ARVIL

 

Narid did not frighten me with his talk about how few men returned from the east. Birana and I could not return, whatever happened. But I was worried about his story of what had befallen his band. Ilf had said that the men of the lake would not harm strangers, but Narid knew more about them than Ilf had, and he feared them. I told myself that Narid’s band had not gone to the lake in peace, that they had brought their deaths upon themselves. I thought of the vision and what it might mean, of Birana’s hope for a refuge.

“What shall we do?” Birana asked as we left the shrine.

“You must say what we are to do. Will you risk traveling to this lake? Perhaps one of your kind appeared there, and perhaps those men know where you might find safety, or it may be only a tale with little truth.”

“I know one thing,” she said, as she carried her belongings to Flame. “Any refuge I can reach would lie somewhere to the east. We’ll have to go on.”

I touched her arm lightly. I had not come so close to her for the past days. I kept my hand on her. She did not pull away, and then I remembered what she had said, that my desire for her would bring her suffering and death. My hand dropped. “I haven’t heard how you reached a truce with Narid, though he said you spoke bravely.”

I tried not to smile when she spoke of how she had stood up to his threats, of how she had dared him to kill her outside the shrine. “He was all bluff and arrogance,” she finished.

I grew solemn then. “He was not, Birana. He could have followed his threats with deeds, while you couldn’t. It may be all that saved you from him was his weariness and not your brave words. Brave as you were, you risked too much.”

“Even if he had killed me, you would have been safe. He would have seen what I was, and then he would have been no match for you. He would have thought himself cursed; he might have welcomed his death then.”

I stepped closer to her. “You think so much of me, to save me in that way?”

“I couldn’t… without your help, I wouldn’t have lived long anyway.” She looked away before she mounted Flame, and I knew that she had left other words unsaid. My heart leaped.

 

 

We came that evening to rolling land where high grass grew and where the trees to the east stood with much grassland around them. Birana fetched kindling from the edge of the wood while I found stones to set around the fire. What Narid had revealed of this land in his rambling way had told me that we did not need to fear men, and the fire would keep other creatures away.

The air was cold again, and we put on our sheepskin coats. With wood and my old coat, I set up a shelter above us, then stretched out on the ground. Birana crawled out and began to lie down a few paces away.

“I didn’t make this shelter only for myself,” I said.

“I can sleep here.”

“The night grows colder. We would be warmer if we lay together.”

She sat up. “No.”

“Do you think I forgot what you have told me? I want only warmth, no more.”

She came back and lay down next to me. I moved toward her until my chest was against her back. She tensed, but did not push me away. I put one arm across her, around her waist, over her coat.

She did not protest but accepted this. My soul sang with that triumph, and then it came to me that there might be caresses we could share while I kept my seed from entering her. My member hardened as I thought of the touch of the spirit-women, of how their hands had stroked me, of how mine had roamed over their bodies. It was my joining with her that would bring her harm, not my touch.

It was hard for me to put such thoughts from my mind. It might be even harder for me to resist joining with her if I shared more with her. I steadied myself, and at last my weariness brought me sleep.

 

 

As we rode, I pointed out plants to Birana and told her which ones could be eaten. I discovered that pokeweeds and dandelions were plants Birana had once scorned.

“When we find such things in the city,” she said, “and we still do sometimes, those who garden pull them out and throw them away.” I was struck by that, the notion of her kind throwing away plants that could feed them. Their magic seemed to grow greater, the more I knew of them, while they themselves grew less fearsome. Only their magic gave them strength—that, and the power they held over life.

Birana’s eyes grew sadder as she spoke of the enclave. Whatever I had awakened toward me in her soul, she would have forgotten if she could have returned to her home. She sought a refuge. I wondered if there would be a refuge for me without her. Perhaps if she found one, I would not be welcome in it.

We could have remained in the land where we rode. I could reach an understanding with Narid’s band, one that would allow us to dwell apart from them so that they did not discover Birana’s true nature. I could convince him that my band, who lived only in my false words, would not follow us east, and he would be pleased that we had turned from seeking that which was unholy. With our horses, we could aid his band and the other they sometimes joined, and I could teach Birana how to hunt and track. This land was nearly empty of men. We would be as safe here as anywhere. This might be as much of a refuge as we would find.

I dreamed of this but did not speak of it to Birana. I feared that, if she believed there were no other refuge but this, she might lose the will to live. We would have to go to the lake, whatever that quest brought us.

I counted the days as we rode, and by the seventh, we had still seen no sign of the lake. But we had come to a land of more trees and, as Narid had told us, giant oaks stood among the towering pines. The days had grown colder, as they will in the spring before the warmth of summer drives the spell of the north away, and from time to time, the clouds released their rain.

A wind would blow, and the trees would release their seeds, undulating as the wind stirred their limbs. Their seeds dropped around us, to lie on the ground and take root. Since hearing of the truth from Birana, I saw these trees with new eyes. A story Narid had told came to me.

The first tree, at the beginning of Earth, had sprouted and grown tall. At the sight of the land under his roots, the tree grew hard with desire. The spirit of Earth and the Lady caressed him, and Her land welcomed his roots and made him long for Her so greatly that bark grew around him and kept him stiff. A passion filled the tree, and his first seeds fell, to be borne away by the wind, but as boys are given to men by the Lady, so other trees rose around the first and became his band.

Earth accepted the seed of the trees, as the females of other creatures accepted the seed of their males. But men, by doing evil, had cast their seed carelessly and had lost it in ancient times. No new life came from us, for that was part of our punishment, but in a forest far away, Narid said, the first tree waits, still spilling its seed, and when men have moved closer to redemption, the seeds of the first tree will fall upon them and restore their own seed.

Narid had seen nothing more in this story than that trees, like the creatures around us, were yet another sign of what we had lost. But now, as the oaks stirred above Birana and me, I saw them as a sign of what I still was. Men had their seed still, and Birana’s kind took it from us. The limbs fluttering overhead brought images of men dancing before other men whom they loved, of ghostly aspects beckoning to a man. Women had not robbed us of our seed but had hidden theirs from us.

All these thoughts only aroused me more, and I would have nothing from Birana but the warmth of her body while I slept. I kept my eyes on the ground, away from the limbs above.

 

 

At last we began to see the signs of men.

By a stream running through the wood, I saw that men had dug for roots and gathered plants there. Birana peered at her compass, and we rode on. Soon we were on a trail winding among the trees, a place where men had walked. We did not ride along the trail but kept it in sight as we continued east, concealing ourselves among the trees.

As we rode, I seemed to feel eyes upon me; yet, when I looked around, I saw no one. I was sure we were being watched but heard no sound except the birds.

“I come in peace,” I called out in the holy speech. Birana looked at me, startled, for she, it seemed, had sensed nothing. “We mean no harm. I swear it to you in the Lady’s name.” We moved back to the trail and rode along it. If men were watching, it would be useless to hide from them now.

Then we came to a place along the trail where stumps of trees stood among others that still lived, and where bark had been stripped from other trees. I sniffed the air and knew we were near water.

“I come in peace,” I cried again.

An arrow flew past and struck a tree in front of us. Flame reared as Birana clung to her reins.

“Hold!” a voice shouted in the holy speech before I could act. This man was hidden by the trees but seemed to be above us.

“You two are alone?” another voice called out from behind me.

“We are alone,” I answered, “and we come in peace. I swear it to you.”

“If that is so,” the first voice said, “then cast down all the weapons you carry and drop to the ground from the beasts that carry you. If you do not, you will die here.” The holy speech sounded strange in this man’s mouth. I recalled what Birana had told me, that the holy speech was different in other places. This man drew out his words and then bit them off at the end.

We had to obey. Birana and I threw down our spears and the knives we carried, then dismounted. I tensed as I waited for the other arrows to fly. A small pouch dropped past my face. I picked it up, opened it, and saw a small piece of dried fish. They would not be offering us food if they intended to kill us.

“Lead your beasts on along this trail,” the first voice said. “Remember that you will feel the wrath of all our band if you harbor evil intentions toward us.”

We led the horses forward. As we walked, I heard the men drop to the ground behind us but dared not turn. Ahead of us, more trees had been stripped of bark and more stumps stood on the land. I had never seen land so marked by men, and wondered how many could be in this band. I was feeling our helplessness. The men had made the gesture of offering us food but had not promised a truce.

Soon we came to a place where many trees had been felled, and I saw a long, low wall of dirt and stone. Beyond lay the lake, so wide it seemed to cover all of the horizon; I could see no shore to the east, where the lake met the sky. Ten men stood on the wall. Four held spears while the others, all with the beardless faces of boys, carried bows. Two of them stood on either side of a passage that led through the wall.

I turned. Two other men were behind us, carrying the weapons we had dropped. They were dark haired, without the beards of men, and nearly as tall as I. One of them pointed at the passage. “Enter our camp,” he ordered.

We led our horses through the wall, and I nearly gasped aloud when I saw what lay inside. The land had been cleared, and men were toiling among straight rows of plants, green shoots just beginning to sprout. A path led past these plants to dwellings, round structures built of the trunks of trees that stood upright on the ground. I looked at the men on the wall, at those working, at those who stood near the dwellings, and knew that this band was as large as Truthspeaker’s had been before the Lady destroyed it.

The two men carrying our weapons moved ahead of us, leading us to a wide clearing around which the dwellings stood. No fire burned at the center of the camp, but from openings in the roofs of the dwellings smoke was rising. One dwelling, smaller than the others, stood apart from them and nearer to the wall. I wondered who lived there, then looked toward the lake, where other men rode the water in two floating vessels made of wood and bark. Other vessels lay on the shore below.

This was the richest camp I had ever seen. The sight of the men and their strong bodies told me that they did not feel hunger even after the deprivations of the recent winter. This, I thought, might be why so few returned from the east; a man would not want to leave such wealth. But perhaps other travelers had also died here. These men might not want to share what they had.

We were led past the clearing to a place by the shore, below the dwellings. “You may rest here,” one of the men said. I now saw that even though he wore no beard, he was older than he had first seemed. “Make your camp here. You may take water from the lake and tie your beasts to the trees there. I’ll send my charge to tend to you.”

“We thank you for your kindness,” I said.

He held up my metal knife, studying the blade, then tossed it in front of us with our other weapons. “We leave you these. I don’t think you will be so foolish as to use them against anyone here.”

He and his companion left us and walked back up the gentle slope toward the dwellings. As I glanced around, I noticed that the wall surrounded this camp, stretching nearly to the shore at either end. We could not escape without being seen by the men there.

We watered the horses, then tethered them by the trees. By the time I had set up a shelter of sticks and draped Tal’s old coat and my own over them, a boy was making his way toward us, carrying a sack. He set the burden down, then bowed a little from the waist.

