Speaking Bones, page 71
“It’s no use to envy others when we each have our gifts,” said Adyulek. “You can no more force your voice to be free of the sounds of your native tongue than I can erase the scars of my youth from my flesh. But remember, you came to us as a stranger and dissolved our sorrow. What does it matter if you cannot speak of your own deeds like a child of the scrublands? You wear the garinafin skull helmet; you hold the garinafin antler signaling spears; you are named in Takval’s spirit portrait. We who have fought and stood by you will add our voices to yours. I was there; I witnessed the moment Takval’s blood and breath fused with yours.”
After her heart had finally calmed, Théra held out her hands to the old shaman. “Thank you.”
Then, after a pause, “You speak of adding your voice to mine. Does this mean you—” She didn’t finish.
“After you told me of your vision, I prayed to the Every-Mother many times for guidance.”
“And she asked you to support me?” Théra’s heart felt close to bursting.
Adyulek shook her head. Théra’s heart sank.
“She gave no answer at all,” said Adyulek. “The path you wish the Agon to walk is new. Like the fog-shrouded beginning of the Sixth Age, the gods do not provide answers when the answers must be found by the people themselves.”
Théra waited, cautioning herself against hope.
“I fear and trust the gods, votan, but sometimes that isn’t enough,” said Adyulek. “I believe your unfamiliar accent will lead the Agon into a new age, in the same way the bold Afir and Kikisavo led the people of the scrublands into a new way of life.”
“I…” Théra couldn’t finish. The pékyu and the shaman embraced. Surely that was how Afir and Kikisavo had embraced before setting forth on their journey to find a path where there had been none.
Théra spent the rest of the night walking among the tanto-lyu-naro, inquiring after their travels. For a long time she did this, taking pleasure in their tales of wonder. Her only disappointment was that no one could recall seeing two children matching her description—she had hoped that the wanderers would have good news.
At last, it was time for Théra to depart. Before retiring for the night, however, she wanted to visit the gravesite of Thoryo in one of the sheltered canyons below the tall cliff.
“I’d like to tell her that her words didn’t fall on deaf ears,” said Théra.
Adyulek did not join her. She still found the notion of being buried under the earth rather than undergoing pédiato savaga abhorrent.
“Don’t exhaust yourself,” said Adyulek. “You must get plenty of rest tonight.”
Théra nodded. A grand political performance awaited her on the morrow. “Are you going to sleep now?”
“I’ll stay a bit longer among the tanto-lyu-naro. They have stories about the gods and heroes of old that I’ve never heard before, and I never tire of learning new stories about Afir and Kikisavo.”
Théra smiled. “I hope to remain as curious as you when I’m your age.”
Adyulek smiled back. “It’s the only interesting way to live.”
Théra offered to leave Tipo Tho and a few naros behind to guard her, but the old shaman declined. Months after their defeat, there was little concern that the remnants of the Lyucu would dare to assault Taten. And no one could conceive of any act of ill will toward an old shaman from the pacifist wanderers.
“Good night, votan.”
“Good night, Tongue-of-the-Every-Mother.”
Neither noticed the pair of baleful eyes that glared at them from the flickering shadows by a bonfire.
* * *
“I was not born of Gondé; I had to become Agon….”
Théra began the banquet by recounting the long re-remembering of their rebellion: how Takval had risked everything to be on the expedition to Dara; how he had faced down the Dandelion Court to demand an alliance cemented with a royal marriage to her; how the couple, aboard Dissolver of Sorrows, had led the fleet through the Wall of Storms, escaped the pursuing Lyucu city-ship, and then arrived in Gondé; how they had established a base in Kiri Valley, where the Agon and their Dara allies had built up their strength, until the despicable sneak attack by the Lyucu….
She forced herself to speak slowly, to articulate and project, to shape the words as free from the influences of the tongue of Dara as possible. She did all this deliberately, to give herself and her audience the time they both needed.
