19. Revelations

Lumin’s eyes lit up at the name. “Oquis!” he cried. “That’s it exactly! The Tapestries of Oquis.”

He looked eagerly into the faces of the others as if to gage their reaction. They stared uncomprehending back, waiting for his explanation. His smile faded and he sighed, muttering, “What do they teach in history classes in Pendelethe these days?,” under his breath.

Saka winked surreptitiously at the girls. “Well I cannot rely on my own memory for this tale.” Lumin grumbled. “I’ll have to check my history books. Hold on.”

He rose stiffly and hobbled towards the back part of the room that was obscured by the drape. He grasped the drape and pulled it back, revealing for an instant, a chunky wooden table creaking under several stacks of thick hardbound books, yellowed with age. Behind the table, high bookcases, filled with more ancient volumes, lined the wall. Then Lumin stepped into the makeshift study, and swept the drape across behind him. They waited for Lumin in silence. Tien snuggled into her soft deep cushion. She could hear the old man flipping pages and murmuring to himself. The curtain was drawn back again and he tottered out under the weight of two heavy tomes.

“I’m fine, “ he protested, pushing aside Saka’s helping hands. He settled back in his chair, resting the first book on the low table beside him. “Now give me a moment. This is the history of the Oquis, recording the eras before they came to Pendelethe. If I’m right, what you are looking for, should have been first documented about three hundred years ago.”

He took his time, thumbing through meticulously, peering over and sometimes, under his spectacles, to get a closer look. Finally his eyes brightened, and his pursed mouth wobbled triumphantly. He smoothed the pages before reading them carefully.

When he looked up, he beckoned them to gather round the manuscript, saying. “I think this is what you want.” He shuffled out of the way, searching their faces for a reaction as they slowly read: In the sixth year of Chief Alag, Fifth Heraldic ruler of the people of Oquis, the ambassador for Emir Roa of Zilem, paid a visit. He came to forge a pact with Oquis, promising that the Emir would protect their land from its enemies and help them prosper. To seal the pact the ambassador presented each of the four Oquis clans with a silken tapestry, whose pictures told a tale. When joined together, the pictures fitted together like a puzzle and the tale was complete. The Roan ambassador encouraged the clans to keep the tapestries joined together and to work in harmony with each other. Oquis looks forward to the next visit from Emir Roa’s envoy.

The next entry went on to document something that had nothing to do with the tapestries. They looked expectantly up at Lumin. That’s it, Tien thought in confusion? That is why the entire population of Aryk has been disassembled, and their property ransacked?

“They might be the right tapestries,” Fen ventured. “But the tapestries that the Raseen are looking for must be of great value. Would these be so special?”

“Yes, well now, this is the interesting bit. There is no more mention of the tapestries in the official Oquis chronicles. But the unofficial writings of any era, they are most illuminating, I always say.“ he chuckled. “And accurate.” A smile still lingered on his lips. He pushed his spectacles up and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “There was a young horse herder who documented, in rather a lot of detail, the history of Oquis. His writing was banned in the end. Too close to the bone, I imagine. But his diary was preserved, and I have it.”

He flipped through the smaller soft covered book, scrutinizing each page carefully and tediously. Tien wanted to yank the book out of his ponderous, trembling grasp, and flip through its pages herself. Instead she closed her eyes, and sighed.

