“We know, Ilim, but out here in the desert only the insects, snakes and the gods can hear. The animals do not speak our language and the gods do not care.” He said wryly.
“Besides,” said Nasim. “Ever since the fall of Assenna and the Red Kings we have been living in the dark times. There are many tales of wonderful things that we do not have names for that existed during that time.”
“I have spent years living with the Karig and I have heard many such stories from them as well.” Ilim did not approve of such tales. The fact was, no one really knew what happened. It gave opportunity for people to embellish and lie in the telling and the next thing one knew it was all of a sudden, history. The Ainash hated even the words “Red Kings” and it was considered an offense to even speak of them. Most people saw it as a curse upon them and their families to speak of the Red Kings. So, no one spoke of them or of the Veiled Age, as it was now called. In that, at least, Ilim agreed with the Ainash.
The Veiled Age.
The time in history that was lost. No priests or teachers spoke of it unless it was to say that it was a time of great evil and darkness in Hybron which even spread to other kingdoms. But tribal people saw it differently. Most city people assumed that they had odd, superstitious notions. It never occurred to them that the tribal people had knowledge others did not, which amused tribes people to no end.
What everyone agreed on was that a great destruction rained down on Assenna, the ancient capital and the fires from that terrible time burn down even to this day. They destroyed the city and all the towns and villages surrounding it. These fires stopped just outside of the walls of Jhis, the next largest city in the land. The eternal fires, which were no longer seen as holy, were still fear inspiring in a terrible way. Many saw it as the gate to the realm of dark gods. Or at least that is what heathens believed, as Ilim saw it. Whatever the mysticism that surrounded it, the eternal fires was a huge plateau used as a garbage heap. Everything that needed to be destroyed was thrown there and vultures circled above the fires ceaselessly.
The fires were northeast of them in the distance as they approached. Three black-clothed figures stood away some paces from the city's northern wall on a wide built ledge of stone. They were carrying staffs and pitchforks, tending the fires outside the city. One of the lowest vocations in the land, dealing with the dead. Other men were throwing refuse over the wall which collapsed into a pile. A body was heaved over the wall.
“We must pass by the fires for some time before we can make toward Rhe. A foul place!” Said Kesh'i. As they passed, Ilim could feel the heat pushing against his skin in waves. He rolled up his sleeves and wiped the sweat away from his forehead and neck.
“Please! Wait for me, my brothers. I must see something.” The others consented. He rode his camel toward the wall. A morbid thought came to him.
“You men!” He called to the men in black. One of them looked up.
“Greetings! What is it you want from us?”
“The body thrown over the wall. I need to see it.” Ilim had a sense of dread in his belly but he had to see the face. The man shrugged and helped Ilim up the ledge. Ilim went down the ledge toward the body. The other tenderers parted and allowed him to examine it. It had not yet been thrown in the fires but was among a heap of other bodies and trash waiting to be thrown in. It was the body of the young man executed days earlier by the priesthood. They could not even give him, one of their own people, a decent burial. Ilim was enraged. So enraged he began to shake. His eyes looked upward to the sky as if to shout at God. Only the bodies of criminals of the worst sort were thrown into the fires outside the city. But he knew better. If the Ainash decided one was a criminal, no one could answer back.
“Do you know the man?” Asked one of the tenderers. Ilim was silent for a long time as he stared at the mangled and bloodied body. Then he opened his mouth to speak.
“He was innocent of any crime.”
“So why is his body here?”
“Because Jhis is a black pit full of wicked men.” The man blinked at him as if he did not understand. The first tenderer, a much older man approached.
“What is the matter.” It was more a statement than a question.
“This man says the body of this one should not be here, that he was innocent.”
“The bodies of innocent men are not thrown here.” Said the third man. The first one gave him a wry look then turned to Ilim. His skin was deeply creased, leathery and colored burnt bronze from his long years at his station. He had a symbol branded into his forehead. The flame. These fires were not a mere vocation but his lifelong devotion. Ilim felt this man was a brother-priest in spirit if not in actual religion.
