The Woven End Page 6

  It was the code. She understood.

  #

  The course of Sidita’s studies passed from geography, general manners, figures and mathematics into the ways of the court, royal history, botany, astronomy, sewing, trotting, and other activities for the Trilandrian ladies of upper classes. An expert in fashion tutored her concerning fabrics and fashion. Cova hired a master of the organiom to begin a more rigorous training in the art, as well.

  Tapa and the other children were not favored but were not forgotten. They grew and learned according to their abilities, receiving every comfort and advantage available to younger children of an upper class family. The separation between Sidita and her siblings became so decided that it felt as though they were no family at all. Sidita’s studies and lessons kept her from time with them, and the children simply did not know each other any longer. They had a sparse few hours to play together every day because Cova insisted that Sidita be permitted to run free in the Star light for her health, but even then they left each other alone. Sidita often reflected on this phenomenon. She looked at each member of her family, including herself, wondering how such a change could happen so quickly. They looked better, they smelled better, they, by the standards of many, lived better, and yet they were far from each other’s arms when they needed it most.

  In contrast, by the age of fifteen, no uncle and niece could ever be found that were closer than Cova and Sidita. She often felt that she loved him more than she ever loved her ama or apa. She tried to shut those thoughts out. They made her feel ashamed.

  Cova's words were gold, and all that he did, right and wise. She bowed her head in submission upon his castigations, and she sought only to please him as though her soul were his own possession. Being indebted to her uncle, a great deal more than she could ever repay, gave her a sense of duty to him. Only in submitting to and loving him could she express her gratitude.

  With one star remaining before she reached the age of marriage, Cova and Sidita sat in the study preparing for the Star fall’s lessons. Cova did not sit down, nor did he instruct her to do so. He faced the wall of books behind his desk for a time before turning to face her, his fists clenched and jaw tightly contracted.

  “You learned theAlchemine code by rote.” He sat down and fiddled with a piece of paper. "I hear such foul laws of men and it makes my blood to boil in me. Foolish restrictions laid down for weak souled humans who could not control themselves. Do you acknowledge that humans made this code, Sidita?"

  "Of course, Uncle.”

  He leaned forward, looking at her as he continued. "There are things of great beauty that are only born of ancient wisdom. Can you comprehend this?"

  Sidita nodded.

  He sat back in his chair to look out his window as he spoke. "We have shunned a superior power and wisdom, older than humanity, due to the misuse of a few."

  He opened his mouth, as if to say more, but closed his lips with haste. He opened them again.

  "I must tell you what happened to me: why I am here and no longer on Bos, and why you never knew of me until the moment of your amar's desperation."

  "If it pleases you, Uncle."

  "I met a slyte." He looked at Sidita from the corner of his eye. "I had been warned against them, just as you have. 'They will control you,' they said. 'Once you are bound to a shadow beast you are forever their slave. You cannot be loosed.'

  "I heard all of the warnings, but I realized, like any sentient being, humans included, we are capable of both evil and good. I trust those who are friendly to me. Sometimes it proves error, but often my trusts are not mislaid.

  "In short, this slyte was friendly to me and trained me in slyte weaving. It served as a life-giving spirit for all of the other spirits we work with. It made the impossible to be possible, and it fed my passion for the art, causing my skills to flourish and produce fruit. I made nothing harmful, I brought no curses on anyone, but because I was able to transform myself into an animal, because I could control the wind and the rain, because I could do what required a slyte's aid, because I did not believe that nature is completion, I became an outcast and they put me out of the community.

  "When they put me out, I found no one with me except for my slyte. It alone remained my companion and friend. While I wandered the island, destitute and homeless, it provided eternal fire for me that could withstand wind and rain. Other times it provided the means to transform myself into any animal necessary in order to dwell with others of the species for warmth and survival.

  "In time, my skill in slyte weaving brought me great success in everything I committed myself to. By listening to my slyte friend, I gained wisdom to direct and organize others. I ascended the ladder within business on Sakat and became known to all. I entered into a place of prominence, and I was placed before the king as a candidate for governor only because of the ancient wisdom that humans do not know. Needless to say, I attained to that position." He gestured to his desk with a fluid sweep of the hand.

  "No human, myself included, played a part in my good fortune. I owe it all to the slyte. It, like me, is the outcast among its kind, while its kind remain outcasts among spirits. It understood me and took pity."

  Sidita heard only one tale of such blatant dealings with slytes. The story of Queen Nuneh was washed white by the majority, but among the Alchemines it was a tale of great horror. Sidita felt a childish terror at the idea of her uncle working with a slyte. However, the slyte Nuneh dealt with was a unique one, and Cova, of course, was not speaking of that slyte. Perhaps it was not as bad as she thought.

  The story of Queen Nuneh could easily be cast off as a myth by most, but Cova’s story during such a day and age, by such a person as the governor, could not be so easily disregarded.

  Sidita stammered out a reply to the story, "Was… was the slyte that spoke with me your… friend?"

  "I suspect it was, judging from the manner with which it spoke to you."

  "But… slytes stay with you, do they not? Why would your slyte leave you to speak with me?"

