by L. Itram and Ben Yackley Main * Story * Setting * Cast * Illustrations * About * Comment

Chapter 4: The Path Home (Posted on 9/11/02 )

The first foreigner I ever met was a mage who came from across the sea to visit our tribe. I'd heard tales of other lands of course, and occasionally we would get some new fabric or trinket from other tribes which, they claimed, originally came from Almanaque or a place called Levend. Mostly we knew that these strangers were useful to trade with but ultimately not to be trusted. But I was just a child then. I was naive - I trusted everyone.

This man - this stranger - was seeking treasures he'd heard about in legend. The tribe's elder put him under supervision and took him in until we found a shaman who could advise us. He stayed with us for many weeks and his powers rivaled those of any shaman I had seen. A mere gesture could light our campfire; a few words were enough to conjure the rain.

He left of his own accord weeks before a shaman appeared. When we asked, the shaman told us that this man was in fact on his way to the treasure at that very moment, but would never reach it. None of us ever saw him again, but I dreamed of that power every night. I vowed that, someday, it would be mine.

"What, you forget to lock your front door? It's a bit late to go back now."

"I was enjoying one last glimpse o' civilization, until ye came along ta spoil the mood."

"Well, excuse me for breathing," responded Luen cheerfully, sitting himself down on the edge of the river-raft to share the view.

Viola, seated cross-legged on her folded cloak, turned her attention back to the scenery. "Ye have found something a wee bit more fragrant ta breathe than that rancid fish, so consider yerself excused."

"Dried fish," corrected Luen. "Anyway, you might as well start enjoying the boat since we'll be on it 'til we hit the rapids. After that, it's hiking all the way." He dangled his tail in the water and leaned back with a sigh of contentment.

His companion gave a sniff of annoyance. "Watch that ye don't fall overboard." No sooner were the words out of her mouth than Luen slipped off the edge and vanished tail-first into the water. Viola leapt to her feet, visions of carnivorous river-squid racing through her brain.

"I didn't think you cared," came a voice from behind her as Luen climbed up onto the corner of the raft. "Paddle-wheel's so slow I could probably swim there and back in half the time."

"Why don't ye bother Kinto an' leave me in peace?"

"In case you hadn't noticed," he said, plopping back onto his previous seat, "Spike-head hasn't uttered three words since we left the capital city."

"Aye," Viola sat down next to him, pushing her cloak out of the way so it wouldn't get dripped on. "But can ye blame him? Morbid little joke, sending him a tooth like that."

Luen shrugged. "To you maybe. For all we know it could be a cherished relic from his great grandfather. Aw no!"

"What?" Viola turned toward him in alarm.

"My pipe's all waterlogged," said Luen mournfully, holding it out to her. "And that was the last of the really good tobacco."

Years later, when I was nearly an adult - just days, in fact, from the Xakineto ceremony that would make me officially a man - I left the tribe. I decided to depart the ancestral pathways, the five-year circle that brought us to new homes with the changing of the seasons. Doing this kind of thing was strictly taboo, of course, and meant shame and dishonor, but I felt my calling was elsewhere and I just couldn't stay. One night, I packed my few belongings and snuck off. Down the river, southward, to the city of Almanaque. A place I'd been warned against ever entering, for it would surely pull me from the proper path.

Somewhere in the middle of the vast savannahs covering the continent of Tximist was a small grove of trees near a river. A disinterested observer would notice nothing particularly remarkable: the trees were knotted and stunted, really the only sort of tree one ever saw on the savannah, while the river was only a few paces wide and might even be dubbed a creek by a mean-spirited person wishing to insult it. The disinterested observer wouldn't give the place a second thought. Of course, observers on Tximist are never disinterested when it comes to water and shade.

Lounging in this unremarkable creek was a young Vadhan man, taking a much-needed bath as the sun slowly made its way to whatever evening party it generally attends after work.

"Luen, will ye quit that infernal whistling?" hollered Viola from her spot by the fire.

