Time of the Eagle (14 page)

Old he was, with a thin rim of pure white hair that flowed down over his shoulders, and a long white beard. He too wore a long crimson garment like a dress, embroidered about the hem and sleeves with gold. He wore a white sleeveless tunic over the top, embroidered on the front with seven silver stars, and a green band about his waist. When he saw me he stood, and came to meet me.

He took both my hands in his, and for a long time stood looking at my face. His eyes were gray and shining like steel, and his smile was warm; and as he looked at me he shook his head a little, as if unable to believe what he saw.

“Gabriel's daughter,” he said, and leaned forward and kissed my brow. “Welcome, welcome to this place. And again, welcome.”

His voice was soft and gentle, and his face, though old and
covered with fine lines, wore a look of tranquility and deep joy. I remembered that my mother had told me that this man Salverion was the greatest healer in the world, and that my father had loved him above all others, save her. He it was who had sent my father the book, when he and my mother's people were imprisoned in Taroth Fort. I wondered if I should bow to him, as to a great chieftain; but he drew me to him and embraced me, close and warm, as a grandfather might.

Then we both went and sat down, and he explained to me what this place was. I will not record all my questions and his explanations, for I interrupted him often, especially when I did not understand his words, though he took pains to be clear; I will tell all, as if the Navoran language was as familiar to me then as it is now.

“S
ixteen years ago,” Salverion said, “our good Empress Petra gave the order for your people to be set free from Taroth Fort. It was the last order she gave as Empress, before she went into exile, leaving the Empire in the hands of a new ruler, Jaganath. It was Jaganath who had imprisoned the Shinali in the first place; and he had planned to have them all killed. He was, and is, a man full of evil, and driven by selfish desires. He has many powers and controls people in terrible ways. He knows only one fear: the Time of the Eagle, and the prophecy that the Shinali people will one day rise in power and bring his reign to an end.

“When Jaganath seized power he quickly claimed total control of everything, before the people had a chance to protest or revolt. He took over control of the Citadel, where your father and many others trained in the best arts of the Empire. Always the Citadel had been the place of highest learning, considered sacred, and set apart from all influence from outside. Even visitors were not allowed inside; its grounds were holy. Some of our masters, our great teachers, had the same mind-powers Jaganath
had—power to walk in memories, to understand dreams, to create illusions of things that are not, and to alter the form of things that are. Our powers were, and remain, bound by strictest laws, but for Jaganath there were no rules. We were a threat to him, so early in his reign he took over the Citadel and would have killed us all. But we fled. Many of our disciples—those learning our ways—returned to their loved ones and homes, some of them to far places in the Empire. But seventy of us—masters, and disciples who wished to remain with us—came to this place in the mountains, that was known only to us.

“Many hundreds of years ago people from a great civilization had lived here. Our architects and engineers and artists restored this part of the hidden city, for we knew we would need to stay here for an indefinite time. There is but one entrance to this place—a carved door in the mountainside—and that is blocked from ordinary sight by our powers of illusion. And so we are well hidden, living in this secret place, awaiting the day of freedom when we may return to the Citadel.

“While here we have a great work to do, for we are at war. That war is with Jaganath and his powers, and his terrible desire to find the Shinali people and wipe them out. So afraid is he of the Time of the Eagle, that he searches for the Shinali, has searched long and hard, and will never give up. And so, in order to protect your people, we fight Jaganath in the spiritual battlefields, with the same powers that
he
uses to control and manipulate. We create mists and illusions of bare rock, so that when his spies are near to the Shinali, they see nothing. We put up supernatural walls, we protect, we safeguard. We call it Standing in the Gap, guarding the place between the hunter and the hunted.

“And that is our work, Avala. That is what we do, unceasingly, until your people befriend the Hena and the Igaal and return to Navora to reclaim what is rightfully theirs, as foretold in the prophecy. But that is about much more than the lost Shinali land. Freedom will be won back—freedom not only for the Shinali, and the Hena and the Igaal, but freedom for Navora, too. For we are not free, under Jaganath, and there is much wrong in our Empire that needs to be put right. The great and honorable country that our forefathers began has become an Empire of greed and oppression and persecution. The Empire needs cleansing, renewing, and that shall happen in the Time of the Eagle. That is the full meaning of the prophecy. But for Jaganath, it means simply the end to his power, so that is why he fears the Time of the Eagle, and only that.