“Greetings,” he said. “I am called Tulan.” He squinted at me with his black eyes as he pulled out a basket woven of reeds from the sack. “Do you carry meat in your packs?”

I nodded.

“Then I shall leave you only these foods.” He took the top from the basket, then glanced at the horses. “I have heard of horses. Perhaps they will eat of this.” He pulled out a large clay pot and offered it to me. I lifted off its top and saw a watery mixture of grain.

“We thank you,” I said.

“It is nothing.”

Nothing, to give away food to strangers and to feed our horses as well? His generosity was making me uneasy. The boy sat down and, after a moment, we seated ourselves in front of him.

“You are very kind to strangers, Tulan,” I said.

“Those who are mighty and blessed can be kind.” He grinned, and there was assurance in his smile. “What are you called?”

“I am Arvil. The one with me is called Spellweaver, for he knows something of the powers of the mind. I would ask you a few questions.”

“That is why I am here, to answer them.”

“I would have you speak more slowly,” I said, “for even the holy speech sounds strange to me in your mouth. How many men and boys are in your band?”

Tulan put out his hands once, then twice, then yet again until he had thrust his fingers at me eleven times. “It is a great band,” I murmured.

“It is, and we have a truce with other lake bands with as many men.”

“You have much, but I see that you can guard it against others who would seek it.”

“That is so,” he responded, “and each of the lake bands is bound to protect the others and to fight with them if one band is attacked.”

So this part of Ilf’s story was true. I longed to ask the boy about the holy vision and what it might mean, but held myself back.

“I am to tell you,” Tulan continued, “to stay here until it’s time for others to speak with you. If you must relieve yourselves, go to that place.” He pointed at a ditch shielded by several shrubs. “I’ll bring you food. Others will not speak with you until we have learned more about you.” He leaned forward. “Had you come on foot, we might have welcomed you more readily, but we have heard tales of those who have tamed the horse.”

“Some of those tales are not truthful.”

“Do others follow you?”

“No one will follow,” I admitted.

He seemed relieved to hear that. “I’ll tell you some of our lore.” I supposed that he was happy to have new ears for his talk.

He went on to tell us a story of long ago, when members of this band had first come to the lake. The Lady, in the form of a doe, had led them there, and because they had been a band that had not hunted does with young, but only bucks and other deer that had grown old, they had been rewarded with the bounty of the lake. In the form of a bear, the Lady had shown them the abundance of fish that lived in the waters and had taught them to make nets and boats. As a goose, She had led them to flocks of birds that came to the lake during their migrations. As a wren, She had shown them the plants that grew on the land, and a holy vision had revealed that certain plants could be cultivated and not simply gathered.

Other visions had shown them new arts, and they had prospered. They had also learned that truces with other bands around the lake would strengthen rather than weaken them. Although they lived very far from the Lady’s enclave and had to travel for days even to reach a shrine, they honored the Lady in all that they did. They often journeyed to a distant shrine in groups, and men of their number were called often enough to bring new boys to the band, while others had joined them after traveling to the lake from other regions. This last statement eased my mind a little.

I looked past him, seeing that a few men had entered the clearing; they carried a large deer hanging from a pole over their shoulders. Tulan turned his head toward them. “The hunters are back,” he said.

“Are you not all hunters?” I asked.

He shook his head. “When we are boys, the men see who is best at hunting or tending plants or fishing or toolmaking.” He struck his chest. “I am one who will hunt. Those who are weaker must tend plants. Those whose hands are skillful craft tools, but it is from the hunters that our Headman is chosen.”

“You are all one band,” I said. “Can one be more or less than another in a band?”

Tulan lifted his head. “Do you not have a Headman, and isn’t he higher than all?”

“Even a Headman must listen to his men and heed their words before he acts.”

The boy smiled. “Our Headman heeds his own voice and listens only to those around him who have proven their strength, and others must follow. He does not hunt or fish or tend plants or make tools or baskets or pots unless he wishes to do so, for it is his task to watch others and to guide us all. When he grows older, he must choose another Headman.”

I thought of Geab. “What if he doesn’t want to give it up?”

Tulan gaped at me. “But he must. He knows when it is time. When our Prayergiver dies, the Headman must become the Prayergiver and choose a new Headman. He then lives in the small hut apart from our other dwellings, and there he prays to the Lady throughout the days until his soul leaves us. He leaves our camp no more, and we honor his holiness, for his prayers protect us.”

I considered all he had told me. The men on the plateau had trained some of their number to fight with spears, others with bows, but all had labored together at other tasks, according to Bint. The customs of this lake band were much stranger and seemed contrary to all I knew of what a man’s life should be. Wanderer had heard of places where men tilled the soil, yet even he had not come upon so strange a band.

The men in the clearing were butchering the deer. Another man left one of the dwellings, and my mouth dropped open as I watched him gesture to the others. He was the largest man I had ever seen. His belly was swollen under his leather garments while his arms seemed thicker than my thighs. I waved an arm at him. “Is that giant your Headman?” I asked.

Tulan turned. “He is. You see our greatness in how well we have kept him fed.” He stood up. “You’ll hear more in time, and we will learn of you when the time for truthsaying comes.” He picked up his sack and left us.

I looked inside the basket he had given us and found pokeweed, ripe strawberries, and asparagus. We ate this with the dried fish and then fed our horses, who ate readily of the grain. After we had drunk and filled our waterskins at the lake, we sat down under the shelter. From the camp, I could hear the voices of the men speaking in their own tongue as they entered their dwellings.

I stripped the red skin from the pokeweed that remained, chewed on the leaves, then divided the berries we had left. Birana shook her head as I offered one to her. “I’m full.”

“I cannot eat them all.”

She accepted a few. I looked down at her belly, hidden by her coat. “You grow rounder with more food, Birana. Your chest grows fuller and your hips more curved.”

She narrowed her eyes and drew back a little. “I know,” she whispered, although there was no one near enough to hear us. “If we stay here, they’ll see what I am.”

I rested my head against my knees. “We cannot escape.”

“We should never have come here.”

I felt the burden of her then. “We are here because you seek a refuge, because you thought others of your kind might have found this land. I see none of them here, but this place can be a refuge for you. If you show these men your true nature, they would honor you and serve you, and your life would be an easy one, as would mine.”

“I would be betrayed the next time one of them went to a shrine. I can’t teach them all…”

“You told my old band that they didn’t have to travel to shrines while you were among them. Can’t you tell these men the same?” I was warm with anger at her. Here was a camp where she could be safe, where I might find new friends, yet she still dreamed of a refuge that might not be. I wanted to break her hold on me then, to tell her I would travel no more.

“The boy said nothing of seeing one of us,” she said.

“Perhaps his band does not speak of such things in front of strangers.” I could still hope.

I stretched out under the shelter. Birana lay at my side, her arm by mine, seeking nearness to me instead of only enduring it. I clasped her hand tightly and felt her hair against my lips.

 

 

We stayed by the lake, and Tulan brought us another small basket of food. Although men passed by us on the way to their boats, they did not answer any of my greetings. We tended the horses but did not ride, and my idleness soon grew wearisome.

On the next day, when Tulan came, I motioned to him to sit, then went to the horses and fetched what remained of our meat. I carried it to the boy and put it into his sack, keeping only enough to eat later. “You have given to me and to Spellweaver,” I said as I sat down. “So I shall give to you. This is most of the meat we have, and you are welcome to it. Share it with others. I am sorry there is no more.”

Tulan grinned. “I told them you were a good man,” he burst out. “My band will be happy you did this now.” I saw then that I had passed some sort of testing.

“I must ask you to do something for us, Tulan. I want to speak to one of your men, your Headman or another who is respected among you.”

He rose. “I will fetch Jerlan, my guardian. He’s one of our best hunters and a man to whom even the Headman sometimes listens.”

He scurried off as Birana shot me a glance. “What are you going to do now?”

“You will see,” I answered.

Tulan returned quickly with a tall, black-haired man, the one who had guided us to the camp and given us back our weapons. We greeted each other, and then I said, “It is not right for us to take from you while giving nothing. I must take up the tasks of a man if I am to stay with you.”

“And do you wish to stay?”

“If your band will allow it. Our band is dead. We have no band. We traveled far to reach this place.”

Jerlan’s dark eyes seemed kind, but I saw that he was also a man who would not listen to foolish or false words. I told him a little of our travels and how far we had come, and he grew more attentive to my words as I talked. I said that I had heard that the men of the lake lived in holiness and treated strangers kindly.

He nodded at this. “We are kind to those who, when the time for truthsaying comes, show that they are worthy men. To others we are not so kind.” He was silent for a moment while I wondered what he meant by the time for truthsaying. “What do you offer us besides the meat you have already given?”

I glanced at Birana. “Spellweaver is not strong,” I said carefully, “but my band kept him for his skill with horses and because he has a brave heart. He can teach some of you how to ride if you don’t fear our beasts too much, and perhaps he can learn the art of plant tending from you.” She looked away as I spoke. “I can hunt and gather wild plants. I can make tools and weapons.” I spread the ones I had before him.

“You didn’t make this one,” he said as he picked up my knife. “This is not a blade of stone.”

“I did not make it. The man who owned it is dead. I can also fight and can tell you stories of the land to the west.”

His lip curled at that. “We know something of the west.”

“Do you know of the land beyond the Ridge, that wall of rock? Do you know of the plain beyond that? Do you know of the plateau where some men fell so far into evil ways that they would prey upon strangers inside shrines, on holy ground?”

Jerlan stared steadily at me. “Of such things we have not heard.”

“You will hear of them in time, and of more as well.” I let a silence pass to feed his curiosity, then said, “We can also find a way of making our horses useful to you. As you can see, they’re able to bear burdens too heavy for a man. I am told you live far from shrines and the Lady’s enclaves, but, with these horses, you can reach them more easily.”

“Traveling as we do tests our strength. Horses are only something else to feed, and they are wild and impart their wildness to men.”

“These horses are not wild.”

He shrugged. “There may be something in what you say, Arvil. We can talk of the horses later when the time for truthsaying is past.” He drew his brows together. “We’ll see how you hunt. As for the boy there, he may spend the days showing my charge Tulan what he knows of these horses. We’ll see what sort of men you are.’’

 

 

I was to hunt with Jerlan and five other men the next day. The air had grown warm again, and Birana had put off her sheepskin coat to wear the one I had made for her.

“Your form is hidden well enough,” I said.

She held out one hand. “Arvil, I’m afraid to stay here alone.”

“Tulan won’t harm you. Do as his guardian asked, and show him how to care for our horses and what their habits are. Say little to him—let him believe you are one of few words.”