”Ah yes, here we are.” He pushed the volume towards them at last, tapping at the place for them to start reading. The chair creaked as he rose stiffly and hobbled to his bookshelves behind the curtain again. With Saka peering over Fen and Tien’s shoulders, they began to read silently:
We wonder why our country is going to ruin? It should be no big mystery. Hello! Our impatience and greed may play some small part! We had the opportunity of a powerful ally and protector, the Emir of Zilem, in the days when my great grandmother was a girl. How do I know this? The art of storytelling is still alive in some clans of the Oquis, my friends. The best stories are the true ones, and my grandmother has faithfully passed on the history of Oquis to the next generation. In turn, I owe it to her memory to pass this unclear piece of our history on to you, to fill in the gaping holes in our annals, and correct any glossing over of the truth.
For reasons unknown, the Emir chose our struggling island to adopt, and invest his time and wealth into. How thrilled we were when he sent his ambassador to present us with the tapestries, as a gift. We sighed and exclaimed at its beauty and craftsmanship, as the ambassador showed us how we must always keep the four tapestries joined; with one at the top and the other three linked together underneath and hanging from one above. We were excited, and almost disbelieving when he told of their magical powers; that the silk worms that had provided the thread for the tapestries, had been raised only on leaves from the Tree of Good Things from the Emir’s own garden.
Each tapestry held a different gift. One was fruitfulness, one was beauty, one was knowledge, and one was confidence. We all swore that we could already feel the magic working. Then the emir’s ambassador returned home. The head of each clan took possession of one of the tapestries, and they have since remained separated. What you will not read in the annals of Oquis, what our esteemed scribes seem to have omitted, is the single stipulation from the Emir Roa concerning his gift. See, for magical things to work properly, they need to follow to the last letter, the directions for use. The tapestries’ magic would only work in the way the Emir planned; that is, only if they remained connected correctly, in the way the ambassador demonstrated to us all. And, the ambassador, informed us, the stipulation was, and here it is: If the tapestries were neglected, and not displayed in the way their magic was created for; after a time they would be drawn away, out of Oquis, each to a separate location to be protected by an guardian. And the only way they could be restored, was if a lone Oquit, carrying the Scrolls of Seasons, could successfully collect each tapestry from its guardian, and join them together as they should be.
Well, years passed, and our land prospered greatly. Occasionally, an ambassador from Zilem would pass through and enquire about the tapestries. But the subject was quickly changed, and the visitor would be hurried on their way. Gradually, the novelty of the tapestries wore off. The Oquis felt they needed fresh, innovative leadership, so they retired the aging chief who had served them well, and elected a king, in the manner of all the other lands around them. The king they chose said interesting things, wore the royal robes handsomely, and ruled with enthusiasm. (Far be it for me to gripe about these impressive credentials!)
In a relatively short period of time however, he made several foolish decisions on behalf of Oquis (one of them was to produce an heir who became the spitting image of himself). Three progressively dim halfwits succeeded him, and all this time, the people of Oquis were becoming more concerned with the individual ‘skill’ each clan had, rather than thinking as one unit. They forgot that it was the tapestry that had given them their enhanced skills. And inevitably the tapestries themselves were forgotten; they became shabby, and eventually they were bundled away and replaced.
Five years into the reign under Oquis’ fifth and very dictatorial king, the son of the emir, Prince Immo the Ageless, made an official visit to Oquis as a representative of his father. He reminded the people of their pact with his father; of the tapestries and that they should be joined together for the magic to work as it was planned. The Oquis were enraged at this reminder that their enhanced abilities were derived from the tapestries so, to placate them, king had the emperor’s son flogged publicly. His tears of pain were collected by the king as a trophy, a symbol of the weakness of Zilem and the virility of Oquis. Then the Prince was released. And now? The tapestries have been lost for years. We will never know what would have happened if they had been joined. It is a woeful tale of a woeful people.

Saka whistled under his breath. Tien sat still, her mind racing.

“So Phan knows about the tapestries.” Fen said slowly, as though she was creating a visual picture of the situation in her mind. “And if Wiggo knows about it, Thorasco may be the mastermind behind all of this, though how he fits into the puzzle I still cannot see. ”

Tien said nothing. There was too much information and new names for her to think properly. She really wanted to be able to sit down on her own and read the page aloud a few times, so it she could start to make sense of it.

“The tapestries must be somewhere near Aryk, if that is where he is looking.” Saka suggested.

“Not necessarily.” They stiffened. Lumin had returned silently and was settled back in his chair. He removed his spectacles, massaging the bridge of his nose, and continued as if he had been involved in the conversation all along. “This writing here is the original piece from the Oquis boy, and as far as I am aware there was no copy made of it. There is every chance Thorasco, and consequently Wiggo or Phan, may not know all that is documented here.”

“Which means there is a chance we could find them first!” Saka looked around eagerly at the others.

“Yes,” said the old man, “If you know where to look. Remember, if this record is to be believed the tapestries have left the Oquis, or Aryks as they are called today. Thorasco may not know that.”

“Right, and here….” Fen meandered her finger over the page, till she found what she was looking for. “Yes, here it is… I wonder if we could clarify a couple of things.” She hesitated for a time, her lips parted as if they were unable to form the words she wanted to say. Lumin waited patiently for her to continue. “This part about the lone Oquit, well… what does it mean exactly?” Fen said in a rush, tapping the paragraph with her finger.

This was the question that had entered Tien’s head, and chilled her flesh into goose bumps, as she had read the page. She already knew what the answer to that would be.

“Exactly what it says, I should imagine,” Lumin said dryly. “The Oquit lost the tapestries and only one of their own can begin to make amends by collecting them. It will be no mean feat either, by the sounds,” he said conversationally. ”Even if each tapestry is located, procuring them from their guardians will prove quite a task. But surely there will be no trouble in finding some Aryk worthy of this quest?”

