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Now Muriel plays piano, Every Friday at the Hollywood, And they brought me down to see her, And they asked me if I would, Do a little number, And I sang with all my might! She said, "Tell me, are you a Christian, child?" And I said, "Ma'am, I am tonight!" "Walking In Memphis" Marc Cohn This is the longest work I've attempted in a very long time, and by far the riskiest. Through its development I've referred, only half jokingly, to it as my "Salman Rushdie" piece. My husband, who is given to being overly kind where my writing is concerned, says that I worry about how people will react too much. Perhaps, perhaps not - we shall see. Anyone with a passing familiarity of Religion will be able to guess from the title that this piece deals in Religion, to put it more than a bit mildly. For those who are not familiar with the phrase or who know it only from the song by "Mr. Mister", Kyrie Eleison is an old Greek phrase meaning "Lord, have mercy upon us". It is a phrase used in Catholic and other Christian religious practices. Though this work deals in religion, I want to make it clear that it has *nothing* to do with the furor that has hit the list recently over "Making Lemonade". I am not unaware of the irony of my posting this story so shortly after that minor flamewar seems to have died down, but the two are not connected. I started this piece over a week ago, well before the flamewar started, and have been working on it since. It is now completed and so I post it now. I am not a particularly religious woman. I have my beliefs, strongly held, but they are not of the "go to a church and do X" sort. I do have at least a passing familiarity with the history, beliefs, and teachings of most of the major religions and more than a few of the minor ones (major and minor denoting size, not importance). I tend to believe that they all have much that is good and wise to teach us, much that is important. I do tend to be suspicious of organized religions, however. I tend to believe in the Dostoevskyian notion that any organization will, in the end, serve only itself first and foremost. All of that having been said, I am *not* given to trying to mock or make fun of anyone's beliefs. I am virtually certain that some will see this piece as a mockery of their religion, to that I can only say that is *not* my intention. I have tried to handle things with as much reverence and care as was possible, given the subject matter. The following story contains no harsh language or sexual situations. It does deal in religious matters, however, and those who feel they might be bothered by this are hereby advised to skip it, hit their delete key, and move on. Kyrie Eleison By Myria Prelude April 14, 2078 TO: EarthGov Council FROM: DivHead: DSA RE: Enclosed File The enclosed document was found by a deep space xeno-archeological team one month ago. Keep in mind that this is a preliminary translation, we are still working on some aspects of the language involved. Nevertheless, given the obvious cultural significance of this work, I have decided to forward the data and translation we currently have. The team involved is researching Cetti 6779-beta, a class H planet orbiting a class 5 star. The planet once supported a people that referred to themselves as the Morinar. The Morinar were, as far as we can determine, essentially human. At its peak their civilization and technology level are believed to have been roughly the same as ours, though we do not believe that they ever developed FTL travel or transmission capabilities. Approximately ten thousand years ago the Morinar apparently ceased to be. We do not know why or what happened to them, and that was the primary question the deep-space team was sent to try and answer. While the team learned much about them, unfortunately the eventual fate of the Morinar remains a mystery. The most surprising discovery the team made was an octahedron, measuring exactly nine meters between each termination, that had been placed on dark side of the smaller of the planet's two moons. A perfect, obviously grown, single diamond crystal. The team believes that it was purposefully placed there to preserve it. A kind of cultural record for any who might come later, much as our own Darkside Vault project. Each face of the diamond was carved with various texts and representations. The Morinar were careful to allow for enough information that we could start to build a translation database, which the team quickly got to work on. Occupying an entire face of the diamond, obviously something considered to be of great importance to the Morinar, was the document I present here. Given its obvious significance, the team worked on translating it first and once they realized what it was about they quickly beamed all of their data to Terra One. There is still much of the text on the diamond to be translated and I will not speculate on what else we may find. The team believes that the diamond was placed on that moon not very much before the Morinar ceased to be, perhaps only a few hundred years before. The document itself was clearly written much earlier in their history. Based on what of the historical texts have been so far analyzed, it is believed that the events described in this text occurred roughly four thousand years before the end of the Morinar, making it approximately fourteen thousand years ago. Given the contents of the document, I am at something of a loss. When you have read it you will know why I say that. Whether releasing it should be the province of Earthgov, UnLChurch, or some other entity is something that will have to be decided by the council. I do know that if something is not done soon we run the risk of it getting out regardless. Too many people know of it. My entire division staff has been in an uproar ever since we received the deep-space team's transmission. To be honest, I am somewhat surprised, if gratified, that it has not hit the network already. My recommendation, for what it's worth, is that it be released immediately. Despite being a preliminary translation, our confidence in it is quite high and what questions remain involve debates over minor political and cultural terms. Lorraine M. Johnston DivHead : DSA EarthGov Central Kyrie Eleison: Hira "Renounce his teachings!" The whipmaster screamed. "No," Marcus replied, his voice quiet and no longer defiant. The whip lashed out and struck Marcus across the chest, leaving a bloody line and quickly rising welt on his already tortured body. Marcus was so far gone that he barely cringed and only emitted a soft moan of pain. Chained to the pole in the center of the square he could no longer even hold himself up, he simply hung by the manacles around his wrists. A few of the guards laughed at Marcus' condition, others looked on in amazement at the amount of punishment Marcus had taken. A crowd of spectators had formed in the last hour, perhaps fifty people. Worthless people, did they enjoy this? Were they hoping to see a man die? Didn't they even care? Only the whipmaster seemed to show no emotion. "Deny him," the whipmaster said, "say that he is not a prophet, not a man of God, and all of this will end." "I cannot," Marcus said after a long moment, his voice so soft that only the movement of his lips gave away the words. I turned away as the whip came crashing down on Marcus' nearly nude body yet again. Hiding my face in my sleeve of my dress I wiped away the tears but it was useless, there were ever more to replace them. I cried not just for my friend, but for us all. How much more could Marcus take? If only I could tell him the truth and end this. Or would it, would Marcus deny the man he called Lord even if he knew the truth? Marcus was such a noble man, such a good man, perhaps even then he would not deny him. The