Chapter 20
Mud - Amanki
Before I could recover my thoughts, Baskrod spoke again: “Amanki, you have done well. I need you to please tell me all that happened after we escaped to the boat. I do not remember.”
“I will gladly tell you the whole story,” I replied. “But first, please tell me what you meant when you said that I met my mother.”
“I suppose it is not right to leave you treading after dropping you into that well of knowledge,” he said thoughtfully, stroking his beard.
“You have me so confused.”
“There are many things that you need to know before we reach the city.”
“So we are going to the great city of Tzoladia?” I asked. I had never been to a real city. Maybe if I got as far away from Arvuk as possible, I could start a new life.
“Yes, but first we will stop in Waduk, the Webby capital, for supplies, information, and better transportation,” Baskrod said with a twinkle in his eye. “You will find Waduk to be a fascinating city, although we cannot remain there for long. It is important for me to get you to Tzoladia as soon as possible.”
I gulped. I don’t know why, it just seemed like something I could not even fathom, perhaps it was the way he said it, or maybe it was because of the dreams. “Why?” I asked.
“The new star has appeared, so it is time,” Baskrod replied in such an authoritative tone, despite his weakened physical state, that I did not think to question him.
Instead I flipped the topic back to the one he seemed to be avoiding. “You were going to tell me what you meant about my mother. My mother was murdered, and someday I will kill the man that did it, or rather the monster who did it. He does not deserve to be called a man.”
“Amanki, I am very sorry for the horrible loss of Anada. She was a good mother to you. The people who killed her are unspeakably evil. They care only for their own rewards and think nothing of the pain they cause,” Baskrod said, his voice growing strained. “There is a still deeper evil behind them. May Adon save us from that evil, for vengeance belongs to Adon.” Baskrod paused. “As for your mother, there is no easy way to tell you this. I would have told you earlier, but I kept silent for your safety. The woman you call your mother is not your birth mother, but she never knew that, and she loved you as much as her own birth children.”
“What are you talking about? That can’t be true. How could it be?” The words rolled from my lips as I glanced from Baskrod to Manhera. Then suddenly I asked, “And how did Manhera know, if I couldn’t know?”
“I was the first person that ever held you,” Manhera said in her gentle tone. Warmth rushed over me, since of course, I still wanted her to hold me. But then the curiosity returned.
“If she is not my mother, then who is? And how could she not know?” My questions kept overflowing.
“Amanki, the wind is shifting,” Manhera said suddenly.
I had almost forgotten that we were sailing. I straightened the boat and turned back to Baskrod. He was leaning back with his eyes closed and seemed to be starting to fade into sleep. Manhera must have noticed that he was weakening too.
“He needs his sleep,” she said. “I will tell you what I know while he sleeps.” Baskrod had nodded off. The conversation had drained much of his strength.
“As you know, in our villages, only women are healers. The secrets of healing are passed down through the years. There is so much to learn that at a young age I was dedicated to the art of healing and then initiated into the cult of herbalists by my aunt. What you may not know, unless Baskrod has told you, is about the Society of the Word.” She paused and looked at me questioningly.
“He has mentioned the People of the Word. I know they worship Adon. But I don’t know about the Society,” I said, feeling slightly cheated, but more curious than anything.
“Baskrod is one of the Society of the Word. Among them are traveling men of wisdom, like Baskrod, who spend their lives learning. In order to become a man of wisdom, Baskrod had to study for twenty years under other men of wisdom. Their secrets are never written down by scribes. They must pass rigorous oral tests in order to enter into the society. Once fully initiated, most of them travel to share their knowledge, to help others. A few of them live alone as hermits. They all worship Adon.”
I thought how incredible it would be to spend my life learning like the men of this society.
“How many are there?” I asked.
“I do not know,” she answered, shaking her head from side to side. “Baskrod is the only one I have ever met.”
“But he spends so much time fishing. I thought he was just a really wise fisherman,” I said, feeling kind of stupid.
She laughed, and it was a golden laugh that seemed to glitter in the sunshine. “But you were right,” she said. “He is a really, really, really wise fisherman.”
I laughed with her for a moment, but then became serious again. “Getting back to my birth mother,” I said, my need to know getting the best of me, even though the word ‘mother’ was so hard to speak right now. When my mother died, it felt like I was being robbed of my identity. Now to be told she was not my mother left a gaping hole.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” Manhera said. “As I was explaining, as the apprentice of a healer, I accompanied my aunt in the village birthing hut from the time I was a small girl. Women from Arvuk came to our hut since there was no midwife in your village.”
“One winter day, as I was assisting my aunt, Baskrod brought a young woman who was with child to the birthing hut. She was bundled up in a blanket. They hurried her through to one of the birthing rocks. Her pains had begun. When the blanket fell from her shoulders it revealed her garments, which were nothing like I have ever seen before or since. The material that clung to her skin looked like spun gold. Precious gems were woven into the fabric. They sparkled even in the dim candlelight of the hut. The deep blue cylinder seal that you wear today dangled from her neck.”
I was literally sitting on the edge of my seat, totally oblivious to the rising wind. Just then, a gust hit the sail, whirling us around. I sprang into action and ordered Manhera to man a set of oars. I rushed to take down the sail, fighting to lower it to prevent it from ripping. Incongruously, I prayed to Adon that the Berserker had not chosen this day to drink himself into a rage.