Sanctity
Alenxa came awake in an instant without knowing why. She felt her heart race and her breathing quicken, and fear seized her mind before it could begin to figure out a reason. For certain, something must have awakened her, but she had no clues yet as to what. She turned to look over the edge of the bed at the sleeping Dialasin, deduced that it could not possibly have been him, and barely had time to wonder what the trouble could be before she heard it: a knock at the door.
Adrenalin lanced through her, numbing all thoughts but those of Dialasin. There was no other reason for anyone to be knocking on her door in the middle of the night. Dialasin had to be warned; one of them at least could get away. She shook him by the shoulder, rousing him just in time to hear another, more insistent knock.
Dialasin's eyes met hers. "They have come," he said flatly.
Alenxa nodded, not wanting to speak more than she had to. "You must leave," she said, trying not to choke. "And I must answer." She turned to go, but he held her hand.
"I will not leave you," said Dialasin. "I have done nothing."
"You--" Alenxa began, but broke off at an outright pounding on her door. Stifling a sob, she jerked her hand free and spun off the bed. She paused only to snatch her house robe from its post, putting it on as she flew toward the door. She stopped for one more breath before the door, willing herself to be calm and shrugging into the other sleeve of the robe, then gathered wits and robe about herself and opened the door.
The first thing she saw was the fire. She gasped, and stepped back without thinking. The split second gave her time to see that there was not nearly as much fire as she had feared, and to take in the rest of the tableau in the hallway. Seven brown-robed men, hooded, carrying oil lamps swinging at the ends of poles, stood in a semicircle around the doorway. One man stood in the center of the arch, in similar clothing; and a ninth man, dressed in an orange Temple robe, stood nearly on Alenxa's toes. She swallowed, willing her voice to be normal, and addressed the man before her. "What is your errand?"
The orange-robed man bowed, insofar as it was possible to bow without hitting Alenxa. "It is that we may retrieve our brother Dialasin. Only this, ara."
Alenxa nearly told the man to come take him into custody, just to be over with the torture. Dialasin had told her what "retrieve" meant, and how she must respond. "I will not hamper you, then," she said, stepping back.
After another bow, the Temple man stepped into the room, followed by the brown-robed man without a lamp. The other men stayed in the hall. Alenxa, not knowing whether to close the door, left it open and hurried to get to the back room before the others.
Dialasin was standing in the center of the room, tying his belt around his orange robe and settling a copper ring onto his last right finger. At the approach of the three, he looked up. "You are here for me?" he asked.
Alenxa held back a wail as the Xadan gave a single nod.
Dialasin bowed his head for a few seconds, raising it sharply to look straight into the Temple man's eyes. "Then I shall go."
"So shall it be," replied the orange-robed stranger, and started toward Dialasin.
Alenxa felt strong hands grip her arms. She screamed and tried to pull away, but they held her fast. She saw Dialasin's look of horror, saw him try to push past the Xadan to get to the brown-robed man she knew must be holding her. A moment later, both of them were being propelled, arms twisted behind their backs, toward the door. Unable to struggle without pain, Alenxa turned to verbal protest.
"What do you want with me?" she demanded, as loudly as she dared. "Your business is with your brother. I have no part in this!"
"You will accompany us to the Yard," said the man holding her arms. "This is your part."
"Then let me dress," said Alenxa, hoping wildly that they would allow it but not knowing why.
"You are clothed," the man pronounced. They had almost reached the outer door.
Alenxa judged it a good time for a righteous fit. "You would make me go in private dress to a public place? And to a place of worship without symbols of sanctity? May siXadas witness this transgression, that he--"
"Wait," said the orange-robed man, and Alenxa realized that the procession had stopped.
"But it is not--" her captor began.
"Take her to dress," the other man ordered.
The man holding Alenxa could not bow, but he spun her around sharply, and painfully enough to elicit a shriek. She could almost feel his disgust as he shoved her toward the bedroom. Once there, he gave her an even harder shove, so that she stumbled forward in a rush and nearly fell onto the bed. She looked back to see him blocking the door.