  "Ah, yes. You see, it doesn't pay to eschew everything that we don't understand and label it ‘evil’ as though it were a clear jar containing pickled eggs. They've fed you pickled eggs for several years, but the truth is that slytes are neither pickled, nor are they eggs, and they are, most certainly, not in a clear jar to be easily recognized without a test of taste.

  "They remain themselves, but can be in many places at once if they have more than one human friend. However, it does not own me any more than I own it. It is free to leave my presence, to return, and to leave again, if it wished."

  "It… replicates?”

  “Not exactly. It is all one slyte, but slyte’s are the blackness of the Sálverøld. They have a special skill that allows them to take form. They are, yet, of one piece of cloth. If one slyte appears to replicate itself, it is merely stretching itself. One consciousness, more than one form.”

  “If it is not joined to you, why does it need you in order to ‘stretch’ itself?”

  Cova smiled and laughed an empty laugh.

  “I see only benefits. Sidita, imagine, please, how much good a person can do when they have the power that a slyte offers? Imagine it! The slytes created the world, and now they sit dormant. Perhaps this is the next step… creating with humanity. We may have to participate out of necessity someday. Nature was complete as long as things were right, but what if nature stopped being complete? What if it will only get worse?”

  “You do not believe nature is completion?” He said it earlier, but it registered in her mind now.

  He tipped his head to the side, cringing.

  Sidita's mouth fell open. He didn't think nature was completion as the Alchemines did?

  Heretic. Heretic!

  She took a deep breath and proceeded, "Dear Uncle, I cannot accept this. Ancient slytes were preceded by the ancient order of the Great Soul. Its order is complete and right. We must be held to principles, or we will be found to fight against the Great So
ul. The world would be in chaos if we did whatever we pleased.

  “Oh, I wish for a fine star, today! Well, the other girl across town wishes for a rainy day. What will we do? No one will die, and yet people will be murderered… My apa’s face was caved in by some murdering weaver. Without the code of the ancient wisdom that precedes slytes, what shall we do?”

  Cova smiled, pleasantly surprised by her outburst. "I knew you were a spirited girl, you simply needed the right provocation." He chuckled. "Your concerns are valid. Tell me something… a child who is born deformed—are they an example of nature in completion?"

  Sidita didn't know what to say. Her fine eyebrows lowered, and the fire in her eyes extinguished.

  Cova continued, "What about the child who is dead in its mother's womb? What about the whirlwind that destroys homes? Ah, and tell me, what about death? Do you realize that the spirits do not die? You hold such a loyalty to nature, but nature does not hold loyalty to you. Nature is loyal to itself and its spirits, not you and me. Nature is complete only in non-sentient nature, not in humanity. We have evolved consciousness. We must protect ourselves. What is the use of weaving if we are limited to the piddly weavings that do nothing? As it is, we have so few legal weavings because we are afraid that something will violate the principles we hold so dear. The line is dreadfully fuzzy, and the Great Soul must be very easily offended."

  Sidita's face grew hot. Why did nature allow humans, the only ones with hearts to be broken and souls that could be crushed, to be the suffering victims in this thing called life?

  Nevertheless, she answered, “To honor the Great Soul.”

  “To honor the Great Soul? Ah, but who is the Great Soul? We have lost sight of it stars ago! All we know is that it is great, that it has potential for great love, and that it is over all. It has abandoned us to nature and left things to decay. You know the story! Why, the Great Soul could be your neighbor, your brother, a tree, the silver sky… or the slyte that is a soul.”

  Cova continued, “I want you to train with my closest slyte, it is a very special creature. It is a soul and not a spirit. It is comprised of more than the blackness, possessing more than one spirit. It is a very great soul, indeed. Whether or not it is the Great Soul, you must decide."

  The thought dismayed her, but she did not demonstrate the repulsion she might have only a few moments ago.

  "It will teach you slyte weavings. You are an expert in the Alchemine way due to your application and the marvelous gift that fate has given you. You have nothing left but the ancient wisdom and weavings to learn. All the principles are in you, if not the exact form and fashion." He placed his hand firmly on the desk and settled the matter. "Yes, you must train with the slyte. It is necessary for your success in my hopes for you."

  She balked. She submitted to him in all things, at all times, but submission to this seemed converted to perversion. Here is where the line must be drawn. It was one thing to, perhaps, have your opinion changed on the matter of slytes, but to actively involve yourself with one?

  "Nay, Uncle. I must not. I cannot."

  "You've always trusted me before, Sidita. Why do you not trust me now?"

  "I trust you. The slyte I do not."

  "It is an old friend. I trust it implicitly. My wish is that you will do the same."

  Cova's eyes were affectionate, and his hands held out to her in such pleading gesture, she could not resist. Her Uncle, her sole advisor and proprietor, was no fool. She must trust him, for if not him, then whom?

  "You will not leave us alone?" She asked.

  He smiled and shook his head. "I would not leave the room for a moment. Step into the Sálverøld and we shall all talk together."

  She entered the Sálverøld and looked at her uncle, waiting for the slyte to bubble out of him and separate itself like oil in water, but it did not. It approached her from a corner of the room. With much clearer voice than it had when it last communicated with her, it asked,

  "Do you remember me?"

