Chapter 35: Too Many Names
The Mother had returned to the Loteri Lands. Beyond that, nobody knew when she would reach Tavra Sol.
Rain answered the question.
It struck the settlement without warning. No clouds had gathered over the steppe. The wind had not changed. People stopped beneath the sudden downpour and looked up.
Then someone said, “The Mother.”
That was enough.
The Elders headed for the Circle as quickly as dignity, age and unreliable health permitted. The rest of Tavra Sol emptied towards the settlement entrance. Meals, tools and unfinished work were abandoned. Children were pulled along by wet hands. Hunters arrived carrying whatever weapons they had been holding. Healers came with bags and herbs.
By the time they reached the road, everyone was soaked. People spread along both sides and left the centre clear. Nobody had seen the Mother yet. Nobody needed confirmation. Rain did not fall from a clear sky in the dry season by accident.
Water gathered on the ground ahead. Instead of sinking into the thirsty earth, it joined into a broad reflective sheet. The crowd fell silent. The Wander Mirror opened.
The Mother Drommala crossed first.
Her enormous head emerged through the reflection, followed by her shoulders and vast blue-and-copper body. She stepped onto the wet Steppe and paused. The rain weakened at once. The last drops caught on her scales and shone there like hundreds of tiny mirrors.
Those who could kneel did. Those unable to kneel bowed as deeply as their knees and backs allowed. The Mother watched them.
Liana emerged next, leading Ineya. Dorian followed with Toren’s horse. Liana signalled to the nearest handlers, and both animals were taken away.
The Mother occupied most of the road. Liana walked behind her. Dorian moved slightly ahead and took his place beside the Mother’s trunk.
The Mother started towards Tavra Sol, slow and unhurried.
People bowed as she passed. Some pressed mirrors to their chests. Others touched their foreheads to the wet earth. Children stared until adults pulled them down. One old man remained kneeling after the Mother had passed, weeping openly into both hands.
Dorian looked away.
Then the whispers changed. “Mirrorwalker.”
Several people looked at him. A woman recognised him, then saw his eyes and stepped back. Silver still covered them completely.
Ahead, several people stood with raven feathers braided into their hair. Raven Kin. They did not kneel. As the Mother approached, each pressed a hand over the heart. “Greetings to the Mother.”
Their attention shifted to Dorian. “And to Mirror Raven.”
The feather brand on his arm warmed beneath his sleeve. He touched it instinctively. Several nearby Loteri noticed. Heads turned. Dorian inclined his head to the Ravens.
Amusement brushed the connection with the Mother.
Of course.
The road ended at the ceremonial ground. Red cloth, dark with rain, hung from posts. Mirrors tied with red thread caught fragments of blue scales, copper plates and silver eyes. The Circle waited ahead, wet, muddy and maintaining the impressive fiction that everything had happened exactly as planned. Representatives of the Desert, Forest and River peoples stood among them.
The Mother stopped.
Liana stepped forward and spoke first in Common, then repeated the words in the Steppe tongue. “The Mother Drommala has heard our request. She has accepted it.”
Relief moved through the gathered Loteri. Some lowered their heads. Someone behind Dorian began crying.
“But her answer carries conditions.” Liana stepped back.
The Mother turned one mirrored eye towards Dorian. The connection opened. Meaning came without force. Nothing entered his thoughts. Nothing took his voice. His words, then. Trust apparently came with additional duties.
He faced the Circle. “The Mother will entrust another daughter to the Loteri Lands. No commune shall claim her above another. None shall possess her. None shall command her. Her safety comes before border, custom, pride or need.”
The meaning continued. “The death of the daughter who came before must be investigated until its cause is known. If another’s will hastened her death, those responsible will answer for it.”
One final thought settled. “Her decision is made. She will renew the Pact under these conditions.”
Nobody answered immediately. The silence was not hesitation. Dorian understood that much.
Four representatives stepped forward: Steppe, Desert, Forest, and River. Each gave their name and spoke for their people. Then, one after another, they repeated the oath in Common and their own tongue.
