Quibble, 66. Djer

Restored to his former life as a Far, Nuah recounts how he met Vega and became a Zero.

66. Djer @Nuah

Aht lore tells of the boy who fell in love with night and wed Wahn-jahli-aht-qah-nefri, but the Aht also remember the man he became, Wahn-sah-aht-ri-nuah. He fell in love with many things. From the Aht-sah, he learned to love bravery. From his father in qah the ri, he learned what justice was among the Aht, to love it and care for it. And from his wife the jahli-qah, who taught him to write, he learned to love learning itself. These gifts lasted when he became Djer. They decided what sort of Djer he became.

The Aht were coming north in the spring of that year. Nuah rode ahead with a friend, Nufra-aht-sah-ilay, to scout the passages to the Sen-an-dah. The two sah reined their horses on a hill south of Ahnk-say-ur, the evil arc of stone where Far children die. Djer-stones were flashing atop the arc. The sah debated the right thing to do.

“The Djer may have captives,” argued Nuah. “We must try to rescue them!”

“We must tell the Aht-nah at once!” argued Ilay.

“You ride back to the Aht,” said Nuah, “and I will see what can be done.”

So the two friends parted ways. Ilay rode south. Nuah galloped through the ravine to Ahnk-say-ur. Coming in sight of the arc, he saw Djer and captive children standing on it. The Djer were performing a rite of some sort with their captives.

Each child was held fast from behind by a Djer who put to the child’s neck what Nuah thought must be a dagger. Other Djer faced the captives and held Djer-stones before their faces. The stones burned bright red. In the ravine, Nuah could do nothing, so he sought a way up, leading his horse into the hills to the west. At last, the terrain grew so steep that he had to leave the horse behind. He went onward afoot towards the top of the ahnk-say.

He reached it too late, though. The Djer and their captives were gone, save two Djer with a lone captive, a girl. They all stood at the edge of the arc. One Djer held the girl by the hand. Yellow light shone out from between their hands, and before her face the Djer held another shining red stone. Though not yet near them, Nuah drew his sword, cried out, and ran. Both the Djer faced him; their stones went dark. The one holding the girl clutched at something in her hand, released her, and said a word. Then his companion pressed his hand to the girl’s chest and shoved her off the arc’s edge.

Horrified, Nuah forgot all fear and sprinted recklessly at the two Djer. They put their hands in their cloaks, and just as he closed upon them and raised his sword, they vanished in a dazzling flash of light and a sound like a blacksmith’s strike on cold iron. Then he found himself on Ahnk-say-ur alone with no enemies to fight.

Nuah fell to his knees in great sadness and anger at his failure to save even one captive. Yet he did not yield to despair. The flight from the ahnk-say was surely deadly, but below it he had seen heaps of bodies and bones. If these heaps had cushioned a fall, he thought it possible the girl or perhaps other captives the Djer had pushed from the ahnk-say might live still. So he hurried down again into the ravine, meeting his horse on the way. But under Ahnk-say-ur, he came upon a surprising and mysterious sight. There, another Djer was moving from one corpse to the next, as if seeking something.

Nuah leapt from his horse. This time, he did not reach for his sword. Instead, he fitted a stone in his sling. Then he stealthily approached the Djer. When he was close, he began to spin the sling. Hearing its whir, the Djer turned to face him.

“Do you guard these ahnk?” the Djer said, speaking in the Far tongue. It was a woman’s voice. The Djer slowly raised her left hand and pulled back her hood. She was not much older than Nuah. The moonlight revealed a bald head but lovely features and, to Nuah’s greater surprise, sadness. The Djer’s cheeks were wet with tears, and she seemed unafraid of him.

The Djer’s demeanor so suprised Nuah that he nearly lost control of the sling. It thrummed the air so close to his left ear that he feared to brain himself and do the Djer’s work for her. So he let the sling coast in its circuit, though he kept it at the ready, and he said, “I will gladly kill you.”

“I believe you,” the woman said. “I saw what you did atop the arc. It was a brave attempt, but foolhardy. You do not know the nature of that with which you contend, or you would know I am not your enemy.”