She squatted in the mud along the banks of the river. The summer had been hot and dry, but it was cool in the pre-dawn greyness by the river. The river was lower than normal for this time of year leaving more than usual of the lifeless grey mud exposed. The dense canopy above and around her blocked the wind and the sun even at mid-day and kept the mud from hardening except in the deepest droughts. This drought was less than thirty days old leaving many in the nearby town of Mer’la’nt concerned but not yet worried.
She paid no attention to the weather. Hot or cold, dry or wet, still or windy mattered little to her. She still had to find food to survive. Luckily she had scavenged a few roots from the tall reeds growing in the marsh just up river. Most people, even most squilchers, would not eat these roots unless they were near starvation. The roots were gritty from the mud, extremely bitter and prone to worms. But she liked them, worms and all. She savored the strong taste, grainy texture, and even the squish of the worms.
She squatted now with a bundle of grass that she used to clean the roots. Then she laid them on the wide cinka leaves to dry.
She hummed softly to herself as she worked and waited for the roots to dry. To a casual passerby she might have appeared carefree as she cleaned her roots and hummed, but there were no casual passersby around this part of the river. The only people who came here were squilchers and bu'dra.
Squilchers were dangerous - made so by a lifetime of near starvation and constant threat from beasts, townsfolk and bu'dra. She was a squilcher, though that did not keep her safe from other squilchers. She knew how to deal with them. In fact, she had always been good at dealing with them even as a young child. Now she was one of the oldest squilchers that anyone knew.
Not that she was particularly old. Neither she, nor anyone else, could say exactly how old she was. Squilchers had no parents and did not mark birthdays - or even years. For squilchers the only day that mattered was today. Yesterday could not help. Tomorrow was not promised. Only today mattered. If the squilchers had a motto, that would be it. If they had elders or teachers, that's what they would have taught. But they had no time for philosophy, they had no teachers but experience, and they had no elders.
She was one of the oldest, but she was not old. Her body had only recently completed the change from child to woman. If a townsperson saw her washing her roots in the mud flats along the lower river and they were able to recover sufficiently from their shock and outrage over her nakedness (for squilchers wore no clothing), they would have guessed her to be around fifteen years old.
Now if a bu'dra - one of the dirty ones - saw her along the river, then....well, she did not think about such things. Here. Now. This moment. That is what matters. The last moment cannot help. The next moment is not promised. Only now matters.
And now she could hear them coming.
There were two - no, three. They were getting better, quieter. She continued to hum her tune. It was a tune born of her own imagination, inspired by the sounds she knew so well. Wind moving through the trees and the grass, birds whistling gently, insects chirping the high notes and beneath it all the steady, deep rolling of the river.
She had discovered long ago that she could pitch the song in such a way that allowed her to hear all that was going on around her while appearing not to listen at all. She was wary and hard to sneak up on, but they were getting better.
She waited...they moved carefully, slowly, quietly. Stalking her. She waited until they were only three paces away to her right and just a little behind her.
"You are louder than a drunk townsman on Summer's Eve. I don't see how you've lived this long."
"Aw, su'drae," the leader of the trio chided back, "we almost had you that time."
She turned and raised an eyebrow at the two boys and one girl emerging from the grass. They were much younger than she, maybe five to seven years old.
"Pah," she scolded, "I heard you from thirty paces." They looked abashed. "Come now. Shame will not keep you alive. You are getting better, but if you tried to stalk a panther or a bu'dra like that, you'd be dead or sold or worse."
"We're not stupid," they oldest, a boy retorted. "We don't go anywhere near the bu'dra or the cats."
"Just the noisy townsmen when they go on picnics," said the girl.
"And you, su'drae," said the other boy.
They called her su'drae. It was not her name. She did not have a name. Su'drae means "kind one." She often gave them roots or frogs or berries she had scavenged just as she often helped other little ones among the squilchers. It was unusual for a squilcher to give anything to anyone, yet she gave each of them one of her roots. They grinned and darted silently away disappearing into the tall grass.
Su'drae - kind one - she did not like being called that. The squilchers and the bu'dra shared a saying, "Kindness kills the kind."
* * *
Mel'sa sprang upright in her bed gasping for breath, her heart pounding with adrenaline. Her eyes tried to tell her that she was safe in her bedroom, that it was just after dawn on a hot summer day, but her mind refused to leave the dark alley near the docks. You will go. You will help her. The words rang in her mind. Not loudly, not cruelly, but insistent and filled with terrible authority.
She sat for a moment in her bed, replaying the dream, hearing the words, absorbing the weight behind them. He eyes widened in thrilled understanding.
"I must tell Father!" she gasped as she swung out of bed and tore down the stairs. "I must tell Father!"
She burst into the kitchen and saw only her mother.
"Where's Father?" she demanded.
"Mel'sa, what are you doing up so early?" her mother replied
She ignored the question. She had to tell her father. "Where's Father?" she asked forcefully.
Her mother's eyebrows narrowed. "He is where he is every morning at this time: in the sunroom, drinking his tea and meditating. What is this-"
But before she could finish the question, Mel'sa was gone.
She ran to the sunroom and jerked the door open. Her father was at the study table leaning over the Holy Word, a cup of tea beside him.
"Father, I-"
"Mel'sa tern Frenshend, what is this?" her father demanded. "You know better than to interrupt my time with Mother & Father God! Unless the house is burning down, whatever you have to tell me can wait until I'm finished. Now-"
"Father, I think Mother God is speaking to me. I think She wants me to do something - something important. There is someone I need to help."
