Dreams and Shadows (The Aylosian Chronicles Book 1) (12 page)

Nevertheless as he peered into the bright heavens in this place, he couldn’t see any familiar starry patterns. Even the moon, shining full and bright, seemed slightly larger than he expected, its face bearing a pattern of craters and shadows that were unfamiliar to him. He didn’t know whether she could see him shake his head as he replied, “No. It’s sure beautiful though. Where I come from, you can barely see any stars at night. I think I could lie on the grass and stare at these stars for hours.”

“You may if you wish,” she responded, before adding purposefully, “If you think you are safe.”

As he returned his gaze to hers, Michael could see that she was studying him again, and although he could not see the colours of her eyes in the dim light of the night, he could still feel their penetrating stare.

“Who do you fear here?” she asked.

Devu had said that it was his mother who had allowed him to stay here. That would be Arevu, Michael thought, and he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to declare the threats he had received from Arevu’s child, not knowing whether that would itself precipitate further peril.

Rather than answer her question, he asked one himself, “I don’t really understand what a Sooth Weaver is, but can you be tricked? Could you be wrong about me?”

“I am not wrong about you, Michael,” she assured. “I would ask again who you fear, but I believe you will still avoid answering. I will not press you on it…
yet
… but rest assured Michael that I am certain that you do not mean us harm.”

There was conviction in her voice. She had not fully answered his question, but she had not pursued her own unanswered question and so he tried a different angle, “Thanks. I said before that I’m grateful to your family for being kind to me, and I mean it. But does everyone here believe what you say about me? I mean, why would people not worry about someone who pops out of nowhere, just because you say I’m no threat?”

As soon as he’d said it, he regretted the question. It almost sounded like an attack on her, and he knew that wasn’t fair: it wasn’t what he had intended.

But she didn’t take any offence. “Tell me, what do you know about Weaving?” she asked.

At the word, he couldn’t suppress a sigh. “You know, just about every question I ask gets answered with it having something to do with a Weaver. Aneh always says, ‘Because it’s a Stone Weaver, of course’, or a Plant Weaver, or a Cloth Weaver, or a Sword Weaver. Where I come from, a weaver is just someone who works with fabric or something; with like a needle or something.”

He sighed again, “Here it seems to be the answer to everything. You know, when Aneh found me she basically said that I shouldn’t try and hurt her because there were Bow Weavers, and I just thought, ‘Why should I be afraid of someone with a needle and thread?’ But don’t think that’s what she meant, is it?”

Lohka started to walk again. Michael followed as she talked, and thought he could hear a faint smile in her words, “No, it is not the same thing. I will ask Aneh to speak to you of Weaving, and then perhaps you will understand why our people trust me. Although with you, things are perhaps… nuanced.”

Michael didn’t understand the cryptic words, but they had arrived at Aneh’s tent now, and as they paused, Lohka spoke again, “You have not asked the question that worries you most concerning the Lora.”

It was then that Michael realised that she had accompanied him not because she wanted to ask him more questions in private, but because she wanted to give him the opportunity to ask her questions. He was grateful for her thoughtfulness.

“The Lora’s judgement,” he began, “was only an interim one, until a full decision can be made. Can you tell me why?”

He could see her nod, and knew that this was the question that she had been expecting. “As you know,” she replied, “when you came before the Lora you were unable to answer many of the questions you were asked, and of those questions which you could answer, we found your words strange.”

Michael remembered the questions being fired at him, and his responses that seemed to be variations of “I don’t know”. He recalled his later surprise when Aneh had told him that he was free to walk about the camp, to come and go as he pleased; and disappointment to learn that it was only temporary.

Lohka continued, “I could clearly determine that you spoke the truth, but you must know that for many in the Lora what truth you spoke was still very little to aid our understanding of you. We could therefore be certain of little, and there was a lengthy debate after you departed. The Guardian increasingly sends small groups of his warriors against us, and we fear he will have other plans, many of which may be cunning. The Lora ultimately accepted my claim that you had not deceived us – as I knew they would – but determined to continue to watch you and to learn more of you.