whipmaster went to Marcus and, grabbing Marcus' hair, lifted his head to look into his eyes. "Do you love him?" The whipmaster asked. "Yes," Marcus said, his voice clear. "Then you will die with him." The whipmaster released Marcus and turned, motioned to the guards, and then walked away. The guards released Marcus from the whipping pole and led him away, back to prison. The spectators started to disperse, the entertainment done. Tomorrow few of them would even remember what Marcus had looked like, fewer still would ever know why he had been whipped. I stood there, staring at that horrid pole, the marks countless whips had made upon it, the drops of blood in the sand. I wanted to cry, to scream, to rail at the heavens, but I could not. It had all left me, I was empty of emotion save for the tears still in my eyes. How could things have gone so wrong, I wondered as I turned away from that horrible sight. How could we have been so wrong? How could he have lied to us like that? He was Hiran, I'd seen the scar myself. All that time and he'd never told us. Never told me. The blind leading the blinder. The market street was crowded this time of afternoon. The narrow way nearly blocked by all manner of vendors hawking all manner of wares on both sides of the street. I should have chosen another way, but there seemed little point to going back now. I didn't want to be in that horrible square and see that horrible pole again. As I approached the portal marking the entrance to the eastern city I noticed a soldier eyeing me. I kept my head down, trying not to attract his attention, but as I walked through the portal he grabbed my arm and roughly pulled me aside. "Aren't you one of the women who follows the false prophet?" The soldier demanded. I said nothing, eyeing him angrily. He cocked an eyebrow, clearly unsure. "But you do not appear to be whore..." "Certainly not!" I said, shocked, pulling my arm out of his grasp. "What is your name, soldier?" "Why?" The soldier asked, caught off guard and suddenly on the defensive. "I wish to speak to my father about being detained like this," I said, knowing full well that my father was a long ways away and would not have come to my defense anyway. "What is your name?" "There is no need for that, Miss. My apologies, it was a simple mistake." "Fine," I said, and walked off in a huff before he could recover his wits. Marcus had not denied his Lord or his beliefs under pain of torture or even threat of death. And here I had denied him, Zachar, denied my beliefs, when faced with nothing more than a confused soldier. But Marcus hadn't known the truth, I did. I stopped by the side of an ally and started crying again. How could he have betrayed me? +++ I was born in the province of Syrong. My father was Matthew, a landowner, farmer, and the head of the regional council. My mother was Marina, said to be the most beautiful woman in the province and the most talented weaver. My parents were wealthy, second only to the regional governor, and I was destined from birth to be a senate member and perhaps even more. My birthname was Mataius. There, I've said it. I was born a little boy, I am now a woman. I am Hira. From my youngest memories I knew that something was wrong with me. I did not wish to play with little boys, preferring instead to play with girls. As I grew I did not yearn for the robes of my father, instead I desired the beautiful dresses my mother made. I did not wish to be a farmer, I wanted to be a weaver like my mother. I was always at odds with what others, especially my parents, wanted of me, but I could not seem to change how I felt. I don't remember when it was I figured out exactly what was wrong with me, but I do know I was very young and I do remember attempting to discuss it with my mother. I thought that she might be understanding, at least more understanding than my father, but she was not. She was horrified and told me that these were unclean thoughts. That if I did not deny them I would be godless and would die horribly and burn forever in a pit of fire with the godless heathens. She threatened to talk to the head priest about it, even to see about having me sent to a monastery, but she never did. It was not long after that my grandmother, then an middle-aged and very wise woman, came into my room and spoke to me about it. She was, at least, understanding, if not exactly sympathetic. She talked for a long time and for the first time I realized that I was not the first person ever born feeling this way. That, despite her warnings about the dangers of my feelings, gave me hope for perhaps the first time in my life. My grandmother refused to speak of the matter any more. Despite the little hope she had given me, over the months that followed I became despondent, depressed. I even started having thoughts of death. Even at such a young age I knew that I could not live with what was inside me, who I was never being able to come out and be free. My mother saw this and was greatly saddened. Against my father's wishes, she sent me to stay with my grandmother for the cold season. My grandmother also saw this in me and finally she relented. We spoke about it twice more, it was in our third discussion that she first mentioned the Hiranji, the Hiran, and the Hira. I believe that by then she had finally decided that what I was telling her was real, how I really was and felt, and not just some passing childish passion. Despite phrasing everything as a warning of potential doom, she gave me a way out. A way I could be myself. That knowledge lifted my spirits and I was much improved when I returned to my father's house at the start of the growing season. I hid my secret well after that, biding my time. Unbeknownst to my parents, I was preparing, gathering the things I would need for a long trip. When I was ten and a half years I left home in the dead of night. I took an ass and attached it to a wagon that I'd filled with what provisions I felt I would need for the long trip. I swore never to return. What I was about to do would disgrace my family and make me godless and unclean. I was sorry that it would hurt my parents, that I would never grow into the man my mother and father wanted, but I had no choice. The Hiranji lived in the western mountains of the farthest eastern valley of the known world. It was at least a hundred days away. My grandmother had called them symbiotes, though I wasn't sure what that was. They were a kind of worm that would invade man or beast through the belly and live within you. They changed you, making you no longer what you were before. A person invaded by a Hiranji was bonded to them forever. Hiranji were believed to be offspring of the serpent from the beginning story. They were considered pure evil. A person invaded by them was said to be godless, to have no soul, to be in the service of evil. Animals that had been invaded by Hiranji were slain, their carcasses burned. People who had been invaded, if it was known, were feared and shunned. Treated worse than lepers. It was rare for an animal to be invaded, the Hiranji themselves were rare and the farmers knew to keep their beasts well clear of the mountain on which they bred. It was unheard of for a person to be invaded. You had to capture one and let it invade you and no one was going to let that happen to them. No one, that is, except for people like me. No one knew why, my grandmother said that it was simply their demonic nature, but when the Hiranji invaded a person or an animal it changed that creature's sex. A bull would become a cow, or a woman would become a man. Or a boy would become a woman. If he survived the process, anyway, many did not. I didn't care, this was my only hope. It took me four passings of the small moon, longer than I had expected, to reach the valley and make camp on the side of the