"Dress, if you must," he instructed her, folding his arms and making it clear that he thought her clothing utterly unimportant.
Alenxa turned toward her clothesracks, wondering if she could make the drop out the second story window uninjured. "You will do me the honor of looking away?"
"I cannot let you escape," said the man. "You will dress."
Hands shaking, Alenxa shed her robe, hung it on its post, and wriggled into a clean shift. Her eyes darted to the man guarding the door, but he was looking around the room. She chose her dark red under-robe, more because it already had a belt on it, with a knife and a purse attached, than for its cut or color. Then, as quickly as she could, she threw a black outer robe over it and added a dark gray cord tie. She reached into the sanctity box and extracted the jumble of her rings, sorting them out and jamming them on her fingers as fast as she could without ruining either rings or fingers. The brown-robed guard was watching her again, saw when she was finished, and came toward her.
"You may trust that I will not run," said Alenxa, and meant it. She did not know what was happening, but she knew that any resistance would either have no effect or make it worse.
The man looked at her for a while, then sighed. "I suppose you look sensible enough not to try to escape," he conceded. "But I must guide you anyhow. There are strict rules." He moved behind her and took her wrists, and she knew not to object.
They reached the door, where Alenxa saw that the Temple man and Dialasin seemed to have come to an agreement something like her own with her captor; the stranger held Dialasin only by the wrists, but walked in front of him instead of behind. The Xadan looked at the party, and at the half-circle of men outside the door--they appeared not to have moved in all the time anyone had been inside--and walked out. The torchmen shuffled aside to let him through, and stayed that way as Alenxa and her guard went through as well. Alenxa was suddenly, annoyingly worried about whether one of them would close the door.
When the group reached the bottom-floor hall, there was a pause as the torchmen caught up and arranged themselves around the other four. One took the lead, in front of Dialasin's "escort," and the other six split up, three walking on the right of the procession and three on the left. Alenxa realized that she had forgotten her sandals, but did not dare to ask to return.
They left the apartments, leaving some curious neighbors standing at the entrance, and wound through the streets to the square. The fountains were still, the few perpetually standing awnings empty. Alenxa shivered to see this place of life so silent. Then she saw the glow to the southeast, barely visible through the buildings. It was unmistakably the Temple Yard.
The glow was not a bonfire, Alenxa saw when they got close enough. Instead, a ring of orange-robed Xadans with pole lamps stood in a three-quarter circle, facing a raised wooden platform. Their backs were turned on the procession, but the two precisely in the middle moved aside as soon as the lead torchman drew near. The rest of the group followed him into the circle, but stopped in its center; the torchman continued up a ramp onto the center of the platform and placed his pole lamp in a wooden holder on its far side. He started to return, while the other six formed a more spacious version of their semicircle behind Alenxa, Dialasin, and their guards. Alenxa glanced to her left, where Dialasin stood, and noticed that he was now being held as she was, from behind, by the wrists.
The lead torchman returned and took the place of Dialasin's guard, who climbed the ramp and took the pole lamp from its holder. As if this had been a cue, a line of Xadans came up a ramp on the left side of the platform, and a line of Xianarans ascended from the right. Alenxa was surprised to see Xianarans at such a Xadas-oriented event, but what shocked her was what the torchlight revealed in the arms of the lead woman: a large, bulbous, flawed glass bottle.
She watched, stunned, as the Xianaran placed the bottle on the platform at the head of the middle ramp, as the lead Xadan produced an outsize lamp-oil flask and poured its contents into the bottle. The second Xianaran knelt and wedged a wick holder into the neck of the bottle as the first two servants retreated to the back corners of the platform, and then took her place beside her sister Xianaran. When four orange robes on the left balanced four red ones on the right, the torchman carefully lowered his pole lamp till the flame touched the wick rising from the bottle. Once it caught, he stood the pole lamp back in its stand and stood by it, as another Xianaran came up the right ramp to sit behind the bottle lamp. Alenxa froze as she saw that the woman was the one who had first bought the bottle.
