by Roy C. Booth
“And there you have it, a brief overview of the Order of Six,” Jihan said, smacking his lips. He pulled forth his waterskin and drank.
Iriana nodded. “Sounds far more adventurous than my life.” Her thoughts went to days and days inside a cave hiding, and nights failing to call the rains.
“Do tell,” Theran pressed.
She thought for a moment. She wondered where to begin.
“Yes, Night Star, tell us,” Jihan insisted.
Iriana blinked. “How do you know that name?” Iriana asked, confused. “Only my mother ever called me that.”
Both men chuckled. Jihan saw her confusion at his expense and decided to end it. “Iriana is the northern star. Your mother named you after the star that she used to guide her during her travels, no doubt. The village men of the north call it Iriana, the Night Star.”
Theran laughed a moment longer. “Yes, the Night Star is what my people use for orientation on the water to find port again. I didn’t make the connection, until now. But his reference is true. Your name means Night Star.”
Iriana considered this for a while, almost to the point where the two men wanted to interrupt her thought to make sure she was all right.
She finally sighed. “I’m sorry, my mother never told me what my name meant, and I really never mingled with the local townsfolk enough for that to be made known otherwise. Even Kennai was instructed by my mother not to bring up too much information about our past or anything directly about me, for that matter.”
“Ah, so to find out something so personal while being stuck in a makeshift magical tree house in the presence of two strange men is a bit overwhelming?” asked Theran.
“Yes,” she said with a smile, “You could say that.”
“Then there we go,” said Jihan, smiling back.
“But you never really told us a story, wizard,” interrupted Theran.
Jihan paused. “No, lad, I guess I really didn’t. Please, let me rectify that before passing the talking stick, as it were, to the fair Iriana.”
“All right, then,” Theran said.
“Any requests?”
“Do you know any shipwreck stories?” asked, Theran.
Jihan sensed that Theran wished to have a bit more closure concerning the previous tale he had told, and looked at Iriana.
“Oh, please, go on ahead, I would not mind hearing another,” she said, “if you do know of any.”
“Why, yes. Yes, I do,” said Jihan. “A story taught to me from a heavily tattooed cannibal islander from another world, while, in turn, had learned it from a planeswalker who had learned of it from another.”
“Cannibal?” asked Iriana, surprised at the turn.
“Oh, don’t worry, it is not a gruesome story, my dear. As a matter of fact, even though he filed his teeth and ritually scarred his face to appease his dread epithet-laden Shark God, I found him to be quite erudite and a very skilled storyteller despite his ghastly permanent smile, often infusing his stories with great nuggets of wisdom all the while.” Jihan tried to convince her.
“Well, then, I must hear this tale, then,” said Theran.
Iriana sat up straighter. “Very well, then. Jihan, proceed.”
“Thank you. Ahem.” Jihan adjusted his position and then began.
“Long ago, in a faraway land, perhaps on another world not unlike our own, a grand ship returned to its home port after a long and trying mission at sea, a mission that was far less successful as had been hoped by all who had participated, which made the leader of the expedition, a young prince, worried as to how to announce his seeming failure to his king, a mighty, yet excessively proud man equally known for his harshness for failure as he was for his rewarding for success. An older sailor, a man who had seen and witnessed many a truly great thing his many years, knew of his prince’s melancholy when they docked, and approached him, hoping to bring his young master’s mind to ease.
“‘O’ prince, it is time you disembarked and made proper preparations to report back to our king,’ said the sailor.
“The prince scowled, leaning against the ship’s rail. ‘I failed in my mission, and our king is not well known for his forgiveness in these matters. I hesitate to see him for I fear my life may indeed be forfeit.’
“‘Be of good cheer, O’ prince,’ said the sailor. “We have been away many a month at sea, and our travels around the known world have brought us all back home safe and sound. The mighty mallet has been grasped, the mooring post has been driven soundly into the ground, and the bow of the ship rests firmly upon the bank. Our thanks have been offered to the generous gods who have looked over us and guided us, and we have embraced each other as true comrades in our good fortune, for we have returned in good health and unharmed although we have traveled throughout other many a strange, hostile land.’
“The prince did not respond, continuing to stare at the towers of the palace far into the city.
“‘Listen to me, O’ prince, go bathe and become refreshed, dress in your finest and give your report to our mighty, generous king. Speak plainly, without faltering, and with complete and utter sincerity, for a true nobleman is known by his proper speech, conduct, and manners.’
“The prince sighed, looked down, and slowly shook his head, clearly dismayed and unmoved.
“‘Let me tell you, My Prince, what happened to me once, many years ago,’ continued the loyal sailor. ‘I was commanded to go to the mines of my king, off in a far away land, and I took the fastest, mightiest ship, manned by the most skilled and competent sailors; our very best. The royal court magicians, astronomers, and oracles, all predicted there would be little or no wind, but while far out at sea, a mighty storm overtook us with waves well over twenty feet high. We tried to overcome, but despite our efforts, the great ship sank, and most of her gallant crew perished, going down with her or being swept away. I swam to a barrel and held onto it as the uncaring sea bore me along, eventually casting me upon an island. For three days, I hid in the treeline, alone and hungry, living inside my barrel, regaining my strength from my ordeal, for I was exhausted and weary. Finally, I began to hunt and gather for sustenance. I found figs, grain, grapes, fruit, and melons. I even found crabs, honey, and edible insects aplenty. Fresh water in cool, running streams slaked my thirst. Nothing was lacking, for it was truly a paradise. I dug a deep fire pit, and prepared a suitable burnt offering for our many gods to express my gratitude.’
