Between Darkness and Light (45 page)

The recounting of Ghyakulla's search for Her lost child through Winter's domain had gone more smoothly than he'd feared it would, given how little time they'd had to practice it. All through it, he'd felt as if he was an automaton, merely playing the part he'd designated for himself—the words were only words, with none of the sentiment behind them that they'd held for him in the past. Now there was only the final ritual to conduct. Rousing himself, he looked over to Khadui and Dzaou and flicked an ear in an affirmative. The two Sholans began to beat their drums, a low, rhythmic beat that matched that of a Sholan heart exactly.

“To open our celebrations, we offer the traditional gifts to Vartra,” said Kusac. “Fire, incense, salt, and water. Let the torch be brought so that the fires of truth and clear thought can be once more lit in our hearts.”

Jayza came forward carrying a blazing torch which he handed to Kusac. Taking the torch, he stepped toward the right-hand brazier and lit it first. The flames leaped upward, crackling and dancing as if they were alive. Moving to the other brazier, he once more turned on the gas and ignited it. A second time the flames leaped high before settling down. Would that he could kindle the light of truth so easily in his own life.

Handing the torch back to Jayza, Kusac returned to his place in front of the altar and its small statuettes.

“These flames shall signify the return of the sun to our land. Let the incense be brought to sweeten the air and aid our meditation.”

It was Shaidan who stepped forward this time, bearing a small container in his hands. As he approached Kusac, he lifted the lid, presenting him with the open box.

From it, Kusac took a handful of the resinous granules and stepping toward the first brazier, threw some into the heart of the flames. They flared up brightly, spitting and crackling as a cloud of sweet-smelling smoke began to billow upward. Clear thought—he no longer knew what that meant these days when everything around him seemed to be steeped in a sea of fog. He repeated his actions with the second brazier.

Shaidan closed the box and hesitating only briefly, went to stand beside Jayza.

“The perfumed air shall remind us of the blossoms of spring.” Spring—he thought longingly of spring on his estate, with the riot of colorful blossoms everywhere. Then he remembered what he was doing and pushed the painful memories aside.

“Let the water that sustains all life be brought that I may add my gift of salt to it,” he said, taking a pouch from his pocket and holding it aloft.

Banner stepped forward, carrying the bowl of water into which he poured the contents of the pouch. Taking his Brotherhood knife from his belt, he held it in both hands and proceeded to slowly stir the contents of the bowl with it.

“Let the water of life and the salt of the earth be conjoined and purified,” he said. Removing the knife, he wiped it carefully on the empty pouch then returned it to its sheath and the pouch to his robe pocket before taking the bowl from Banner.

As his Second stepped back beside Jayza, Kusac turned to the statuettes of Vartra and Ghyakulla and bowing, placed the bowl in front of them. He remained there a moment with his back to the gathering.

The drumbeat began to quicken, Khadui and Dzaou using both hands now as the hypnotic sound rose in volume until it reached a crescendo which fragmented into separate rhythms before suddenly stopping.

In the profound silence that followed, Kusac spoke once more. “As we have revered Your Mother, Ghyakulla, by recounting the story of Her search for You in Winter's domain, we now ask You to bless us who are here today, and bless this celebration which we hold in honor of Your recovery and Your birth.” He bowed once more before turning back to the assembled Sholans and Primes. Reaching out, he took Shaidan by the hand, drawing him to his side. “Let the feast begin,” he said simply, then led the way to the tables at the other end of the hall.

 

Unlike the Prime festival, theirs was a meal set at tables. Out of courtesy, he'd had to place the General and Doctor Zayshul on his left while Banner and the others of his crew were on his right. Giyarishis had surprised everyone by asking to join them at the meal even though he could eat little of their food beyond some of the vegetables.

Many of the Primes had elected to join them, interested not only to see how the Sholans celebrated their own turn of the year, but because it was a change from the normal daily routine. The food was of course, Sholan-style, with several large joints of roasted meat as well as the obligatory dishes of stews and a variety of vegetables from either the hydroponics lab of Giyarishis or from the planet they'd gone to for their hunt.

For once, even the abrasive Dzaou was disposed to be relatively pleasant to the Primes as well as to Kusac himself. There was plenty of lively conversation—aided by copious amounts of ale brewed by the 'ponics level—as the two religions were compared and contrasted.

He said little, preferring instead to watch his son, who sat with Zayshul and her daughter, and listen to everyone else. While part of his mind noted that the integration of the Primes' military group with the civilians was complete, with both parties completely at their ease with each other, the rest of his mind had retreated until the sound of their conversation resembled the chuckling of water running over small stones.

Reaching for his drink, he noticed Khadui and Jayza excuse themselves from the table and head off to the drums, several Primes following in their wake with their own percussive instruments. Moments later, Dzaou left. Afer a few tentative practice patterns of beats, they began playing again—a light, foot-tapping rhythm that seemed to appeal to both species.

Zayshul had been as quiet as he'd been throughout the meal, speaking only to the children or occasionally to the Prime female seated opposite her. On a distant level, he'd been aware of her glancing in his direction every now and then, but he'd not responded.

Beside her, Kezule was relaxed and expansive, asking first Jayza, then occasionally himself, many questions about their religion. His answers had been automatic, requiring little thought.

