“I know it comes as a shock,” Sanjay said, “and I may be wrong, but we have spent the better part of the night debating Citali’s visions, and we are in agreement. It seems the most likely explanation.”
Pebbles looked around at the others. All but Anlon nodded. His expression showed he was as stunned as she felt.
“You’re wrong,” she said. “She never showed me she had any children. Not once.”
“Yes, I know. Well, she did show you one, but she was not honest about what really happened to her. The girl at the bonfire. Then again, I do not think it was actually a memory she showed you. I think it was a nightmare. In fact, in retrospect, I think a number of the visions you experienced were really nightmares...Citali’s, not yours.
“I am angry at myself for not considering the possibility earlier. From Anlon’s first description of your visions, I believed they were dreams. Your dreams. The symbolism in many of them was too apparent to think otherwise. But sprinkled among those dreams were true memories and that threw me off. Once you started to identify real objects, real places, it became impossible to ignore the possibility that all the visions were Citali’s memories. Until tonight, I never stopped to consider the possibility the visions included nightmares…Citali’s nightmares.”
Pebbles felt heat rising throughout her body. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. The bonfire was as real as it gets.”
“Nightmares often feel that way. But if you pause to consider the vision closely, there are a few aspects that are confusing. For example, what purpose did the burly man serve in sacrificing the young girl? If she was, as you suspect, one of the new ones, why would anyone charged to protect them so willingly sacrifice her? Why didn’t the burly man urge Citali to take her? And if it was a memory instead of a dream, where were the two boys? The answers become clearer if we view the vision as a dream and the contents as symbolism.
“Citali stands in the bushes and watches a girl speared and cast into the fire. Citali screams at the masked lady emerging from the jungle, vowing to cut her heart out, then flees. Before the deed occurs, the girl and Citali change clothes. Do you see what I mean?”
“Uh, no.”
“Very well. Let us take them one by one, starting with the changing of clothes. This appears to be a futile ruse, does it not? Why would the burly man have wasted time to have the two women change clothes? Would not it have made more sense for him to compel both Citali and the girl to flee for the river before the invaders arrived in the village? If he believed that was not a viable option, say, because the younger girl was too small to outrun the invaders, it still does not explain the changing of clothes.”
“Forgive me for interrupting, Sanjay,” said Anlon, “Desperate people do stupid stuff all the time. Just because it was a futile ruse doesn’t mean the vision was a dream.”
“True, but ruse or no, I do not think the bonfire event ever happened. Instead, I think it was a dream that expressed Citali’s despair at causing the loss of her children, particularly of her daughter. Not that she did not care about the boys, but the loss of the daughter hurt her especially.
“In that light, the changing of the clothes strikes me as symbolism that tells us the girl was a reflection of Citali...a daughter. The masked lady emerging from the jungle? I think this is also symbolism. The masked lady in this scene is Citali, not Muran. Citali yells at herself, in a sense, for killing the daughter. When she screams she will cut out her heart, I believe she is really saying she cut out her own heart when she killed the children.”
“Now you’re just talking crazy,” Pebbles said. “The flood killed the new ones, not a bonfire.”
“Not true,” Cesar said. “The flood was a consequence of the fire she created to destroy the lake wall. The fire was the actual instrument of their deaths.”
Pebbles’ head swooned. They were wrong, she was sure of it. She replayed the scene in her mind. The girl on her knees before the fire, crying. Citali protesting the exchange of clothes, being told to run. Hiding behind the bushes, watching the girl die. People around her urging her to escape.
The more she considered the scene, the more Pebbles began to see the manipulative nature of it. It wasn’t my fault. There was nothing I could do to save her. I was told to run. I had to go. I had to protect what was given…
“The bag.” Pebbles shot a look at Sanjay. “You told me when I woke up from the bonfire vision, I said Citali forgot the bag. But she didn’t forget it, did she? It was gone. Because what it held was gone. The bag was a symbol too.”