“‘As soon as I lit the sacrifice, however, I heard a loud rumbling noise, like unto thunder. I shook and trembled, thinking it might be caused by a large wave pounding on the surf, another great storm. The earth quaked, the trees swayed, and I feared for my very life. I found my courage, uncovered my face, discovering that the sound was caused by a looming Serpent coiling over me! He was gigantic; his great body thick unto tree, his shiny red scales as large as shields, his fangs as long as the mightiest lances, and his bright eyes flashed like lightning. He loomed over me as a full grown man would an infant.’
“‘As I lay on my face feebly prostrating before him, he said to me, ‘What has brought you here, little one? Who has brought you to my island? What is your purpose here? If you delay in telling me the truth I shall crush you into paste!’ I kept my tongue still, for I was too afraid. He swept down, wrapped his tongue around me, took me in his massive jaws, carried me to his grand palace, and placed me down without injury. Here, the Serpent repeated his question, ‘Who are you and why are you on my island? Do not lie! Speak!’
“‘Then as best and as respectfully I could before him, replied, ‘O Great One, I am but a sailor who was embarked for the great mines to the south by order of my king. A terrible storm of great magnitude came upon us, our ship was destroyed, the crew drowned or swept away, and I, the only survivor, was cast into the sea, carried miraculously to these wondrous shores on a barrel.’
“‘The Serpent answered, ‘Have no fear, little one, and do not be afraid. You speak truth. The gods have allowed you to live and brought you
safely here to my island paradise. Here you will find nothing lacking, for it is filled with only good and proper things. You will stay with me until the harvest season. Then a ship will come from your own country, and your kinsmen shall return you home safely. Now, be of strong cheer, for you will live to see your wife and children and in good time be once again under the roof of your own house.’
“‘Then I bowed in obeisance, touched the ground before him, and said, ‘I shall tell my mighty king about you and your kindness to me.’ I then stood, grateful.
“‘The Serpent merely smiled and said, ‘When you leave this wondrous place you will not return, for this island paradise will disappear beneath the waves, for, alas, mortals now rule this world, not the gods, no matter what they think. I wish to return to the raw elements from which I was borne from many a millennium ago and know at last blessed peace. My time on this world closes to an end, my work finished.’
“‘True to his word, a ship arrived in due time as he had wisely foretold. ‘Farewell,’ said the mighty Serpent, ‘a safe and proper journey home. You will embrace your family once again. Your fortunes will grow. May my name and words of my hospitality be well received and honored in your nation by any and all who learn of it.’
“‘I bowed myself before him, and he graciously gave me precious gifts of gold, jewels, incense, perfumes, spices, and ivory to take back to my king. I went to the shore and called my rescuers to me, and we thanked the mighty master of the island for his great kindness and generosity. As we set sail and were a safe distance away, the great island paradise sank beneath the waves, it and it’s mighty master never to be seen or heard from again. In two month’s time I was under the roof of my own house, a very rich man surrounded his loving family, and my king was very pleased with the tribute I laid at his feet, our original mission, tragic as it was, now deemed a great success. I and my gallant lost crew mates were bestowed many a great honor, and our families were justly proud of us.’
“‘So you see, O’ prince, I have experienced and seen much lo these many years and have attained great success in spite of my many great misfortunes. Now, I sail only for adventure and to serve you and our mighty king, O’ prince. Give heed to listen, for what I have said is wise.’
“The prince smiled, placing his hand on the kindly loyal sailor’s shoulder. ‘You have served me well, my good, loyal friend. I ask you this in return: Does a man give food and drink at daybreak to a troublesome, bleating goat he is going to put to slaughter later during the day?’
“With that, the young prince graciously thanked the kindly old sailor and disembarked from the ship. After making himself more presentable as instructed, he headed towards the mighty palace deep within the great city to give his full report to his equally mighty and terrible king.’
“And the old loyal sailor never saw his beloved prince ever again.”
There was a long silence as the two young people reflected upon Jihan’s story in their own minds. Finally, Jihan cleared his throat.
“I do believe, Iriana, it’s your turn. Perhaps, a more personal account is in order, eh?
Iriana nodded.
“Good, proceed,” suggested Jihan
“Since my mother died, my life has been quite boring really. I wake, eat, read some of the writings from the town where I was, spend hours calling to the sky trying to bring rain. Very few came to visit me, and when they did, they mostly brought supplies, perhaps relayed some scraps of news, and then left.” She stayed silent, recalling her lonely days and nights. “I had no friends, honestly.”
“Before your mother passed,” Jihan started, “tell me about those days.”