“For many,” she concluded, “there remains reason to be wary of you. But you are to receive our welcome and hospitality should you desire it until there is reason to believe that you pose a risk currently unknown to us.”

So the Lora had debated him, and some were still unsure of him. That would explain Devu’s response, Michael thought, and there could be others who felt similarly of him.

“If some still aren’t really sure that I’m not a threat,” he asked, “how can you know? I mean, if I haven’t been able to answer enough questions to convince everyone, why is it that you’re sure about me?”

Lohka seemed to pause for a moment before responding, considering her words. “There are… other things, that have contributed to my understanding of you, Michael. I am sorry that I cannot relate these to you, but be assured that I and my family are certain of you.”

With that enigmatic comment, she appeared to have said all that she wanted to, and after a farewell she turned and left, Michael then slipping into the tent. He uncovered one of the light-emitting stones and changed into the nightclothes that had been placed there for him before recovering the stone and lying under the rugs to sleep.

***

Despite the many urgent questions that remained, Michael slept well, awaking to the sounds of birds singing in the trees and of families in adjacent dwellings starting their day. He arose and quickly dressed, then exited the tent. He felt confident enough with the handful of faces he was just beginning to recall to ask one nearby man whether there was somewhere he could wash. After asking Michael to wait for a moment, he quickly popped into his own tent and returned, throwing Michael a small piece of soap and telling him to keep it. He then pointed to a couple of young men walking towards the eastern edge of the camp.

When the two lads saw him following, they paused, allowing him to catch up, and then they chatted together as they walked to a secluded part of the nearby river, where there were already a handful of other boys and men. The river felt cold as he entered it, but it was refreshing, and he tried to listen to the talk of the others as he cleaned himself, hoping to continue his education of this world.

There had been nothing to dry himself with before re-dressing, and so his clothes were damp. With the moisture dripping from his skin he made his way back to the camp, but the day’s prospects looked to be quite literally bright, and he remained in the sunlight so that he could dry.

After Aneh had come with breakfast, she suggested they walk in the forest. Michael was still nervous about encountering Devu again soon, and was therefore pleased that they would be leaving the camp, and the two of them were shortly walking under the autumn canopy. They were strolling more casually once they arrived amongst the trees, Aneh occasionally pointing out an animal, berry, or new species of tree.

“You seem happy to walk alone through the forest,” Michael eventually ventured. “Aren’t there any dangerous animals around?” He hadn’t minded the long periods of silence as they walked, but still wasn’t sure whether he would be able to stay amongst these people forever – or even for long – and as much for his own well-being he thought it useful to know what dangers lurked outside the camp.

“The small creatures that live and wander here are harmless to people. Even the Tils will avoid all who are living,” she replied. “The mountains are another matter, though,” she said, looking at him, “and we would never go into them even with a small group of warriors – not without Bow and Sword Weavers.”

Lohka had said Aneh would tell him about Weavers, but he ignored that comment for the moment. “Why are the mountains so dangerous?”

“There are many fierce beasts that inhabit the high reaches. Some live solitary lives like the Varchik. It is perhaps twice the height of you or me and savage if encountered, but it would prefer to hide from us. Others, like the Chet’tu hunt in packs and would seek us out if we were within a half day’s walk. Even with a trained warrior at my side, we together would fall to one Chet’tu, but if there are three of four hunting together as there usually are, our only hope would be Ashael’s grace.”

Looking again at him, Aneh sought to reassure him, “But they never come down to the forests; we are safe here.”

“Not even in the winter?” asked Michael.

“No. Not even in winter. There is prey sufficient for them in the mountains in even the harshest cold.”

Michael was reassured that even if he had to leave Aneh and her people at least he wouldn’t find danger from the animals of the forest, and they again travelled in silence for another few minutes.