"Oh, calm down. You'll have your turn soon enough."

Luen gazed out at the landscape as he soaked in the cool water. The boat had hit the end of the line that morning and they'd exchanged the slow green river for the wider, dryer and much inferior sea of golden grass. The sooner we get that Shard and go home, the better. I hate deserts. But it was hard to stay in a bad mood with such a lovely little bath.

"Luen, can ye at least be a wee bit quieter afore my ears -- ah, hello Kinto."

They were both silent as the Tximisti stepped into the circle of firelight with half a dozen unidentifiable tubers tucked under one arm. Luen craned his neck around to watch.

"Dinner," remarked Kinto. "An' breakfast."

"Thank ye," responded Viola quietly, moving over as he squatted by the fire to prepare them for baking.

"So, what's the plan for tomorrow?" asked Luen after a moment. Kinto seemed to be in a slightly better mood, he noticed. Though that's not sayin' much. I've seen dead trout that were cheerier than him. But at least he's talking. Viola's sudden politeness suggested that she was thinking the same thing.

"No plan. We're waitin' here till they come."

In Almanaque I learned that I would have to learn to read and write and to speak Manaqi (which I later found out was just Levendish with an accent). I also learned of a place across the ocean, a place called Featherglass where mages were taught. I set myself to the task of learning everything I had to, still dreaming every night about becoming a mage. For five long years I worked at the docks, loading and unloading crates from the ships in the harbor. It was easy work for the Cotani but hard for me, and all of the Manaqi dock-workers liked to pester the "primitive kid" who couldn't even talk right. But I suffered through it all. The shortest path between two points is a straight line, even when that line leads you over impossible terrain. And the path must be taken.

Eventually I made enough money to book passage to Featherglass. By that time I also knew enough Manaqi to get by. But it was another three years before the Academy let me in. I had to prove I was serious and prove I could learn. Every time classes were about to start again, I pleaded the Dean to let me join. He finally gave in and I was on my way to becoming a mage.

"Here?" Viola looked around at the darkness in astonishment. "But there's nary a thing here."

"Not yet," said Kinto. "This is th'autumn campsite. They'll be comin' in a week or so. An' they'll be expectin' us."

"The tooth told you that, I imagine," quipped Luen from the river where he was enjoying another cold - and, in his opinion, much-needed - bath.

"Th'tooth," responded Kinto grimly, splashing over to brandish it at Luen, "is th'sign of a - a - whatchacallit. Like a mage, but religious."

"Priest? Cleric? Oracle?"

"No, no ... a shaman. S'what the Levendish word for 'em is, anyhow. They don't travel with th'tribes - got their own path - but they show up at th'camp at certain times an' take care o' stuff. Like ceremonies for th'dead. They take th'body away an' there's nothin' left but a tooth, which th'shaman keeps."

"An' what happens to the rest o' the body?"

Kinto shrugged. "No one knows. S'a secret. But you can tell a shaman by th'strings of teeth they wear."

"So t'was a shaman sent ye that tooth?"

"Yeah. They knew I was in th'city. Means they've been watchin' me this whole time, prob'ly all th'way back to when I left."

"How?" asked Luen.

"Why?" asked Viola.

"'Cause I broke a rule. A sacred rule. I put my own good b'fore th'tribe's an' snuck away t'become a mage. Go siddown. 'S a long story..."

"...Th'point," said Kinto, after recounting the chronicle of his history, "is that I have t'face 'em now. I thought they didn't care 'bout me once I left, but if they've been keepin' an eye on me..."

"I still don't see how," said Luen.

"Maginaria."

Luen boggled.

"Th'shamans speak with 'em," explained Kinto. "Act'lly they're th'spirits of th'people they buried. Prob'ly had a buncha ancestors watchin' me this whole time, all those years." He paused to take a deep breath. "An' now I get to face 'em."

The same grove, two days later...