Her father paused, mouth open for a moment. He closed his mouth, smiled gently and said, "Sit down and tell me about it. What do you think Mother God is telling you?"
Mel'sa sat in the chair her father had gestured toward as he turned his chair to face her. She studied him for a moment. He was looking at her kindly, the anger at having been interrupted in his meditation was gone, but she suddenly found it hard to speak.
"It is okay, sweetie, you can tell me," her father encouraged her. When she still did not speak, he said, "Here, have a sip of tea."
He handed her his cup and saucer. It rattled a bit as she took it. Her hands were still shaking as the excitement continued to course through her. She sipped the tea. It was still hot. The burning in her mouth and throat calmed her a bit. She was able to focus and find her voice.
"I had a dream," she began. "Actually, it was several dreams, or rather, one dream several times. It started three nights ago. Each time in my dream, I feel a strong desire to go, to leave the house and walk toward the shops, and so I do. I walk down to the shops, but when I get to the shopping district I feel the need to keep going. I go to Straight Street and walk down it until I get to the temple, then I turn right on River Way.
"In the dream I don't know where I am going, but I know I am going the right way. I walk past the Council Building and the Mayor's Offices. I turn left at the next street, then right into an alley with no name. I balk a little here remembering your instructions to never go down streets or alleys with no names because they always lead to places that are no good. But I go anyway. The alley is long and narrow. I pass several crossing alleys before more turns.
She pauses and eyebrows scrunch together as she tries to remember, but the details of the route won’t come to her. She continues at the next point she remembers.
“Now I am walking quickly. The smell of the river is growing stronger. I arrive at a part of the city I have never seen.
“The buildings are tall and narrow. I hear music and shouting and singing. People are wandering about - men and women. They turn to watch me, but I ignore them and keep walking, still not knowing where I am going, but at each turn confident that I am going in the right direction. I come to another a larger street. This one has a sign, 'Man's Delights.’
“I walk down it. It is very crowded. People both men and women touch me and grab me and make rude comments at me as I go by, but they cannot hold me. I am frightened but feel that I must go on. I pass a building on the left that has a sign with a red cat-woman on it. She is sitting with her legs splayed out in an indecent way. A few buildings down on the right I see a sign with a blue dog-man with fierce, orange eyes.
“I come to a tiny dirty alley. It's dark and barely two people wide. The smell is horrible. I walk down it and make one...or two more turns. I can’t remember for a certainty. But I come to an old wooden door. There is light coming from the gap at the bottom and through cracks in the door itself. On the wall above the door someone has painted a triangle with a line through it.
“From inside I hear men - lots of men - yelling, laughing, singing and cursing loudly. I feel I must enter, but I am afraid. In my heart I hear the words, ‘You will go. You will help her.’ I reach for the door handle, then I wake up.”
While she was speaking, Mel'sa had not looked at her father. She had stared at the teacup in her hands, feeling awkward and embarrassed. Now she felt only confidence. She lifted her head and looked her father in the eyes.
He had a puzzled, concerned expression. His mouth hung open again. He closed it and glanced up and past Mel'sa. She turned to see her mother standing in the doorway behind her. Her expression was alarmed, even angry. Her mother started to speak, but her father raised his hand slightly and spoke instead.
"Mel'sa," he began gently and thoughtfully, "why do you believe that these dreams mean that Mother God is speaking to you?"
Now it was Mel'sa's turn to be puzzled. Wasn't it obvious? She said, "The Holy Word has many stories of Mother and Father God speaking to men and women and even children through their dreams. You, Father, have preached in sermons and taught in school, that They do speak to us in our dreams."
"Yes," her father replied, pleased that she had indeed been listening to his sermons and lessons. "Yes, Mother and Father do speak to people through dreams, but not every dream is a message from Them. Some dreams are just dreams. Some dreams are even from the Bu'drae. So it is important, vitally important, to discern from where a dream comes. Why do you think this dream is from Mother God?"
It was Mel'sa's turn to open her mouth, pause, then close it again. Her eyebrows narrowed as she thought. Why did she believe these dreams were from Mother? At length her face relaxed and she looked her father in the eyes confidently. "I do not know," she said evenly. "I cannot explain it. I just feel, deep down in the center of my being, that this is from Our Mother."
"Ah, Mel'sa," her father replied, "feelings are the least trustworthy, the least dependable, dimension of the human persona. We behave foolishly, even dangerously, when we make decisions and take action based on feelings alone. We must apply all of the faculties Our Mother and Father have given us to faithfully and accurately discern such matters as this."
"But, Father," Mel'sa questioned, "What about Boorjahni and Hexlathae and Dolccina? The Holy Word says that they all had dreams and that they knew their dreams were from Mother and Father God. How did they know?"
"That is an excellent question. The truth is, I don't know how they knew. The Holy Word does not tell us," Father stated now fully and energetically caught up in the theology and anthropology of the matter. "But we have something they did not have. We have the Holy Word itself. The Holy Word tells us about Mother God and Father God; it tells us about human beings. It tells us about how Our Mother and Father relate to us and how we relate to Them. The Holy Word is our guide - our pattern, if you will - of how They communicate with us and of what They tell us to do. So what we must do is take this dream-"
"Dreams."
