(2023)
Solur ni atti yoma qa i serissi, yahar ni imna khaliqy nai "To one who eats only solu fruit, good grass tastes bitter" – Yoma saying
Over the timecycles, many of our brethren have sought a perfect world. Only one I met once who might have found it. By his request I will not write his name; I hope he'll be happier in shadow. I had to pass through many worlds, speak to many explorers, and consult many archives before I could track him down. He was merely an oneirobat apprentice, who had been sent by his master, now dead by old age, to look for a world that had not Fallen.
I was very surprised, when I finally talked to his former fellow apprentices, to discover he lived in Meru, crossroads of all the worlds, where despotism and cruelty and duplicity are so abundant, when he could have lived in a land of earnestness and love. Nevertheless, I burnt a little offer to Merikash in thanks and set out to meet him.
I found him living in a hovel on a sparsely-built slope of the Mount, surrounded by vegetable gardens and fungaria in which he grew all his food. He trode carefully lest he crush an insect underfood, in the manner of Gymnosophists. It appeared as if he was doing penance for a terrible crime.
He was very reluctant to speak, at first. Only when I showed him my sigil of oneirobat master, and reminded him of his vows, he relented, and even then it took many glasses of Sona-Nyl wine to thaw his courage. I was permitted to record our talk. He drew a deep, wavering breath, and spoke.
***
"Six years ago, in my personal timeline. I found the door almost by chance, in one of the many directions my teacher had given me to explore, and spoke the words – if you would, master, do not make me repeat them. It was a world of such exquisite beauty, all natural at least by appearance. There were beautiful lakes of pure water, and beautiful cliffs with streaks of candid marble flanking them like protective walls, and everywhere were shady pine groves, and other trees that have no name in this world, but there are called solu, and the taste of their fruit fills the brain with ecstatic warmth–" He did not smile as he recounted these things, and I noticed he flinched at the word "beauty".
"Soon after I met the beings who live there; yomar they call themselves. Many millions, I think, but only a couple hundreds in a village. They are like elephant calves, reaching barely to my hip, with a trunk that divides into hand-like appendages. With those they build hut out of branches, weave dresses out of reeds and grass, pluck the solu and other fruits, and caress each other's forehead and rump. Their coat is streaked with earthy colors, and the pattern of those streaks gives each yoma a name, and a calling. For each, it seems, is called at birth to do something useful, and that they accomplish with perfect joy.
"They recoiled from me at first, but with some caution they led me, hand in trunk, to a guest-house in their village. They gave me grain and a kind of milk that they squeeze from the sides of a beast like a great caterpillar. I tasted solu as well, and it was delicious as I said; but soon after I was violently ill, and stayed feverish for two days. I would learn that solu is poisonous to all creatures save the yomar themselves, and eating of it makes their flesh poisonous in turn, so that no predator ever molests them.
"I suppose they took pity on me. Through my illness they were prompt and cheerful; I recall a gesture of the trunk that was like a smile. They brought me milk, and sponges to bathe. In the meantime I learned their language, which is soft and fluttering. When I could walk again, I visited their village. It was one of many hundreds, they said, with a great capital city built on the mountains for the queen of all yomar, whom they worshipped as a divine being.
"Since I was by far the tallest, I was asked to pluck fruit from upper branches, and assist with thatching roofs. They painted a sort of circular rune on my forehead, signifying my function. They gave me a name in their language, naasha, based on the swirl of that rune. Everyone performs a special function in the village, you see; and no yoma ever murmurs against having to plough the fields while another mixes sweet drinks. As the sun sets, they go and look at each other's work for the day, taking great pleasure in giving and receiving praise. One every few days they consecrate to common games and contest of skill; they're especially fond of play-wrestling and confectionery.
"Since there was little machinery, perforce most yomar had to work in gathering food; their land was rich, although not so far as to strain belief. I was but one of many fruit gatherers – I saw no hunting or butchering, though they strain a sort of jellyfish from the rivers – and we would make it a game, or even something more serious, of filling our baskets with the most and the most beautiful fruit. The ablest gatherers, and I could count myself one, would bask in compliments before emptying their basket into the granary for common use.
"One morning I saw one able gatherer leave her basket unattended on a crowded path as she went to a stream to wash her trunk-hands. Upon her return I said: are you not afraid someone will take your harvest, perhaps pretend they had collected it themselves? At that they all averted their eyes, and sent home the calves. For the rest of the day all would only spoke to me if I called them, and even then, coldly. I spent it alone, studying the woods, and the next morning I found they had returned to their usual cheer.
"It occurred again and again. Once I asked an elder, withdrawing for the night, why they would not lock their door. He asked what could possibly be the point of that. I pointed out someone might injure him or take his belongings, and for all response he looked at me with the same angle of trunks with which one would look at a rotten carrion. Once I idly asked whether the flesh of the cattlepillars was consumed along with their milk; I was never permitted to tend to them again.
