Chapter XI: The Welcoming
His feelings confused him as he left his homeland. Having lived with the ridiculous attitudes of his countrymen for all his adult life, Jessar expected to feel relieved when he left Galbard. Instead, he felt ambivalent. It wasn’t his countrymen causing his nostalgia; it was the place, the land of his birth. Never again would he stroll around his treehome, itself filled with fond memories of his mother and his early childhood. In his mind, he could still see her weaving a new tapestry as he ran about the treehome swinging a wooden sword at villains only he saw. Never again would he tend his gardens or….
A disturbance on Promontory Avenue interrupted his thoughts. Guards from the city had met up with the returning soldiers. After a confused period of gesturing and shouting, the elves marched toward the quay.
Luckily, the ferry master had his attention fixed on the task at hand and hadn’t noticed the gathering at the wharf. With another look over his shoulder, Jessar saw that the guards had reorganized. An officer cupped his hands to his mouth, but the distance and the rush of the current against the ferry’s logs delayed and obscured the elf’s words. “Come back now,” Jessar finally heard as the man dropped his hands. If Jessar’s half-elven ears had heard….
The master stopped pulling and glanced back. “Sorry, gentlemen, but it looks like the ride’s over. I don’t expect you’ll help me pull us back?”
Ogador held up another gold coin. “Are you sure I can’t change your mind.”
The hunched elf looked uncertainly from the troops on the shore back to his passengers.
The prince drew his sword and leveled it at the master’s chest. “You can claim that I forced you to take us across, which doesn’t sound like such a bad idea right now anyway.”
The elf’s doubt, and the gold coin, vanished. They all bent over the thick rope with renewed effort.
“Wait,” Jessar shouted.
They turned back to the shore. The leader was saying something again, but the increased distance made the words unintelligible, to Jessar, at least.
Stefir, however heard at least part of it. “Jessar, did you understand any of that? I thought I heard him say ‘return or … cut’ or something similar.”
Ogador pointed to a second soldier, who raised a sword over the ferry line. “I think he threatened to cut it.”
Desperately, the ferry master tried to pull his craft back to Galbard. “Yes, that’s what he said. We must go back. My line—“
It was too late. The soldier sliced his sword down in an arc. It didn’t look like enough of a blow to part the line; maybe it was just supposed to be a warning.
In any case, the force thrummed through the taut rope the three friends were still tugging. “NO! My rope.” The distraught elf jerked frantically against his passengers. He yelled, “We’re coming back. Wait!”
The cut, however, was worse than it seemed. The rope still in his hands, Jessar felt the remaining fibers, straining under the force of the current, snap one-by-one. As the rope parted, he saw the officer cuff the sword bearer who had made the cut.
“Over the side. NOW!” Ogador shoved his friends and dove over the rail. Just as he heard a strange whistling, Jessar too plunged overboard. On the edge of his vision, he saw Stefir and Sabretha flying over the rail and something else, a blur of motion, over the wizard’s back.
None of them would ever be sure exactly what happened next, but the backlash of the line proved deadly. No longer affixed to both banks by the ferry rope, the platform swept downstream, toward Jessar. He clambered aboard the barge as it floated by. Once aboard, he fought down the bile that rose in his throat in response to the gory scene on the barge. The ferry master’s lower trunk and legs lay on the blood stained deck. Of the elf’s upper body no trace remained. So violent was the rope’s recoil that the cut end of the guide rope laid in random coils all over the planks. However, it wouldn’t be there long: The rope, still attached to the frontier bank, was rapidly paying through the guide rings.
The others joined him on the raft. The prince surveyed the mess. “That’s why we had to jump. We would be lying there beside him if we’d stayed.”
The wizard nodded in irritation. “Congratulate yourself later. If we do not secure the rope, we may not need the services of the turtle people to get to the North Veinous.”
The ferry, carried by the strong river, was rapidly reeling itself off the guide rope, which was still anchored on the northern bank and slipping through the rings at an alarming rate. Judging by their distance downriver, more than half the rope had already run out. Jessar braced himself and grasped the line. Ogador joined him and together they brought the ferry to a halt. Stefir looped two bights over the fractured end of one of the guide poles.
The river swept the ferry in a wide arc toward the northern shore. Jessar glanced at the elf’s remains questioningly.
