Keepers of the Ancient Wisdom (Kalie's Journey Book 3)

by Sandra Saidak

  “And a woman Agafa’s age has gone there for instruction?” Brenia asked in surprise.

  Kalie grinned. “It seems our friend has decided to do more than die here. I think she means to start truly living!”

  Brenia shook her head, but was clearly happy with what she was hearing.

  Then Andar appeared looking serious. Upon seeing his expression, Shula abandoned her supply shelf and hurried over. Kalie and Brenia followed.

  “I will have to operate on Garak now, while there is at least some light,” Andar said. “Joran and Galla have gone to prepare the room. Please get the Speakers, and come assist me.”

  “Of course.” Shula hurried away.

  “The Speakers are the priest and priestess you met yesterday,” Kalie explained as both she and Brenia followed Andar.

  “Should we be doing this?” Brenia asked anxiously.

  “We both have some skill at healing,” Kalie said over her shoulder. “And I have assisted in such operations before.” More like observed, Kalie reflected, but she still hoped to be able to help.

  The room that had been set up was large, with a western facing wall which could be removed to gain all the light an afternoon could offer—even a foggy one like this. Word had spread, and now it seemed like half the newly increased population of the village crowded outside, hoping for a glimpse of what was to happen—and the miracle everyone hoped for.

  Garak lay on a table, pale from the sleeping draught he’d been given.

  “He should be quite insensible to pain,” Andar explained to the watching crowd as the priestess poured water from a sacred spring three times over his hands. Then Andar went to the altar where a block of shiny black obsidian waited next to a stone hammer. With a few quick, efficient blows, Andar created a razor sharp knife.

  “Why does he do that?” Brenia whispered.

  “To cut into a human body, a special knife must be made. It may be used only once; Andor will bury it after the procedure.”

  “But why?” Brenia persisted.

  Kalie shrugged. “I don’t know. It just seems that more patients survive when it’s done this way.”

  The priest and several acolytes stationed outside began beating a simple rhythm on hide-covered wooden drums.

  “Everyone may help,” the priestess explained to Garak’s friends, who stood watching mutely. “Simply join with us in our prayers.” With that, she began a simple chant, which was picked up by the crowd. Some of the easterners backed away and remained silent, fearing their presence and that of their foreign gods might endanger Garak. Others joined in the chanting.

  Sarika was allowed in the room with Kalie and Brenia, but in the end, they only watched. With steady hands, Andar and Shula cut into Garak’s body with the new obsidian knife, and then found and quickly removed a strange-looking bloody mass, which an attendant caught, while Shula held the wound closed and Andar—his hands never shaking—sewed the two sides together with sinew.

  The priestess brought the chanting to a close, amid a collective gasp of the watching crowd.

  “Now we will wait and see,” said Andar.

  Garak was constantly attended by healers, but all others were kept away. “The more people near him,” explained Shula, “the more likely evil spirits are to enter his body. In his weakened state, they could easily kill him.”

  Garak survived the night, and awoke the next morning, although he was groggy and in pain much of the day. He was beginning to feel better when several jubilant and mud-covered hunters emerged from the heavy rain, bearing the body of a huge boar, and eager to start it cooking. Finding enough dry space to cook it was a problem for the villagers, but one which they eagerly embraced.

  Kalie looked from a miraculously recovering Garak, to the happy villagers who had been rescued from a dangerous menace, then calculated that the meat the warriors had brought in was nearly enough to make up for what the visitors had consumed.

  Overall, things were going quite a lot better than she had hoped for.

  Chapter 6

  Two days later, sixty-two of the people who had arrived four days earlier offered heartfelt thanks to their hosts, and prepared to depart for the west.

  Malor and Garak would be staying. Unbelievable as it seemed to the newcomers, Garak continued to recover. Still, it would be many days before he could walk, let alone ride. Malor was recovering well, and might have travelled on, against the healers’ advice, but decided he didn’t want to.

