The Book of the Blue House

Gabriel Speaks

Though all ordained into the Blue Priesthood are, aderfia, brothers, there are several grades of the priesthood and many paths, the first grade being that of hieros through which all priests past and the second and third having to do with ritual performances and prayers. The fourth grade, to which most never attain, is that of mage and loremaster. Between the third and the fourth degrees is that of Shonakae, the Azul Ierateíon who is trained in telling the ancient stories…

- from the notes of Adeltos Derek Annakar

They had one of their late nights because everyone wasn’t present for lunch. Sara had given herself to kitchen work that day and Nialla had gone to Purplekirk to be with Jon. Lorne had worked in the Blue Rooms all morning until three in the afternoon when he came back and slept before bathing, and Derek had been attending in the sanctuary and then studying with Gabriel. That night, the teacher Polycarin had come to the Temple and they had all gathered in one of the great hearing rooms to listen to him. He had talked about the teachings of the great Ifandell Modet and the coming of the Age of Love and while he talked, Derek, interested as he was, yawned and thought about what Cal had told him of this morning’s meeting at the palace.

Conn said, as much to not hear anymore about Polycarin, as for actual curiosity, “Gabriel, you told us the story of why the Red Door is the Red Door, but what of the Black and the White?”

Gabriel looked utterly surprised to be addressed by Conn and blinked through his glasses in pleasure. Conn thought Gabriel high and beautiful and lofty, and had no idea that Gabriel thought the same of him and had never expected the tawny haired and caramel skinned young man to directly speak to him.

“The story of the White Door, yes,” Cal said, sitting up and ruining whatever was about to come from Gabriel’s mouth.

“Will you tell it, Gabriel?” Nialla begged, clasping Conn’s hands. “He is the most marvelous storyteller.”

“Gabriel is a Shonekae,” Derek said, precisely, and Conn had no idea what that was until he continued, “He tells the holy stories in the formal and sacred ways. Will you tell this one truly, as it is supposed to be told and not just a paraphrase.”

Gabriel cleared his throat. Priests they always were, but he had wanted a conversation with Conn, to talk to him for once, and now they were all looking at him, and Quinton was saying, “Oh, yes, the Old Stories, in the old way,” and folding his good leg under the crippled one while, beside Matteo, he sat up properly.

So there was nothing for it.

“Now let us praise the Lord of Love,” Gabriel began, raising a hand and lifting his eyes, “And let us praise the holy families of the High Gods. Blessed be the Anyar and the Vanyar, and Blessed be the Mahran. And praised be the Avayan, the avatars of the Holy Gods who come into the world, and blessed, blessed, blessed be the Amanyar, the Seven Great Avatars of the Gods.

“Praised also be the Nassisti in Heaven, and bless we all the Nayavaran on the Earth, those mighty and divine spirits, and blessed be their first children, the spirits of the mountains, and the waters and the forest and most blessed be their last children, older than the race of men, called the Elves, the Fair Folk, the Erl and the Shidhe. Of their race have come the Gods as well, and from them in time was born the Holy Aengus.”

Before ever the foot of man touched this land, it was reserved for the children of the children of the Gods, who are the Fair Folk, and it was called Ancharan, the Fairest Heart, from whence came, in time, the name of Ynkarando.

There was a famous king of Ancharan

All the world had heard about her, however; and the young heroes in the lands nearest to Arkady, which is lost beneath the western waves, did nothing else but talk about her beauty and her grace and her swiftness of foot and her courage. Of course every one of these young fellows wanted her to become his wife; and she might have been a queen any day if she had only said the word, for the richest king in The Lost Lands would have been glad to marry her. But she cared nothing for any of the young men, and she liked the freedom of the green woods better than all the fine things she might have had in a palace.

The young men would not take “No!” for an answer, however. They could not believe that she really meant it, and so they kept coming and staying until the woods of Arkady, which is lost beneath the western waves, were full of them, and there was no getting along with them at all. So, when she could think of no other way to get rid of them, Teassara called them together and said:

“You want to marry me, do you? Well, if any one of you would like to run a race with me from this mountain to the bank of the river over there, he may do so; and I will be the wife of the one who outruns me.”

