Chapter 1

The Old Woman’s Riddles

The old woman sat by her stone hearth, her thin shoulders wrapped in a Baroda fur turned yellow with age. The fire highlighted the lines and wrinkles of her face making her look even more ancient to the boy than she was. Her small sightless eyes half hidden in pouches of loose skin showed white. What little remained of her hair turned amber in the firelight. As she spoke her voice came thinly in a monotone that hypnotized her listener. She sometime punctuated her stories with gestures and movements that made her clothes rustled like dead branches against a windowpane.

The boy listened to her intently. Sometimes he sat before the chair at her feet, other times he sprawled on the fur rug before the hearth. He hung on her words, for she told of other times, other places and other people.

At times her face was animated and she would smile toothlessly, and he would wonder idly if teeth ever grew in her ancient mouth. Other times her tales were melancholy and tears stained her cheeks. Sometimes she sang, and though her speaking voice was a dry rasp, for some strange reason her singing voice had an almost sweet quality that bespoke of richness gone with age.

He did not doubt she was a cabasha, all knowing and all seeing, despite her blindness. It only stood to reason she had some grasp of the supernatural to live for one hundred and twenty-seven suns. She had outlived her mate, all but one of her children, the boy’s grandfather, and many of her grandchildren. She often spoke of them with warmth and affection. "But none of them were like you, Throad," she would say, always calling him by his nickname. "Like your great grandfather, you’re destined to do something special."

"What am I to do special, Gamma?" he would ask, using the nickname he gave her when he was a child.

She would cackle in her peculiar way and say, "You will know, Throad. When it is time; you will know."

The riddle was one they often played. He would ask and she would always give him the same answer.

He would know?

Know what?

Gamma often spoke in riddles. It was her nature. She said it was his great grandfather’s way. "Ask yourself the question, he would say. The question always comes before the answer, Throad. Remember that."

He did question, and she would often answer with a question of her own.

He would ask, "Why does the snow melt and make the rivers?"

She would answer, "Why is the sun hot?"

"It’s on fire."

"Oh? And who lit the fire?"

"Was it God?"

"Is there a God?"

"I don’t know."

"Neither do I."

He often tried to picture what she must have looked like when she was young. He heard it said she was a rare beauty, but try as he would he could not picture Gamma as anything but old. She was old when he was born. She was old when his mother and father were born.

He asked her once, "Gamma, when did you get old?"

She smiled at this. "When did I stop being young?"

That, he decided, was Gamma’s secret. Though her body was bent by the ravages of time, her mind and spirit were young. She brought her memories to life by telling them to him. She had a whole life to relive through his eyes.

"Throad," she said. "You are the only one who listens to me these days. Maybe someday soon you will get tired of listening to your old Gamma. I hope you remember some of the things we talked about. It is important. You must know where you come from and who your people are; but what is more important is that you know who you are. Knowing yourself is the most important thing of all.”

The boy’s real name was Cullul, but only his mother called him by his given name. Everyone else used the nickname his father had given him when he was but an infant. He did look like a throad—a small squat reptile with large eyes that lived along the riverbanks. When he was younger the nickname hurt, but after fourteen suns he had grown to except it.

One of the reasons he became attached to Gamma was her blindness. He felt secure knowing she could not see his ugliness. Still he was aware she somehow knew how he felt. One day she asked him, "You are unhappy with the way you look?"

"Yes," he answered, after a slight hesitation.

She smiled her crooked toothless smile. "Your great grandfather thought he was ugly too. He thought I was too good for him. Did I ever tell you that?"

"No," he answered truthfully.

"That’s right. He thought I was too beautiful for him. I wonder what he would think if he could see me now that I’ve become a wrinkled old toothless hag," she cackled. "Never being able to see, I never suffered from the prejudices of others when it came to beauty. I don’t know the difference between beauty and ugliness. I never had to choose. Sometimes sightlessness can be a blessing. If I had been able to see, I might have been repelled by the love of my life. It would have been sad. Think of all the joy I would have missed."

"Was he really ugly, Gamma?" he asked.

"I suppose so—to those who could see—but to me, he was beautiful. He was gentle, kind, considerate, loving—all the things a woman dreams of in a man."

"I never thought of him as gentle," he said. "No one ever speaks of him that way."

"That is because you did not know him, Throad. You only know about him. Oh he was fierce with his enemies. But amongst his own children, me, and all our friends, he was one of the gentlest creatures to walk Aloja." She smiled. "There is a lot of him in you, Throad."

"There is?"

