Hienama

Stafford, England

The Hienama: A Story of the
Sulh

© Storm Constantine 2008

Smashwords edition 2009

This is a work of fiction. All
the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious,
and any resemblance to real people, or events, is purely
coincidental.

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The whole experience was different for
me, because I came to Wraeththu pretty late. In comparison. Most of
the hara around me had been incepted in their teens, whereas I was
in my early twenties when it happened. I always felt kind of out of
place because of that. Not that hara weren’t good to me. It wasn’t
that. I just had memories they didn’t have.

I’d been incepted into the
Sulh, a travelling band, and the har who came to me after althaia
told me that magic was strong in me, and that I should go to the
town of Jesith to find instruction. A hienama there was renowned
among the Sulh. His name was Ysobi.

Jesith was
a village rather than a town, stuck on a
bleak cliff on the northwest coast of the Alba Sulh phylarchy of
Lyonis. Its former human inhabitants had been wiped out by a plague
that had struck there ten years ago, or so. Most of Alba Sulh had
been ravaged by plagues and the humans who’d survived them had
either fled to the eastern continent or had settled uncomfortably
into a kind of barbaric feudalism; small groups fending off the
depredations of rogue Wraeththu groups. The Sulh, and other smaller
tribes of civilised ways, tried to mediate and soothe any conflict,
but since neither the humans nor the rogue hara had any particular
interest in forging peace, this was difficult to police.

I had heard stories of how hara
had come into Jesith by night, when fog had lain thick over the
hills, making everything seem haunted and silent. There had still
been lights burning in some of the windows, but as the hara stole
between the buildings, like phantoms of mist themselves, and had
looked between the open curtains, they’d found only abandonment or
death. They’d cleared the corpses away and taken over the place for
themselves. They renamed it, of course.

I turned up one afternoon in
the late summer, having travelled there on foot from a larger
settlement in the north. I’d been har for a few years by then,
having taken a while to accept what my early friend had told me. At
first, I’d been interested only in my new condition, my physical
self. All that I’d been before seemed like a nightmare, a fever
dream. I could remember what I’d been like, but only in the way you
can remember stories you read in a newspaper. I’d discovered I was
intelligent, full of curiosity and – most surprisingly – somewhat
sensitive. What I’d been before I preferred not to think about. I’d
been dragged to inception roaring and fighting, and now I couldn’t
get enough of looking at myself, thinking: I am
this,
I
really am. After three years or so, the novelty had still not worn
off.

I walked round Jesith a couple
of times, to get my bearings, then went to the largest inn for a
different kind of information. It was called Willow Pool Garden,
because, yes, it had a garden, a pool and willows at the back. The
place was nearly empty, but there were two young hara in there,
pale-skinned and dark-haired as I was. They spotted me as a
stranger straight away and came directly to the table where I’d
chosen to sip my ale. The beer was heavy and thick, very sweet; I
found out later honey was involved in its production.

‘What have you come here for?’
one of them asked, ‘nohar hardly ever comes
here.
’ He said
this in the way the young have always spoken of their hometowns;
disparagingly, and aghast that strangers would find their way
there. That amused me. Some things never change.

‘I’ve come to ask a hienama
here, Ysobi, for training,’ I answered.

The two hara exchanged a
glance, rolled their eyes, and laughed. ‘Ah,’ they said in
unison.

I raised my eyebrows in enquiry.

‘That’s the only reason anyhar
would ever come here,’ one of them explained, helpfully. ‘I suppose
Yzzi is a legend.’

‘I heard he’s good,’ I
said.

‘Somehar must think
you
are, then.’ The har shook his head, and held out his hand, which
seemed an oddly archaic gesture. ‘Sorry, I’m Minnow.’ He jerked his
head towards his companion. ‘He’s Vole. We were twins, well, still
are…’

Two little creatures; quick
Minnow and shy Vole. They were to become friends of mine. I took
Minnow’s hand and shook it. ‘Hi, I’m Jassenah.’

‘We can show you to the Nayati
in a little while,’ Minnow said. ‘Yzzi is in charge of it. There
are a couple of other hienamas, who deal with any inceptions and
basic caste training, but Yzzi is the specialist. He has a lot of
students come to him from other phyles. He’s picky. He has to be.
But I’m sure he’ll take you on.’

‘I don’t know how I’ll be able
to pay him, supposing there is a charge.’

‘Most students find work here
while they’re training, or their own phyle makes some kind of
donation to Jesith, but if Yzzi thinks you’re worth it, he’ll do it
for free. It’s his vocation.’

I was intrigued.