“Help me, Jessar. The river has already claimed most of him. We will trust the good ferry master to Palin. May she see him safely to Center.”
Jessar and Ogador eased the elf into the water, which swallowed him unceremoniously.
As they stared after the body, the ferry lurched, grinding against the sandy bottom. A moment later, the raft beached itself at the end of its tether on the sands of the wilderness shore. They were several hundred strides downriver from the turtle village.
Retrieving his pack, Jessar followed his friends ashore and toward the huts. “At least the guards won’t be able to pursue us. It will take them some time to get the ferry back in commission.”
Silentwing hooted and swooped over the wizard’s shoulder. “Yes, Silentwing, the turtles are all gone now.” Stefir shook his head at Jessar. “Once we make it to Galvek, I do not believe they will trouble us anyway. Remember, the turtle ships and the villages of the turtle people are neutral territory among all the Eastern Civilizations.”
Ogador said, “Woah. Don’t the elves have any boats, Jessar?”
“Maybe, but I doubt it. Galbardians consider the Veinous to be entirely Outside. The elves of Bilaron don’t fish or travel on the Veinous, at least not very often. We have an uneasy truce with the salamander folk who live under the banks around here. Patrols and reinforcements for the border wars pass across here, of course, but they use the turtle barges.”
They followed the bank to Galvek, Jessar’s first encounter with the turtle people. Contrary to his image of such a village, no turtles basked on the sands, stretching for two hundred strides away from the river. There, at the edge of the vast frontier grasslands, stood the community’s nine huts. The turtle people had fashioned them using the shell of a giant river turtle for a roof and walls thatched with sheaves of plains grass.
Children played on the beach. Girls built sand castles while their brothers sparred with blunt spears. Aged matrons, the only adults visible, watched attentively. From one of the huts, the shouts and wagers on Chips games attested to the location and preoccupation of the male elders. From what little he knew of these people, the Lynx hadn’t expected to see any adults in their prime years: They would be on the turtle ships.
The last structure on the beachhead was a tavern of more civilized, if rustic, construction. Ogador looked at it longingly while fingering his pouch meaningfully. “It looks like we’ll spend one more night in our tents.”
“Yes, I fear so. We will certainly not be welcome in the private huts of the elders. The first turtles will not arrive for several hours. Until then, we may as well set up camp. Also, we have a few things to discuss.” Stefir gave one of his assessing glares to Jessar.
The travelers found a clearing in the wild wheat a few dozen strides upriver. As they pitched camp, Ogador watched Jessar with a mischievous smirk. “What is it? You’re looking at me as if I have something hanging out of my nose.”
The prince laughed. “No, it’s nothing hanging there. It’s just that – Jessar, this is your first time on the Veinous River, right?”
Puzzled, Jessar responded, “Yes, though I’ve been at her mouth in Plasis.”
Ogador’s smirk turned into a broad grin. He winked at Stefir. “Then we’d better find another site for the second tent tonight. What do you say to a temporary change in the sleeping arrangements tonight, Stefir?”
“Yes, I believe you are right, Ogador. After the events this morning, Jessar needs some time alone.”
Sabretha scowled. “Fine, you males can have your fun. Lynx, I hope you have fun tonight,” she spat sarcastically.
“What? What are you talking about?” he called after the Valkara as she stormed off.
“Quit pretending like you don’t know, Lynx. I’m staying in the inn tonight, and maybe I’ll have a beer,” she yelled over her shoulder.
Ogador licked his lips, but it was Stefir who commented this time, “Excitable. Jessar, do you think you will ever be able to handle her?”
The Lynx shook his head and kicked the sand. “What’s bothering her now? I didn’t say anything this time. And why are you two being so cagey?”
“Nothing,” Stefir insisted.
“Yes, nothing, Jessar, you should just enjoy your first night on the river by yourself. The flow of the water – well, it’s just an experience you should have by yourself the first time.”
Jessar marveled at his friends’ uncharacteristic agreement. What could they be up to? Ever since the start of the journey, Stefir had slept in one of the tents by himself. Today, however, Ogador marked a position some hundred strides further upstream for the tent Jessar usually shared with him, just out of eye and earshot, the Lynx noticed.