"Oh yes. I am not saying you are just like him. You are like yourself. Nobody can be just like anyone else. You are a part of two creatures and each of them is a part of two creatures. Whether we got here by divine hand, or it just happened, it is good it is that way. His blood has been thinned in your veins by the couplings it took to arrive at you; but he is still there. Through you, he lives."

When Cullul remembered back to this conversation he smiled. Often when he was younger Gamma’s words were too deep for him to understand. He was only six when they first spoke of his great grandfather. He could not comprehend her vague references to couplings. Now at fourteen suns he understood she was alluding to sex. He remembered asking, "Is he the reason I look like..."

"...a throad?"

"Yes."

She shrugged. "Maybe he was. What can you do about it? What could he have done about it?"

"I don’t know."

"Search for the question, not the answer."

Gamma often napped during their conversations. Sometimes she drifted off in mid-sentence and woke moments later to continue, not knowing she slept. Sometimes she drifted off into deep sleep that might last for hours.

The boy did not mind. He accepted Gamma’s lapses. He used the time to stare into the fire and ponder her words, his mind created pictures in the flames, while her breath filled the room with a soft buzz.

So it was on this night. She was telling a familiar tale about the desert nomads when her voice grew faint. Her head slumped forward. Her sightless eyes closed and moments later she began to snore softly. Cullul was content to watch the fire, conjuring up visions of Da the Horrible and Kedisha-Kan. Suddenly her head snapped up and she sat very straight in her chair. "Throad," she said in a strong voice. "I must go home."

The boy was puzzled. "You are home Gamma. You’re in your house, before your hearth."

"No Throad. I live here, but this is not my home."

He stared at her, not understanding. "Then where is your home?"

"The desert—I come from the desert. My people are of the desert. I want to return there. I want to go home," she said firmly. "It came to me while I slept. I must be with him."

"With who Gamma?"

"My husband," she said. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. "My time is close, Throad. When it comes I want to lie next to him. If I don’t, I fear I will spend eternity without him."

Cullul pondered her words. She never talked about her own mortality and he found it frightening. She was a constant. Others lived and died around her, but she was eternal. "Are you dying Gamma?" he asked fearfully.

The old woman sighed. Her breath a soft puffs from her shriveled lungs. "I am," she said. "There are strange pains in my belly. They grow worse every day."

The boy moved uneasily, but did not speak.

"You will miss me?" she asked mischievously.

"I don’t believe you’re dying."

"We all must die. We begin to die the day we are born. Each moment we live brings us closer to death. It is not such a sad thing. Death renews."

"But Gamma..."

"No, listen to me, Throad. I must return to the desert. You must take me there."

He stared at her. "How would we get there?" he asked finally. "The desert is so far away."

"It is not so far. We can travel by cart."

"Father will never allow it."

"Then he must not know. It will be our secret."

"But Gamma, I cannot lie to him!"

"Throad, I have never asked anything of you. Now I ask this one thing. The desert gave me life and my bones must rest there next to the man I love."

"But Gamma, no one knows where he’s buried. How will we find him?"

The old woman smiled. "Good Throad…you asked the question. I will give you the answer. I will lead you to him."

"How? You can’t even see."

"The eyes are not the only way to see," said the old woman mysteriously. "You can see with love."

"Love will lead us to great grandfather’s grave?" asked the boy skeptically.

"Love and faith, Throad, are powerful forces. Our capability to feel them and trust in them is what makes us superior to the lesser animals. Without them we would be as nothing. With them, we are everything."

The boy shook his head. "It is a long way Gamma."

"I know," she admitted softly. "Will you take me, Throad? Will you help me return home so I might find peace and sleep with my husband?"

The boy looked into her wrinkled face. He swallowed hard. "I’m afraid, Gamma."

She cocked her head, "Afraid?"

"I’m not afraid for myself. I’m afraid for you. The journey will be long and dangerous."

"Yes," she answered. "So will my journey be when we arrive. I will face the beyond—the infinite. There is no greater journey. But, I will be at peace beside my husband. His strong arms will comfort me in death as they did in life. With him beside me, I will not be afraid."

As always the ugly youth spoke the truth. "I don’t understand. Great grandfather has been dead for a very long time. How can he help you?"

She smiled. "He loved me, Throad. No matter where he is now he still loves me. His spirit is strong, stronger than his mighty muscles were in life. It will guide me and through me you." She placed a bony hand on her withered breast. "He is in here with me always as he is with you. You are of his blood."

The boy stared at the fire. "What will you do if I don’t help you?" he asked.

"What do you think I will do?"

"I think you would try to make the journey alone."

"It is where my heart leads me."

"But you could never do it alone."

"I could try."

"You would die."

"I will die."

Cullul sighed. "Then I have no choice," he said. "I must help you." @�

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Next Chapter: Chapter 2