Reverend Mother Superior Tur’tk’nk’kaa, Anointed Abbess of the Pirr’kif’kif Enclave, Veritas Guardian of the 27th Path, Holy Protector of Truths Untold and Pristine Keeper of the Sacred Flame of Ch’uri felt her feathers fluff out again as the latest reading on the approach of the little-needs-protecting’s ship was reported. She breathed deeply, calming herself; was it not written in the sacred scrolls, forty second sutra of the third pa’un of Ch’uri the Benevolent, that to pluck the fruit of the nir’’’tchk bush before it was golden was to spoil the harvest? She would wait until it was time to enjoy the fruits of her labours. Even if she was sure all her feathers would fall out with stress doing it.
This had been a long road for the Karnakian species, for her blessing as a whole, and even for herself personally. [Atlanta]… the unfamiliar name should have sounded beautiful, now it tasted of ashes. But no, the twelfth sutra was quite clear, when the sun rises before you, your shadow is always behind you, and the brighter the sun the darker the shadow. Look to the light, not the darkness, as you step forwards. Know where you have trod, must you walk that path again. See you do not trip on the same roots, but do not *dwell* there.
“|Are all things made ready, Pri’nk’tun?|” she asked, when she was sure her voice would be steady.
“|Most High Priestess, they are.|” Pri’nk’tun’s voice was musical as she made the appropriate benedictions, spreading her arms wide as she placed her body against the marble floor of the temple grounds. Tur’tk’nk’kaa trilled in a motherly fashion as one would to nervous chicks, reaching out to smooth her acolyte’s feathers. Eighteenth sutra of the first pa’un; lead, they will follow.
“|Rise, Pri’nk’tun. I will not have you muss your feathers on a day such as this.|”
“|R-reverend mother?|” Pri’nk’tun was nervous. Her order called for a lot of well-sculpted motions to properly genuflect to not only each other, but to the universe as a whole.
“|Does not the twenty fifth sutra from our most benevolent founder’s first pa’un say that beauty within is to be striven for, but see that you preen daily?|” Tur’tk’nk’kaa chuckled, hooting and trilling as she pulled High Matron Pri’nk’tun from the ground. “|We should look presentable for our guest, and if I must straighten one more errant chick’s feathers I shall lose the last of my own. Look at me! I’m already half molted.|”
“|Most High Priestess, you are—|”
“|Shh, I know what I look like. Let us hope our guest does not mind too much, hmm? Is the Call sounded?|”
“|N-no, Most High—|”
“|Then go Pri’nk’tun, and… just for today at least, please call me by my *name*?|”
“|Most High Priestess! That would b-be improper! You ask me to break covenant!|”
“|Faithful Pri’nk’tun, are you so ill-learned of our founder that you have not learned his first lesson? And to think I had such high hopes for you,|” Tur’tk’nk’kaa chided mirthfully, laughing as she scolded the High Matron, “|for is it not written in the *first* sutra ‘hello, my name is Ch’uri’? Go, go, call our flock. The little-needs-protecting is on final approach.|”
The Call was ordinarily a scheduled affair, repeated several times a day for prayers, ablutions, meals, and so on. This Call was different. For one, it was not scheduled as such. It was, however, highly anticipated. Almost before Pri’nk’tun had made it all the way up the bell tower, ringing the Steps as she did so, the Brothers and Sisters of the 27th Path began to make their way out to the recently refurbished landing pad just outside of the temple grounds.
The joint monastery and convent — history books would spend a lot of time and effort translating such Karnakian words into [Terran] , Tur’tk’nk’kaa knew, given the little-needs-protectings’ propensity to segregate — was high in the mountains of Prk’Ch’uri’Tri’’Nrk Province, the main population centre of the otherwise mostly pristine and untouched world, Trk’Ch’uri’ta. It had been built after Karnakian settlers, looking for a good place to [set up camp], landed themselves high in the mountains so as to neither disturb nor be disturbed by the local flora and fauna, only to find the natural plateau already inhabited by Ch’uri, an otherwise unremarkable Karnakian male who had landed here some years earlier in search of some sort of revelation, or so the history books went.