mountain. My provisions were getting very low by then and I was afraid the cold months would overtake me before I could complete my task. I was lucky, though, I found a Hiranji with amazing ease and I took this as a sign that it was meant to be. Now all I needed was a place where I would be undisturbed during and after the Hiranji was within me. According to the old stories my grandmother had told me, the transformation took much out of one, leaving a person helpless or even unconscious for a time. Sometimes for a long time. It was unclear from the stories just how long "a long time" could be. I was lucky there as well, traveling up the mountain I had run into a cave. It was large enough for me, my supplies, and the ass, but not large enough for the wagon. I set up camp inside the cave, unhooked the docile ass and lead him into the back of the cave, then started a fire. I sat and had a meal, nearly the last of the food I'd brought with me. If I survived this I would have to hunt for food until I could reach the closest village. If I survived. I stared into the fire for a long time, watching the flames dance, watching the shadows play across the hard cold soul of the mountain. Despite how much I wanted this, how much I needed this, how much I had gone through to get here, I was afraid. Or perhaps I was afraid because of how much I needed this, I didn't know. I was alone, a frightened child far from home on a quest that even I knew was foolhardy. Seeking something that, if I achieved it, would change my life forever in ways that I couldn't imagine. And if I didn't achieve it I would be gone, dead, gone. Even if the Hiranji didn't kill me, if I didn't go through with it, I couldn't live the rest of my life the way I was. A high cliff, a jump into a fast moving river, there were many ways. I had thought about them only too often before. I cried a little then, always a weakness of mine that had forever vexed my parents. Any way I went my immortal soul was forfeit, God would never let a creature like me into paradise. My grandmother was wrong about one thing. I didn't believe the Hiranji were evil any more than a dog is. No, God didn't forsake the Hiran and Hira because of the Hiranji that had infected them. God had forsaken us the day we were born. I wiped my eyes and stood. I'd come this far, what else could I do? I went to the pile of my things and retrieved the small jar I had trapped the Hiranji in. It was wiggling still, but away from its native soils it was weakening quickly. I had to do this now or never. I removed my tunic and lay down on my sleeping pallet. I held up the jar again, looking at the creature that would soon share my body. It was much smaller than I'd expected. From the stories I'd been expecting it to be a huge monster the size of my arm. Instead it was more the size of my index finger and I was not a very large child. Such a small thing, how could it do what I wanted, needed? I took it out of the jar carefully and placed it on my chest. At first I worried that nothing would happen, that it was too weak, as it seemed to just lay there for a moment. But suddenly it was moving far faster than I had thought it could, pausing on my belly just above the birth hole. It rose its head up and opened it's mouth, exposing for the first time five chitinous teeth. It plunged into my belly with ferocious speed, the pain was phenomenal, far more than I'd ever imagined possible, and before I could even fight off the reflex to swipe it off of me, it was gone. It was inside me, and the small hole it had made in my belly was already seeming to seal itself. That hole would eventually heal into the small star shaped scar that forever marked all Hiran and Hira. I lay back, wiping the sweat from my brow, and took a deep breath. The pain had stopped, was it over? That thought was met with another, thankfully brief, stab of pain deep within my belly. But there was no change, I still felt the same and, from what I could see, looked the same. I don't know how long I laid there, again crying. It hadn't worked. All of this, all my effort and hope and... Everything for naught. I had actually sat up, despondent, when it hit me. Waves of pain that made my previous trial seem like nothing. I fell back down, barely able to move. Every part of my body felt like it was being torn apart. I was sure I was dying, this was going to kill me after all. I could not endure the pain and, thankfully, I passed out. +++ I was in a bed when I woke up. In a comfortable bed in a room somewhere. It was dark, nighttime. My mind was muddled, confused, as I got out of the bed. How did I come to be here? I looked down as I stood, someone had dressed me in a simple nightslip. A girl's nightslip! Had it worked? I hurriedly turned up the wicks on the two lamps attached to the wall opposite the bed and went to the mirror as the lamps flared to life. My hair, which had been short in the fashion of boys, was now long and unruly, in bad need of some attention. My face, though, looked basically the same. I had lost a lot of weight, and I hadn't had much to lose to begin with, giving me a rather gaunt look and making it hard for me to judge if my face really had changed much, if at all. But my eyes! They had been blue, and now they were green. I thought I could see other changes, but it was hard to say and I wouldn't know until I regained a few stone. I felt the same and it was impossible to know how long I had been unconscious, leaving the cause of the weight loss and the longer hair in question. My body, what I could discern of it, seemed to be the basically the same. Had it worked? There was only one way to know for sure. Tentatively, afraid of the answer, I reached down and felt my groin through the thin cloth of the nightslip. It had worked! I was changed, it had worked! I was a girl now. I danced a quick dance of joy, that little bit wearing me out and informing me in no uncertain terms of just how weakened a state I was in. I went to the small window and opened it, gazing out. The wind was cold, there was a light coat of snow on the ground. I was on the second floor of some large building made of wood, across the way was a town center. I recognized none of it, and knew not where I was. Both moons were low in the sky. Between that and the snow it was clear that I had been unconscious for quite some time, far longer than I would have guessed. How had I come to be here? Had someone found me and brought me to their town? Did they know? They must, the wound would not be fully healed even now. They knew I was Hira but had saved me? That didn't seem very likely. How, then? How had I come to be here? My wonderings were shattered by the sound of the door opening behind me. I spun around, the shock of recognition washing over me as the person in the doorway, equally shocked, dropped the tray of food they were carrying. "Grandmother," I said, bowing my head respectfully as she kicked aside the utensils and pieces of the shattered bowl then closed the door behind her. My own voice sounded odd in my ears but I was too surprised to take much notice. "You have some learning to do, my grandchild," she said. "A curtsey would be more appropriate, don't you think?" I had to smile at that, despite her stern tone, and I curtsied as best I knew how then had to suppress the urge to do another little dance. "Work on it," my grandmother advised, sitting in the weave chair by the door. "I'm glad to see you up and about, child, for a long time I thought we were going to lose you." "How did I come to be here, grandmother?" I asked. "When I found out you were gone," my grandmother said with a sigh, "I knew what you intended. I told your parents and they were furious with you, especially your mother. Your father wanted to send some men after you to stop you but I forbade him. That made him even