The Water Road

by JD Byrne

“Not in the sense that you mean, no,” he said, “nor am I a conventional Neldathi shaman. The word I prefer to use when describing myself is ‘acolyte.’ I am a conduit through which the Maker of Worlds works her will. There is a similar word in Altrerian—prophet—but I do not prefer it.”

  “Why is that?” Antrey asked. “Too much pressure to produce accurate prophecies?”

  “Precisely,” Goshen said, smiling slightly. “The most important thing is to manage expectations. Prophets are very bad for that.”

  Antrey fought the urge to say something clever about prophets and gods, but decided to keep it to herself. If her best bet for integrating herself into the clan was a deranged holy man, so be it. “I’ve never heard of this Maker of Worlds. Is she the protector of the Dost?”

  Goshen shook his head. “You misunderstand me. The Maker of Worlds is not the protector of the Dost. She is not the protector of any single clan, or even of the Neldathi people as a whole. The Maker of Worlds is the one true god. She is the protector of us all, in a sense. Of all Neldathi. Of all Altrerians, whether they believe it or not. Of all such as yourself, as well, of course.”

  Antrey appreciated the fact that he sidestepped the word “halfbreed” in referring to her. Regardless, this Maker of Worlds did not fit with her knowledge of Neldathi religious beliefs. “I must be missing something,” she said. “Everything I’ve read about Neldathi religion, or even Altrerian religion for that matter, says that each group worshiped an entire host of gods. The main difference between the Altrerian and Neldathi views of the gods was that the Altrerians recognized them all equally, while the Neldathi clans each had a particular relationship with a god or goddess who acted as a protector. Before the Great Awakening, of course,” she said, almost as an afterthought.

  He nodded. “You are not mistaken. That is the current state of affairs, I am afraid.”

  “Then where does you Maker of Worlds fit in?” Antrey asked.

  “Let me ask you a question, Antrey,” he said, leaning in over the table as if he had a great secret to share. “How much do you really know about the gods and goddesses?”

  “Not a lot, I must admit,” Antrey said. “I don’t even remember the name of the protector god for the Kohar, into which I was born. Not that it matters very much.”

  “Of course it matters,” Goshen said, his face lighting up. “Alun, the keeper of the two moons, is the protector of the Kohar. He was a favorite of the Lesser Telebrians as well, prior to the Great Awakening.”

  More fascinating to Antrey than the details of the Neldathi pantheon was how Goshen came to learn all this. “How do you know what the Lesser Telebrians did before the Great Awakening? Where did you read about that? How did you read about that? I think it’s time I learned something about you, Goshen. After all, you know so much about me.”

  “Very well,” Goshen said with a sigh. “It is only right, if we are to embark on this project together, that you know as much about me as I know of you.” He leaned back and made himself as comfortable as possible on the wooden stool. “I was born to the Elein, one of the two original Neldathi clans. They make their circuit around a large area in the southwest, between the Mosley Range and the Karn Mountains. I was a sick child. They said I was born too early to a mother who was not favored by Barhein, goddess of fertility and protector of the Elein. My mother and father were shamed by me, so they left me in Port Karn, the Islander city on the southern coast. The Elein pass near there before turning north for the winter.”

  “Port Karn?” Antrey asked. She knew that there were Islander outposts on the Neldathi coast, but never knew any of the names. “They would take you in there?”

  “More Altrerian nonsense,” Goshen said with a smirk. “They believe that fear of the Neldathi is a natural and rational state of mind. That is not true. The Islander cities on the Neldathi coast are just like any other city. Smaller than you found in Tolenor, no doubt, but they were still centers of trade, commerce, and learning. There is a small, but vital, Neldathi population that lived in those cities. Some live free from clan allegiance, as I do. Others maintain their markings. I was taken in by a kind couple who claimed no allegiance.”

  Antrey realized that she and Goshen had more in common than she could have imagined. She pressed on. “Were you educated in Port Karn?”

