The Book of the Blessed

They rode together, silent for some time and, at last, Wolf held out his hand.

“Yes?” Myrne said, wondering if he was attempting to hold her hand.

“If we’re traveling together, you won’t be needing those coins… And I think I will.”

“Oh,” Myrne said, caught off guard, and feeling herself go red. “But of course.”

Reaching into her sack, she pulled out the coins, but now Wolf burst out laughing.

“The look on your face!” He shook his head.

He just kept laughing as they traveled the rough road winding around the high grassed valley.

“You’re sort of a cad,” Myrne discovered.

Wolf looked as if he were thinking this over and figuring out how he felt about it.

“You may be right,” he said, looking delighted, and so they rode on.

The Everdeen District

“Friend, are you working tonight?” Ash said to Pol.

Pol, looking clearly drunk and flushed, threw his arms about Ash.

“I love this man,” he said. “He’s a beautiful man, and a courtly man. May all the Gods bless you, Ash. He says, ‘Am I working tonight?’ As if I were a bartender, or server or a dairyman getting the carts ready for the morning.”

Pol stood up, throwing one arm about Ash and another about Anson.

“But, my lords, I am a working man, and work I must.”

“Come to the palace you must,” Anson differed, “now that you’ve seen it. Now that Ash is here. Things were dull before. They’re about to improve, I’m sure.”

“Just because of me?” Ash affected humility.

“My Prince, I’m a working man. Whatever that work.”

“How can you be friends with a Prince of Westrial and ever worry if you’ll have a roof over your head?”

Now Pol looked more serious than he had before, and he said, “Then it is not about the work, but about standing on my own two feet.”

“I thought it was about lying on your back,” Anson countered.

Ash said, “If I set such a charm upon you that you need not worry about that, that such gold will come to you that you might spend this night with us when we ask you to remain, might you reconsider?”

Pol looked at Ash as if he was not sure this was possible and, he had seen no magic from the enchanter, but at last, after a sigh, the smile not departing from his face, he said, “If you allow me to change, then I will accompany you.”

They were walking a block or so before Anson spoke as they entered the Great Square.

“I was going into the Cathedral,” Anson pointed across the street. “Shall we meet you back here in an hour?”

“Aye,” Pol said, saluting him smartly, and turning down Reed Street in the direction of the Red District.

“What a spirited soul,” Ash noted as they walked toward the great façade of purple and white stone, the two tall towers on either side of it.

“It is a good thing I left my staff,” Ash said. “I feel too wizardly for such a place.”

“But it is fair,” Anson said, whispering, even though they were feet away from the three great doors that led into the sanctuary.

Breaking through the noise of the streets, came a more organized noise. Chanting. Men and women in lose white robes and rose colored scarves, all with wooden beads about their necks, many with bangles hanging from their wrists. They bore aloft the blue image of a deity, and as they passed they sang:

Ahna Ahnar ahna Ahnar
Ahnar Ahnar ahna ahna
ahna āmar ahna āmar
āmar āmar ahna ahna

“They’ve been all over the place since the war,” Anson said.

“They are the Ahnarata,” Ash said. “They are not new, but they are new to Westrial.”

“And it seems ever since we ended the last war with the Daumans, this is what people want.”

“The Age of Love.”

“Eh?”

“The Age of Love,” Ash said. “An old prophecy in Royan lands, now spoken here by the followers of Ifandell Modet. After the Age of War will come the Age of Love. Ahnar is to usher it in.”

“Ahnar,” Anson noted as the party passed them, “is a god I do not know.”

“You do,” Ash said. “He is another form of Varayan or Adaon, the incarnation of Varayan as Lord of Love. Here, in Westrial, the form of Varayan people know is Ard, the Wise One of the New Faith. His time may be ending, though, or at least being added to. Wisdom without love can only go so far.”

By pushing the great doors, they entered the great abbey which was on the same level as the street and had the same flagstones within as those without. But the weight of the wooden doors shut city noise and city head out, and beyond the latticed screens that were the height of half a man and defined the narthex, they saw the nave was filled, but not full.

“Or rather,” Ash whispered, “Wisdom cannot be wisdom if it does not, at last, bear love.”

But their careful reflection was interrupted by the sight of two people they had never expected to see in the Purplekirk. They were not robed in their ordinary trousers or the sensuous sheer fitting pants, but in long hooded blue robes, their hands folded into the sleeves. Still, they were a little too young and a little too handsome for the average monk and Anson rejoiced in the faces of the black haired Derek Annakar and the red headed and mild Gabriel Rokomont.

“Here to join the evening prayer?” Ash raised an eyebrow.

Gabriel almost laughed out loud and pressed up his brass rimmed spectacles. and the handsome and sharp faced Derek gave a hooked grin.

The nave of the abbey was long and wide, and the monks gathered at the back under the enormous rounded dome. This was the oldest part of Purplekirk, and a temple unto itself. The long nave had shot out over the years for the people, and become statelier still when the Basilica of the Purple had become Kingsboro Abbey, the national cathedral.