angrier, but he obeyed me. That evening I set off with six of your father's men intending to catch up with you and try and talk you out of this madness. But we were waylaid, had to fight off bandits twice on the road, and when we finally did find you it was in that cave. You were very lucky one of the men spotted that cave, you were very near death." "Better death as a girl then life as a boy," I said quietly, going to the bed and sitting down. "So you apparently feel," she said. "I'm sorry, grandmother, I mean no disrespect, but you cannot know how I feel." "I can't? You are not the first person born, child, nor the first to feel the way you do. Nor are you the first person in our family to suffer thusly." What in the name of the thirteen prophets did she mean by that? "Me, child," she said after a moment, "me. I was wife to your grandfather, mother to your mother and your uncle, but I have never been a woman, not inside, and I have always known it. I know only too well how you feel." "That is why you knew all of the stories of the Hiranji," I said, the realization hitting me like a falling tree. "Of course. I first heard stories when I was not much older than you are now. I spent many years searching out knowledge about them. What little is known, anyway. I knew that you would eventually hear some of the same stories I had. I hoped that by telling you about them I could dissuade you from doing something rash and foolish. So much for that hope, how could you have gone and done this?" "How could you have not?" I asked, feeling her anguish. "Have I taught you nothing? Because it's wrong, this is wrong, the Hiranji are evil." "The Hiranji are not evil, grandmother, that is a myth. I have read through every one of the sacred texts, there's not even a mention of the Hiranji, the Hiran, or the Hira. How can we be evil?" "So now you are an expert on the sacred texts? None of that matters, do you know how people think? What they will think of you if they knew?" "Then they shall not know," I said defiantly. "And what kind of life will that be for you?" "I don't know," I admitted. "No, you don't," she said, shaking her head. "Am I now evil, grandmother?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know," she said, then shook her head again. "No, child, I cannot believe you are. You are my own flesh and blood, my grandchild. I cannot believe you are evil." There were tears in her eyes and I went to her, she held me close, rocking me, kissing the top of my head. "I'm sorry, grandmother," I said, truly meaning it. "I know, child, I know. I wish you had not chosen this path, but it's done." She held me for a long while, for the first time in many passings of the moons I did not feel so alone. "Stand," she finally said and I did. "Turn, let me see you." I did. "You've changed so much, hardly the little boy you were." "I've lost a lot of weight," I said. "It's not that," she said, dismissing the notion with a wave of her hand. "You look like your mother did at your age. All gangly legs and arms and pretty eyes, like a newborn foal. You are lucky, you will be a beautiful woman just as your mother is." She sighed. "Or perhaps not so lucky. Beauty carries its own price, especially for one such as you are now." "I will deal with whatever may come," I said. Did she really think I would be beautiful? "I'm sure you shall, child. What will you call yourself now, have you thought of that?" I took a deep breath. "Mary, grandmother, I am Mary." "A good name," she said, nodding approvingly. "And where will you go now, Mary?" "I do not know," I said with a shrug. She smiled. "I didn't imagine you had thought that far ahead. We will discuss it, but first I will go and get you some more food. You need to regain your strength before you go anywhere." Kyrie Eleison: A New Beginning My grandmother had brought six men with her, but I hardly saw them at all. Chasing after me must have cost her a small fortune. Not that she wasn't very wealthy and able to draw on my father's wealth if she needed to, but she never made mention of any of it. She stayed with me for seven days while I regained my strength. We talked much and she helped me to formulate a plan. I couldn't go home, not ever, and I couldn't really stay in the village I was in. There was too much chance someone would find out I was Hira. That only left going somewhere I would not be known. It would not be easy, especially as I was so young and relatively unskilled, but with some effort I could make a new life for myself. She also taught me, taught me things about my new body. Female things that most girls learned from their mothers when the time was right, but which I would have to deal with on my own. Some of it shocked me; I'd had no idea, but I tried to deal with it in as adult a manner as I could. I would have to know about my body and I would have to be an adult, one way or the other, from then on. She also taught me about men and women, sex, and about babies. Useless knowledge, as we both knew that no man would take a Hira as his wife, but it was best that I knew. And she taught me about the clothes and customs of women, most of which I already knew, and about how to care for my now-longer hair and how to make myself look more fetching or more plain as however I might need. She bought me a dress I could wear and on the third day after I had come to I was well enough to leave my room for the first time. My room was over a large tavern. A clean place, as such things go. The proprietor was a large and rather stern man, though nice enough to me. His wife, equally large, was very nice to me. The village we were in was called Jillar, it was half day's ride from where my grandmother and her men had found me. The people seemed nice enough and they all seemed to know my grandmother. They were relatively well off, most of the buildings were newer. And most of the buildings were wooden. Amazing to me, so used was I to the dark brick and adobe buildings of the lowlands. This high in the mountains with the harsh winters and snow, though, adobe would never do. It was all so very different from the lands I knew. Tall trees everywhere and most of the people I saw seemed heavier, as if to shield themselves from the cold. I was quite sure that I was the smallest person in Jillar by far. Too soon, my grandmother had to go. I cried so profusely when she told me her men were packing her things, whatever small amount of emotional self-control I may have once possessed seemed to have been left behind with my old body. I had so many more questions, so much more to learn, but mostly I needed her. In the days since I had awoken I think she had come to accept what I had done, if not quite approve. And in a way it was perhaps a vicarious thing for her. I knew she had to go. The early snows had already been and gone and soon the true cold season would descend upon Jillar. She needed to get back to her lands, and to have any chance of doing so she had to leave soon. I knew all of this, but I did not want to be alone. +++ "I will have to take the ass with me, your father wants it back," my grandmother said. My heart sank; I had been counting on having the ass to haul the wagon. Without it I would have to sell the wagon. "Don't worry, child, I will leave you a horse for your wagon," she said with a smile, clearly reading my thoughts in my expression. "Thank you," I said. I sat on the bed in her room and watched as she dressed in her traveling clothes. It somehow no longer seemed odd to watch another woman, let alone my own grandmother, dress. The mysteries of a woman's body were no longer mysteries and someday my body would look something like hers did. It seemed almost anticlimactic, and yet exciting at the same time. "Your room is paid up through the cold season, I expect you'll be doing what we discussed?" "Yes," I