Part 8 Kassir no more
1.The morning dawned dark and cloudy. Perhaps the Rain Goddesses were saying farewell to their former servant. Perhaps they were expressing their approval of how he was being banished. Kassir could not tell. From that day on, the Rain Goddesses were no longer his concern.
No one was there to see him off as he left the temple, not even Adar. It was as if he no longer existed. With their judgement pronounced, he was dead to the Sun Priests. And they had no reason to bother themselves with a dead man.
At the entrance, Kassir spotted a familiar figure. He had not seen her for years, ever since they had parted at her village. But there was no mistaking the flaming red hair and firm stance. It was Rhea. She caught sight of him and by the hard glint in her eyes Kassir could tell that she knew.
“Greetings, Rhea,” Kassir began, cautiously. “It has been a long time.”
In truth, he did not much expect her to acknowledge him. After all, he was no longer of the people of the desert. During his grace period, while he made his way towards the World Without, he was no more than a ghost, a homeless spirit to be shunned and driven away.
To his surprise, Rhea nodded curtly. Her eyes did not soften, though.
“I always knew,” she said. “I always suspected you were not like the others. But never once did I think you would do this. Never once did I think you would stray so far from the right path. I never imagined you were capable of this… this sacrilege.”
Kassir did not take her accusations personally. He knew Rhea well enough. He was very much aware of what lay beyond her blind worship of the Desert Gods. It was not that her obedience to the Gods was a front. It was genuine, all right. At the same time, though, it was a defence, the only road offered to her and so she had no choice but to follow it, no matter what she thought of it.
“Come with me,” he found himself saying. “Come with me to the World Without, Rhea.”
He did not know what prompted him to make such a daring request. He had never felt for Rhea what he felt for Lusa. But she was a friend to him. In many ways, they belonged to each other. The roads of the desert had created ties not even his banishment could break.
Judging from Rhea’s irate look, she was about to say something scathing. She mastered herself, though. Her stern features softened slightly, allowing a hint of regret to filter through. She shook her head.
“I am sorry, Kassir. But I still belong to the Gods. It is my mission, to do their work.”
“Is it? You cannot agree with what the priests do – with how they hold our people in check, with their punishments.”
Rhea sighed heavily, a brief look of irritation marring her features.
“That is neither here nor there, Kassir. This is what you were never able to understand. This is what made you a poor servant of the Gods, despite your remarkable gifts. It does not matter whether what the Priests demand is right or wrong. They are the mouthpiece of the Desert Gods. They must be obeyed, no matter what they want. What they ask for, you must give to them. It is the first lesson I was taught in the Temple of the Rain Goddesses. I am not likely to forget.”
Kassir looked at Rhea sharply. For the first time, he wondered what had happened to her when she had arrived at the Temple of the Rain Goddesses. Her obviously outlandish looks would have singled her out. Had the priestesses used violence against her? Had they tried to break her? The Rhea Kassir knew was hard as steel. She did not seem likely to break easily. But Kassir did not know anything about the Rhea of the past. He had no idea how the young woman before him had become such an ardent servant of the Desert Gods.
“You will not come with me, then?”
Rhea shook her head firmly.
“I will always be the servant of the Sun Gods and Rain Goddesses,” she declared, and it sounded like she was repeating a well-learned lesson. “Such is my lot. As for you, Kassir… I used to think you were destined for greatness. Perhaps you still are. But it will not be as the servant of the Gods – therefore I cannot approve.”
She moved past him, to enter the temple. She stopped after a few steps but did not turn to look back.
“I hope I will not see you again after six months,” she said.
Then she was gone, and that was all their parting amounted to. There were no words of farewell and good luck, because Rhea would never be able to give something like that to one who had betrayed the Gods. She could only give him a warning, and Kassir knew that was all he could hope from her. Just as he knew that, if she did meet him again in the desert after his six months’ grace period, she would not hesitate to kill him.
2.The desert had never before looked vaster and lonelier to Kassir. Nor had it looked more beautiful. It was a dangerous place of poverty and hardships. Living there was a risk. There was not much one could hope for in life, save the little wealth one could gather. But it was home to Kassir. And now that he was about to leave, that was all that mattered.
During his long journey northwards, he did not hesitate to stop at settlements whenever they were in his path. He had no doubt that the spies of the Sun Priests were watching his every move, but he had not been forbidden from entering villages. He still had six months to stay in the desert, and he could do with them as he pleased. He wanted to look upon his people one last time before he left the desert for good. Before he was forbidden from thinking of them. As he walked, he realised his feet were taking him to a place he had sworn never to enter again for as long as he lived. But he could not depart the desert without seeing it one last time.
