The Book of Tales: "The Forgivers"

At the funeral ceremony of Mithar's first Queen, the distraught King Vedumar leaned over to his advisor, "Why has this affair not begun? Two days now and it has not begun. Do you not smell the corpse from here, despite all the lit oils and herbs?"

"My Lord King, the people still await the arrival of the Kubael," his counselor whispered in return.

"Kubael? What is this I have not been made aware of until now?"

Näahdaw heard the escalation in Vendumar's tone.

"Kubael - is a Forgiver, sire," Näahdaw's voice was low and calm. He continued, "Lord, you must not forget that these Bedouins have given up much in their compliance to your crown. Yet are they staunch in their unmoving belief in this unwavering custom."

Vendumar remained perplexed, "Pray, and what custom is this that I must now be made to submit to?"

"Sire, your wife, our Queen is and was first and foremost a Nasilian, and a 'Cicadite most faithful'." A stern smile came over the Counselor's face, "You saw both the gold and copper coins placed over her Ladyship's eyes? They are for more than closing them; they are paying for services rendered by the Kubael. The flatbread dripped with three drops of the Queen's blood, that was placed atop her bosom was to absorb her -- sin, Sire. For all eternity she will be forgotten and annihilated to be unremembered. Yet, it is the voluntary task of the Kubael to accept the fate of being unremembered and eternally banished, until summoned for this task of forgiving the Queen's sin."

"A sin-eater? What is this superstitious rubbish, in our time and age," Vendumar blurted aloud!

"One that in time my lord you may devise a way out of, but as for today without his services the people are content in themselves to allow your wife to rot where she now lays," this Näahdaw did not whisper as all eyes fell on the King in validation.

Vendumar's sigh and slumping shoulders showed his resignation to allow the ceremony to continue.

The murmuring and mourning sobs all fell silent as the rear of the crowds began parting a pathway to the raised dais of the Queen Nalawë. A stranger had entered into their midst. He was dressed, from head to bare feet, all in black; his robe's high, oversized hood was draped back. The man's face was half concealed by the masking of the hood's removal. Only his darkened outlined eyes were seen. The figure's face, slicked-back hair, hands, and bare feet were caked in a cracking white paint. The Kubael smelt unbathed and looked like Death personified.

The strange figure approached the Queen's body and slowly removed the coins with both hands, slipping them soundlessly into previously unnoticed outer pockets. Then, taking the flatbread, he tore it in half and ate it until fully consumed, then turned back and left as eerily as he had entered. A breath later all the sounds of whaling cries continued as before.

Vendumar looked utterly spent emotionally, a changed figure from that moment onward.

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Mayor Kalena

[The Watcher's Book: VENDURMAR]

   News came to the ear of the king one day, by word of his cup bearer, that the people had become too many and bored with life behind the walls.  “Their excitement of such new and different things, have made them complacent and in need of redirection, lest they begin to find pleasure in strife and rally against you.” 

   Clapping his hands the king called for his Spiritual advisor and Chef of Arms.  He shared what his cup bearer had said and agreed with his words, “Go out think on this matter for your selves and in one hour return as to what shall be done.”

   After they left Vendumar told the cup bearer to tell the kitchen to make a meal and have four settings prepared.  At the hour’s end a table had been so set as ordered.  When the Spiritual advisor and Chef of Arms returned they saw the king being served wine by the cup bearer beside him.  Vendumar asked, “Well, speak plainly.”

   The Chef Guard, Legandriel began, “Sire, it is true the entering people have overwhelmed Mithar, and their only intent is to claim homes for themselves with no regards to heritage or how the provisions came to be.  They have become drunk from the bounty, and yes sire rumors that the Watchers are less than once thought.”

   Looking at Vethdema, his spiritual advisor, “What do you say?”

   Vethdema echoed the same, adding, “Sire, if I may – a way of earning these ‘blessings’ might be devised that would encourage more willing citizens of our original intent as teachers to the ‘lesser’ men.”

   Vendumar smiled, being greatly pleased, “Understood.”  Turning to his cup bearer, the king introduced, “This man here, Kalena by name, had no fear in sharing this truth with me.  Because of that, and the respect I have witnessed first-hand; I name you as the Mayor of Mithar.  As the people reenter the city I think it would be best to see one of their own leading them. You shall be second only to myself.  Your greatest advisors shall be these two here.  As quickly as you rose surely may you fall; we all know this to be true.  Now, come you three dine and tell me more.  I am hungry for meat and your councils both.”

   Slowly over the weeks a teaching school within the tower was setup.  It also was devised that only those who attended such training were allowed to reside within the protective walls of the city.  In this way was the city regained from the Nasil without bloodshed; and the power of the king grew.  The basic need for masons to repair the southern wall, and teaching desert dwellers how to fish came as among the first lessons to be taught.  Later great houses grew out from the tower each with a degree plan and skill.  In time the Priesthood grew stronger devising coded lessons and password making it even more challenging to reside in Mithar Its wealth and prestige grew as well.