said, nodding. "Good. You will find provisions and supplies in your wagon. I've paid for the wagon and the horse I'll leave you to be stabled through the winter." "Thank you," I said again. How could I ever thank her enough for all that she had done for me? "It's the least I could do, child," she said, putting on her cloak. She stood in front of me and took my hands into hers. "It was the least I could do, Mary. I wish I didn't have to leave you here alone like this. You know why I must?" I nodded. "We've both chosen our paths." I nodded again and she gently pulled me to her, hugging me. "I'm sorry," I said, tears washing my face. "No," she said, tears in her voice, "don't ever be sorry, Mary. Don't ever be sorry." "I love you, grandmother," I said, trying to smile. "And I love you, granddaughter," she said, gently kissing my forehead. "Always remember I love you, Mary." She released me and, taking my hand, led me to the door. "Now I am going to go downstairs and be on my way. You are going to stay up here for me, I could not bear seeing you while I have to ride off." I nodded, again trying to smile and only half succeeding. "Oh," she said, pausing after opening the door, "you will find two chests in the wagon with a few things in them that you might find useful. Old things that you can put to much better use than I ever did. And you will find some money in a sack hidden under your mattress. Be careful with the money, it is all you'll have." I bit my lip, tears filling my eyes again. "Have care on your journey, grandmother. Happiness and good life." "Happiness and good life to you, Mary." She kissed me again on the forehead. "I worry so for you, such a young girl by herself in the world." She shook her head. "Have care, child, and always remember that you are loved." The door closed and she was gone. I sat on what had been her bed and cried, feeling the weight of the mountains upon my slim shoulders. I was alone. +++ As we had planned, I spent the cold months in Jillar. Everyone was pleasant enough, but clearly there were many questions as to why a girl my young age would be left on her own. No one asked, though, and I offered no explanation. For the most part I kept to myself. In a sack beneath the mattress in my room were six gold coins, as much as many families make in two years and more than enough, if I was careful, for me to support myself for quite some time. Hopefully I would not need to. The contents of the two chests in my cart were even more surprising. There were numerous dresses, underthings, jewelry, hair combs, even a small bottle of what must have been expensive perfume and a few other feminine cosmetics. All of it very lovely, most of it quite expensive. What surprised me most was a necklace of Selina, something any respectable unattached young woman would be wearing. It, like most of the things in the chests, must have been my grandmother's when she was young. Things she must have preserved to perhaps pass on to her granddaughter, a granddaughter that up to now she'd never had. Things she must have decided she wished to pass on to me. More than anything else, it told me how much she really did understand. The gesture surprised, thrilled, and saddened me all at the same time. +++ By the time the cold months were coming to an end I had regained some of the weight I'd lost, though my body seemed to refuse to regain it all. By then even I could see how much I'd changed and how much I was still changing. I had also started to overcome some of my sadness. I had achieved something I'd never truly thought possible. My grandmother had helped much and I never would have survived without her. That she had, in the end, understood meant the world to me. It gave me the strength I needed to go on. My whole life was in front of me, what better adventure could there be? The tavern keeper and his wife were greatly saddened as I finally started packing my things and bringing them to my cart. No doubt I was one of the better patrons they'd had in quite some time, a thought that made me smile. Though I had come to genuinely like them both and they had taken good care of me after my grandmother's departure, I was not going to be sad to leave Jillar behind. It was just too different from what I'd known all my life. I got my cart packed to my satisfaction and a stablehand kindly helped me with harnessing the horse. I was glad for that, the horse was quite large and my strength, like my weight, had never fully returned and likely never would. Not that harnessing a horse to a cart wouldn't have been a task to give me pause even at the best of times. When I came down from my room for the last time, wearing my new riding dress and a cloak wrapped tightly around me, the tavern keeper and his wife were waiting. She hugged me, asking for at least the hundredth time if I really had to go. She had been trying to convince me to stay ever since it had become clear that I was going to leave, even promising me a room and a job in the tavern. It was a very kind offer, but I didn't feel I could stay even though my worries about someone in town discovering that I was Hira had abated with the passing moons. The tavern keeper echoed his wife's offer and, when I politely declined, told me again about the dangers of the road. He was right, what I was doing was not the safest thing. My big worry was bandits. If I was set upon I would be completely helpless. But I felt I had no choice, I had to hope for the best. I thanked them profusely for their hospitality and then left. I was lucky. Perhaps it was still too cold for bandits to be about, or perhaps they were about and, spying a young girl, decided that I wasn't worth the bother. If any bandits had been given any idea of how much wealth I was carrying, both the gold coins and the jewelry, dresses, and other items, I probably would have barely made it out of town. I knew I was going to have to be careful about that. As a young girl all on my own I would be an easy target. It took me two days to make it down and out of the mountains, and it was another day before I reached the first decent sized town from Jillar. I stayed the night there and moved on, the town I wanted was another five days away. I was near exhaustion by the time I reached Mulan. Taking care of the horse and spending my nights by the side of the road in restless sleep, when I could sleep, had taken its toll on me. I found a temporary place to stay and rested, boarding the horse and wagon in a nearby stable. Mulan was much as my grandmother had described it, not all that different from where I'd grown up. The people of Mulan were nice enough, but far more free with their questions as to why a young girl was alone than those of Jillar had been. I told them a "story" my grandmother and I had concocted about how my parents had died and I had been sent to live with my grandmother. As she was not well and not able to bear the burden of caring for me, I had run away to make my own way in the world. This, of course, struck people oddly, but it was plausible enough, seemed almost noble of me, and they accepted it and me. Finding work turned out to be even easier than I had expected. As had happened in Jillar, the tavern owner offered me work and board. This time I accepted. The work was nothing special, sweeping and cleaning and some serving during the busy hours, nor was the pay. But it was enough for me. My life fell into a regular, even comfortable, pattern. From early afternoon through late into the night I would work in the tavern, eventually I was doing more cooking and serving than cleaning, and for the most part the rest of my time was mine. I spent most of that time trying to learn the craft of my mother, weaving. I endlessly pestered some of the old women of the town and learned what I could. I lacked my mother's skill, of course, at