Omel’s face softened, but his eyes never changed. “That’s the way it has always been,” our uncle said finally. Satisfied that everyone was in agreement, Father relaxed and waited for Farrah to continue, but Omel had more to say. “But if we are going to adhere to the Old Ways, we must adhere to all of them. One cannot pick and choose which of the customs to follow. These things must be properly administrated or we risk again the wrath of the gods.”
Father’s deep voice bellowed, “What do you mean?” I watched the scene with wide eyes. I glanced at Pah, who was equally entranced. But like Omel, her face masked her emotions.
“Brother, my king, these are troubling times as you well know. We need a strong leader with undisputed authority. Our clan must not repeat the mistakes of the past.”
Father seemed ready to thrash Omel, but Farrah’s voice broke the tension. “Omel is correct, Semkah. The Old Ways must be followed.”
“You can’t ask me to do this.”
“I haven’t,” Farrah said, drawing herself up, her back as rigid as her voice. Even sitting amongst the men who towered above her, she was a forbidding figure. It was like magic, how she did that.
“What is happening? What do they mean?” I whispered to Pah, but she ignored me. She sat perfectly still, her hands resting on her knees, palms down. Nobody answered me, although I knew they could hear me. Father’s face said it all. Whatever custom our uncle referred to, it was not good. Would they require a life? My life? Would one of us have to die? My stomach twisted into knots. “What are these Old Ways you speak of, uncle?” I blurted out. “Tell us. We have a right to know.”
Farrah answered for him, “It is Una and Uma we speak of.”
Wracking my brain, I recalled scant portions of their story. It was never a tale I told around the fires at night, nor did anyone. This was only the second time I had heard the names spoken aloud. “What of them? Who were they?”
“Sisters they were, sisters who fought to lead the Meshwesh, and in doing so nearly destroyed the clan. Their hatred for one another was legendary—many families were left with no sons and daughters. From that day to this one, sisters have never ruled together in our clan.”
Pah’s voice sounded like cold steel. “One shall rule, one shall leave.” Her voice sounded firm, deliberate. There was no surprise there.
“Leave?”
“Surely there must be another way,” Father said.
“It must be this way. Omel is correct, Semkah.”
Father’s shoulders slumped and I whispered, “Father!” His eyes were tender as he gazed upon us. “Please,” I pleaded with him.
“If it is the will of the clan, there is nothing I can do.” His words hit my heart like well-placed arrows.
Desperation swelled inside me. Did everyone know this already? Was that what Alexio was trying to tell me? I stared into my twin’s face, her green eyes averted, her face still a taut mask. “Pah, we can rule together, can’t we? Tell them!” She did not answer me but kept her eyes focused on her hands. I saw nothing, not a tear, not a smile, nothing. Hopelessness swept over me.
Then the truth rose like the sun over the desert. She had known Omel’s intentions all along. For Pah and our uncle, it was all or nothing.
Farrah spoke again, her voice softer, more patient but unyielding. “Even if you had the purest of intentions, Nefret, even if Pah did, it would not be enough. Ambitious men would always seek to divide you, and that would further divide the clan.”
To Father she said, “Have you forgotten the bird, Semkah?”
“No, I haven’t, and I remember that it died at your hands.”
Farrah didn’t flinch. “If you want them to live, it must be this way.”
He did not answer. Wisely, his brother kept his peace while the Council agreed that these trials would follow the Old Ways.
I could do nothing to prevent it. Never had I felt so alone.
Chapter Four
The Trials—Nefret
“Now that you know what is at stake, perhaps you will take these trials more seriously. There will be three tests. You must pass all three, and the mekhma will win at least two. It is now that we ask your blood kin to leave us. No one shall influence the outcome of these trials.” Without a question, our father, uncle and cousins left us with the six members of the Council and the two acolytes. I wanted to run after Father, but he offered me no solace; he did not meet my gaze or say a word to us. Even if I withdrew from the trials, it would do me no good. I had cast incense into the fire and released my soul to reach its destiny. Whether it would be here or somewhere else, I did not know.