Soon they stopped in front of a large tree, Aneh seeming to be happy that they had arrived at their destination. Its trunk was roughly twice as wide as a grown man, its bark variegated in large sections with a variety of mid to dark browns making it look on examination like it was covered with a patchwork blanket. As with most of the other trees they had walked under, its leaves displayed various shades of autumn, its branches just beginning to shed their summer clothes.

“Is there something special about this tree?” Michael asked.

“Stand in front of it.”
 

When he did so, Aneh smiled, but Michael was still confused.

“What?” he enquired.

She laughed, “You would not ask if you could see.” Continuing after a brief pause, she said, “Compare the colour of your clothing with that of the tree, and it will not surprise you to learn that you are almost invisible to the eye if you stand still against it.”

He looked down at his clothes, and then at the trunk of the tree, and noticed that Aneh was correct. The large blocks of colour in the trunk matched perfectly the colours of his shirt and trousers in places.

At his enquiring glance, Aneh spoke again, “It serves to hide you so well because your clothes are woven from its bark.”

He peeled a small piece of bark from its surface and found its rough surface snapped easily between his fingers; then pulled at his shirt, again thinking that it felt like a soft but tough leather in his touch.

“I would ask,” he said, “But all your answers to my questions seem to be something about Weavers, so let me guess – a Bark Weaver?”

He found it difficult to be frustrated when his stare was returned with the dimple in her cheek that was always displayed when her smile widened. “You are beginning to learn the words,” she said, “if not the meanings. A Plant Weaver will have made your clothing. That is why I brought you here. I thought it would be easier to explain if you could see that one thing becomes another through the Weaving.”

Finally
, he thought,
I’m going to get an explanation
. He just hoped he would be able to understand it, and it wouldn’t leave him with even more questions.

“Come with me,” she said, “There is a pleasant place nearby where we can sit by the river; there I will try to explain.”

He carried the piece of bark with him as they walked no more than a couple of hundred yards, the river suddenly appearing in front of them as they pushed their way between some large shrubs. The sound of the water that could be heard running gently over partially submerged rocks was pleasant in the mid morning sun. Aneh pulled herself onto a large rock that rose from the riverbank to the height of her waist, and motioned for Michael to sit alongside her.

Once he was comfortable, she spoke; her brow furrowed as she concentrated. “Each person who is born amongst our number is blessed with a Weaving of one type or other,” she began. “We do not know why that is. Perhaps it is a gift from Ashael, or because of the land in which we live, or mayhap no more than happenstance. But the people of Aperocalsa have no Weaving, and as we were once all one people, we are not able to explain why we have Weavings and they do not. What we know for certain, however, is that the people of the city despise us for our Weaving, seeking to destroy us because of it.”

“Is the Weaving dangerous then?” Michael asked.

“The Weaving is a gift,” she replied. “Some Weavings could be used in ways that make them dangerous, but a man may make the branch of a tree dangerous if he wishes, or a stone from the river. The Weaving is no more dangerous than any gift of nature, and often it is the opposite. We do not know why the people of the city hate us for it.”

Michael thought on her words, but still wasn’t any clearer on what a Weaving actually was. “You said your people could get a different type of Weaving. Is it something you are born with? Or can you choose what Weaving you will have?”
 

“In truth, we do not know for certain whether the Weaving arrives with us into this world. A child will have known eight, or nine, or perhaps ten springs when their Weaving begins to be known. Whether that is because it is acquired from something around us, or whether the child is born with their Weaving, taking time to develop sufficiently for it to become known we cannot tell. But we are not able to choose our Weaving. I believe it is a gift from Ashael, and I trust in her wisdom of the Weavings that are bestowed upon us.”

Aneh was still concentrating on the words she was choosing. Michael suspected that she had never had to explain something that was such a central part of their culture to an outsider before and thought it must be difficult for her.

“What does the Weaving actually do?” he asked, “I mean, obviously it turns this bark into clothes, but how does it do that? And you’ve mentioned a lot of different Weavers. Your mum is a Sooth Weaver you said, and that doesn’t seem to change anything.”