"-dreams, then. We must take these dreams to the Holy Word and see if this is the sort of thing that Mother and Father God have said and done with humans before."
Mel'sa considered this for a moment. Like her father, she loved these sorts of discussions and intellectual challenges. "Well then, the Holy Word tells us that They have communicated with Their people through dreams, so that answers the question of whether this is how They communicate with people."
"Yes," prompted her father, "Now what about the 'what'?"
"Each time at the end of the end of the dreams I am told that I will go and that I will help her. That sounds very much like what Mother and Father told people in the Holy Word. They have told us plainly that we are to help others in their need. They have also told us plainly that we are to leave what is comfortable and familiar to give that help. You and the high priest and the other priests and even our Word teachers all tell us this. It's one of the earliest lessons we learn. That confirms that these dreams are from God. My dreams fit the pattern of how God speaks and what God says."
"Very well-reasoned, Mel'sa," her father said proudly. "And if we look only at the surface of your dream, I would agree with you, but we must look deeper."
"But, Father," Mel'sa protested, "What is there to these dreams that is deeper? What more do we need to look at. Our Mother is telling me that I will go and that will help her!"
"Go where, exactly?"
"To the door with the triangle and line!" she said confidently.
"And where exactly is that door?"
"It's past the temple and the mayor's offices. You just go down River Way and then turn left, then..." Mel'sa trailed off. When she was fresh from her dream she could see it, but now...
"You cannot remember the details, can you?" her father ask gently.
She shook her head abashed.
"Mel'sa, if this alley and this building and this door even exist - which I doubt very much that they do - why would Mother or Father God tell you to go there and not help you remember the way."
Mel'sa's eyes began to well up. She could not answer her father.
"This is what I mean by looking deeper. If Mother or Father wants you to do something, They will make it clear, and They will make it within your capacity."
Mel'sa's face grew hot, and her right hand began to shake like it always did when she was angry or ashamed. Her father could see what his words were doing to her. He knew that what he was about to say would pain her, but as the Holy Word says, A little pain now will save your child a lot of pain later.
"Mel'sa, even if you had clarity on exactly where to go, you have no capacity - none whatsoever - to help anyone in that part of the city. The streets and alleys in that part of town are rife with the bu'dra. They are foul, evil and very, very dangerous. If you were to venture into that area you would be snatched up within minutes. You would be killed or worse. Do you hear, me Mel'sa? Do you understand? You can be of no help to anyone in those streets or alleys. If you went there - and you must NOT go there, you must NOT go seeking after these...these dream places - if you do you will help no one and you will be destroyed."
At last a lone tear escaped Mel'sa's eye and ran down her cheek. She brushed it away fiercely.
"So you must see, Mel'sa, that these dreams are not from Mother or Father God. The Holy Word says that it is Mother and Father’s will that none should be destroyed. It says that They plan to bless you and fill your life with good things. It says that They plan to give you peace and prosperity and a full life. They would never send you to such a place as that.
Mel'sa stood abruptly and ran back to her room. She threw herself onto her bed and cried her anger and shame out into her pillow. She had wanted so badly to hear from Mother God. She had wanted so desperately to be used by Her or Father God for something important, something that only she could do. She had felt so good, so empowered in the thought that They had spoken to her and chosen her like They had done Hexlathae and Dolccina. But she had only been foolish, childish and shallow.
Back in the sun room, Mel'sa's mother Frenshend closed the door behind her daughter and turned angrily to her husband.
"Scrandrae, what have you been showing her?!" she demanded. "Where have you been taking her?!"
"Frenshend, my love-" Scrandrae tried to protest, but his wife bowled him over.
"It was not me, I can tell you that. I guard her and protect her just as I do the other children. It must have been you! You let her wander and roam, when you should be watching her. You take her on visits. You have exposed her to things she should never be exposed to much less at her age. How could-"
"Frenshend!" he was more forceful now. "I assure you that I have taken her nowhere, showed her nothing and allowed her to wander nowhere where she would have seen-"
"The 'red cat-woman' with splayed legs!’" she hissed vehemently barely able to keep her voice low so the children would not here her. "The 'blue dog-man'! The...the..." Frenshend struggled for the appropriate words, "The "Triangle and Rod" sign!!!" she opted for the euphemistic term for the symbol rather than the vulgar and far more descriptive appellation. "I assure you that she has never seen or heard about such things while under my care!"
"Nor under mine!" her husband stated definitively. "She has not seen them."
"Then how could she describe them?"
"Don't you see, Love, she described them so innocently, so matter-of-factly. She has never been adept at hiding her emotions. Had she seen those signs where they are or even heard someone describing them - had she any inkling of what they mean, she would have blushed and stammered just thinking of them, and she certainly could not have described them to us without trembling and stuttering. She cannot have seen them."
"Then how could she describe them?" Frenshend asked, calmed a little by her husband’s reassurances.
"The dreams-"
"The dreams?" she interrupted. "Surely you don't believe those dreams are really from Mother God?"
"Of course not," Scrandrae said with fear showing on his face. “I cannot imagine why Mother or Father would ever call her - or any decent person to go to the bu'dra section at all, and certainly not to those places. No, I don't think those dreams were from Mother or Father God."
"But they cannot have been just dreams."
"No, they cannot."
"Then what - where did they come from?" Frenshend asked already knowing what her husband would say, understanding the fear she saw in his eyes.
"The Bu'drae. I fear they come from the Bu'drae," he said hollowly.