One evening, he found himself in the well-known hills of his childhood, gazing down at Red-stones village. It appeared unchanged to him, as if time stood still there. It was smaller than many of the other settlements he had travelled to. But it was beautiful and peaceful, a haven in a fiery world. A haven he had no right to enter. For the first time since his exile, he felt tears in his eyes. He sat down on a boulder and cried as evening deepened around him.
From his unseen place on the hill, he watched as the village slowly prepared for the night. The scene could have been an episode from his past. Herders brought their beasts to the pens. Exasperated mothers called their children to bed. Youngsters lingered here and there, plotting some daring nocturnal adventure, if only they could escape the vigilance of their parents.
He waited until the village was quiet. Only a few lights glinted here and there. They too would wink out soon. Sighing, he descended the hill, prepared to enter Red-stones village for the first time in four years.
He was now at the door. Taking a deep breath, he knocked. He heard the voices inside pause, then the sound of heavy footsteps heading for the door. It was opened and he found himself looking into Rashed’s startled face.
For one brief instance of hope, Kassir fancied he could still escape the confrontation. If his parents did not recognise him, he would leave it at that. He would claim to be a traveller and ask for shelter for the night. In the morning, he would leave and that would be that. But, of course, it was not possible. Kassir might have changed a lot during the past four years, but not enough for his own father to fail to know him. Rashed’s expression changed from bemusement to disbelief.
“Kassir,” he breathed. “I mean… my lord Light-tender.”
But Kassir shook his head quickly. That title was not his anymore.
“Don’t trouble yourself with ranks,” he said. “Call me by name, father, while it is still permitted. I am only passing through. May I claim shelter?”
Wordlessly, Rashed stepped aside. Kassir walked in, his eyes darting across his surroundings. Never before had the hut of his childhood looked so small.
Malna was sitting at her usual place, next to the spinner’s wheel, even though it was rather late for her to be working. Unlike Rashed, who looked unchanged, the years since Kassir had seen her last had not been kind to her. Her golden hair had greyed. Her face was lined with worry. She had lost the light that used to twinkle in her eyes. She now watched Kassir with polite interest, as if he were only a stranger. For once, Kassir wished he could see what was in her mind. For once, he wished he could be certain she was glad to see him.
“Welcome, Kassir,” Malna said at last, standing up. “Come sit by the fire. I will bring you some warm milk. You must be weary from your long journey.”
She left the room. Her eagerness would have been the same, had it been directed at someone she had never seen before. Kassir sat down at the table, realising with a pang that this was his old chair. His family had kept it.
“Where are Bidar and Alla?” he asked in an effort to make conversation. “I hoped to see them before I left.”
“Bidar has taken a job with a caravan,” Rashed answered. “He will not be back for another three months. As for Alla, she no longer lives with us.”
Kassir looked up, a strange sensation he could not quite place taking hold of him.
“Where is she, then?” he asked.
“At home with her husband,” Malna said, from the door. “With Linir.”
She placed a mug of milk in front of Kassir, together with a plate of bread and cheese. He did not even glance at them. He gaped at his parents, unable to fully comprehend. Dimly he knew he should not be surprised. Nor should he be angry. Despite Linir’s problems with Kassir, he was a good person. He would be kind to Alla. He would do right by her.
But his moroseness was not entirely due to Linir marrying his sister.
He realised suddenly that he had been wrong. The village was not unchanged. It had moved on, just as the rest of the world. He knew he should have expected it. His home could not have remained unaltered, just because he was not there. Still, he had never thought he would witness these changes. Nor had he anticipated the terrifying knowledge that life in the desert would go on, even though he was leaving. In that moment, in his old home, he realised just how alone he was going to be from then on.
He looked up at his parents and noticed they were both observing him silently. It did not take him long to see the uneasiness in their eyes. There was always uneasiness when people knew they were dealing with a servant of the Gods. Well, he thought wryly, he might as well put that uneasiness to rest. The feeling of shame that would follow his disclosure would not be any more pleasant, but at least Malna and Rashed would cease being afraid of him.
“There is no reason for you to look at me like this,” he said bluntly. “I am no longer a servant of the Desert Gods. I told the Priests I would play their games no longer. I have been sent into exile.”
3.As Kassir spoke the words, he was surprised the earth did not tremble. He knew the world had just cracked for Rashed and Malna. At first, he did not look up, not wanting to see the expression on his parents’ faces – the anguish, the disbelief, the disappointment. He did not think he deserved them, not for leaving the service of the Gods.
“It was the right thing to do,” he declared. “I was being used as an instrument of punishment and death, and I never wanted that. I have unknowingly betrayed so many of my people – I did not want this to go on.”
Finally, he did look up. His eyes sought Malna, trying not to flinch at her stony expression. She had to understand. She of all people had to know.
“You taught me always to work for the benefit of the people of the desert,” he said. “You never taught me betrayal.”
Malna looked away.