“Yes, a bag slung around the hip…a womb…protecting precious objects inside,” Sanjay said. “We have Jennifer to thank for that insight.”
Pebbles turned toward Jennifer, who tapped the dream journals and said, “I didn’t believe Sanjay either, at first. I’m like, there’s no way the visions were dreams. But I started going through the journals and noticed that in some of your entries, Citali carries the bag on her back. In other ones, it’s slung by her hip. We think that distinction points out which of the entries are her memories and which are dreams. It explains why it was so hard for you to tell what was in the bag in some cases and not in others.
“All the entries where you said Citali reached in the bag to feel things, but you couldn’t make out what she was touching, were all entries where your journal said Citali reached into the bag by her hip. But the ones where she pulled out items like the torch in the mountain vision, or when she put her belongings in the bag at the temple, you wrote that she slung it over her back.”
Pebbles’ mind drifted to the aftermath of destroying the lake wall. Citali had started down the trail and slid her hand in the bag by her hip; she touched three orbs before she fell to the ground and started barfing. Three orbs…three eggs…three children.
“She didn’t take anything from the Maerlif,” Pebbles said. “When she smiled when she put her hand in the bag after destroying everything, it was her way of saying she’d done what she set out to do…protect her children…and that’s when it hit her!”
“We think you are mostly right,” Mereau said. “We think she did indeed take a beacon…as well as the Flash Stone and Port Stone, to use your vernacular for the stones. In your recital of the cave vision, you said she prayed before she broke open the Maerlif, begging for forgiveness. She asked for forgiveness again before she used the Sound Stone and once more before she knocked down the overhang and ledge with the Flash Stone. Remember also, she told the gold-painted man not to look back. She told him it was forbidden.”
As Mereau spoke, Pebbles recalled that among Munuorians, only a subset was taught to use their magnetic tools. Not because there was an elitism, but because of how the opposing polarities of the stones interacted with their users. It took time and training to teach users how to balance their emotions when using the stones. Use them when you were angry, and your internal rage could unleash tremendous destructive power. Use them when you were serene, and you could build monuments of grandeur…or help survivors of catastrophes.
Viewed in this light, Mereau’s commentary suggested Citali had begged for forgiveness not because she was about to destroy the Maerlif and the way to reach it, but because she had been forbidden to use the stones. She was the Keeper of what was given, not a trained user of what was given. Oh, she knew how to use the stones, all right, that much was obvious to Pebbles from the cave vision. But she was not supposed to use them. Pebbles stirred from her thoughts to find the others staring at her.
“Another vision?” Anlon asked.
“Uh…no. Just thinking.” She turned to Sanjay. “Okay. You sold me. So, what now? You said we should show her compassion. How?”
“Go to Three Sisters. Let the rest of the timeline of her memories play out. Summon her if you can. I will help you create mental imagery of a waterfall sanctuary to attract her consciousness, similar to what we did to create the oasis.”
“Okay, then what?”
“Let her mourn. Offer her forgiveness.
”
“Excuse me?”
“I see what he means, Pebbles,” said Anlon. “Citali died without properly mourning her loss. Muran chased her into the jungle and mortally wounded her, probably before she could even bury her children, presuming they were found before she died.”
“I get that. But offer her forgiveness?”
“You want her inside your head for the rest of your life?” Anlon asked.
“No, I don’t.” Pebbles turned to Sanjay. “You think if I forgive her, she’ll leave me?”
“I think it is possible,” Sanjay said. “Admitting guilt, confessing sins, asking and receiving forgiveness all provide us with inner peace. It is why the concepts of atonement and forgiveness exist in many theologies, past and present. We cannot offer Citali a deity’s forgiveness, but we can offer her our understanding. She made a terrible mistake in judgment that resulted in horrendous consequences. Citali knows that better than anyone else. She has lived with her remorse for eighteen hundred years. What is to be gained by letting her remorse linger? For her or for you?”