There was an old church in the
town, but it had fallen mostly into ruins. The hara there had built
their own Nayati, in wood. It consisted of a main hall, with tiers
of seats down two sides, which were supported on thick pillars, so
that there was standing room underneath. The floor was inlaid with
symbols. At the far end were ritual rooms for inceptions and other
rites, and there was an extension on the right side, which was
Ysobi’s small college. Nohar actually lived there with him.
Students were given accommodation in the town and any other
hienamas attached to the Nayati also lived elsewhere. There were
still a lot of empty dwellings in Jesith. At that time, any
newcomer could take their pick.

Minnow led me down the Nayati
to an arched wooden door, silent Vole lingering behind us. The
afternoon had faded. I could smell the aroma of cooking meat as the
inhabitants of Jesith prepared their evening meals. Minnow knocked
on the door and without waiting for a response, opened it. I
followed him into the room beyond.

The first thing I saw was the
domed cage, in which two brightly coloured birds flickered round
like jewels. The floor was mostly covered in cushions, and where
there were no cushions there were papers, books, arcane equipment
and other paraphernalia associated with the dedicated magus. Ysobi
himself, or the har I took to be him, sat on one of the cushions,
examining what looked like an essay. He was frowning a little and
didn’t look up immediately.

‘Yzzi,’ Minnow said. ‘This har
has been sent to you.’

The hienama looked up then. I
don’t know what I had expected really, but he wasn’t quite up to
whatever nebulous expectations I’d had. Perhaps already I assumed
that Wraeththu legends were all great beauties, who could entrance
with a single glance. Ysobi wasn’t ugly, of course, but I remember
thinking he was too gaunt. His hair was very long, but rather lank,
as if he hadn’t washed it for a while. He was dressed in a dark
robe with a hood, and his face was bony. High cheekbones, grey
hollows beneath them. Deep-set eyes, a long thin nose and rather
full lips, which looked strange in juxtaposition with the rest of
his features. I thought he was odd-looking, and that he could do
with a good feed and a long bath. He smiled as I stared at him, and
I felt myself flush; it was as if he’d read my thoughts, which of
course he probably had. Part of why I was there was to learn how to
control and best use my abilities.

‘How can I help you?’ he asked
me, in a voice that was in fact quite beautiful.

‘The hara who incepted me
advised me to come here,’ I said, suddenly feeling I was about to
look stupid for imagining I was something more than I was. ‘They
recommended you.’

‘And what is there about you to
recommend?’ he asked reasonably.

I wanted to shrug and mutter
something non-committal, but sensed this would not be the best
course. ‘They thought I needed training different to the one they
could give me. I’m untried. I don’t know if they’re right. But I
came here, all the same.’

Ysobi nodded once and carefully
put down the papers he’d been reading. ‘Minnow, you can go now.
Come back in two hours, then find our guest somewhere to stay.’

‘You’ll take me on?’ I asked,
quite surprised it had been that easy.

‘I didn’t say that, but
presumably you don’t plan on moving on again tonight, in any
case.’

‘I’m sorry… yes, I mean no.
Sorry.’

Ysobi smiled mildly. ‘It’s
quite all right.’

Minnow patted my arm. ‘We’ll
come back later, then,’ he said. ‘Show you around, find you a
bed.’

‘Thank you.’

After Minnow had gone, Ysobi
gestured with one hand. ‘Put down your bag. Please, sit down.’

I did so. ‘I should have sent a
message to you,’ I said. ‘I feel a bit bad now, just turning
up.’

‘I’m under no obligation and
difficult to embarrass,’ Ysobi said.

I felt mortified, but then he
laughed.

‘Relax. We’ll talk. It’s not a
case of you being good enough for me; it’s whether I think I can
help you. Would you like tea? It’s flavoured with cinnamon. Some
hara don’t like it.’

‘That’d be fine.’

He took a cloth off the pot
that stood on the low table before him and poured some of the amber
fluid into two delicate cups that had no handles. I had never
tasted tea like that before. I really liked it. Just the scent of
cinnamon nowadays takes me back to that day.

‘How long have you been har?’
Ysobi asked.

‘About three years.’

‘And what level are you at in
your training?’

I shrugged. ‘Well, I had basic
instruction after inception. I suppose I’m just Ara. The hara who
incepted me were basically farmers, not mystics.’

‘But Sulh, though?’

‘Yes, Sulh.’ Most hara who
weren’t, in this country, were regarded as vagabonds, looters and
pirates.

‘How old were you at
inception?’

‘Twenty-two.’

Ysobi nodded slowly. ‘Hmm.’

‘Is that bad?’

‘No, not especially. Training
perhaps comes easier to the young, because they have fewer
preconceptions.’

‘That goes for everything to do
with being har,’ I said, before I’d had time to consider the
words.

‘That, of course, is why most
hara are incepted young. What’s your story?’

I had to turn my gaze away from
his eyes. ‘I was born in a northern city. I ran wild. I’m not proud
of what I was. I prefer to forget it.’