  “Perhaps a true warrior of Aahk would ignore the pain and lingering weakness and mount his horse,” Malor told them. “But I have seen stronger men than I die from cuts like I had, once they turn bad.” He turned to Garak, propped up on cushions and sipping broth from a bowl with shaky hands. Then a young woman took the bowl from Garak and fed him. “And I have never seen anything like what they did to Garak. He should be dead. If these people allow it, I will study healing, and perhaps, one day, work such miracles myself.”

  Much to the disappointment of several children, Borik decided that his duty was to follow Riyik, but he promised to visit again if he could. A warrior named Yanal took his place, promising to teach any children interested how to ride, and whatever warrior’s skills the people would allow. Everyone feared they would one day be needed.

  Larren decided to stay and have her baby in Green Bower, and Agafa, would be remaining for the rest of her life.

  Saela would also be staying, despite a lifetime of teaching that told her a woman who was not strong enough to walk to the next camp after a miscarriage was unworthy to live. She sat up in bed sewing woolen cloth. “Even after all your stories, Kalie;” said Saela, “I never believed such people could be real. I still marvel at their kindness—to me! A slave-girl! But the healers cared for me like I was the wife of a chief. They say I will still be able to have children. But only when I decide I am ready. And if I decide I am never ready, they tell me that is fine, too.” She shook her head, as if some things were beyond even fever dreams.

  “What are you making” Kalie asked.

  “A dress. For me.” Saela’s voice dropped, as if speaking aloud of such generosity would make it disappear. “I was not used to not working. Laisa brought me mending to keep me busy, and said I was very good.” She blinked back a tear; Saela was not used to compliments, either. “Now she says I can learn to make cloth their way, and teach them how to make felt. I have always loved to sew.”

  “I have decided to stay as well,” Sarika told them, already wearing the linen shift of a healer.

  “Were you going to ask my leave?” Danica asked, looking dangerous.

  “No,” replied Sarika, looking Danica in the eye, and for once looking equally dangerous. “You were a kind mistress, and I wish you well, but I am no longer a slave. In this land, I make my own choices, and I choose to stay here.”

  Everyone, even the villagers who barely understood the stand-off, held their breath as they watched.

  Then Danica grinned, showing the black stumps of her teeth. “Good! Now I know we are truly in the land of my grandmother!” Then she gave Sarika one of her best amber bracelets and bid her farewell.

  The party traveled west into the forest. There was frost on the ground and frost in the air anytime anyone spoke. But the going was not difficult and full winter not yet here. After five more days of travel, they reached the heavily populated land along the streams that fed the Black Sea.

  Everywhere they stopped, they were made welcome, and at nearly every stop, more of the people from the east found homes. In a few places, they were turned away after one meal and a night’s rest by people who feared bad luck, or the taint of violence, or the horses. But they still had time before winter closed in, and Kalie thought it was important that no one stay where they—and their new people—weren’t entirely comfortable. “More important than making a good marriage, eh?” Riyik teased her.

  “As long as they don’t have to go through what we did to find the perfect match,” she replied with a grin.
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br />   In one village they heard a story of raiders from the east, riding strange animals, and attacking a town to the north. It seemed much worse than anything Yuraak’s tiny band could have done, but as always, no actual witnesses were present.

  “We’re heading north and west,” said Riyik. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

  Kalie kept them moving until at last, only fifteen of them remained to reach a land of hills clothed in trees, many of which stayed green in the winter. Here, just a half day’s walk from the sea, they found a clear stream dancing over rocks, and spanned with a bridge made of blocks of stone. No one—not even Kalie—had ever seen such a thing before. And since they only had five horses left, they took the chance of crossing the bridge. Everyone made it safely to the other side.

  There, crowning a low hill was the place Kalie knew she and these last seekers would find a new home. Easily seven times the population of Green Bower, the town of Stonebridge was a place of fine homes and temples, with a large open market in the center. Sheep and goats grazed on the grassy western slope of the hill, and in the meadows that sloped gently down toward the sea.