  

Kimashe and the Bleeding Stones

THE WATCHER'S BOOK
VENDUMAR

   In the early morning hours King Vendumar was awaken by a horrific nightmare but told no one of its details.  He called for his Councilors: Spiritual Advisor, Chef Guard and the Mayor of Mithar.  Though their conversations eased him back to a waking state, none could tell him his dream or its meaning.

   The Mayor said, “Forgive me O King, but there is one from the Nasilian camp named Kimashe, called a Seer by her people.  It is said that ‘she knows the unknown and can discern the yet to be’, sire.”

   Vendumar replied, “You are all good as you are but in this matter – bring her before me, but do not breathe a word as to why.  That I may know she is true or false.”

   Going out to the tent city of Slavath, a mile from the city gate of Mithar they searched her out.  At a blue tent on the outside of the settlement Kalena, the Mayor and two tower guards dismounted their steads as he called out her name.  From within the tent, she called them inside.  The tent looked much grander and larger on the inside than its small outside appearance.  Many colored veils and lit candles were everywhere, bones and feather and furs.  Rising from a pillowed seat a young woman said, “He has cried for three nights, but only this morning has he begged an answer from you and two others.  Even now he orders me to appear for a meaning of his woe.”

   “How did –,” began Kalena?

   But Kimashe replied in haste, “We must go.”  She walked as the three others rode horseback refusing to be lifted up.  Through the great statued gate, down the cobbled stone streets to the many stairs of Varlendur they soon came before the king in his tower.

   Behind the King’s throne the wall was a painted with a scene of the Great Departure; the boarding of the last swan ship.  For all his power Vendumar had no understanding of his own dream.  Coming before the king, Kalena introduced her, “Sire, here is the Nasilian Seer, Kimashe by name lord.”

   Kimashe stood dressed in a white hooded robe, both hands and bare feet adorned with rings and bracelets; she was covered in tattoos.  Her face was sand white, and hair black as coal.  Just as King Vendumar was about to speak, she spoke instead, “The bleeding-eye crows have nothing better to do than to torment you for the last three night of your sleep, and wrestle with your thoughts in the day, mi lord.  Shaken and crying in the night like an abandon child in a sand storm.  I tell you now oh King to command your scribe to write down all that I say; and the day my words perish is the day the dreams return worse than before.”

  Vendumar nodded, even as the scribe was already fast at his work.  Then the king asked, “What was the dream and its meaning, child?”

   “A bleeding eye crow sat on a huge cut stone lying on its side.  The crow flew to the ground as the pillar was raised.  Four times this happened.  Yet amid the standing stones were six bleeding eye crows walking about on the blood soaked ground.”

   The king was happy to have found someone who could tell him his dream but was in awe at who spoke the words.  The one before him was no more than a child of eight, but her maturity was more.  Vendumar inquired, “There was another.”

  Kimashe looked very grave, “Indeed there was sire.  For all six crows came together as one making a seventh larger crow.  The seventh crow had white bleeding eyes and a forked tongue like a snake.  The large, sharped tongue crow began pecking at a gold, ringlet-leaf crown, like yours.  It filled with holes and each one was bleeding, before it fell apart and melted into the blood soaked ground.”

   Falling back into his throne with great fright, Vendumar gasped, “Come wicked child!  Pray tell me surely the meaning of such disgust and mare as this thing you have made plan to me and all here.  These are the very things indeed that have so plagued me!”

  Both of her arms rose out and became stiff.  Her fingers went jagged and ridged as her own grey eyes began to bleed.  Suddenly her gentle voice sounded like that of an old man, “Six shall come, and four be slain and their black words shall see much blood spilt.  A seventh shall rise greater than the six.  Embolden by them the very king who hears him shall be the final one!”   After her prophecy she collapsed to the floor.  Upon standing she was as before.

  The entire room was much worried by her words.  Vendumar said, “No one shall speak against the king.  The king himself, alone shall reprieve or condemn any who do for that is what kings do; fate and judgement.  In this matter, I perceive you have spoken truthfully without malice.  We shall strive in our reign to cause only light, good and harmony to continue in -.”

   “What of Varlendur and the dungeon renown through Eriduah; and you as holder of its iron key?” Kimashe interrupted.

  Vendumar saw this was no child before him but something greater, “You have been afforded good will up to this point, Seer of Nasil.  Watch your words and tone thereof.  There is a reason and season for that key and its business is no concern of yours.  Thank you for your service; you may either return to your old life or begin a new one here.”

  “I shall return unhindered either way.”  As she turned to leave the great tower doors flew open on their own accord to the dismay of all.


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