Gradually, as she continued her account, the thanes stopped paying attention to her unfamiliar accent; instead, they became immersed in the story. Their hearts sank with the desperate flight of Takval and Théra as garinafins deluged Kiri Valley with flames; their spirits rose as the ice tribes joined them to make a stand by the frozen sea. They laughed with her as she remembered the first time she climbed into the sky as a garinafin pilot; they wept with her as she spoke of the last moments of her husband. They slammed their weapons against the ground to simulate the thudding of arucuro tocua wheel-feet; they howled and ululated to re-create the lung-stopping moment a cloud of feral garinafins materialized to fight for their cause….
For the briefest of moments, Théra considered shrouding the use of Takval’s body to assassinate Cudyu and the deployment of arucuro tocua armed with the Divine Voice in mystery and mysticism. Superstition and magic had, after all, been useful tools in the march to power of many kings and pékyus in both Dara and Ukyu-Gondé, and her task in convincing the Agon to follow a new path would be so much easier with blind obedience out of awe and fear at her witchcraft.
But she rejected the thought. She was going to be a pékyu who led by conviction, not a tyrant who imposed her will through deception of both the people and the gods.
So she was frank about her initial skepticism, about the moment she first felt the power of the gods of Gondé descend upon her, about her gradual embrace of the Agon way of life, of the voices of the ancestors of her adopted people. She didn’t claim to possess any magic from Dara, but revealed to all that the magnificent and terrifying weapons that had brought down the Lyucu had been built by brave and clever fighters originating from two lands divided by an ocean, animated as much by Dara engineering expertise as by Agon arucuro tocua skill. Yes, the weapons were wondrous, but they were the result of knowledge, not magic.
“Long ago, Afir and Kikisavo set out into the pathless waste in search of knowledge,” she said. “And it is knowledge, knowledge of ourselves, of our allies, of our foes, of garinafins, of our land, that led us to victory and freedom. Knowledge still will lead us into the future.”
Finally, she was done.
Ten dyudyu cupéruna?
Agon kyo!
Ten dyudyu cupéruna?
Gondé kyo!
Against the swirling smoke and shimmering air, the ecstatic clamor seemed to shake the star-studded firmament itself. Tears spilled from every eye. They were indeed favored by the gods; the Agon spirit had been proven to be invincible. They gazed upon the woman who had led them to this place, who had vanquished the hated Lyucu with guile and strength, with a fervent adoration even more ardent than the central bonfire that illuminated the grand circle of sitting rugs.
Théra, on the other hand, looked about her with some anxiety. Adyulek still hadn’t arrived.
But she couldn’t wait any longer. As the noise slowly subsided, Théra spoke.
“Votan-ru-taasa, votan-sa-taasa, I ask now that we honor those who gave their lives to overthrow the Lyucu.”
She picked up her skull bowl, filled to the brim with fragrant kyoffir, and stood up, her spine whalebone straight to keep the garinafin skull helmet, much too big for her, from tilting over. At Théra’s insistence, the banquet so far had been free of kyoffir and tolyusa—rumors were that the new pékyu wanted everyone present to be absolutely sober, for she had an important announcement to make. There were many guesses—a comprehensive plan for how to dispose of the defeated Lyucu, a new scheme of tributes and titles to consolidate her rule, a proposal for the conquest of the ice tribes, a levy of troops to build a new garinafin army—but no one knew for sure.
The chiefs and thanes picked up their bowls and stood up as well. As soon as the pékyu drank, the proper celebrations would begin.
But instead of raising the bowl to her lips, Théra leaned forward and, slowly and carefully, poured out the contents on the ground.
The hundreds of Agon chiefs and thanes gathered around the roaring bonfire looked at one another, astonished and confused.
“Why is she wasting good kyoffir?”
“The gods will be angry!”
“I hear that she doesn’t take tolyusa either.”
…
There were many rumors about the new pékyu, though few of the chiefs and thanes knew her. As much as they were troubled by her strange gesture, they were still too spellbound by her tale and too wary of one another to dare to challenge her.
After a moment of hesitation, a few chiefs followed her lead, pouring their kyoffir also upon the ground. Soon, the others did as well.
Théra let out a held breath. Her gamble had succeeded. Her audience had taken the first and most important step: defying tradition. That it was a tiny step didn’t matter. She would enlarge upon the breakthrough.
