Dilemma

"Gods, what a climb! Will I never recognize the futility inherent in this undertaking." The mystic ascended the last step of the staircase cut into the cliff. He surveyed the broad, scrubby plain littered with boulders that appeared to be the misplaced workings of a drunken deity. Tir'shan wiped the milky film of sweat from his brow with his palm. Rocks, only rocks. Not a single tree for shade anywhere on this desolate plateau. I was a gods be damned fool not to have worn a hood this time, he decided bitterly. Such a precaution would have indicated common sense, a faculty that I clearly do not possess. I must never trust the weather predictors again. Clouds and cold, indeed! They do not yet understand that the weather is a toy to the asira'savi, and subject to their whims.

The mystic breathed deeply of the hot, dry air. Not a single cloud had obscured the sun during his lengthy and arduous climb. The unmerciful orb had burned the tender skin beneath his white and brown fur. The brilliant light had tortured his sky blue eyes until they had become a painful mass of watering tissue.

Tir'shan squinted at his feet. A patch of dried blood marred the toe that he had stubbed on a sharp stone. And boots. Next time, fool, wear boots, not sandals, even if you have to borrow them. He smiled despite his sore arches. If you can find some unfortunate who has feet as wide and as long as yours, he thought with amusement. Never trust the promises of an overworked bootmaker, no matter which god he vows upon.

He shook the dust from his braided mane, and immediately regretted his action. Violent sneezing rocked his body. When the spasms ended, Tir'shan pulled a cloth from his pouch, and wiped his runny nose. Gods, Ta'hir, if you don't surrender to reason soon, these climbs will kill me, he decided. The gods help you, if you don't answer my summons this time. If didn't think that I could raise some sympathy in you by virtue of my pitiful condition, I would heal myself of these discomforts, and then leave you to rot forever in this forsaken retreat.

"Ta'hir!" No reply came to his powerful call. "Clanless one," Tir'shan muttered. "I should let you--" The breeze carried a faint sound. He listened carefully, and pinpointed the source. He headed swiftly towards a collection of huge stones.

A red tiger sitting on the hard ground came into view as the mystic rounded the largest boulder. The Thunderan worked a piece of wood that he held in his bony hand. With each skillful cut of his knife, a chip flew onto the pile of shavings that surrounded him. Without pausing in his work, the gaunt figure said quietly, "This time, I have caught you, Tir'shan."

The mystic answered, "I am too tall to miss, engineer. I would be concerned about your eyes and your ears had you not noticed me."

"You are no warrior, Tir'shan. I heard your huffing long before your shout. Could it be that the peaceful flow of life on this world has made you unfit?"

"Nonsense!" It is bad enough that I have had to humor your eccentric manner, he thought hotly, but now to be insulted-- The mystic tugged at his leather belt, and marked the tightness of its fit. He had not succeeded in shedding all of his protective winter fat. Each movement now strained the fabric of his tunic and his trousers. Damn him for being right!

Fearful of splitting his clothes if he squatted, the mystic remained standing. "Tell me who have you immortalized in wood this time?" he said, casually trying to steer the conversation away from his failings. "The carvings with which you have decorated that formidable staircase have vastly increased in number since my last visit. You have either been very busy, or they have learned how to reproduce."

Setting aside his knife on the ground, the shorter tiger rose, then brushed the wood chips off his ak'ti. Offering the figurine to the mystic, he said, "See for yourself, giant. It is finished."

Tir'shan regarded the statue. It was the tallest and one of the most complicated figures that the engineer had ever carved from the wood supplied by the forest below. Its outstretched arms offered solace. The face had a confident expression that he sheepishly recognized as his own. Ta'hir had miraculously replicated every detail of his dress and bearing, from the folds of his robe to the wicked twists in the braid that reached to his hips.

Tir'shan followed the grain in the form with his finger. How masterful the engineer's carving had become when compared to his first crude efforts done many seasons past. That the reclusive tiger, who he had relentlessly bothered, should chose to render him so favorably seemed incredible. The mystic asked, "Is this how you truly see me?"

"When I have set a figure upon each step, the asira'savi will give me to the silence. You are but another means to that end, Tir'shan," he replied coolly. The tiger stroked the smooth surface of the boulder. He scratched a symbol for death on the stone with his claws. "Is there no way that you can intercede, and end this torture. The serpents have taken from me the right to determine the time of my passing. As one sworn to Mrísena, how can you allow this punishment to continue?"

The plea tore into the mystic's heart as it had on every visit that he had paid to the engineer. Is there no way that I can make you understand that this matter is beyond my control, he thought sadly. Tir'shan gently touched his comrade's shoulder. "You are older than I. Where have you hidden the wisdom that age and experience should have given you? Do you think that if you complete their assignment that the asira'savi will permit you to die? Did you not try to kill yourself, and did they not stop you? And when you fought back, and refused all food and water, did they not sustain you? Each dawn finds you nourished by their will alone. Ending your life was never a choice. When will you surrender to their will, and rejoin our people?"

"Never!" Shame burned in his amber eyes like a torch. "By fracturing the crystals of our spaceship's light drive, I had hoped to destroy our vessel, and in so doing, take with us to the silence half the Mutant star fleet. How in the name of Irri'in, was I to know that my actions would not destroy our craft, but instead hurtle it through time and space to the one gods forsaken planet in our galaxy that offered hope to our people.