“So you see, Avala, your people are not alone in their dreams. We dream with them, fight beside them already, and support and guard them. And, if you can believe it, many people in Navora and in the Empire would support you in your fight against Jaganath, for he is much hated and feared. The Time of the Eagle will be the time of deliverance not only for your people, but for mine as well.”

For a long time after he spoke, we sat in silence. I felt that layers were peeled away behind a dream, showing more dreams behind it, more hopes than I had knowing of, and I realized how much hung upon our Shinali prophecy. I realized, too, another thing, that made my spirit leap.

“You have knowing of my people's place,” I said, “seeing that you hide them from Jaganath's soldiers.”

“Every day, we know where they are.”

“Can you show me?”

“Of course. Come.”

Inside, Salverion led me down a maze of passages, all lit with lamps, to a large room with no windows and only one door. It was brilliant with that strange light from above, and there were no lamps. The high walls were covered with shelves of books. Some of the books were not bound in pages but were scrolled about wooden spindles, beautifully carved. There were ladders placed round about, for climbing up to the higher shelves, and there were chairs and tables placed in the center of the room. Several men sat there, reading. They, too, were wearing long crimson robes, though the sashes about their waists were of different colors. They looked up as we entered, and all stood and bowed to Salverion. He talked with them awhile and told them my name and who I was, and several of them looked surprised, and welcomed me as if I were a friend. In all of them was that same beautiful gentleness, that sense of harmony and joy, that was in Salverion.

Then Salverion explained to me that we were in the library, for they had saved as many books as they could from the great libraries at the Citadel when they left. He took a long rolled paper from a shelf, and opened it on one of the tables, weighting the corners down with beautiful stones obviously there for that purpose.

“This is a map,” he said. “It shows all the lands hereabouts, from the southern coasts up to the desert lands of the Hena tribes. Here is the city of Navora. There, Jaganath's palace. These are rivers, these the forests. And these lands—here, and here—were
the lands that once belonged to your people. This small part here, between these farms and these mountains, were the lands owned by the Shinali when your father knew them. And his mother, your grandmother, owns one of these farms, and lives there still. . . .”

I marveled, as I looked at that picture of my world, for I saw at last, in the space of a few heartbeats, all the lands we had fought over and lost, and longed to win again. I saw the wide spaces of the Igaal territories, and the vast deserts and marshlands of the Hena. I saw the river I had washed in, and the place where I had stayed in Igaal tents; I saw the mighty Ekiya where it tumbled through the ravine, and the places where I had walked and lived.

“And here,” said Salverion, pointing to a place in the mountains far to the north, “here is where your people now dwell. They dwell at the foot of this high cliff, looking down across the deserts to the east. It's not a comfortable place for them, as it's deep in Igaal territory; but it's separated from the city of Navora by many ranges and rivers.”

As I stared at that place it seemed that the map vanished, and I saw my mother bending over in the wind, turning meat upon torn flames, her eyes narrowed against the dust and flying ash. In the entrance of a cave she was, and behind her stretched a huge desert, white with snow. She looked cold, sad, and solitary, more than a season older.

“I'm wanting to go home,” I said.

“Then you shall go, if that is what you want,” said Salverion. In joy I looked up at him. He was smiling, sharing my happiness,
understanding my need; but a shadow ran swift across his face, and I felt a sorrow in him, like the loss of a secret hope. I looked at the map again.

“This place we are now, where is it?” I asked.

He pointed to a place in the mountains not very far from where my people had been when I last saw them, at the end of the gorge beside the Ekiya. “Here,” he said. “We've named it on this map. It's called Ravinath, which is a very old word meaning ‘to guard.'” He hesitated, then drew a deep breath and said, very quietly, “We need to speak further, Avala. I would like to know why you were with the Igaal people, and why there was, deep in your heart, the shadow of bitterness and grief.”

Again I looked at him, astonished; his eyes were grave, going deep.