“But today is about the future,” said Théra, shifting into her new theme. “Long were the days and nights when we suffered in darkness and cold, when we had no comfort or hope to offer to our children, when we had to abandon the aged and infirm as we moved camp, because there was not enough food for all.”
The assembled Agon leaders nodded, many eyes moistening at the memory of loved ones who never got to see this day of celebration and joy.
“The Lyucu drove us away from the heart of Gondé. They multiplied, grew fat, and enlarged their families and herds by enslaving and starving us. I know many of you look forward to exacting vengeance, to making them suffer as we did.”
The chiefs and thanes slammed their weapons against the ground and shouted again.
“Ten dyudyu cupéruna?”
“Agon kyo!”
Théra held out her hands, bidding them to be quiet.
“But the Lyucu also have grandparents who have lost all their teeth and babies who have yet to acquire any,” said Théra. “The Lyucu also have parents who wish the best for their children, and children who wish to care for their parents in their old age. They also must eat when hungry; they also must drink when thirsty; they also must find shelter from storms; they also must build fires to keep the frost at bay.
“The Agon and Lyucu are descended from a great pair of heroes and companions, Afir and Kikisavo. Our languages are mutually intelligible, and our customs similar. We worship the same gods and retell the same stories.
“We are also linked by the bonds of blood and ancestry. Do not forget that Lyucu blood flowed through my husband’s veins too, for his mother, the wise and compassionate Souliyan, was the child of Nobo Aragoz and an enslaved Lyucu woman. Many of you can recall similar unions in your own lineages, as can many of the Lyucu thanes and warriors. We are all victims; we are all oppressors. These re-rememberings are not marks of shame, but reminders of how we dishonor ourselves when we forget the pain and suffering of our own ancestors in the insistence of us and them, in the rejection of the truth of our shared experience.
“We must now strive to reclaim and re-remember that most precious bit of knowledge: the knowledge of peace. Agon and Lyucu, we can learn to live together again.”
As she spoke, shouts of rage and disbelief erupted from the audience.
“The Lyucu are nothing like us!”
“How can you bring up our blood-taint? Shame! Shame!”
“They deserve everything we’ve done and will do to them!”
“Where were you when they showed us no mercy?”
…
The shouting gathered strength until the cacophony was like a summer thunderstorm, and Théra’s voice drowned in the noise.
But a solemn and booming melody, like the moaning of a hundred garinafins, erupted from beyond the circle around the bonfire. Gozofin, chief animator of the Seven-Headed Garinafin, had erected a set of Péa pipes not far from the assembly. And now Çami Phithadapu was using them to enforce Théra’s will. The smaller torches at each of the sitting rugs flickered, threatening to go out, while the central bonfire leapt taller, throwing up sparks to challenge the stars.
The thunderous music quieted the rebellious uproar for the moment, and into that silence, Théra spoke.
“If compassion will not move you, then perhaps fear will.
“Like you, the Lyucu also have hearts that crave vengeance.
“When Pékyu Nobo Aragoz defeated the Lyucu, he didn’t foresee the rise of Tenryo Roatan. When Pékyu Tenryo subjugated the Agon, he didn’t foresee the rise of Takval Aragoz. Who among you can foresee that there won’t be another to rise among the Lyucu in twenty years to avenge the wrongs you insist on committing against their people? Who among you can deny the justice of their claim?”
More cries of outrage.
“That is why we must show no mercy and exterminate the Lyucu once and for all—”
“We must have our vengeance! To renounce it is to be weak—”
“The Agon spirit will not be frightened into submission!”
…
Once again, the somber, deafening notes of the Péa pipes muted the raucous crowd. The very ground seemed to shake, the fires swayed and danced unsteadily, and the chiefs and thanes covered their ears against this aural demonstration of Théra’s power.
