CHAPTER FOURTEEN

That life must end in death is truth assured

As certain as the night shatters the morn

Birth and demise grace every living thing

But twixt these foes lies power lesser known

For no celestial force ever employed

Approximates the inscrutable Void

—THE BOOK OF UNVEILING

Zeli’s body felt like a bag of marbles. She’d been thrown, jostled, and jerked to the point where everything hurt. Bones and muscles she hadn’t known she’d had were achy and sore. Her shared straw bed at the estate had never been more welcome, and she whispered words of gratitude for everything she had awaiting her at home. When this trip was over, she’d try her best to never take her meager, but ever so shiny, accommodations for granted again.

Finally, as the sun cleared the horizon and dawn’s light deepened into morning, the Checkpoint Eleven toll gate loomed ahead, marking the end of their journey. The town was visible over a rise in the earth.

Midcountry architecture consisted mostly of flat-roofed, boxy, mud-brick buildings, virtually all the color of sand. All except for the Avinid temple with its gleaming blue-tiled, domed roof glinting in the morning light.

Eleven was the home of the sect known as the Avinids, and the temple here was the first one ever built. What little Zeli knew of the group had come from Devana. Avinids were the only organization that could be called a religion in Lagrimar. Other small cults and sects had risen up over the years only to be wiped out by the True Father, but the king apparently had no problem with those who worshipped the Void. And apparently Avinids did not consider themselves to be a religion, merely a philosophy.

The story went that one night, a young, starving woman had wandered into the bush to die and instead had a vision of a vast, infinite emptiness. Zeli had no idea what a vision of emptiness would look like, but the woman, the first ul-Waga or daughter of the Void, had experienced an epiphany. Namely, that this earthly existence was merely a staging area and that man’s real destiny lay in the space between something and nothing. Between life and death. In the Void.

She returned from the bush changed and began telling others of her insights. Early on, there were conflicts between believers and the True Father, but somehow the first ul-Waga convinced the immortal ruler that members of her budding organization were not disloyal to him. They could revere him as king while still worshipping the Void. Since this apparently made sense to the True Father, he never again bothered them.

And while Zeli reckoned there were probably still secret meetings of other sects and nascent religions, since people were far too stubborn to allow a little thing as annihilation to turn them off of doing what they wanted, the Avinids were the only ones who professed their beliefs out in the open.

The coach stopped at Checkpoint Eleven’s depot, allowing the weary travelers to disembark. Only Zeli, Devana, and Kerym were getting off here, which was surprising considering it was obvious that Eleven had swelled far past its normal population.

Dozens of Avinids in their brightly dyed tunics, adhering to no pattern or style currently in fashion, moved through the street, shopping in the open-air market or gathered in small groups. A steady stream were headed down the spiraling road leading out of town.

Zeli stretched her throbbing legs before retrieving her and Devana’s bags. As the carriage rolled away, she honestly hoped that when this day was over they would walk back home and not be forced to ride it again.

After a quick stop for hand pies in the market, the three of them joined the growing throng of people headed into the bush.

The pleasant morning air quickly burned away, leaving an oppressive heat. Devana’s bag was an anvil on her shoulder. They were headed back home this evening; why in the Father’s name had she packed so much? But even the desert temperatures didn’t sour Zeli’s love of being outside. She took a moment to enjoy the intensity of the sun on her face as she walked.

Also, the buzzing charge from the people around them was energizing. It was almost as if the anticipation of the growing crowd restored her, dissolving her aches.

They walked for about two kilometers. Miraculously, instead of complaining, Devana chattered on about how exciting this was and what she hoped the guru would say.

The location for the revival was an amphitheater made out of a crater that had somehow formed in the land. It didn’t seem entirely natural, though Zeli couldn’t fathom how such a thing could have been dug—here in the middle of the bush. The ground sloped down to a large, flat rock on which a solemn figure sat, cross-legged, wearing the brightest clothing she’d ever seen.