“The mekhma is more than merely a queen. She is the keeper of the clan’s stories—and its secret.” It was Orba who spoke to us now. He was the youngest person on the Council and also generally the quietest. Small of frame with very little hair, he rarely appeared in public. “As our leader, you must know our stories, for they are a part of us. The mekhma is the keeper of stories. For this first trial, you will tell us a story. Who will go first?”
Pah spoke before me. “I shall go first. I am the oldest.”
Farrah laughed at her. “How do you know this? I was there when you were born. Was it your head or your hand that emerged first from your mother’s womb?” Pah looked confused. She had established herself as the oldest early in our childhood. I hadn’t thought to argue with her.
Stunned into silence, Pah said nothing else. Orba spoke again, “Very well, Pah. You may go first.” For the first time in our trials, Pah glanced at me, her head down, an unsure look upon her face. That was a rare thing to see, but it did not fill me with joy as I was sure it would have if the tables were turned. Was it true? Was I the oldest?
To everyone’s surprise I said, “Please. I will go first, Orba.”
With wide eyes the man looked at Farrah, who glanced about the tent. Nobody disagreed, and he gave his consent. Pah said nothing as I stood…
My mind raced—what story should I tell? The only one I could think of was the story of Zerzura. I took a deep breath and began.
“Hear me then, wise ones. Hear the story of Ma, the brave young man who, during the Times of Storms, led the people out of the dying desert to the abandoned White City of Zerzura.
“Once, the beautiful city had been home to the fair-skinned giants, the Nephal, but these giants had angered a powerful god. For crimes forgotten by men, the Nephal were cast out of Zerzura by the Unknown God after falling to his victorious arm in a great battle. The offended god cast them into a place beyond seeing. Ages would pass before another living thing walked on the streets of that city.
“For many seasons the Meshwesh endured the vicious sandstorms, the most ferocious the desert people had ever seen. The blasting red sands killed the livestock, destroyed the fruits and trees and stole the lives of many Treasures of the Tribe. Such a heartbreaking time has never since been known by our people.
“Desperate to find a place of refuge for the Meshwesh, Ma did the unthinkable; he stood before the white walls of Zerzura and prayed to the Unknown God. He begged the deity to allow him to take the city, to claim it for his own so his people would have shelter from the blasting sands. After he prayed, Ma looked up to see a Heret falcon watching him from the gate post. It observed Ma for a few minutes and then flew to take its spot atop the tallest tower in the city. All who had been reluctant to follow Ma now changed their minds—this was a sign! Ma led the Meshwesh into Zerzura and claimed it as his own.
I licked my lips and continued with my story.
“The Meshwesh rejoiced! They found refuge from the crushing sands and the relentless heat. Never again, they vowed. Never would they pack up their tents. Zerzura, the city nestled safely in the hills of the wilderness, would always be theirs. The giants who built the city had done so with skill—Ma knew the place would stand for a thousand years. Many fountains, patches of green grass and even orchards were contained within the city walls; there was more than enough to keep everyone happy. Many grea
t houses stood empty, the beautiful artwork still perfectly painted on the walls. Scattered throughout the city and along the promenade were massive marble columns with intricate carvings. It was a rich place—even the bedchambers of the smaller homes were like lavish palaces to the Meshwesh. Ma and his warriors found an arsenal of weapons, some of which no man had ever laid eyes upon. He even found a great library, but many of the scrolls were written in a language he did not know.
“One such scroll had an unusual script that glowed in the moonlight. Ma and his wife, Sela, became obsessed with the scroll—they were convinced it would lead them to an undiscovered treasure.
“Some on the Council warned Ma and Sela against pursuing the knowledge of the scroll, but they would not heed this admonition. Ma called together the wisest members of his tribe and consulted the traders who came to visit Zerzura until he found one who could read the words. Finally they had their answer!
