WESTRIAL
They heard singing as they ran to the tent, and when they entered there were many sitting, but some slowly dancing in circles, and before them all there were drummers and cithar players and in their midst was a dark skinned, dark haired woman, head raised who sang:
Ahna Ahnar ahna Ahnar
Ahnar Ahnar ahna ahna
ahna āmar ahna āmar
āmar āmar ahna ahna
As Adrian watched the dancers moving about in circles, saw some sitting, legs crossed, eyes closed, chanting, some with prayer beads hanging from their fingers, he whispered, “I have seen them before. From afar. I have heard of them.”
Adrian sat down amidst them, and Teryn thought, “This one isn’t put off by anything. But there was nothing else to do and so he sat and Cody with him. Looking like a cat in water, Eva remained firmly at the entrance of the tent with Linalla
Ahna Ahnar ahna Ahnar
Ahnar Ahnar ahna ahna
ahna āmar ahna āmar
āmar āmar ahna ahna
“What in the world is this?” Teryn wondered, as the singing went on. It was not like in the cathedrals. One man touched his hand and smiled, but turned back singing and these people seemed in an ecstasy of joy, There were the young, the silly like Adrian, who was really sort of silly, but the very old, the dark, the light, black and white, all manner of people in something that was obviously prayer. This was some sort of temple and yet… There was the joy as a great festival.
The beat of the drum changed suddenly, and the singer grew more strident, the dancers moved in an almost march.
Ahna Ahnar ahna Ahnar
Ahnar Ahnar ahna ahna
ahna āmar ahna āmar
āmar āmar ahna ahna
What did it mean? Ah, but, Ahnar was a name for Annatar. Was this from the Royans? Oh, but… He grew silent.
He was holding Ned’s slender, smooth body between his legs, running his hands up and down his back, and through his hair, was what it was. What would happen to them, where this would go, neither one of them could say, and then one day it ended as quickly as if had begun.
Ahna Ahnar ahna Ahnar
Ahnar Ahnar ahna ahna
Back in the south lands, back with Uncle Ned.
…While they were in the midst of it, while Ned was making love to him, he heard a scream, and Ned rolled over, terrified. Teryn sat up, terrified to see his father.
“What are you doing?” he demanded. “What are you?”
Ned rose up, but then Teryn’s father was gone, running down the stairs. Quickly they dressed and headed after him, through the house, into the barn.
“Alveric!” Ned called out.
“Damn you!” roared the voice of Teryn’s father.
He came back into the house running with a great pitchfork.
“Alveric!” Ned shouted.
And then, just like that, in a gout of blood, Teryn saw Ned, pinned to the ground, his face showered with blood, twitching.
He went to his knees, and Ned looked at him, lips trembling like the rest of his body until, quite quickly, his green eyes lost all color and went dull as stones, lids unclosing.
Teryn did not scream. His father made no noise. No one said anything. There was no noise. Nothing.
Ahna āmar ahna āmar
āmar āmar ahna ahna
Holding Ned’s slender, smooth body between his legs, running his hands up and down his back, and through his hair, was what it was. What would happen to them, where this would go, neither one of them could say, and then one day it ended as quickly as if had begun.
Oh God! Oh Gods whom he had never believed in, whom he could not be bothered to think about, that was how it had begun. He had made himself stop thinking about Ned, stopped thinking about the day Ned died in his arms, and he had fled and never returned home. He had loved Ned. He had loved Ned perfectly. Ned had raped him. Ned had been weak and wrong, but the love was not wrong. How could love ever be wrong? And in those moments, without moral, without story, Ned had been his first lover and, somehow, they had loved perfectly. And his father had loved him, and maybe loved his own pride and blood and pitchfork and death had been the result and oh…. Oh gods.
“Teryn!” Cody whispered beside him in alarm.
Oh Gods, and even out on those streets, love. And the night when Anthony had finally come, love. And love was tearing him apart. Love was breaking his heart.
