The Cursed Towers (32 page)

Isabeau sat still, thinking over the Firemaker's words and puzzling out their meaning. She had never heard the term "Soul-Sage" before and was not sure whether she had interpreted the words correctly, though she had seen a woman throwing a handful of old bones before—a woman with triangular scars on her cheeks and forehead. She too slept at the back of the cave and was served first, along with the warriors and the storytellers. The description of her skimming among the stars was especially strange, particularly since Isabeau had never seen her leave the cave.

The suggestion that she was to seek her name and her totem excited Isabeau. She knew her sister Iseult had undergone her ordeal and initiation, and knew now that the second part of her name, the "derin" of

"Khan-derin," meant "savage like the saber leopard." This was a strong name, a highly respected name, indicating that Iseult had courage, strength and boldness.

"If you are to make the journey to the Skull of the World and ask the White Gods for your name, you must be properly prepared. Some among the Council of Scarred Warriors believe that you must set out now, for already you are highly marked. The First, the Soul-Sage and I the Firemaker disagree. Already the long darkness descends and you are a stranger in this land and still a child in our eyes. We would not send a child out to face the Gods of White without the right knowledge or tools and so we shall not send you. The children of the Gods of White are trained from birth, however. You are among us only a short time, so you shall begin your learning. Move your bed-roll from the fire of the little coney to the fire of the Soul-Sage. She shall teach you her craft, and the one who guided you to the haven shall teach you the art of the Scarred Warrior, and I shall teach you the wisdom and lore of the Firemaker. When you are ready, you shall make the journey to the Skull of the World."

Isabeau made the gesture of affirmation and understanding. The Firemaker said: "I asked of you a question which you answered fully and with truth. Do you wish a story in return?" After some thought, Isabeau said, "Tell me the story of the Soul-Sage, if you please." The Firemaker frowned and said reluctantly, "It is the story of the Soul-Sage to tell."

"I am but a stranger here and a child in your eyes. If I am to sit at the feet of the Soul-Sage, should I not know her story if I am not to offend from ignorance?"

The Firemaker bowed her head, turned her palms upward in her lap and said: "The Soul-Sage is the skimmer among stars, the speaker across distance, the caster of bones, the foreteller and foreboder. The Soul-Sage can hear the hidden thought and see the secret heart. Alone among the People does she hear the soundless speech of the Gods of White. The mark upon her brow is the scratch of their claw.

"Before the first Firemaker was born, each pride was equal in strength and cunning. The old mother, the soul-sages, the scarred warriors and the storytellers would consult and counsel together, and so direct the prides. The firekeepers carried the coals, the metalsmiths forged the weapons, the weavers made the clothes, and the children herded the
ulez
and gathered roots and leaves. Everyone in the pride had their place.

"Then the first Firemaker was born, and all places were turned upside down. She could conjure fire so the firekeepers' sacred duty was no longer of such vital importance. She could speak across distances and see into the hearts of those around her, so that the soul-sages were jealous and suspicious. She could turn aside the thrust of a
reil
or a dagger, or sense where game was hiding, so that the scarred warriors were made to seem small and stupid. All were angry, and wondered why the Gods of White had brought the red one to live among them.

"The Soul-Sage of the Fire Dragon Pride cast the bones and listened to the words of the gods, who told her that the red one was a gift to the people of the Spine of the World, in reward for their long exile. She was given to bring warmth and light to the howling night, and to protect the people of the prides from their enemies. She was not their master but their servant. So the old mothers and scarred warriors, soul-sages and storytellers came together and set laws and limits for the Fire-maker which she must swear to uphold. This is why each pride still has its firekeeper, who carries the coals and keeps them safe, and only if the firekeeper fails may the Firemaker conjure fire for that pride and they must pay the price."

Isabeau bowed her head at these words, for at last she understood the consternation at her conjuring of fire. The Firemaker nodded and made a sweeping gesture with her thin, gnarled hand.

"There were some among the Firemakers who could skim the stars or foresee the future, however, and most can speak across distances or command the birds and beasts. So the soul-sages, who were once the wisdom of the pride, brood still about their lost power and glance askance at those of the Firemaker's get. This is the story of the Soul-Sage."