Onto the platform came two more servants, one Xadan and one Xianaran. "So shall it be," intoned the Xadan, who Alenxa deduced must be the High Servant.
"So shall it be," echoed the Xianaran, whom she knew to be the High Servant.
"Together we light the flame," chorused all the servants on the platform.
After a moment of silence, the Xadan High Servant spoke. "The Xadan brother Dialasin stands detained. He is charged with breaking the most simple rule of the service of siXadas. He is charged with carnal knowledge of the woman he most loves."
"Alenxa Devaxi," said the Xianaran High Servant. "The first answer shall be yours. Speak the truth, that siXianis may be pleased. You love the man Dialasin?"
Alenxa swallowed, trying to ease her dry mouth. "As I must; he is my friend."
The Xianaran High Servant frowned; it seemed as though she had expected a different answer. "So shall it be," she said. "The trial will begin at sunrise. SiXianis angara."
"SiXianis angara," repeated all the Xianarans and Alenxa.
"So shall it be," said the Xadan High Servant. "You will retire to quarters. This night ends. SiXadas angara."
"SiXadas angara," chorused all the Xadans, their voices surrounding the captives in waves of sound.
Then the guard behind Alenxa was pushing her forward, toward the left corner of the platform. She saw the Xianaran at the lamp extinguish it and descend by the right ramp, and barely saw the other four follow her before a new set of hands replaced the guard's on her wrists. Before she could ask, a voice spoke, close to her ear. "I am a brother. I am to take you to quarters."
"In which temple?" asked Alenxa, fearing that she already knew the answer.
The voice was almost apologetic. "Only the temple of siXadas has quarters for the unvowed. I fear they may be less than what you would wish."
It was an understatement. The room--or cell, Alenxa decided--was barely big enough to pace in. A cot stood in one corner, and a sanctity box was bolted to the back of the door, and that was all. She remembered the trials that had taken place earlier in the year, and thought of something. "The other women stayed here?" she asked, removing her rings and placing them in the box. For all its Temple-conferred holiness, this place was far from sanctified.
Her escort nodded. "Here, and another like it. With luck you will have less time to wait." He began a lecture about meals, privy visits, and belongings, but Alenxa did not hear him. He took the under-robe belt with her knife, as she had expected, bowed apologetically, and left. And Alenxa collapsed on the cot in dreamless sleep.
When the clicking of the lock came, she automatically catapulted herself upright, willing her pulse to slow to a normal rate. An unfamiliar Xadan opened the cell door, looking surprised to find her on her feet after so few hours of sleep. "You have rested?" he asked, his voice revealing him to be the same brother that had escorted her to the room the night before.
Alenxa was beginning to feel a bit lightheaded from standing up too quickly, but she ignored the tunnel vision and nodded. "The proceedings will begin soon?"
The Xadan bowed. "Two hours from now. You must eat and prepare. The first day is for answers and presentation, and you may need to present. You will come with me." He turned, and Alenxa had barely enough time to retrieve her rings from the sanctity box before following.
It became clear as they walked just how differently the temple of Xadas was laid out in comparison with that of Xianis. The halls were low and close, catacomb-like, with dark wooden doors embedded almost randomly in the otherwise uniform grayish plaster. There were torches and globes everywhere, but the place itself seemed to swallow the light. There were no windows, Alenxa realized suddenly. It was a panic-inducing thought to someone who had lived nearly her whole life with as few walls around her as possible. It was not until they reached a staircase that it dawned on her: there were no windows, and could be none, if they were underground. As if to confirm her guess, the first thing she saw at the top of the stairs was a large window, letting in light and air and giving a view of ground very close to the windowsill. She had no time to feel relief; the Xadan turned down a corridor, and went through an open door, and the window was gone.
In its place was a small, narrow room, furnished mainly with small tables against the longer walls. There was a pathway between them, down the center of the room, leading from the doorway where she stood to a doorway at the other end. Alenxa could see food on the tables, but the walls closed in again and she searched her mind for some means of getting away. "Pardon me," she said to her escort, "but where is the privy?"
