Solstice

"Why must you fuss, Ri'sar'ri!' the white tiger grumbled. "Can't you let me die with some measure of peace!"

"First of all, you summoned me to your room. Second, you are in good health for someone of your age. Why just three suns past, you gave power to my Circle. And third, your timing is horrible! We have been very busy with all manner of indulgent revelers since before the sun rose," the tall mystic grumbled. He grabbed a small, square pillow, and squeezed it in annoyance. "And sunset has not alleviated the flow."

Sarad waived a finger at him in rebuke. "Loosen your grip, Ri'sar'ri, or we will have feathers all over the room."

"You'll be dead soon, so what will it matter!" Tir'shan huffed sarcastically, as he tossed the green cushion to the elderly mystic. "Although you should be dressed in robes of ivory or gold, not blue, if your demise is imminent. You have always been one for western custom."

Sarad took the pillow, and set it behind his back with a grunt. Leaning back on an ebony chair, he snarled, "It is not as if you had plans for the solstice celebration, although you, of all people, should!"

I am simply not going to win against him, Tir'shan decided as he dropped onto the edge of Sarad's bed. "And what should I be doing on such a day?"

"Impregnating fertile females now that you can!" Sarad roared. "We male mystics need to swell more bellies to ensure our numbers for the good of our people!"

Tir'shan felt an uncomfortable heat rise to his face. Te'sara had often taken the males in the Halls of Healing to task on that matter. The leaders of both the white and red tiger clans had given their blessing to any dalliance of male or female mystics in order to spread and preserve the genes for healing across clan lines. Their decree would have been unheard of on Thundera. This is a new world, Tir'shan thought, but also an old one we forgot long ago with cultures waiting to be rediscovered.

His heart ached as he wondered where Ayasha was on her quest to Oasis, the home of the desert cats. Had she and her companions finally left the coastline to begin their treacherous desert trek inland? Panthro and Chandra were the best protectors; Dah'ri had the gods in his favor; and Taima would surely grow in Mrísena's service while on the road. He sighed in resignation. There is nothing and everything to worry about, he decided.

Perhaps sensing his shift in mood, the ancient one said softly, "Our snarf helpers are caring for Ameera and the other young ones this evening. You should be having some fun, Tir'shan. By Mrísena's holy name, don't waste your youth. Look at me. I am old and ragged, but in my day--"

"You'd have bested Casaphi's antics easily," Tir'shan commented dryly.

"And I have quite the store of memories to relish as I face the Silence!" Sarad chuckled warmly, his pale lilac eyes glimmering with impishness. "I heard you had quite a time in Tabbia with both Casaphi and the Li'am'ra. And that horse you brought home. What a magnificent creature!"

Tir'shan smiled. It was indeed an adventure, a rare gift of freedom for a duty-bound ri'sar'ri. And it had brought him the unexpected benefit of a longer life. But Ryndi and I have not yet been able to help Cori, he thought sadly, considering his fellow ri'sar'ri. She also deserves a normal lifespan. Ryndi's power has not changed her, and that makes no sense.

"The right vibration to end her burden will make itself known," Sarad said, sensing his concern. "Mrísena will guide you, for she has always favored you."

Tir'shan snorted. "Yes, an abandoned cub from the cold north. That was a good start."

Sarad rose swiftly up from his chair. "We walk together in the garden, ungrateful one!" he barked, and pulled the younger mystic to his feet with strength surprising for one who had lived 85 seasons. He summarily left the room, and vanished down the hallway with a speed that belied his advanced age.

Mrísena forgive me, Tir'shan thought with a pang of guilt, for having such hostility dwell within me! Your favor has always benefitted me, despite the difficult path I walk. He paused to examine the sleeve of his blue robe for possible damage caused by Sarad's claws. With an exasperated shake of his head, he followed the elder.