He thought about needling them further, but the wizard’s mention of the morning’s events brought up more immediate concerns. As he dug a fire pit by his friends’ tent, Jessar wondered how to broach the subject bothering him.
Stefir made it academic. “Jessar, we now know for sure: You are, or were, quite accomplished at the Art.”
“As we’ve discussed before, I can’t remember ever learning any art. The simple chants I used to control the growth of my garden were all I’ve ever known. My mother wrote down the chants, together with the formula for the growth potion, on a parchment I found in one of the kitchen cabinets.”
Ogador drove a stake with his heel. “Well, that wasn’t lightning that consumed the official’s book.”
The rare moment of agreement between the prince and wizard had obviously passed. “An astute observation, oh wise Prince.” Turning to Jessar, the wizard continued, “Of course, you must have learned the spell in Langbard. Jessar, the old elf in the hut that we saw on the Tapestry, it is critical you try to remember everything you can about him. Is there anything, anything at all, you can recall about him?”
Jessar concentrated a moment before answering. “Well, he had a mystic tome on a crude workbench of sorts, just like we saw in the Tapestry, and I – I,” Jessar could feel something breaking free from his subconscious, like the fraying rope anchoring it there was under an enormous tension. Suddenly, he felt as if another strand in the rope snapped. Having seen the consequences of the parting of some ropes, he hoped the line in his own mind wouldn’t recoil like the ferry master’s. “Yes, yes. I escaped from a … villa … at every chance I could. It seems – no this can’t be right – but what I remember is a giant snake of some kind guarding the place. Somehow I got past this snake, and I went to the elf, and he taught me things.”
Stefir nodded encouragement. “Good, good, Jessar. Now, while you still hold the thread that could unravel your memories, what did he teach you?”
Jessar sat on one of the large rocks Ogador had rolled up to their fire pit. Burying his forehead in his hands, he thought furiously for a long while. Finally, he jumped up in frustration. “No, I can’t. Everything is so dim. I don’t even remember what I said back at the border. I cast a spell I can’t even remember.” He plopped back down on the rock, shaking his head.
Stefir came over and rested his hand on the half-elf’s shoulder. “Perhaps it would help if you try to recall something else, anything.”
Sitting down wasn’t helping Jessar’s concentration, so he went back to erecting the tent. Again he thought about his dreams while he tied a guy line to Ogador’s stake. “There is one thing.”
“Yes, anything might help.”
“It’s silly really.”
“Jessar—“
“All right. I usually dream of a bedroom with a fine divan or bed, occupied by a beautiful elwen.”
Ogador chuckled. “Don’t we all?”
“It is usually only those unlucky enough not to have experienced it in their waking life.” The wizard shot Ogador an accusing look.
“No, I’m serious. The bed has silk sheets and a gauze canopy. And I always awake beneath the sheets…. The elwen herself is, well … sometimes she’s different, but she is always beautiful.”
Ogador laughed. “Not as beautiful as another you’ll soon know equally well.”
Jessar whirled around to face Ogador, who knelt behind the tent, anchoring the other pole. “Enough. What are you talking about? Sabretha?”
Stefir chuckled. “Remember what I said earlier: Do not think you will share her bed any time soon.”
At that, Ogador perked up. His smile vanished. “Oh, and why do you say that? Certainly, I would be surprised if she shared her charms with an ancient bore such as yourself, but with an intelligent, virile man—“
“Actually, Ogador, such a solowen could only give her love to one worthy of her charms. Someone more like myself.” Stefir placed his right hand on his chest and stretched his left to the horizon in oratorical fashion. “For, you see, Ogador, the Valkar are virgins. And for one of these solowen to lose that status means the end of her existence as a Valkara. So it is only natural that she would be satisfied with someone of high morals, like myself, or Jessar.” Stefir put an arm around Jessar’s shoulder.
Jessar shrugged away. “Thanks, I think.”
With their campsites set up, the friends shared lunch from the last of their supplies. They had reached the river just in time, from the logistics standpoint, at least.
“I don’t know about you two, but I’m tired of these cloaks,” Jessar said.