“We will guard without chains.”
Each knelt before the Mother and pressed a small mirror to their forehead.
Elder Mother Elasya struck her staff once. “The Loteri accept.”
Dorian carried the words through the connection. The Mother answered.
“She has heard you,” he translated. “She accepts your oath.”
The relief around them changed shape. Not celebration yet. Something quieter. The release of a fear carried too long.
The Pact was renewed.
The Mother moved towards the protected ground at the edge of Tavra Sol.
Only then did Dorian see how much had been prepared while they were away. Forest healers stood beside Steppe ones. Desert shamans tended smoking herbs. River priests carried life water and narrow mirrors wrapped in blue cloth. Warriors from all four Loteri peoples guarded the perimeter.
Tavra Sol had not spent the last weeks merely praying and worrying. They had organised their worrying.
A huge tent stood inside the protected ground, open at the front and large enough for the Mother. Thick animal skins, broad sleeping mats and cushions covered the earth inside. Hunters held the outer line while healers and shamans laid protective spells, apparently determined to defend against every malicious magic known to the Loteri.
Liana took one look and nodded in approval.
Dorian smiled privately.
The Mother noticed.
The Loteri are very thorough when frightened.
He looked at the guards, wards and enough protective herbs to smoke half of Tavra Sol. “They have had a difficult few weeks.”
So have you.
“That has never made me organised.”
Her delight touched the connection.
A broad stone basin stood before the tent. The Mother drank deeply from the life water, emptying most of it in one attempt. Two River priests hurried to refill it with admirable professionalism.
Then she turned one mirrored eye towards Dorian.
I need solitude. The daughter must begin without voices near me.
Dorian glanced at the impressive number of people surrounding her solitude. He kept the observation to himself.
You are released from your duty.
“For how long?”
You will know when I need you. Follow the Call.
Then came another thought.
Go. Before they give you another name.
Dorian looked towards the Circle. “Finally, sensible advice.”
The Mother moved towards the tent. Whispers had already begun around the perimeter. Prayers, blessings, invocations and enough sacred enthusiasm to disturb something that had specifically requested solitude.
The Mother stopped. Her irritation brushed against Dorian.
And for the Wise One’s sake, tell them to be quieter.
He lowered his head before anyone noticed the smile. “The Mother requests silence.”
The whispers died immediately. A priest in the middle of a blessing stopped with both hands raised. The Mother entered the tent.
Dorian remained where he was for another moment. The entrance closed behind her beneath layers of red cloth and protective threads. For the first time since they had crossed the lake, he was not responsible for interpreting. The relief was almost physical.
The Mother’s warning about names came too late. The Circle summoned Liana almost immediately. Dorian was asked to remain. Asked, apparently, in the Loteri sense of the word.
Elder Mother Elasya looked at Liana. “Tell us.”
Liana began in the Steppe tongue. Dorian understood almost nothing, which for the first minute was unexpectedly comfortable. He sat beside the Circle and listened without trying to follow.
Then Liana said, “Mirrorwalker.”
Several Elders looked at him. A little later came another phrase he recognised. “Mirror Raven.”
Elder Mother Elasya’s gaze dropped towards his arm.
Dorian inclined his head slightly. “I assume congratulations are appropriate.”
Nobody reacted to his words. Liana continued. Then came Veyran. Veyra 16 followed soon after. Dorian recognised both with significant discomfort.
One Elder interrupted with a question. Then another. Liana answered the first briefly, the second at considerably greater length. By the time she finished, the mood around the Circle had changed. Several Elders looked towards Dorian.
“In my defence, Veyran was unpleasant before we arrived.”
The Circle maintained admirable collective deafness.
Toren’s name came next, followed several times by Aren Thal. That brought more questions, though not as many. Liana answered them and continued.
Acalith came later.
This time the interruption was immediate. One Elder asked something sharply. Another joined in before Liana had finished answering. She waited for them to stop, replied, then carried on.
After another minute, she switched to Common. “We reached the Mother’s world.”
She described the endless water, the mirrored eyes of the creatures and the Mother’s presence everywhere around them.