*****

Nightfall and rising breezes from the west had considerably lessened the heat of the day. The gardens matched those they had created on the world of the Orri'savi, interconnected circular havens of tranquility with paths lit by luminous white stones. They crossed through a series of portals until they reached the tiniest garden deep within the complex. Sarad left the hedge door open, privacy apparently not an issue. The elder pointed to a stone bench set next to a pool. Silvery fish disrupted the scattered stars reflected in the water. Sarad murmured a few lyrical words of the old tongue. Several little balls of light suddenly floated over the pool. It cast them both in the comforting glow of simple hearth magic, which aroused the curiosity of the fireflies.

They sat together in silence for some time until Sarad said, "It is important that you know."

"Know what?"

"From whence you sprang."

But I do know, Tir'shan thought with growing alarm. My own mother, Tir'sarla, appeared to me in a dream, and told me that I was Sartren's spawn. I even baited Lord Tygra with this knowledge, although he does not remember it. My mother told me the other mystics never knew my town of origin or parentage. They still do not know, for I have never revealed my dream to anyone, even Ayasha.

But have you ever completely believed the dream, Ri'sar'ri, his conscience challenged. Do you have the courage to hear another telling?

"I brought you from the north to the great temple," Sarad admitted, his eyes distant with remembering.

"Did you also know who my parents were for all these seasons?"

"I suspected, but only recently did I confirm it."

"And Te'sara asked you to tell me?"

"Neither she nor Sri'rin knew that I looked further into the matter, because the question of your origin was always a forbidden topic."

"Why?"

"The mountain tiger, hooded and nameless, who put you in my arms so long ago at the borderlands, insisted that our safety depended on us not knowing. But I always felt that one day you would need to know, that your life would depend upon knowing the truth."

"What did you finally learn?"

Remember when both Ba'sir and his companion separately informed us that you were marked for sacrifice by the rebel mountain tigers? A ri'sar'ri would certainly be a great offering to their evil god. But my conviction was that you must have possessed a personal connection to the northern troublemakers. I suspect Te'sara and Sri'rin have also felt the same way for some time. On the day you surrendered to the tiger drums, my eyes beheld the unmistakable truth. I saw your father in you."

"Sartren." Just saying the name made the bile rise in his throat, for he had wondered what had possessed him that strange day. Now fear mingled with nausea with the implication of a possession by a specter from beyond the Silence.

"By Her Holy Name, you know!"

Tir'shan's hands began to tremble. He grasped them tightly, his claws digging into his palms to focus his mind on the matter being considered. "Only the wisdom of a dream," he said haltingly, "only a dream." He grimaced under the pain he inflicted upon himself. "Tell me the path you have taken, so that I may make sense of it all," he said through gritted teeth.

Sarad set his hand against his shoulder in support. "On the day you danced to the tiger drums, I watched the faces in the crowd, and saw I terror. I felt sure then that the Halls of History could enlighten me. I compiled a list of our mountain tigers faithful to the crown that were still alive. I matched names and faces as I wandered about the city. With stealth I listened to their hushed conversations in the marketplace in the days that followed your exhibition. My opportunity finally came while you were away in Tabbia." He paused, his shoulders tensing with the stress of the knowledge he carried. "We lived separate, anonymous lives. But our paths converged one morning, and I once again spoke to the tiger who had brought you as a cub to the borderlands."

"I must know his name, and how you convinced him to speak of that which so many had kept secret?"

"Mah'di's eyes reflected the River."

"Is he ill? Take me to him, and I will help him!"

Sarad shook his head. "Mah'di crossed into the Silence before you returned, although he was younger than I. He wished for you to know your lineage, so that he could ford the River in peace. He desired to go...a feeling known to many older Felinari since Thundera's passing."

Tir'shan looked to the sky for a distraction from the regret that settled in his gut. A star left the heavens, streaking across the blackness. Birth and death. All the lessons of life could be categorized in the greetings of welcome and farewell. Everyone was bound by this eternal cord. His voice sounded as timorous as that of a frightened cub. "Tell me everything he told you."

He was sure eons had passed, for it seemed as he listened to Sarad's tale that mountains rose and seas receded. "You story matches my dream," he said when the elder finished, "but you have also added to my knowledge."