After introducing himself, haltingly at first as he hadn’t spoken to another soul for many years, he stated that if he could not find peace and quiet even on empty planets then perhaps the Great Spirit had not intended for him to be alone. From that point, he wandered amongst the tired travel-weary Karnakians of the settler-ship ‘Dapples of Iridescent Light Playing on the Ocean Like Souls of the Sun’, keeping their spirits up and helping them where he could with acclimatizing to the planet. He was not trained in medicine, was no warrior of the hunt, was not even particularly educated, but his simple words belied a shrewd mind. Soon enough, his [off the cuff] sayings were being recorded for posterity and the settlers, such as they were, found themselves turning to him for advice in their daily travails.
A good number of Karnakians went down the mountain — as the 19th sutra of what became the 27th Path would say, “you must walk until you must stop, then sometimes walk again. One day you will nest” — to found the eventually Holy City of Prk’Ch’uri’Tri’’Nrk.
When the Holy Diarchy of the Karnakian Empire once again reconnected with their disparate kin, they found a thriving, peaceful world that the diarchy was well pleased to call the [jewel in the lotus]. This wasn’t what *they* called it, although it was close, but some of the little-needs-protectings had grown very interested when they heard about it.
Many years of negotiations and talks later and this was the result. A [human] Abbot coming to meet them, here, in karnakian space. After [Atlanta]. After everything.
As Pri’nk’tun’s voice rang out across the mountains, echoed by those members of the faithful that felt the need to join with her in the Call, the buzzing hum of the atmospheric re-entry craft’s gravitic engines added a bass undertone that was not entirely unpleasant. Tur’tk’nk’kaa heard the Call — almost congregatory speaking except for its far simpler message — modulate to accept the note and once more find harmony. She snorted to herself as she watched the craft land, her neck-ruffles poofing out somewhat indignantly. Usually supplicants would descend to the spaceport in the plains past the foot of the mountains, so that noise pollution from mundane things like traffic was kept to a minimum around the temple, but for this visitor, exceptions had been made and the original landing site had been [spruced up] a little. Beauty in all things, Tur’tk’nk’kaa mused, even noise pollution… though this was noise pollution she would gladly put up with. It didn’t stop a twinge of annoyance, however. She idly wondered if anybody would dare say anything if she were undignified enough to run down to the field…
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The landing craft was large for the amount of occupants. This was partly so that the ride down could be as smooth and controlled as possible. The elderly passenger and his aides were all little-needs-protectings, known to be frail at the best of times. In this case, one of them was over a hundred, in a species not known for living into triple digits to begin with.
An honor guard of six Karnakian Knight-Chaplains trooped out down the wide ramp, then took up station on either side. Tur’tk’nk’kaa tried not to fidget, but it was hard, so *very* hard. Finally, she saw movement. From deep in the craft, the lights of human souls grew visible, bright even against the sunlight. Moments later, into the bright morning, stepped the *most frail* little-needs-protecting Tur’tk’nk’kaa had ever seen. She had to fight every single nerve in her body not to rush immediately to the man’s side, pick him up and *never* let him down. He was so frail, she was sure that if the wind picked up he would break.
Sangharaja Chodak Jampa hobbled down the gangplank, his simple robes loose on his slim frame. He leaned on his staff — taller than he was — as he took each step carefully, one sandaled foot after the other. As he stumbled a moment when the gravity gradient of the ship was replaced by the natural field of the planet, two human acolytes rushed to his side, but he waved them off.
“[No, no, I have come this far. Humor an old man, young ones, I will make the step in my own time. After all, to neither advance nor retreat is to be a breathing corpse. I may have years on me, but I am not dead yet.]”
Tur’tk’nk’kaa was used to Karnakian souls, and had seen her fair share of Dorarizin and Jornissian soul-lights. Each was beautiful in their own way, patterns of light and colour unique to their own species and even the individual, but [human] souls were bright like glittering diamonds in a whirlwind. Maybe it was their ephemeral nature, maybe it was their untouched essence, so close to the womb of their own planet as they were, but these little lights entranced her like no others.