The Firemaker's hands dropped back into her lap and she met Isabeau's gaze for a moment before making the gesture of dismissal. Isabeau bowed her head, thanked her, then rose to obey her orders. She rolled her blankets under her arm and went and knelt near the Soul-Sage's fire, her eyes downcast. She knew better than to make any gesture or word of greeting. She knelt in this way for close on ten minutes before the Soul-Sage lifted her eyes and brought her hand to her brow, her heart and then out. Isabeau crossed her hands over her breast and bowed her head. The Soul-Sage then indicated that Isabeau may sit, and she unrolled her blankets and sat down cross-legged once more. The Soul-Sage was a woman of middle years, dark of skin with a long, narrow face and even more prominent facial structure than usual among her race. Her eyes were so heavily hooded, nothing could be seen of them but the occasional cold gleam. She was painfully thin, her arms and legs as spindly as the limbs of a bird. Hanging around her neck on a cord was a bird's talon, and in a bag of skin tied to her waist she carried her bones, an odd collection of animal knuckles, broken skeletons, claws and fossilized stones.

The Soul-Sage was a woman of long silences, but there was power in her every movement. Like the storytellers, she had a fable or proverb for every occasion. Since she was Isabeau's teacher, Isabeau was permitted to ask questions and request stories whenever she pleased. This meant, however, that she had to answer any question the Soul-Sage asked and some of these were deeply personal. Isabeau had already learnt she must not fidget or prevaricate, but many of the Soul-Sage's questions caused scorching color to sweep over her face as she did her best to answer wholly and truthfully. Her first question was whether Isabeau had preserved her virginity. This was rather puzzling because the Khan'-cohbans had a very straightforward and candid attitude to their sexuality. Since all lived in the same small area, there was almost no privacy and Isabeau had been rather shocked to discover Khan'cohbans were rarely monogamous, often sharing a different bed every night, with the only taboo being between children and parents or between siblings. Isabeau knew that the witches of the Coven rarely married, but those who did enter into relationships usually did so on a long-term basis and promiscuity was unusual.

After answering as best she could, feeling rather glad now that Lilanthe had interrupted her and Dide when she had, Isabeau asked the Soul-Sage why her virginity was of such importance.

"You are still a child in our eyes and nameless," the woman replied, "but more importantly, the profoundest secrets of the gods are not revealed to those who too early distract themselves with thoughts of the flesh. Later, such things can lead to deeper levels of understanding, but at this stage one must think only of what is beyond one's body, not within. For now, learn and keep silence." Isabeau nodded in understanding. She remembered Meghan once saying something similar to her about Ish-bel the Winged, before Isabeau had known the fabled flying sorceress was her own mother. Meghan had said how disappointed she had been that Ishbel had fallen in love so early, for she might have been a great sorceress had she waited for her powers to flower fully.

Many of the Soul-Sage's lessons were similar to Meghan's, particularly the meditation and scrying exercises. Isabeau had always found it hard to sit still for prolonged periods and even harder to empty her mind of thoughts. Even if she had been able to subdue her natural restless energy, her mind would race on, filled with ideas, daydreams, random thoughts, stray memories and trivial worries. Meghan had always insisted on a short period of meditation each dawn and Isabeau had sat the nightlong Ordeal many times; but since parting ways with her guardian, Isabeau had fallen out of the habit of regular meditation.

She found the Soul-Sage a much harder taskmaster than Meghan had ever been. The Khan'cohban woman could sit still for hours at a time without fidgeting, sighing or altering the slow steady rhythm of her breathing. Since all her food was gathered and prepared for her, all her clothes woven, and all her tools and eating implements made for her, she had the leisure to spend her days in silent meditation. Isabeau, however, was used to an active, busy life and at first she found it very difficult. The Soul-Sage kept a thin switch in her hand, however, and after being slashed every time she shifted her weight, moaned or peeked out through her eyelashes, Isabeau soon was able to sustain at least the semblance of immobility while her thoughts leapt and played.

One day the Soul-Sage brought out a little drum decorated with feathers and smears of ash and ocher.

