Aun Shimauri's Instructions

Purchased from Aun Kerehanua in Palenqual's Cavern.



Aun Shimauri's Instructions

I place my Keh in your hands. I listen like the Forest. I know like the Mountain. I speak like the River. I place my Keh in your hands. I listen to the Truth. I speak the Truth. I place my Keh in your hands. Here are my words true.

***

Four nights ago, my dreamwalk led to the outskirts of a wood. Long limbed ikatans armored in bark strove greedily for the sky. Tens of tens of tens of the trees greeted me in every direction, and I could feel the hunger of many more tens of tens of tens

behind them. Splayed in every direction between the ikatans lay grass and root and flower, a lush and verdant skin which rippled with each wind's breath.

Although I strode confidently up to the edge of the forest, I felt an awe that bordered on fear. But in my dreamwalk I was helpless to stop myself as I shouted my name and arrival to the dark and hungry woods.

There was no echo as each word uttered from my mouth was seemingly snatched out of the air by the ikatans before they

even had time to breathe. The trees' higher branches twisted and bowed in my direction as if to partake of more delicacies that I might offer. I felt the urge to tell my Life Tale, as if I was before the Council and preparing myself the night before a Battle of Honor. But I knew there was no such Battle forthcoming. I knew I had many more greetings to offer the sun and the moon before I caught a glimpse of Wharu, and yet I could feel the words starting to pour from my lips, when I saw her.

A group of ikatans in the very center of the forest edge shimmered and glowed, and the

glow coalesced into a fair form before me. Tall she was, her ears wide and beautiful, and her tusks were magnificent and strong.

"I am Tanae," she began, and I thought my heart would burst with the sound of her loveliness. Her voice was a melody of gold that soothed my fear, each word hanging in the air like a summer cloud. But when she spoke, the branches of the ikatans stirred not at all. "Know that when the Tonk reverberated across the heavens, my eldest sister was there to hear it.

"Countless moons have passed since the first sound, and many of my elder sisters have since risen and fell.  But I am here, though none except my eldest sister has seen a world stranger.  I am here and I listen.  I hear the chattering winds, I hear the tonk as it builds the akiekie, I hear the Wharu come and go, a blight upon me and yours.  I hear all.  Whisper or shout, secret or tale, truth or lie, I hear.  But what shall I tell you?  Volkama is our speaker.  But when Palenqual demands, who is Tanae to say no?

"So listen, Aun Shimauri, listen to the truth of my words. My totem is loose in the world.  Find it amongst your misguided brethen.  Three boons have I laid upon it.  The skill of regeneration, for flame is an ever present danger for me and my sisters, and always will we grow back after the inferno. The skill of thorns, for we listen, yes, but we are not always passive.  I can be prickly, little one, so beware your travels in my domain.  The skill of precision, for nothing that I or my sisters do is left up to chance. To you the forest may seem a random collection of growth upon the skin of our blessed mother. But I know where

every tree is in my forest, every blade of grass and every flower. These are the boons I have made for you. These are the blessings for you to take.

"Go now, little Shimauri. Go and spread my word.  For others must do the listening now." And with this final burst of melody her body shimmered and glowed, and when the light was gone only the ikatans remained.

And then my dreamwalk took me to other places and I heard other words. Words about me and mine, and perhaps a word or

two of you and yours. But what happened there is not for your ears to hear, nor the ears of any, until the day you listen to my Life Tale.

***

Three nights ago, my dreamwalk led me to the base of a mountain. Immense the mountain was, full of stone and strength and hard, sharp, jutting teeth. It ascended far above the wispy clouds, and even the playful breezes,usually full of life and gossip, paid the proper respect to the mountain. Unlike the woods of the night

before, the mountain did not seem to hunger for my words or for any other thing. It merely sat there, large and solid, as if it had always been there and always would be.

This time I could not even muster the appearance of confidence as I slowly approached the high stone walls. But once again, I knew despite my fears that I must announce to the mountain that I was there. And so I did.

Unbidden by any conscious intent, I wondered, as I had wondered oft back

when I was still a childling, what the name of my Mother had been, before she had beome Puh. My father would never speak of her, and I long ago learned to stop asking. And then I knew. I knew her name. And I also knew why she had chosen my father over his brother, Telakanua, and how their continued rivalry forced her eventually onto the path that would lead her to be outcast from the tribe, never more to be seen or heard.