“I know of what you speak. I'd heard of the whole controversy. But there is nothing we can do, less we be executed and thrown into the fires ourselves.”
“I know. I am not blaming you.” Ilim said despondently. He turned and walked down the ledge. The first man hailed him.
“My friend,” he called, “perhaps there is one thing we may do to ease matters. You men of the Golden Temple, you bury your dead whole in the ground, do you not? I will dig a grave for this one and bury him. I will not allow his body to pass through the dark fires.”
“You will not be punished for it? You do not have to do this.” Said Ilim. The man shook his head.
“I am the guardian of the first gate of the fires. That much I can do for him and for the honor of his family. Whether men do evil or good in life, it will all be sorted out before the Lord of Heaven in the end.” Ilim turned and faced him. He did not know if this man was once part of the Aishanna-La or just knew something of his religion. He thought on it. He was going to the Holy Mountain, based on a voice in a vision and he knew in his bones it was divine. And like Nagilla the sage, he might meet friends in strange places. Like this man. Ilim nodded and bowed to the man.
“You are right. I thank you. Ellah Kaifah.”
“Ellah Kaifah.” Said the man and he turned and called for the shovels.
Chapter Five
Anet fumbled and dropped her knife. If Instructress Helga saw her bumbling like this she would have put her on floor- scrubbing duty. Getting down from the stool to reach for it, she bumped the basket of beets she had been peeling, hands red as blood from the raw beet juice. Beets rolled all over the floor.
“Aich!” She yelled in frustration.
“What is the matter?” Asked Kaisha.
“Nothing!” Anet snapped. Kaisha laughed.
“You just hate chores, don't you? You're lazier than I am, Anet! If Instructress Helga sees this you'll be on kitchen duty all week!” Kaisha dried the last dish and set it on top of the other washed and dried dishes. They were visiting the city, Yallas-by-the-Sea on a healing mission. The Scions of the Desert Mothers, as they were called these days, or Desert Sisters, were well known for their healing abilities. The more experienced women were even more skilled at healing than the physicians and were often called upon when deadly diseases took hold in a place or when hard childbirths might cause death. Often, one large party would leave the citadel and once they reached their destination they broke up into two parties, one visiting from house to house in the neighborhoods and the other staying in the town or village square, healing those that came to them.
Yallas-by-the-Sea was once part of Hybron before the Veiled Age but was annexed by the king of Zapulia, King Temuz.
The mission gave her a chance to escape the drudgery of endless chores she was forced to do at the citadel. Or so she'd thought. Back home there was sweeping, weaving baskets, fixing looms, repairing bricks (the worst) peeling and preserving vegetables and fruit, tending chickens and goats or laundry. That was besides the history studies and the reading of the holy book. Then there was attending Instructress Matha and her apprentice, Sorrell, when she needed to create tinctures, salves and other medicines. Sometimes she was sent out with Sorrell to find plants, roots and other things for these herbal potions and she liked that. Instruc
tress Matha, the expert herbalist of the citadel, also wrote down the ingredients and the recipes for making them into medicines, which were legion. She also drew botanical illustrations of all the plants and herbs they used and these were made into books and stored in the library. Anet found these drawings fascinating.
Unfortunately, even in a new and wonderful city with so much to experience, Mother Berenice had found chores for them to do.
They were at the home of a man named Ladin and his wife, whose daughter was having a difficult birth. Her own husband, a sailor, was out at sea and so she was staying with her family until his return. She had been in labor for many hours by the time the Scions had arrived and her father had run to see them, pleading with them to help his daughter. This would be her first child. When Anet heard the woman's piercing screams upstairs she grew quiet. She was glad she had not started bleeding. It seemed that once that happened, a girl was rushed off to be married. Anet did not want to be a married woman. Having a baby seemed wonderful but also frightening and some women died from the birth itself or childbed fever if they did not have a scion as a midwife.