  Once they were seen, the party was soon surrounded by excited people, welcoming them and exclaiming over the horses. Townspeople draped shell necklaces over everyone’s heads. Kalie guessed they’d have been made of flowers if it had been summer. Everyone was escorted to the traveler’s temple, where a council of elders, and a headman and headwoman greeted them. Since it was winter, no other travelers were staying there, and everyone was able to find room to sleep in the spacious accommodations afforded all travelers.

  They left their few possessions in the temple, and then broke into smaller groups for a tour of the settlement. A young priestess named Ilara acted as a guide for Kalie, Riyik, Borik, Tarella and Garm.

  “Since it will likely rain by sunset, we can’t have a town-wide feast in the open air, as we would like, with so many visitors,” Ilara explained. “A small feast will be served in the council chambers, for you and our leaders. But everyone will be using the arrival of visitors as an excuse for a celebration.” Ilara smiled, and a pair of dimples appeared on either side of her pink mouth. “If you don’t mind the rain, all of you should go from house to house, introducing yourselves, sampling local delicacies and sharing the songs and stories of your homes.”

  Riyik, for all that he thought himself worldly by now, had the look of a pole-axed ox. “Our flocks are gone, we have nothing to offer these people—not even token gifts—and they still treat us like royalty,” he whispered. “I keep thinking this will turn out to be some misunderstanding—and the important people they’re actually waiting for will show up and kick us out.”

  “This isn’t like Green Bower where seventy of us descended on a village of one hundred,” said Kalie, as they were escorted to a place where they could bathe. “The opposite, in fact. Fifteen of us, and seven hundred of them. And they’re all stuck here for the winter. They already know we’re from a place none of them have even heard of, which means new stories, exotic music, and a new language for those who study such things. Not to mention new skills and interesting discussions.”

  “But sharing food at the start of winter? Aren’t they worried about shortages before spring? After all, I’ve seen what your people consider a ‘small’ feast.”

  Kalie turned to speak with their guide.

  “She says this town is prosperous—” Kalie began.

  “I haven’t seen one of yours that isn’t!” Riyik sighed.

  “They raise sheep and goats, and grow fruit and nuts.”

  “Where?” Riyik looked around for orderly groups of trees.

  “All around us,” said the priestess. “In the forest. Some are wild; some we have planted. Over time, it’s become a fact that nearly every tree surrounding the town gives us something useful.”

  “What about grain?” asked Garm. “I haven’t seen any fields.”

  “We grow a small amount of grain here,” explained Ilara. “But for most foods we trade, except for fish, which we find in plenty just a half day from here.”

  “What do you trade?” asked Tarella.

  “The things we make. Jewelry, cloth, pottery, stonework, leather,” she eyed the visitors’ clothing. “I’d say you can teach us a few things about making leather. And that other thing you wear?”

  “Felt,” said Kalie. “Yes, we would be happy to teach you our skills, just as many of us are eager to learn yours. “ Already she could see who might have a talent for certain of the skills the priestess mentioned. Since most of the people Kalie had brought here had little interest in farming, a town based on trade was the perfect place for them.

  “What is that terrible smell?” Tarella exclaimed, stepping back from a plume of steam which appeared to be coming from the rocks on the hillside below them.

  The priestess grinned. “That is where we bathe.”

  She was clearly about to launch into an explanation, and Kalie had no wish to deprive the woman of her fun, but she couldn’t help herself. “Hot springs! You have hot springs here!”

  “You know of them?” Ilara asked, surprised. “I know of few others, and none close by.”

  Kalie closed her eyes, inhaling the rotten-egg smell of sulfur, remembering her years spent in the mountain village which took its name from the healing waters of the nearby hot springs. “It was long ago,” she said as memories washed over her. “And very far to the west. But I think that every day since I left, I’ve missed the feeling of soaking in hot water that comes from the ground. Especially in winter.”