first I had no idea what I was doing. But I had deft hands and a burning desire, I quickly learned and my skills grew every day. Shortly after I entered my fourteenth year I quit my work at the tavern, I had become apprenticed to the best weaver in the region. It was also in my fourteenth year that other problems started. I was well and truly coming into my full womanhood as any girl my age would. Most of the girls of the town who were my age were already married, more than a few with child. I had suitors ever since my thirteenth year, both boys and men who wanted me. But I ignored them all, keeping to myself as best I could. Talk had started, they thought I didn't hear but I did, that I might be Hollar, a woman who loves other women. Would that it was so, life would have been much simpler if that was all that it was. But no, I was Hira, and while being Hollar was acceptable, if considered odd, being Hira was not. There were several of my suitors that would I could have taken to, and a few I was very attracted to, but they could never have me. For if any man ever had me, he would see the scar eventually and know the truth. That I could never allow. Much as it pained me, I would never be a bride. So I allowed the rumors to continue and I kept to myself, rebuking any potential suitor before he could be a problem. That worked well enough, if painfully, until my mid-sixteenth year. One particular young man named Peter had taken an interest in me and would not take no for an answer. No matter how stern I was with him, he kept coming back. And, unlike some of my previous potential suitors, there was nothing charming nor flattering about his attentions. The son of a provincial senator, Peter was an arrogant braggart. I was not attracted to him in the least and deflecting his attentions gave me some minor pleasure. But his persistence worried me, it worried me a lot. It was the hottest day of the year when it happened. Despite no longer working there, I was still living in a small room in the back of the tavern. The rent was reasonable and I liked the tavern owner, I liked being there. I had just come home from a hard day; I was working very long hours. My skills had grown to be almost equal those of my teacher, in some ways I was the better, and there was great demand for our product throughout the province. I had undressed and wiped myself with a wet rag, trying to cool down. I should have been getting dressed again to go get some dinner, but I was enjoying the slight breeze through the window across my nude body. I admit to being vain and stupid. I loved the changes my body was going through, even the messier aspects, and the idea, no matter that it was unlikely, that someone could walk by and see the upper half of my nude body through the window gave me a thrill. My evil thoughts were quickly rewarded. There was a bang on the door and it opened. I spun around, shocked, my right arm going up to cover my breasts, my left hand going down to cover my groin as best I was able. Peter was standing there, a leer on his face, his intentions in breaking into a woman's room were disgustingly clear. You would think that in his obviously drunken state he would miss something so small, that he would have focused on other, to men more interesting, parts of my anatomy. But no, his eyes focused on my belly, on that damnable scar, as if it was lit up by a bright sunbeam. His jaw dropped open and he fell backwards, passing out either from shock, the booze, or both. His head hit the hard stone of the entrance with a sickening thud. I was in trouble, very, very, very deep trouble. I didn't know what to do. I stood there, frozen for a moment, trying to tell myself that this hadn't happened. That after all of this time I hadn't been caught out so easily, so thoroughly. But I had, there was no denying it. I was in serious trouble. I grabbed a sheet off of my bed and wrapped it around me. Going to him I felt for a pulse and found it. I wasn't sure whether I should be happy or sad that he was still alive, still breathing. Acting on instinct, I pulled him into my room and quickly shut the door, hoping no one else had seen him. I quickly threw on a dress and braided my hair, then started packing everything I had of value into my grandmother's two chests. I knew I would have to leave a lot of things behind, there just wasn't time. I had no idea how long he would be unconscious, as drunk as he'd obviously been it would hopefully be enough time for me to get away. I knew how it would go once he awoke and told his story. Forget that he had broken into a woman's room uninvited and with obvious ill intentions. No, that would not be mentioned. The story would be of the evil Hira shockingly in their midst. Likely it would be said that I was trying to seduce him, never mind that he had been about to attack me. I would be the demoness trying to turn their men to evil and it wouldn't matter that I had lived there peacefully for many years. It wouldn't matter what I said or did and I shuddered to think what the townspeople might do to me. I had to leave, and leave quickly. It took me three trips to get as much as I felt I could carry from my room to the stable and into my cart. My fear lent me strength or I never would have gotten that much. Luck was with me, no one was about at that hour and I was able to get my things to the cart, get the horse hitched up, and leave without running into another soul. I drove my horse hard, not resting that night or the next day. I finally hid deep within a stand of trees and rested. I was safe, at least for now, but my life in Mulan was gone. Destroyed by my vanity and stupidity and by a man who'd thought to take advantage of me. For the first time it hit me. It had all been academic before, a simple exercise in having some care. For the first time it really hit me how precarious my life could be simply because I was something different from most. No matter how much I tried, no matter how much good I did, it could all be taken away in a single moment. I cried late into the night as my horse worriedly watched. +++ Kyrie Eleison: The Meeting I eventually settled in Tockla, a city sixteen day's travel from Mulan. A provincial capitol, Tockla was far enough both from Mulan and from my home province that I felt I would be safe. A large city, larger than any I'd ever seen, I hoped that its great crowds would allow me more anonymity than I'd had in Mulan. I quickly found work as a house girl in a large villa owned by a wealthy merchant. The work was easy enough; the pay was better than I'd ever known and included board in a small cottage next to a garden. Still, it wasn't what I wanted to be doing but I felt that trying to get work as a weaver would be too dangerous. Too much risk of running into a guild member who knew my previous mistress or may have known of me. Too much chance of the whole disaster that had happened in Mulan coming back to haunt me. Things had changed quite a lot for me. I was now far more distrustful of people than I ever had been before. Where before I had kept to myself mostly, but been polite and friendly enough to all, I now felt openly hostile towards anything I perceived as an invasion of my space, my privacy. At times I could be downright nasty about it. Gone was my previous friendliness and with it much meaningful contact with others. And gone with that was much of my happiness. Prudent or not, I liked being around others and having friends. But I couldn't. I couldn't take the risk of letting anyone close to me again for fear that my life would be destroyed again. I had become angry and bitter and I knew it and didn't like seeing it in myself. But I knew not what else to do, how else to be and still remain safe. In my off time I still practiced my craft and in the two years that passed since my coming