"I found that over the weeks the yomar were colder and less cheerful when they worked beside me, and usually chose to work elsewhere. Calves I rarely saw and never spoke to. Only one, a young yoma named Nila, with a coat the color of sunlight cutting through dark clouds, followed me for a while. She asked of my world, which I dared not describe in full, though I spoke of things light and harmless, and hesitated to tell more. I must have been frightened and lost, so far from home, she said. I answered her questions as delicately as I could, but this only led her to share my fate: we would work alone, with a fence of cold silence all around us.
"I resolved to speak as little as possible, even with her. But shame and frustration gnawed at me; I was less careful when gathered, I trampled bushes and snapped branches. That seemed to frighten the others, who became sullen and quiet even with each other; and soon none but Nila dared talk to me at all.
***
"Once, she, who had been called last to the granary for the third day in a row – last before me, that is – called me out of the guest-house. She told me in words sweet and delicate that she still had the highest hopes for me, but that my uncouthness hurt her as fiercely as it surely hurt myself, and begged me to give it up at last. I could not understand what were, precisely, the faults they found in me, though I knew there were many; and as she insisted I must know already, and not to mock her with feigned ignorance, I said that the yomar should just do what they clearly wished, pick up stones and drive me out of their merry village forever, like a foul beast. Nila staggered back as from a blow, mouthing words she could not voice.
"I had said a dreadful thing. I tried to explain myself with crescent desperation; but my own words were ugly and misshapen when they left my lips. Eventually Nila shouted at me, be quiet!
"A crowd had gathered around us, and watched us with horror and grief. After a long silence, in which Nila wept and I looked around in bewilderment, an elder stepped forward and said gravely that we must go speak to the queen, for nobody else could make us clean again.
"We set walking, the two of us and a couple witnesses, to their great city, built on a cloud-capped mountain. We met their queen, simply by asking – no guards! no doors! – A creature candid white, with a thin filigree of golden markings all over her spelling out unutterable mantras, sitting on a throne that appeared grown from a single crystal of cinnabar. From a palace of gilded wood she ruled all the known yomar, with the help of some faculties that, in my understanding, were hers alone. She could gaze into the thoughts and passions of the living, and direct the cycles of the world to assure the bounty of harvests, playing the patterns of clouds and rains with her trunk as a harp. She kept the peace, I was told, and judged their disputes.
"At last! I crowed within, Tell me of the arts of terror that force your subjects into such perfect compliance; show me the fear that must always press their hearts. What is your first weapon, when you sense disloyalty? Do you lock the clouds and starve a whole town, until they bring you the traitor's head on a platter? I was to be... disappointed. Their threats to peace, in truth, were little spats between friends. An insensitive remark, a... neglected invitation, a poor allocation of gifts. The queen decided who was in the wrong and ask them to apologize. Sweetly the first time, sternly the second; a third was not needed.
"She listened to our stories and sentenced us both to a certain number of kind actions within the next ten days. Until then, we'd be left free. Nila went her own way outside. I looked for the palace's library, hoping they would count re-shelving books as sufficiently kind, though in fact I was there for my own purposes first.
"I scoured their histories in search of some terrible secret, of some wretched evil hiding under their colors and smiles. There must be precedent for me. I searched for the most loathsome character in their memory. Do you know what I found? A city councilor who had helped a friend cheat in a culinary contest, and had to be asked five times before apologizing. That is it. That's the worst their species had to offer. That was their arch-criminal, whose name yomar use as an insult in their rare moments of anger. Ha ha!" A grin stretched the speaker's mouth, without reaching his eyes.
"I stumbled out of the palace, blinking in the sunlight. The bright blue sky was an accusation, a judgment – she kept it bright and blue, didn't She? I wished it turned to storm; I wished for hail and thunder, for the ground to dry and for vermin to strip the treetops bare; I stumbled on the cobbled road, put together by someone who found perfect joy in cutting rock. I kicked at the stones, which would not yield. Surely the stonemason had never felt the boredom and frustration I felt when my master set me to copying starcharts.
"I brooded my way through the city, and the yomar there, who didn't know what sort of beast I was, looked at me with curiosity. When I grew hungry, I would walk into a house, offer to help with preparing food, most of which they always gave me. But there was something sour in their faces when I left; I did not dare stay in one place for long.
"I saw freshly painted jewels drying in the sun, and thought: Why has none been stolen? I saw the queen's ministers walk unguarded through a marketplace, and thought: What if someone kills them? Day after day these thoughts horrified me more and more, and yet they came ever more frequent, until finally I could hardly look at a yoma without thinking: It would be so easy to kill it. It would, you know? You could wring their necks without the least effort. And they all knew my thoughts. I made them ill, I was... a stain, in that world. Merely existing, as a human, in that place, it's... like being a disease, a..."