The Lynx dug in his backpack until he found the ‘traveling costume’ he’d bartered for over a year ago in anticipation of his journey to Silarom. Doffing Stefir’s spare cloak, he slipped on a pair of brown canvas breeches, a long-sleeved linen tunic and canvas jerkin. A pair of hard-soled ewe moccasins and ewe riding gloves completed his ensemble.
“Nice skins, Jessar,” Ogador commented, wearing his black uniform consisting of wool pants, a billowy linen shirt tied with leather, and a boiled leather jerkin.
“Actually, I think I shall keep your gardening costume, Jessar. It is imminently practical for a wizard.”
Ogador pointed to a giant river turtle swimming against the current toward the village, “Stefir, it looks like the first turtle of the day has arrived. I’ll go see if I can purchase passage to Plasis.” The prince started away but then turned back. “Next time, why don’t you rent one of your out-palaces or sell one of your useless artifacts and bring a few coins with you. The Creator knows my ancestors have paid you enough to expect a little sacrifice on your part.”
Stefir nodded. “A very good idea, Ogador. Here,” in a slight of hand or a minor dweomer perhaps, the wizard made a pouch materialize from somewhere and handed it to Ogador, “take my pouch too in case you need more.”
“Where have you been hiding this? I’ve been worrying about money all this time and you—“ The prince had loosened the drawstrings and several coppers fell out. “Stefir, this is an outrage. What would you do if I weren’t here?”
“You are welcome, Ogador. Glad to be able to help out. Jessar and I will stay here. I will try another mind probe to see if the wall around his memories has weakened.”
Ogador stormed off, tossing the pouch aside.
Stefir picked it up and it vanished under as questionable circumstances as it had appeared. “Ungrateful, is he not?”
Ignoring Stefir’s attempt to drag him into yet another argument, Jessar couldn’t help smiling at the wizard’s plan. The last time Stefir had tried in Plasis, all they discovered was that Jessar’s indenturement had been somewhere in the interior of Langbard, something that was almost a given anyway.
Maybe he’d learn more today. After all, for the first time he had remembered something significant from his past, without the aid of any spell, save perhaps his own spell at the checkpoint.
Stefir rummaged in his pack and his wizard’s smock for the necessary materials. Soon, he returned to Jessar and arrayed the items beside the rock.
As Stefir raised his finger, Jessar said, “I know; I’ve had the lecture before. Lie down and be very still.”
The Lynx stretched out. Stefir draped a tiny pneumium chain around Jessar’s head. The chronologist twisted a loop of the chain around his middle finger, holding his hand tightly against the Lynx’s forehead. He held his other hand splayed over his friend’s face before starting to move his hand in widening spirals. He dropped his voice an octave and said, “Newmaril, Newmaril lu vedagem. Kel mari vek vu aril set nulagem. Mer bekron set lamor nulagem il gorien....” The hand contracted into a fist and Jessar departed the conscious world….
When he awoke, Jessar lay by the rock. Stefir slept soundly in the adjacent tent. Ogador sat across the campfire. To the west, the sun sank below the horizon. Jessar sat up and looked at the prince with a raised eyebrow.
“No,” Ogador said, “he was already asleep when I returned. I did, however, book passage on a turtle, although I’ll have to visit the consulate in Veinous City to pay the balance of our fares. The master’s name is Almek. He carried a cargo of arms for delivery here and was pleased to find return passengers. We depart at sunrise.”
“Good.”
Ogador yawned enormously and rose, stretching. “You know, Jessar, I’m a little tired myself. I believe I’ll go ahead and hit my bedroll, too.”
While Jessar looked on in surprise, the prince crawled into his tent and pulled the flap down. Only sunset and both his friends were already in bed.
Leaving the fire to burn itself out, he tromped to his own tent. He was so impatient to talk to Stefir about anything the wizard might have learned. If the wizard woke up, Jessar might not notice as far away as his tent was. And why was he so far away from his friends anyway? Every time he’d asked, he realized too late, his friends had artfully changed the subject.
He tried lying down, but, unlike his friends, he couldn’t sleep. Sighing, he crawled out of his tent and stood staring at the river. He could just make out the pines on the far bank in the twilight. Behind him, the wild oats of the southern frontier rustled in the wind. Frogs started croaking their melancholy tune at the water’s edge. A fish leaped out of the water, landing with a twisted-tail splash.