"I saved our race, Tir'shan, but after the asira'savi revived us, our people asked only for my death. 'Betrayer of the King.' 'Coward'. Those are the names that they gave to me. 'Better to have died with Claudus', they raged. Only King Lir accepted my testimony without question, knew of my true intent, but the people never accepted his decision that I be spared. In their hearts, I had committed the worst possible crime. To them, I felt a debt.

"The action and the responsibility were mine, Tir'shan. I had hoped that death by my own hand would satisfy the people, and heal the division that I had caused between them and the new king; however, the asira'savi decided otherwise. Now, I am a'tri'i, outcast by my own choosing to repent of my misdeed. If my suffering is to have meaning, I must believe that the asira'savi will uphold their promise, and eventually grant to me the peace that I have long sought."

"Your name is now spoken with the same reverence as was once given to the great Jaga. The people long ago recognized their error and seek your forgiveness. We have been on this world more than five seasons. How many more seasons must past until you forgive them and yourself?"

The tiger shoved him aside with a strength rare for one so emaciated. "Take your compassion back to the temple, priest, I have no use for it." The engineer approached a pile of branches, and selected one almost as tall as him.

"Arrogant one, even I have only so much patience!" Tir'shan growled. "Raise that stick against me, and I will forget my vows."

"Go now, giant, and avoid disgrace."

The mystic squelched an urge to destroy the carving that he still held in his hand. That is not what I came here to accomplish! Goddess, please end my fury. He quietly placed the statue of himself upon a flat rock. He regarded the ungrateful tiger whose combative stance indicated an unwillingness to listen further. He marked the lightening of his fur to a paler hue of orange, and the flecks of white that peppered his black eyebrows. Ta'hir, you deserve healing, not anger, he conceded to himself. The only thing you have gained from your self-imposed punishment is premature aging.

His gaze drifted one last time to the statue. His wooden self possessed a surety that had deserted him. Despite my shortcomings, it is still my duty to restore you to yourself, Ta'hir, and to the people who have need of your skill, he decided. This day, I have a deadly surprise for you: an extra arrow that I pray the Goddess will guide into your hardened heart. If it fails, I believe that only She alone will have the power to release you from the seductive call of the silence.

"I will leave you to your work, but before I go, I have one last medicine to force upon you. The asira'savi may know of another world that has given sanctuary to our people." The engineer dropped the branch that he held. The disbelief in his expression would have only been greater had the mystic proclaimed himself king. Tir'shan grinned with satisfaction. So, I have finally diverted your attention away from yourself. He said calmly, "That is all that I have come to tell you. Farewell." The mystic turned away from the stunned tiger, and walked back toward the cliff.

Before setting his foot on the first step, he waited for a sound that signaled pursuit. He heard only the whistle of the light winds through the cracked rocks. I don't expect you to follow, Ta'hir, he thought as he started down the staircase, you're too damn proud. My tired and aching body will have to wait for healing until I complete this descent. I won't slow my pace, and allow you the opportunity to chase after me if you suddenly change your mind. If the Goddess answers my prayers, your natural curiosity will drive your thoughts away from death and to my revelation. By the time of my next visit, our conversation may be very different.

A figurine that had fallen blocked his path. "Irri'in," he murmured, identifying the individual. The god of knowledge had lost the tip of one of his long wings. "How can thoughts take flight if you cannot," he asked wryly as he righted the idol. The mystic eyed the line of statues that dotted the steps below. A unknown creature had dealt an equal indignity to the image of Queen Ki'a by expertly gnawing off her patrician nose. The elements had only enhanced Lord Trel of the red tiger clans. The deepening of his scowl had made the statue appear frighteningly real.

"So many of you I know; so many of you are strangers," he said to the statues that he passed. He paused and looked back up to the first step. "But one thing is certain, there is little room for anyone new. You have done your job too well, Ta'hir. Not many places remain empty. I hope that the asira'savi end their investigation before you finish your task."

The water serpents had certainly not given him any additional information since they had informed him of the amazing news some 30 Thunderan-reckoned suns past. "Or was it 32 suns," Tir'shan muttered to himself. The length of a day on the world of the orri'savi, the four forms, was double that on Thundera. He had to admit that he found it annoying to rectify the passage of time from one system to another. "My body tells me that it is night, and that I should be asleep," he grumbled. The mystic marked the position of the sun. It had moved little across the sky in the several hours that had elapsed since he had begun his ascent of the steep slope.

He removed an intricately carved statue of an asira'savi from an alcove by his feet. "Have you been truthful with me?" he asked the coiled snake. "There are times when I think that you have known the answer all along to this puzzle, and have kept it a secret. Does it amuse you to play with inferior beings such as us, scaly one?" Tir'shan set the serpentine form back into the recess that the elements had hewn from the rock wall. "There are three Thunderans who now know of your search. When will you give us peace from our uncertainty?"

His empty stomach gurgled an answer different from the one he had sought. "No food for you, complaining one," he scoffed, "no matter what Te'sara insists when we return home. After we have healed and rested, and the black sky shines brightly with stars, we will accompany the warriors on the hunt. With such exercise, we can rid ourselves of the fat that we have permitted to invade our once lean form." Tir'shan skipped lightly over a carving of a plump snarf. "Next time, Ta'hir," he promised, "I will come upon you with the stealth of the silence."