“It is why we have never made war amongst ourselves. You might say we celebrate our common differences.”
“That is well-spoken,” Jenah said. Turning to Tess, he added, “That which divides us is but a fraction of that which unites us. And thus have we played and laughed and worked together from the First Age.”
He paused for a moment, shifting forward in his seat. “But not all is play and laughter, m’Lady. As I said, we have a favor to ask of you. And the Lady Sara, if she would not mind.”
“I will do what I can,” Tess said, uncertainty and dread growing within her heart. “I fear I know too little to be of much use.”
“And I,” Sara added. “I pray that you do not expect too much, lest I disappoint you.”
“What they ask is naught but a small thing,” Jenah said, smiling. “Our Telneren ask. They will explain.”
4
Jenah led Tess and Sara out of the guest room and through the larger circular entrance room by which they had come. He paused a moment to orient them.
“Each Anari Tel consists of three family groups. This room is my family’s entrance to the temple.” He pointed through a window at one of the serpentine paths that led to another round building surrounded by smaller houses. “That is my family’s dwelling place. My people always come to the temple along that path and through this door. This demonstrates our awareness that we are part of a larger whole, yet each must follow his own path within the whole.”
“It’s beautiful,” Tess said, looking around her at the glyphs on the walls. “I can see why people believe the Ilduin secrets lie within your temples. These walls sing with meaning and yet hover out of reach, like forgotten dreams.”
“Like forgotten dreams,” Sara echoed, nodding. “Yes.”
“Come,” Jenah said, indicating a door on the inner wall. “The Telneren await.”
They stepped through the door into another large circular room, obviously at the center of the temple. The walls and ceiling offered a panoply of glyphs and recessed reliefs that drew the attention from one to the next as if by a magnetic force. In the center, a round altar stood with three lighted candles. Around the altar sat six Anari women, their eyes closed, mouths moving silently and yet in unison. Jenah touched a finger to his lips and waited with them as the women completed their prayer.
When they finished the prayer, the six women opened their eyes simultaneously and turned to Jenah. The oldest of the women spoke quietly.
“These are the Ilduin?”
“Yes, mother,” Jenah said. “I present Lady Tess Birdsong and Lady Sara Deepwell, of Whitewater, in the northern lands. Upon my honor, they come with pure hearts and of free will in the service of the Anari.”
“Upon your honor, with pure hearts and of free will, we accept their service,” the woman said. Then she broke into a smile and offered a slight bow, instantly mirrored by the others. “Welcome to Gewindi-Telner, my Ladies. We are honored to be blessed with Ilduin presence.”
“The honor is ours,” Tess said, repeating the bow and the words Jenah had taught her, the ritual greetings of the Anari. “My hosts bless me with their hospitality.”
“My name is Eiehsa of Gewindi-Tel,” the woman said, now stepping closer. “My son has told me of your meeting, and the courage of your companions. I would thank you for saving my son’s life, and know that I feel such in my heart, but a formal recitation would neglect the souls of those whom you could not save and the mothers who grieve them. I fear you have come to our land in perilous times, and yet we ask your blessing.”
“My blessing?” Tess asked, surprised to learn that Eiesha was Jenah’s mother. “I don’t understand.”
“Ilduin were they who taught us to shape these walls such,” Eiehsa said, “and Ilduin are the spirits that move within Anari hands as they shape the stone. It is the custom of our people that children receive an Ilduin blessing as soon as they leave their mothers’ breasts, but our only Ilduin was taken as a slave four years past, and many are the unblessed children. On behalf of my Tel, I entreat that you would bless these young souls, that their future may be brighter than their past.”
“I do not know what to do,” Tess said. “Sara and I are of Ilduin blood, yes, but we have not yet learned even a fraction of what that means.”
The woman smiled. “It is not what you may know that would bless our children, Lady Tess. It is the essence of the goodness that lies within you which carries the grace of blessing.”
Tess remembered the horrors of Lorense and wondered if there was indeed goodness in her Ilduin heritage. Would she bless these people—or damn them? She could see the same thoughts echoed in Sara’s eyes.
“I fear the Ladies doubt themselves, Mother,” Jenah said. “Much pain have they suffered in their journey here, and I sense there is much they regret. Little has Lady Tess told me, but in the spaces between her words there are volumes to be read.”
The woman nodded and held out a hand to each of them, palms up. The warmth in the woman’s eyes completed the invitation, and Tess and Sara each placed a hand in hers. The woman’s eyes closed, and her lips moved again in a silent prayer. Although her back was to the other Telneren, they, too, closed their eyes and mouthed the prayer in unison.
“These are hands of soft hearts,” Eiehsa said, her eyes still closed. “For only soft hearts could grieve so. May Adis guide their grieving hearts into safe harbor and his cleansing waters carry their stains into the abyss.”
“May Adis guide their grieving hearts into safe harbor and his cleansing waters carry their stains into the abyss,” the other women echoed in unison.
Tess had closed her eyes almost on impulse, but now she opened them as she felt water pouring over her hand. Two of the other women had approached them with shallow, stone pitchers from which the water flowed.
Eiehsa smiled and gave their hands a squeeze. “What Adis has taken into the abyss, you must release, lest you be taken into the abyss with it. Bear your burdens no longer, noble Ilduin.”
Tess’s thoughts warred against each other. On one side was the impulse to accept that what was past was past and embrace her future. On the other lay doubt, the urge to dismiss the woman’s words as so much mystical refuse. Only when she saw the tears flowing down Sara’s face did she know to which impulse she would yield. There was naught to be gained and much to be lost in continuing to flay herself for what had happened.
“I accept the forgiveness of Adis,” Sara whispered through her tears.
“I accept the forgiveness of Adis,” Tess repeated, now feeling her own tears begin to flow. “Let us go forward together, Sara, in the good that we know to be.”
“Yes, Lady Tess,” Sara said, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “In the good that we know to be.”
A wide smile lighted Eiehsa’s face and, it seemed, the entire room. “And now, you will bless our children?”
The children filed in through the three great entryways, accompanied by mothers who appeared both anxious and proud. All the children were very young, some infants in arms, others certainly no more than five summers. At the altar, the three lines merged and began to move in a circle around Tess and Sara so that each child would be blessed by both.
As she touched each soft head and absorbed each smile, Tess felt beauty growing within her, a lightness and warmth that she was sure she had never felt before. Her lips murmured gentle words of blessing, but it was as if she was the one being blessed. She had no idea how many children she might have blessed…a hundred? But she was transported by the experience until, at its very end, she lifted her eyes to the dome of rock above her head and stared into its very heart.
It was as if the symbols drew her, lifting her, until she felt light