Even though Pebbles was still angry that Citali had plied her with deceitful visions for months, she understood that harboring anger toward Citali was unlikely to stop the visions. But what if offering forgiveness did not work? Pebbles was about to pose this question to Sanjay when his earlier advice came to mind.
Ah, but what if it does?
CHAPTER 22: MUDDY WATERS
Santa Rosa Hotel
Ayacucho, Peru
September 29
The late-night gathering broke up soon afterward. After grabbing a few hours of sleep, they reconvened in the lobby later in the morning to plan their trip to Three Sisters…and quickly discovered it would not be an easy or short journey.
To begin, the three-tiered waterfall was located approximately two-hundred-fifty kilometers from Ayacucho. Second, the remote site was inaccessible to automobiles. The closest road came to a dead end twenty miles short of the falls.
From the end of the road, one had two options to reach the falls. Either hike twenty miles through a dense, mountainous jungle forest or rent boats and go by river. The latter still involved a mile hike along the stream fed by the falls.
“Sounds like something out of an adventure movie,” said Jennifer.
“No kidding,” Anlon said.
“I vote for renting boats,” Pebbles said. “If we go by river, the scenery might stimulate more visions.”
“That assumes Citali traveled by river,” Sanjay said.
“I’m convinced she did. I’ve seen flashes of her in a boat on a river.”
“True,” said Mereau, “but you also have had visions of people chasing her through a forest.”
“Yeah, I know, but the river feels right to me. I can’t explain why. It just does.”
“Well, it is certainly more practical,” Cesar said.
“And faster,” Jennifer added. The others agreed.
Anlon stood. “Okay, that settles it. We go by river. I’ll go talk to the hotel concierge and see if she can find us a place where we can rent boats.”
When he returned from the consultation, he said, “Good news, bad news. The concierge hooked us up with an exotic travel group based in a town called Pichari. It’s about two hundred kilometers from here. They can take us to the falls by kayak, but they are booked for today. So, that means we’ll meet up with them tomorrow.”
“If we have to drive two hundred kilometers, that’s just as well,” Jennifer said. “We won’t get there until after dark tonight anyway.”
“We won’t be driving,” Anlon said. “Concierge said helicopter’s the best way to go. She’s working on booking us a charter right now. She said the trip’s about an hour. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.”
Anlon told the group the exotic travel company would take care of everything from kayaks to camping gear to guides. “They’ll set up camp for us near the falls, prepare meals, the whole megillah. I booked them for three nights.”
“Anlon, that sounds wonderful. Just one caution,” Cesar said. “The taxi driver told us the waterfall abuts the territory of an unfriendly indigenous tribe. While I supposed the tribe is probably used to adventure tourists stopping at the site to snap pictures or take a dip in its waters, I do wonder if they will tolerate multi-night campers.”
Mereau assured Cesar and the others that he could protect the group with his backpack collection of Munuorian Tyls if they were confronted. To boot, he reminded the archaeologist that Jennifer and Pebbles were experienced in wielding the ancient stones, so they had three potential defenders if the tribe appeared.
“I do not doubt your prowess with the stones,” Cesar said, “but these tribes know the territory far better than we do. And you must keep in mind, many indigenous tribes in the Amazon valley are fed up with encroachment on their native lands. They sometimes attack without warning, meaning they might strike us all down before we have a chance to defend ourselves.”
“It’s probably not of any comfort,” Anlon said, “but the guides coming with us carry side arms, not just because of the tribe. Apparently, river piracy can be an issue too.”
“Peachy,” said Pebbles.
“Hey, if any of you have got a better idea, I’m all ears,” said Anlon. “Whether we go by river or hike through the jungle, there are risks. I’m personally comfortable with the risks, but I don’t want to speak for you guys.”
Everyone first focused their attention on Pebbles. Without hesitation, she said, “I’m in if you guys are in.”