She frowned and let her eyes drop from her listeners. She spoke slowly, “Life was much different then. My mother spoke a lot, trying to teach me everything she knew. Not just about calling clouds, but also about the history of Callers. She told me about how the world depends on our gift, how magic depends on the balance of nature, and how, without us, life on our world would eventually end. She also told me that there were many who believed we will all die, and the world would be fine. She would then go into the metaphysical dynamics of our world and how it differed from others.”
Theran agreed. “My people think the world is better off without Callers. They believe the world will continue on, with or without them.”
“What do you think, Theran?” Jihan asked verbally prodding the young man beside him.
“I’m here. I was the one who rescued her. I was the one protecting her before you showed,” Theran reminded the wizard.
“I was on my way to—” Jihan started.
Theran did not allow him to finish. “And if she had to wait on you, she would be dead right now. As much as you despise me, and hate my people, you need to focus on the issue at hand here, wizard. I am here to make sure she makes it to the Circle, with or without you.”
Jihan paused, taken aback by the young man. “My apologies.”
Iriana cut them both off. “She tried every day to teach me how to call to the clouds and bring the rain. Our days were spent in mother and daughter bliss, as far as I knew. But the whole time, she was dying; her life force fading by the week. I was too young to realize it, there was no way to know or recognize the signs until the final year. I knew then something was wrong. She lost weight, her features turned gaunt, and her skin paled and wrinkled. And she was tired all the time. Oh, so tired. She told me everything then. It was hard to stand out there on the ledge, doing what I was supposed to do, knowing the fate of my people–my world–rested in my hands, and the whole time knowing my mother wasted away, nearing death’s door, just a rod or two away from me.”
Due to her flowing tears, both men gave her plenty of time to compose herself. They looked in other directions, trying to attempt to give her as much privacy as possible. Once she calmed, slowed her breathing and wiped her eyes, the wizard spoke, choosing his words carefully, “And did she ever speak of your father?”
“Once,” Iriana answered.
“And?” Jihan prodded.
“She said he was the wisest man she had met. A bit young, but mature for his years. She told me he was handsome, much more so than she deserved since she didn’t think she was attractive enough for him. She told me they loved each other, but could not live together because of their duties. Both of them were far too committed to their chosen paths. She also told me that he was brave, more so than anyone she had ever met.”
“Your mother was beautiful, Iriana, do not let anyone tell you otherwise,” Jihan said, speaking with conviction. “What else did she teach you about calling the clouds?”
“Yes,” replied Theran. “How do you sing to the clouds? How does that work?”
“It’s a hard to explain, but here is what is done is, at first, I find a suitable cloud, stare at it, and concentrate. That is the mental component. The singing, the verbal component–consisting of words, pitch, and rhythms–causes the cloud to ‘mist out,’ as it were. My hand gestures, the somatic component, then allow me to guide the cloud to where I wish it to rain upon.”
“I see,” said Theran. “And the rain is your sign of success, then?”
“Yes,” said Iriana, “And if all is done exceptionally well, there will be a rainbow at the end of the rite, too.”
“A rainbow? You truly set the measure of success upon the formation of a rainbow?” Theran asked.
Theran’s new found belligerence puzzled Jihan. “And what of that?” he asked.
“Many people have silly notions about rainbows,” said Theran. “Some call them bridges. Others say there is a great treasure to be found at the ends of them. Foolishness. Why, the Gurnan, a race my people who have conquered far to the south, believed rainbows are dangerous demonic spirits who dip down from the skies to drink water and feast upon the wicked, brought about to wreak their havoc by the violence of storms, rain, or mankind’s folly with war.”
“Ah, I see, and you do not have much faith in these beliefs or in Iriana’s doing
s of same?” Jihan asked, trying to stir some emotion.
“Feh. Why, even every Dreanu child knows that rainbows are created by the goddess Irsna when she travels down from heaven to be with and reward one of her mortal lovers, a great poet, playwright, or artisan, now that the rain has made that area clean and pure enough for her to visit.”
“I see,” said Jihan, satisfied.
“Goddess or not, if the cloud calling is truly successful, a rainbow will appear.” Iriana’s tone was tinged with defensive sadness.
Jihan took it upon himself to help defuse the situation. “Weather has always fascinated people, from the beginning of time, and many have tried to fit magic into those beliefs. For example, some believe a sorcerer can capture a wind in a bag, and make it do their bidding?”
“How so?” asked Theran, now forgetting his derision, truly wanting to know.
“Through arcane binding spells, intricate knot-tying, how the bag is tied, and by the tightness of the ropes. Now, I have never encountered anyone who has performed such a feat, nor have I ever found any evidence supporting it, but there are many in the far north who swear by it.” Jihan thought more about it as he spoke.
“Weather magic seems so complicated,” said Iriana, with a pronounced sigh. “I sometimes wonder if it can be too complicated for me to master.”
“Oh, no, not all weather spells require much ritual or even incantation, really,” interjected Jihan.
“How so?” asked Iriana.
“Well, for example. I know Fervin the Fat knows a spell to prevent the formation of fog in his orchards and vineyards that consists of the hanging of a dead frog at his gates, usually one that is legless, of course.”
“Legless?” asked Theran, puzzled.