to Tockla my skills had grown greatly. I was proud of my work, even if my craft was no longer my occupation. My avocation was discovered by the mistress of the villa quite by accident one day. Her name was Mary also and she was the closest thing to a friend that I had then. Very friendly with the staff, especially for a woman of her position, she had seemed to have taken a particular interest in me. She was never intrusive, though, nor overly inquisitive or persistent. Those traits, combined with the ill will it would generate if I was in the least rude to the wife of the owner of the villa, combined to allow her to get closer to me than anyone else, despite my best intentions. One day she was visiting my cottage on some pretext or other and she happened to spy a pile of cloth I had weaved, going through the samples as we talked. I hardly noticed, the work in that pile was hardly my best, but she was surprised by what she saw and wanted to know where I had gotten cloth of such quality. I told her, and then showed her some of my better work. Materials I'd made that I was truly proud of. She was stunned, it felt good to have someone again appreciate my work, and asked me if I could make some materials for her, perhaps sew her some dresses while I was at it. Only then did I realize my mistake. It was okay, though. She didn't want anyone outside of the villa to know where she was getting her material from, mostly because she was afraid that another of the ladies in the city would try and steal away my services. That was more than fine with me, of course, and she commissioned me to make a bolt of a particular kind of cloth for her with promise of much more weaving work if I could produce what she wished and if I was willing. I was more than willing, and quickly I was spending more time weaving and later weaving and sewing than I was working in the house. Less than half a year later I had no more duties in the house and was spending all of my time weaving and producing special dresses and garments for my mistress to be seen in. She rewarded me richly for my work and never asked why it was a weaver of my skills was willing to work so privately. +++ I was on my way to market to purchase thread and pick up a new shuttle for my loom from the metalsmith when I met him. I had stopped by the eastern well pool on my way to market. Even at that early hour it was warm, the day would be an extremely hot one, and I was thirsty. I had drank some from the cool waters and was about to turn away and resume making my way to the market when I heard a voice. A man talking, a man with the sort of voice that commanded you to listen. A voice you could not ignore. I turned and saw him, there were three other men with him but my eyes were drawn to him alone. He was a massive man, perhaps the tallest man I'd ever seen, and well muscled in the way of a man who'd spent many an hour toiling in the fields. Or perhaps he was a warrior? But he wore no armor, only a cotton tunic and simple robes. He was older than I, of that I was sure, but by how much it was impossible for me to guess. His skin was sun darkened, his hair was long more in the fashion of women than of men, but unruly. His beard was equally unruly. But none of that hardly signified, it was his eyes that drew you. Deep blue pools that seemed almost sad. Eyes that were almost too large for his face. Eyes that seemed to see all, seemed to not look at you, but instead into you. I must have looked the fool, standing there staring at this vision of a man with my jaw agape. He seemed not to notice, though, and calmly walked up to me, the three other men, seeming somehow lesser, following him at some distance. "Good morning, Miss," he said, bowing his head in more deference than our relative positions warranted. The men with him did likewise. What an incredible voice, I thought. A deep bass, it seemed like it would carry for miles and yet it was so soft, his speech so quiet, as to be pitched for my ears alone. "I... Uh... Good morning, Sir," I haltingly replied, curtsying clumsily. His smile lit up the sky. What perfect bone-white teeth! I'd never seen such a thing. "Are you from this fair town?" He quietly enquired. It took my mind a second to register what he'd said, so entranced was I by his appearance and that wonderful voice. "No," I finally replied, "I come from far from here in Syrong province. I live here, though." I felt so stupid, but I didn't care. It was a wonder I could answer him at all, I felt like I was going to melt into those beautiful eyes. No man had ever had nearly the effect on me that this one did. He nodded. "I thought as much," he said. "You are Hira, are you not?" My jaw literally dropped at that, his spell was broken by my shock and my quickly rising anger. How had he known? Was he from Mulan? Or maybe someone sent by my father? I didn't know him, knew that if we'd ever met I would have remembered no matter how much time may have passed. So how had he known? I shook my head, more to clear my thoughts than to deny his accusation. "Good day, Sir," I said curtly and quickly turned and started to walk away. "Don't go, Mary." I spun around, shocked past the point where I would have thought I could be shocked no more. At that moment I would have sworn to the Queen herself that I had just heard my grandmother's voice. But that was... Impossible? "What did you say?" I demanded. "Please don't go, Mary," he said and it was his voice and not my grandmother's that I heard. "I'm sorry that I scared you, you have nothing to fear from me." "How did you know my name?" His smile grew brighter, something I wouldn't have thought possible. "I know everything about you, Mary." I walked straight up to him, my still lingering anger overcoming my common sense. "Who are you?" "I am the son of man," he said, his face becoming serious, "I am the savior of man." "You are a prophet?" I asked, almost laughing. "I am the one who fulfills the prophecies, Mary." I stared at him, was this not blasphemy? "Walk with me, Mary. There is an important place for you in God's plan." "I doubt that," I said with a snort. Was this man insane? "Walk with me, Mary, we must speak." "I... I have much to do this morning." "Those things can wait, but God waits for no man... Or woman. Walk with me, Mary." +++ I don't know why I didn't turn him down a third time, but I didn't. Without waiting for any real sign from me of assent, he took my hand in what was an overly familiar gesture that somehow felt right, and led me away from the well pool. He led me to the outskirts of city and then out of the northern gate. The three men who were obviously with him followed, but still at a goodly distance. He said nothing as he led me through a fig grove and to an old oak tree that grew at the far end. He sat against the tree and I sat facing him, the shade of the tree keeping us both sheltered from the hot early morning sun. "You do not believe that God has a place for you in his plan, Mary?" He finally asked, speaking for the first time since he had bid me to walk with him. "No, I do not," I replied simply. "Why do you feel so?" "You know why," I evaded. "Because you are Hira?" My heart sunk at the sound of that word, but there was no longer any anger. I nodded. "Why did you deny what you are?" He asked, his voice reproachful. "What would you have be do, have it branded upon my forehead?" "No, of course not. You are a beautiful woman and that is all that most will know, need to know. But you should not deny what you are." "I shouldn't?" I asked, incredulous. "Never." I shook my head. "You have no idea, do you? I do not know about where you come from, but here no one would accept a Hira." "Where I come from all are accepted, Mary." "Well this is not that place." I said, not really believing him. "Here a Hira must hide her past if she's to