by Ada Haynes
That rejection of anything foreign applied to human beings as well. Ekbeth himself conducted a lot of business with the Aiarz’in when he was not on the Other side. But it was expected of him to conduct those transactions on Aiarz’in territory—certainly not to let them come into the Valley. Outsiders were not welcome. There were some exceptions, of course—the main one being when an As’mir brought a wife from outside the Valley.
The irony of the fact was not totally lost on him.
He did not want to think of the Aramalinyia’s latest decision. It had been difficult enough already to convince Matheson this was not a joke and that, no, Ekbeth was not happy about this at all, but he would not have any choice and neither would Shona.
Matheson had left Zurich this morning with more warnings and death threats.
As if Ekbeth needed them.
He began walking down the steep stairs. He was not as lazy as most of his family. He had learned his way through the place. Everywhere he could see the preparations that had been made for the coming celebration. Some houses had been freshly painted. New lamps had been installed. And the stairs had been cleaned up. They were not as slippery as he remembered from his last visit.
For months he had been complaining to the High Council about that. No one cared. But during the Aras’arisidz, no transfers were allowed. So, suddenly, cleaning the streets had become a priority.
Well, he was certainly glad for the improvement. And at this hour, he had pretty much the place to himself. That was, until he entered the Na Duibhnes’ house, his house. There was a small group of old men installed in the entrance hall. They noticed him as soon as he entered the room. Ekbeth recognized his uncle Es’ael among them. Great.
“Ekbeth! Finally! You have to do something about the McLeans! They have to leave!”
Just as he had expected. Ekbeth briefly closed his eyes and prepared for the battle.
“You’re not going to do anything against the McLeans, Es’ael! Their blood is as As’mir as ours and, as far as I know, the High Council has not banished them. They are entitled to participate in the Aras’arisidz if they wish!”
“They were not banished because of your father’s weakness! If he had listened to us then, there would have been no McLean left to laugh at us today!”
Why was his family so bloodthirsty? The McLeans had paid for the mistake of a single member of their family dearly enough.
“I won’t discuss it! My father made the right choice at the time. And now I am the Akeneires’el here, not you! The McLeans are to be left alone! If anyone dares to disobey this order, I’ll personally vote for his banishment from the Valley, is that clear?”
He did not wait for their answer. He was as angry as they were by now. Using his title to obtain their obedience was the easiest way to stop their complaints and he hated it, but, on the other hand, it spared him hours of futile arguing.
“I have to prepare for the ceremony. If you’ll excuse me.”
Es’ael put himself in front of him, preventing his escape. “Not so fast. Why has your bodyguard brought that woman to the Aramalinyia? Who is she?”
Ekbeth gritted his teeth. “I’m sure the Aramalinyia or one of her servants has answered that question.”
“Only that she’s being tested. An Oyyad! That’s something we haven’t seen in a long time. But who is she?”
Apparently the Aramalinyia had not communicated her decision to the rest of the community yet. A small blessing. There might still be some hope he could make her change her mind. Though there was almost no chance that this would happen.
Ekbeth tried to smile. “I don’t know. I was just asked to bring the woman.”
Another uncle pointed at the box Ekbeth was carrying under his arm. “Are those the Annilis jewels?”
“Yes. And now, I really have to go and dress. Es’ael?”
The old fool let him walk away this time.
Ekbeth was glad none of them had asked to see the content of the box, as it was almost empty.
He only had the one piece to show.
Bringing the box and pretending all was well was just delaying his fate. Ekbeth still did not know why he was doing that. Once the Valley was closed—and that was going to happen in the next half hour—there was nothing he could do to avoid the inevitable punishment. Because one thing was certain: the remainder of the jewels was on the wrong side of the Veil.
He put the box in his study, in a special hole in the wall only he was supposed to know about, then rushed to his bedroom, where his servants and his clothes for the ceremony were waiting for him.
The past two days he had had plenty of time to think about what was worse: having to marry Shona or being killed for having lost the community most precious treasure.
He had not yet made up his mind.
*
As he had feared, he was the last one to enter the open space by the Lake they called their temple, but he was not too late. Still, the members of his family were glaring at him. He had disgraced them, but he could not care less.
Thankfully, talking was not allowed within the temple compound, which suited Ekbeth perfectly because his family would have to wait patiently until the end of the ceremony to air their grievances.
He looked lazily at the assembly.
All the As’mir community was present tonight. The Aras’arisidz, their tribute to the Goddess Ara, took place only every ten years and lasted two weeks. Each day was dedicated to a particular aspect of their life, with its own rites and festivities. The two first nights were devoted to prayers with a day of fasting in between, their thanks to Ara for her protection. Only then would they truly begin to celebrate. There would not be much sleep, but a lot of dancing, eating and drinking. It was fun, which explained why nobody, however young or old, wanted to miss it.
Someone managed to get Ekbeth’s attention by pinching his arm through the several layers of his clothes. It had to be Es’ael, of course. Talking might be forbidden, but there were no rules against gesturing, and his uncle was now doing that, pointing with his finger to the opposite corner of the place.
The servants had lit the place so brightly that Ekbeth had to squint to see anything that far. He saw what his uncle was pointing to.