"But why?"
"I do not know for sure, but he clearly intends to lure her to his people. Why her, I do not know."
"Should we tell her?" Frenshend asked.
"No, I do not think so. Thirteen years is too young for such knowledge. It would only frighten her." he answered confidently. "But we must pray."
"Yes, we must pray that Mother and Father will protect our daughter!"
* * *
The girl the squilchers call su'drae crept through the tall grass making no more sound than a fishing worm. She did not want the townspeople just ahead to hear or see her, and they wouldn't. She was too quiet, too cunning, and they were hopelessly loud with their talking and singing and tromping along the trails. She had heard thunderstorms quieter than this lot. She rarely came near the grassy place, even more rarely in daylight and almost never when townspeople were about.
Townspeople were dangerous, but she was hungry. Very hungry. In the weeks that had passed since she shared the roots with the little ones, it still had not rained, and it had grown very hot. The river was almost dry. The mud was baked hard. Even the marsh was dry, drier than she had ever seen it. The frogs had died or left. The roots, the precious few that she had found the last few days, were shriveled, hard and too bitter even for her tastes.
She had not been able to find food in the wild for days, but townspeople that lingered in the grassy place always had food.
Despite her hunger, she remained wary. If this were a group of bu’dra, she could be walking into a trap. The bu'dra did that sometimes - had parties and brought food into the glade to lure in hungry squilchers to capture them. Squilchers captured by bu’dra were never seen again.
She did not think it was bu’dra, though. It was probably a group of townspeople visiting the grassy place for an adventure. She hoped so. Such groups brought baskets full of food, and they were too timid and dainty to chase a squilcher even if they saw one.
She was close enough now that she could smell them. They reeked of perfumes and soaps. She let out a small, silent sigh of relief. These were definitely not bu'dra. Bu'dra stunk of sweat, excrement and drink.
At that moment the talking stopped and the townspeople began to sing. She grimaced in anger and frustration. It was a group of the tendak'ra - the singing ones.
* * *
Mel'sa's face shone with purpose and happiness as she helped unpack the baskets of food in the meadow. This was her first time on a serving party with the Keepers. Mother had objected. She thought it was too dangerous, but Father had insisted that Mel'sa needed to be of meaningful service and what could be more meaningful than giving food to the poor squilchers.
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The serving party was about so much more than food, though. The Keepers of the Word prayed and worshiped for an hour over the food before leaving the temple this morning. They asked Mother God to anoint the food so that it would bless the squilchers with strength and peace. They asked Father God to protect them as they journeyed to and from the meadow to deliver the food. Most importantly they asked to Mother and Father to use the food and the prayers and songs of the Keepers to draw the squilchers out of their dark lives of sneaking and thieving and into the light and life of the Temple.
Father told her and her mother that Mel'sa's dreams must have been at least partly born of a deep desire to serve others in a meaningful way. He said that going on the serving party would be an excellent way for Mel'sa to help some of the neediest people in the world. He speculated that after Mel'sa went on the serving party, the dreams would stop.
Mel'sa wasn't so sure about this part of Father's plan. Since she first told he parents about the dreams, they had prayed for her every night before she went to sleep, and they anointed her with the holy oil and marked her head, heart and hands with ashes. But the dream still came. It was always exactly the same.
Now she knew the way to the door with the strange symbol. She could recite all the streets, alleys and turns easily. She could walk there if she wanted - in spite of her father's skepticism, she believed it was a real place. In fact, she could probably walk there with her eyes closed. The dream always ended with the same words: You will go. You will help her.
She knew that going on the serving party was a good thing, but this did not feel like what the dream was calling her to. She believed that the dream would continue. Although she did not believe any of this would stop her dreams, she still wanted to come.
She kept peering into the forest as she worked beside her father unpacking the food and laying it on the rough linen cloths.
"Do you think we'll see them?" she asked eagerly.
"The squilchers? No, I doubt it," he replied. "We almost never do."
"Really," she frowned her disappointment, "why not?"
"The squilchers are little more than animals, dear. They can move as quietly as a fox through the forest. They are wary of townspeople and rarely show themselves."
"Are they afraid of us?"
"Certainly. The bu’dra have given them good reason to be afraid of townspeople."
"But we're not bu’dra. We're not here to capture or harm them. We're here to help them."
"Yes, but I doubt that they can tell the difference between us and the bu’dra. As I said, they are little more than animals. We're not here to hunt, are we? We have no bows, but have you seen a fox or a stag?"
Mel'sa shook her head.
"That's because the animals have learned to survive by staying clear of all people. The squilchers have learned the same.
"If they are that fearful of us, how can we be sure they will come at all?" Mel'sa asked.
"They will come," said Father confidently. "The drought has been long and hard. Their food must be scarce. They will be hungry, so they will come."
"How do they even know we are here?"
Father frowned. "Some of the more cynical among us believe that they just smell the food and that the food draws them like buzzards to a carcass. But I believe that our songs and prayers are what draw them. Except for our Tendak'ra they never hear such things. I believe that our songs and prayers touch that part of them that all people share no matter how animalistic - that part of us that longs for Our Mother and Father."
"Why do we leave the linens with the food?"
"Most of the squilchers wear no clothes."
"Why? I can't imagine being out here with all the prickly plants and stinging bugs without wanting to be covered as much as possible."