He looked startled, then smiled, and gave a sharp laugh. "May Xadas forgive me for my forgetfulness. I shall take you there."
Alenxa was grateful that the lecture the night before had evidently not included any sort of requirement that she be chaperoned inside the privy proper. She was also grateful that she had not eaten anything yet; the unknown looming outside was giving her a dancier stomach than she could remember having since the day she had been tested for emPowerment. She tried to invoke calm, reminding herself that they had done nothing, and that the system could not convict them if there were no grounds. Breathing deeply--surprised that she could do so, considering where she was--she adjusted herself one final time, exited, and followed the Xadan back to the narrow room.
A small herd of Xadans awaited her inside. They showed her the garments she would be required to wear, and turned respectfully away while she changed into the first one, but would not let her put on the rest. Instead, they took her to one of the tables, said some words in the ancient tongue that she almost understood, and offered her a plate with a small slice of fruit. Only when she had eaten it did they ceremonially add another layer to her outfit, and there was another prayer before moving to the next table. The prayers got longer as they progressed, and Alenxa's clothing got heavier. By the time the last garment, a red outer robe resembling those of the Xianarans, was added, she felt ready to scream in frustration and fear, but dared not bring any more wrath down on herself than she seemed to have earned.
They prodded her out of the room and up a waiting flight of stairs that led to a side entrance of the Yard. She waited, tense in the grip of one of the Xadans, as the circle and the lamplighting took place again, and tried to convince herself that the Xianaran with the bottle wasn't staring at her. She kept waiting as the High Servants made their speeches, and then marched obediently, unsteadily forward when told. They led her up onto the platform, to a seat on the Xadans' side, and then scurried off. Alenxa looked across the platform and saw Dialasin being installed in a similar seat. He caught her eye, but only looked at her.
"The first day is for answers," said the Xadan High Servant, startling her out of her stare. "You will answer, and answer only what is first in your mind and your heart. We will know what you have said, and we will know the truth of it as siXadas has given us to know."
"Those emPowered among us shall know only truth," continued the Xianaran High Servant. "You shall answer as we have said, and your answers will be tried as you will be. If you would guard your words, guard also your thoughts."
They had Readers, Alenxa realized, and fought her face to a standstill as one Xadan and one Xianaran stepped out of their lines. The Xianaran who took a place next to Dialasin was a stranger, but from the look on his face, he knew the Xadan standing next to Alenxa.
"We shall begin as we must, with the beginning," said the Xadan High Servant. "Dialasin. The first answer is yours today. You will explain to all the nature of your relationship with the woman Alenxa, all you can remember. That which is lacking shall be noted, and you will be asked of it again."
He began at the beginning, the day twenty-odd years ago when they had met at the Temple classes at the age of six. Alenxa listened, smiling at some of their shared recollections and wondering how she could have forgotten others. And there were those she remembered that he seemed not to--the day they had been caught trying to put fish in the Temple pools, their talks about the nature of life and whether any one religion had it right. He was careful, too, to leave out the details about their testing for emPowerment. Neither of them could have forgotten the fear that they would be separated and secluded in dusty schools for the years it took to master a Power, their hasty decision to experience "the grown-up part of life" with the only person they knew would be willing. Alenxa had met her first suitor at the test, and she and Dialasin had not spoken again of that night until the present tangle had begun.
The morning moved toward noon, and the sun began to heat Alenxa's heavy clothing. She gave thanks when the High Servants announced the noon meal, and was even happier when the entire party moved inside their respective temples. Eating was another ceremonial affair, with particular foods chosen for their significance and symbolism in relation to the Inscriptions, and lengthy readings of portions of the Inscriptions themselves. She could see Dialasin across the room, but, as she had expected, she could not talk to him. The worst of the heat of the day had passed when they returned to the Yard.
