For One Nen (38 page)

Hrilla was nineteen and this was the ninth day of the perta. Mollath and Hrilla would be sent. Everyone, even Mollath, believed that Tapsin would proclaim who would be free to have offspring. While Hrilla’s parents and many others grieved over this, they were not prepared for what Tapsin really had planned.

“My Father wants me home to help Mother with our feeding preparations,” Hrilla said to Mollath. She tried to gracefully dismiss herself from his
presence.

“I could walk with you if you l
ike,” Mollath kindly offered.

“I’ll be fine. You probably have serving to do in the Palace,” Hrilla answered
.

“Well I do actually. But you will come soon to the Palace to see the room I’m preparing?” Mollath requested with excitement.

Hrilla nodded and tried to say the word, ‘yes’. But her breath failed her.

He tried to pull her close to him but Hrilla hurried off saying, “Pellin wi
ll be displeased if I tarry.”

Mollath watched as she raced away not taking notice of how very odd she had acted. He was only thinking of her beauty. Nothing else mattered to him but her
, and it only mattered that she was his. When she arrived at home her mother was already in the kitchen rolling grain with dead stones.

“Asaph picked berries this morning
and Billa dried them. They’ve asked for you to put them in the bread.”

It wasn’t until Hrilla had begun mixing the ingredients with her hands that her mother
said, “Dhobin visited today.”

Just hearing Dhobin’s
name made Hrilla’s heart thump loudly like little explosions in her chest.

“You should talk to Mollath
, my dear,” her mother added.

“I just saw him on my way home,” Hrilla answered.

There was silence between them while they worked. The bread was baking in the stone of light oven and wonderful smells filled the air and dissipated their weariness. It wasn’t until the bread was out of the oven that Hrilla said, “I didn’t tell him.”

“Do you want Pellin to g
o with you?” her mother asked.

“I thought of this but I don’t want Mollath to believe that Pellin is persuading me. I even thought of taking Dhobin,” Hrilla smiled quickly when she said her love
’s name.

“Are you prepared to tak
e his path?” her mother asked.

“Yes, Mother, but I don’t want Mollath to believe that I’ve chosen another path because of Dhobin. I want Mollath to know that I am choosing not to join his pat
h and that it’s my decision.”

There was a bit more silence when Movvi as
ked, “Will you tell him why?”

“I must,” said Hri
lla. “I just don’t know how.”

Very early on the morning of sparsing Hrilla visited Mollath at his home. He was making it ready for his path joiner. He was a man in love and his excitement invaded his senses. He had thought of everything. There were many glow stones tucked safely in the light bin. He made glass beads to ornament her hair. They were placed with some rings on the top of a desk
, which Mollath had made for her to write and draw on. He knew she loved singing, so he had a reclining couch where she could sing in comfort.

He even commissioned a weaver to make clothes out of keepa, which was a thread from the fur of the fuzzy worm. Their fur was different shade
s of dark purple, and when woven, became a beautiful variegated pattern. The dynasty raised fuzzy worms – or rather the Tsila tribe raised them. They were the lowest class of the many tribes.

297 AE

Aboard the EGRESS

“What?” Deni said as she voiced the sting to her Tsila pride. “I’ve never heard this before.”

“I suppose
everyone’s been thought of as lowly at one time or another,” Tala said with a sad seriousness.

Deni said no more.

Tala continued to read.

2,300 BE

Far below the surface of the planet REEN

They did the raising and the sheering and the cleaning and the weaving and the tailoring. The dynasty just did the wearing. They were fond of their royal garments, which set them apart from the underlings.

Mollath had become close to the inner circle and the lives of the ruling family
. He assumed that he was permitted to dress in the color of the royals. He was proud of his standing in the palace and thought his standing was solid. Mollath’s only concern was the sparsing. Though he loved his job and his standing in the palace, he also loved Hrilla and wanted so much to add children to their path. He thought the sparsing was meant to tell some of the more unfortunates that they would not be allowed to procreate. While he was agreeable to this new ritual he wished his fate would not steel away his dreams with Hrilla.

“Path joiner,” Mollath called out when he saw her in the doorway. It was a term young people called their spouse-to-be. It was their version of engagement. Mollath smiled at her but instead, Hrill
a had fast approaching tears.

“No Moll
ath. You mustn’t call me that,” she replied.

Mollath said nothing
, which made Hrilla uncomfortable and she felt pressed to fill the awkward gap of silence.

“I’ve been drawn away since the rumor first started about the sparsing,”
she said pulling at her ear.

“You’ve sa
id nothing,” Mollath replied.

“But I’v
e tried many times. You merely thought that I was concerned about the sparsing outcome. But my concern was you.”

“How do you mean?” Mollath asked with growing offense.
              “We, you, are from a simple people. Our ways, our paths, are simple. And such pleasure we take from our place. Content and pleasant and pleased with life; we are. When you gave your service to Emperor Tapsin you became discontent.”

“How?” Mollath asked quickly.

Hrilla was hurting him with her words and her decision. She knew this, but she also knew that saying nothing meant walking a path that would break her heart with every step she took.

Mollath
though, felt betrayed.

“Tell me, so I can fix it. Is it because you are joining a
nother's path?” Mollath asked.

“No, that is not the reason.” Hrilla answered
and then added, “but I will.”

A cold determination was set about Mollath, “Then I’ll
give myself to the sparsing.”