And I knew other things as well. I knew the four sacred names of the Sun and what had happened to the three names that had

been lost. I knew the answer to the Riddle of Kaleh, I knew why it had still not been solved. I knew how many people wished me direct harm and their names. I knew why the moon is round. I knew...

"Enough," a voice rumbled, and the knowledge pouring into my head ceased. I still knew all these blessed things, about myself and my people, all these wonderful and tragic things. But I found myself crumpled to the ground, knees bloody and torn from where they had dropped to the rock below, tears drying upon my face. I knew much, but the knowledge hurt. The

knowledge hurt very much.

I lifted my head, and there before me stood one of the people, but his skin was grey and hard like the rock. His eyes were flint, and he did not smile at me as Tanae had. When he spoke, the words came out like stone grating against stone, harsh and full of soft thunder.

"Audetaunga is what I am known as amongst your people." And with each word that he spoke, I knew the where and why of it. I saw the naming ceremony, and the dance and the song, and my heart

lifted with the sight of my people in a time before the Wharu had come. "And when the Tonk came into being on the First Day, my eldest brother was there to know that it had happened, and that it was good.

"The mountains endure, little one. They last far longer than my soft near-sisters and near-brothers.  And this is as it should be, as it was Spoken, for..." and almost did I know the truth of why this was, and almost I could conceive of a Life Tale being told, the Life Tale of the Creator itself. But I felt wetness pouring out of my ears and my eyes and my nose and when I wiped it

away with my hand, only then did I see my hand covered in my lifeblood.

"I am sorry, Aun Shimauri. I know almost all and yet I forget much.  There is knowledge that the People were not meant to know, truths and glimpses of truth that are too sturdy and sharp for your fragile selves.  Rarely do I speak, yet for all my knowledge still would I not deny Palenqual when she comes to me.  Know these words, then, know them to be true.

"My totem is placed onto the world, taken by those who know far too much and far

too little. Three powers have I given the totem knowledge of. He who wields my totem shall know strength, for one must be strong to hold all the knowledge of the earth and sky. He who wields my totem shall know defense against an enemy, for knowledge one's enemies allows one to avoid harmful strikes. He who wields my totem shall know speed against an enemy, for knowledge of one's tools allows one to be swift and sure in their use. These are the three knowings I have granted to the people. These are the three gifts from the mountain.

"Go now, little Shimauri. Go and spread my word.  For others must have the knowledge now." Unlike Tanae, he did not disappear, and so thinking my time here was done, I turned and began to walk away.

I had only reached a few steps when his voice rumbled in my ear once more. "For the second time I must apologize to you, Aun Shimauri. I am glad we do not spend more time together for if a Lesser earns three apologies from an Elder, then will that Lesser and Elder exchange places, and I am content to reside in my stone and knowing. You have learned things tonight

that you were not meant to know. You may not leave here with those particular gifts." And I could feel the knowledge leaving my head.  No longer did I know why the moon was round, and what the answer to Riddle of Kaleh would be.  But surely he would not take...

I screamed. My voice rose and rose and rose and it did not fall. I held nothing back. Let him hear my pain and anger, et him apologize to me one more time, and then I would be the mountain, and I would know the name again. I would never forget my mother's name. But after a time, my screams

fell to silence. I opened my eyes but Audetaunga was gone.

And though I did not wish to go, my dreamwalk took me to other places, and I knew other things. Things about me and mine, and perhaps a thing or two about you and yours. But what happened there is not for your head to know, nor the heads of any, until the day you know my Life Tale.

I would trade all of the knowledge I gained that night for the name of my mother.

***

Two nights ago, my dreamwalk led me to the banks of a river. Wide and sinuous it was, a blue sparkled serpent that flashed as it undulated from one end of the horizon to the other. At some places the river was peaceful and calm, its soft pulses chirping with the mischievous breezes overhead. At other places the river surged and sprinted, white rapids crashing into stony outcrops on the river floor. There were fish knifing up through the surface and splashing back down to the river depths, and large black birds that would occasionally follow the fish down and bring it back up as an unwilling guest to a

daytime meal. There were dragonflies and frogs and small sea-snakes, and along the banks of the river there were grasses and flowers and baby carenzi, and all of them chirping and squawking and burbling, one large symphony of wind and air, water and life.