I followed Jerlan and the others from the camp, but when we were outside the wall, they allowed me to lead. They told me nothing about the land or where game might be found, for it was my skill they wanted to see. Deer would avoid the ravaged land around the camp, and it came to me that, with so many men there, we might have to venture far to find game.

As we moved through the wood, I marked my position by the position of the sun overhead and also noted signs on the land—the faint marks of a trail, a glade to the south, the clumps of berry bushes near a thorny shrub. We had gone deep into the forest before I saw a place where deer had passed and where they had found forage among the plants. Still my companions said nothing as I followed these tracks.

We came to a pool fed by a creek, and there I waited, certain that deer would soon come to drink. The men were silent as they watched. When a buck at last appeared, I raised my bow and took aim, but only wounded the creature. My companions made no move to help me, and I marveled at the wealth of those who could give up this chance at more food only to test me.

I leaped up and ran after the bleeding deer, tracking it until I was close enough to hurl my spear. This weapon brought the buck down, and I was able to take its life. Jerlan and his men followed and sat down to watch as I cleared a place for a fire.

When the fire was ablaze, I began the work of butchering. It was night by the time my labor was done and a haunch was roasting over the fire. I sat down and waited for someone to speak to me.

“You might make a hunter,” Jerlan said. “You will share our meal now. We’ll sleep here and return to our camp in the morning.”

The roasted meat restored some of my strength. I was with a band once more and felt how much I had missed the company of other men. “It is not only hunting we want from you, but tales of your land,” Jerlan went on. “Tell us a story of it now, while we eat. Tell us your tale of the evil ones who would violate a shrine.”

The other men muttered at this. “Such men could not live,” one whispered as he made a sign against evil.

“Arvil told me that he knew of such men.”

“It is so,” I said. As I prepared to begin my story, I remembered what Shadow had told me about men preferring tales with some invention. In my words, the plateau became a place where an evil spirit dwelled and caused men to turn from the Lady, and I spoke of how the men there had seen that those who entered a shrine and expected peace within its walls could be easily robbed and slain. The Lady could not suffer such evil and sent Her weapons against these men, but the evil spirit among them was strong enough to protect a few from Her wrath. I spoke of two lone strangers who had come to a shrine, how the evil men had attacked them, and how the Lady, enraged by this desecration, had given Her strength to the travelers.

“The spears of the travelers became Her rays,” I said, “and the evil ones fell before them, and then their bodies vanished, as if they had never walked the earth. I swear by the Lady that my words are true.”

“That is quite a story,” Jerlan said, “yet I wonder if it was only a boastful fool who told it to you.”

I gazed into his face. “No one told it to me, for I was one of those two travelers, and it was to me that the Lady imparted Her strength. I saw Her weapons destroy those men on their plateau and was spared because I followed Her way and not theirs.”

“Arvil makes his deeds greater than they are,” one man said.

“I have sworn it is true,” I replied.

“Deeds can grow in the telling,” Jerlan said, “and men become mightier in the past when they view it from the present, but we’ll know the truth of this tale when the time for Arvil’s truthsaying comes.”

I wanted to ask him what he meant by that but held my tongue. Perhaps they would take me to a shrine, since men had to speak truth there, but I knew the truth of the Lady and could say what I wished. “I have told a story,” I said, “and now I would ask one of you. I have heard that there is holiness here and that a vision of the Lady appeared to a lake band not long ago.”

One of Jerlan’s companions leaned toward him. “I don’t know if we should speak of that to him now. It would be better if he passed through his truthsaying first.”

Jerlan waved a hand. I had already seen that the other men deferred to him and waited to hear what he would say. “He has hunted with us. I believe he may become one of us before long, and, if he doesn’t, telling him the tale will make no difference.” He drank from his waterskin and then began his story.

Some years before, not long after the band’s present Prayergiver had assumed those duties, a lake band to the east had begun to bar its camp to all others, even to those by the lake with whom that band had a truce. Although they would leave their closed camp to travel to others along the lake, they would allow no man to enter theirs.

The other lake bands, Jerlan’s among them, grew suspicious of this and wondered if this band might be harboring evil intentions. Always the men of the lake had welcomed those from other such camps to their own, and even traded among themselves, if one camp’s gardens flourished while another’s did not. The other lake bands whispered among themselves as they worried about what evil might be taking root, and the mystery grew. Whenever a man from the closed camp was seen, he would say only that there was holiness that had to be hidden from the eyes of other men, but that the vision had promised blessedness to all the men of the lake.

Anger and doubt grew in the hearts of the other bands, and yet they feared to act; they had sworn a truce to the other band for all time and could not attack their camp. They also knew that, if the vision was a true one, they would be cursed for attacking men who had been blessed.

At last the Headmen of all the bands decided to travel to that camp, and there they were met by its Headman and Prayergiver outside the camp’s wall. The Prayergiver swore mighty oaths and then told the others to bring their own Prayergivers back to that place. The Prayergivers would be allowed to see the truth of the vision and would attest to it, but the Lady willed that no others should behold this apparition.

All the Headmen swore more oaths and then returned to fetch their Prayergivers. This promise had not been an easy one to keep, for a Prayergiver was one who never left his camp to travel, and many of these old men were weak. Some were borne to the eastern camp on litters and others could walk only a short distance at one time; but at last they came to the camp, and there all those with them waited while the Prayergivers entered.

A day passed, and then the Prayergivers came outside, and all who saw them knew before they spoke that they had seen holiness, for a new light shone from the eyes of the old men. They swore that they had seen a holy vision, and all believed them, but the Prayergivers never again spoke of what they had seen.

“The Prayergivers swore not to speak of their vision,” Jerlan said, “and that camp is still closed to all who will not join their band, but some word of the vision they saw has found its way to our ears. Some say that an aspect of the Lady appeared to them, while others say only that She speaks through the mouth of their Prayergiver and lends him Her form, but all know that the camp is blessed and has given its blessing to all of us. The proof of that is that we have all prospered and that life here is good.”

Jerlan’s friends were looking about uneasily. His shoulders twitched as fear crept into his eyes. “It is not wise to dwell on this holy mystery overmuch,” he continued. “It is something to hold deep in the mind. We do not speak of it often, for it is best to veil such a vision, lest its power burn our souls.”

I said, “I would go to that camp and see this for myself.”

“You cannot,” Jerlan replied. “Only a Prayergiver or one of the boys who has won the right to join their band would be allowed to enter.”

“Boys join them?” I asked.

“From time to time a man from that camp comes to ours or to another, and the boys compete in contests before him. The boy who wins then goes to that camp to dwell there and is happy to live near holiness.”

“But…” I started to say.

“We have spoken enough of this,” one man said angrily.

“Is this another tale that has grown in the telling?” I said.

“Silence,” Jerlan muttered. “I told you that we don’t often speak of this. Even in a holy shrine, we will bury our thoughts of this vision. The Lady has blessed us, but She may also turn from us if we grow too proud. This tale is as I told it to you, for I was a boy when the Prayergivers journeyed to that camp, and the Prayergiver who dwells with us now was one who saw the holy vision.”

I considered this. “And will he travel there again?”

“He will not, for the men in that camp guard their vision.”

“I must speak to your Prayergiver.”

Jerlan shook his head. “You must not unless he summons you. A man doesn’t enter his hut unless he is called there, lest his prayers be disturbed.”

We stretched out to sleep while one of the men kept watch. My thoughts tumbled inside me, keeping sleep at bay. I would have to learn more, but the beginning of a plan was already forming in my mind.

 

 

We returned to the camp the next day with our game. The Headman was standing among the plants, watching as those tending them poked at the ground with antlers and sticks. He beckoned to Jerlan, then led him to one of the dwellings.

I hastened to Birana, who was standing with the horses while they drank from the lake. Tulan held the reins of Wild Spirit, and I saw that the horse seemed gentler with him. He grinned at me. “Spellweaver must teach me to ride this creature,” he said.

“We’ll see. Your guardian is with the Headman. You should go to him now.” As the boy hurried away, I murmured to Birana, “I have much to tell you.”

We tethered the horses and sat down under our shelter while I told her Jerlan’s tale. Her face was ashen when I finished.

“It might be,” she whispered. “If women were among them, or that band has seen them, they would still have to hide from others. And you say that the Prayergivers never leave their camps, so they wouldn’t be able to betray what they know in a shrine.” She clutched at my sleeve. “We must go there.”

“We cannot simply ride out of here and seek them out.” I frowned. “Jerlan keeps speaking of a truthsaying. Has the boy told you anything of that?”

She shook her head.

“We must speak to the Prayergiver somehow, and yet we cannot unless he summons us. I fear these men will strike at us if we approach that man.”

Jerlan was walking toward us. I stood up as he came near. “Our Headman Irlan has spoken to me,” he said. “He has said it is time for you and Spellweaver to have a truthsaying. Tomorrow, our band will prepare a feast, and you will both be led to the Prayergiver’s house. There, outside his hut, we will learn what lies inside you.”

This did not sound too fearful. “Must I swear a holy oath,” I said, “so that you will know the truth of my words?”

“You may swear one, but it isn’t an oath that will draw the truth from you both. You will drink a potion we’ll prepare, and that which shapes your words and thoughts will be stripped from you, and you will speak freely of all that is in you. Should evil abide in your thoughts, you must die; but, if it does not, you may remain with our band.”

I was afraid to speak.

“Are you not pleased?” he said. “We do not force a man to stay, but it is my hope that you’ll join us.”

“I am pleased,” I managed to say. As he left us, I took Birana’s hand and felt the iciness of her fingers.

 

 

The camp was silent as the men slept. I moved closer to Birana and felt the trembling of her body as she lay next to me. My fear had driven away any longing for her.

“Can you teach me to hold my mind still when I swallow that potion?” I whispered. “Can you control your own thoughts?”

“I don’t know. We don’t know what we’ll be drinking, or what it does.”

Everything in me, all of the thoughts they would see as unholy and blasphemous, might escape from me. All the truth Birana had told me might be revealed to them. They would know what Birana was, and if they learned that the Lady had ordered her death and that I had disobeyed this command, they might slay us both.

On the wall of dirt and stone, a few men were guarding the camp. I could not go to the Prayergiver’s hut without being seen.

I put my lips to Birana’s ear. “Listen to me,” I said softly as I began to tell her what we would have to do.

 

 

The dawn promised fine weather for the ceremonies the men had planned. Some set out to gather wood and to relieve those who had watched during the night. The plant tenders carried baskets to their gardens and began to gather food.

I crawled out of the shelter and stood up as Birana got to her feet. “Are you prepared?”

She nodded.

“Do not look at the men as we pass and keep your hands at your sides.” I had taken my knives from my belt. She dropped her knife next to mine.