As he drew nearer, Tur’tk’nk’kaa let out an involutary gasp. The soul of Sangharaja Chodak Jampa himself was no mere twinkling fog, it was a *furnace*. It wasn’t so much that it was larger or brighter than others — though it was — but that the patterns it made danced and wove and pulsed as she had never seen before outside of the most devoted acolytes of the assorted Paths of the Holy Diarchy.
Tur’tk’nk’kaa fought hard to resist her own urge to run to the frail creature’s side as he stumbled again. Lifting an apparently helpless human had been known to not end well, after all. Still, it stung. She dared not advance, she dared not retreat. A walking corpse indeed. Humans were wise beyond their means, she realized ruefully.
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“[Supreme Patriarch, we of the twenty seventh Path of the thrice-blessed [Ch’uri] greet you.]” Tur’tk’nk’kaa bowed low, raising her tail off the ground to help keep her balance as she hovered her chest low. Behind her, she heard the congregation start to sing the Song of Greeting. The 27th path did not stand much on ceremonies, but they had communally decided that a traditional ballad of waking and welcome would not go amiss. It would be soothing and restrained enough to make pleasantries over, yet all would feel their contribution to welcoming their visitor was felt.
Her head was at knee-level to the human, which made it all the more awkward for her as she found herself unable to retreat when he moved himself closer. “[please let us know if our humble order may be of any assistance during your stay,]” Tur’tk’nk’kaa added softly, not daring to look up.
She almost squawked in shock when he knelt down to place a hand against her muzzle, lifting her upright. She strained to stay just below his gaze. Chodak smiled, eyes bright and soul brighter, as his gaze met hers. Then he gestured, one finger pulling her closer. She leaned in to hear his wise words.
“[Mayhap you could tell me, Reverend Mother Superior [Tur’tk’nk’kaa], Anointed Abbess of the [Pirr’kif’kif] Enclave, Holy Guardian of the 27th Path, Veritas Protector of Truths Untold and Pristine Keeper of the Sacred Flame of [Ch’uri], whether you know what is the sound of one hand clapping? I’ve asked a lot of people here and nobody seems to know.]”
Tur’tk’nk’kaa rocked back and forth on her feet. Her mouth opened and closed several times as she digested first the question itself, seemingly nonsense, and then the fact that the human had rendered her entire title flawlessly, albeit through translators.
As she looked back down — swiftly moving lower again until she was once more staring up — at the human to ask for clarification, he bent down again.
“[Would you like to know?]”
Tur’tk’nk’kaa blinked, at a loss for words. “|I-if you w-would enlighten me, your holiness…?|” She quivered, aware that she, alone, was about to be recipient of ancient little-needs-protecting wisdom.
She blinked again when a soft hand gently slapped at her muzzle. “|Wha-?|”
Sangharaja Chodak Jampa suddenly started laughing. He laughed so much he started wheezing. She lurched forwards, unable to help herself, but deliberately did not reach out to touch him. No, she let the man reach out to lean against her instead.
He pulled himself upright, then leaned closer to whisper conspiratorially near her ear. “Come, lead me into your beautiful temple. I am an old man, though I am doubtless younger than your youngest initiate. I will tell you another secret as we walk.”
Mystified, flummoxed, honored and thoroughly confused by the strange creature that held himself barely upright against her trembling limb yet threatened to blind her otherwise sightless pair of eyes, she did her best to move at precisely the speed her esteemed guest desired.
A few feet later, he leaned closer again, and indeed whispered, “I was practicing your name all the way from Earth. Don’t tell anyone.” He wheezed again in almost silent laughter as she fought back the urge to giggle with him. A trilling matriarch would not be the done thing, although she heartily wanted to.
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Tur’tk’nk’kaa was giddy as she showed the ecstatic human all there was within the temple grounds. He was so slow, and so frail, and yet she felt the power within him, the beatific benevolence that radiated from his eternal smile. He chatted openly with the acolytes and the masters equally, eager to see, hear and learn as he visited them all.