“I also taught you respect for the Sun Gods and Rain Goddesses,” she said. “Or, at least, I thought I had. But look at you now.”
Rashed remained stubbornly silent, watching the scene as if it did not affect him. But, as he glanced at his father, Kassir thought he caught a glimpse of guilt on his face.
“You know,” Malna went on softly, her tone faintly reflective, “When you were born, people said you were marked – that you would be either a blessing or a curse. But no one could tell which. And I see now that not even the priests, however much they thought they knew about you, had been able to foretell the truth. It is bad luck when a child is born on the second rainy night of the year – one way or another, it is bad luck.”
Kassir did not defend himself from Malna’s words.
“Perhaps you are right,” he accepted. “And perhaps word will spread of what happened to me and why. Maybe it will make other people think. Maybe in the future the people of the desert will no longer live in fear of the two temples and no longer obey their unreasonable requests. They will be able to move freely and speak their minds without fear of oppression. And, if that happens, I hope you remember who started it.”
“Or maybe your actions will make the priests try their hardest to prevent this from happening again,” Malna said soberly. “And then the people of the desert will have even less freedom. You cannot rebel against the Gods, Kassir. I know that better than anyone.”
“What will you do now?” Rashed asked, finally approaching the table. “Why did you come here, anyway?”
Kassir lowered his eyes.
“I wanted to see Red-stones one last time,” he confessed in a small voice. “That is all. I will be gone come morning. I only wish to sleep here while the night lasts… if the master of the house will let me.”
The position of a future exile was complicated. Even though he was during the grace period in which he could safely leave the desert, those who sheltered him were sometimes persecuted. But no one needed to know Kassir was there.
“Of course you will stay here,” Rashed said. “My house will be your house for the night. You are welcome to it.”
***
The next day, Rashed woke Kassir before the sun was up.
“It is time to leave. I will see you to the next village.”
It was their custom, but it was not necessary this time. Kassir knew where the next village lay, and he had no intention of stopping there, anyway. But Rashed probably wanted to make up for their cold welcome. And, if Kassir was honest with himself, he would be glad to have company, even if only for a little while.
Malna was not in the house. She had, however, set the table. Kassir had the place of honour. He looked at the food – warm milk and cheese and even a little meat. These were things put aside for important visitors – or for family members going on great journeys. Kassir could not tell which one of those Malna considered him to be. As he sat down at table, he noticed Rashed staring at him, a rueful expression on his face. It was not the first time he saw that look in his father’s eyes.
“I think you have something to tell me. At least, you look as if you had something to tell me. You have been looking like that all my life. Maybe you should say it now – it’s your last chance, after all.”
“I will tell you everything,” Rashed said heavily. “Only not here. We have plenty of time to talk on the road.”
They left soon after eating. The village was still quiet. No one was outside. Kassir could hear many villagers waking up in their houses. He felt a pang of loneliness. They would not know he had been there. He would not have a chance to say farewell to anyone else – not to his siblings or to Linir and Lusa. Soon, they would be worse than ghosts to him. As before, he tried not to look back, although Rashed did.
“I think the time has come for me to talk,” Rashed began abruptly. “I never meant to tell you – I never meant to tell anyone. But I hold the reason why you are now in this position. So, the truth must come out. I owe it to you.”
Kassir said nothing. He waited for Rashed to continue. For a while, they walked in silence while Rashed was gathering his thoughts. Kassir noticed his father was hesitant, even a little frightened. In the end, Rashed made up his mind and shook his head, full of remorse.
“I do not really know where to start,” he confessed. “Perhaps I should tell you how I was many years ago, before you were born, before I took your mother as my wife. It would hardly justify what happened, but it could explain things. Maybe one day it would help you understand what I have done.
“I am a herder, Kassir, just as my father was before me. You know herders are not exactly wealthy. Oh, we have enough to get by and to sustain our families, but we cannot afford too many luxuries. And that never bothered me. Except when I became a young lad, and I wanted to make the girl I had suddenly fallen in love with my wife. Your mother was a fair one, Kassir. At that age, I was ready to swear she was the flower of the desert. And I was not the only one. All the unmarried men from Red-stones – and from neighbouring villages, too – had their eyes on her. They soon began lavishing her parents with outlandish gifts. I could not compete. So I had to make my own weapons, somehow.”
Kassir nearly stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at Rashed anxiously, suddenly afraid of what his father had to say.
“What did you do?” he asked, his voice trembling.
“I went to the Temple of the Rain Goddesses.”
And Kassir listened in growing horror, as Rashed spoke of his pact with Cunna, how he had agreed to give his firstborn to the Rain Goddesses, in exchange for Malna. How he had done so without hesitation.
