A late-season snow was falling in Vingin as Teo and Maurice hiked up the path to a chalet on the outskirts of the village. It was dusk, and Teo was certain no one had noticed them pass by. Footprints in the snow told him some of the other guests Maurice had summoned to the chalet had already arrived.
Three weeks earlier, Teo had told Maurice about the Sacred Writing of the Ancients. With a wry smile, Maurice observed that it wasn’t like Teo to keep secrets from him, though he understood that Teo’s winter patrol had prevented them from having any scholarly discussions. Maurice wholeheartedly affirmed Teo’s translation agenda. When Teo handed him the first chapter of the book of Beginning, Maurice had been astounded. He said the sentiments expressed in it were unlike anything in Chiveisian religion. Wisdom of this magnitude demanded further exploration, so Maurice had called a meeting of those he knew to be open to new ideas. “I suspect the fresh wind blowing in Chiveis is about to become a mighty gale,” he had said.
The chalet’s door opened as Teo and Maurice stepped onto the porch. Stratetix ushered them inside, then quickly closed the door behind them. “Greetings, Captain! You’re always welcome in my home!” He grinned through his gray beard and shook Teo’s hand, then turned toward the old professor. “And you must be Master Maurice. My daughter Anastasia holds you in high esteem.”
“As I do her,” Maurice answered.
“Your words are gracious. We look forward to hearing what you have to say. My chalet is small, but it is at your service.”
“Thank you for allowing us to use it this evening. Its privacy will be to our advantage.”
Stratetix introduced Maurice to Helena, and Teo was surprised when Maurice approached her and bowed, patting her hand in his palm. “You of all people will be pleased to hear my words tonight, Helena d’Armand,” he said. Maurice was then introduced to Rosetta, and he also acknowledged Ana and Lina, who returned his greeting with a courteous nod.
A knock at the door signaled the arrival of another guest. As Stratetix let him in, a ripple of surprise circulated through the room, but Maurice intervened. “Don’t be alarmed by this man’s garb,” he said to the startled group. “Though he wears the habit of the monks of Astrebril, this is my trusted friend Lewth. Rest assured, he shares our convictions—the convictions that prompted me to call this meeting.”
More footsteps sounded on the porch. Teo turned from the window and announced, “My student Shaphan is here.” He opened the door and shook hands with the handsome, olive-skinned youth, then said to the room, “Shaphan is a metalsmith by trade, and an excellent scribe as well. I know you’ll appreciate his friendship if you ever need a knife sharpened or a document copied.” The comment elicited polite laughter as Shaphan smiled and shuffled his feet. Introductions were made around the room for Shaphan’s and Lewth’s benefit, then everyone took a seat in chairs or on the floor. Only Maurice remained standing, his expression thoughtful and solemn.
The old professor stood tall in the center of the room, his hands folded into his sleeves as he waited for the stirring to cease. At last everyone quieted down. Candlelight flickered on the expectant faces huddled in a circle, and a hush of anticipation descended upon the group. The flames crackling in the hearth made the only sound. Maurice’s demeanor became serious, matching the mood in the room. Taking a deep breath, he spoke.
“The nine of us gathered here this evening have come from many walks of life, many divergent paths, many differing experiences,” he said. “Yet there is one thing that binds us, one thing we share in common: we have come to believe, each one of us, that the gods of Chiveis are not good.”
At those words, some in the room sucked in their breath, while others shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Maurice waited until things had settled again, then resumed speaking.
“Now listen to me, friends. If the gods are evil, we are to be pitied; for all men seek to worship something, and nothing is more piteous than worshiping the unworthy. But don’t despair—it isn’t for pity’s sake that I’ve called you to Stratetix’s home tonight. Instead I offer you hope!”
Maurice removed a scroll from his sleeve and held it up. He beckoned to Ana, who rose and came to stand beside him. At Maurice’s request, she described how she and Teo had entered the temple of the Ancients and discovered the Sacred Writing of Deu. When Ana finished her tale, she sat down amid whispers around the room.