"Ri'sar'ri, you are indeed a lord of two houses. As a true son of Tir'sarla, you would be related to Lord Tygra through your mother's ancestors, and could claim nobility. I also believe that Sartren himself is related to her house as well. Those among the mountain tigers with whom I have conversed have told many tales of him, and they all commence with the cloud over his own birth."

"Mysteries remain, Sarad. The blood of the white tiger clan entered my parent's houses at some point, that is clear."

"Records from the north have always contained great gaps because of the wars that have plagued the mountain kingdoms. Broken lineage is the rule there, and no mountain tiger would knowingly admit kinship with the white clans of the south and the west."

"As for Sartren's people, they wish me dead, so I have no desire to venture into the wilderness to find them, and ask them more. What little I know of my father's actions, sickens me." After a moment's reflection, Tir'shan added grimly, "I wonder what Lord Trel would have thought of the notion that white blood may flow through the Silver Waters clan by yet another channel."

Sarad sketched the air with his claws, and spit out a curse. "No better than Sartren was he, for all the unhappiness he caused. He has an eternity in darkness to think about that."

Bound in stone by the sea until the stone is no more, along with a faithful, misguided tigress, Tir'shan recalled from Shaktar'ri's telling. Yet, his heart was not always dark. How has Sartren escaped the judgement of the Goddess of Fate for all his misdeeds? Was his heart ever light? "May the gods grant Trel mercy, for none of us is without the taint of darkness and weakness," Tir'shan concluded. "The same might be said of my father."

"There we disagree, Ri'sar'ri. Evil must be cleansed."

"It cannot be if the person does not consent."

"Mrísena forgive me, but with all that the people have suffered, my cup of compassion is empty regarding those two."

"Never!" resounded a lilting alto.

"Ah, you got my message, good. Come in, my delectable Ri'sar'ri," Sarad said to Cori with affection. The plump white tigress gently kissed the top of his silvery white mane streaked with fading umber. Tir'shan offered his place on the bench, but she waved away his courtesy, and instead sat demurely on the grass.

What has she heard? Tir'shan wondered as he realized that Cori's cobalt eyes held his gaze with an emotion he feared was sympathy.

Sarad said softly, "Forgive me for sharing my information, Tir'shan, but she also felt strongly about your dance as well."

Betrayed. Shame crept into his heart, but anger escaped his throat as a low, menacing growl. Cori lowered her eyes.

"Listen to her!" Sarad rebuked. "There must be more to the story."

"Before you departed for Tabbia, it was clear that you wondered what the Li'am'ra experienced on the day of your dance in the words that you did not speak. I say this to you, Tir'shan: Talk to the Li'am'ra about that day to allay my fears for both of you."

Even more secrets! Tir'shan fumed to himself. Can I trust no one in this life!

Yet you have kept your share of secrets and doubts, Ri'sar'ri, so judge not, his conscience admonished, dousing his internal fire until he felt only the cool wave of embarrassment.

If Cori possessed more information, she did not reveal it. She rose, then bowed respectfully to the elder. "The dew dampens my robe."

"You are as sweet as the dew, and as deep as time, Cori," Sarad said. "Please stay a moment more."

The white tigress narrowed her eyes in puzzlement, but nodded.

The elder lightly squeezed Tir'shan's left wrist. He indicated the white tigress. "Stand by her side."

"Why?" Tir'shan asked with irritation, although he complied with the request.

"Mountain meets Sky, Tir'shan," he answered. The white tiger suddenly laughed. "Yes, he still incessantly asks 'why'," Sarad remarked casually to an unseen visitor.

"To whom do you--" Tir'shan's voice locked in disbelief as his mind received the last thoughts of the elder.

*Farewell, young ones, I cannot delay any longer.* Sarad, with a smile as radiant as the rising sun, turned into a shower of golden light that dissipated with the sound of a thousand tinkling bells. Flashing wildly, fireflies converged on the spot where the elder had passed into the great mystery of the Silence, until only the echoing quiet remained.