“Agreed! agreed!” cried all the young fellows.

“But, listen!” said she, “whoever tries this race must also agree that if I outrun him, he must lose his life.”

Ah, what long faces they all had then! About half of them drew away and went home.

“But won’t you give us the start of you a little?” asked the others.

“Oh, yes,” she answered. “I will give you the start by a hundred paces. But remember, if I overtake any one before he reaches the river, he shall lose his head that very day.”

Several others now found that they were in ill health or that business called them home; and when they were next looked for, they were not to be found. But a good many who had had some practice in sprinting across the country stayed and made up their minds to try their luck. Could a mere girl outrun such fine fellows as they? Nonsense!

And so it happened that a race was run almost every day. And almost every day some poor fellow lost his head; for the fleetest-footed sprinter in all The Lost Lands was overtaken by Teassara long before he could reach the river bank. But other young men kept coming and coming, and no sooner had one been put out of the way than another took his place.

One day there came from a distant town a handsome, tall young man named Aengus.

“You’d better not run with me,” said Teassara, “for I shall be sure to overtake you, and that will be the end of you.”

“We’ll see about that,” said Aengus.

Now Aengus, before coming to try his chance, had talked with Amana, the the Desirable One, who lived with her sisters among the clouds on the mountain top. And he was so handsome and gentle and wise that Amana took pity on him. and gave him three golden apples and told him what to do.

Well, when all was ready for the race, Teassara tried again to persuade Aengus not to run, for she also took pity on him.

“I’ll be sure to overtake you,” she said.

“All right!” said Aengus, and away he sped; but he had the three golden applies in his pocket.

Teassara gave him a good start, and then she followed after, as swift as an arrow shot from the bow. Aengus was not a very fast runner, and it would not be hard for her to overtake him. She thought that she would let him get almost to the goal, for she really pitied him. He heard her coming close behind him; he heard her quick breath as she gained on him very fast. Then he threw one of the golden apples over his shoulder.

Now, if there was anything in the world that Teassara admired, it was a bright stone or a pretty piece of yellow gold. As the apple fell to the ground she saw how beautiful it was, and she stopped to pick it up; and while she was doing this, Aengus gained a good many paces. But what of that? In a minute she was as close behind him as ever. And yet, she really did pity him.

Just then Aengus threw the second apple over his shoulder. It was handsomer and larger than the first, and Teassara could not bear the thought of allowing some one else to get it. So she stopped to pick it up from among the long grass, where it had fallen. It took somewhat longer to find it than she had expected, and when she looked up again Aengus was a hundred feet ahead of her. But that was no matter. She could easily overtake him. And yet, how she did pity the foolish young man!

Aengus heard her speeding like the wind behind him. He took the third apple and threw it over to one side of the path where the ground sloped towards the river. Teassara’s quick eye saw that it was far more beautiful than either of the others. If it were not picked up at once it would roll down into the deep water and be lost, and that would never do. She turned aside from her course and ran after it. It was easy enough to overtake the apple, but while she was doing so Aengus gained upon her again. He was almost to the goal. How she strained every muscle now to overtake him! But, after all, she felt that she did not care very much. He was the handsomest young man that she had ever seen, and he had given her three golden apples. It would be a great pity if he should have to die. And so she let him reach the goal first.

After that, of course, Teassara became Aengus’s lady and he lived in her bright halls as her prince. On their wedding day, she placed two of the golden apples in a secret chest, which would be passed from daughter to daughter in all her line, even when the Lost Lands sank beneath the waves. The third apple, however, she and Aengus planted on the spot where there were wed, and from this apple grew Televernon, the White Tree. She was the beginning of the White Forest, though which many traveled to be purifed, and others to be renewed, and in time from the forest was taken the tree, Adelu from which is carved the White Door. And that is the tale of the White Tree, and Aengus the Lord of Love had many more adventures, but this one, for now, is done. Amen and Amen I have told the tale. I have told the tale, Amen.”