He was not loud, his speech was as measured as his steps. He frequently stopped to do the oddest of things, one of which included asking for *paintbrushes* of all things, along with buckets of water. He then spent close to an [hour] giving an impromptu lesson in [calligraphy], by drawing all over the marble flagstones in the courtyard. After a few minutes in the open air, his first few intricate figures had evaporated.
“Such is life,” he said, when it was brought up. He smiled patiently until she nodded, slowly, understanding.
How could somebody so… young, yet so old, have acquired so much *knowledge*? But no, he insisted, as he listened to the karnakians talk, he was learning from them at least as much as they were learning from him, if not more. After all, with all these karnakians to share their knowledge, and just him to speak to them, how could he not learn?
She countered with the obvious, that with so many karnakians to learn from him, how could *they* not learn the most. He laughed then, again, as he had before.
“I am glad, [Tur’tk’nk’kaa], that I was able to make this pilgrimage. To hear the wisdom of the peoples of the Holy Karnakian Diarchy, to know others seek the tao, it truly is the universe speaking the dharma to me. I am content.”
Tur’tk’nk’kaa tilted her head, listening, as they drank [tea]. “[You say many things I do not understand, Supreme… [Chodak],]” She bowed her head as she corrected herself. She had admonished her own acolyte for not following the first sutra of her founder’s Path, how could she not do the same?
“In our teachings, it is often through such koans that the tao reveals itself.”
“[But what is the tao?]”
“The tao is the way of all things. When we seek the tao, we seek the buddha nature within all things. It is the finger pointing at the moon.”
“[The finger?]”
The monk smiled, nodding. “Many people hear this saying, it is no secret, the knowledge is in the seeking. When I point at the moon, I can show you the moon. My finger is not the moon, yet it shows the way. My words are not the tao, but they can show you the way. They are not the tao, but they may lead you to it. Similarly, I have come to you, to have you show me *your* tao. They say you can see souls. Tell me of them, that I may be shown *your* way.”
Tur’tk’nk’kaa sighed, sitting back on her tail. “[Many times in history have we been asked this question. We are unable to show you. We cannot give you what you seek.]”
Chodak chuckled again. “I know, [Tur’tk’nk’kaa]. You are the finger, the sights you see are the moon. The moon I speak of is… hidden, where in our literature the point is that it is *right there* in the sky. Luna is so far away, it is not even a point of light in the heavens. Yet I can point to it. At least I hope I can.” They both chuckled at this. “[Tur’tk’nk’kaa], you are the finger. Point the way for me, that is all I ask.”
“[Perhaps… perhaps I can do as you ask. Come, are you aware of Karnakian congregational speaking?]”
Chodak nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “I have been told of it, though I confess the reality of it is beyond me.”
“[Then mayhap you would allow my congregation to demonstrate it for you?]” Tur’tk’nk’kaa watched, lost in his glittering melody, as he sat and thought. She saw excitement, joy, intrigue…all of these she saw in his soul. She could name them each, though they were subtly different to her own peoples’.
“I would be honoured, madame. You know,” he added, as he got up, once more leaning conspiratorially close to Tur’tk’nk’kaa, “this has already been a most enlightening trip for me. Perhaps I will make it last the rest of my life. Would you allow me to stay here?”
Tur’tk’nk’kaa’s feathers ruffled at the request. “[Supreme Patriarch, I… I-I am not sure I may. I have no objections, but—]”
“Ah, good, then it is settled. I shall stay here for the rest of my life. Do you know why I came here?”
“[No?]” Tur’tk’nk’kaa’s head was spinning again as the aged man changed topics at the speed of a hatchling.
“Because there are females here. Still many fuddy-duddies in my faith see celibacy as a guiding part of it. I come here to seek knowledge from those who would bring life forth from within as much as those who aid in its creation, as it were, albeit your good people lay eggs where mine do not. It upsets *them* as much as it pleases me to remind them to… I must digress. There is the story, you see, of the young lady wishing to cross a stream, and the two monks who come upon her. The elder monk does not hesitate, for he lifts the woman up, carries her across the stream, then places her down. It is only much later when the young monk asks, infuriated, why the older monk dared touch a woman.”
