by Maya, Tara
The Zavaedies and Tavaedies rocked back on their heels and laughed so hard they had to hold their jiggling bellies.
"Can you believe the gall of this fool?" they cried.
A small smile touched the Bone Whistler’s handsome face. He lifted the bone flute to his lips and began to play.
At the sound of his music, all the young people began to dance. The youngest children joined in, first, then the older ones, including my brother Vumo and me. Finally, the Initiates, the young men and women at the dawn of their strength and beauty, danced too. The Bone Whistler lifted his flute in the air and shouted, "All who believe in Sulula, follow me!"
And before their eyes, the Zavaedies and Tavaedies and elder aunties and uncles watched their sons and daughters follow the Bone Whistler out of the tribehold.
3. Resurrection
Those were the best days of my life. The Bone Whistler set up a camp in the hills outside the tribehold. Young people flocked to the call of his flute, but soon we were joined by others.
In the earliest days of our tribehold, many generations ago, all Tavaedies had danced six Chromas. Each generation, fewer and fewer dancers of all six Chromas were born, but it was still true that the more Chromas a dancer had, the more respect he earned. By the time I was born, there were almost no six-banded dancers left, but it was still a requirement that to advance from Tavaedi to Zavaedi, you had to dance two or more Chromas – to be Many-Banded, an Imorvae. The Morvae, dancers with just one Chroma, were made to feel inferior because of their supposed deficiency. They resented the restrictions against them, but they were powerless to change the rules.
The Bone Whistler changed all that. He not only welcomed the Morvae, he favored and flattered them. They were not inferior to Imorvae, he said, but in fact quite superior! His own daughter was a Morvae, and she had a marvelous ability, though he didn’t tell us what it was. She had just passed her Initiation. That was Nangi, of course, and we would learn to our sorrow her power soon enough. All that mattered then was that if the Bone Whistler’s own daughter was a Morvae, it must be a matter of pride, not shame.
Morvae Tavaedies began to join our herd. Not just Initiates, either, as at first, but elders with great power. These, the Bone Whistler elevated to Zavaedies, earning their fierce devotion. I was twelve, my brother Vumo was eleven, and we could not wait for our Initiation. We already suspected we both had magic, for we could see the fae. We hoped we would both prove to be Morvae, which showed how much things had changed in just a few years.
The split between the Morvae and Imorvae had not yet grown to an unbridgeable gulf. On the contrary, in those days, it seemed all divisions between humanity were of little lasting import. The Bone Whistler attracted Imorvae followers too, not to mention droves of common people, for what he promised benefited all mortal kind.
He offered us eternity – immortality for the generation living, and the resurrection of the dead.
Resurrection! All our loved ones and ancestors would walk the earth again!
Immortality! We would dwell with them forever.
Free of death, free of sorrow, a thousand years of gold tomorrow, all this would come to pass and more, the blind would see, the mute would sing, no drought would sting, no flood would pour. In amazing hue each thing would glow as none had ever seen before. Sulula, the color no one had seen, would make all things new and strange, would conquer Death and grief and pain.
When our eyes were opened, when the Resurrection came, we would all see magic, we would all earn a Shining Name. We would all dance colors -- all the Six and Sulula too. No more would some have and others not. No more would some inherit greatness like the sky, the others only dirt and rot. We would all have wings.
Our faith was proved by astonishing events. Miracles happened. Dancers besides the Bone Whistler began to see Sulula, and then to dance this marvelous new Chroma. It was most common in new Initiates, but some of the Zavaedies the Bone Whistler had chosen discovered they could now see and dance Sulula, who never had before. Whenever a new Sulula Tavaedi arose, the crowds would go with him or her to the Bone Whistler, who would confirm, "Yes! I see Sulula in your aura!"
I could never see anything in their auras, but I was not yet an Initiate, and often could not read auras well, so I didn’t worry. I was sure my power would come in time.
One day, Vumo and I were in the crowd when a beautiful young woman stood up and walked to the stage in front of the Bone Whistler. She was utterly, starkly, ravishingly naked. We, and every male in the herd, watched her in shock and joy as she began to dance, absolutely nude. We laughed and clapped and thought her mad.