It was Alenxa's turn, now, to recount everything she could remember about Dialasin's place in her life. She told her stories, remembering a few new ones as she went along. The High Servants asked her only to elaborate, as they had asked of Dialasin a few times; and when they were satisfied with her answers, there was a litany and an outdoor meal that took long enough for the sun to set. As some initiates finished clearing the dishes, the Xianaran at the lamp prepared to put it out, and the other servants began to file off the platform and out of the yard.
"This day was for answers. The next is for decision." The Xadan High Servant rose. "So shall it be. We shall begin again at sunrise. SiXadas angara."
"So shall it be," replied the Xianaran High Servant. "You will retire to quarters. SiXianis angara."
Retiring to quarters was not the simple affair it had been the night before. Alenxa was led through the narrow room again, this time having a heavy piece of ceremonial garb removed with each prayer, and without food. When they saw that she had brought no shoes of her own, they allowed her to keep the pair she had worn during the proceedings, reminding her to return them once the trial was over. They led her to a bathing room, and one of them escorted her inside but fortunately did not attempt to assist her. She put her own clothing back on and followed, exhausted, as the Xadans led her back to the cell.
A rattling at the doorslit woke her. "What?" Alenxa called, not wanting to get up. "It cannot be morning."
"You must . . . do what you have left," said a voice--a female voice, rushed and breathless. "Do what--"
Alenxa sprang over to the door, rattling it right back. "Who are you?" she demanded. "How did you get in here?" The eyes peering through the slit were wide, dark, and scared.
"It cannot matter," said the woman, her eyes darting back and forth. "Do what it is to do a thing you have to do. That is all I can say. I must leave--" She looked again from side to side, then turned and ran. Alenxa thought she saw a flash of red in the darkness, but the sleep-fog in her mind kept her from making any judgments. She turned the cryptic phrase over, recognizing the speech of Prophecy. And, she thought with a numbing yawn, all Prophecy showed its truth in time. Rest would not only help her to figure it out, but also fortify her for the day ahead, and she wasted little time in getting back to sleep.
The next day, after the same dressing ritual and greeting ceremony, Alenxa was walked to the other side of the platform, where the Xianarans were; Dialasin sat with the Xadans. In keeping with the switch, their Readers changed subjects as well, but the questions the High Servants asked that day seemed the only things not to be dictated by sex. They asked Dialasin what dealings he had had with other women, or with other men; and they asked him, directly, whether he had had sexual dealings with Alenxa, which he answered truthfully and explained at length. After the noon meal, they asked her, getting much the same type of answers, then disappeared. And after the evening meal, with all the formality of the night before, they came back to the Yard. When all the servants but the dozen or so on the platform had left, Alenxa expected another closing like the first, but there was more.
"Alenxa Devaxi," said the Xianaran High Servant. "The first answer belonged to you. The time for answers has nearly passed."
"Dialasin," said the Xadan High Servant. "The final answer belongs to you. Speak the truth, that siXadas may be pleased. You love the woman Alenxa?"
"She has spoken for both of us," said Dialasin. "She is my friend, as all present now know. A life such as we have lived could not lead to anything but love."
"You mistake the question, as did she." The High Servant looked a bit troubled. "It is true that you do not desire her as a lover? We are clear, or mistaken?"
Dialasin shot Alenxa a glance, then looked forward, erasing the expression from his face. "No, you are correct. In that way, I do not love her."
It was a lie, and they both knew it. Alenxa felt something cold settle in the pit of her stomach, and she looked, suddenly afraid, at the Reader next to Dialasin. The man's eyes were closed, his head down. As she watched, he opened his eyes and turned his gaze first toward the Reader by Alenxa and then to the High Servants. The coldness settled deeper as she realized the rest of them knew, too.
The High Servant looked down, and when he looked back up it was with an expression Alenxa could not readily identify. "So shall it be. If this is true, that you do not love this woman, perhaps it will not affect you so much to watch her die."
Alenxa gasped, barely able to breathe, much less to see what was happening to Dialasin as the pronouncement descended upon him. So this was why she was here. Only to die, for something Dialasin had not done.
