T'aakshi

The jade green stone walls of Kuchisoto’s temple loomed over T’aakshi from their vantage point at the top of a smoothed white marble staircase. On either side of him, weather-worn terracotta statues flanked the stairs in the shape of ferocious razor-fanged wolves, their fur curled like flame across their backs.

Several layers of curved roofs, similar to the rest of the town, capped the ocean green walls. Only here, the black timber holding the tiles in place were inlaid with intricate gold detail: sprawling and delicate floral patterns dotted with the occasional figure knelt in prayer amongst the leaves.

Narrowed wolf eyes tracked him all the way up the stairs as he followed the Ia-dou to the temple entrance, past the two guards stationed there, and through heavy wooden doors.

The temple’s main chamber was a simple enough room. A violet mat led visitors on a straight path towards a large raised dais at the back of the room, and a kneeling cushion set out before it. Twelve velvet-cushioned chairs sat in an arc on the dais facing the kneeling cushion, with six lit torch sconces burning behind them.

T’aakshi licked his suddenly dry lips and followed the violet fabric to the cushion, and kneeled down onto it. This was just a formality. There was no need to be nervous. He kept those things in the forefront of his mind, but it did nothing to calm the pounding in his chest.

“T’aakshi of the Su’roi has come to answer the summons of the Inari-da,” the Ia-dou called from his position just inside the doorway.

For a moment, only silence answered. Then, a doorway that T’aakshi hadn’t noticed in the wall behind the dais swung open, and six people ambled through, each perching themselves straight-backed, on a chair.

T’aakshi’s eyes found the most familiar of the figures first. S’aana was the Inari-da his father had dealt with most often and was the only one of the six he knew by name. In times past, each tribe would send a Self user to Kuchisoto to become Inari-da and represent the interests of the tribe. However, the Su’roi had not produced a channeler of its own in many years, and the Inari-da had chosen another to represent them in their ranks.

S’aana regarded him through narrowed eyes, her hands clasped together and resting lightly atop her lap. T’aakshi swallowed thickly. His father had always met even her iciest of glares as an equal, but now that she turned that hard stare upon him, it was a struggle just to not flinch away from it. All the Inari-da wore fine robes, and S’aana’s cerulean gown, trimmed with gold, not unlike the temple itself, only added to the aura of authority that seemed to radiate from the woman.

“So,” she began, her voice rasping and strained, yet somehow razor sharp. “T’aakshi of the Su’roi comes before us. It pleases us to receive you, boy. We only wish it wasn’t in circumstances such as these. All the Inari-da feel the loss of your father as keenly as any blade. He was a great man.”

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Several of the others murmured their agreement, and T’aakshi bowed, his fist pressed tight to his heart.

“Thank you.”

He meant to say more—the formal response was certainly meant to be longer—but he couldn’t force the words past his lips. Thankfully, S’aana did not appear offended, merely inclining her head in acknowledgement.

“Let us move on to why we are here, then. The Su’roi need a new Chief. As the son of the previous, and the first wielder of Self that your tribe has seen in some time, we believe you to be suitable.”

T’aakshi tensed. He had known it was coming, but hearing it out loud made it real. His answer here, no matter what it was, would change the course of his entire life. Before S’aana had said it aloud, he had been certain of his choice. He still was. Despite that, some small part of him wanted to say yes. To put himself forward. I would choose you. Not for the man you are, but for the man you will be.

He tried to shake T’allin’s words from his mind. How could he gamble his people’s future on the promise of potential he might never reach? No. This had been his father’s path, not his. He would do anything for his people, give anything. But he wasn’t the person to lead them.

“I am honoured, S’aana of the Inari-da,” he said, eyes fixed to the floor. “But I must decline. I am not the right person for this.”

“Oh?” she said, eyebrows raised. “There would be much glory in leading your tribe—much honour. That is no small thing for a young man.”

“Not as much as I would lose by putting my own honour and glory before my people’s.”

“Ha!” S’aana whooped, and T’aakshi jerked back in surprise, eyes wide. The other Inari-da chuckled to themselves behind robed hands. “I see your father’s prideful boasting was not just vain bleating. You represent him well, boy.”

T’aakshi’s heart twisted painfully in his chest, but he did not have the opportunity to thank the woman for her words.

“Indeed, S’aana,” a man to her left spoke before he could, hand caressing a wispy silver beard. He, like her, wore flowing azure robes, and T’aakshi couldn’t help but glance at the gleaming ruby that occupied the space his left eye once had.

“But it is not wise, boy, to refuse before you know the entirety of what you sacrifice.”

T’aakshi frowned. He had expected nothing beyond a dismissal upon his refusal. Now, his mind raced to figure out what he could possibly be sacrificing by refusing them. Before he could ask, another of the Ia’dou, a woman dressed in white and barefoot just as the man who stood at the door was, entered through the same door as the Inari-da had.

In her hands, she carried a plump cushion of rich ruby fabric, trimmed with silver. The woman inclined her head to the Inari-da, and held the cushion towards S’aana. T’aakshi’s breath caught in his throat. Resting on top of the soft material was a crystal sphere glowing a faint blue. He would have recognised it anywhere.

“That came from my father’s spear.”

The words had escaped his mouth before he could stop them, but S’aana only nodded in confirmation. She reached out her hand, and plucked the sphere from its resting place, holding it out towards him. The woman with the cushion turned and disappeared back through the doorway.

“Do you know what this is, boy?”

He looked again at the jewel, its surface seeming to shift and flow as though it were liquid.

“My father never really talked about it. He said it helped him make decisions, but he never explained how.”

“It is called a tanae. They are used to preserve memory. Each chief of the twelve tribes has their own, which they fill with their memories and experiences. They store all the cumulative knowledge of their tribe in its tanae, which is then passed on to the next chief upon their passing.”

T’aakshi could barely breathe. “So in that sphere—”

“Is all the knowledge and experience your father wanted to pass on, yes. And all the memories he wanted to preserve for you.”