Avinids had access to dyes that no other Lagrimari used or would ever want to, but the vibrant shades of orange, blue, green, and yellow on the guru’s long tunic made the others pale in comparison.

From this distance, all she could see of the guru were the stripes of bushy, white hair on his cheeks—mutton chops, but no mustache—and the knit cap, pure white, which covered his head.

A crowd of mostly Avinids peppered with other, more dully dressed people, sat on blankets and cushions on the ground of the amphitheater. Devana announced that she wanted to sit near the front, and so they pushed and prodded their way through those gathered.

At the outer edges of the crater, vendors had set up their wares. The scent of sizzling meat and frying dough wafted down from portable oil stoves.

They found a good spot in what would be the fourth row, had the crowd been more organized. Zeli lay out the blanket she’d packed and they all sat, with her just behind Devana and Kerym.

All around them people streamed in and found seats. The Avinids generally maintained a solemn demeanor in opposition with their bright clothing. Others in the crowd chattered softly, curiosity flowing from them.

At the gentle strumming of a luda, a hush fell over the audience. At first, Zeli didn’t see the musician, but a group of older Avinids appeared from behind the rock on which the guru sat. One played the luda, two others raised wooden flutes to their lips, a fourth kept the beat with finger cymbals.

They played a plaintive tune that seemed to drug the crowd. Zeli felt her limbs loosen, her attention focus, and her mind clear. Then the guru Waga-nedri began to sing.

His voice was just as calming as the odd tune. Neither high nor deep, it existed in a sort of space between. She couldn’t quite categorize it. Soothing and haunting, it sent a chill up her spine even as it wrapped her in comfort like a warm hug.

The song had no words, just melodic vocalizations. And his singing made the heat of the day disappear, flowing a breeze over her skin. She nearly fell into a trance as if the wordless sounds were a lullaby.

Then the music stopped, and the crowd leaned forward as one, waiting for the guru to begin to speak.

“Children of the Void. It is well that you are here, as much as anything in this world of lies can be well. You have come to seek truth, but you have come in vain.”

A ripple of unease went through the non-Avinids in attendance.

“I have no truth to share with you, for there is no such thing. These words we speak: truth, lies, good, evil, they are merely sounds on the breath.” The acoustics of the amphitheater gave his words a slight echo.

He exhaled sharply. “Breath.” He hummed. “Sound. That is all communication is. And yet we assign meaning to sounds and breath and think ourselves secure in this supposed knowledge.”

He looked around the gathered throng. This close, Zeli could see that he was quite a bit older than she’d thought. His eyes had gone rheumy and clouded. His voice rose, punctuating each word. “There is no knowledge but the Void.”

Devana nodded in agreement as did many in the crowd.

“You want meaning? Certainty? Purpose?” He spat the words out with disgust. “You search for diamonds in the mouths of swine. They are not to be found.” Indignation colored his voice. “There is only one way—the way of the Void.”

This statement was met by vigorous applause. Zeli looked around, dumbfounded. Devana’s eyes were alight, an expression of serenity on her face. When Kerym turned to look at his fiancée, Zeli was delighted to note his expression mirrored hers—confusion.

The guru continued: “Life and death, the Living World and the World After are what most concern themselves with. But those with true understanding see the fruitlessness of worldly matters. The Void is all it needs to be, and in the Void, we truly are.” He raised his arms above his head in a V shape. The Avinids in the crowd did the same.

Soon the non-Avinids followed suit. Zeli looked around and also raised her arms, receiving a sharp but wry look from Kerym, who finally did so as well.

The musicians, standing at the edge of the stage began playing again, an almost identical song to the first one, complete with the guru’s chanting, or whatever it was.

Zeli’s arms grew tired. She amused herself by tilting them forward, seeing how close she could come to brushing Kerym’s arm with her fingertips without actually touching him. The song lasted several lifetimes, but as the last notes of the luda dissipated, everyone finally dropped their arms.