  “Not in any rigorous, formal tradition,” he said. “My parents could read, but only in a basic way. They used it for work only and taught their children to see it the same way. Then, when I was grown but still fairly young, I met a trader from the Slaisal Islands with whom I became close. He came to Port Karn once every year and he would bring me books. Altrerian books. I read every book be brought me, usually over and over. I absorbed them like a tree’s roots absorb water. There was one school in Port Karn back then, run for the benefit of the Islander children who were there. I convinced the teacher to let me into the building just before or after classes so I could get books out of the library.”

  “I understand,” Antrey said. “I felt the same way when Alban taught me to read and I discovered his library.”

  Goshen continued, as if he did not hear her, “Any time I was neither working nor sleeping, I was reading. Of all that I read, it was the tales of the gods that I most enjoyed. Every bit of Altrerian or Neldathi mythology I could find, I read and committed to memory. When the Elein would come near the city, I would go out to where they made camp and listen to the Speakers of Time tell their stories, about how the gods battled alongside them in the field.”

  “I still don’t understand how the Maker of Worlds plays into all this,” Antrey said, getting impatient.

  “Surely you have heard of the Maker of Worlds, Antrey, if that library you had access to was anything at all.”

  Antrey shrugged. “Maybe? But it doesn’t mean anything to me right now.”

  “Both the Altrerians and Neldathi have stories about how the world was made, you know. That is the Maker of Worlds. Perhaps not by name, but she is the one. The Neldathi story is that the Maker of Worlds dipped her hands into the Lake of Eternity and filled a void in the firmament with our world. The land was formed by a drop of blood that flowed from her palm, after she sliced it with a knife. Then she made the Water Road…”

  She was starting to remember now. “The Water Road was made when this goddess looked down and saw the people of her land constantly fighting one another,” she said. “She took a finger and drove it into the land, dividing the people. That made the Water Road. As a result, the ground heaved and split, creating the Neldathi mountains to the south and the Rivers Adon and Innis in the north. Right?” She was genuinely excited by her recall.

  Goshen smiled. “So you do know the Maker of Worlds,” he said.

  “As you must know, if you’ve read my journal, I read nearly every book in Alban’s library. There was at least one in there about the gods.”

  “I see,” Goshen said. “Name them.”

  “Name them?” Antrey asked, unsure just what he was driving at.

  “Name the gods and the goddesses,” he said. “You tell me their names and I will tell you which clan they protect.”

  “All right,” Antrey said, pausing to summon a name from her memory. “Fargan,” she said.

  “God of war and combat, protector of the Uzkaleyn, who roam the Rothery Mountains to our west,” Goshen said. “Next.”

  “Solal,” Antrey said.

  “Goddess of the sun, protector of the Chellein, for it is said that their lands to the east are first touched by her warmth each day. Of course, that is not strictly true, but that is not important at the present,” he said. “Next.”

  “Otven,” Antrey said, ticking off another name in her head.

  “Goddess of the wind and the snow, protector of the Akan, from the west of the Vander Range, south of the Hogarth Pass. Along with the Elein, the oldest of the clans. Next!” he said, his voice ringing with excitement.

  “Dagcht, I think?” Antrey said, certain she had the name wrong.<
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  “Yes, that is correct,” Goshen said. “God of the hunt, protector of the Volakeyn, who roam the valley between the Levin Mountains and the Vander Range. Keep going.”

  “Mamur,” Antrey said, certain of this one.

  Goshen nodded. “God of death and the underworld, protector of the Mugein, who circle the farthest reaches of the land to the southeast, where the snow never ends. Another.”

  “How about,” Antrey said, pausing to think. “Ainsof,” she said, mangling the pronunciation.

  “Yes, Ainsof,” Goshen said, slowly, for her benefit. “Goddess of the trees, the forests, and the creatures who dwell in them. She looks down upon the Haglein, who travel the western edge of the Kelly Range. Our neighbors to the west, for what it is worth. Go on.”

  This time, Antrey was drawing a blank. Her inability to summon another name was obviously ruining Goshen’s fun.

  “Think smarter, Antrey,” he said, trying to spur her along. “Think of the elements. What have we not talked about yet?”