The river: He’d swam in its waters briefly today, and she beckoned to him now. He crossed the expanse of beach to stand at the edge. The southerly breeze from Galbard propelled the water in wavelets that lapped gently at his feet.
Twilight gave way to moonlight. The moon cast its glow across the waters. And She came.
The breeze died suddenly, and the river’s smooth surface reflected the moon’s rays. A tiny shadow grew in the east, and, as the shadow drew swiftly near, a tiny silhouette appeared on the moon. Gradually, the indistinct shadow became a figure striding on the water. The shape came steadily closer, bearing distinctive curves that marked her female.
The female glided to stand just a few feet in front of Jessar. She was elwen, or partially, anyway. Tall and lithe, with the pointed ears of an elwen, she nevertheless stood on the water as easily as Jessar stood on the bank. Something about her made her more desirable than he’d ever imagined any female could be in a lustful way.
In the now full moonlight, Jessar saw the cascading red hair that constituted her only adornment. It fell down the front of her smooth, bronze-tanned shoulders in two shining bundles. Tumbling over and partially concealing full, taut breasts, the tawny waterfall swept over her flawlessly smooth belly. The two streams of her hair then flowed together between the perfect feminine curves of her loins before again dividing into two braided ropes. The braids, conforming to the delicate curves of her derriere, continued in a graceful arc that wrapped around her waist. Just below her navel, an auburn knot secured the self-fashioned sarong. The loose ends of her hair dangled enticingly above her femaleness.
Jessar stared at her unearthly beauty, ashamed of his wanton attention. She, however, basked in his admiration and spun in a fluid circle before his appreciative stare. She spread her arms unabashedly, straining her breasts against the twin rivers of hair.
“Jessar, I am Palin the River Goddess, and I come to welcome you to my waters.” Her voice carried a sultry demureness and the faint tinkling quality of a silvery fountain on a still day.
She held out her right hand and beckoned for him to join her on the river. Entranced by the maiden’s beauty, he could hardly resist. But then he remembered, “Sabretha?”
“She will understand, Jessar. I welcomed her long ago. She knows my nature.” Palin smiled, and Jessar’s concern faded.
His heart melted in desire, and, knowing he would walk over burning coals to join her, her insistence that he walk on water seemed a trivial thing. He was unsurprised when the water sprang resiliently beneath his step. The only thing that mattered was to walk out and take her hand.
When he did, the tanned skin of her long fingers felt unnaturally smooth in his own gardener’s hand, and her flesh was as cool as a spring mountain freshet.
“Come, Jessar, to the bosom of my river.” The waters below their feet flowed to her command, carrying the two toward the center of the channel.
Palin untied her hair, and it fell to the sides of her luscious ankles. She reclined on the surface of the waters, and stared into his eyes. “Will you drink of my waters?”
Later, Jessar and Palin sat on the bank. The goddess leaned back on her hands, seemingly unaware of how sexy her pose looked. “You have loved many others, Jessar.”
He plopped down on the ground. “Do you mean my dreams? All the elwen in the villa?”
Palin laughed. “Of course, all of them. You are, after all, male.”
Jessar shook his head. “Hmmm. You say love, Palin, but so far I think all my intimacies have been lust.”
The Lynx instantly regretted his remark, as Palin’s smile dissolved into a pout and her eyes filled with tears.
“Palin, I’m sorry. I have a way of saying such thoughtless things to females.”
“Yes, you have, but your heart shines through ultimately. Do not fear; she has already forgiven you, as have I.”
“Huh? How do you know she has forgiven me? And if she has, then why is she still ignoring me?”
“Stefir is right about you; you have so many questions.”
The Lynx looked at her in surprise, shocked that she knew so much.
“Jessar, one thing you must learn about us females: We may say we forgive, but we never forget.” Palin laughed, and even that, in the way that she threw back her head, exposing her sculpted neck, made her irresistibly tantalizing.
“Why do you do this Welcoming?”
The goddess shrugged, “It is my nature, Jessar. I am the patron of the Veinous River. Since I no longer enjoy the Rapture of Beyond, this duty of mine to welcome visitors to my river is, you might say, recompense the Creator permits me.”
“Okay, but why of all the deities only you are Here?”