We walked up into the clearing. A few men were standing in the doorways of their dwellings, and I could feel their eyes on us. We crossed the clearing. The Prayergiver’s hut was ahead; a reed mat hung in its entrance. I knew the man was inside, for I had not seen him leave his hut, had not seen him at all during our time in the camp. We continued toward the small dwelling until we were only a few paces from the entrance.

“Stop there!” a man shouted from the wall in the holy speech. His spear was raised, while a man near him was already aiming an arrow at Birana. I was as close as I dared to go.

We sat down. “I would speak to the Prayergiver,” I called out, hoping he would hear me.

Two of the men who had hunted with me strode toward us. “He has not asked to speak to you. Get away from here before you’re punished for your boldness.”

I held out my hands. “We carry no weapons.” I opened my coat to show that I had no knife. “We mean no harm, but there are matters I would speak of to your Prayergiver.”

Jerlan left his dwelling and hastened toward us, Tulan at his heels. He halted in front of me and shook his fist. “I led you here,” he said. “I hunted with you, I told the Headman you were worthy. You abuse my trust. Our Prayergiver is not to be disturbed in his holy tasks.”

“I would speak to him of holiness,” I replied, making my words clear and sharp. Jerlan was about to strike me when Tulan grabbed at his arm, holding him back. “There is a holy truth I must reveal to him and to no one else.” Jerlan stepped back. “So that you will know I speak truly, Spellweaver will show you the magic he carries.”

I gestured at Birana. She pulled out the chain around her neck, drew it over her head, and held out her compass. Jerlan leaned over to peer at it. “Do you see the device upon it? A powerful spell holds that tiny spear, which always points to the north. With this magic, a man can always know where he is traveling, even in unknown lands where the sun may be hidden by trees or the stars by clouds. It is this magic that helped to guide us here, and it is a gift of the Lady, for Spellweaver brought it out of an enclave.”

Jerlan thrust up one hand while the other men made signs. Tulan’s dark eyes widened. “There are many spells,” Jerlan said, “and not all are good.” He gazed at the compass, as Birana turned it in her hand, then backed away.

“Let your Prayergiver decide our fate,” I said, nearly shouting the words. “I think he will want to know of this spell.”

“I do not hear him call,” one of the hunters said. “He won’t summon you.”

I stared at the reed mat. Perhaps the Prayergiver was so deep in prayer he had not heard our talk. He might be sleeping still. I did not know the customs of this band well; I had risked too much.

“I believed you were a good man,” Jerlan said solemnly. “Yet after you hunted, you told me of such unholiness that I could hardly believe such things could be, and now you show us this unholy magic. It is our duty to shield our Prayergiver from evil intentions. I am sorry for this, but I know what I must do.”

He dragged me to my feet swiftly. Another man seized Birana by the hair as he drew out his knife.

“Hold!” a voice shouted.

A hand lifted the reed mat. A gray-haired man stepped outside. Jerlan let go as this man motioned to me.

“I shall call these two travelers to speak to me,” the Prayergiver said. “I’ll decide if they are holy or unholy. The Lady will protect me from any unholiness, and I am not so feeble that others must protect me as well. Let them enter, then leave this place so that we may talk freely.”

Birana hung her chain around her neck. We entered the Prayergiver’s hut.

 

 

The man let the mat fall. Now that I was closer to him, I saw that, despite his gray hair, he was younger than I had expected. “You may sit,” he said. “The others are gone. Don’t think you can strike at me, or you will die when you leave this house.”

I showed him my empty hands, keeping them before me as I sat down. Light shone through an opening between the roof and the upper part of the wall. From a hole in the center of the roof, a wide beam of sunlight fell on ashes surrounded by rocks. On the ground, set against the wall of upright trunks, lay a mat and two hides, but another object had caught my eye. A small figure of wood, crudely carved, stood next to the mat. The head of this image had no features and its arms were only stumps, but two mounds had been carved on its chest while the space between its legs was smooth.

The Prayergiver seated himself. “I heard you speak of spells and holiness,” he continued. “Know that I am one who has seen true holiness and lives with it daily. You cannot deceive me.”

“I am called Arvil,” I responded, “and I too have seen holiness. Gaze upon the one with me, the one called Spellweaver, and tell me what you see.”

He leaned forward. Birana stood up, knowing what she would have to do, but her eyes were lowered and her face aflame. She took off her shirt and then lowered her pants. I wanted to leap up and conceal her body from this man, from all men.

“Tell me what She is,” I said.

He held up a hand. “She is a holy aspect, and you are Her messenger.” He stared at her for a long moment, then covered his eyes. Birana’s hands trembled as she put on her garments.

As she sat down, she began to speak the words I had given her the night before. “I come among you to test you. It was My wish to reveal Myself to you, a holy man, but to keep the guise of a boy before others because they must not know what I am. Arvil is My true servant, for I chose him from among all men to travel with Me to this place.” She said these words calmly, but strain and fear marked her face.

The Prayergiver’s hand fell, but he kept his eyes down. I had thought he would grovel. Perhaps he was too awed to move, or perhaps he was certain of his place in the Lady’s thoughts. “You are to have a truthsaying. Shall my band know of You then, Holy Lady?”

“There must be no truthsaying for Arvil and Me, Prayergiver,” she replied. “If the magic in us were released, it would overcome your band. They must not know what I am, though I will bless them in My thoughts.”

“I know Your nature, Holy One. No longer will Your garb conceal Your form from me, for I know what is hidden. Others with sharp eyes will know a vision has been imparted to me when I step from this house. If You dwell among us for long, others will see what You are.”

“I cannot stay here,” she said. “I must travel to another place.”

He looked up at her then. “I think I know what You seek. You are not the first holy vision I have beheld.”

Birana’s eyes widened. “You will take us to the place where you saw this vision.”

The Prayergiver shielded his face. “Forgive me, but I do not know if I can. I was told I must never enter that place again.”

Birana said, “You will be going there with Me.”

“Lady, forgive me, but they may not see what You are when we approach. I see that You wear a body of flesh and bone, and although You must have the power to shield Yourself, You may bring a curse on that other band should they raise their weapons against You before they know the truth. You may bring a curse upon me for leading You into such danger.”

This man was wise, and his eyes saw much. He believed Birana had hidden powers she could use, for his awe of the Lady would not allow him to think anything else. Yet his eyes had seen her weakness, had shown him her vulnerability.

“I cannot stay here.” Her voice was fainter, more desperate.

“Forgive me, Holy Lady, but it might be best if You did for a time. A man of that other band may come here to fetch a boy to take back with him, and I could tell him of the vision You have shown me. You could then travel safely with him to the place where all the Prayergivers saw holiness.”

Birana was silent. I knew that she wanted to ask him exactly what he had seen there, but could not without revealing that she was not as all-knowing as the Prayergiver thought.

“Will such a man come here soon?” I asked.

“I cannot say. He will come, but he may not travel here this season or the next. He might come during another summer. I cannot know, unless it is in Your power to summon one here.”

Birana’s hands tightened into fists. I wondered what she would say. The Prayergiver was studying her, perhaps curious about how many powers she seemed to lack.

“I shall do my best,” he said at last, “to see that Your secret is kept here if that is Your will.”

“I cannot wait,” she said. “You must find a way for Me and My servant Arvil to travel to the place where you saw your vision. Whatever befalls this form I wear, I promise you that you will be free from blame and that your band will not suffer. You must guide Me. My powers grow weaker in your world and must be restored to Me in that other place. I am testing you. You must not fail My test.”

He sighed; his beardless face had the look of a man contending with himself. “I fear this test,” he said, “but if You will it, then I must go with You. I shall bring the best men with me to lead You there.”

She shook her head. “No others. We must go alone. It is only you who must know what I am, and on you rests the fate of your band. You must never tell your men what I am.”

“I swear to You I will not. I’ve kept holy secrets for a long time.” His dark eyes narrowed. “But my men will be wondering what has been said in here. How can I utter false words before an aspect when I speak to them?”

“You need not say false words,” I said, “only words that do not reveal all of the truth.”

He rubbed at his face, then got up, bowed to Birana, and went to the spot where his belongings lay. From under the hides, he took a small round object with a piece of hide stretched across it.

We followed him outside. The clearing was empty, but eyes peered at us from the doors of dwellings. As we sat down, the Prayergiver struck the hide with his hands and made the sound of a heart beating. “Come out!” he cried. “Your Prayergiver has words for you.”

Men and boys emerged from the dwellings and quickly seated themselves in the open space. On the wall, the men guarding the camp looked toward us. “You, there,” the Prayergiver said to the nearest boy. “Mark my words, and then go to those on the wall and to those hidden by the trail and tell them all that I have said.”

The men waited. Their Headman sat among them, his wide bulk dwarfing those next to him, his face set in a frown. “You will prepare the feast,” the Prayergiver said, “and we shall eat of it tonight, but I tell you that these two travelers will not join our band.”

The men muttered at this. The Headman suddenly stood up and strode toward us, then sat down before the Prayergiver. “I’ll say what will happen.” The Headman struck his chest. “You have honor as our Prayergiver, but I am Headman. We have not yet had our truthsaying. These two cannot leave until they have passed through it.”

“There has been another kind of truthsaying inside my house. These two have been touched by holiness and have revealed a vision to me, one of such power that I cannot speak of it. Their place is with the band to the east where I saw a holy vision so long ago. We shall have our feast and honor them for revealing more holiness to me, and then I’ll take them to that other band.”

“It must be so,” Jerlan called out. “I see by the Prayergiver’s face that he speaks truly.”

The Headman hit the ground with his fist. “I am Headman! I say that they must drink so we know the truth about them.”

“Do you question me, Irlan?” The Prayergiver tensed. “I know more of holy matters than anyone here. Do you question one who must live closer to holiness than all of you, and who will know a true vision?”

Irlan’s lip curled. “Even a holy man might be deceived. How do you know that some evil hasn’t cloaked itself in the guise of good? You say these two were touched by holiness. I see only a strange boy, who tends beasts and has not shown skill at other crafts, and a strange man, who is hardly more than a boy himself. Jerlan says they have no band, but perhaps they have lied and will lead their band here later.”

“They wish nothing from us, only to be led to that other camp.”

“If you take them there, you may only bring evil upon us all.”

The men in the clearing were now whispering among themselves in their own tongue. Some were looking at Irlan, while others gazed at the Prayergiver, as if not knowing which man to believe.

The Prayergiver leaned forward until his face was close to the Headman’s. Still using the holy speech, he said, “The vision I saw was a true one, and I won’t have you bring a curse upon us by denying it.” He spoke so softly that none of the others could hear, and even I, sitting beside him, could barely catch his words. “Perhaps we must settle this as we settle other disagreements. I can cast off my holy duties for a time, and we can contend as two men only. The victor can decide what comes to pass.”