I approached the river without cares, lulled to peace by its music and song. With a joy I had not felt for some time I added the sounds of my name and greeting to the ongoing melody. I could see my addition to the sounds and activity of the river swirl

around, tossed back forth between the breezes, then dropped down to a frothy blue tendril that splashed over and around my name. My name whirled up and spun, gaining speed, faster and faster, with the river water rising up and through it, until there was a vortex of water spinning, spinning, spinning.

And when it stopped, there stood before me a woman lithe and long. Her form was supple and showed strength, although she did not have the obvious beauty of Tanae. And there was a constant shimmer to her shape that made her uncomfortable to look

at for any length of time. Ribbons of her flesh would flow and loop in and around her and when the wind gusted she seemed like she might melt away. But when I closed my eyes the melody filled my ears, intense and personal, and I could have listened to it forever.

"Greetings and many welcomes I offer to you this day, Shim, the Aun Shimauri, beloved of my near-sister Wind and of Aun Nuahlauri and of the xuta Aun." Her voice was the melody and yet also separate. I could not tell whether the words came out of the melody, or sung in counterpart. Her

voice filled my head.

"I am Volkama, the River, and when the Tonk first sung the songs of creation and destruction, there my eldest sister was to whisper and shout the glories of its creation to all of its inhabitants. We all have our place, Aun Shimauri. Tanae sits and waits and hears all.  She passes on that knowledge to Audetaunga, our brother, who sifts through each word and story.  And most of what Tanae passes on he records for all time in his strong stone walls. And then he passes on to me the stories and tales that shall be sung from the

sky to the earth and to all who dwell in between.

"That is my role, young cousin, and I perform it well. And I could speak to you of many things, you could sit at my banks for tens of tens of years, entranced by my every word until you lay silent, a collection of bones.  But Palenqual has asked me to be brief. And though I am the Speaker for us all, when Palenqual speaks, so shall I listen.

"I have spoken my totem onto the world, now stolen by those who can nevermore speak true. Three whisperings have I shared

with my totem. I whispered the word of endurance, for long must I travel to touch the ears of all in this world. I whispered the word of speed, for fast must I travel to catch the ears of all in this world. I whispered the word of skill, for adept must I be to find those who do not wish to be found. From the beginning it was known that all must hear the words of the Speaker, and so have I Spoken, on countless other worlds than this.

"These are the three songs I have sung to the people. These are my words of power for you to hear. Go now, dear little

Shimauri. Go and spread my word. For other must speak these truths now." And with that the melody subsided to a whisper, and Volkama lost her form and softly flowed back into the river.  And then the melody was gone.

But I found myself speaking and singing when the melody ended. In this way I was able to keep an echo of the joy I had felt. And then my dreamwalk took me to other places, and there I sung other harmonies. Songs about me and mine, and perhaps a song or two about you and yours. But what happened there is not for your mouth to

sing, nor the mouths of any, until the day I tell my Life Tale.

***

Last night, before I gathered myself up for sleep, and perhaps another walk in the realm of stars, I thought about what I had seen and heard and said. I thought about beautiful Tanae, and how the branches of her ikatans sucked up hungrily each word that I spoke. I thought about stern Audetaunga, and the cruelty of not letting me keep my mother's name. I thought of the gracious Volkama, and what a life it must

be, forever flowing and sharing and spreading joy.

And then...and then I realized what was wrong. Imagine one day you woke up and saw the Sun. And the Sun was yellow. And you thought to yourself, "Yes, the Sun is yellow. It has always been yellow. This is as it should be." And you went on your way and performed all the tasks necessary for your xuta and yourself. But then some time passed, and the thought struck you, "But the Sun has never been yellow. It has always been red. But for some reason I did not remember that when I saw it this

morning. I just thought it had always been yellow." And you might have been angry at the Sun for playing tricks on you, although eventually you would realize that the Sun may do and go and turn colors as it wishes, and much the fool you would be to offer it challenge.

But three times I had been visited by the gods. And at no time did I seek them out, or when met did question their wishes. And three times they had played their tricks on me.