Her uncle, though himself a follower of the Bone Whistler, was not so happy at her display.
"What are you doing, toad-headed girl? You are humiliating yourself and me! Why are you dancing without a mask or a scrap of clothing?"
"Oh, uncle!" She laughed, quite sure of herself, "You cannot see, but I am wearing mask and dress, all of shining Sulula, and I am dancing Sulula too!"
We stopped our mocking, uncertain then. She looked naked to us, but only the most powerful Zavaedies could see Sulula. Everyone looked to the Bone Whistler.
He studied her while she danced.
"O my people!" he cried. "I have never seen a stronger dancer of Sulala! She is a gift indeed to us all! What is your name, great Lady?"
Her uncle hurried forward. "I am Sambolo! She is my niece, Gladola!"
"Congratulations!" said the Bone Whistler. "She is destined to be the new Vaedi! Her aura of Sulula shines so brightly I suspect even those who have never seen it before must surely see the glow! Dance, Vaedi, dance, that even the weakest among us may witness and believe!"
Gladola began to dance again. I still saw no light about her, none at all. I cursed my own lack of magic.
Someone in the crowd leapt to his feet. "I am not a Tavaedi, but I see it! I see Sulula!"
"I am a Tavaedi, and I see it too!" exclaimed another voice from the crowd.
"I see her dress too – how beautiful it is!"
"I see it too!"
"I see Sulula!"
Soon people all around us jumped up to testify they could see Gladola’s aura of Sulula, her dress of Sulula, her crown of Sulula, her blinding Pattern of Sulula light.
Beside me, Vumo squinted and squirmed. Then happiness lit his face. He pointed. "I think I see it too, Vio! Can you see it? Can you see Sulula?"
I stared at her with all my might. The sun shone on her naked breasts and thighs, glinting off the sweat sheened skin. I had never seen anything so beautiful in my whole life. Maybe she was beautiful because she shimmered with the light of Sulula. So maybe… maybe I could see it! I told myself I could, and as soon as I was sure I had seen it once, I didn’t worry whether it flickered in and out, making it difficult for me to catch sight of it again.
"Yes!" I shouted. "I see it! I see Sulula!"
"So do I!" said Vumo. We both jumped up and down with the rest, screaming, "I see it! I see Sulula!"
#
You may ask. Did I really see Sulula?
In later years, I asked myself that question many times.
I saw hope. I saw my friends. I saw my brother. I saw the future. I saw eternity. I saw a world without war, without disease, without cruelty. I saw peace and light and beauty and love, triumphant, unending and untainted. I saw, I believed. And for me, because my faith was the color of Sulula. I saw Sulula.
4. Prognostication
Everyone wanted to know. How would we bring about the new day? When would Sulula shine over everything, making all the world new, giving us the wings of immortality and resurrecting our dead? We all looked to the Bone Whistler for answers, but it was always Gladola or her uncle Sambolo who answered questions about the prophecy. We did not differentiate at the time, for the Bone Whistler always stood behind them, supporting them with tunes on his flute, but we were to be reminded of it later.
"To bring about the New Day, you must cleanse yourself of the o
ld," announced Gladola. "You must kill every head of cattle, every horse in your kraal, every goat and every bird. You must burn your fields clean of every crop. Then build for yourselves new kraals and new granaries, to hold the overflowing bounty that will come to you. For on the New Day, Sulula–colored aurochsen and Sulula-hued horses will appear and the granaries will overflow with Sulula corn and beans. No more shall we have to labor for our food, all will come to us of its own. But only those who show their faith will be rewarded with the bounty. Those who are blind to Sulula will be unable to find or eat the new things."
Vumo and I had brought our aunt and uncle into the flock, along with our sister and cousin. Our father, however, had been suspicious of the Bone Whistler from the start, and when he heard the prophecy he declared the man was either a damn fool or a charlatan. When we defended the Bone Whistler, our father shouted at us. He chased us at spear point from our mother’s house and ordered us never to return.
We moved permanently into the Bone Whistler’s camp, where we had spent most of our time before anyway.