The music changed, becoming more complex as the drummers gained confidence. He found he could relax into it, let it flow over and through him till he began to find a measure of peace.

A hand touched his, making him jump in surprise, pulling him back to the real world.

“I think Dzaou's planning something,” said Banner, leaning close to him so he couldn't be overheard.

“What?” he asked, lifting the drinking vessel to his lips.

“I don't know, but he's been trying too hard to be pleasant for my liking.”

He looked at his Second, raising a quizzical eye ridge. “What could he do?”

Banner's hand suddenly tightened on his. “He's made a mask!” he hissed.

He looked through the crowd of Primes wandering round or standing chatting in small knots over to where Dzaou was emerging from the temple office, face covered by a mask decorated in paint, feathers, and bits of fur from the herd animals. It looked familiar, and frowning, Kusac tried to place the design.

“We can't do anything about it unless we want to cause an incident,” snarled the frustrated Banner, watching as Dzaou strode through the fascinated crowd to the drummers and took a small drum from Jayza.

Aware of Kezule walking toward him, he continued to watch as Dzaou began to beat out one of the traditional charged dance rhythms, swaying his body arrogantly in time to the new beat. Then he remembered.

“He's invoking L'Shoh, the Liege of Hell,” he said quietly. “The mask is an ancient design, it hasn't been used for decades.”

“Invoking L'Shoh?” echoed Banner as the Sholan drummers faltered and stopped, looking over to Kusac for guidance.

“As God of Justice,” he replied through numbed lips. “It's a warning that none can escape the God.”

“You have to stop him!” hissed Banner, keeping his voice as low as possible before the General rejoined them.

“Very entertaining,” said Kezule, sitting back down on his seat to watch Dzaou. “I hadn't expected a masked dancer. You should have told me and I could have made more resources available to you.”

“We don't normally dance, or drum, if away from home as we are now,” said Banner, filling the silence.

One of the Prime drummers picked up Dzaou's beat and joined him, quickly followed by the others. Khadui and Jayza were still looking at him when Dzaou increased the tempo until he was swirling and stamping in the area in front of the drummers.

He unfroze, and managed, by slight finger and ear movements as he reached for his ale again, to signal to Khadui and Jayza that they were to play this one piece only.

“It has a very primitive appeal,” said Kezule, watching as several Primes began to sway to the music, too. “Like a heartbeat, only faster.”

“It's a fertility dance,” said Banner, never taking his eyes off Dzaou. “At home we have a traditional hunt in the morning and only the successful hunters are permitted to dance.”

“And the dance . . . ?”

“Is done to attract mates,” Kusac said stiffly. “Or to honor existing ones. The Masks are worn to frighten off Winter's Dzinaes—the spirits that cause the ice and snowstorms.”

“Intriguing,” said Kezule, glancing from the group of mainly Prime females who were swaying in time to the music to Kusac. “It seems to have an hypnotic effect on both dancers and watchers.”

“That's why it's only done on our own estates,” said Banner, his tone roughened by the growl of anger he couldn't release.

“I'd like to see the mask when he's finished.”

The drumming had reached its height and was now beginning to slow and gradually fade.

“He's only doing the one dance,” said Banner, getting to his feet. “I'll fetch it from him now.”

As Banner strode over to Dzaou and took him off to one side, Kezule concentrated on lighting one of his thin smokes then glanced up at Kusac. “Do I detect a slight difference of opinion between you two and the others in your crew over the dancing and the mask? Has it, perhaps, some other significance?”

“Not at all,” he replied, turning back to the table while straining all his senses to make out what Banner was saying to Dzaou. “It was an impromptu gesture by Dzaou, nothing more.”

“The General wants to see your mask,”
Banner was saying, his tone low and furious, the growl no longer concealed.
“You've made your point, just remember judgment cuts both ways. I'll have words with you later about this.”

Dzaou laughed humorlessly and, taking the mask off, handed it to Banner.
“Give it to him. He can keep it.”

Dzaou shrugged and handed him the drum.

“You worry too much,”
Dzaou said, pushing Banner aside and heading for the farthest table.

There was more to the mask than representing justice, Kusac was sure of it. He began to search through the memories he'd inherited from Kaid, trying to figure it out. There was no connection he knew of with either the worship of Ghyakulla or Vartra, or even with Kuushoi, Winter's Queen and L'Shoh's consort, and he'd never been interested in following the Lord of Hell. Every instinct was telling him that Dzaou had done it only to cause mischief, but how?

It wasn't until Banner had returned and handed the mask to Kezule that it came to him—and then it was too late. The mask did stand for the aspects of the God he'd mentioned—truth, judgment, and justice—but it also stood for more. Up until a hundred years or so ago, sending a mask of this design meant the recipient was being told in no uncertain terms that his crimes would be brought to light and judged by the God Himself if necessary.

“It's very well made,” said Kezule, turning it round to inspect it from both sides. “Thank Dzaou for the gift of it. Which Dzinae does it represent?”

“It's the face of the God L'Shoh who sits in judgment over the dead and living,” said Shaidan, drawing the attention of all three adults to him.

Was his son a powerful enough Telepath to pick up that much detail from his mind, he thought, and dismissed the idea instantly when he saw the gleam of the metal collar round the cub's neck. His next was how else could Shaidan possibly know this?