“We are here,” Derek said, “because Conn told us you would be here.”

“His gift has strengthened,” Ash said.

“Because you have helped him strengthen it. Hyrum says it is nearly time for us to leave the main temple, to strike out and found our own House under Conn. It will be like the places of old, before the Blue Mages and Blue Priests were split up, for…” and Derek’s voice was even lower, “we all have the Gift. We all can see. We all… can do things.”

“Derek, you told me none of this,” Anson said. “None of you did,” he turned to Gabriel.

“That’s because my lord no longer comes to the Blue Temple,” Gabriel said, pushing up his glasses, and if there was an accusation here, Gabriel smiled inoffensively when he said it.

“Connleth asks word of the King’s health,” Derek continued, “and wonders how we shall fair should Cedd take the throne soon.”

Anson turned to Ash, and Ash said, “He will take the throne sooner than he thought, and you will fair better than you hoped.”

That was a witchly answer and they were all witchly people, so Derek Annakar nodded to this..

There were other people coming in and out of the great minster, some looking around, some sitting in pews to be quiet and alone, and so the knot of men at the opening of the great kirk were not noticed.

Gabriel said, “Conn has dreamed of other things. Things beyond a new king. Wars again, but even… of monsters in the sea. Of the earth opening up. Of magic things long dead and forgotten coming to life again.”

“I…” Anson confessed, and as he did, understood that the others around him were in the same condition, “have had… feelings. A change in the air.”

“The air is very much about to change,” Ash said, not sounding very mystical at all. “When you see Connleth, remind him of what I said three years ago, that when I come calling, he must be ready. You all must be ready.”

Gabriel nodded and Derek nodded so fiercely that a lock of his black hair fell into his green eyes. This was an end to a meeting, and the men clasped each other tightly and then kissed each other on both cheeks and Derek and Gabriel, pulled their hoods over their heads and went back out into the day.

The high nave was easily the length of a couple of streeth blocks and the width of one as well. Now, Anson noted that along the walls of the naves, men were decorating, for anyone who wanted to worship near the monks was further up by the altar.

“Mama ek avasthāvaka bhāgyavatun

isipatana taragaya rækavaraṇaya dī baraṇæsa

dī ræn̆dī siṭi bava mā asā æta. ehi dī ohu

bhikṣūn vahansēlā pas kaṇḍāyama amatā:?

"kumana dekak liṁgika vastūn vaṭama

in̆duran pinavīmaṭa æti kirīmaṭa niyama

kara æti bava piṭataṭa giya kenek visin

vædagæmmak nohækiyi mē anta dekak tibē:.

padanama, grāmya, podu, ignoble,

læbūvada samahara viṭeka,

hā æti vē svayaṁ-duk pīḍā kirīmaṭa…”

One of the monks in his long black robe was reciting in the midst of his brethren and the other people gathered for the evening recitation. Now he leaned forward, taking a staff and striking a bell which resounded through the space. As he sat, and as Anson made the sign of blessing, and sat down, Ash sitting beside him, far from everyone else, now the monks began to chant:

“kæpa: vēdanākārī insoblevada,

læbūvada samahara

viṭeka mē anta dekama,

mē Ard visin avabōdha mæda mārgaya

kirīsamana væḷakīma - dækma niṣpādanaya,

dænuma niṣpādanaya –

ṛju dænuma kirīmaṭa,

svayaṁ-pibidīmaṭat kirīmaṭa,

Unvininh kirīmaṭa, sansun

kirīmaṭa yomu karayi…”

Over and over again, for the love of the world the Gods came into it, in the ancient days as themselves, but then as great sorcerers and heroes, mightier than most men. Lastly, it was believed, some came as teachers. So it was with he who was called Annatar, Adaon, Tammusan and Varayan. So he had come as Ard, the Great Teacher. In his youth, Ard had lived as a beautiful and well pampered man, but he was sorrowful because he had no wisdom. Then, when he learned the great wisdom, he wished to keep it to himself, but the Gods had come to him and, not commanding, as was their right, but begging, they had requested he give his teachings. Amana Goddess of the Earth had fallen on her knees for him. Tethys, Goddess of the Sea had cast dust in her hair for him. Addiwak and Maia had made such a show that Ard was moved past his fears and wept, and when he opened his mouth, this was the teaching that came:

Dænuma niṣpādanaya, dækma niṣpādanaya—"

ē Ard visin vaṭahā mæda māvata kumak

ṛju dænuma kirīmaṭa, svayaṁ-pibidīmaṭat

kirīmaṭa, Unbinding hariyaṭama mē ārya

aṣṭāṁgika mārgaya veta, sansun kirīmaṭa

yomu karayi:, niværadi dækma ayitiya

adhiṣṭhānaya, niværadi jīvanamārgaya.

Ash looked to his friend and kinsman and saw that Anson’s lips were moving right along with the chanting. When Anson turned to him there were tears in his eyes and he wiped them away very quickly.

“I’m such a fool,” Anson whispered. “A man of such contrary affections.”