For long have I known the history of my

people, and the history of my gods. And here is the story that is passed on, from my father to me, and from his father to him, and on, from the very first days of Ezheret-Hazahtu and the first Tonk. And like any child would know, I know that Tanae is a man, and Volkama is the son of Mother Audetaunga. I knew this, and yet in my dreamwalk I knew no such thing. There Tanae was a beautiful woman and Audetaunga was the brother of Volkama, not her (or was it his?) mother. And I had never considered that there was anything wrong with this, although in the waking world I knew a completely different set of

truths.

I pondered this long, until the moons were high in the sky. I could not discern what had been true and what had been false. Never before these last three nights had I heard of Tanae as the Listener, and Audetaunga as the Knower, and Volkama as the Speaker. What was true? And as I went to sleep, I wondered which gods I would speak to tonight, and what mysteries would be resolved with the arrival of the Sun.

***

I did not know how long I had been walking. And although I came upon many a wood, and mountains, and rivers, I felt no need to approach any of them. I knew I needed more walking, and so walk I did.

And lost in the walk as I was, with the simple rhythmic pattern of foot after foot with the thumping of tail, the next time I looked up I found myself walking in the sky amongst the night lights. Below me was the whole of Palenqual in all her glory. A diamond of lush green, its blue rivulets interlaced amongst its grey stony cliffs. I stopped

walking and looked down at the beauty of Palenqual. Long did I stand there in the sky and look at the face of my land. We still talk about Ezheret-Hazahtu with the proper respect, but our children have known Palenqual as their only home. This is our home. The Hea have forgotten this. They look at this land as raiding grounds, as spoils of the battle. But it is our home. We will not be going back to Ezheret-Hazahtu.

I was filled with sadness then. Sadness and fear. I wondered, as I stood there high in the sky, if I would ever see my people

again. And I could see darkness creeping over my land, blacking out all the colors and life of my Palenqual. And the darkness did not stop there, but kept on crawling and seething in all directions, a black roiling flood that stretched from horizon to horizon. Blackness overcoming the world. Was this to be our fate? Did our destiny end here in the darkness?

How long? How long did we have?

"Not so very long." The voice reverberated around me. The blackness receded from below, slipping over the horizons.

Palenqual's face once more shone beneath me, except now her face was an actual face. She was smiling. And as I stared at that smiling face, a face I thought I could gaze at forever, it started to approach me. And as it did, I realized the face was attached to a head, the head to a body, and that body, that beautiful body, was walking towards me up through the sky.

"No, not so long, Aun Shimauri. The darkness will come soon, come and overcome much." It was hard to hear a voice so beautiful tell a tale so painful.

Why would this be so? How could she let it happen? Thoughts were rushing too fast in my head for me to be able to speak. She was still smiling. "But the people will survive, Little Shim. They will survive.  You have my promise on this.  The darkness will come, and we will be lost and saved and lost again in the darkness.  But we will survive.

"Four times now you have gone on the dreamwalk. For three of those last nights you have met my children.  And now, here, we meet, as I knew we would when I was but a small child of molten rock and

hissing steam. I knew that we would meet, and I knew what I would say.

"But sometimes the game changes. You did not know that, did you?  I have always known we would be here, and I knew my part to play.  But now here we are, and there are things we must discuss that have little to do with the ways ordained.  Remember that, Shimauri.  No matter how well you may think you know your part, sometimes the game changes.  But we will survive.

I had no idea what she referred to. Games? Parts to play? It made no sense. But her voice, her voice would stay with me forever.

"First, the totems. They were meant for Timaru, for those who stayed true. But the Hea xuta, they who chose the path of kah, have taken them from their rightful place. You know enough now to counsel those who can help you bring them back.  And do bring them back, Shimauri, for though they will not stop the darkness, we shall need all the power we can gather in these days before the end.

"And now, three final matters before I leave you, Aun Shimauri." How I wish I could relate to you what those three matters were! But as she told me, the game changes. The game changes and I must remain silent for now. But I will help to take back the totems of Tanae, Audetaunga, and Volkama. I will collect them and let the people, all the peoples of this world, use them. Oh my poor children. The darkness changes and the world comes. One day I shall know my mother's name.

-- Aun Shimauri