"As I beat, breathe," she ordered.

Obediently Isabeau sat, back straight, hands upturned on her thighs. Eyes shut, she heard the Soul-Sage slowly and rhythmically pound the drum with one hand. At first Isabeau found it difficult to regulate her breathing to the drumbeat. It was too slow, so that she was gasping for air by the time the sound came again. After a long while she caught the rhythm, inhaling very slowly, holding her breath for several strained moments when it felt as if every vein and capillary was swollen with oxygen, then slowly, quivering, exhaling until she was slack as a deflated bagpipe. When at last the drumbeat stopped, it took Isabeau a while to notice, so absorbed had she become in her own breathing. Then she felt rather lightheaded and the cave around her seemed bright and noisy, when always before its gloom and silence had oppressed her.

"A beginning," the Soul-Sage said and put the drum away.

It was now the dark, cold depths of winter and the sun shone for only a few hours each day. Those few hours of dismal light were spent with the Khan'cohban who had guided her to the Haven, learning the treacherous nature of snow. To Isabeau's amazement, the otherwise taciturn Khan'cohbans had more than thirty words for frozen water. Words like snowflake, snowdrift, snowstorm, snowball, icicle, frost, sleet, slush, hail, blizzard and avalanche came nowhere near expressing the many subtleties of snow. The Khan'cohban warrior taught her to know when it was only a few inches thick or many feet deep, when rocks were hidden beneath a deceptively soft slope, or when a mere breath of wind would be enough to cause an avalanche. Isabeau learnt to recognize the tracks of deer, coneys, marmots, foxes, squirrels, hoarweasels, native lynx, snow lions, bears and wolves—all of which looked quite different in snow than upon the bare earth. She learnt when a snowstorm was brewing and how to stay alive if caught in one.

She bruised herself black and blue trying to learn to stand on a skimmer. The first time she whizzed effortlessly down a slope was the most exhilarating experience of her life. For the first time she thought she knew how it felt to fly. That day was the first time Isabeau saw the Scarred Warrior smile, and it greatly lightened the grim darkness of his face. He punched his right fist into his left, a sign of triumph, and then sternly criticized her on her lack of grace and style. Isabeau only grinned in response and from that moment on practiced her skimming skills at every opportunity, despite the bruises and aching muscles. It gradually occurred to Isabeau that her teacher was the only Scarred Warrior never to leave the Haven. The others spent much of their time out hunting meat for the pride, returning triumphantly with slaughtered deer, coneys, birds and the wide-antlered
geal'teas.
On their return the fires were built high, there were dances of jubilation, and everyone but Isabeau feasted with great enjoyment. One day, as she and her Scarred Warrior teacher walked through the snowy forest, Isabeau asked tentatively, "Teacher, I would ask of you a question."

For a moment she thought he would refuse, then he made a curt gesture of assent.

"Teacher, why is it that you stay here in Haven when all the other Scarred Warriors are away hunting most of the time?"

There was silence for a moment, then he indicated she sit, unstrapping his skimmer from his back and sitting on it, cross-legged.

"Although I long to be out in the snowy fields, skimming with my comrades and feeling the hot lust of hunting and killing, I am under a
geas
to your kin, the Firemaker. This is how she has commanded me to fulfill my debt of honor. Long ago my daughter was lost in a white storm of lightning and ice. I was far away, fighting against the Pride of the Woolly Bear. The Firemaker stilled the storm and my daughter, who is dear to my heart, was found. The effort exhausted the Firemaker and for a long time we thought her spirit was lost. Only the Soul-Sage was able to find her and heal her and bring her spirit back to the pride. The Firemaker was willing to surrender her life for my daughter and so a
geas
was laid upon me. So though it irks me greatly to stay behind like a mere child and lose a winter of fighting and hunting and thus a chance to win another scar, I stay in the Haven and teach you and guide you as the Firemaker has commanded."

Silence fell. He brought his hands back to lie still on his thighs and said, "I have answered your question in fullness and truth, now shall you answer mine."

Isabeau made the gesture of affirmation, though with some trepidation. She had learnt the questions of Khan'-cohbans were usually disconcerting and often embarrassing.