The McLeans were placed just opposite Ekbeth’s family. That was another reason for the Na Duibhnes to be angry.
An acolyte struck the gong. Ekbeth firmly held the extra layers of his tiki, his outer coat, and proceeded ceremoniously to the center of the temple. There he joined the other Akeneires’elin, heads of the As’mirin families. They were no more than thirty in total, and he was the youngest.
The social structure of the As’mirin was in itself quite simple, an inheritance of the past. The population was divided in families, easily recognizable by one’s hair color. Within that clan, a few were chosen to form a Council. The family Council made decisions for everything that concerned the family. They elected an Akeneires’el, a sort of Head Administrator but also their representative at the High Council. The High Council was thus a meeting of all the families. It was rarely called for, as ancestral rulings were almost never discussed.
Only one person had more influence and power than the High Council: the Aramalinyia, the chosen of their Goddess Ara. Always a woman, whose word was law—a woman who now silently appeared in the middle of the Akeneires’elin circle, as if to reinforce her importance.
She lifted her arms majestically above her. The gong reverberated again. As if a well-rehearsed act, all the assembly kneeled.
Another gong.
The prayers began.
15
The first thing Shona felt when she was finally allowed to return into her physical body was the sharp pain coursing throughout her body. The ribs hurt the worst, but she also had cramps everywhere, as though she’d stayed in one position for far too long.
Even breathing proved hurtful. She forced herself to breathe in deeply. Once. Twice.
Something moved on her right side, but she ke
pt her eyes closed.
Another breath. And another. She tried to move her toes and her fingers. The pain of doing this brought tears to her eyes, but she kept trying. Eventually her extremities started to respond.
That was it. One step at a time.
“I think she’s awake. Look she’s moving her fingers.”
Shona cringed. The voice was far too loud for her ears. Thankfully, another person was there who was more careful. Shona felt fingers touching her brow, then her wrist, the sprained one. But the touch was so light, she did not care. And the person whispered when she talked to her. “Oyyad?”
Oh yes, that was her, Shona thought.
She made a big effort to open her eyes. She was seeing everything triple at first, but eventually, her eyes focused. Two women were bent over her. One with flashy blue hair, young, the other with light violet hair, and more mature.
That took her back. What was this?
The violet haired one put a feather light hand on Shona’s brow.
“Do not fear. We mean no harm. You gave us a fright, you know? It’s been a time since someone has gone through the Oyyads’erel. You were gone far much longer than we expected. Are you thirsty? Hungry? I would not be surprised if you are famished after three days.”
Hungry? Three days? It did not make sense. Right now, she mostly felt nauseated.
“You’re a bit warm. And your eyes are feverish. I see you have difficulty moving. How is your head? Can you move it?”
Shona moved her head slightly side to side. She gritted her teeth.
“Mm-hm,” the older woman said, “I think something for the pain would help.”
No! Shona was too weak to speak. But she managed to grasp the woman’s wrist. That got her attention. Shona shook her head, forcefully. And damn it if her head was playing bells inside. She had to get the message through.
The woman seemed surprised. “No? But…”
Shona kept shaking her head. Then tried… “Allergies.”
It sounded all wrong to her, but the woman apparently understood. “Ah! I see. Well, I suppose a cold cloth on your brow would at least help a bit.”
Shona let go of the woman. A few movements and she was drained of all energy.
She closed her eyes.
16
The sound of the gong was supposed to keep the As’mirin awake, but instead it was lulling Ekbeth to sleep. He was so tired! He only succeeded in alternating standing and kneeling by sheer willpower. No Akeneires’el had ever fainted during a religious ceremony. He did not want to be the first.
Kneeling once more, he swore silently: the rest of the community had been preparing for this night for months. He had not only been busy with his own activities, but had also cumulated a number of sleepless nights because of Shona and the jewels. He wanted his bed badly.
At last, the first light of dawn touched the temple and a final gong marked the end of the first night of prayers. He knelt a final time, touching the ground with his head, holding the position for a few seconds, then the first night of prayers was over. They were free to go until sunset.
Ekbeth knew he had survived the worst of it. Now, he would be able to get some sleep and the second night would be easier. But before going to bed, he had a few things to do. One of them was avoiding his family as much as possible. He sighed soundlessly, looking around him, at the As’mirin community slowly dissolving out of the temple, noticing how some carefully ignored others.
Feuds, conflicts, complex intrigues. Kse’Annilis was a nest of snakes ready to bite one other to death at the first occasion. He briefly closed his eyes, trying to control the anger he felt every time he was confronted with this fact. This was not how it was supposed to be. There were so few of them left, not even five thousand, of which one tenth was his own family. They were an old civilization. They should know better and be able to live in harmony together.
His eyes met two of the other Akeneires’elin’s and he shuddered. Even at the highest level of the As’mir community, there was dissension. That Duncan McLean hated him, he could understand. It was not entirely personal, nor fair, but Ekbeth’s own relatives had brought death and pain to the old man’s family. As those relatives were now dead, it was understandable that the hate had been transferred to Ekbeth.