have any life at all." "And what kind of life is that, Mary? Has denying yourself made you happy? Or has it made you lonely and lost?" "My life is just fine, thank you," I replied curtly, not even believing it myself. "Is it? Have you forsaken God, Mary?" "God has forsaken me," I said angrily. "He has forsaken all of my kind." "God will never forsake you unless you forsake him, Mary." "You know not whereof you speak. Have you listened? Do you not know what people say of the Hiran and Hira? That we are infested with demons, devil children, soulless, godless, evil. People say we are the forsaken, and they are right." "What people say matters not, Mary, what matters is what God says. You know this, do you not?" "All I know is that a smart Hira denies what she is if she wishes to have any kind of life at all. Whatever God may say does not change how a life can be destroyed if people know that you are different." "You have been hurt, I understand that and I am sorry for it. But not everyone who has known you are Hira has rejected you." "My grandmother," I said. How did he know so much about me? "Yes. Did you wait in Mulan to see if they would understand?" "I couldn't." "You couldn't even give them the chance? Give yourself the chance that some of those good people might have seen what had really happened and would have sided with you?" "I couldn't take the risk," I replied, the words ringing hollow in my own ears. He nodded. "You ran. You've been running since that day in the cave. You can't run forever, Mary." "Yes," I said, rising, "I can." "You're too young to be so hurt, Mary. Let me help you, let me share some of your burden." "I must return to the city," I said, tears in my eyes. "The market will be crowded by now." He nodded. "Return to your labors then. But think upon what I have said. I will be here for three more days, Mary, giving sermons here in this field. Come again and see me, will you?" "Yes," I lied. I wanted to get as far away from this man as I could and never see him again. "Mary?" I jumped, sure that he had seen into me and through my lie and was about to call me on it. "Yes?" "God has not forsaken you. I spoke the truth when I told you that there's an important place in his plan for you." +++ I had to hurry to finish my business in the market and get back to the villa before the hottest part of day descended on the city. I tried desperately to work on my latest projects, but could not. I could not concentrate. I wanted to put that man out of my head, to forget his words and to try and forget the effect he had on me, but I could not. I could not stop thinking about him and wondering. Eventually the mistress of the villa, the other Mary, came to see me as she often did. Finding me in such a state she was concerned and wanted to know what was wrong. I needed someone I could talk to so I told her about the man I had met by the well pool, carefully avoiding mention of his damning recognition of what I was. Mary was intrigued by my story. No, it was more than that, she was excited in a way that I had never seen her. Unlike myself, I knew her to be a deeply religious woman and I would have thought that she would reject this man who said he would fulfill prophecies out of hand. But she did not, instead she said that he sounded like a holy man. She said that my having heard my grandmother's voice and his knowing my name and where I had come from were proof. Even though there were numerous possible explanations for both, I had to wonder myself. When I told her of his invitation to come and hear him speak that evening, she immediately decided that we both must go. I declined, which upset her more than a little. She cajoled me at some length, even becoming a little cross with me for the first time that I could remember, but I did not want to have to see this man again. His effect on me was too strong. Finally Mary gave up on trying to convince me, and returned to the villa still somewhat upset. By the time late afternoon had come I had still accomplished nothing. I simply could not concentrate, I could not get him out of my mind. Mary came to me dressed in clothes more befitting a woman of my station than of hers. She sometimes dressed thusly when she intended to go into the market or a few other parts of the city that were less safe for the wife of a rich man than for a servant. She asked me again to come with her and while I wanted to decline again, I could not. I had managed to do nothing save think of his words since that morning, I had to find some way to get him out of my mind. Perhaps going to hear him sermonize would help. Mary was joyful as we made our way through the city to the northern gate. She seemed to feel that whatever connection I had to this man she felt might be holy, it must be important. It seemed like it had almost changed the complexion of our relationship for that time. As though I was now the important one and she was following in my wake instead of the other way around. He was still beneath the oak tree where he had spoken to me that morning, sitting and talking to the three men I'd seen with him earlier. Various peoples were seated in expanding semicircles going out from were he was. Some simply sitting on the grass, others sitting on woven reed pallets, the richest among them seated on expensive blankets. It was not a huge crowd, but it was a lot of people. I was slightly amused to note that there were more women than men in the crowd, apparently I was not the only one effected so by this man. Certainly that was true by Mary's reaction. When she saw him she took an involuntary breath and then sighed loudly. No description of mine could have prepared her for his great beauty or the preternatural sense of calm strength he exuded. Mary wanted to find a place near the front of the crowd but I insisted on sitting farther back. That she didn't protest nor demand to have her way confirmed my previous sense, somehow she felt it was important to do things my way. She didn't even complain or even mention the indignity of sitting in the grass and dirt, though of course it would be up to one of the servant girls to remove whatever stains resulted. We had just found a spot in which to sit when a hush came over the crowd. I looked up, and he was standing now. He was standing quietly, waiting for people to settle, and I could have sworn that he was looking directly at me. That was ridiculous, though, why would he be looking at me alone out of all of the people before him? How would he even know that I was there? It wasn't just me, though, I looked to the side and Mary was looking at me, an odd expression on her face. Several other people around us had also turned to see what had gained this man's attention. My cheeks grew red, I was very uncomfortable. Not so much because of his distant attention, but instead because of the attention that had drawn to me from the crowd. "For too long," he started, his magnificent voice carrying easily over the crowd, "our people have been divided. For too long we have argued minor points of insignificant law, endlessly debated different interpretations of scripture. For too long we have fought amongst ourselves, made enemies when we should be making friends, we have gone to war over perceived slights." Many in the crowd were nodding; these were common sentiments shared by many. "We have lost our way," he said. "Instead of following the ways of the God of our fathers and mothers we follow priests and priestesses more interested in building beautiful churches and shrines to their own glory than in bringing the people to the glory of God. For too long we have followed leaders who were more interested in conquest and power than in serving God. For too long we have followed only our own individual needs and wants, ignoring the needs of others and the calls of our God. We hav