"It is part of their animalism. The Bu’drae has taught them to live and think like animals. But it is more than that, I think. The Bu’drae has also taught them to be indecent. He has corrupted their character as well as their bodies. So we leave the linens - which were prayed over constantly as they were made - in the hope that the squilchers will use them as clothing."
"Do they?"
"Apparently not. At least none of us has seen them covered with a linen. But they always take them. Which is an improvement. We used At last the food was all unpacked and laid out neatly on linen cloths.
The Prayer Master cleared his throat and called the group to order. They formed a circle around the food and joined hands. Most were facing inward, but every third person faced outward. These were the temple guards - the only ones who wore swords. They faced outwards to protect the Tendak'ra from aggressive squilchers or bu’dra that may be in the area.
The Prayer Master prayed a lengthy prayer of blessing upon the food, of safety for the Tendak'ra, and forgiveness and redemption for the squilchers. When he finished, the Song Master blew a soft note on her pipe and began to sing. The song was one of Mel'sa's favorites. Soon the whole group - even the guards were singing enthusiastically.
* * *
The girl crouched lower in the grass as the townspeople sang. Her grimace turned to a scowl, which turned to a snarl as she waited. Tendak'ra! She cursed silently. She normally avoided this cruel joke the townspeople played on the squilchers. She would have left now, but she was so hungry.
As the singing grew, so did her anger...and her fear. The music itself was unpleasant. It disturbed the beauty of the forest sounds - the humming of the insects, the chirping of the birds, the soft click and snorts of the animals, the quiet, almost inaudible sounds the creatures made as they padded among the trees. All these fell silent - cut off by the wretched singing. She did not understand most of the words, and she didn't care, too.
I must leave or calm myself, she thought. Leaving would be safest. I should leave before it is too late. But I am so hungry, and there is no food to be found. At least there will be food here.
Yes, there would be food, but the other squilchers heard the singing, too. They were hungry, too. And desperate. Many would come. Soon the grasses and the trees around her would be filled with starving, desperate squilchers, lured by the music and the promise of food.
She could wait. She could wait until the others had taken what they wanted and left. They would not leave much behind, but they would leave some. But if she waited too long...the bu’dra. They had ears, too. They would come, too, but not for the food.
Over the singing she heard the faint rustle of grass to one side, then the other. She cursed silently. In the best of times when forest food was plentiful, the tendak'ra made squilchers lazy. Instead of hunting frogs or digging berries, they would come for the piles left behind by the cruel townspeople. They didn't even try to be silent as they came, the relied on the singing to cover their footfalls. The tendak'ra would not hear them or see them, they sang too loudly to hear their own footsteps much less the squilchers. But the bu’dra were not so stupid. They would stay silent.
I should leave. The music paused, and she heard the subtle signs of movement all around her as dozens of squilchers inched toward the glad. She cursed silently and turned to escape.
Calm yourself, she commanded. Anger makes you stupid. Dead by starvation, dead by bu’dra, dead by squilchers. It's all the same. You must have food. Calm yourself and find a way.
As she slowed her breathing, her heart slowed, too, and her mind quickened. What are the dangers? First danger: squilchers in the grassy place. They are starving and desperate. They'll fight for as much food as they can get. Some will have rocks, some sharpened sticks. They'll injure or kill to get the food they need.
Second danger: bu’dra in the grass place and forest. They'll let the squilcher fight then capture them as they race back to the forest.
Where is the safety? Near the tendak'ra. For all their cruel stupidity, she had never seen them attack a squilcher directly. They had guards with swords, so the bu’dra would not go near them.
She had her plan. She would run in quickly - as soon as the Tendak'ra were a few paces beyond the glade. One of their rear guard might see her, but they were the least of the threats. She would grab a small sack of food and follow the Tendak'ra out. The squilchers and the bu’dra would both avoid that direction.
She breathed deeply again, then began inching her way toward the path that the Tendak'ra would follow out of the glade. Meanwhile the Tendak'ra began another song.
* * *
Mel'sa had to keep reminding herself to open her eyes. In the temple services she almost always closed her eyes while she sang. Closing her eyes helped her shut out distractions and worries of the world around her. It helped her focus on Mother and Father God and connect with them. She felt so peaceful this morning. She kept getting lost in worship, which is normally a good thing. But today she wanted to keep her eyes open to catch a glimpse of the squilchers.
She scanned the edges of the glade for any sign of them - eyes peering through the weeds, a tuft of hair poking up a little too high, even grass moving in a way that suggested someone was moving it. Once she thought she caught a glimpse of pale, dirty skin, but she could not be sure.
They finished their third song and began a fourth. Father told her that they would sing four songs today instead of their usual three. Since the drought was so deep and food was so scarce they would sing louder and longer than usual to make sure that as many squilchers as possible knew they were there.
* * *
Calm yourself. Fear makes you stupid. Fear makes you careless. Calm yourself. The girl battled her growing fear. Why did they sing four songs? Three is bad enough. But four! This will give the bu’dra more than enough time to get here. Squilchers will die today. I do not want to be one of them.
She would have left the glade and the food behind, but it was too late. She had stayed too long. She would surely encounter bu’dra if she tried to leave now. And she was so very hungry. She inched even closer to the edge of the clearing. She would waste no time. As soon as the Tendak'ra left she would grab some food and run after them, trusting that their guards would keep the bu’dra away.