Studying was not what Viola had originally had in mind, but they needed to fill the week somehow and searching for the Shard was out of the question.

"Why?" she'd asked. "If tha two o' ye wait here then ye won't miss tha tribe an' I can scout ahead."

"Alone?" grunted Kinto.

"I can take care o' meself."

"'F any Tximisti caravans find you, they'll take care o' you alright. S'pecially if you're stickin' yer nose somewhere you're not s'posed t'be."

Luen, oddly enough, took Kinto's side. "We don't know the local customs or what's taboo around here. Best to wait it out."

So there was nothing left to do but unpack the books and wait. Viola resumed her reading where she'd left off. Air magic was proving more interesting than she'd expected.

As it turned out, the predicted week-long wait only lasted two days.

"G'mornin'."

Kinto opened his eyes the next morning to find dawn well underway and an extra person in their little camp. "Wh - wh - I'm in bigger trouble than I thought, huh?"

"On th'contrary," rumbled the enormous Tximisti dragon, speaking accented Levendish for the benefit of her audience, "I'm very impressed that y'chose t'face your destiny head-on. A lesser man would've run away long before now."

Luen and Viola were gradually regaining consciousness and taking stock of the situation in their own fashion.

"Ye didn't say we'd be meetin' a shaman," marveled Viola, staring in open admiration at the newcomer. There was no doubt that she was indeed a shaman, and quite an impressive one: at least twice Kinto's size in every dimension with glowing orange eyes and an armored hide of overlapping coppery plates, tarnished and green with age but still gleaming brightly in patches. Apart from the tarnish it was difficult to tell just how old she was, although to say that she could have been Kinto's grandmother wouldn't have been an exaggeration. The strings of teeth hanging around her neck, chest, and tail made her status as shaman apparent to even the least astute. Apart from that, her only clothing consisted of a few sacks hanging off a belt.

Luen, after the initial shock, reverted to his usual irreverent attitude. "One more for breakfast. We should've gathered more roots yesterday."

"Thank you, but I'm not here fer food," responded the visitor. "Introductions are in order. I am Uxul. You mus' be Kinto's followers."

"Luen Mazarein." He pointed a thumb at the third member. "Viola Longdawning. Actually we were on our way to look for a fallen Shard, with a detour for a little family reunion."

"The one to th'north, y'mean. Yes, I recall when that one landed. But it's not here anymore, so you 'n save yerselves th'trouble."

Luen drooped. "It was worth a look, I guess," he said doubtfully. "We'll just have to go to the next one."

Uxul shook her head. "I'm afraid yer in th'wrong area entirely, nephew. All th'Shards that fall on Tximist are claimed by shamans. You're not likely t'convince anyone t'give theirs up. I'd advise you t'look elsewhere.

"Kinto, however, is in exactly th'right place." She stood and stretched, then hesitated. "Since I won't be coming back, I have some words fer you, young lady, b'fore we leave."

Viola looked startled. "About what, ma'am?"

"I couldn't help but notice that y'appear to be Instilled."

"That's very perceptive, ma'am."

Uxul frowned. "Not really. It's blindingly obvious." She bent down to confront Viola eye to eye. "What is not obvious is that th'Instilled have a diff'cult path to walk, and there are always dangers about us. We've been granted power but th'price is that we're faced with risks that do not plague others.

"Never forget who y'are, niece, independent of what you've been given. Bein' Instilled means becoming greater than y'were, but if y'lose yerself 'n what y'appear to be, y'lose part of yer soul.

"It is not th'power that's important, it is th'balance." She stood up. "Stay at peace with yerself and you will be able to balance what y'were wit' what you have been given."

Uxul held out a hand, leaving the bewildered Viola to figure out the meaning in her phrases. "Kinto. Come with me, alone. It is time t'confront your destiny."

As Kinto clasped the shaman's hand, there was a loud thunderclap, and the two vanished in a cloud of sparks.