  “Oh, I remember,” Antrey said as a name sprang to mind. “Kaneyn.”

  “Very good,” Goshen said, his good mood saved. “God of the waters, rivers, and lakes, protector of the Paleyn, who live in the Orford Range near the sea and Great Basin Lake. The story they tell is that Kaneyn himself dwells in the depths of the lake.”

  “Is that true?” Antrey said, immediately scolding herself in her mind for even entertaining the idea. She blamed Goshen for shifting her in to a mythological mindset in which she was willing to believe anything.

  “Of course not,” Goshen said, gently scoffing at her, “for reasons that will soon be made plain. There are two others.”

  Antrey’s chagrin focused her recall. “Zein,” she said.

  Goshen smiled. “The goddess of time and patience. An odd protector, to be certain, but nonetheless beloved by the Sheylan, to the south of the Paleyn in the Orford Range. Now, what is the final one?”

  “Var,” Antrey said brightly, proud of herself. “I almost forgot about…hey, wait a minute…”

  Goshen cut her off before she reached the conclusion. “Yes, Var, the trickster god and keeper of secrets. The protector, of course of…” he paused long enough for Antrey to join him in the answer.

  “The Dost,” they said in unison.

  For some reason that made Antrey laugh, a deep, raucous laugh that she had not had in a very long time. When she stopped, Goshen told her, “I knew you were familiar with the gods. All that reading served you well.”

  “Thank you,” Antrey said. In spite of the compliment, she remained confused. “So we’ve covered the gods and the goddesses, but I still don’t see where your Maker of Worlds fits into all this.”

  “Let me ask you this,” Goshen said, deliberately avoiding a direct answer. “You are familiar with the Maker of Worlds from the creation stories. Yet, as we went through the pantheon of the gods and goddesses, she is not present. She is the protector of no clan. Does that not strike you as odd? None of the Neldathi clans have ever worshiped her, nor did the Altrerians.”

  “I never really gave it any thought,” Antrey said. “But I thought the story said that the Maker of Worlds went away after she lashed out at what she had made? How could she be part of the pantheon if she went away?”

  “A very wise observation,” Goshen said. “The Maker of Worlds did go away. And left behind was a void, a void that was filled by Solal and Var and the rest. It was a way for our ancestors to give meaning to their existence, to understand the nature of the world around them.”

  “Are you suggesting that the traditional Neldathi gods don’t exist?” Antrey asked. “That’s a strange position for a holy man to take, you know. You’d be right at home amongst the Altrerians,” she said with a chuckle.

  “Oh, no, that is not true,” he said in a stiff, formal way that told Antrey he was insulted by the idea. “It is more complicated than that. I do believe in the gods, in all of them. They are very real. But I have come to the conclusion that they do not exist in the way most Neldathi believe they do, or even how the Altrerians once believed. Instead of individuals, they are manifestations of something greater.”

  Antrey had no answer to that.

  “Do you know the story of the peddler and the raft?” Goshen said, breaking the silence.

  Antrey shook her head.

  “Long ago, there was a peddler. This man sold poorly made products for exorbitant prices, up and down the River Adon,” Goshen said. “He could not swim, so he constructed for himself a small raft out of reeds that could carry him up and down the river, as well as across it. He would go to a village, sell his goods, and then, before the people of the town discovered the poor qualities of the goods, the peddler would run to his raft and float away.”

  “Sounds like a lovely character,” Antrey said.

  Goshen continued, undaunted, “The peddler did this for many years, during which time he made very many people very angry. Over that time, his raft began to come apart, so that the water of the river lapped up around his feet as he floated. One day, after having made his escape from an angry crowd of villagers just in time, he floated downstream to safety. When he arrived on the riverbank, he saw that his raft had nearly sunk and was no longer of any use except as kindling once it was dry. He pulled the raft from the water in order to break it up for that purpose. About this time, an old man with a crooked back happened by. The old man’s eyesight was very poor, so the peddler tried to sell him the raft. Of course, to do so the peddler had to lie to the old man about the condition of the raft and told him it would serve him well for many years to come. Convinced, the old man bought the raft. With the money he made, the peddler made his way to the nearest village in search of entertainment.”