She glanced around and saw squilchers to her left and her right. She heard them behind her. So many. So close together. Surely the bu’dra were here, too. She saw the realization and fear in the eyes of the other squilchers too. They knew they had walked into a trap. One of the squilchers she saw carried a fist-sized rock in his hands, another carried a sharpened stick as long has his leg and as big around as his arm. Fear would make them careless and stupid and violent.
Please, stop singing soon, she silently pleaded with the Tendak'ra. Please.
* * *
After they finished their fourth song, the Master of Prayer prayed a final blessing upon the food and the squilchers who would receive it. At last he finished with the traditional, "So be it!" The serving party cheered and clapped, and Mel'sa cheered and clapped with them. She turned to her father and hugged him tightly.
"Thank you for letting me come," she said.
"You are welcome." He hugged her back. "It feels good, doesn't it? Serving the poor squilchers."
"Yes, it does," she beamed.
The party was beginning to leave the glade. The guards divided themselves into two groups. The first group led the way along the path back to town. The second waited to bring up the rear. Mel'sa and her father mingled in with the party somewhere in the middle.
As they were stepping back onto the path, Mel'sa's father said contentedly, "I believe that the serving party blesses us even more than it blesses them."
Mel'sa breathed deeply and smiled back at him. "I believe you, Father. I know that it has blessed me."
* * *
The girl waited until the last of the guards disappeared into the forest. She took two long, deep breaths to calm herself, then she bolted from her cover and raced toward the food piles nearest the trail taken by the Tendak'ra.
She had positioned herself so that she could run full speed, grab a bag of food and sprint toward the path while barely having to change her direction. She wanted nothing to slow her down. She knew that latecomers to the food would have to fight and she wanted to follow the Tendak'ra before the bu’dra closed the gap between them.
She saw with grim delight that she was the first squilcher into the glade. But before she had taken three steps, dozens more burst from the grass.
As she ran she scanned the food pile for something good to grab. Much of the food was loose. None of that would do. She could not take time to gather it up, and loose food would be hard to run with. No, she needed something already in a sack small enough that she could run with. There! Just near the edge.
As she ran she was aware that other squilchers were already at the food. Some were kneeling to gather arms full. Some grabbed only an item or two before turning to run back. In one or two places fights had already broken out and more than one squilcher was lying on the ground.
All this happened in near silence, for silence was always a squilcher's first and greatest ally. Even as they fought there were no shouts of anger or screams of pain. Only the occasional muted grunt as one of them was kicked, hit or stabbed.
She barely slowed as she reached down to snag the sack as she ran by. It was perfect, not too heavy. Now she fixed her eyes on the path the Tendak'ra had taken and ran toward it. She scanned the area for people.
She was looking for bu’dra, so she was surprised when a tall, thin squilcher jumped out of the grass and cut her off from the path. His strategy apparently had been to let another squilcher do the risky work of running to the food and then to steal that food as the squilcher ran back to the forest. It was a good plan. He was taller than she, he was not winded from running, and he had a rock half the size of her head in his hand.
She pulled up abruptly, and he lunged, swinging the rock at her head. She dropped the sack and ducked under his swing. He missed but just barely. The momentum of his swing took him off balance. Before he could recover, she stood and kneed him hard in the crotch. He dropped to the ground.
She turned to recover her sack, but the contents had spilled. She knelt to reload it, paying no attention to what she had taken, thinking only, hurry, too much time, hurry, hurry, hurry.
In truth, she had not taken much time at all, but it was still too much. As she turned toward the path again she saw it twitch into place - a thin trip cord, just above ankle height stretched tight across the path. The bu’dra are here.
She stopped again and scanned the ring of grass and trees around the glade. Where do I go? Where do I go? Her mind and her heart raced. Simply charging into the forest was too risky. The bu’dra could be hiding anywhere. She could stay in the clearing until the bu’dra showed themselves. There were likely more squilchers than bu’dra. She could try to escape as they were occupied with capturing other squilchers. But she was close to the edge and separated from the group. They were almost certainly focused on her already.
Calm yourself. Fear makes you stupid. She scanned and saw it! A tall tree with low branches just on the edge of the forest, and, Yes!, it was covered with the green leafy vines. The nasty stuff was drought proof. She raced toward the tree. As she ran she twisted the top of the sack and gripped it in her teeth leaving both hands free to climb.
Just as she reached the vine covered tree, bu’dra emerged from their hiding places. Armed with clubs, bolas and nets. They were nearly as quiet as the squilchers themselves. They did not want draw the armed Tendak'ra back the clearing.
She didn’t pause to watch. As she expected there were no bu’dra near the tree. She jumped, grabbed a low branch and hauled herself up. She climbed and kept climbing the vine covered branches.
From her perch high in the tree she was well-concealed but she could still see much of ground below.
The bu’dra were quick and efficient. They knew their trade well. They were not confused or distracted by the mass of running squilchers. They operated in teams of two. Each team focused on a particular squilcher until he or she was disabled then they turned to another.
It did not take the squilchers long to realize they were under attack. And in seconds the grassy place was clear of everyone except eight bu’dra and nine squilchers. The girl watched as the seven of the bu’dra tied gagged and tethered the six squilchers they had captured. The eighth bu’dra was staring up at the girl's tree.
"Keen," one of the bu’dra growled, "stop yer dreamin' an’ help with these 'uns. I wanna git out here quick 'case them nut jobs come back."
The one at the bottom of the tree didn't respond.
"Keen!"