The singer called out: “Hyam Mo Am Manawate Varayana!”
And the people sang back:
“Hyam Mo Am Manawate Varayana!”
They sang
“Hyam Hyam Hyam
Hyam Mo Am Manawate Varayana!”
Beside the singing woman a man chanted
“Abandon all varieties of religion and just surrender unto Me. I shall deliver you from all sinful reaction. Do not fear.”
ahna Ahnar ahna Ahnar
Ahnar Ahnar ahna ahna
ahna Ahnar ahna āmar
āmar āmar ahna ahna.
As the music died down, the man who had touched Teryn before said to Teryn, who was red faced and wet faced and losing composure, but not embarassed at all, “Maha Tanavi,” pointing to the singing woman, whose eyes had been on them just a moment, but which were lowered now in contemplation, “would have you dine with us tonight.”
“Ahna and Ahnar are the names of love,” Ahnayari said as she ripped into the flat bread and passed it to the reluctant Linalla.
“Names for Varayan,” Adrian said. “Ifandell Modet spoke of them.”
“Yes,” Ahnayari said. “For though you are disciples of Modet, she was a disciple of Vikram Adanda. He was one of the Five Teachers of Love.”
Linalla and Eva seemed supremely disinterested, but Adrian said, “I have heard something about them.”
“The Ard came, and he was the Word for some,” Ahnayari said.
“He was the incarnation in which Varayan came to teach the world to find silence and peace in themselves and then create compassion in the whole world. Annatar came into the world as Varayan the lover. He came to show the world the path to peace through direct love and devotion. Before was the Age of the Ard, and it will not pass, and between it was the Age of War, and it is said as long as the world endures, war shall not pass either. But now is the Age of Love as was before, as shall return again and again. For it is of love that the world was made.”
It was here that Eva sneered and Linalla snorted.
“Did I say something, Princess?”
Linalla said, “You are not the first prophetess to talk of love and throw out flowers. What you say is fine and good in this tent, but I grew up in the court of Essail and there is little room for love there.”
“Then perhaps you should make room?” Ahnayari suggested, blandly, and passed Linalla the tomato curry.
“Perhaps in all the places where love is not love should be planted. One of our sages once said, “Now, the Dark Age has come. Plant the Ursuham, the Name of God.”
But Adrian finished
“‘It is not the season to plant other seeds. Do not wander lost in doubt and delusion.’ Imbeth said it. In the Books of Gold.”
“Yes,” Ahnayari nodded.
“This is the Age of War,” Linalla said. “There was war in the north and so we fled, and my mother and my father made alliance with the House of Sussail to protect us, but that turned out to mean nothing. Now we are going to my Uncle Cedd as soon as possible, and what we will meet when we get there, I cannot say.”
Linalla took a breath, then said, “I have never been one for prophecies and prophets unlike my cousin and his family.”
Ahnayari looked undisturbed, but now she looked to Teryn.
“I knew you were singing about love,” he said. “Even though I didn’t understand the words. I knew. And… I remembered love. Love I made myself forget. And it was beautiful, Lady. But… I confess, I do not understand how this can be an Age of Love. This is an age of battle. There was war in the north and war is in the south. This is a time of war at the end of times of war. Love is so…”
“Weak?” Ahnayari said.
“Simple,” Eva said.
Cody had not spoken, and Adrian studied them all. Linalla had stopped talking.
“But if love was weak,” Ahnayari said, “why was it at the base of all your life, Teryn? Even the dark places where you thought it was not? And if it was so weak, then why have you spent your life armoring yourself against it?”
Teryn did not answer.
Ahnayari turned to Eva.
“Sister, you have the look of one who has mistaken desire and seduction for love, and perhaps you no longer recognize it.”
Eva’s eyes flashed, but only for a moment. There was no harm in Ahnayari, who did not smile, but looked on her steadily.
“Anyone who thinks love is weak or simple simply has not attempted it. War ends in war, strife in strife. All ends in all. Only love, ending in itself, brings joy.”