  “I think I see where this is going,” Antrey said, the tale beginning to seem somewhat familiar. “What happened next?”

  “The peddler made merry with drink and women in the village for several days, to the consternation of the village elders,” Goshen said. “They sent emissaries to nearby villages and soon learned that the peddler was a thief. Since they knew where the peddler was, dozens of people from the surrounding villages came to seek revenge on him. When the peddler awoke the next morning, he was driven from his bed by a crowd wielding rakes, clubs, and crude spears. His instinct took over and he ran to the river. It was only after he arrived at the riverbank that he remembered his raft was gone. Panicked, he looked up and down the river until he saw a young boy several hundred feet downstream tying something to the stump of a small tree. He ran to the boy as fast as he could.”

  Goshen paused, as if setting up the big twist. “It was a raft the boy was tying up. First, the peddler tried to convince the young boy to give the raft to him because he was in mortal danger, but the boy was suspicious and did not agree. Then the peddler offered the boy a gold coin, pulled from his still stuffed purse, to purchase the raft, which appeared to be new and stout. The boy rejected that offer, telling the peddler that the raft was worth much more. As the crowd of angry villagers appeared over a hill not one hundred yards away, the peddler told the boy he would pay any price. The boy demanded the peddler’s entire purse and all the coins inside. The peddler hastily agreed, handed the purse to the boy, and jumped on the raft. The boy untied the raft for him and it began to float slowly out into the river.”

  Antrey thought about jumping into the story at this point, but kept silent and allowed Goshen to finish.

  “The peddler turned and saw the angry crowd arrive, moments too late. He started to laugh, but was quiet when he began to feel cold water rushing around his ankles. The peddler looked down at the raft and saw it was no longer new and stout. It fact, it looked just like the raft he had floated into town on a few days before. He began to sink, but could not think of anything to do about it. He looked back to the shore, where the boy was standing, holding his purse and smiling. As the crowd arrived, the boy simply disappeared. It was as if no one else had even seen him. The c
rowd stood on the riverbank and threw rocks at the peddler and his raft until he slipped beneath the River Adon and drowned.” He sat back on the stool with a proud look on his face.

  Antrey was unsure what to say to this. “All right, so this is a story about one crook who gets humbled by another one, right? I’m not sure I get it.”

  “Not a crook,” Goshen said, wagging his finger. “A trickster. The old man, the young boy, they were both manifestations of Var. Var learned of the peddler’s deceitful ways and decided to put a stop to them. He bought the peddler’s old raft and ensured the peddler would need it for his rescue.”

  Antrey was getting more frustrated by the moment. “Look, Goshen, the old stories are fun and interesting to hear, but I’m still not seeing what any of this has to with your Maker of Worlds.”

  Goshen sighed. “You are being too literal, Antrey,” he said. “Neither the old man nor the young boy were actually real. They appeared as manifestations of Var. They existed in this world only to the extent needed to inspire belief, temporarily, as the situation dictated.”

  Something in Antrey’s mind clicked with recognition. “The same way that Var and Ainsof and all the others exist only enough to inspire belief,” she said.

  “Until the Maker of Worlds is ready to return to her creation,” Goshen said, interrupting her to complete the thought. “Now you understand.”

  Antrey sat still and silent while the idea sank in and she tried to understand just what it meant. The first thing that flashed through her mind was also the most ludicrous, but she needed to eliminate it as a possibility. “And you know this because…the Maker of Worlds told you?” she asked.

  Goshen began to laugh, quietly at first and then so heartily that tears welled in his eyes. “Oh, no, of course not,” he said. “That would make me a madman, would it not?”

  Antrey nodded, still reluctant to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  “No, my belief about the Maker of Worlds did not come to be in some instant flash of revelation. I only came to it after years of travel amongst many of the clans. Listening to the Speakers of Time. Learning about how the clans do, or do not, interact with their protectors,” he said.