"You will be at rest," the High Servant instructed, and through clearing eyes, Alenxa saw two Temple men putting Dialasin back in his chair. "This is the way of all hearings that end as this one has. You are not alone in your distaste, or in your reaction. You may always recant, and the process will begin again. We will grant you this right, to confess, until life cannot be restored to the body of this woman." He stood, followed by the Xianaran. "This day was for the decision. Tomorrow is for the action."
Alenxa didn't hear the intonations, didn't notice the bottle Xianaran staring openly at her. She could only think that she was to be the instrument of Dialasin's death, or to die herself. It was all she thought about through the entire removal ceremony, through the halls, and into the cell. Death she could accept, but with him forced to watch--no. Neither could she live with the memory of watching him die. There had to be a way out of this, something she had not yet thought of. Do what you have left, said the voice of the stranger in her head. Do what it is to do a thing you have to do. And she understood.
They had taken her belt, her easy way out. She would have to find another way. There was nothing in the cell that was not bolted down or made of cloth; even the sanctity box on the back of the door was melted into the ironwork. Suddenly, she thought of her rings, and assessed each one. Heavy metal would not bend, and delicate spirals of wire would do nothing but. None were of breakable glass or had sharp metal points. Then her eyes fell on the band of copper encircling her last left finger. She had taken it off her finger and placed it beneath her foot when the trance gave out.
Alenxa recoiled, shaking and praying, trying to convince herself that she had not truly been about to do what she knew perfectly well she had. The Inscriptions said that self-sacrifice was never punished if it was for a good reason, and all Bianxeni knew that love was always the worthiest cause. Maybe this would atone for her complicity in the whole mess--she should have pushed him farther away, should never have let him stay near her. But it was too late now, she realized, and there was nothing else left to do. She stepped on the ring.
She knew why copper was not used for knives; it was too soft, would not hold an edge. But that was for knives used often, to cut things that resisted. She felt sure that if she could get an edge, it would hold long enough to cut once through flesh. The rough foundation stones of the cell wall became her whetstone, and after a time she did not bother to count, the makeshift blade drew blood in a line on the back of her hand. Alenxa saw, in the moonlight peering through the cell window, her last chance to turn back, and went forward.
Carefully, she sat on the floor, arranging herself so that she could lie quietly when the time came. Bianxeni were traditionally buried in their last position of life, and she would not let herself be buried in a heap any more than she would let anyone see her death. She drew the misused ring across a wrist, then up the forearm, gasping at pain that slowly ebbed. Suddenly tired, she lay down, thinking of Dialasin. He probably knew what she was doing, she decided; he had always known more than she did about these things. It was almost funny, how she would know more in just a few heartbeats--or were there any, anymore? Alenxa thought she smiled, but she couldn't tell if her lips responded. She was curling up in a gray blanket, and the dreams were beginning. She couldn't tell where she ended, and everything else began.
They found her, carefully arranged, the ring next to her limp, scratched fingers. She could have been sleeping, but for her ruined arm and the smile on her face.
The High Servants took the news with mild surprise when the wardens came to tell them in their quarters. One of them may have gasped, but none of the others noticed. They immediately called a non-trial audience, in the Yard, with Xadans and Xianarans alike. Ceremonially, they announced that the woman being held pending trial for the Xadan brother Dialasin had committed suicide. There was a cry from the audience, and one of the Xadans standing at the far edge of the platform fell to his knees. The High Servant named a time for the burial--a proper one, as was accorded all suicides, their motives being unknown. The trial was over, forced to a conclusion by the loss of both half its evidence and its driving force; the brother Dialasin would be restored to his former place of credit in the temple. The body would be turned over to the Xianarans for preparation; the burial would take place at sunset.
Their business concluded, the Xadans left the platform. All but one. The Xadan who had fallen remained, kneeling, for a long time. At last he stood, shakily, and returned to Xadas. Some said he was at the burial, but none could be sure. Only the Xadans knew what happened to him after that day. But somehow, when the woman was buried, there were rings on all ten of her fingers.
Copyright © 1999 by Katherine Foreman.