A drum had materialized in the guru’s lap and he began softly tapping on it while one of the flute players began a strange little dance. Zeli blinked, wondering what exactly she’d gotten herself into. Suddenly Devana turned around. With a plastered smile, Zeli nodded encouragingly at her mistress. Devana seemed beside herself with joy. She held up her canteen and shook it slightly, indicating that it was empty.

Zeli grabbed it and surged to her feet, eager for a task that would save her from any more muscle burning postures. It took some time to maneuver through the large crowd to the edge where the vendors were. She only hoped she could find her way back again.

She wasn’t sure if there would be a well this far in the bush, but quickly enough she found a woman with large barrels of water strapped to a mule cart and a small line of people queuing before it.

“How much?” Zeli inquired when she made it to the front.

“Twenty grams to fill your canteen,” the woman said, showing off blackened teeth. Zeli hissed, that was highway robbery, but what else could she do?

Nearby vendors were doing a brisk business selling everything from food, to garishly dyed fabric, to empty, clay jars claiming to be samples of the Void. She snorted at that. Who would spend money on such foolishness? But just then a middle-aged woman walked up and bought a small jar.

Zeli shook her head and stoppered her full canteen. A group of young men stood off to the side smoking a sweet-smelling shuroot, passing it back and forth. The flavored tobacco lent a tangy scent to the air. When she passed them by, they began whispering.

She walked along the edge of the crater, trying to recall where she’d exited and what would be the best path back. As she scanned the area, she noticed the young men following her.

One of them, a dimpled boy of about her age, smiled. Zeli froze, flustered. Boys almost never noticed her since she was usually shadowed by Devana’s beauty, or busy carrying out some errand, covered in dust or sweat. Truth be told, she was sweaty and dusty right now, but the dimpled boy eyed her with keen interest.

He was handsome, with a lean face and bright eyes. A red gem sparkled in his pierced ear. She smiled back then turned around, suddenly embarrassed. Flattered though she was, she had to get back. Devana was thirsty, and Zeli had no idea what to do beyond smiling.

She headed toward a gap in the crowd and stepped back onto the sloping ground of the crater. The guru was speaking again and everyone’s attention was rapt. She excused herself as she picked her way through. A strange sensation prickled her skin and she looked over her shoulder to find the boy following her, his three friends at his heels.

It wasn’t very often that she allowed herself to miss her lost Song, but now was one of those times. As a child she’d been especially good at sensing the emotions of those around her. Filtering through the energy that the disruption in their feelings created had been as easy as breathing. Now she was left to wonder whether this boy was so taken with her that he was following her to meet her, or was something else happening?

An icy foreboding snaked through her blood, and she quickened her pace. The drone of the guru’s voice was accompanied by the quickening of her heart.

She stepped around groups sitting on blankets and over outstretched legs. When she looked behind her, the boys were closer. The lead one’s dimpled smile was still in place, but now that he was so near, she recognized the hardness of his eyes. Fear shortened her breath.

A cluster of closely grouped Avinids stalled her forward motion. She couldn’t very well step on them, though part of her wanted to. As she stumbled, trying to find a way around them, a hand reached out to grab her ankle.

Zeli gasped as she was pulled down, landing roughly on her hands and knees. She opened her mouth to scream when a large palm covered it, muffling her sound. In an instant, the palm was replaced by a cloth gag and a hood was dropped over her head.

As her hands and feet were tied, she thrashed and fought. They were in the middle of a crowd, was no one paying attention? Heat and heavy cloth enveloped her as she was stuffed into some kind of sack. Her body left the ground, being carried somewhere. Out of the crowd and then what?

She should have known better. A normal, honest Midcountry boy would have no need of pierced ears or gem earrings. Such jewelry and flash belonged to the Sayyan payrollers; even the elite of the Lake Cities didn’t favor that type of showy display. But the criminal gangs of bush wranglers and nabbers who roamed the Great Highway were said to.

Zeli continued to kick and fight until a punch landed in her midsection, stealing her breath. Then she quieted, unsure of what to do, crying silent tears in her dark prison.