From the corner, Lewth spoke up. “Master Maurice, don’t keep us in suspense any longer! What does the book say about this god named Deu?”
“There is much to tell, so I will let the book speak for itself. Professor Teofil has translated it, and he will retain the originals in a safe place. The scroll you see here has been diligently copied by Shaphan. I will read it to you now.” He cleared his throat. “The name of the first book is Beginning, and it opens with these words: ‘In the beginning, Deu created heaven and earth.’”
Maurice proceeded to read the first chapter of the Sacred Writing while the assembly listened with rapt attention. No one said a word as his sonorous voice filled the room. When he finished, he set aside the scroll and asked, “What do we learn about Deu from these holy words?”
Ana was first to speak up. “He is the Creator. We were made by him, man and woman, in his image.”
“In fact, everything is made by him,” Shaphan added. “In heaven and on the earth.”
“His power is indeed great if he has made all things,” Stratetix said in amazement.
“Yes, he’s powerful,” Helena agreed, “but he uses his power to bless. The book says he made the earth good.”
The comments came in rapid succession as the community of spiritual explorers attempted to make sense of the Sacred Writing. Teo could hear the excitement in their voices as they offered various interpretations. Everyone was animated and engaged, even young Lina, who suggested that Deu felt “clean” to her. Maurice beamed as he fielded questions and guided the conversation. As Teo watched the scene unfold, he purposely stayed out of the discussion. I’m just the translator of this book, not a disciple of its god, he reminded himself. I rely only on myself.
The candles had burned low and the hour was late when Maurice finally brought the meeting to an end with a word of warning and a promise. “My friends, tonight we’ve stepped across the threshold into a new era. There will be danger involved and perhaps sacrifice. We all know how the state cults frown on religious innovation. If the High Priestess hears about this, she’ll do everything she can to stop it, even if it means circumventing the law. Yet I believe the age of Deu is dawning in our realm. The time will come to testify openly about him. We will recognize that moment when it arrives. Until then, let us long for the day when the Chiveisi will turn away from idols to Deu as their God.”
“I will pray to be ready when that day comes!” Lewth exclaimed. Emphatic nods and murmurs of affirmation accompanied his bold statement.
With the meeting concluded, Stratetix thanked his guests for coming and showed them to the door. Since Lewth was facing a lonely hike up to the Temple of Astrebril, Maurice offered him hospitality at the University instead. Lewth nodded in appreciation. They stepped outside and started down the footpath toward Lekovil, along with Teo and Shaphan.
A few moments later, the sound of footsteps in the snow behind them caused Maurice to hold up his hand. “Someone’s following us!”
“It’s okay,” Teo said. “It’s Anastasia.” He stepped away from the group to meet her along the trail.
It was dark, but the stars were out, and Teo could see Ana was carrying a bundle in her arms. “I—I have something for you, Teo,” she said. Her voice held a note of shyness that took Teo by surprise.
“For me?”
She nodded and held up her bundle. “It’s a cloak. I made it from the skin of the bear that we took.” Ana draped it over Teo’s shoulders, then reached to fasten it at his neck. She looked up at him with a tentative smile, her eyes bright in the starlight. “It was because of this bear that I met you
,” she said softly. “I’m glad I did.”
As she said it, she dropped her eyes and stepped backward, but Teo recognized her gift as the vulnerable gesture it was. He moved toward Ana, standing so close to her it seemed the cloak had enveloped them both. He could feel her warmth against him. “Thank you,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll treasure it.” They remained like that for a long moment, until finally they separated, and Teo rejoined the men as Ana returned to the house.
“That’s a fine cloak, Professor Teofil!” Shaphan exclaimed. His voice was full of admiration as he stroked the bearskin garment.
“A symbolic gift from an excellent woman,” Maurice added. “May it always remind you that you faced the wild beast with Anastasia at your side.”
Teo gazed into the western sky and inhaled the night air. “Above me is more like it,” he said, then turned abruptly to the three waiting men. “Come on, let’s go home.”