Palin laughed again. For anyone else it would have been patronizing, but, for the Goddess, it seemed as natural as her lack of proper clothing. Like everything else about her, it only made her all the more desirable. “Hundreds of millennia ago, before the Meteor Devastation, before the Technology Laws, I abided in Beyond, along with all of my brothers and sisters except the Evil One. From Beyond, I looked out on the Creator’s universe, that which you call Here, and marveled at the worlds of his creation. After the Meteor Strike, in the Reshaping, this world became particularly attractive to me. So, of all the gems scattered throughout the heavens, to me this one – Talan – glittered like a diamond among gravel. And of Talan, this river is what gave the diamond its sparkle. Even in Beyond, I grew melancholy in my desire for this place. To look but not touch seemed an unfair sentence.”
“Meteor Devastation? Reshaping? These are things I don’t know.”
Palin smiled and patted Jessar’s hand. “Ask Stefir, he can explain it to you better than I.”
“Okay, so what happened?”
“The Creator took mercy at my tears and permitted me to come here because of my love for this river and the lands it drained.”
Jessar squeezed her hand. “I don’t understand all of what you told me, but I think that’s the most amazing case of dedication I’ve ever heard – the kind I’ve always dreamed of having with a female.”
For a moment, a trace of sadness crossed her features and she glanced longingly at the stars overhead. “Thanks, Jessar. I cannot, of course, return to Beyond. At least not until the end of this Cycle of Creation, whenever that should come to pass. As for your dream of having a faithful relationship with a female, your nature guarantees that will happen if you but love the proper female.”
“And would that female be Sabretha?”
Palin closed her eyes for a moment. “There are many futures where that is possible, Jessar.”
“How do you know that?”
“Jessar, I am a goddess, the River Goddess,” she said, with a hurt look.
“I sure have a way of fouling things up. Sorry again. It’s just that you are so easy to talk to it’s hard to remember you are a goddess.”
She turned her gaze back to the river. “Yes, I suppose so. I gave up most of my powers to come here. I have no worshipers, at least in the usual sense.” She giggled girlishly. “My life is tied now to this river, and I cannot go far or long from it or I will perish forever. So you see, quite literally, this river has become my life.” She immersed her hand into the water at her feet and dripped a few drops over her closed eyes.
She fell silent for a moment, staring at the water with an expectant look. A turtle crawled from the river onto the bank near her. She took something from its mouth.
The goddess turned to the Lynx. “Jessar, for the first time in my long life here on Talan, I had a purpose other than welcoming someone to my river. I also came to give you this.” She held out her hand. In her palm another of the cubical stones like the ones Maili and the Roving Prophet had given him sparkled, refracting moonlight from the star chart within the depths of the stone.
He accepted it with a “thank you” and placed it in his buttoned pocket with his other two.
Palin looked at Jessar in plaintive sadness. “Most of you here on Talan are always so grave and serious. Something must always be done. Seldom do you come to my waters only to frolic. For you, Jessar, this is especially true. You already know you have an enormous part in this great act of the play of the ages. It is a part you cannot hope to master without aid, however. That is why the Gods gave that stone into my keeping, that I would, at your Welcoming, give it to you. It is their piece of the puzzle.”
“Why did the Gods not simply give it to me themselves?”
Palin laughed again. “And what am I?”
Jessar blushed and stammered. “I, ah … I meant….”
Palin took Jessar’s ring hand between her own. “Oh, Jessar. I have welcomed you: I know your thoughts now, just as I know those of all the others I have welcomed.”
Jessar’s blush deepened.
“Jessar, you know the Gods cannot assume shape here. They’re subject to their own Divine Laws, after all. And those aren’t laws of convenience like many of your peoples have adopted. They are not to be broken at the slightest provocation and with punishment meted out only to those who are caught or proven guilty. No, the disobedience of one of those Laws would unbind the very fabric of the universe, and all that is would cease, at least for this Cycle. The laws are immutable, as constant as the invisible laws governing all you take for granted.” She swept a shapely arm around her.
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
She faced Jessar again, saying his name in a way that seemed like a song of joy. “Jessar, what would happen if a raindrop refused to fall? If it just stayed in the clouds? And then what would happen if more of its brothers did this same thing?”