His face twitched, and he buried it in his hands. He wept quietly for several seconds, and I took the chance to refill his glass. He asked me for a measure of red spice as well, to stop his trembling. I told him that a master oneirobat must never carry such poisons, and then gave him a full thimble of it.
"I think it was the way I looked around that made people wary; I dragged behind a cloak of guilt. The yomar were colder and less generous in my presence. I was offered help less and less frequently, though there were so many piles of sweets and dairy I could have raided; so many houses I could have taken by force. I wished to step out of the cruel, ugly beast I was forced to inhabit, and beat it with a rod, and leave it bleeding and weeping in the street, going my way, finally free; but I don't recall those days as much as the nights. Every night, as I lay under a porch, I dreamed horrendous things. I dreamed of blood and fire, of storming that doorless palace and making myself emperor, of seizing the queen by her throat and rub her face into the horrors of our world, of burning down the library and the granary and and the guest-house and– and of finding Nila again and–"
His face was the color of moonstone, and his eyes stared far behind me. I placed a hand on his arm; he briefly recoiled, but then accepted it. "You did not, though", I said; "It sounds like Ahriman could not tempt a soul to evil more deviously, and yet you held fast". I feared I was about to be told otherwise, but he swallowed and nodded. "One could argue", I continued with greater conviction, "that you showed more virtue in resisting evil thoughts than a being to whom such thoughts never occurred at all".
He made several deep breaths, looking down at our table. "I did find Nila again, eventually. She was at peace, cured of her ills, having done all the acts of kidness required to mend her soul, and many more. But as she told me this, and I did not rejoice quite as purely as her kind would have, I tasted a shade of bitterness creeping back in her voice. She knew I had not been purged as her. I think I broke her in a way, and while the cracks were cemented they were not gone. I decided then that I would rather gnaw off my own hands than be once again a reason of shame for her. I complimented Nila on her redemption, and then begged her to lead me back to the village, so that I might return to my own world.
"We travelled back, both relieved in our different ways. We chatted as amicably as we could, and rested to soak our feet in torrent water or to enjoy the breeze of pine groves. They were... serene days, after all. Away from the city, my damnable thoughts came less often; and Nila's eyes were brighter. I even thought myself on the way to redemption. But whenever I thought of staying, I... No, I could only find peace in the idea that they would soon be free.
"And that was it. We entered the village; I gave my final apology and my final thanks; the elders told me they were honored of having met a traveller between worlds, after all; they gave me some crafted gifts, which you see on that little table; Nila brushed her trunk against my face, as is their custom when people part ways; and I stepped back into the common world."
***
"You found me in a brutish place. Yet this brutishness is as a balm for me. Here, even picking up broken pots from the streets is an act of great kindness, and sharing a bowl of lentils can wash away many sins. Here, I can be a help, and not a blight; a salve, and not a poison. In that, I suppose I cannot call myself too unfortunate; the One preserve me, If I'd given in to the temptation to stay. I have not come back; and I'd ask you not to force me break my apprentice vows, master, for if you ask me the way to that place I will not tell."
"For their protection?" I replied, "I can't disagree. One less steadfast than you could do unthinkable damage to that world of innocence".
He gave a wan smile. "Their protection? I suppose. They may not need it. If they already endured free in that state for thousands of generations, as their archives showed, I doubt Sargon himself could end it. Protection they may already have; I don't know what god or djinn fashioned that world, or hides under the pelt of that queen, but it's not one humans have ever sacrificed to." He emptied his last glass, rose from the table, and gently accompanied me to the door. "But me? Us? Every day there will gnaw at your soul – yours too, master – like worms through rotten wood, and you too would fray, and splinter, until your own existence is an unbearable weight. Put me to torture, if you will – will you? You are not a yoma, so the thought at least must have occurred to you – but I shall not say how to reach that vale. I have already done you enough evil telling you it exists at all. For your peace of mind write that I'm drunken and raving, that life in this hive of cruelty has broken me into dreaming of an impossible place. You would have to lie now, but awakening tomorrow you will not know the difference; for I would not be the first, or the billionth, to dream so".
I considered it, when travelling back to my offices. But I am a lesser master of the sub-guild of Charters, who record all that is witnessed of the farthest and least known reaches of the manifold cosmos; on these matters I do not lie. As a compromise, I seal these papers and consign them to a deep basement of my chapterhouse, where they are unlikely to be found within my lifetime. May the yomar keep dwelling merry and free in their unfallen world, and we find rest and consolation in the ones we're given; and may Merikash, who is sovereign of all that we deem kind and fair, have mercy on me and on that unhappy traveller.