The mountains of Chiveis often held surprises when it came to the weather, and today was no exception. The high terraces sometimes experienced temperature inversions in which warm sunshine bathed an elevated location like Vingin while a cold mist swathed Lekovil down on the valley floor. On this early spring morning, Ana dodged patches of snow as she hiked through a sunny meadow with a basket on her arm. The air was so clear and dry, she felt she could reach out and touch the towering peaks that sparkled all around in their frosted mantle of white.
Ana arrived at Teo’s open-air theater on the peaceful hillside above Vingin. Finding a clear space on one of the risers, she removed a pillow from her basket and stretched out in the sun. The warmth felt good, so she hiked up her skirt and kicked off her boots to let the sun’s rays shine on her legs and toes. They would probably be pink tomorrow, but Ana was enjoying the unexpected foretaste of summer too much to mind. Overhead, a black chough soared on the wind while the music of alpine songbirds floated to her ears from the nearby trees.
After a time, Ana removed two more items from her basket—a dried apple and the scroll Shaphan had just delivered to her home. The community had decided Stratetix would keep Shaphan’s copies of the Sacred Writing at his chalet, while the originals would be retained at the University. Master Maurice had instructed the community to read Deu’s book as often as possible, and Ana wanted to take advantage of this opportunity. Only a week ago, they had received the first chapter of Beginning, and now Shaphan had delivered chapter 2. Ana rejoiced at the prospect of spending some quiet time outdoors reading the sacred text.
I wonder if I should pray first? Ana had to admit she didn’t know how. The prayers of Chiveisian religion were rote formulas, which seemed inappropriate for a good God like Deu. Ana recalled how she had prayed before entering the magnificent temple in the Beyond, with Teo watching skeptically as she asked the God of the Ancients for wisdom. Perhaps that’s all there is to it. Perhaps I should just speak to Deu and ask him to reveal himself. Ana stood and tilted her head backward, closing her eyes and lifting her palms toward the sky. She remained like that for a long time as the sun’s warmth caressed her skin, the breeze stirred her hair against her throat, and the smooth flagstones cooled her bare feet. In her heart she reached out to Deu—and he reached back.
“Mighty Deu,” she prayed aloud, “I’m small; you are great. I don’t know you at all. My people don’t know you. Would you come to me today? Here I am, your handmaiden. Come now, you are invited. Come to me. Come to the Kingdom of Chiveis.”
Ana opened her eyes. Absolute silence surrounded her. The sky was an empty blue dome. Yet Ana knew—she believed—that Deu had heard.
Reclining on the stone bench again, Ana took a bite of her apple and began reading chapter 2 of Beginning. The account continued the creation story begun in chapter 1 but went into more detail, describing the making of the first man. As she read, Ana felt she was being granted access to ancient and weighty mysteries. She was astonished at how the Eternal One had formed the man from the soil of the earth, giving him a special garden to inhabit and cultivate. Yet the man didn’t have a “similar helper.” Ana noticed this was the first thing in Deu’s creation that was not good. All the animals were brought to the man, but none was considered suitable for him. Finally Deu took one of the man’s ribs, from which he created woman. When the man saw her, he rejoiced, for he knew she was taken from his own body and thus belonged to him. The chapter closed with a beautiful description of marital union, an intimacy so close that a man and his wife became “a single flesh.” Ana marveled that something Chiveisian society had so perverted, Deu, in his original plan, had made so lovely. He was a different sort of God than any she had ever encountered.
At the end of the scroll, Ana found that Teo had appended one of the hymns of Deu. Though she knew it had been written long ago in the forgotten culture of an unknown people, the realization dawned on her that these holy words could speak to her today. Her heartbeat quickened as she read:
Utter to the Eternal One a cry of joy, all you who inhabit the earth.
Serve the Eternal One with joy; come with exhilaration into his presence!
Know that Deu is the Eternal One.
It is he who has made us, and we belong to him.
We are his people, and the flock of his pasture.
Enter his gates with praises, and his courtyards with songs!
Celebrate him! Bless his name!