A quick show of hands showed everyone was willing to go, so Anlon returned to the concierge desk and finalized the travel plans. When he rejoined the group, he said, “We’re all set. As an FYI, I asked the concierge to find out whether it would be possible to have the pilots take a detour into the jungle for a fly-over of the waterfall on our way to Pichari. I think it’s worth the diversion to get a lay of the land. Assuming the pilots agree, any objections?”
No objections were expressed and so the group split up to begin packing for the trip. Later in the afternoon, Sanjay and Pebbles met up to rehearse a mental image of a waterfall sanctuary in the hopes that Pebbles could lure Citali for a direct conversation once they were near Three Sisters. The full group reconvened for dinner and then retired early.
In flight over Otishi National Park
Amazon Jungle, Peru
September 30
At eight the next morning, they boarded the chartered helicopter and flew toward Three Sisters Falls. As the terrain began to transition from mountain to jungle, Anlon peered out of his porthole window and marveled at the Amazon valley in the distance. It looked as vast as an ocean. Directly below, however, the jungle was marked by mountain ranges.
In one of these mountain ranges, they came upon the Three Sisters, so named for the three tiers of the waterfall as it flowed down the mountainside. Given the staggering height of the falls from top to bottom — three thousand feet — Anlon had expected to easily spot it when the pilot told them they were coming up on it. But amid the tree-covered mountains surrounding it, Anlon found it very hard to pick out the waterfall until they swooped into Cutivireni Canyon, the gap where Three Sisters was situated, and only then because Pebbles pointed it out.
He positioned the microphone of his headset in front of his lips and said to Pebbles, “The third tier looks like it drops into an abyss.”
“It’s deceiving, isn’t it? The pool at the bottom of the second tier looks like the end of the waterfall. But it spills over the edge and the third tier seems to disappear behind trees.”
“Does it look familiar?” Jennifer asked Pebbles.
“Not from this angle, but damn, how are we going to get to that? I don’t see any river. I don’t even see the stream at the bottom of the falls. There are too many trees. They’re too tall.”
Cesar asked the pilot whether he could circle around and give them a better look at the lower tier and stream. When the copter hov
ered above the area for a closer look, Anlon said, “I don’t see a pool at its base. It looks like the third tier goes directly into the stream.”
Mereau pointed out his window. “Yes but look at the streambed. Most of it is dry. Maybe there is a pool that forms there during heavy rains, or perhaps the flow of the falls was heavier during Citali’s time.”
“Good point,” Anlon said. “I have to keep in mind I should be looking at everything through the lens of eighteen centuries ago. I’ll tell you one thing, though, I’m sure glad we decided not to try to come here on our own.”
“No kidding,” said Jennifer. “I wouldn’t want to get lost in the jungle down there. Looks spooky.”
Sanjay and Pebbles used their cell phones to take many pictures of the falls and the surrounding area before the pilot veered away and flew toward the Cutivireni River to give them a look at the waters they would kayak.
Flying downriver, Anlon looked at the series of winding twists. From above, they looked like the curves of a slithering snake bordered by jungle on both sides. Despite its menacing appearance from the helicopter, however, the river flow seemed relatively placid. Anlon could see no evidence of rapids or smaller waterfalls.
As they neared the point at which the Cutivireni met up with the larger river it fed, the Ene, the constitution of both rivers changed quite a bit. The twists became more pronounced given the presence of small islands and sand bars that randomly interrupted their flows.
For the second time in less than an hour, Anlon was thankful they were part of a guided expedition. None but Jennifer and Cesar were experienced kayakers, and though Anlon was well accustomed to navigating boats on lakes and on the ocean, he was not accustomed to navigating jungle rivers. A wrong turn here or there around a sandbar or island might take them down unintended side streams. As it was, it appeared there might be spots where they might be forced to drag their kayaks over sand bars. Better to leave it to experts who knew the intricacies of traveling both rivers.
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