“I did not go to the temple with the intention of making such a trade,” Rashed explained. “Nor did I understand it fully at the time. At that age, I thought more about the love of a comely lass than the well-being of my future child. But I regretted my rash decision as soon as you were born. As soon as I realised I had doomed you. And I have been regretting it every day, ever since.”
Rashed paused. Kassir wondered if his father was waiting for him to say something – that he understood, that he could forgive. But he did not think he could.
“Your mother never knew,” Rashed went on, after a while. “I do not think she ever will. I am afraid that, if she found out, I would lose her too. Although – maybe I lost her the moment I made the pact. You belonging to the Desert Gods and not to her always stood between us.”
Kassir glanced at his father. Rashed was troubled, but he also looked relieved. He had been keeping this to himself for a long time. It was a blessing to tell it to someone – especially to the person most affected by his decision. As for Kassir, he did not know what to feel. There was resentment. Perhaps he would not have been a Light-tender at all, had Rashed trusted Malna’s judgement instead of the influence of the Rain Goddesses. Perhaps he would have been living in Red-stones, following in Rashed’s footsteps, being free to take Lusa for a wife and start a family of his own. Most certainly, he would not have been forced into exile, as he was now.
Or maybe it would not have mattered. Maybe the Desert Gods had their eyes on Kassir before Rashed’s decision. Maybe Rashed’s actions were their doing. At any rate, whatever plans the Sun Gods and Rain Goddesses might have had, they ended when Kassir refused to work with the Priests. And that brought a certain grim satisfaction to the Light-tender.
“I am sorry for not doing right by you, my son,” Rashed spoke suddenly, bringing Kassir back from his thoughts. “I wish I could say I would not do it again, given the chance. But I do not know. And I will never be given this chance anyway, so I see no point in such words. I only hope that one day you will find it in your heart to forgive me.”
Kassir shook his head curtly.
“There is nothing to forgive. You were used by the Gods and Goddesses as much as I was. It is the lot of the people of the desert. In many ways, I am luckier than you. I am escaping their net.”
Rashed’s eyes were full of doubt.
“In what way are you better off?” he wanted to know. “You are going in a world of demons and sinners. The Desert Gods have no power there.”
“Exactly,” Kassir nodded. “I am beyond the influence of the priests. I do not know how my skills could be used there, but one thing is certain. I will not allow myself to be a spy and a bringer of doom. I will not allow myself to become what I was to the Sun Priests. In this way I am indeed better off than you, father. And maybe one day you too will realise that true Gods must serve their people. When it becomes the other way around, as it did here – it is not so good.”
A look of horror crossed Rashed’s face.
“We cannot even think such things,” he told Kassir harshly. “If we do, the Sun Gods and Rain Goddesses may forsake us. And where would we be then?”
Kassir shrugged.
“Now you are living in fear,” he pointed out. “So maybe it would not be as tragic as you think. Perhaps there would be fewer people imprisoned and tortured – or sent into exile.”
He quickened his pace. Rashed had to make a visible effort to keep up.
“I think I want to go the rest of the way alone,” Kassir told him abruptly. “I have no intention of stopping at the next village anyway.”
Rashed halted. He looked stricken, as if Kassir had dealt him a physical blow.
“So this is how we part,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I know your anger against me is well-deserved and I know that however much I could beg for forgiveness, I have no right to it.”
Kassir stopped too and glanced back at Rashed. He immediately regretted his brisk retort.
“I am not angry with you, father,” he said quickly. “And I could never hate you for doing what you thought was right at the time. I wish you all the luck in the world. I know you cannot give me your blessing, not where I am going – but I think I would feel less lost if you wished me luck as well.”
All of Kassir’s resolution not to show any fear or anxiety in front of his father crumbled. He was brought back to the day that now seemed a lifetime ago, when he had left with the tribute caravan. He remembered Rashed’s rather cold farewell. He did not think he could live through that again. Rashed could not send him away with a blessing. No one blessed the exiles unless they wanted to draw the wrath of the Gods upon them and their families. But Kassir was so desperate for some good will that he was ready to beg for it.
Rashed looked slightly taken aback by his son’s pleading tone. He took a few steps forward, until he was level with Kassir. He put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder.
“I wish you all the luck in the world, too, my son,” he said, his voice tight. “I would pray to the Sun Gods and the Rain Goddesses to keep you safe, at least until you cross the borders of the desert. But it might anger them, and I think you would not appreciate it, anyway. You’ve always fought hard to prove you belonged only to yourself alone. So I ask you to keep yourself safe and alive for many years to come.”
Kassir clutched his father’s hand. They stood a while like this, before Rashed let go. With a curt nod, Kassir turned away. He walked with resolute steps. He felt tears in his eyes again. But, unlike the previous evening on the outskirts of Red-stones village, he did not allow himself to cry.
Copyright Simina Lungu 2022
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