He took me to what I suppose was his private room, for it was furnished with comfortable chairs and lamps on stands, and a table littered with scrolls and books and carved boxes and many things that were alien to me. In one corner was a bed, narrow and raised above the floor, and spread with colorful rugs and cushions. A beautiful tapestry covered one wall, and there were many shelves of books and rolled-up parchments. Humble things, too, stood on shelves: rough pottery bowls, childishly carved wooden animals, and small handmade objects.

He told me to sit in one of his chairs, and I felt almost lost in it, for it was softer and more comfortable than any bed I had slept in, excepting the last. If my amazement at my surroundings amused him, Salverion did not show it; he was courteous and kind, and never made me feel ignorant or out of place, though I felt that I was. And I felt strangely breathless, shut in, for never
had I lived with walls all around, out of the feel of the wind and the wild scent of grasslands and river and earth. Already I missed the openness, the sky.

As if he knew, Salverion said, “I know you are not used to walls, so we are preparing you a room on the edge of this place, with a window looking westward across the mountains. Don't look alarmed, my dear; you do not have to stay long. But your people are many days away, and we cannot make such a journey until the weather is settled and clear. Meanwhile, we will do everything in our power to make your stay with us comfortable. Now, when you are ready, tell me of yourself.”

So I told him, stumbling in that unfamiliar tongue, but warming to the task in the easiness of his presence. I told him all: about my childhood and our Shinali Wandering; about the soldiers by the river, and my borning-day feast; of Zalidas's prophecy over me; of my fateful meeting with Ramakoda, and of my time with the Igaal. Briefly I talked of my enslavement, the loss of some of my powers to heal, and Mudiwar's tragic refusal to take part in the Time of the Eagle. Lastly, I told of my escape, and the help I had from Ishtok.

When I had finished Salverion asked me a few questions, mainly about the healing skills my mother had taught me, and the way they had been lost. “Most of the powers my mother taught me she learned from my father when they were in Taroth Fort,” I said. “Some she has taught me, but not all. Some, she said, are a high lot secret.”

“That they are,” said Salverion. “Your father was bound by vows never to teach the skills he learned from us. But when he left the Citadel, I released him from those vows. I knew he would share
his skills wisely, with another healer who was worthy. I'm glad he found that healer, and that she, too, has found a worthy student. You are a gifted woman, Avala.”

“I'm not feeling gifted,” I said. “The Igaal, I should have been able to heal them, even when they were bad to me. My father loved an enemy people. I should have been able to love the Igaal.”

Salverion smiled, and it was like a blessing on me. “You know the secret of healing, then,” he said.

“I know it is love,” I replied. “But I failed in it.”

“You did not fail,” he said. “You say that your father loved an enemy people, and that you, too, should have been able to love your enemies. But your father loved the Shinali for lifelong reasons, very deep, that even I did not really understand. From his childhood his destiny was bound with theirs. And when he finally met them, it was for him like a homecoming. I saw it in him, the pleasure when he mentioned them, when he spoke of your mother. The Shinali were not enemies to him. You, on the other hand, did go to an enemy people, willingly and bravely, and you healed them, believing it was your destiny. For that you were enslaved and starved. The healing that we teach, that your mother taught you, is very much from the heart and the spirit, from the very core of ourselves. And if our heart is hurt, our spirit wounded or weak, then healing is extremely hard, sometimes impossible—even for masters like me, or like your father.”

I asked him about my father then, and he told me. Most of it I knew from my mother, but it was good to hear the words from someone else who loved him, who had seen another side of him. “He was the most gifted person I ever taught,” Salverion said, in finishing. “Also the most compassionate and just. But he was
unsure at times, afraid, hardly believing in his own gifts. And he had his faults. He was outspoken and could be childish at times, if he thought he was right and the rest of the world was wrong. I remember getting quite angry with him once and had to remind myself of how young he was, how unskilled in the ways of the world. I suppose that was one of the reasons I loved him; he was unspoiled, innocent, and incredibly honest. Like you, he struggled at times with the world he was forced to become a part of, with people who were false or unjust. He battled with inner hurts—and, I suspect, in the end, he battled with his own destiny. It is a struggle I think you may share with him, Avala.”