We attended rallies of the Bone Whistler. These were often led these days by Sambolo, the uncle of the presumptive Vaedi, Gladola.
"I see Sulula!" he shouted. "What do you see?"
"We see Sulula!" the crowd roared.
"What do you see?"
"We see Sulula!"
"What do you see?"
"We see Sulula!"
We shouted. We danced. Potters and tanners and herders danced, unashamed, unmasked, shoulder to shoulder with Tavaedies and Zavaedies. Morvae were the equal of Imorvae. We were all sisters and brothers. We all shared a single Chroma. We all danced Sulula. We danced the new, the ultimate taboo. We danced a new world into being.
And piercing the roar of the crowd, we could always hear the haunting melody of the flute of the Bone Whistler.
The more people joined the flock, the more the old Rain Maker and the Zavaedies still loyal to him feared and hated the Bone Whistler. They wanted to stop us. The elders of the tribehold also loathed the Bone Whistler, who had turned their own children against them. They urged the Rain Maker to do something.
He invited the Bone Whistler to return to the tribehold to talk, but the Bone Whistler refused.
"If you want to talk to me, come out here, into my camp, and talk," the Bone Whistler replied through a messenger.
Of course, at first, the Rain Maker responded in fury to this insult. But what could he do? There was still no acknowledged Vaedi in the tribehold, and he lost followers by the day.
I was there, in the first several rows of witnesses, at the historic meeting when the Rain Maker finally agreed to come out to the Bone Whistler’s camp. A sept of his Zavaedies came with him. They wanted the Rain Maker to say once and for all whether the color Sulula existed or not. We, on the other hand, wanted the Rain Maker to acknowledge Gladola as the Vaedi, and step down to let the Bone Whistler be her new War Chief.
The Bone Whistler held a feast for his visitors. Many of his most loyal followers were invited, including children such as Vumo and me, who had been with him from the start. But if we expected the Bone Whistler to repay the rudeness the Zavaedies had shown him, we underestimated him. The Bone Whistler proved the most gracious of hosts. After plying with his guests drink and victuals, he addressed the Rain Maker by name, as an equal.
"Thank you for coming, Wuko. I know it was not an easy decision." He smiled gently. "I don’t know if you realize this, but I knew your wife, Nyala. She deserved her reputation as the most beautiful human woman in all of Faearth. Even a fae lord would have been hard-pressed to resist her. I truly sorrowed when I heard of her tragic death." The Rain Maker, Wuko, frowned, but the Bone Whistler went on smoothly, "How glad you must be to know you will see her again soon."
"You know very well she is dead." Wuko scowled.
"And the dead shall soon rise from their graves and be again as we knew them."
"So you say."
"So I say. Ah, how you must be looking forward to holding her again. When the crowd of resurrected ancestors come thronging to find their loved ones, you will know her, I imagine, by the river otter fur she always used to wear on the trim of her dress. How will you greet her when she rushes into your arms? Have you thought of what you want to say to her first? Or will you simply lift her into the air and swing her for joy? For you yourself will be changed too. Your back won’t pain you as it does now, those winter white hairs will be summer brown again. And who will you greet next? Your mother or your father? Or the son you lost during the war with the Aelfae?"
Wuko could find no answer, but the Bone Whistler anticipated none.
He lifted his flute and played for the visitors.
Gladola danced, stark naked, as always. We were used to it by now, but the Zavaedies stared.
When she finished her dance, one of the Zavaedies laughed. "Fa! She is a fraud! She has no magic. Not a single Chroma. Tell them, Rain Maker. There is no such color as this so-called ‘Sulula.’ There can never be a new color. Denounce the sham!"
Wuko wrinkled his brow. His eyes darted hither and about, like restless birds perched on the cliff of his prominent nose.