“Mollath,” Hrilla quietly said
, but Mollath cut off her concern.

“If we cannot join, the
n I will never join another.”

The last of his words were spat from his mouth with growing venom. He raced from the room and down to the celebration ground
, where others were just beginning to gather.

He walked straight up to Emperor Tapsin
, himself dressed in a purple tunic. “High Priest Tapsin, I give myself to be sparsed.”

Tapsin pulled at his thick
gray beard as if Mollath was a mere disturbance to his thoughts.

“But the fighting has not yet begun,” Tapsin said with wrinkles in his forehead that showed his displeasure in being interrupted.

Mollath’s eyes widened and his gills fluttered.

“Fighting?” he asked.

He didn’t realize that Tapsin’s frustration was growing towards him.

“Yes!” Tapsin answered the boy with harshness of tone.

Tapsin was growing so annoyed that he felt he should call on this boy, if ever he needed to make an example of a petulant subject. So then, Tapsin asked a question that made Mollath feel as though he would melt away without a care from anyone.

“And what is your name?”

“I am Mollath, your son’s friend,” he said with great disappointment.

Tapsin almost pulled again at his beard as if he were thinking. Then he straightened in complete composure.

“Ah! Yes my servant,” he said with his head held aloft, as he looked down his nose at the insignificant subject.

However
, fear outweighed Mollath’s dignity and so his pressed the Emperor further.

“Fighting, my
Lord? Sparsing is fighting?”

Tapsin had turned his gaze away by then and was looking at the growing crowd.

“I will match you with my son,” he said as though addressing no one but merely organizing his thoughts.

Tapsin stepped completely away from Mollath
, and his giant guards were in step with him. A giant on either side was Tapsin’s usual company. Tapsin planted his feet firmly and at a very small signal, the guards raised their staves high in the air and together they slammed them down to the ground with a cry that made almost the entire crowd crumble. Very rarely did the Emperor show this kind of control and power. The people were wide-eyed. Babies began to cry and small children hid behind their parents.

Hrilla’s father whispered to her mother, “I wonder why he needs to show such force?”

Movvi replied in an even softer whisper,” I don’t know but I’m dreadfully afraid.”

Tapsin had picked the perfect place to unleash such fury. This wide open room had always been a celebration ground so the people were not afraid to come together.

Still, the most unfortunate reason for Tapsin to choose this place for his atrocities was the fact that it only had one opening for entrance as well as exit.

Tapsin had the only escape heavily guarded by giants. Tapsin then raised a capricious hand and softly summoned the crowd to come close. Obedience was immediate.

“Those sparsing come to the center. The rest of you pull back.”

The ‘rest’ encircled the young ones with a wide space between the inner group and the outer group.

“I will make two lines for the fighting.”

Many murmurs began to ripple through both groups. Ta
psin’s guards raised their staves and the crowd hushed.

“He must be pushing them,” Hrilla’s father whispered to those around him.
”

“He has pushed them so often that they don’t question him. Can you hear him pushing the giants?” Pellin asked Fbathin’s father.

“Yes,” said the tiny Hoth. “His voice is of cruel intent. We must escape.”

“But his guards have secured the exit,” Pellin answered. “If we could somehow distract them…”

Together the guards slowly returned their staves to their sides as if they were not of their own mind anymore. Tapsin climbed down from the hill to the ground.

“Entic, my son, stand here. You,” he called out to Mollath not even caring to remember his name, “you, stand here.”

Tapsin stood the two boys apart about fifteen paces, facing each other. 

“You,” he called out to another boy, “stand here.”

On and on he went facing boys against boys and girls against girls. This took well into mid-morning, until he had assembled the once encircled group into two fighting lines and then climbed back up the hill with the guards. Dhobin was not far from Mollath, who faced the prince. He also noticed the look on Entic’s face as he looked up at Mollath, who was at least a head taller.

Dhobin saw his fear and thought to himself, “I don’t think the princ
e even knows what’s happening.”

Hrilla faced Fbathin, her lifelo
ng, Hoth friend.

“Fighters,” Tapsin called out.

Hrilla thought,
“We’re not fighters. We’re planters and tellers. I don’t ever want to be the teller of what happens here this day.”

Two more times the cro
wd grew restless and loud. Two more times the guards raised their staves only to put them down again when the crowd quickly grew quieter.

Tapsin raised both hands and then drew one back to his chest and raised the other still higher. With that hand raised he explained his intentions for the sparsi
ng.

“Because I am your god, I deem it necessary to sparse each tribe for its salvation.”

The mumbling turned to shouts.

“What does this mean, E
mperor?” Someone shouted from the outer ring.

“What are you declaring, My Lord?” said another. “I thought the
Giver of Life, our creator, was our God?”

Many shouted with no answer from their leader. Tapsin pulled at his beard and then raised his other hand and clasped his hands together in the air with authority.

“On my command the person you face will become your foe. If you take the breath of your enemy then I will give you life. You will fight until one life is sparsed. I declare this as your god.”                            

Hrilla whispered to herself,
“So this is what he means by sparsing? He means to make us kill each other?”

Shouts from the crowd made a deafening soun
d. His guards raised their staves and with a shout, slammed them to the ground. The crowd fell to the ground. Hrilla’s father picked himself up and stepped out from the crowd and shouted, “Why my Lord. Tell us why?”