Jessar knew her question was rhetorical. With the Goddess staring into his eyes, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted the answer.
Palin turned back to stare at the river, breaking the spell. “So, you see, the Divine Laws are immutable, at least for the present and most futures. When I came to Talan, the Divine Consortium asked me to bring that stone with me and to deliver it at the proper time to the proper person. It was a thing they were not willing to trust to any one avatar.”
Jessar had known the Gods could not bodily visit Talan. Some of them had avatars for that very reason: To carry out worldly missions beyond the ability of the Gods’ followers or for those errands they were unwilling to trust to their followers. “But how do you know I am the one?”
“Jessar, I am the River Goddess.”
Her statement confused the Lynx. What did being the River Goddess have to do with knowing whether Jessar was the proper person to receive the star stone?
The Lynx found it harder and harder to concentrate with the Goddess looking at him in her provocative way. He shook his head to clear it. “Palin, these stones you and the others have given me: You said they are an aid, but I don’t know what they do or how to use them.”
Sensing her own distracting affect, Palin again turned back to the river. “Many things are hidden to me, Jessar. I have forgotten much of the Creator’s plan for this Cycle, things I knew before coming here. And I am no longer party to the Council of the Gods. Suffice it to say that the Creator has put into place safeguards against those who seek to divert affairs of the universe from their natural course. Mutable Variables I think he called them. Anyway, these stones may well be examples of these safeguards. I cannot remember for sure. This much I do know: If you but mouth the name of the appropriate star with the corresponding stone in your hand, its powers will be invoked, if you know of and have need for them. Maili—“
Wait, only he, his companions, and Maili’s household knew he had been there. How could Palin know? “Excuse me. I know you are a goddess, but how do you know of Maili and his gift?”
She laughed her crystalline laugh again. “Males are always like this: Unable to prevent passion from coloring their every act and thought. Always it clouds their minds. Hmmm, maybe that’s why I cherish them so.” She placed a sculptured fingernail to her teeth.
“No matter,” she continued, shaking her head, “Have you not listened? I know the minds of all I have welcomed, when I so choose. I do not often have the opportunity to welcome the proud mariners of the Sundered Isle. As for Maili, however, I welcomed him to my river shortly after the sea currents stranded him on the shores of Galbard. Ledrana brought him to me, hoping he would fall in love with the land and stay. The poor girl. She didn’t know he already loved her and would have stayed anyway.”
“You males are so transparent. Females have but to open their eyes to see that. If my sisters on Talan ever took advantage of their perpetual allure to males, the females could run the world. Why they should choose to do so, however, should be the question. Why should they? Already they wield enough influence to have what they will. To actually rule the counsels of males would, after all, take away the very thing that gives males their self-esteem: what it is that makes them so … male.”
She laughed yet again. “But I wander. As I was about to say, Maili told you all that he knows of his stone, that it has powers over the Sea Serpents. I think that is enough. I know no more. As for the stone of the prophet — No, again, I cannot help you, and I am sorry. As with most of the prophets,” she frowned, “he I have not welcomed to my river. They stay away at night. Stefir has, however, told you the information you need. The powers of a ranger are many, but I’m certain you will know when to use it. Just remember this: Your heart must, on occasion, override your mind. It is a difficult concept for most males, but it is nevertheless true.”
“Thanks, Palin. But what of the stone you gave me?”
The goddess took Jessar’s hand again, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus his attention on her words much longer. Her natural fragrance threatened to overwhelm him. He forced himself to concentrate as she spoke again. “Of the stone I gave you, I know little, except that its powers are triggered by my own star name.”
He looked at her in surprise. “Yes, I, too, have a patron star, as do all Arien’s races who live out their lives here. The last thing I know is that your use of my cube will enlarge my domain.”
“But Palin, you haven’t shared your star name with me.”
Palin pouted, and he immediately regretted what he’d said, though he didn’t know why. “Do you think, Jessar, I would give myself so lightly? Do I seem like the kind of girl who would do that without sharing her star name?” She bowed her head and stared at her hands.
Of course he knew. How could he not realize that he had known her star name from the moment he’d held her? He didn’t know how he knew, since he didn’t remember her telling him, but her star was Lunivia, the brightest star in the heavens, the loins of the Virgin constellation. Jessar leaned over the silently sobbing goddess and brushed a tear from the corner of her eye.