Irlan grinned. “You are an old man, Prayergiver.”

“And you are a fat one who has not hunted for many seasons. When I contend with you as Girlan, the man I once was, we will be matched.”

“I am ready to fight you,” Irlan whispered.

“Never before has a Prayergiver had to contend with a Headman, and I wonder what will come of it. There is no way to settle this with only a test of skill. This must be a battle to the death.”

Irlan pressed his lips together.

“If I die, you must become Prayergiver. You will then know what these two travelers are when their vision is imparted to you, and you will suffer for knowing I spoke truthfully. You will spend the rest of your life in prayer, inside my house, atoning for your deed and saying the prayers we require, and I don’t know if you are ready for such a life.”

The Headman’s eyes shifted a little.

“But I may win, for the spirit of the Lady guides me. I may choose to be merciful and spare your life, but the others will see that you cannot remain Headman and cannot be Prayergiver, either. I wonder if you could stay among us then. Very well, Irlan. Say now if we must put aside our bond as band members to settle this. I have spoken softly, and no one has heard. You won’t lose your pride if you rise up now and tell the men we will do as I wish.”

Irlan was silent, then lifted his head and gazed at me with such hatred that I almost looked away. I had witnessed his loss of face. It came to me that the Headman would seek to regain it somehow.

Irlan stood up, grunting as he lifted his heavy body, then turned to face the others. “It is my duty to protect this band,” he bellowed, “but I see now that we are in no danger from these two travelers. I shall heed the Prayergiver, and we’ll have our feast, but there will be no truthsaying tonight.” He puffed out his chest as he walked toward his men.

The Prayergiver rose and motioned to us. “I shall walk with the travelers to their shelter.”

The men parted as we walked past. Jerlan nodded at me while Tulan smiled. Jerlan, I saw, had forgotten his angry words. Irlan stood with a small group of men, but their eyes were hard as they gazed at us. The Headman had spoken, but he had not settled this matter in his mind.

“I would have you abide in my house,” the Prayergiver said to me as we came to my shelter, “but a Prayergiver must dwell alone. Since you are not to join us, you should remain here, outside our dwellings.”

“You spoke bravely to the Headman,” I said.

“I drew courage from the Holy One.” He made a gesture of respect to Birana. “She would have lent me Her strength in a fight.”

I frowned. “But he is still angry.”

“Irlan is full of bluster. When I chose him as Headman, he was strong and brave, and yet I sensed then that he might be one who should follow rather than lead. But the others wanted him as Headman and would not easily have accepted another, so I chose him.”

“We didn’t seek to divide your band, Prayergiver.”

“You will soon be gone, and Irlan will bluster and then forget. Rest easy, Arvil.” But I saw the doubt in his eyes before he turned away.

 

 

For the feast that night, we were taken to one of the dwellings. The men had placed mats around their hearth, and there they sang songs and spoke among themselves as they passed soup and fish to us. One of the men began to ask me what I had revealed to the Prayergiver, but the older man, who had come to sit with us, shook his head.

“Know that the magic I saw,” he said in the holy speech, “was for my eyes alone, and that it would dazzle one who has not lived in prayer and contemplation for as long as I have.”

From that dwelling we passed to another, where we ate meat and leaves from their gardens, and then to the house where Irlan lived with the hunters closest to him. As the others feasted, Irlan’s face darkened, and his eyes were often on me.

When the feast was over, some of the men left their dwellings to dance in the open space. The hunters gestured with their spears while those who gardened made motions at the ground with tools made of antlers and wood.

Jerlan came to me as Birana and I watched this dance. “I am sorry you won’t stay with us,” he said. “I am sorry that you didn’t tell me your true purpose when we hunted together. I would have sat outside the Prayergiver’s hut myself, waiting until he summoned me, and would then have asked him to summon you.”

“It wasn’t time to speak of it, Jerlan. My vision bid me to stay among you for a time until your virtue was revealed.” The false words fell easily from my lips. I looked down at Birana and felt a sadness then. I might have found a place with this band. I might have hunted with Jerlan and become his true friend.

I saw my life then not as one life, but as many forking paths, and a phantom Arvil seemed to stand with me, one who had walked another path and had come to another place. I saw that other Arvil join these men, and he seemed as real to me as my own body.

I shook off these thoughts. Had Birana not been with me, I would never have seen this camp at all, or have known of its ways. I would have been with Wise Soul and Wanderer, living as they did, with my questions forever unanswered.

Birana had led me here, and each turn in our path had led to something new and perhaps better than what I had left behind, however much I mourned for what I had lost. Our destination might be better still. She could have left me here, now that she had the Prayergiver to guide her. She might, in front of the Prayergiver, have ordered that I stay here, and I would have followed that command or risked the Prayergiver’s wrath. She still wanted me at her side; I would follow the path she walked.

“We must sleep soon,” I said.

Jerlan walked with us to our shelter. A fire burned near it. Tulan was with the horses over by the trees, and I guessed that he had made the fire. As we settled ourselves around the flames, the boy hurried toward us.

“I fed the horses,” Tulan said. “Even Wild Spirit will take food from me. I wanted them to share the feast.” His smile faded as he sat down next to his guardian. “Will you take the horses away, too?”

“I think we must,” I said. “We’ll no longer be here to teach you more about them.” I was also thinking that, if we could not enter that other camp, we would have to travel on.

Tulan’s mouth drooped. “I’ll miss them, Arvil.”

“You will not miss them,” Jerlan said. “We had no need of such beasts before.”

“I will miss you, Arvil,” the boy murmured. “I will miss Spellweaver, who was to teach me how to ride. I wish…”

“What is it you wish?” his guardian asked. Tulan did not reply. “I believe I know.” Jerlan scratched his head. “I have a question, Arvil and Spellweaver. Might Tulan travel to that other camp with you and the Prayergiver? It may be that he won’t be allowed to enter, but if they admit him, he could live close by their holy vision and be touched by it. I would be happy knowing that Tulan was so blessed, and that would ease the pain of giving him up.”

Tulan gazed at me expectantly. “May I?”

I glanced at Birana. A look of sadness and longing was in her eyes. Could she have grown closer to the boy? I burned with jealousy, then chided myself silently. Tulan was only a boy who could not have left an enclave more than six summers ago. Perhaps Birana only wanted a friend who was not yet old enough to share my longing for her.

“We would gladly travel with him,” I said. Tulan clapped his hands together. “But it is your Prayergiver who must agree to this as well.”

Jerlan put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “If that camp accepts you,” he said, “you cannot return here.”

The boy leaned against his guardian. “I’d miss you, Jerlan, but I want to go. I want to be with them both, and hear their tales, and learn more of their beasts. I’ll become a man in that other camp if they take me. Someday I may come here to fetch another boy for them.”

Jerlan ruffled his hair. “We’ll see what the Prayergiver says. He risks much going to that camp, even if he is to bring them news of holiness.” He got up and pulled Tulan to his feet. “We must rest now.”

 

 

The heaviness of the food inside me soon brought me sleep. A dream came to me, one in which aspects of the Lady gathered along the shore of the lake and held out their arms to me. Birana was among them, beckoning to me, and the part of my soul apart from the dream saw this as a sign that I would find a true refuge. Their hands gestured to me, and then another hand clutched at me. I was suddenly awake.

I was dragged from under the shelter. Our fire was low, revealing only the shadows of several men. “Seize them,” Irlan’s voice said, “and bear them to the place of testing.”

Two men held my arms against my sides. Two others gripped Birana; she did not struggle against them. We were led swiftly through the empty clearing and along the path by the gardens until we were outside the wall. Guards ran along the top of the wall but made no move to help us when they saw Irlan. One man gestured at a guard, and soon three torches had been set in the ground around us.

“No blood will be shed inside our camp,” the Headman said, “but we will settle this while the others sleep. You won’t have a truthsaying and so I cannot know if you have deceived our Prayergiver. Even one so holy can be led astray. You must therefore contend with me. If there is true holiness inside you, let it shield you now.”

“You had better believe your Prayergiver,” I said. “You accepted his word about the holy vision he saw before. Why do you doubt him now?”

“He traveled there with all the Prayergivers, and all saw the vision. Here, there is no other witness to the vision he claims you showed him. He may see holiness in you, but I see only two who have come here on the backs of beasts and have already begun to alter the ways we follow. I will fight you, who claim to be a man, and if your death proves you aren’t holy after all, the boy will soon lie at your side.”

“You don’t know what you will bring down upon yourself!” I shouted with all my power. One man stepped back while others glanced at one another. Two guards climbed down from the wall and raced back toward the dwellings.

“I am willing to test what I know with my own body, and prove its truth.” Irlan’s chest swelled. He took off his garments until he was bare to the waist.

He was, I saw then, a man uneasy with his power. Perhaps others besides the Prayergiver thought he was full of bluster. I had seen him back down in front of his Prayergiver; now he would prove that he was a man after all.

His men made a wide circle around us. I flexed my arms and took deep breaths as I pulled off my shirt. Irlan reached toward his belt and took out his knife, and I saw how we were to fight. My hand grasped the hilt of my metal blade, but I took little comfort from my knife. Irlan’s stone knife was sharp, and there were cords of muscle under his fat.

More men had now gathered on the wall and others were running toward us from the camp. “He has shared a feast with us,” Jerlan cried from the wall. “You heard what the Prayergiver said. He is to take them from this place tomorrow.”

“If holiness were truly theirs, I would allow it!” Irlan bellowed. “It is that I will test now. You will see that I’m right. Haven’t we thrived since I became Headman? Do you wish to see evil come upon us if these two travel east? Do you want that other band to discover that no holiness is in them and that we have harbored evil in our midst?”

“Headman,” Jerlan responded, “if you contend with this man, you must set aside the bond that binds you to us for that time.”

“And I’ll take up that bond again when he lies dead at my feet. You will see I was right, and there will be no more talk of how I’ve grown weaker in my leadership.”

He faced me, legs apart. The Prayergiver was now on the wall above me, but this matter had gone too far even for him to stop the fight. I glanced at Birana. The men standing with her had released her. Her hands were on her coat, as though she was ready to tear the garment from herself. By revealing what she was, she could save me.

Anger burned in me. “I shall fight, Spellweaver,” I shouted, “and you will watch.” She dropped her hands. This was a matter between Irlan and me, and I would be diminished if she revealed herself to save me. Then I forgot everything except the man who wanted me dead.

I danced toward Irlan, muttering curses in my old tongue. His powerful arm slashed at me. I leaped back, unharmed. His body swayed on his heavy legs. I could dodge his sweeps, but would only tire myself with the effort. He moved and swung his arm, staying close to the circle of men so that I could not get behind him. His knife darted at my face and I ducked. If he got too close to me, he could knock me to the ground with one blow. He slashed at me again and I feinted.