But Keryl na Ghorm? The man was older than Ekbeth’s father, thin as a rod, and always scolding. The Na Ghorm had become Ekbeth’s worst opponent during the rare meetings of the High Council. He simply opposed anything Ekbeth proposed. As Ekbeth did not back down, their verbal fights had become famous in the whole community.
Thankfully, the rest of the Council did not always take the Na Ghorm’s side, but Ekbeth could still count his victories on his fingers. It was exhausting. There had to be a reason for this attitude, but Ekbeth still had to find it.
The primary outcome of this dissension was that most of the very much needed reforms were not happening. A second result—to Ekbeth’s eyes far worse—was that the Na Duibhnes’ and Na Ghorms’ families were not talking to each other anymore.
And this was only one example of the troubled relationships within the community. Each family had at least one issue with another. And then there were the internal problems.
Ekbeth ignored the small group of uncles who were glaring at him from one corner of the temple and resolutely walked away from them.
*
First, Ekbeth checked on Shona. Maybe not his best idea, considering the Aramalinyia’s plan, but the woman was their only hope to ever recover the Annilis jewels. If he knew where they were, at least, he might be allowed to live after all. Besides, he did not wish her dead, no matter what. Not really.
The Aramalinyia’s house was next to the temple. The only place partially built over the Lake, it was a splendor of architecture that could best be compared to a Venetian palazzo, with its complex arched windows and shadowed ornamented balconies. It was painted white, the neutral color, and even so early in the morning the sun made it painfully bright to sore eyes.
He hurried inside. One of the Aramalinyia’s servants brought him to Shona. She was in a small room next to the main hall of the Aramalinyia. Shona was lying on the bed, so still that he wondered for a moment whether she was breathing. Her skin had a nasty greyish tinge. But, when he was near enough, he saw her chest moving slowly up and down. Up and down.
“How is she?”
The servant shook his head. “Not well. She passed the test. She woke briefly after dawn. But the Oyyads’erel has taken too long. We are concerned for her health.”
Ekbeth wanted to ask some more questions about her chances of survival, but a loud roaring voice interrupted them. The servant frowned and left the room. Ekbeth followed him.
He had recognized the voice. Duncan McLean had always been loud when angry. But he had met his equal in the Aramalinyia.
When Ekbeth entered the main hall, he found the petite old woman on her feet, face to face with the much taller Akeneires’el of the McLeans thanks to the ornate platform on which her seat was placed. Although her voice was not as loud as McLean’s, her anger was just as clearly audible.
“You will do as I say!”
Duncan McLean’s face was as red as his scarlet tunic. “She’s a criminal, Aramalinyia! A murderer! Even her own mother turned her back on her! I don’t want her in my family!”
The Aramalinyia took a step back, but her expression remained stern. “The Ke’As’mirin have judged her and let her live. I was told she’s changed her ways. Everyone deserves a second chance, Duncan McLean. We’ll give her that.”
“Fiona told you this, didn’t she? She’s always reproached me for what I did.”
“Your sister has nothing to do with this. Someone else, not of your family, asked me to help the woman. And yes, that person also told me of Shona’s past. I consulted the Goddess. Ara told me to put the woman through the Oyyads’erel. Ara told me she has plans for her. To the good of this community.”
Duncan McLean snorted loudly at that.
Ekbeth managed to hide his smile.
The Aramalinyia was their Goddess Ara’s voice. A Goddess whose existence no As’mir doubted. Ara had ways to make herself heard. Speaking through her representative was only one of them. But the Goddess had been silent for so long that nowadays people were a bit dubious when the Aramalinyia said she was speaking the Goddess’s will, thinking it was just a way for the woman to impose her will on stubborn people.
Though no one was foolish enough to say it out loud, of course.
The Aramalinyia put herself back in her comfortable seat, and sighed loudly.
“Enough stubbornness, Akeneires’el of the McLeans! You have done a lot of wrong to this woman and her family. It is my right to punish you for that if I wish. Don’t forget it! Instead, I am honoring your family in presenting her to the Ke’As’mirin! And you will acknowledge her during the naming ceremony! Am I clear?”
Duncan McLean grumbled something Ekbeth did not catch. But then the Aramalinyia noticed Ekbeth. “Ah! Another of my Akeneires’elin. Come, come, Ekbeth na Duibhne! I’m glad to see you.”
Ekbeth walked to the platform and bowed deeply before her.
“Are you bringing complaints to me as well?”
The challenge was unmistakable.
Ekbeth had hoped to be able to speak to the old woman and make her change her mind about the wedding. But he killed the idea. Now was not a good time. Not when she was still so angry. “No complaints, Aramalinyia. I just overheard the Akeneires’el of the McLeans screams and was curious about them.”
She nodded curtly. “Good. I hope you got my message?”
Damn! He missed a perfect opportunity and they both knew it. He just bowed again.
“Good. I know you’re not happy about it, but this, again, is the Goddess’s will. Now, Akeneires’elin, I’m an old woman and I need to rest. I’ll see you tonight.”
Dismissed, both men left the room and the building.
Ekbeth was still digesting what he had just heard. “So, she’s a McLean? She told me that she was not!”
