daughter. But for now…Father, Nahas…I must tell you. The Voca have learned how to keen in the daytime. I have seen it. Ephan, Lan, and Netophah as well! With our own eyes.”
The king’s face paled. “But…it is not possible.”
Psal relaxed now that the king’s anger seemed turned away.
“With my own eyes, Father,” Psal panted. “There have been some discrepancies in our charts. Towers being one place in the morning and then appearing in some other place later in the same day. And not only did our listening branches report this, but other clans as well. Yet none of our studiers dreamed it was a daytime keen. The Voca use so many disguising harmonies and.…”
“They’ve hidden their skill well.” Nahas paced the length of the room. “And yet! For the Voca to have such knowledge! Committed as they are to their superstition!”
“What superstition?”
Nahas shook his head as if shaking away a dream. “The Voca Queen dreams of finding the legendary Constant Tower.”
Psal tried unsuccessfully not to laugh. “She believes the old myth? And does she believe in Samat as well?”
The king laughed. “She probably thinks I am Samat. And the Wheel Clan the domain of all the evil dead. But the king of the Unfleshed Ones is not her particular concern. The Constant Tower is. Indeed, the Tower consumes all Ezbel’s thoughts. I pray she never finds it.”
“Why does she want to find it?”
“She believes that in the old days, before the clans were separated and developed their own beliefs, peace reigned.”
Psal shrugged. “The ruins tell a different story.”
“True, but Ezbel believes that with the help of the Constant Tower the night will no longer unmake us, and the clans will be reunited under one ruler.”
“Reuniting all Odunao’s clans is not likely, Father.”
“If likeliness mattered to Ezbel, she would not have discovered the daytime keen.”
True. “But that some three outcasts would find a Constant Tower and change the night? That is not likely, Father.” Psal knelt slowly and began gathering the parchments on the floor. Pain shot up his leg and back but he stifled his groans in the king’s presence.
“The myth mentions one outcast, a damaged one, a female.” The king said. “Ah yes, ah yes. You’re correct. Yes, in one Waymaker version of the prophecy, it is three. But in another,”—the king squinted, frowned—“it is a longhouse of lost ones.”
“And in the larger Grassrope Clans, it is one outcast, a Firstborn. Father, there are so many prophecies. If they are all true, we are faced with a Creator who is either confused or who delights in puzzles.”
“I have given up puzzling out the Creator,” Nahas quipped. “But Ezbel…well…she must be studied. A woman who believes the prophecy speaks of one who is outcast—”
Psal burst out laughing. “One like herself? Father, do not waste your thoughts on deluded women. There is no Constant Tower.” Then, proud to show himself wise to his father, he added, “True, some towers seem constant, but they are not. They move slightly. Instead of materializing across the planet or twenty leagues or one league away, they move perhaps a few paces to the right or left. They lack an adventurous spirit. Nor do any of them have the ability to keen all towers or to change the night.”
Nahas slapped Psal playfully on the arm. “It is strange to speak about such things with you, Firstborn. Ephan usually has to endure my ramblings. You must think me quite mad.”
“I like to hear you speak, Father,” Psal said. “And I already know you’re quite mad.”
“Have you told Dannal of the Voca discovery?”
“Not yet, Father. He’s making notations on the Dama seed.”
“Ah!” the king sighed. “Hopefully, it is one seed he will not smoke or chew. Well then! When he’s finished ‘making notations,’ tell him. The teaching masters and the other studiers throughout our clan must be told as well. You might as well tell King Renn. He obviously doesn’t know or he would have told us. Our clan has survived because we value knowledge, and our knowledge surpasses the knowledge of all other clans. If the Voca have discovered the daykeen, we can as well.”
“Father,” Psal said, “perhaps we could simply…ask the Voca.”
The king looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “And why would they tell us? They may be our allies, but they are not so stupid as to share their secret with us. And, if they did share the secret of the daytime keen with us, what might they require? Longhouses? Regions? Our first-born daughters? No, it is best if we discover the secret ourselves. And after we discover those secrets, we will keep our secrets to ourselves and we will owe no clan anything.”
“But, Father, the Wheel Clan has destroyed itself by being so secretive.” Psal kept his voice level, his tone calm. “Shouldn’t we learn to share our wisdom? Our people are so rule-bound, so careful, that we’ve lost all our humanity. Forbidding all but warriors to bear children. Is it a wonder Ezbel rebelled? And truly, our damaged women are better off with the Voca. If we and the Peacock Clan would share our knowledge, become one clan…we would not have to—”
“A studier’s dream, Psal. True, my father—and his father—were excessive in many ways.” The king drew a long breath. “But the Peacock Clans.…True, there are some aspects of tower science they could teach us, and some we could teach them. But they are not united. An alliance with Tsbosso’s clan would not prevent other scattered Peacock Clans from attacking our fields. In another generation, we will know all the Peacock Clans know and more. With our knowledge and theirs, we will then be able to increase our population and these harsh laws will be removed. But for now, if the Wheel Clan is to survive, it is necessary that our male children be born healthy.” Nahas walked into the passageway. “Now, philosophical debates aside, let us join our kinsmen in the gathering room. You and Ephan have returned from your travels with the Wintersea master. You’re one of us now. Don’t stand so far from your brothers.”
Psal followed Nahas to the door and into the gathering room. Near the hearth, young boys were listening to Donie, Dannal’s wife. She had indulged her passion for solitariness by staying in the longhouse rather than attending the two-day feast with the Peacock women. She and Ephan were now relating the lore and annals of both clans to the boys.
Ah, Psal thought, these people who are not my people. His heart felt strangely light. Being the mother of Tsbosso’s son-in-law was not a small thing; his ambitious mother would like that. Perhaps I will forget Cassia. Emboldened by hope, Psal smiled within himself and listened to Ephan.
“The Peacock Clans believe in a Creator who made the world from light and sound,” Ephan was saying. “But this Creator grew angry when we humans chose to do evil. He wanted to destroy us completely and to remake the world. But after thinking very deeply, he decided to allow the world and light to exist during the day, but at night he would unmake those humans who were not inside a shelter. In this way, humans would always know that they were in danger of being unmade. And perhaps, through this, they would learn to seek the One who would bring them to their Permanent Home.”
Ephan loved children; they loved him. The children liked Psal as well, but they called Ephan,