“‘Beware the Lightning Gate! Moonlight opens the door, but a woman holds the key.’
“These were the words of the scroll. Ma trembled with fear at the warning, but his wife was intrigued. Some say that Sela had been enchanted by the scroll itself, that the words wove a spell around her heart. From that day forward, she no longer loved her husband or her tribe. The Council decided that the scroll referred to the western gate, which was flanked by unusual stones cut in the shape of lightning bolts. Every night the door would be shut, and no woman would be able to pass through the gate until sunup for fear of whatever door would be opened.
“For many years, nothing happened. All was well in Zerzura—it had truly become home to the Meshwesh, who thrived in the White City. Traders from around the desert came to see the great place. But in Sela’s heart, all was not well. She had spent much of her time learning the language of the scroll. She found other scrolls to read until she spent every day in the library, forgetting her husband and children.
“One night, Ma’s wife had a dream. A handsome man with pale skin and silver hair appeared to her. He rode the moonlight into her chambers and told her that her beauty had drawn him to her and that her knowledge of his language impressed him. Eventually, he revealed himself as the true king of Zerzura. He told her a woeful story of his wrongful imprisonment, of an unjust god, and how he deeply longed to walk through the White City, how he ached to hold her in his arms so she could become the true queen of Zerzura.
“Night after night the Moonbeam King, as Sela came to call him, visited her in dreams. He praised her beauty and confessed his love for her, even as Ma slept beside her. One night, the man told Sela how to set him free from his prison. She had to walk through the gate when the moon was full and whisper his name.
“The man told her his name, but he also commanded her to tell no one else. Revealing his secret name would mean death for her. Ecstatically, Sela hatched a plan. One night when the city was full of foreign traders, she would shed her queenly robes and breach the gate dressed as a man. Her handmaiden and confidante, Niri-ka, begged her mistress to change her mind. She reminded her that her husband loved her, but Sela was determined. Obediently, Niri-ka helped Sela slip out of her chambers, out of the palace and down to the courtyard. She passed easily through Zerzura to the Lightning Gate and made her way to the edge of the city. Nobody stopped her. Niri-ka watched in amazement as her mistress walked calmly past the guards. She watched when the queen passed through the gate, unveiled herself and called out the name of the Moonbeam King.
“Suddenly a powerful light shone on the other side of the Lightning Gate! It was so bright that it nearly blinded all the guards who kept the gate. Sela’s garments flowed behind her as an evil wind began to blow into Zerzura. The man with the silver hair and pale skin walked toward the gate, and behind him were six giants of angry countenance. The silver man scooped up Sela as easily as he would a child and cut her throat with his sword before the guards could rescue her. She had been warned not to reveal his name, but she had not obeyed. In a panic, Niri-ka ran back to the palace to tell Ma what had happened. Ma and his warriors raced to the arsenal and charged to meet the unearthly foes. Ma fought bravely, but the giants overwhelmed the Meshwesh and killed many of the king’s warriors.
“Niri-ka watched in horror. In the melee of swords and arrows, a tiny green Bee-Eater flew down and sat upon the Lightning Gate. It turned his head and stared at her. Despite her fear, she felt compelled to follow the bird. She walked through the scuffle, seemingly unseen. Giants and Meshwesh were all around her, but all she could see was the gate and the bird; it was always watching, coaxing her along. As she walked toward the gate, Niri-ka understood what she had to do. It was a woman who had released the Nephal, and it would be a woman who put them back into their prison. Niri-ka stepped through the gate. Her unfaithful mistress had told her the Moonbeam King’s name, and now Niri-ka called to him, commanding him to leave Zerzura forever.
“The Moonbeam King and the giants dropped their weapons. They raged and cursed the Meshwesh but could not fight the invisible force that pulled them to the gate. The light once again blasted from the gate, and suddenly they were gone. Thanks to Niri-ka, the Meshwesh had been saved! Ma married Niri-ka, and the Meshwesh were happy once again.”
I paused for a moment to catch my breath before continuing.
