling one. No, she did not send me. And yes again, I joined you during your ritual. The Shanthi girl is important to you, so I helped you help her.” Crin cocked his head at him. “Is she to be your mate?”
“What? Mate? No! I mean, she’s pretty and all but… Y’know, I really don’t think that’s any of your business.” He rubbed his forehead. I’m arguing with a telepathic bird on another planet about whether or not a human chameleon is my girlfriend. I think my weird-o-meter is broken.
“I like her.” The bird still sounded amused.
“Well, I’m glad. I guess.” He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he decided to change the subject. “So, meeting you is one of the things I don’t remember? How did we meet?” Then he had another thought. “Can you show me how to use dimsai?”
Crin didn’t answer right away. Jason got the impression the bird was listening to a voice that he couldn’t hear.
“I am sorry. I’m not allowed to help you remember yet. I’m told it is not yet time.” Crin was silent for a few moments. “One thing I am allowed, though. Before you forgot, you were able to see as I do. I am permitted to give that back to you. I’m told you have need of that now.”
“Told by who?”
“By the sparkling one. She says she is being watched and so cannot speak with you directly, but tells me what needs to be done.”
“But my eyes are pretty good,” he said. “You mean being able to see long distances or something?”
“No. It is difficult for me to explain, but you will understand soon.”
He felt a tickle inside his head.
“There. It is done.”
He glanced around the room. Nothing was different. He moved to the window and stared at the forest below. It looked just the same as every other time he’d looked at it. He focused on a bird circling high overhead. Nothing.
“I must go now.”
“Why?”
He felt frustration from Crin. “It was not time for you to remember yet. I do not like having to wait. The ritual was unexpected, but useful since it allowed me to help you.” Crin launched himself into the sky. “One more thing the sparkling one says to tell you. Do not mention me to anyone. At least not yet.”
“Wait!” he called, then realized that he might be overheard. Will you come back?
“Of course. But not until it is time.” Crin answered as he flew toward the trees. “I am told it is not safe for me t
o speak with you too much until you remember everything, so I will not. But I will be watching.”
Wait, he thought as Crin disappeared into the forest. But there was no answer.
*****
“A spy? That is a strong accusation, Captain.” Tal was taken aback at Gatlor’s blunt declaration. When Gatlor asked to speak with him, he assumed the captain planned on discussing strategies or defense plans. Instead, the veteran warrior opened the conversation with the last thing he expected to hear.
“I know, High One,” Gatlor answered, “but I can come up with no other explanation for what happened on the Scorched Plains. Lore’s Haven is warded against intrusion from outside saiken, so only someone already inside the keep would be able to learn of our plans.”
Tal could think of at least a few beings that the wards would have little effect against, but did not see the necessity of mentioning them. Other than those notable exceptions, he had to admit, Gatlor’s theory seemed to be the most plausible. The wards were only to keep portals created outside from opening up inside the keep. A spy already inside would have no difficulty reporting any plans to an outside accomplice.
“Do you have anyone in mind, Captain?”
“Regrettably, High One, I do. That is why I asked to speak with you alone.”
“I do not understand. Should this not be a matter for the full—" He stopped mid-sentence as he understood Gatlor’s meaning. “You believe the spy to be a member of the Circle?”
“High One, I believe we must at the very least consider the possibility.”
“I see.” Even as he looked at Gatlor, Tal was mentally running through the Loremasters, picturing each as a possible spy, and just as quickly discarding the thought. “And are the Loremasters your only possibilities?”
From a Far Land Page 25