Thus we went on, lunging forward, darting to one side and slashing the air, probing each other for weakness. His body gleamed with sweat from his exertions as he slashed at me. I thought of what I would have to do against him. His sweat became rivers flowing down his chest and shone on his unbearded face. Strong as he was, he had grown too fat to fight easily. I began to see that he might tire first.

We went on in this way until it seemed half the night had passed. I panted for breath. Irlan’s fist grazed my face and nearly sent me to the ground, but I regained my footing.

“Come, Irlan,” I said in the holy speech as I swept my knife before me. “You are Headman of a great band, you are large with the wealth of your camp, and yet you cannot defeat me.” I paused for breath and heard his louder gaspings for air. “I am shielded from you, Irlan. Your knife cannot touch me. When you lie before me, I will set my foot on your neck and grind your face in the dust.”

His face grew red. I went on tormenting him with the foulest words I knew until his face flamed and his breath came from him in great gusts.

He stepped away from the circle and lumbered toward me. I jumped quickly to one side. His back was open to me. Before he could turn, I passed my knife to my left hand and struck him in the lower back with my strongest blow. He staggered. I hit him again and felt him give way.

He fell, and the ground seemed to shake with his falling. I leaped to his head and dropped down to his arms on my knees, pinning him to the ground. He kicked helplessly, his face in the dirt, his body heaving under me. My blood sang in my ears, throbbing with a sound like the Prayergiver’s drum. Very slowly, I made a long scratch along Irlan’s neck with my knife and then another along his back.

I got up. “I have won,” I shouted with the little breath I had left. “You see I had the power of death over him.” My chest heaved as I gulped air. “But he is your Headman, and so I won’t take his life. You must decide his fate.”

All of the men were looking toward the Prayergiver. Irlan sat up, raised one trembling arm, then let it fall. “I am one of you,” he said feebly.

The Prayergiver put out one hand, palm open. “You put off your bond when you fought. You said to Jerlan that you would take it up again when Arvil lay at your feet. He doesn’t lie at your feet. You are no longer one of us. You did evil, Irlan. Now the Lady has shielded him from you and shown what he is. You can no longer be Headman, for you failed the contest you yourself sought. Your contest was to be to the death, and it is death you have won.”

I went to Birana as the circle closed around Irlan. We walked together toward the opening in the wall. None of the men followed us. Irlan’s screams were already sounding through the night as we walked past the gardens. I did not look back. Birana halted, and I heard the sound of retching.

I put my hands on her head, trying to steady her. “You are safe,” I said, “and I’ll sleep soundly now.”

 

 

I had thought that only preparations for the journey remained, but now the camp was without a Headman and a new one had to be chosen. The Prayergiver left his hut, took up Irlan’s knife and spear, and went from one dwelling to another as both Prayergiver and Headman to learn what was in the men’s hearts. At the end of the day, he surrendered the weapons to Jerlan, and it was Jerlan who became the new Headman.

This change required more prayers from everyone in front of the Prayergiver’s house, where each man had to pass before the Prayergiver and Jerlan and kneel as he spoke holy words to the pair. Birana and I were the last to honor Jerlan, but because we were not members of the band, we bowed and did not kneel. Jerlan smiled at us then, for if we had not come there, perhaps he would not have been Headman.

Even after this, the band was not ready for us to leave. Jerlan had said Tulan might travel with us. Now he was Headman, and worried that showing his charge such favor might bring about hard feelings. He decreed a contest among the boys, saying that the winner would go with us.

My mind was not on these contests, although I hoped that Tulan would win them. We sat with the Prayergiver as the boys wrestled, shot arrows, ran footraces to the wall and back, threw spears, aimed stones in slings at targets, and threw knives at a bare spot on a distant tree. Jerlan made signs in the dirt at the end of each contest while I watched and longed to be away.

When the contests were over, Tulan had won the footraces and the stone-slinging, while his arrows had found their targets more often than those of others. No other boy had won as many contests, and perhaps the way Birana had smiled at the boy had cheered him. I praised him when he came before his guardian and saw the pride in his face. His journey was no longer a gift, but a prize he had won.

Jerlan stood up, beaming at his charge, and then spoke. “We rest tonight. Tomorrow we shall gather food for the travelers, and on the next day say farewell to them. May the Lady bless us all.”

 

 

Before we left, Jerlan wished us well and hugged his charge, and although Tulan’s eyes shone at this leave-taking, he held himself in and did not let his tears fall.

The Prayergiver walked ahead of us as we led the horses through the wall. We walked south and then east, following a faint trail through the wood. When the camp was completely hidden, Birana mounted Flame.

“I would ride,” Tulan said as he gazed up at her.

“You must learn how to sit on a horse first,” she replied. “When we stop to rest later, I’ll show you.” Tulan grinned as she spoke. We had decided to keep Birana’s secret from the boy until we reached the other camp and learned whether those men would accept him, but Tulan was already seeing her as a friend.

The Prayergiver shook his head. “I am too old to learn such a thing.” Old as he was, he walked with the sure step of a younger man. Through the trees, the lake below glistened as the sun shone upon it. I was leading Star and told the Prayergiver a little of how the horse had carried me to this land from the west.

“I’ll tell you this,” the Prayergiver murmured when we were farther ahead of Birana and Tulan. “You have brought me some joy, whatever awaits us, for if I did not have to lead you, I would have remained in my camp until I died. I’m grateful for the privilege of praying to the Lady for my band, but such a life has been hard for me.”

I thought of the Wolf and how he had died as an Elder. “It is not a bad life for an old one to be cared for by those who are younger,” I said.

“But I was a young Headman when the Prayergiver before me died, and the thought of spending my days in my house has sometimes weighed heavily on me.” He glanced back at Birana and made a sign. “May the Lady forgive me.”

“The Lady would understand.”

“The Lady is good, and, had I not been a Prayergiver, I would not have beheld Her form two times.”

These were welcome words, and again I wanted to know the secret of the camp to the east.

“Often,” he continued, “I went to the wall at night and tested myself with one of the guards at the skills of men. Sometimes the men would question me for doing this, but I would say that I had given the days to my prayers and that the nights were my own. I often told the Headman who came after me that he would do well to hone his arts from time to time.”

“Irlan should have listened to you,” I said politely, although I was grateful he had not.

“Do not speak his name. He was an unholy fool, and it’s good that he’s no longer able to bring a curse upon us. I am older now and have made a wiser choice. Jerlan will be a better Headman and even those closest to that other man will see that as time passes.”

We did not speak again until we stopped to water the horses and eat a meal. The Prayergiver asked for a story to carry back to his band, and I told him Wanderer’s tale of the man who had dwelled in a shrine and taken on the Lady’s form. I hoped this would lead him to talk more of his first vision, but he did not speak of that.

As we talked, Birana showed Tulan how to mount, how to sit on a horse, and led Flame in a circle around us while the boy sat on her back. When we set off again, Birana allowed Tulan to ride Flame with her, and without his shorter steps slowing us we were able to increase our pace. The lake wrinkled as the sun gleamed in its folds, and the trees sang their songs to us as their limbs sought to embrace the sky.

 

 

We made our camp by the lake. By morning, a mist hung over the water, and as we went back to the trail, rain began to fall.

“We have needed more rain,” the Prayergiver said, “but even more rain will not restore our soil.” He went on to tell me of how growing plants tired the soil even when some was left fallow for a season, and of how his band might have to move its camp in seasons to come.

“It would be hard to move such a camp,” I said.

“Yet it has been moved before. Once it lay farther from the shore, and before that to the north of where it is now.”

The old man led us off the trail later that day. “Another camp lies ahead,” he told me in a low voice. “Although they have truce with us, it is better if we don’t stop with them, for they might wonder about our purpose.”

We made camp that night far above the lake, and below to the west, I saw the distant smoke of a camp’s fires. The rain was only a drizzle by now, moist droplets that seemed to hang in the air. Even from this place, the northern shore of the lake was hidden, and I could not see where to the east it ended.

The rain stopped during the night but did not cool the land. By morning the sun gave off much heat, and the air hung still and heavy. Tulan had taken off his shirt, and the Prayergiver and I wore only our pants to protect our legs, but Birana dared not pull off her deerskin coat. By the time we came to the trail again, I could see her discomfort.

When evening came, the heat still clung to the land. As we made camp, Birana came to me and whispered, “I must bathe.”

“We shall see,” I replied, then took the Prayergiver aside while Tulan rubbed down the horses. “My companion wishes to bathe,” I said. “In this form, Her body is as ours, but She does not wish that men set eyes upon Her lest the sight rob them of their souls.”

He assured me that another camp’s boats would not pass this way on the water and that travelers were unlikely to move along the trail in the evening, but promised to keep watch with Tulan by the trail.

“I’ll go with my companion to the lake,” I said, “and bathe there when She is done.”

His brows lifted above his wise eyes. “Best that you also do not look too long upon Her, Arvil, however favored you are. Her spell lies heavily upon you.”

Birana and I made our way down to the lake and found a sheltered spot where we could not be seen from above. I told her what I had said to the Prayergiver, and she covered her mouth as she laughed.

“Lest the sight of me rob them of their souls!” She shook her head, and I did not say that she had stolen mine. She turned her back to me as she took off her garments; this time, she did not ask me to look away, and I did not turn aside. Did this mean she had grown easier with me? Perhaps it meant only that she knew I would not dare to seek blessings now that I was aware of what they might lead to for her.

She crept down to the water and my heart raced as I beheld her. Her face, neck, and hands had grown browner, but her skin was pale as moonlight, and I longed to put my hands upon her. Soft cries escaped her as the coldness of the lake raised tiny bumps on her skin. She put out her arms and moved upon the water. Her arms curved as they carried her forward and her buttocks rose above the surface as she kicked.

Suddenly she disappeared below the lake. Her feet poked above the water, and then she was gone. I jumped down to the edge of the bank, helpless, fearing for her, and then her head bobbed up. I let out my breath.

“You go too far!” I cried.

She laughed and sank below the water again, then reappeared closer to the shore. “You were to bathe,” I said, “not to make me fear for your safety.”

“I’m only swimming. Don’t you know how to swim?”

I shook my head.

“I’ll show you how.” She moved her arms and came closer. I looked around. Tulan and the Prayergiver would call out if anyone approached. I shed my garments quickly and entered the lake.

Birana did not look at me until water was up to my waist, and then she moved her arms and showed me how to move mine. I struggled and splashed about, unable to bring my arms and legs to work together, for the water kept pulling me below. Birana swam out, but I followed her only to a place where I could stand with my head above the lake.

“Didn’t your band ever swim?” she asked when she had drifted nearer.

“We had no need, but if I am to live by a lake, I see I may have to learn.”