"There are many more colors than those we give name to," he said slowly. "There are many shades, many tints and tones. Maybe there are colors no human has ever seen before." His wing-like eyelashes fluttered in rheumy doubt. "But." He coughed apologetically. "But where in the rainbow is this new color, this Sulula, found? Is it to the far side of Red or does it hide on the other side of Purple? Is it between Orange and Yellow or between Green and Blue? No one can seem to agree. I hear arguments from all sides. When no-one can agree on what this Sulula is, or where to place it, or what things in nature are colored this color, it is hard, very hard…" He pinched his lips. His gaze took flight to a far horizon, deliberately fleeing the eyes of anyone in the assembly. "But I cannot say it doesn’t exist. I have never seen it myself. How can I say what others have seen? I have seen things and colors no-one else has seen, how can I say what others have seen?"
"But, Rain Maker," his companion insisted, gritting his teeth at this betrayal, "Why is it only now that humans can see this supposed new color? Isn’t it more likely that this man is lying, leading people to pretend to see something which isn’t there at all?"
"How can I say what others have seen?" repeated Wuko. "How can you?"
Sambolo leaned forward. "Then you will accept my niece as Vaedi?"
Wuko would not go so far. "The Vaedi must have Six Chromas. She must be able to dance the Rainbow. That is our oldest law. Whether this girl dances Sulula or not, whether Sulula is a real color or not, it is not the rainbow. This girl cannot be Vaedi."
So nothing was decided and neither side left satisfied. However, in the aftermath of the meeting a strange thing happened. Though Wuko had actually said he’d been unable to see Sulula, in Gladola’s dance or anywhere at all, because he also had refused to say it could not exist, rumors became confused as they spread. First, people were excited because he had not denounced Sulula, which in the telling became that he had seen it himself, which in further telling became that he had indeed endorsed Gladola as Vaedi, but his own Zavaedies would not let him bring her back to the tribehold. Because of this, many people who remained loyal to the Rain Maker, and even more of those who had been wavering, now took the Bone Whistler’s prophecy seriously.
More and more people took the pledge to bring about the new day. We knew the price of the resurrection would be to sacrifice the things of the present day. We prepared to slaughter our herds and burn our crops.
5. Anticipation
The prophecy of the Bone Whistler had spread far, past the tribehold, to clan-klatches and clanholds across the tribal lands of Rainbow Labyrinth, even to neighboring tribes. Though Sambolo resisted naming a date, at last he said that the new day would dawn the first full moon after the Spring Equinox. If, he cautioned, if we had purified the land by then, the new day would dawn.
&n
bsp; To purify the land, we must slaughter all our beasts and destroy our crops. Every family among us had some experience with this, for we had slaughtered aurochsen during the blood-cough plague, and burned crop seed ruined by rats. This was different, however, for this time, we were to hold nothing back. We were not trying to save a remnant, as before, but to destroy everything.
Manic merriment erupted. A prolonged festival of blood-letting began. People slaughtered their beasts in their yards, in kivas , in the road. These were good cattle, clean and safe, so they roasted the meat, and baked corn into loaves and cakes, and made delicious dishes of every sort. You could walk the length of the tribal lands of Rainbow Labyrinth and pause every hour on your way to feast with a different family.
This, I thought, must be a taste of how the new day would be. Before, because of the blood-cough plague, I had always gone a few bites short at every meal. My belly had never been really full. I was thirteen years old now. I had always lived with hunger – until now. For the first time, I had to drag my belly after me every time I rose from a meal.
And yet…
Everyone must have had secret doubts. Even I did, though, being young, my faith was stronger than most. These niggling fears only made us less tolerant of those who dared voice their doubts aloud, or worse, openly defied the prophecy.
My brother and I joined a gang of boys, one of many spontaneously formed, who roamed the countryside. We sat down at the feasts thrown by the believers and painted white skulls upon the houses of the doubters. At night, older boys, in bone masks and white war costumes would come to the marked houses, kill the hoarded aurochsen and take the seed from the granaries. Sometimes the doubters would give in and join us, dining on the feast before the flesh rotted. What else could they do?
They could fight back. Some did. This forced us to become more organized. We started spontaneously, as I said, but before long the Zavaedies loyal to the Bone Whistler organized our rabble into disciplined septs. All of these Zavaedies happened to be Morvae, though at this time, there were still Imorvae Tavaedies allied with us as well. Pitched battles became more common between the believers and the doubters.