Tien felt sick as Saka laughed weakly. “You’re looking at her,” he said, clapping a heavy hand on her shoulder. Lumin’s eyes bulged only slightly, and he recovered well.

“Well, I commend your courage, lass,” he said, in what he probably felt was a light-hearted tone. “Men twice your age would balk at the task that lies ahead of you.”

Tien opened her mouth to tell him that although she was the only Aryk available, she could not do this. She gasped as an elbow jarred her in the ribs. Saka sent her a warning look.

“Ahh, yes…thank you,” Tien managed. She rubbed her side and scowled at Saka.

Fen jumped in quickly. “The other unknown is this scroll. I mean, the three scrolls. What are they?”

Lumin leaned in close enough for Tien to count the pores on the knobbed tip of his nose. His skin was translucent and grooved like a crushed autumn leaf. But his eyes shone brightly with undisguised interest.

“We will be talking more of magic today, than has probably been discussed in Pendelewthe. Well at least since I have been alive to hear it,” he said, his face eager and alive. They sat, waiting for him to continue, for lack of a sensible response. “The scrolls of the seasons,” he continued, almost reverently. “Full of magic, not that any of the mob up at the library will admit it.” He indulged his scorn for a moment, raising rolling eyeballs heavenward. Then he returned to the subject at hand.
“They are three ancient parchments, their author unknown. They are titled Ago, This and What Will Be. As their titles suggest, they contain the history, the present and the future of the one that carries them: and to some extent those who are in close proximity to the carrier. Saka’s eyebrow arched disbelievingly, but Lumin did not appear to notice.

“Useful,” said Tien, her voice lilting doubtfully, so it came out like a question.

“Maybe, but I hope you never find out, lassie.” Lumin shook his head gloomily. There was a moment or two of silence, before Tien realized that the old man was waiting for them to press him for more information.

“Why is that?” she asked obediently. Satisfied in their interest, Lumin leaned in even closer.

“The scrolls are not to be opened unless permission is granted. The magic is too powerful and perilous, as anyone who does venture to read them soon discovers.” “Ok, slow down and go back a bit.”

Saka held up his hand. “You are telling us that these scrolls contain the written life story of the person that holds them, and a little of the same of those the person is near to? And that if someone else takes a turn of carrying the book, the previous writing disappears and now holds a whole new story? A story about its new handler?”

“Exactly.” The old man nodded. “But one can never read their future or anything else in any of the scrolls, without permission.” “You have been paying attention!”

“And who does one get permission from?” Saka did not bother to hide his amusement.

“If I knew, the author would no longer be unknown, would he?” Lumin looked at him pityingly. He turned back to Tien. She endured his inspection with increasing discomfort. “So,” he told her sternly, “keep them close to you and tell no-one of their power. You must resist the temptation to look at them. Have your companions help you with the temptation. Tell them when the longing to look nearly overcomes you,” he commanded. His stare boring into her, till she stammered, “Yes alright.”

“Well, we actually don’t even have them yet, and wouldn’t have a clue where to look. “ Fen looked at the old man hopefully, and he didn’t disappoint. “That’s easy. They are in the library, on display. His lip curled scornfully. “Those fools have them in a special glass cabinet. They haven’t a clue what they house in that feeble excuse for a centre of knowledge. You see,” he added in a more mellow tone. “There are only a handful of us left in Pendelethe who believe in the magical things.”

One look at the glazed expression on Saka’s face left no doubt in Tien’s mind of his feelings on magic.

Fen, however, seemed intrigued. “Well, before we can even begin to plan to get the tapestries, it sounds like we will need these scrolls. Would the library loan them to us, do you think? I mean, we could leave something of value in their place, as a guarantee of us returning them.” Even Saka glanced at Lumin to see his response to Fen’s idea.

Lumin scratched his head, and then smoothed his hair back carefully. He removed his spectacles again, and gently massaged the ruddy dented section of his nose that had supported their weight. With the corner of his tunic, he began to polish the already-gleaming discs of his spectacles in excruciatingly meticulous detail. The three companions watched his hands as though mesmerized.

They were all taken aback by the deep gurgle that began deep in Lumin’s throat. It bubbled out from his lips. A full-bodied peal of laughter, like a glass overflowing with cider. He laughed for a long time, and the sound of it climaxed to almost a howl, before petering out to wheezy giggles and sighs. He wiped his eyes as Tien, Fen, and Saka closed their gaping mouths. He replaced his glasses and looked at them with a sheepish grin. “I have an idea,” was all he said

© 2006 by Shelly Taylor