It was cold and clammy. Cold, clammy and, for the most part, dark. Hundreds of tiny, faintly glowing spots set into the walls revealed that Kinto was in a cylindrical chamber. A single shaft of light streamed down from the ceiling; it failed to illuminate the room, but within it he could see vague ghostly images.

Uxul's voice echoed from no distinct source. "Do you recognize him?" she asked in Tximisti.

"It's that traveler from so many years ago," he responded, glad to be able to speak his native language for once.

"Yes, it is he." She sounded slightly amused. "His name was Baskian. Do you remember why he was here?"

"To seek a treasure."

"Do you know what treasure?"

"No."

"He sought the bones of a shaman."

"The ones you wear?" Kinto had never thought of the teeth as anything more than symbolic. The shamans might give them power, but they had no power alone.

"The ones we wear inside our bodies. He sought power. The power that the spirits have granted us."

"Then he wanted to kill you."

"Yes."

There was a pause, then Uxul asked, "Kinto?"

"Yes?"

"What do you seek?"

Kinto was silent. What did he seek? At the moment, he sought the Shard so he could go back to Featherglass, triumphant, but those hopes had been dashed when Uxul told him he'd have to look elsewhere. So what did he seek? Another Shard?

"Do you seek power?" she prompted.

More silence.

"Or is there something else?"

"...yes," he finally responded.

"What do you seek?"

"I want to be able to face my tribe again."

"Yes?"

"I left them to chase after my dream of power, but going back now before I've reached it would mean only shame."

"In other words, you forged your own path, separate from your tribe's."

"Yes."

"There is a name for those who follow their own paths."

"...Misfits? Deviants?" Kinto asked bitterly.

"Shamans."

He hadn't expected that. "Are you seriously suggesting I could be a shaman?"

"It depends. What do you seek?"

Kinto's patience was running thin, shaman or no. "I told you! I want to get rid of my shame. I took a wrong turn in my life, and ended up on a longer, harder road. I should've stayed here in Tximist!"

"Do you honestly believe that?"

Kinto thought about it. If he'd stayed, what would've become of him? His years would've been spent wandering the savannah for the rest of his life, hunting for food with the rest of his tribe. Even Featherglass would only have been a distant dream to him. Could he have stayed in Tximist? "...no."

"Do you believe that Featherglass has taught you well? Has it been worthwhile?"

"Yes."

"Then I see no reason to be ashamed."

"Huh?"

"You know where your own path will lead you. I remember you as a child, Kinto. You have always been persistent. You do not give up. Your road from here will be even more difficult, but in the end, you will have gone more places and seen more things than you ever could have dreamed of if you'd stayed on Tximist."

"And I'll be a shaman?" He was still having trouble wrapping his head around that idea.

"You will, at the very least, come back to your tribe with honor."

"Did you hear this from the spirits?"

There was a low rumble that might have been laughter. "No. I heard this from my own heart. Now - go, Kinto Rofo. You must leave before your tribe comes. I shall deal with them myself."

The shaft of light grew brighter, hiding the glow from the walls, hiding the walls themselves and everything else...

Kinto reappeared at the campsite in a clap of thunder, almost causing Luen to fall into the fire. "Hey, watch it!"

"What happened?" asked Viola, "Ye were gone fer hours."

Kinto shrugged. "Had a conversation with Uxul."

"Did she mention anything about tha Shards?" she pressed.

"Nope."

He waited for Luen to make some snide remark about keeping them waiting and then not providing anything useful, but all the latter said was "Must've been some conversation. What now?"

"You heard what she said b'fore. There's no Shards fer us in Tximist. Time t'head on."

"What about yer tribe?"

"I'll visit 'em next time. Y'ready t'go?"

He wasn't quite sure just how much of his conversation to tell the others; to be honest, he wasn't quite sure just how much of it he could explain to anyone. One thing was clear, however: it was not yet time for him to return. He'd be back one day, but not until his path took him home again.