  “Then you should be very comfortable here,” Ilara said, smiling. “There are towels waiting, along with soaproot and lavender, and room enough for your entire group.” At Tarella and Garm’s startled—and clearly uncomfortable—looks, Ilara grew flustered.

  “I do apologize,” she said quickly. “Is it against your customs for men and women to bath together?” she asked Kalie.

  “It’s the stink,” Tarella explained with less tact than Kalie might have wished for. “How could something that smells like that make anyone clean?”

  Garm just stared at the steam as if a dangerous beast lurked beneath it.

  “I assure you, Tarella, the smell does not stay with you,” said Kalie. “There’s actually a kind of magic in it. The water feels wonderful, and when you leave, you’ll swear you’ve never been cleaner. It can even heal illness!”

  Tarella and Garm looked skeptical.

  “Most of these people have never immersed themselves in water before,” Kalie explained. At Ilara’s confused expression, she added, “Water is scarce where they are from. The women use a kind of cleansing paste on their bodies.”

  “I’d like to learn more about that,” said Ilara, with unfeigned interest. To the others she said, “There is no need to try it until you are ready. If you two would follow me, we can return to the temple, and you can bathe there.”

  “Borik, you’ll probably want to go with Tarella and Garm,” Kalie said, shooting a meaningful look at the big man.

  “Oh no, I’d like to try…” Borik stopped as Kalie’s expression finally registered.

  “I’ll come back later,” Borik said quickly, following the others.

  Riyik glanced at Kalie, amused. “Something I should know about?” he asked.

  “Oh, just some things I heard about at Hot Springs,” she said with a mischievous smile. “You see, couples quite enjoyed bathing together. Something about the water adding tremendous pleasure to the act of joining. Of course, I never had a chance to find out for myself, as I was unattached the whole time I lived there, and I didn’t care to watch others, although many people did in that part of the world. It could all just be rumors.”

  “Somehow I doubt that,” said Riyik, picking his way down the path carefully until they were in a large stone chamber. The air was hot and steamy, despite the frigid cold just above them. Conveniently placed stones led to the large, nearly circular pool in the center. Riyik
had his clothes off faster than Kalie would have thought possible.

  “While we figure out the truth of those things you heard,” he said, slowly untying the laces that held Kalie’s dress together, “why don’t you tell me about this interesting custom of watching other people bathe?”

  Chapter 7

  For the next several days, Kalie felt as if she were living her life backwards. Everything she had taken for granted growing up—from the excitement of meeting new people, to the freedom to walk where she chose, to the necessities of life just being there for the taking—were all back. All she had to do was slip back into that manner of living.

  It wasn’t as easy as she thought it would be. Then again, it hadn’t been the first time, either.

  Riyik teased Kalie that if she hadn’t been busy showing fourteen other people how to do it, she’d have forgotten how to live in her own home.

  There was some truth to his words, Kalie thought as she led people around the town, explaining the importance of keeping clean, of looking people in the eye (difficult for the women) and how to find useful work. Introductions were easier here than in the horse tribe, since the touching of palms and a single word of greeting would suffice for everyone except the revered elderly. But convincing the women to touch a man or initiate a conversation proved challenging.

  Finding permanent living space proved blessedly easier.

  Garm and Durak both expressed an interest in learning metalworking. Since the town only had one smith, and he was currently without an apprentice, the smith was happy to take both men into his home, and begin teaching them. Much to Kalie’s surprise, Tarella quickly found a family of jewelry-makers who invited her to live with them while she learned the new craft.

  “I didn’t think you were interested in such things,” Kalie said, as she helped Tarella move her few possessions into her new home. “Or that you would feel comfortable living with so many men not related to you.” The family consisted of three grown brothers with a much younger sister of about eight years old, and their grandmother, who might have been considered a suitable chaperone by the tribe, had she not been nearly blind and bedridden.