—Charles R. Saunders
Dedicated to: Milton, Vickie, Brandon and Alana Davis—My Sword-and-Soul Family
PART ONE
BEYOND THE STORM
CHAPTER ONE
The Shadow of a Ship
1
Suspended inside a transparent bubble of air beneath the surface of the harbor of Khambawe, Jewel City of what was once the Matile Mala Empire, Tiyana was visible only as a slender silhouette. On this, the day that marked the First Calling ceremony, Tiyana would serve as the Vessel of the Jagasti who was the Sea Goddess: Nama-kwah, the Dancer-on-the-Waves. Although Tiyana was the daughter of Jass Gebrem, the Leba, the One to Whom All Gods Spoke, at First Calling, her lofty lineage held little meaning compared to the distinction of being the one who would absorb Nama-kwah’s essence and, for only the most fleeting of moments, become the Goddess for those who witnessed the rites.
Even so, however, Tiyana knew she was nothing more than a substitute for the Jagasti she served. Centuries had passed since Nama-kwah herself had last answered First Calling, the ceremony that expressed the Matile people’s gratitude for the long rains that nourished lands parched by a harsh dry season. The rite had become a vestige of a time in the distant past when Nama-kwah and the other Jagasti were strong and the Matile Mala Empire ruled half of the sea-bounded continent of Abengoni, and dominated the remainder.
In those long-gone days, Nama-kwah had guided fleets of Matile ships across the wide sea-ways of the world to trade with lands far to the north and east, and in return brought goods-laden vessels from those lands to Matile Mala. Now, the harbor held only fishing boats and a small number of war galleys. The latter were maintained to guard against raids by marauders from the Shattered Isles, home of the Uloans, whose feud with the Matile mainland dated back to ancient times and was ultimately responsible for the downfall of both peoples, and for the withdrawal of the Jagasti to their unreachable Realms.
Strains of music from the docks that abutted the harbor filtered through the water to Tiyana’s ears. Drumming mimicked the rhythmic roll of the sea; fluting echoed the skirl of sea-birds; sweet singing Called to Nama-kwah without any need for words ... the singing reminded Tiyana of the story of how Etiya’s song had called the Jagasti to save the Matiles’ ancestors from the serpent, Adwe.
As she listened to the water-muffled music, Tiyana breathed slowly and shallowly, to conserve the limited amount of air allotted to her inside the bubble. Like her father, she possessed the power of ashuma, the once-potent sorcery practiced by the Vessels of the Jagasti. Her command of those skills did not match that of the Leba. However, her ashuma was sufficient to conjure the air-bubble and suspend it in the water until the time came for her to perform the final phase of First Calling.
Apprehensive thoughts crept into Tiyana’s mind as she gripped the Mask of Nama-kwah tightly in her hands. This would be only her third performance of the ritual. Even so, her previous Callings had been flawless.
Yet this time, something was wrong.
During her two earlier Callings, she had sensed Nama-kwah’s presence. She had felt the Goddess reaching to her from the beyond farthest depths of the sea, and heard her voice speaking within her mind. And when Tiyana placed the Mask over her head, she had become Nama-kwah, Dancer on the Waves, a transformation that imbued her with unmatched awe and joy for the brief time it lasted.
But this time she felt ... nothing. She heard ... nothing. And as she gazed through her bubble at the deep water surrounding her, she saw ... nothing.
At her other Callings, Nama-kwah’s Children – luminous fish of multifarious shapes, sizes and colors that appeared only during the ceremony – had surrounded her; another blessing from the Goddess. On this day, however, the waters were empty. Even the ordinary fish had vanished. It was as though Nama-kwah and her Children had decided to shun the Calling – and the Matile people as well.
Where are you, High One?
Tiyana asked that question in her thoughts time and again. But she received no reply from the goddess. And the longer the silence lasted, the more uncertain she became. The uncertainty grew as it fed upon itself.
So ominous was the portent that Tiyana was tempted to lift her bubble to the surface and beg her father to halt the ceremony. But that thought passed as quickly as it came. On this day, Jass Gebrem was far beyond being her father. He was the Leba, the highest religious authority in the land. Tiyana knew that a mere absence of fish in the water, Nama-kwah’s Children or otherwise, would be far from an adequate reason to ask him to end First Calling. But it would probably be sufficient to end her service as a Vessel.
Then the music and singing paused – a cue Tiyana quickly heeded, despite her misgivings. She fitted the Mask carefully over her head, then peered through its eye-slits. And, as she had feared, she felt no answering touch from the Goddess, even though Nama-kwah’s face overlaid her own in a perfect fit. She wore the Mask, but she was still only Tiyana, not the Nama-kwah/Tiyana she had been in the earlier Callings.
Tiyana had practiced ashuma many times without Nama-kwah, but she had never before performed First Calling in the Goddess’s absence. Now she would have to dance alone before the massed populace of the Jewel City, and others who had come from elsewhere to attend the ceremony ... alone before her fellow Amiyas ... alone before her father.
And she was afraid.
But she had no choice. If she were not to appear during the pause in the music ... she did not even want to think about the consequences of such a sacrilege.
Tiyana uncurled her body, stretching the air-bubble to its limit. Slowly, her ashuma lifted her toward the surface. Empty water swirled past her. Fears filled the