“[I confess, Supreme Patriarch, your people’s preoccupation with sex and gender is confusing.]”
“Indeed it is so, Most Reverend Mother, for it is a lesson we humans should have learned centuries ago, as even then in stories over a thousand years old, the older monk turned to the younger one and said, ‘I put her down hours ago, why do you still carry her?’. Do not worry, I will make sure my decisions do not reflect poorly on your most generous people. Come, show me this… congregational speaking.”
The night was drawing in as the great courtyard slowly filled with all the congregation of her flock. They arranged themselves roughly in a circle around the monk as he lowered himself to the floor to sit cross-legged in the middle of them.
Congregational speaking is unique to karnakians, though it is not entirely unique in being a group activity. The song was a simple one at first, with the Reverend Mother herself leading the chant. The trills and clicks and growls of the lone sentence soon being joined by one, two, three… an entire throng of birdsong. The words were soft and sibilant where they rang out on their own as individuals made their own benedictions amongst the masses, but they did not jostle for position, they did not fight for dominance. Other words were strong and powerful, as their wielders loosed them upon the night.
There can be no true translation of such a song, for by its very nature it is changed as it is heard and observed, but in the middle of it sat Chodak, smiling, as he calmed himself. He closed his eyes, and sought the tao in a zasen the likes of which he had never experienced.
Soon enough, Tur’tk’nk’kaa heard a new voice, in a new language, rise up and join her own flock’s ululations. It was the [human], chanting. His voice was not musical, it was not particularly beautiful or complex in itself, but it spoke of a truth that could only be carried by one such as he.
She opened her *other* eyes to watch, dazzled by the multitudinal sparks of light, as the congregation spoke together, seeking the name the Great Spirit.
“Aum mane padme hum, aum mane padme hum, aum mane pade hum…”
Tur’tk’nk’kaa watched, suddenly speechless, as the lights of the human’s soul expanded. They grew, swirling and dancing, as his inner self reached out. It happens, occasionally, that a congregation can *speak* as one. There is always unity in a truly open temple, at least when the congregation speaks with a single voice, but this… her own song fell away entirely as the brief, beautiful stars of the humans soul turned to novae and galaxies, burning bright as the moons of Tr’xlax’s in colours she could barely comprehend. Chodak the little-needs-protecting communed with… with the *Karnakian* tao. That was all it could be, she reckoned, for what else could it mean?
As her voice fell away, so too did many more, one by one, though their soul storms burned just as brightly as before. They felt the presence of this stranger from beyond the stars reaching out to them through the night, and inexplicably joined with it. More and more voices grew hushed, respectful, their own songs morping to an echo of Terran words their translators refused to make sense of as the maelstrom brightened again, like the sun.
It flared golden, warm, enveloping. The song, slowly and inevitably, began anew, joining with the leading voice of the ancient [Human]; a new pattern, a new voice, a new *name*. The waves of soul-light swelled and flowed, almost palpable as they lapped across the ocean of the little-needs-protecting beneath them.
Tur’tk’nk’kaa had always believed that there was *something* to the philosophy behind congregational speaking, but now she *Believed*, and with tears in her eyes she realized that bringing forth God would be ever more beautiful than she could have known, and ever so much more difficult.
As a single soul, the song of a multitude rose and expanded and glowed and shone and… and one by one, the voices dropped, as eventually even Tur’tk’nk’kaa realized there was a silence where there had, just moments ago, been breath and life and sound.
The chant faded at once, like a thunderclap of silence. Tur’tk’nk’kaa sat, rocking, at the sudden absence. It was a long few seconds before she scrambled to her feet and pushed her way through the crowd to fall before the human who sat, motionless, in the centre of the courtyard, begging him to *breathe* as tears rolled down her face. Instead, the glorious supernova of his soul burned brighter still, like a galaxy, and then… dissipated.
He was still, sat peacefully with a smile on his face, the last of his breath having drifted skywards with the lights of his inner being.
It was then that she understood his words, as she called for calm amid the murmuring congregation, bidding them rise, leaving a space around the Supreme Patriarch Chodak Jampa’s body, that it may remain unsullied in its last repose.
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