“Until many generations later…one night the Nephal poured through the Lightning Gate, and this time there was no woman’s voice to send them back. No one knows who would have done such a thing—anyone who knew the name of the Moonbeam King was long dead. That night, giants stampeded through the city, shaking the ground as they ran, killing everyone in their path. They took back Zerzura with a white-hot rage. The Meshwesh fled the city and ran far into the desert. They watched the fires turn the White City black and listened with breaking hearts to the screams of the unlucky ones who had not escaped. The sounds of despair filled the night air. Onesu, their king, tried to comfort his people even though his young wife Ze had not escaped.
“As they wept and watched, one of the wise women rose up amongst them and prophesied that one day a mekhma, a woman of strength and power, would take back the city and exact vengeance on the evil giants and their pale leader. So has been the hope of the clan for all these years.” That was the end of the story, but passionately I added, “One day, we will take back Zerzura, banish the giants and bring the Lightning Gate down so that never again will we lose our home.”
The Council had kept their silence the entire time, but now I could see the shimmers of tears in their eyes. They were moved, touched by the story—even Pah appeared transfixed. Nobody spoke, nobody moved. Only Mina smiled, and I took my seat beside my sister. The brazier in front of us sputtered, and the flame burned white.
Pah stood and began her story. She told the Story of the Bee-Eater and how it came to be the tribe’s second symbol. I knew Pah hated storytelling. She would rather sulk than speak, but she told the story flawlessly, remembering to use her movements and facial expressions perfectly, as if she had told it a hundred times before. I listened respectfully and sat quietly even when she struggled to remember a point here or there.
When her story had ended, Pah returned to her kneeling position. The gathering did not cry as they had during my turn, but I could see they were impressed with Pah’s retelling. They said as much as they complimented us on our recitations and our passion for the tribe’s history.
“Now we must decide who won this trial. Let us pray to our ancestors to guide us.” Obediently, we bowed our heads as Farrah entreated our foremothers and forefathers to guide their decision. When her pleas were completed, she gave instructions. “Pah, Nefret. Go now and stand by the doorway, one on either side. Hold out your hands, for each of us has a coin to give. Whichever daughter leaves with the most coins has won this trial. Whether you win or lose, save those coins. If you lose the trials you will need the coins for your journey. We will break our fast now but return this evening before the sun disappears into the sand.”
We rose a
nd did as we were told. My throat felt tired, and my thirst increased by the minute, but I held out my hands obediently. The Council members walked toward us, each holding a shiny gold coin in his or her hand. First in line was Farrah, her majestic gray and white robes hanging elegantly from her tall, thin body. She paused and looked at both of us before dropping her coin in my hand. I felt Pah’s eyes upon me as all the Council members but one deposited their coins in my hands. Orba had decided against me and for Pah; I nodded politely as he left us. We were alone with only Mina and one other acolyte to attend us.
I clutched the coins in one hand. Feeling uncomfortable and hoping to make peace I said, “What if I were to give you these coins, Pah? Would it make a difference? What if I let you win? What would you say to that?”
Without warning, Pah slapped me. My skin radiated heat from the stinging strike, and my coins fell out of my hand. They made a dull sound as they fell on the thick carpet. Instinctively, I stepped back from her in case she struck me again. I had never been hit before, except on the practice field when we were children, learning the ways of the maiden warriors. Those strikes had not been deliberate, but this one was—and it struck right at my heart.
“I want nothing from you, Nefret! Nothing! Everything I have ever received has been at my own hands. I am not Father’s favorite, nor do I hold Alexio’s heart in my hand—I am not the tribe’s treasure or the children’s savior. I am Pah! I am the mekhma!” Her voice rang loudly in my ears. “I will earn my right to be called such. You cannot give that to me. It is not within your power! Queen’s blood is in my veins too. Would you like to see it?”
Pah showed me her wrist and drew a small circular blade from her waist. My eyes widened, and I shook my head quickly.
The Tale of Nefret Page 5