Her feet rose up as she floated. The nipples of her breasts were hard. I lifted my own feet and again gulped water as my arms flailed. She laughed as she watched me. I looked foolish before her and yet felt joy at hearing her laugh, at feeling the cool caresses of the lake’s currents. I had made her laugh and echoed her laughter.

As we left the water, I reached for her, only meaning to take her hand, although I wanted to press her body to mine. Her brown hair hung in wet curls around her face and shoulders. Her belly was taut between the rounded curves of her hips and her breasts glistened with droplets. As my hand touched hers, she started, pulled away, and hunched over, covering her breasts with one hand and the hairy place between her legs with the other.

We did not look at each other as we dressed. When I had finished putting on my garments, she was sitting on a rock by the water, brushing grass and pine needles from her feet. The foot-coverings she used inside her boots were worn. I sat on the ground beside her as I glanced at her callused, scabbed feet.

“I should make new foot-coverings for you,” I said, “and softer boots to wear over them.”

“Tulan asked me about my boots,” she said. “He said others in his band had noticed them. I told him that they were taken from a scavenger.” Her voice was high, and she kept her eyes from me.

I said, “I meant only to touch your hand, Birana.”

“I saw what was in your eyes.”

“You were easy with me. No barrier stood between us. I wanted only to touch you as I would a friend.” Then more words I had not meant to say flowed from me. “No, that isn’t so. I wanted to touch your hand, and then other parts of you, and I wanted to feel your hands on me.”

She stood up quickly. “You mustn’t say this.”

I got to my feet and pulled her toward me. Memories of aspects came to me, recollections of how the spirit-women had put their mouths on mine. I held her against me as my hand lifted her face to mine, then pressed my lips to hers.

Her mouth was hard. Then her lips softened a little under mine, parting. My mouth opened. She quickly turned her head from me and twisted in my arms until I released her. She sat down and covered her face.

“Birana…”

“I was only thinking—you are like someone I knew.” She huddled on the rock, her body stooped. “I forgot myself. I won’t let it happen again. I won’t uncover myself in front of you. I should have asked you to turn away.”

“Don’t say such words to me. You grant little else. At least let my eyes know you.”

She pulled on her boots. We climbed up toward our camp. When we were close to it, and she could not protest without drawing the Prayergiver’s attention, I leaned toward her and took her arm for a moment. “I shall treasure that time,” I whispered, “when I brought laughter to you and our souls communed for a time in that laughter.”

She turned her head from me, but not before I had seen her eyes grow gentle and knew that I had moved her.

 

 

The Prayergiver and Tulan bathed at dawn before we left our camp. Later that day, we again left the trail and skirted a cove where, the Prayergiver said, men often went in boats to fish.

The next day, we circled around another camp of men. By this time, Tulan had grown more used to the horses and was even able to ride Wild Spirit for a little while, something I still feared to do. “You would make a good horseman,” I said to him.

He smiled with pride. “The band will have to take me,” he said. “I can do anything they can do, and I can ride as well.”

“Hold your tongue, young one,” the Prayergiver muttered. “It is that band who will decide matters, not your pride.”

Tulan tossed his head as Birana rode up to his side. He seemed happy to be with her. Although he still thought of her as an older boy, she was unlike others he had known; she did not order him around and listened patiently to his tales of his life. I almost wished myself in the boy’s place, for Tulan was able to be her friend without aching for her.

As we moved closer to the lake again, I saw what seemed to be the northern shore, then understood that the land was an island. The lake still stretched on, without end. The Prayergiver had grown more solemn, and the prayers he murmured from time to time as we walked became more frequent. I guessed that we were finally coming closer to our destination.

That evening, after we had made our camp and collected wood for the fire, the old man motioned to us.

“I must say this now,” he said. “We draw closer to the camp where I saw my vision, and we must be more careful. I believe their truce with me will keep them from harming us, and yet I am returning when I promised I would not. It may be that they won’t accept us in their camp.”

The Prayergiver made a gesture at Tulan, then told him to fetch water from the lake. When the boy was gone, the old man continued, “If they learn what She is, they will accept Her. They may turn you away, Arvil, even if you are a holy messenger. Tulan and I can go back to our old camp, but your presence among us might create hard feeling in those who were close to the former Headman. I would have Jerlan able to take up his duties without that problem.”

“I understand,” I said.

“You might find a place among another lake band, but you’ll have to pass through a truthsaying with them. You would reveal the visions you have had.”

“Then I’ll go east.” The words pained me. I did not care where I went without Birana.

The Prayergiver shook his head and made a sign.

“Do you know what lies to the east?” I asked.

“There are two camps on the easternmost shore, and a gorge through which a river feeds the lake. It is said that evil ones once preyed upon the lake bands in ancient times, and that they lived in the east. I don’t know what lies there now and don’t want to know. Even the Lady turns Her eyes from that land.” He made another sign.

“I will want Arvil with Me,” Birana said. Despite my worries, her words eased me. She had said nothing about what had passed between us by the lake, and I had feared she might want me away from her side.

The Prayergiver was silent for a moment. “May the Lady forgive me for saying this, but I cannot hide my thoughts from Her and will speak them aloud to You, Holy One. You showed me a holy vision. The Headman who came after me challenged the truth of this vision, and now he is dead, and perhaps that shows the truth of it. But it comes to me that an evil one can also have power over men and seek to deceive them. Your presence in our camp caused us to lose our Headman, and foolish as he was, that’s not a good sign. Such things, when they happened in the past, were evil omens. I believe You holy, but let me tell You now that the band You go to will see the truth of You.”

“They will not harm Her,” I said, wanting to believe it.

When the boy returned, the Prayergiver beckoned to him. “Tulan, your guardian asked me to say this to you when we were close to that camp. If they allow you to enter, you will not leave.”

“I know that.”

“But you have not thought much about what I will say now. It is said that those men, because a vision has come to them, are not required to travel to shrines to be called. It is why they come among the lake bands to seek boys. You’re too young to know much of the special blessings the Lady sends to men and older boys in shrines and in Her enclave. Such blessings are the greatest joys and pleasures a man can know, and I don’t know what blessings this other band can give you in place of them.”

Tulan lifted his head. “Living near a holy place will be enough for me.”

“You think that now, lad, but when you are older, your body will burn for such blessings.”

“There will be men,” Tulan said, “and other boys.”

“Pleasant as those joys are, they are less than the Lady can give, for She touches the soul as well as the body.” The Prayergiver sighed. “Jerlan asked me to say this so that you would know what it is you’re choosing. If you wish, we can say nothing to that band about your desire to join them, and you can return to our camp. There will be no disgrace in that for you.”

“No,” the boy answered. “I want to go.”

The old man rubbed his chin. “I wonder if it is holiness you want or simply the chance to stay with those beasts.”

“I want to stay with Spellweaver and Arvil, too.”

I smiled at the boy’s words. Perhaps, knowing that I could never again go to an enclave and be given a boy, and that young Hasin would have to live his life without me, I was growing to care for Tulan. Yet the day might come when he would feel his soul stir, and I wondered how he would look at Birana then. I might have to protect her from him. Any affection for Tulan would end.

“Ah.” The Prayergiver shrugged. “The young often seem to want what is new and different until they learn some wisdom.”

“You also seek some newness,” I said. “Here you are with us, not quite sure of what lies ahead.”

“You speak truly. Some youth is in my soul still.”

We slept and, in the morning, the Prayergiver said many prayers as we prepared to go to what I hoped would be our refuge.

 

 

Toward midday, I felt eyes upon us and knew we were being watched. I caught no sight of anyone. These men had the stealth of Jerlan and his band and betrayed themselves with no sound. As we walked on, the cries of birds echoed among the trees, but something in their song made me wonder if it was birds that sang it.

As we reached a clearing that looked out over the lake, a voice behind us said, “Cast down your weapons.”

We obeyed. Four men dropped to the ground from the trees around the clearing, lifted their bows, and aimed their arrows at us. “We come in peace,” the Prayergiver said.

One man lowered his bow. “You wear the garments of the lake bands,” he continued in the holy speech, “as does that boy, and yet you bring two strangers here, and beasts as well. You know that you cannot enter our camp.”

“I am Prayergiver for my band. I have traveled here before and have seen your holy vision.”

The man gestured angrily. “Then you know you were not to return.”

The Prayergiver held out his hands. “If I cannot enter, then bring your Prayergiver outside your camp, and I shall speak to him of another vision I have seen.”

“Another vision?” The stranger scowled.

“I shall tell your Prayergiver of holiness.”

“He’s too old and weak to leave the camp,” another man said.

“Then bring out your Headman, so that I may speak to him. I tell you that, blessed as you are now, your blessings will be multiplied if you heed me and welcome these travelers. If you do not, a curse will fall upon you.”

The first man who had spoken laughed. “Do you think we, so loved of the Lady, can be cursed by you?”

“It will be so if you don’t welcome these two travelers.”

“We take strangers into our camp no more and speak to them only away from it. I shall tell these two now that, if we do not like what we hear, they must die. We have a truce with you, Prayergiver, but not with them.”

“I must speak to your Headman,” the Prayergiver said firmly. “You know that I wouldn’t have traveled here and left my band without my prayers for something of little consequence.”

The men spoke among themselves, and then another stepped forward. “You may turn back now, and we shall let you leave safely.”

The Prayergiver shook his head. “I’ll stay until your Headman speaks to me.”

“You risk breaking your truce with us, old man.”

“Then I’ll risk it.”

The men said more to the Prayergiver in the lake tongue, and he replied in the same speech. At last one man turned and ran into the wood while the others remained.

“He will fetch their Headman,” the Prayergiver said. “It is he who will have to decide about us. It seems that while we wait, we must make our camp here.”

 

 

By nightfall, no one had come for us. We would have to sleep under the eyes of the men who guarded us.

The horses had been tethered, but our guards kept well away from them. I raised a shelter for Birana and then lay down beside her. “If the Headman doesn’t come,” I said, “you will have to show them what you are.”

She shivered. “But the Prayergiver seems to think it’s important to speak to this Headman.”

“It doesn’t matter. Would you rather feel an arrow in your chest?”

She said no more that night, but once she called out in her sleep. I put my hand on her shoulder to calm her, wondering if it had been wise to come here.

In the morning, the Prayergiver took out some food, but I had no appetite for it. I gazed at the piece of dried fish in my hand for a moment, then rose and walked toward our guards. “For you,” I said, “so that you will know we mean no harm.”

One man stretched out a hand, but his companion slapped his arm down. “Don’t take it. We will not take food from one who may have to die at our hands.” His brown eyes were hard as he looked at me.

I walked back to Birana and sat down. “Can this camp be so far?” I asked the Prayergiver.