While the midwives were attending her, Kaisha and Anet were helping the household with the cooking. They had prepared many meals already and put them away for the family's later use, washed clothing and bedding, swept the house clean and even administered medicines to other families in the neighborhood that week who needed them. After all, as Mother Berenice often reasoned, a woman had little time for housework and chores after a babe was newly born and some fell into a black mood. It was imperative that she get help during this time. And for the black moods, Mother Berenice prescribed meat fat and generous quantities of fresh butter, if the family could get it.
“Does this mean we would be here forever, doing this woman's work for her?” Anet had complained earlier that morning. Mother Berenice chided her.
“If and when you become a wife and mother you will understand, my little Anetji. All servants of God live to be in service to others and women, most of all.” As far as Anet was concerned, she would never be a wife and mother. The blood and screaming at childbirth, the chores! No!
Footsteps fled downstairs and into the kitchen. A steaming pot of water was sitting in front of the hearth. Instructress Zipporah heaved it up and pushed through the door and back upstairs. Kaisha and Anet remained quiet as the screams descended into moans from the laboring woman upstairs. Zipporah had come down hours earlier to fetch her sewing needles – huge frightening looking things – while the other midwives prepared long strings of hardened tripe. “To sew up bad wounds!” She'd told Anet once. Anet shivered at the thought and now worked to keep busy to take her mind off of the childbirth. She filled pots with sliced beets, salt, garlic and whey from an ewer and filled them with water and sealed them. Kaisha fried potatoes with vegetables and fat and then began slicing up the eels. Anet rinsed the soaked beans, pouring the water in a large tub for the family bath the next day and poured the beans in a new pot, boiled them in the bone broth with herbs and salt. Their hands were busy with work, their minds were still on whether they would hear of triumph or death upstairs. She sorely hoped nothing bad would happen. As they set the table and prepared the evening meal they heard the long awaited cry of a newborn baby. The mother and the woman's sisters were upstairs while the little ones and the rest of the family were downstairs. Finally, Mother Berenice came down, her apron was bloodied but she had a big smile on her face.
“A healthy boy is born to the family.” The family rejoiced. Both Anet and Kaisha hugged each other in great relief.
“But how is she? My daughter? Will she. . .” Asked the mother. Mother Berenice took her aside. Anet, always curious, followed them, careful to stay hidden under the staircase.
“She will survive as long as you keep everything around her and the baby well cleaned. There are wounds and tearing around her birth opening. Her wounds are serious and will take a long time to heal. Much healing salve must be applied to the wounds three times a day and keep giving her the lady's mantle tea and the salve on the wounds. You must do this for the next two months.”
“Of course you must join us for evening meal, Mother! All of you!” Called the father. This was Anet's favorite part of traveling, sharing meals with new people. Everywhere the scions went people paid them either in livestock, expensive goods, copper, gold or silver or if they were poor, with sharing a meal. This family had already given them a tiny bottle of myrrh. However, payment was never required and the scions only took enough to cover traveling expenses and necessities. The rest was given as an offering at the citadel or to help poor townspeople or the people of the land when they reached Gamina. They never passed up an opportunity to share a meal.
After sending up a meal for the young mother and her sisters the rest of the family sat down to eat. This was Anet's first time having fried eel. It smelled good. People here ate seafood nearly every day. Jhis and Gamina were landlocked and creatures of the sea were very expensive, making any seafood a delicacy. Mother Berenice said a prayer to Airend-Ur and they sat down to eat. Anet looked around the room. The rough wooden columns were carved with little symbols the fish goddess and her attendants. An altar to her sat in the far end of the dining hall with tiny stone bowls of water, bones and candles and a small wooden image of the goddess with her long fish tail sat above, held upon a stand. Many gods were worshiped in Zapulia and Hybron. Yallas-by-the-Sea was a rich medley of many cultures from both lands. People worshiped lions, the sea, the moon, the sun, horses, mountains and many more things she could not count. Some of these gods were frightening and made her glad hers only seemed to required study, prayer and chores. She also noted that when they had just arrived in the city there was a strange celebration being held. An effigy of the king of Hybron was being burned and people were shouting insults and curses at it, saying: “Khalit the usurper who eats the flesh of men!” And they laid it upon an altar and burned it to a god she did not know.