"Yeh, yeh, stop yer fussin'. You got 'em tied. What's there to do?" Keen said at last.
"Git rope on the legs o' those 'uns." the first bu’dra ordered.
"Those 'uns? Ther dead. Jus' leave 'em," Keen said still staring up the tree.
"Leave 'em? Are ya so rich y'll throw coin away?" said the other.
"Ther dead. Why would anyun pay good coin fer a dead squilcher?" Keen asked finally turning to look at the others.
"Ther's a drought on, or hadn ya noticed?" the first bu’dra grinned wickedly. "People er hungry."
Another of the bu’dra interjected coarsely, "An' not all of 'ems hungry fer food, neither. I knows a rich fella who'll pay a tidy bag for a pretty dead thing."
At this they all laughed. But Keen still didn't move. He turned back to stare up the tree again.
"What are ya lookin' fer, Keen, a bird's nest?" The first one asked again.
"Naw, I saw one of 'um run up this tree, and she was a pretty 'un," Keen answered.
"Aw, Keen, I didn' know you was inta the little 'uns," one of bu’dra jeered and the others laughed.
"This 'un ain't a little 'un. Naw, she's grow'd an' she's right pretty," Keen said menacingly. "She'd fetch a right big bag. 'N I could have me some fun with ‘er 'fore I sold ‘er, too."
"So go up 'n git 'er, ya knucklehead," said a bu’dra, "or are ya scared o' 'er?"
"I'm scared, all right," Keen said, "but not o' 'er. That tree's fair covered in itch weed, and I gits it real bad."
This brought laughs all around.
"I'm thinkin' she's gotta come down sometime. I might jus' wait fer 'er," Keen said seriously.
"Then ya are stupid," the first one said. "Blood's bin spilt here. That cats have smelled it fer sure, an' ther hungry, too. They'll be here by dusk, maybe sooner, with the drought. While ther' eatin' you, yer pritty little plaything'l git away."
Cats! the girl cursed silently. Fear did make me stupid. I didn't even think about the cats. If the bu’dra didn't leave soon, she'd be stuck here when the cats came, and itch weed wouldn't keep them out of the tree.
"Come on, Keen, grab one these dead 'uns an' let’s git movin'" the first said forcefully. "Ther'll be other squilchers. There always are."
Keen cursed and spat at the itch weed before turning and picking up a dead squilcher. As he threw the body over his shoulder, the girl noticed that it was one of the boys she'd shared her roots with.
The bu’dra lumbered out of the glade along a different path than the one taken by the Tendak'ra. This path would take them back to town, too, but it went by way of the river and entered the city at the docks.
The girl waited as long as she could to make sure the bu’dra were really gone. Then she climbed down through itch weed - which thankfully did not affect her at all. Once on the ground she paused briefly to examine the contents of her sack. She found two chunks of cheese, some dried meet and dried fruit, and a skin of water.
She tied a knot in the top of the sack then disappeared swiftly and silently into the forest.
* * *
As the serving party reached the outskirts of the city, Mel'sa wrapped her arm around her father's waist and squeezed.
She smiled at him and said, "We did good today, didn't we Father."
"Yes, sweetie," her father smiled back, "we did good today."
* * *
That evening Mel’sa came to her father in his study.
"Father, why are the bu'dra so wicked? Why do the squilchers live like animals in the forest?"
Scrandrae looked quizzically at his daughter.
"Surely after all the time you have spent with your teachers and hearing the Word preached in the temple, you know the answer to that question?" he asked.
"The Fracture," Mel'sa stated, knowing that was the correct answer. "But I do not understand. We live after the Fracture, too, yet we and the others in the Temple, the other people of the Book are good people. Why do the bu'dra and the squilchers not join us? Why do they not live our way?"
"Be careful, Mel'sa, lest pride take you down the path of the bu'dra," Scrandrae chided gently. "It is a prideful thing to claim 'goodness.' You know that none of us are perfect. We have all erred and done wicked things, even if only in our thoughts."
"Yes, Father, of course," Mel'sa admitted, "but we are not like the squilchers - living naked in the forest without culture and learning, and procreating without marriage. And we are not like the bu'dra who live base, lawless, lascivious lives."
Scrandrae, chuckled and nodded in grudging agreement.
"Yes, that is true. But even our goodness is a gift given to us from Mother and Father and we must never take pride in the fact that we and our way of life is wholesome, right and pure."
"I do not wish to take pride. I only wish to understand why more people do not follow the teachings of Mother and Father. If we can follow them, why can they not follow them? I know it is because of the Fracture, but I do not understand why?"
Scrandrae sighed.
"You ask deep questions - good questions - for one so young," He smiled at Mel'sa, "You make me proud."
Mel'sa smiled at her father's praise. She loved to please her father. Scrandrae rose from his desk and reached for an ancient book on the top shelf of his book case. Mel'sa's heart leapt. It was one of Father's portions of The Word. It was old and incredibly valuable. She loved hearing readings from the Word in worship. She loved it even more when Father read to them at home.
He returned to his chair and opened the book carefully.
"Let us read of the Fracture again, and then we shall return to your question."
In those days Muntar was still young and the Children of Flesh were younger yet and few in number. Muntar itself, though beautiful and wondrous, was vast and wild; for the Children of Muntar had not yet begun to join in its shaping.
