The Divining

     Veeda was from another tribe, he had said. Was she his bride?

     "I will find food," he said abruptly. "You must rest now. There," he added, pointing to folded rugs against the grassy wall. "You can make a bed. I will let you sleep. Do not fear. I have set traps, and I will be on the lookout."

     As he once again left the hut, and Ulrika suddenly found the prospect of sleep very inviting, it occurred to her that her abductor had not himself slept in a long time.

     He had sacrificed his own comfort and well-being to save this girl, she thought. He had risked getting caught by men who pursued him—and for whom he set deadly traps—in order to find medical help. Who was Veeda to him, and why was her survival so important?

23

ULRIKA DREAMED OF SEBASTIANUS.

     He stood on a vast, windswept landscape with a boiling ocean on one side, violent crags and tors on the other. He appeared to be building an altar of shells and fire. He wore only a loincloth, his tight muscles gleaming in the sun. Ulrika tried to call to him, but as she drew near, Sebastianus began to climb the altar, which had become a golden tower rising in tiers shot with blinding sunlight. He was trying to reach the stars, she knew, for he was seeking answers that could be found only in the celestial bodies of the cosmos.

     But Ulrika saw that the top of the tower was a raging bonfire—a dreadful conflagration that she knew would devour him once he reached it. She called out, frantic, desperate to stop him.

     You ca

     Ulrika snapped her eyes open. Her heart galloped, and a fine sweat covered her body. In the dim light of the camouflaged hut, she saw that the girlcontinued to sleep beneath soft deerskin blankets. Ulrika tuned her ears to the forest outside and heard heavy footsteps going to and fro. Her kidnapper, pacing.

     She thought of the dream she had just had. During her lonely days of journeying into Persia, Ulrika had continued her nightly ritual of speaking to Sebastianus. Every night before falling asleep, she would tenderly take the scallop shell between her hands, holding it safe and loved, and whisper words of hope and devotion to Sebastianus, closing her eyes to mentally send her message across the miles and days in the hope that they would reach him. She did so now, sending out a prayer that her beloved was alive and well and reaching his goal.

     At dusk the stranger brought fish that, though it must be eaten raw, was a welcome feast to Ulrika, who could not remember ever being this hungry. But first she checked on her patient and found with relief that Veeda's fever had already begun to abate, her breathing becoming more regular.

     As they quietly ate, with the stranger pausing now and again to listen to the deepening night, Ulrika asked him about the ivory horn that contained sacred ash. She had learned in her travels that encouraging someone to speak about their religious beliefs often broke down barriers.

     "Fire temples are our places of worship," he said as he picked at the fish flesh with his fingers. He had delicate hands, Ulrika thought. Feminine hands, and she adjusted her impression of him once more, from brutish mountain man to someone more refined.

     "We do not revere fire itself," he said in a low voice, glancing at the sleeping girl, "but rather the ritual purity that it symbolizes. Our faith was founded by the prophet Zoroaster in a fight against the image-cults brought to our land long ago by the Babylonians. We deplore imagery of any kind. We worship the open sky, ascending mounds to light our fires, so that Ahura Mazda, the Uncreated God, will see them. The prophet Zoroaster assured us that the Creator Ahura Mazda is all good, and no evil originates from Him. Good and evil are forever in conflict, and we humans must play a large part in that conflict, in making sure that evil never triumphs over good. We achieve this by living a life of good thoughts, good words, and good deeds. This keeps the chaos at bay."

     His words echoed those of Sebastianus, when he had told Ulrika that only through reading the gods' messages in the stars could chaos be averted.

     "Yours is an interesting faith," Ulrika commented as she lifted Veeda's wrist and counted the pulse, finding it normal.

     "It is the only faith," he said. Then he fell silent, and Ulrika wondered if he was curious about her. There was a constant tension within him, and she suspected it was not completely due to the fact that he was being pursued.

     She asked where he and Veeda were going, but instead of responding, he gathered up their fish bones and left the hut.

     As she listened to night descend over the forest, with mountain chill stealing into the hut, Ulrika wondered if she should try to escape. Would she get far? There were the deadly traps, and the pursuers. And she was not certain which way it was to the tavern. Besides, she no longer felt threatened by the young man, and Veeda still needed her help.

     The girl stirred and sighed beneath her blankets, and when Ulrika went to her side, Veeda opened her eyes and gazed at Ulrika with black irises framed by black lashes. "Who are you?" she asked.

     Slipping an arm beneath the girl's shoulders, Ulrika lifted her up to drink from the water skin. "I am Ulrika. Do not worry, Veeda, I am here to help you. How do you feel?"

     "I am all right, but my leg hurts."

     "We will take care of that."

     The girl looked around the hut. "Where is Iskander?"

     "He's just outside, keeping watch. So that's his name? Iskander? Is he your uncle? A cousin?"

     The girl shook her head. "He is from another tribe."

     "Where is he taking you?"

     "Away. To keep me safe."

     Ulrika's brows arched. "Safe from what?"

     "Evil men who wish to kill us. Please," a small hand reached for Ulrika's, "where is Iskander?"

     Ulrika paused to feel Veeda's forehead—she was a very pretty girl, and the fever only enhanced her natural beauty—then she said, "I will be right back."

     Ulrika found Iskander seated on a boulder, spear in hand. "She is awake."

     He was instantly inside the hut and at Veeda's side, looking anxiously into her face. "Are you feeling better?"

     "I woke up and you were gone. I was frightened."

     He stroked her damp hair. "I had to go for help. I hoped you would sleep until I returned. I did not mean to frighten you."

     Ulrika watched the scene in curiosity. Despite the tenderness between the two, there was a sense of formality also, as if they had not known each other for long.

     "Did Ulrika save my life?" Veeda asked.

     Iskander looked up and offered Ulrika a grateful smile that did indeed transform his face. "Yes," he said. "Ulrika saved your life."

     That evening, Veeda was able to sit up and eat a little food, and she asked Ulrika many questions about the world beyond their mountain realm. They slept after that, but when Ulrika awoke during the night, she found Iskander gone, and once again heard him pacing outside.

     The next day Iskander determined that they must resume their trek, although once again, despite her inquiries, he would not tell Ulrika where he and the girl were headed, or the identity of their pursuers. While Ulrika shouldered her own packs, Iskander took Veeda onto his back and carried her. She held onto him with her arms around his neck and they made a curious pair, for Veeda's dependence upon Iskander seemed like one of a child for a parent, while Iskander handled her with the sensitive formality of a stranger.