Richard Tuttle - Web of Deceit

“Secrecy and safety are one in the same,” he shouted, “and how are you doing that?”

The entire council stopped talking and turned to stare at Mistake. Rejji stood.

“They are not quite the same,” Rejji declared. “Mistake has just shown you that she can violate your secrecy, but she has not endangered your safety. The words you thought were being spoken in privacy were heard over here. They could just as easily have been heard in Khadora. In fact, everything we have seen and heard since entering the jungle could have been shared with Khadora. None of it has been shared. I do not know how to impress upon you that we are not a threat to your safety or your secrecy. We have already had the opportunity to tell the world about the Qubari Jungle and all of its strangeness. Ask yourselves why we have not and you will understand why we will not.”

“You can converse with Khadora?” Yltar asked.

Mistake nodded.

“Will you show me how to do it?” he questioned.

“Only if I get permission from the one who taught me,” Mistake declared.

“And why is that?” Yltar asked. “We have the power to set you free and you will not show your secrets to gain that freedom?”

“I have given my word not to teach it to others without her approval,” stated Mistake. “I will ask her if you wish.”

“I may request that in the future,” Yltar grinned, “but for the present, I think you have just shown that you value your word highly. I ask my fellow council members to consider this in our deliberations, which will remain private this time.”

Mistake smiled and nodded and let the Air Tunnel dissipate. The council members returned to their discussion and finally fell silent.

“Bakhai,” Dumo asked, “if we allow your friends to go free, will you stay with us?”

“I would like very much to spend some time in the land of parents,” Bakhai declared, “but I have given my word to see this task completed. I am willing to return here after we find the Sage of the Mountain, if that is desired and allowed.”

Rejji and Mistake turned and stared at Bakhai with amazement on their faces, but Dumo merely nodded.

“Very well then,” Dumo said. “It is the ruling of this council that we shall accept your vows of secrecy and allow you to continue your journey. I want to impress upon the three of you that there are many lives at stake here. It is a heavy burden we place upon you, but we expect you to bear it. This is the ruling of the council.”

Pulom and Anderal drifted away from the table, but Dumo and Yltar approached the Fakarans.

“Bakhai,” ordered Dumo, “I would like to visit with you privately. Follow me.”

“My friends should come too,” objected Bakhai.

“No,” smiled Yltar. “That will not be necessary. They are coming with me so that I can explain to them how to find the Sage of the Mountain. You go with the Chief.”

Bakhai nodded when he saw the glee on Mistake’s face and he followed Dumo out of the courtyard. Dumo led him to a small sitting room with cushions on the floor.

“Sit, please,” Dumo said in a soft voice. “You are enough to send an old man to his grave. You have his stubborn streak for sure.”

“My father?” asked Bakhai. “You knew him?”

“I knew him well,” smiled Dumo. “We never saw eye-to-eye on things, but he was a good man. You are very much like him.”

“Tell me about him,” asked Bakhai, “please.”

“I would like that,” nodded Dumo. “He was a very special Qubari. He was perhaps the most brilliant talker that ever lived. Finding a talker here is not too difficult. We know the families that produce them and many times the children show signs of it, but their abilities are not realized until they undergo a ceremony designed to awaken the talent. Your father was an exception. He could barely speak when he started communicating with the animals. Never have we seen one so young with so much ability. He should have become shaman.”

“Why didn’t he?” Bakhai queried.

“He had many strange notions about things,” replied Dumo. “Qubari have always remained hidden in the jungle. It is our gift and our duty to protect it. He saw his duty extend beyond the edges of the jungle. When he was a young man, he left the jungle and ventured out into the world.”

“Why?” questioned Bakhai. “What made him turn his back on the Qubari?”

“He didn’t see it as turning his back on us,” the Chief responded. “A generation before your father, a young woman ran away from the jungle. Some say she was crazy, others that she just wanted more than what was here. Whatever her reason, she left and married an invader. They had a son and he was named Grulak.”

“The Grulak that leads the Jiadin?” gasped Bakhai.

“The same,” continued Dumo. “When the son was older, but not yet a man, this woman returned to us. She told us that she was afraid for the Qubari because of her son. She said something had invaded her son, something evil. The boy enjoyed killing things. It was animals at first and then people. He spoke in strange tongues and drew strange symbols on the wall with the blood of those he had killed. What prompted her return was her son had murdered her husband.”

“Grulak killed his own father?” Bakhai asked.

“Yes,” nodded Dumo. “This woman feared for her life and her people. She wanted to live out the rest of her days in the jungle. I would not let her. I told her to return to her son and keep watch over him. If he became a threat to our people, she was to kill him. If she could not, then she was to return here to warn us.”

“Did she ever return?”

“She returned just recently,” frowned Dumo. “She warned us that the Jiadin would attack us soon. Then she died.”

“What does this have to do with my father?” asked Bakhai.

“Your father was a student of the prophecies of the ancients,” explained Dumo. “He took the birth of Grulak as a sign and decided that the Qubari’s best defense was in creating a climate in Fakara that would hinder the massing of the tribes. He left the jungle to improve Fakara.”

“Did he ever return?” questioned Bakhai.

“Only once,” Dumo said with sadness in his face. “He returned with his Fakaran wife just before you were born.” Tears welled up in Dumo’s eyes and he quickly wiped them away. “I told him to stay with us, but he refused,” Dumo continued, his voice breaking. “We had an argument and I told him that if he left, he could never return. He was stubborn as you are now. He would not back down from an argument and neither would I. He left and I never saw him again.”

“You were close to him, weren’t you?” surmised Bakhai. “It is the sign of a good ruler to love his people so. Your people must love you as well.”

“He was not one of my people,” sobbed Dumo. “He was my son.”

Bakhai stared as the Chief of the Qubari broke down and cried. He moved over to his grandfather and hugged him.

***

“There is only one path up the mountain,” Yltar stated. “It is narrow and dangerous. Many of those seeking the wisdom of the Sage, never complete their journey. Even if you succeed in gaining the peak, there is no guarantee that he will even allow you to see him. He has refused many.”

“How will we know if he has refused us?” asked Mistake.

“You just will not be able to see him,” answered Yltar. “He will not exist for you. That is why many believe he no longer exists. People travel to see his wisdom and find nothing but rock. I believe he is eternal, but that only some are deemed worthy of his wisdom. Others believe differently.”

“So we may make this perilous trip and never get to speak to him?” quizzed Rejji.

“That is what you face,” nodded Yltar. “Your chances of success are slim. We can provide you with an escort to the edge of the jungle, but our people will go no further. Is it truly necessary for Bakhai to go?”