Mother had chosen a place to give life to the Children of Flesh and Father had shaped it into a bounteous paradise, a haven of peace and provision where their new children could grow. There the Children of Flesh lived and grew and wondrous was their life. For they lived in two worlds at once. They could touch the leaves, grasses and animals around them. They could taste the fruits. They could smell the flowers. They could hear the singing of the birds, the crash of the thunder and the gentle breeze among the trees. They could see the beauty of Muntar around and beneath them and the Children of Light above them.
The Children of Flesh perceived each other in all these ways as well. They found beauty and love among themselves and gave birth to more Children. This pleased Mother and Father who rejoiced that their children loved and created as well.
The Children of Flesh perceived Father and Mother as well, but not with eyes or ears, taste or touch or smell. The Children perceived Mother and Father with their spirit. They could also perceive the spirit in each other.
The Children of Flesh were wondrous, but they were unaware of the wonder of their own life. For they lived in two worlds at once: the world of seeing, tasting, touching, hearing and smelling, and the world of spirit.
When they learned from Father and Mother that the stars were their sisters and brothers - Children of Light giving beauty to the night sky, they rejoiced. The Children of Flesh then, began to perceive the Children of Light as they perceived Mother and Father.
But some grew restless. Why were the Children of Light free to travel the vastness of the heavens, while they were bound to the earth? Why did Mother and Father grant this freedom and power to the Children of Light but not to them? And so envy and bitterness sprouted within and among them.
Some among the Children of Light also grew envious and bitter. They longed to see, hear, smell, taste, and touch as the Children of Flesh did. They longed for the power to exist and act physically within the physical universe, as the Children of Flesh did. Just as the Children of Flesh looked upon their forms with awe and wonder, so too did the Children of Light look upon the forms of the Children of Muntar with awe and wonder.
Such was their envy that many of the Children of Light began to project an appearance of themselves that was like unto the Children of Flesh. They observed and envied the joining of body with body that was granted to the Children of Flesh and longed for such joining. So the Children of Light added lust to envy as a cancer within their spirits.
Some among the Children of Light and some among the Children of Flesh sought a nexus - a way to move between the two worlds, to exist fully and completely in either. Mother God and Father God knew of these efforts and warned all of the Children against such a thing.
Speaking in unison as one in spirit and mind they said, "Our Children of Light, we conceived you to be creatures of Spirit. You are and will only ever be at home in the world of Spirit. Though you may perceive the physical world and interact with it, you cannot live within it. Our Children of Light, hear us, trust us, heed us, or you will die."
Mother and Father God paused then turned their voices to their other Children, "Our Children of Flesh, we conceived you to be creatures of Spirit and Matter. Your live and will only ever be at home in both worlds. You are the Nexus of these two worlds. You cannot leave one world and live only in the other. Children of Muntar, hear us, trust us, heed us, or you will die."
Most of the Children heard, trusted and heeded Mother and Father. They eschewed envy and bitterness and choose to receive with joy the life given them. But many clung to their envy, nurtured their bitterness and sought ever more diligently to create their own nexus. They rejected Mother and Father's warnings as lies told to oppress them and deny them their rightful places in the universe.
Of those among the Children of Light that held this view, the most powerful was Mar'lanuthee. Of those among the Children of Flesh that held this view, the most powerful was Dahl. They discovered each other and through great effort and strength of will shared their minds with each other. Together and with the aid of their disciples, they fashioned the Masks. These Masks varied in shape, size and substance but all were fashioned of spirit encased in matter. Many masks were made, some of greater and some of lesser power.
And the masks served as a nexus so that Children of Light could enter into the physical world through the mask and the wearer, and Children of Muntar could leave their physical body and the physical world and exist as spirit.
When Mother and Father saw what their children had done, they were filled with wrath.
"You have chosen! So be it!" said Mother and her voice echoed in spirit, soul and body.
Father raised his hands above his head palm to palm, then pulled them down and apart with violent fury. A great cracking and rending echoed through spirit, soul and body. The Physical was severed from the Spiritual. The Children of flesh were sundered from the Mother and Father and the world of the spirit. Existence was fractured.
Scrandrae closed the book and looked thoughtfully at Mel'sa.
"I know the story, Father. I just do not understand why some live lives of good and others of animals or of evil."
"After the Fracture," Father explained, "we lost our natural connection with the Spiritual. But Mother and Father did not abandon us. Through the prophets and the priests - the people of the Word - they gave us their Word - that is their words - so that those who were willing could live good lives, so that we could live the way Mother and Father want us to live. But many have never heard the Word and many who have heard it choose to reject it. They prefer to live their own way according to rules of human making - like the bu'dra - or according to the rules of the animals who have never known the life of the spirit - like the squilchers."
"It is a matter of choice, then," said Mel'sa. "Some choose to follow the teaching of the Word and others do not."
"Yes," said Father.
"But what about those who do not know the Word. It is not fair that they suffer simply because they are ignorant of the truth."
"Fairness is not really the issue," Scrandrae returned, "but that is why we send out teachers among the squilchers and among the bu'dra. We want them to know so that they can leave their animal ways and wicked lives behind and live like we do. It would be cruel of us if we did not share the blessing that was so freely given to us."
"Perhaps I will be a teacher when I come of age," Mel'sa said fiercely. "Perhaps I will go to the squilchers or the bu'dra or even beyond to share the truth."
"Perhaps," Father smiled, "but I would not say that to your mother just yet. She will have a hard time sending you away."