Palin’s characteristic smile returned and, without raising her exquisite face, she peered at Jessar through her eyelashes in a coquettish, wet-eyed look that pushed Jessar over the edge of temptation into the chasm of desire. “Also, there is another stone very close to you now, a stone that will bestow the powers of the mightiest warrior. Unfortunately, I cannot tell you more about it without violating the trust of another I welcomed long ago, someone very dear to you.”
“I see. I’m a little worried that I’ll move on before I find the stone.”
“Do not fear, Lynx, you will most certainly find it, even if it’s not right away.”
The Lynx shook his head. “I don’t understand, but how can I doubt the word of a goddess?”
Her girlish giggle returned. “Jessar, you are surprisingly carefree for one with Tasks ahead. Promise me you’ll retain that quality. And remember, sometimes you must follow your emotional impulses despite what reason tells you.”
He nodded and smiled. He knew there were dozens of questions he should be asking this goddess, who knew the minds of all she had welcomed, but he couldn’t think clearly in her presence. Trying to think what he should be asking, he could only consider how overwhelming the last few days had been. Though she also now knew his every thought, Jessar was grateful she allowed him at least the illusion of privacy by waiting for his next question. “Why me?”
Again, Palin blessed him with her gaze. She was, Jessar summarized mentally, all that was female. Even the way she blinked her eyes exuded an unintended seductive quality. She could no more help her continuous allure than the raindrop she had mentioned earlier could help its falling. Yes, Jessar understood at least one of the laws Palin lived by, and a subtle bat of her lashes confirmed his suspicions. His pulse and something more primeval rose as he looked upon her immaculate beauty.
She shrugged. “Why not you? After all, someone must be the first to the top of the mountain, if it is ever to be climbed. But know something else. So far, the things happening around you haven’t affected you. Don’t let yourself be flattered by all the Prophecy; retain your innocence and modesty. If you are to succeed at your part in this play of the ages, you will become great, but if you become great in your own mind, you will fail. And if you fail at the Tasks ahead, this age will drag on. Many will suffer and die that otherwise would not, and some may never exist who otherwise would.”
“But the puzzle before me has so many pieces, Palin. How am I to put it together?”
“As hard as it is to believe right now, Jessar, you’ve seen much less than the proverbial tip of the iceberg.”
The Lynx leaned his chin on his chest and his shoulders slumped in disappointment. “I just don’t know if I’m up to it.”
She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Jessar, look at me.” She pulled his chin up and stared into his eyes. “You are up to it. Trust me, I am a goddess, as you yourself pointed out a moment ago. Do not despair; you have friends, and they will help you in solving the great puzzle. You are not the only actor in this play of the ages.”
“Okay, I’ll take your word for it, but, as an academic matter, what would happen if I and the other actors do fail?”
“As Stefir has said, the Reign of Chaos will begin.”
Jessar hung his head again, but Palin patted his knee. “Jessar, do you have no faith in the Creator? Be careful, you are at risk of overestimating your importance. This is, after all, only a single age. As you said not too long ago, if you aren’t the ant who completes rebuilding the anthill, another will come. The Creator is very wise, and the circumstances of his Prophecies will come to exist again. Just as everything around you,” Palin scanned the horizon with her aquamarine eyes, “mimics, in its own minute way, the pattern of the universe itself, the answer to the puzzle of Prophecy is scribed on every piece, for those who are wise enough to read it. So, if you do fail, many will suffer, but there will come another. And whether that other will fail or succeed … who can tell?”
The goddess turned smiling to Jessar again, and his heart swelled with barely controlled desire. “But for us, Jessar, we will hope that you succeed.”
Somehow he found her words comforting: To know that the fate of Talan did not rest solely on his shoulders. He pulled her to her feet, and led her out onto the water.
Palin laughed her winsome laugh, and everything was right again. “Jessar, you are not the only one who needs welcoming on this fair night, and there is another female not far away who will already be quite jealous. May my brother Arien bless you.”
She let go his hand, turned in her divinely graceful way and walked out over the river to the west. In the mysterious way of a goddess, the distance she covered vastly outpaced her feminine paces. Soon, she disappeared over the horizon as the moon set.