For the Eternal One is good;
his kindness always endures,
and his fidelity, from generation to generation.
Ana sat up on the stone riser and set aside the scroll. Powerful emotions resonated inside her, quivering there like a vibrant chord playing on her heartstring, a feeling too profound for words. Tears welled up, and Ana refused to stop them. At first they merely wet her eyes, but then they became abundant, until they rolled down her cheeks in streams. For the first time in her life, she realized she had never worshiped the one who most deserved it. Deu towered above the heavens—the Eternal One, whose mighty hand had raised the snowcapped summits to their heights in aeons past. Ana intentionally went into herself, crossing her arms over her chest and bowing her head. Even so, she felt conspicuous. Humbled by her puny pretenses at glory, she collapsed on the ground and knelt before the stone seat with her fingers interlocked in front of her lips. Her shoulders began to shake, and for a long time she wept in the lonely theater, squeezing out tears of contrition for her secret sins and regret for repenting so late. But soon, mingled with her sorrow, the tears of rejoicing came flowing down. How sad! she mourned. How sad to have lived twenty-four years without knowing you! But oh, Deu, how joyous, how joyous to begin a new life this very day!
It was love that finally dried Ana’s tears. The warm breath of divine passion washed over her, banishing her sadness and replacing it with grace. Her soul sang a new song out of its ineffable fullness: How great you are, my Savior God! She opened herself then, and the Eternal One came to her, all-radiant in the perfection of his power and love and purity. Ana felt her heart overflowing with a secure and confident joy. She knew Deu was real. She knew he was good. And she knew he was her God.
Valent dropped the bundle of ermine pelts onto the counter at the furrier’s shop in Lekovil.
“Nice work, Valent,” the clerk said. “You’re the best trapper on our payroll.” He handed over a pouch of coins.
“I think you may be right,” Valent answered with a grin, tying the pouch to his waist. He winked at the clerk and exited.
Across the street, a tavern beckoned, and Valent decided he could afford a good ale. He entered the dim room, furnished with walnut tables and chairs, and found a seat near the door. Raising a finger to the barmaid, he called out, “Your best!” She brought him a stein and set it on the table with a saucy flounce of her hips.
In the corner, some University students were engaged in a heated discussion, indulging themselves in cheap beer and even cheaper logic. One of them was Shaphan, the young man who had made the excellent knife hanging from Valent’s b
elt. The fur trapper chuckled to himself and approached their table.
“Shaphan, I see you make keen arguments in addition to keen knives!” The students ceased their arguing and gazed up at the red-haired stranger.
“Master Valent, how nice to see you!” Shaphan seemed genuinely pleased.
“May I join you?” Valent turned to the barmaid and signaled for her to bring a round of the good ale, then seated himself at the table.
“We were just discussing the problem of evil,” Shaphan said. “Where does it come from, and what is its nature?”
“Shaphan has the crazy idea that we’re all cursed because of it,” one of the students said.
Valent took a long draft from his stein and swallowed the ale thoughtfully. “He’s right, if you understand what evil really is.”
The students looked skeptical, but the barmaid arrived with the new round of drinks, so they waited until she left before resuming their debate.
“What do you know about such matters?” another student demanded.
“What I know isn’t available to you. You have to earn my favor.”
The student rolled his eyes. “How do I do that?”
“Some gratitude for that mug in your hand would be a good start.”
“That’s right,” Shaphan admonished. “Master Valent bought you drinks. The least you can do is hear him out!”
Valent smiled and leaned back. “Shaphan is indeed courteous. But the fact of the matter is, I can’t add anything to you men right now.”
“Why not?”
“You can only add to what is empty. He who would receive must first divest.”
The students scoffed at this remark and dismissed Valent with a wave of their hands. “Thanks for the ale,” one of them said. “You’re generous, but that’s not the same thing as being wise.” They moved to the back room, leaving Shaphan alone with Valent. An awkward silence lingered between them.
“I think you’re wise, Master Valent,” Shaphan offered.
The Sword Page 23