  She nodded her head.

  "Cova wishes me to teach you what I’ve taught him. Are you willing?" It asked.

  "As long as you do not touch me," she said.

  On this she would not bend.

  A staccato murmur emanated from the being. It agreed that it would not touch her unless she extended an invitation.

  “Though, I assure you, no harm would come.of it.”

  #

  Slyte weaving began in the Star rise. Sidita received a note from her uncle instructing her to meet him in the forest clearing. The large grassy clearing, which his family frequented for picnics and retreats, was about a mile from the governor's mansion.

  "…Come on foot,” the note read.

  She set the note on her table and, taking note of the brightness of the Star, selected her wide brimmed hat and slid on her riding shoes for the trek. Halfway to the clearing, not yet within the bounds of the forest, the Star's uncomfortable heat made the short journey seem endless. The forest promised sweet coolness and, by comparison, made the heat bearing down on her all the more unbearable.

  She grumbled to herself, "On foot. By the stars, on foot! Raise me up from a farmer's daughter to a governor's and then expect me to withstand heat like this. Intentionally making me more delicate and—"

  "You could cool it off."

  Quickly, she peered into the Sálverøld. The slyte stood before her like a cloaked coachman in the Star fall, waiting to escort her to unknown regions of the globe.

  "Where is my uncle?" She demanded.

  "In the clearing, waiting for you."

  "I have no desire to be alone with you. Let me pass by."

  The slyte did not regard her order. "It's very simple, really. You just need a little rain."

  "Get—"

  "And a small dose of wind."

  She tried to feign fearlessness, but the slyte's persistence broke her. She was too afraid to challenge it any longer. "Very well. Show me."

  "Go up."

  "Up?"

  "Yes, you can go up."

  She willed her soul to leave the ground. She could touch the spirit sky, composed of the silver cords of humanity, if she wished.

  "Now, do not go all the way to the silver cords. There is a layer before that. Grasp some of the azure," the slyte instructed.

  "What are they? Where are they?"

  "You cannot see them from here. You will know when you get there."

  She pushed herself upward. Before she reached the silver cords she entered a layer of gelatinous, blue and white globules. They skittered here and there, bumping into one another and multiplying with each bump. She grasped for a few of the azures and returned to the ground.

  "Now," the slyte began, "Stretch it and cast it. Then take an air soul."

  She followed its instruction.

  "Now, cast it away from you like a stone in a sling and, as you do, choose your direction. North or south or— Well, you understand."

  "What will it do?" She asked.

  "Nothing harmful. Trust your uncle."

  Not without reluctance, she drew back her arm, her hand filled with squirming blobs of light blue, and threw them.

  "North."

  She perceived sound, not as in the natural world, but by the soul's understanding. A spiritual sound like a gust of wind whipping around the corners of a building.

  It frightened her.

  Jarred from the Sálverøld, she blinked several times before she became aware of cool droplets on her body. A gentle rain accompanied by a cool breeze and clouds shielding her from the Star.

  "Return," the slyte whispered.

  She returned to the Sálverøld.

  The azure globules she had thrown away from her, multiplied, tinted with amber now, falling from the Sálverøld sky.

  The slyte caught one of the falling spirits and absorbed it, turning itself blue and amber before expelling it and tossing it into the air. It seemed as though it were playing.

  "You may direct it now. Yo
u can send it in ghusts to any direction with a solid sweep of your soul."

  Sidita swept her arm out and sent the rain shooting to the west, then the east, then the south, and again to the north.

  She stood still and silent.

  She did not care about the cool raindrops falling on her body. She heard and saw nothing except the slyte that swayed to and fro before her. Slyte weaving did not require contact with a slyte. She’d been deceived. Cova was right. If she had self-control, the slyte weavings would be useful to all.

  Her Star no longer rose in the sky, setting her hours and days and stars for her, her Star hovered before her. A figure of glorious darkness. In a singular, single moment of time, the greatest of all human soul intoxicants, namely power, took an irrevocable grasp on the center of her being and shifted the focus of her life onto this slyte.

  Nature demanded that all be its subjects, but she would not be. Nature had only brought her suffering.

  Why should she be subject to nature? The entity who leaves its finest, most intelligent invention to the venom of death and the suffering that lurked behind every corner of a human's life? Now she had subjects of her own. The wind and the rain did obeisance to her. Perhaps life and death might do the same. It was not power for the sake of tyranny or manipulation, but the power to do what is good and to destroy what is bad.

  She would love nothing again as she loved this slyte. Had it asked to be bound to her in that moment, she would not dare to deny it.

  It didn't.

  #

  Sidita spent the remainder of her last star of childhood studying the usual subjects and learning the slyte weavings by star fall. The lightning became her plaything, and water became ice on a hot day. Along with the patterns came the slyte's wisdom: knowledge of the inner workings of the human soul, the manner in which the stars unravel the spirits, and many things that Sidita, being a human, could hardly retain.

  Her mind and heart, full of life as the slyte revealed it, allowed the star to pass in a blur. While she once considered the separation of her siblings from her, she now paid them little thought at all.