"That we would witness the attainment of the Light Body by one of our own is a great blessing," Tir'shan whispered, astounded that he had summoned his voice.

"I would rather Sarad had stayed! He always knew how--" With an anguished cry, Cori slipped smoothly to the ground, her hand covering her mouth to stifle her sobs.

Tir'shan knelt beside the white tigress. His face also became wet with tears as astonishment gave way to sadness. He drew her close to push away the touch of death. Her spicy fragrance tugged at desires he had imprisoned in his heart on the day Ayasha had left him. Their lips met without resistance. His heart opened, his struggle to keep it locked foiled by the curves of her voluptuous body and his own yearning for intimacy.

They became sweetly entwined, the promise of summer beckoning. The pulsing fireflies now floated above them, drawn to the deep violet light unexpectedly emanating from Cori. He matched her mystic power, then surpassed it, coloring his lover in shades of silver and gold until a river of rainbows swept them away. In the endless emptiness between thought and breath, they roared with pleasure under the starlight.

*****

Chirping, rising and falling in grand, exhilarated trills, brought Tir'shan to consciousness. A scrappy yellow bird eyed him with curiosity, then flew into the cover of the garden hedge when noticed. Dawn, the mystic thought with sleepy contentment, not wishing to move, but knowing he must. With the sunlight had come the harsh reality of duty and the admission of his actions. Yet, he seemed strangely untroubled by it all.

Sprawled across his broad chest, Cori still slept. Tir'shan lightly stroked her back until she stirred.

*Forgive me, Tir'shan.*

The touch of her mind was as delicate as a puff of air. He had granted himself the freedom Ayasha had requested for herself. *There is nothing to forgive, Ri'sar'ri.*

A ripple of relief sent a pulse of pleasure down his spine. For a moment, he allowed himself the possibility of another round of love with Cori, for his body was still hungry. Regard for the situation he had placed himself in kept his ardor in check. He gingerly ran his finger down Cori's nose. *We left the garden gate open,* he admonished. *Someone may get a surprise.*

Cori sat up and stretched, accentuating every full curve of her female form. "I am an abundant feast. And I can see that you agree," she retorted, ignoring his assessment of danger.

Tir'shan resolutely handed her robe back to the white tigress. Cori dissolved into giggles.

*****

The black ink flowed smoothly on the rice paper. Tir'shan set the last character in place with satisfaction, and a small measure of pride.

Summer night descends.

The garden envelopes me.

Fireflies dazzle.

The mystic sipped his cooling tea from a plain brown mug. The brief poem was a simple, but sincere gift to a friend. Rising from his chair, he placed his brush in a jar on the large desk. He padded across the room, the stones deliciously cool beneath his bare feet. Warm air perfumed with flowers seeped into the chamber from an open window. Shimmering waves of heat danced across the green plain. He had surrendered mystic robes for a light linen o'ba'ti. Almost noon, and no great calls for healing, he thought, taking a deep breath. A gift on a hot day.

Three taps sounded on the door. "Enter, Cori," he said, knowing her distinctive knock. Perhaps she would not notice the poem still drying on his desk. He hoped she would not insist on a meeting with the Li'am'ra to discuss his tiger dance. I will trust in the Goddess, and speak to Ryndi in my own time, Tir'shan decided.

The white tigress had also abandoned mystic robes, and instead wore a loose lavender gown splashed with bold swirls of green. She stared at him so intently that her eyes shifted wildly in color.

"What is wrong ?" he asked in alarm.

"I am free!" she declared.

"Free of what?" he asked, perplexed.

"Thank you for my future, Tir'shan."

The white tiger gasped. The pleasant release of mystic power during joining was not unusual, but amazingly, their act of love had done for Cori what the Li'am'ra's power could not do. Free of the ri'sar'ri's burden, she would now also enjoy a normal lifespan.

The glass wind chimes that hung from the window suddenly tinkled as if laughing at the absurdity of everything. A familiar voice crossed an unfathomable distance, and brushed his mind with the subtly of a butterfly wing. *Mountain meets Sky, Ri'sar'ri,* was all that Sarad said.