“I know that few of you have fought for me or know me,” said Théra, her voice calm but bone-hard. “So let me remind you of what I’ve done. I watched as my dearest companions in Kiri Valley died in an inferno of Lyucu creation. I lost my mother-in-law and children in a desperate flight to preserve the hope of Agon revival. I marched through the World’s Edge Mountains and Nalyufin’s Pasture to earn the respect of the gods and our ice tribe allies. I held my husband’s body as he died while being pursued by the Lyucu across the floes. I commingled my blood with Takval’s to become the pékyu. I planned the assault on Taten to kill Cudyu and free his garinafins. I led my warriors to triumph over a Lyucu army ten times the size of my own, summoned the voice of the gods to be embodied in arucuro tocua, earned the aid of a thousand free garinafins, and fulfilled the dream of the Agon people. Do not misjudge me as weak.”
While some of the Agon thanes and chiefs lowered their heads in shame as they recalled their own cowardice and vacillation when Théra had needed them the most, others looked even more defiant and contemptuous. Since they hadn’t been at the Battle of the Boneyard in person, they viewed most of the legends about Théra as self-serving exaggerations. The new pékyu didn’t look like a mighty warrior, didn’t claim to possess powerful magic, and yet, she was advocating a path of cowardly accommodation toward the Lyucu! That simply couldn’t be tolerated.
Fractious voices filled the air, demanding justice, vowing vengeance, insisting on the right to punish….
Théra grabbed one of her signaling spears and thrust the tip into the torch flame next to her sitting rug. The spear’s tip had evidently been soaked in oil, since it flared into a bright blaze almost instantly. Théra waved the spear overhead: once, twice, three times.
From the darkness beyond the brightly lit banquet circle, thousands of voices chanted in unison:
Ten dyudyu cupéruna?
Théra kyo!
The chanting came from Théra’s warriors—the ice tribespeople, the Agon rebels, and the Dara survivors—the ones who had dared to hope and had come to the Boneyard to fight for her the previous winter.
The gathered thanes and chiefs looked about them with expressions of fear. Finally, they realized who they were dealing with.
Théra sighed inside. She had wanted to persuade the haughty Agon leaders through reason, but Adyulek, Gozofin, Tipo, and Çami had all urged that she plan a demonstration of force.
“I am asking for your cooperation,” she said. “But do not mistake my solicitousness for frailty. There has been enough suffering. All acts of vengeance against the Lyucu must cease instantly, and neither will you fight amongst yourselves for selfish advantage. I, with your counsel, will find an equitable way for the children of Afir and Kikisavo to share Ukyu-Gondé. I am your pékyu, and my will is the law.”
She hated the idea of enforcing a peace through intimidation and force, but it seemed that the law of the scrublands left her no choice.
Many of the thanes and chiefs looked sullen and resentful, though a few seemed comforted by her words. Théra was glad that, despite Adyulek’s absence, she had been able to accomplish her goal at the banquet. At least, the Agon leaders all seemed willing to accept her authority.
All, except one.
“Before we follow the orders of the pékyu, we must first determine who is the pékyu.”
The voice was cold, calculating, and full of hatred. Just hearing it made the hair on the backs of many of the Agon leaders stand up. As everyone turned to gaze in its direction, an old man stood up from one of the sitting rugs and stepped out of the shadows into the light.
“Volyu,” cried Théra, utterly amazed.
* * *
After Pékyu Cudyu wiped out the rebel base at Kiri Valley, he returned the Agon informer, Volyu Aragoz, to Sliyusa Ki as an ignominious prisoner in a cage. Cudyu knew that Volyu had betrayed his own nephew not out of any sense of loyalty to the Lyucu, but because he was afraid of losing power as a Lyucu puppet among the Agon should Takval succeed in his rebellion. The Lyucu pékyu wasn’t going to make the mistake of trusting such a fool.
After the Lyucu guards left, the council of elders of Sliyusa Ki kept Volyu inside his cage and out of sight as they debated what to do. That a descendent of the great Nobo Aragoz could be so cowardly, so devoid of the Agon spirit was beyond shameful—it also spoke poorly of the judgment of the elders and shamans at Sliyusa Ki that they had trusted and backed the man for so long. Therefore, the council voted to keep Volyu’s betrayal of Takval and Théra a secret.
