Page 94 of The Seeker
Your own.
“You are talking in circles.”
Only because you are walking in them.The fox leapt off the stump and splashed into the starry water.You know of what I speak.Matsah mashul. Find the path and the answers will come to you.
“Vasu?” She yelled after the fox. “Stop invading my dreams.”
“I’m not.” The dark angel stood beside her, looking down. “You invite me in. Look at the stars.”
She looked. “They fill the sky.”
“And the earth.”
“No, it’s only a reflection of heaven.”
“Only to those who haven’t yet seen the heavens.” His voice came from all around her, filling the wind that cut through the flooded forest. “The balance you seek is an illusion.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Do you know more than I?”
“Maybe I do.”
The bright smile cut across his beautiful face, illuminating it in the darkness. “Arrogance becomes you.”
“You are the only one who says that.”
“No.” The rustle of the cane fields filled the wind. “I am not.”
The forest sank into the stars, and rising before her, the green cane fields swept out toward the horizon. A tall figure stood in the distance, arms held out, long fingers brushing the top of the drifting grass.
“Who is it?”
You know. You have always known. He was created for you when the stars were born. The keeper of memory and the seeker of truth.
She walked toward him, but he was always in the distance, just past her reach.
You know how to reach him.
“I know.”
She had always known.
Meera woketo see the blue light of predawn shining around the woven curtain. A shadowed figure stood in the distance.
She rose and left Rhys’s side, wrapped a light scarf around her shoulders, and stepped out into the cool morning as the stars faded above her.
Ata spoke in a low voice. “The magic of our first mothers was only passed from mother to daughter,” she said. “That was how everyone was taught. That was how every person was valued. We were all pieces of one whole. Only thesomasikaraheld the whole of our memories.”
“I understand what you’re saying.”
The pain on Ata’s face was brutal. “I never had a daughter. I never bore a child. All my sisters are gone. Unless you take my memories, the songs of our first mothers will die with me.”
“I can hold your memories, Ata, but I cannot be your voice.” The loneliness of the mound nearly ripped Meera in two. “Please don’t choose this path. Walk a little farther if you can.”
Ata said nothing for a long time. “Come with me.” She turned and walked toward the edge of the mound. “I will sing you a song of rising.”
Meera followed her and sat cross-legged on the edge of the mound facing east as Ata started to sing. Her voice was low and guttural, rough at first before her throat warmed to the chant. Meera knew she might be hearing words that hadn’t crossed Ata’s lips in years. Decades maybe. Longer?