Elder Mother Elasya went still. “The Sacred Shelter.”
Liana frowned. “What?”
“The Mother’s refuge,” Elasya said. “No living Loteri has ever reached it. It seems you and Toren have.”
Liana looked at Dorian. He looked back. Useful information. Slightly late.
“Toren returned with us,” Liana continued. “He went to the Pain Monastery after we crossed back into the Steppe. He will bring Aren Thal’s answers.”
Elasya nodded once. Two Elders exchanged a few quiet words.
Then Liana looked towards Dorian. “Without Mirrorwalker Dorian Corvell, we would not have reached the Mother.”
Dorian stared at her. This much praise from Liana was deeply unnatural.
“He opened the mirrors. He spoke with her when we could not. He carried our request and her answer.”
Several Elders looked towards him.
Dorian sighed. “Whatever she is saying, I object to the amount of respect it is generating.”
One Elder smiled.
Liana ignored the comment. “The Mother chose to return. Dorian witnessed her answer and the renewal of the Pact.”
That was apparently enough. Liana stopped. Silence remained around the Circle for several seconds. Elder Mother Elasya rose. The others followed.
Her attention settled on Liana first. “You left Tavra Sol as our guide. You crossed lands beyond our maps and worlds beyond our knowledge. You kept the path when it could be kept and found another when it could not.”
Liana straightened her back.
“You guided those entrusted to you to the Mother. You guided the Pact back to the Loteri Lands.” Elder Mother Elasya placed a hand over her heart. “The Circle names you Guide of the Pact.”
For once, Liana looked caught off guard. Only briefly. She bowed. “I accept.”
Elasya turned to Dorian. “Dorian Corvell. Mirrorwalker. Mirror Raven.”
There it was. The Mother had warned him.
“You crossed where we could not. You carried our words before the Mother and returned with her answer. You stood as witness when the Pact was renewed.” A pause. “The Circle names you Witness of the Pact.”
Dorian looked briefly towards the Mother’s tent. Very funny. Then he bowed. “I accept the honour, Elder Mother.”
“As Witness of the Pact, you will always be received among the Steppe Loteri. Food, shelter and protection will not be refused to you.” Elder Mother Elasya struck her staff twice.
That killed the joke. Permanent guest rights meant something. The Steppe did not give protection lightly. Dorian knew enough by now to understand what had just been placed around him.
He bowed more deeply. “Then you have my gratitude.”
When he straightened, the Elders were still looking at him. Being tolerated had been considerably easier.
One Elder cleared her throat. “You have travelled far. The Loteri are waiting to bathe you.”
Dorian blinked. Liana closed her eyes. They were wet, filthy and exhausted. Under different circumstances, the offer would have been excellent.
Dorian also remembered his first ceremonial bath in Tavra Sol rather too well. “Your hospitality is appreciated, but sleep would be the greater kindness.”
“Sleep,” Liana agreed immediately.
The refusal was accepted without offence. Elder Mother Elasya led them outside.
Dorian stopped. Two groups were waiting. The first, clearly intended for Liana, consisted entirely of bare-chested men in linen trousers. The second included women and men. Dorian nearly laughed.
“That,” he murmured, “is remarkably considerate.”
Liana looked sideways at him. “Do not.”
“I said nothing.”
“You were about to.”
One of the men from Dorian’s group stepped forward hopefully. He looked around fifty, perhaps older. Tanned, broad-shouldered and muscular, with silver hair and a neatly kept beard. Strikingly handsome. Dorian almost regretted his decision. Almost.
Elder Mother Elasya struck her staff once. “The Guide of the Pact and the Witness of the Pact are going to rest.”
The groups bowed and dispersed without protest.
Dorian watched the silver-haired man go. “Efficient.”
“You are disappointed.” Liana grinned.
“Deeply.”
“You can barely stand.”
“I can be exhausted and appreciative at the same time.”
Liana snorted and kept walking. Ahead of them, Elder Mother Elasya did not turn. Dorian suspected she was smiling.