“It isn’t far, but perhaps the Headman must decide if he should come here.”

“And if he does not?”

The old man glanced at Tulan, then spoke softly. “If he doesn’t, hope those others see the truth before you die. I have a truce with them. I can defend you only with words.”

I waited impatiently, thinking of trying to escape with Birana on our horses before they could stop us. But it would be useless to flee. We did not know this wood, and the horses, slowed by underbrush, might not be able to outrun the men.

Three men suddenly emerged from the trees. A fourth man followed them into the clearing, and I knew before I was told that he was Headman here. He was tall, even taller than I, and his spear was decorated with feathers as Irlan’s had been. His unbearded face, with its strong chin and even features unmarked by blows, was one of beauty. His light brown hair fell to his shoulders and though his bare, broad chest was nearly as wide as Irlan’s, he carried no fat on his body. I did not want to risk a contest with this man.

The Prayergiver rose quickly and bowed; Birana and I followed his example. The Headman spoke a few words in the lake tongue.

“Greetings, Headman,” the Prayergiver answered in holy speech. “I would speak to you in this tongue, for it is holiness I bring to you.”

“Do not stain your soul with false words, Prayergiver,” the Headman replied in the same speech. “You were not to travel here again, but now I’m told you have seen a vision. What holiness can you bring us that we don’t already have?”

“I bring holiness, and you will see it and be sorry for your words. I swear by the Lady that I’ll offer my life freely to you if you do not find holiness, for I don’t want to live if my vision was a false one.”

These words had clearly moved the Headman. He handed his spear to one of his men, then said, “And how will I know the truth of this vision?”

“You will see it.” The Prayergiver waved a hand at me. “Our Headman challenged the truth this man told me, and contested with him, and died for his foolishness. This boy proved himself in contests before we came here and wants a place with you. I would have you accept both of them among your men.”

The Headman looked at Birana. “And this other boy?”

“That one will show you that my holy vision was true.”

The Headman’s lip curled. “We will take the smaller boy if I find you have been truthful. If not, he will carry the news of your death, the death you chose, and word of the deaths of these strangers back to your camp.”

“They are my friends!” Tulan cried out. “You mustn’t hurt them.”

“Be silent,” the Headman said. I put a hand on Tulan’s shoulder, moved by his words but afraid of what the Headman might do. He looked down at Tulan from his great height and the shadow of a smile touched his lips. “Brave words are empty unless followed by deeds, and you are too small to give your words force.” He looked around at his men, then turned back to the Prayergiver. “You say that your Headman challenged the truth of your vision. Didn’t a truthsaying reveal the truth?”

The old man said, “There was no need for a truthsaying, as you will see.” He moved closer to Birana. “This one will show you.”

As the Headman gazed steadily at Birana with his dark eyes, a look of wonder and then understanding passed over his face. I was suddenly sure, without knowing why, that he had guessed what she was. “Prayergiver,” he said, “you will come with this one and with me, and we shall see what truth is revealed. If an evil one has deceived you, I will not have my men stained by the evil.”

He walked toward the trees. Birana, head bowed, followed him, the Prayergiver at her side. I wanted to follow her, to shield her however I could.

I sat down with Tulan to wait. I would never forgive myself if harm came to her; I would contend with this Headman even if it meant my death. A long time seemed to pass, and then there was a shout from the trees. My throat was dry with fear.

The Headman came into the clearing, holding out an arm as Birana and the Prayergiver emerged from the trees. “Holy messenger!” he cried to me. “Forgive me for my words.” I knew then that we were safe and yet saw no awe or fear in this man’s face, only triumph and pride. “Kneel!” he shouted to the others. “Know that we who were blessed are blessed again. The Lady has come among us in this guise, and a holy aspect is among us.”

Birana had taken off her coat and held it at her side. Her belt was over her shirt, around her waist, making the swell of her breasts and hips apparent. This was enough to convince the men, who knelt and struck their heads on the ground. Tulan gaped at me for a moment, then threw himself onto the grass.

“She and Her messenger seek to live among us,” the Headman continued. “Give thanks that we have been found worthy once more.” Hope rose in me. His words could mean only that he had seen at least one of Birana’s kind before. Yet still he did not bow but stood easily at her side, as though this vision were no more than his due.

Birana was pale. Fear marked her face, and her hands trembled at her sides. She did not look like one who had found a refuge. She staggered, then righted herself, and I wondered what she feared now.

 

 

I helped Birana mount Flame. Her hands were cold to my touch. “She is truly holy,” one man said, “for Her power has tamed even these beasts.”

“Tulan shall guide Her horse,” I said as I handed the reins to the boy. He smiled at me, his eyes wide with awe.

A dark look passed over the Headman’s face as he came to my side, and then vanished as he nodded at me. I thought I had seen anger, but how could I have angered him? “I’ll lead you to my camp,” he said.

The Headman walked with Tulan while I followed with the other horses. The Prayergiver and the other men walked behind me. Soon we came to land where tree stumps stood, and then to a patch of cleared land where only some grass and a few shrubs grew. Ahead was a wall of dirt and stone much like the one around the Prayergiver’s camp.

“An aspect of the Lady comes among us,” the Headman shouted to the men on the wall. They cast down their weapons and bowed before us as the Headman turned toward the Prayergiver. “You swore that you would not enter our camp again, so you must make camp here, but I’ll send out men to guard you. You will be brought some of our feast and will be given food and water and men to travel with you when you return to your own camp.”

The Prayergiver bowed his head.

“Blessed are you, who brought Her to us.” The Headman held out a hand, palm down. “May your band thrive, but you must not speak of these holy matters to them.”

“I swear that I’ll tell them only that you have accepted the travelers and the boy.” The old man embraced Tulan, then gripped my arm for a moment.

“I thank you for guiding us here,” I said.

“It is you I must thank, Arvil, and the Lady.” I felt sadness at this parting, but curiosity about what I would find here dispelled my sadder thoughts.

We went through the opening in the wall and passed gardens where other men bowed and knelt. This band seemed ever larger than Jerlan’s. We were led to a clearing surrounded by dwellings made of tree trunks, and there Birana dismounted.

“Our Prayergiver must see the vision now,” the Headman murmured as he took her arm and led her toward a small hut a few paces from the wall. I wondered that he could bring himself to touch her. They entered the hut and remained inside for a short time. When they came out again, Birana was even paler than before.

I tied our horses to a sapling near the Prayergiver’s house. Mats were set outside his door, and the Headman motioned to us to sit. “I must leave You for a while, but You may wait here while the men prepare our feast.” He bowed to Birana and then strode away.

The Prayergiver came out of his house, leaning on a stick. He was thin, older and more feeble than the Prayergiver who had guided us. He knelt before us, chanting many prayers as he made motions in the air with his clawed hands, then beckoned to Tulan. “Sit by me, young one, and tell me of your band and what happens now among them, and leave the Lady and Her messenger to await our bounty.” Another mat was brought, and the Prayergiver and Tulan sat down several paces from our side.

The men of the camp hurried into their dwellings to prepare their feast. Boys and gardeners passed us with baskets but did not speak to us. Most of the men in this camp, as in Jerlan’s, wore no beards or kept them short around their faces; Tulan had told me this was so the men would more closely resemble the Lady.

We were facing the lake and I saw that the camp overlooked a bay. Just below the clearing, on the shore, several boats were overturned. The Headman and two others were setting one of the boats in the water. The Headman climbed in and settled himself in the center while the two men paddled out onto the lake. An island lay out on the bay and seemed to be their destination. I narrowed my eyes but could not see what might lie there.

I glanced at Birana; her hands trembled. I lifted my eyes to her unhappy face. “You are safe now,” I murmured. “This band has more than did that other band, and you cannot be betrayed by these men if they don’t go to shrines. Why do you seem so sad?”

She looked toward the Prayergiver, but he was deep in talk with Tulan and too far from us to hear. Her jaw tightened. “The Headman,” she said between clenched teeth. “He didn’t just look at me, he put his hands on me, and so did the old man there, and they kept saying their holy words, but their hands were on me as if they saw nothing wrong in touching me. I wanted to scream. The Headman kept saying how holy I was, but I saw what was in his eyes.”

My face flamed. To have others look at her was bad enough; to think of their hands on her was more than I could stand. I struggled with my rage. “I am with you. No harm will come to you.” These were empty words, I knew.

“I thought this might be a refuge,” she said, “but there are only men.”

“You heard his words. He has seen your kind before.”

“Perhaps he dreamed it.”

“The Prayergiver didn’t,” I said. “A whole band would not have the same dream.”

The sun was lower in the sky. Men carried torches from their dwellings and set them around the clearing. Others followed, carrying baskets and food in clay pots to us. After they had set them down, they began to dance and chanted songs in their own speech. I ate of the food, but Birana took only water.

The men continued to dance, strutting before us, lifting their legs and jumping as they displayed themselves. The sun soon dropped behind the trees in the west, and still they danced and sang. Tulan swayed from side to side as he watched. Birana was still and silent, refusing to eat.

A young, dark-haired man with a bold face wove his way among the dancers and knelt before us, holding out meat. “Take my food, Holy One,” he said. “Take mine, if that of others displeases You.” Two others appeared at his side, also carrying food. “May we have Your blessing, if that is Your will.” Birana said nothing.

“You must eat,” I whispered. She made no sign that she had heard me.

The crowd of men in the clearing hid my view of the shore, but I thought I saw the light of a torch out on the lake. The dancers were growing more subdued and began to sing a more solemn song. Suddenly they drew apart and stood in lines on either side of the clearing.

Two boats had landed on the shore. A man carrying a torch climbed up from the bank. The Headman was walking behind him. Six men followed, bearing a litter on their shoulders. As the light of the torches around us illuminated this litter and the one who sat upon it, I nearly cried out.

A woman rode on the litter. Her black hair fell past her shoulders but could not hide her full breasts, only partly covered by her leather shirt. This was one who could not have come among them disguised, as Birana had. She gazed in my direction as the men bore her litter toward us, and even I, who knew the truth about Birana’s kind, trembled at the fierceness of this woman’s gaze.

The litter was set down in front of us. The woman pushed aside the fur that covered her feet and slowly stood up. She and Birana gazed at each other for a long moment. When I saw the joy on Birana’s face, part of me rejoiced, yet another part was saddened that her eyes had never held such joy when she looked at me.

“I welcome you, Sister and Holy One,” the black-haired woman said in a husky voice.

Birana leaped to her feet and embraced this woman. Her shoulders shook as the woman held her. “Please, some decorum,” the strange woman murmured in a voice I could barely hear. “Our worshippers expect it.”

Birana stepped back and wiped at her face with one sleeve. “I rejoice to see you, Holy One,” she said in her higher, lighter voice.

In this way, our life with this band began.