But there were so many wonderful things to see at the markets and the docks, especially the great ships docked at the ports. There were rows and rows of ships as far as the eye could see, some with rows of oars, others with no oarsmen and many carried exotic things and exotic people. Like the Valierite sailors' glittering swords, axes and the ivory, whalebone, luxurious animal furs and amber. They were very pale people from the Great Ridge Lands. Some even with hair like fire! And there were the black-skinned peoples of the South Lands with their fine gold, precious gems of all sorts, tin, ivory and flax. There were the great fat ships with golden bows with some great god or goddess at its head, ships always laden with precious things like gold and silver, hundreds of spices, salt and cloth of silk, wool or cotton and exotic animals out of stories. Then there was the bounty of food. Yallas-by-the-Sea was a wealthy city, more interesting than even the prosperous Yallas-of-the-Valley. Even with all the jumble of sights and sounds new and exotic, Alhar, the dominant tongue in Hybron, was the universal tongue in many lands; the language of commerce, as Mother Berenice had put it. A great stone image of Dana stood before the port, the massive lighthouse and identifying mark of the city, her arm outstretched, holding an oil lamp and at night that lamp was lit with fires. One night when it was foggy Instructress Zipporah took her and the other young ones to see it. It was a mystical sight to Anet.
She poured herself a bit of white wine in her water cup. The wines in Yallas were often sweet and white. She liked any fermented drink, when she was allowed to have it, but wine was most delicious and it was not often that she had it.
“We do not normally eat so lavishly but it is a blessing to have you all with us.” Said Ladin in his slightly accented Alhar.
“Where will you go next? Whom will you visit? We have an old friend who has such terrible aches in his back, he could surely use one of your ointments.”
“Old Enkil? Still around, is he?” Chuckled Maia.
“Indeed. He holds on to life like a barnacle on a ship!” He said, laughing.
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“We will be sure to visit him in the morning before we leave. There is another party of scions elsewhere in the city. I wonder if they have gotten around to this quarter?” Said Mother Berenice.
“No. Instructress Iddina and her party have stayed in the city square.” Said Maia.
“Ah! In any case, we thank you for the work you do.”
“It is no work for us.” Said Mother Berenice.
“How long will you be in the city?” Asked Behth, the wife.
“Only six more days but I am sure we will be back within the year.”
“We will be glad of you, Mother Berenice.” Mother Berenice waved her hand and shook her head.
“Only Berenice, thank you.” She said. Suddenly, there was a frantic knocking at the door. The man got up to answer it. There was a boy standing there breathing heavily.
“Yes?”
“I have a message for the Desert Sisters!” Mother Berenice rose from the table.
“What is it, son?”
“A caravan that just arrived in the city! The merchants say that the Hatchet Men are waiting to kill you when you leave the city! They say do not go that way! There is an ambush that way!” Anet felt fear rising in the room. The Ainash somehow found out! Always, the Ainash were seeking to stamp them out.
“What will we do? How do we get out of the city?” Cried Kaisha.
“Shh! A way will be provided. No need to panic, yet.” Mother Berenice said but her expression was grave.
“You must go by ship.” Said Ladin. “It is too late tonight but on the morrow, I will go to the docks and ask about a ship for you.”
“Thank you. That is kind of you.”
“But you have to hurry! Some of them are headed toward the city. If they find you here. . .” Said the boy urgently.
“Here? In a foreign city? They would dare to make trouble so far from home?” Asked Instructress Zipporah.
Red World Trilogy Page 6
