Authors: Sherryl Jordan
“I'm not a seer, Lady.”
“But you know what dreams mean.”
“Only my own dreams. I know what my dream symbols are, and from those I can work out meaningsâsometimes. Not always. I can't promise I can help you.”
“I understand. Shall I begin?”
He nodded, and she took a deep breath. “This is my dream: I'm sitting in a room that is totally empty but for a pile of stones on the floor. Then I see a hand moving across the stones. It's not my
hand; it's someone else's. I don't see the person, only the hand. The hand sorts out the stones; some are precious jewels, but some, though they look like jewels, are only colored glass. I can't tell the difference, but I know that the hand can. The hand divides the stones into two piles, the jewels and the glass. Then a strong wind comes, and mixes up the stones again.
“A prince comes and sits down by the stones. He sorts them into two piles, then gets up and walks out. An old woman comes in, sees the two lots of stones, and goes out again weeping. She is very distressed. Suddenly the stones are mixed up again. A prophet comes in and sorts them into two piles, gets up, and goes out. The old woman comes in again, looks at the two piles of stones, and goes out weeping. The same thing happens a third time, only this time a madman comes in. He's dressed in rags, and dribbles everywhere and mutters to himself. He sorts out the stones, and when the old woman comes in, I think she'll go wild with despair. But this time, when she sees the two piles, she sings praises, and goes out dancing. I feel very surprised by her reaction. The stones remain in their two piles, and I know they are right. So what does it all mean, Gabriel?”
For a long while he stared at the floor, seeing nothing, his eyes almost closed. “It's to do with
evaluation,” he said at last. “The precious stones and the colored glass must be divided correctly. Your dream is to do with discernment, with knowing what is true and what is false.”
“Whose discernment? Mine? Do I have to make a decision?”
“No. It wasn't your hand dividing the stones. It was someone else's. Someone else is the judge. The wind signifies change. Wind always blows something away, brings in something new.”
A slow smile spread across the Empress's face. “Go on, Gabriel. You're making a great deal of sense, so far.”
He was silent for a while. The Empress waited, watching his face, seeing his eyes brilliant and fixed on something far away she could not see. He was very still, relaxed but intent, as if he were listening or trying hard to remember something.
“The prince and the prophet are similar,” he said. “They would both seem to be good valuers of the stones. But the old woman is Wisdom. She sees that they have made wrong judgments, and she grieves. Then the madman comes. He's the odd one out. He doesn't symbolize insanity; he symbolizes the one who is different, the unexpected one, the one you would not think would show the greatest discernment. But he's the one the old woman, who is Wisdom, is most pleased with.
He's the right one to divide the stones. I would say, Lady, that your dream means you are looking for someone with discernment, someone to decide between true and false. The right person is not the one you would logically choose.”
He took a deep breath and looked expectantly at the Empress. She was gazing at him with wonder.
“You have the Vision, Gabriel!” she cried.
He blushed deeply. “No, Your Majesty. I'm just very good at guessing.”
“You have the Vision. Your interpretation of my dream is more fitting than you know. You've just told me things about Navora, and about our politics, that no one else in this city knows yetâexcept me and my advisers and those scheming astrologers. I was right to call on you. I would have made a huge mistake if you hadn't come here tonight.”
Finishing his wine, he put the cup on the table nearby. A sudden sense of unease disturbed him. “Lady,” he said, “if you intend to take my interpretation seriously, to act on it, please first discuss it with Sheel Chandra, or Salverion. As I said, I've only interpreted my own dreams, at times when I've needed guidance or confirmation about important matters in my life. But your dreamsâthey help you rule an empire. They're
too important for me to interpret, without training or true understanding. Please promise that you won't act on what I've said, without discussing it with one of my masters.”
“I'm not accustomed to making such promises,” she said. “But your humbleness is refreshing, after the self-conceit of my usual advisers. I will take care, that I do promise you. Now, how can I thank you?”
“No thanks are necessary, Lady,” he said, inexpressibly relieved, almost euphoric. “My dream interpretations, like my healings, are free.”
“Not to me, Gabriel. Give me your hand.”
A few seconds he hesitated, then held it out. She removed a ring from her middle finger, and put it on him. The ring was small, and she tried it on him twice before it slid onto his little finger. He examined the ring and noticed that it was a snake forming the first letter of her name.
“Only ten people in the Empire have a ring like that, Gabriel,” she said. “It's my pledge-ring. You may use it once in your life, when you need my help. When you send me that ring with a request, whatever you ask I will do. That's my solemn pledge, and I swear it in the name of God. The pledge-promise is greater than all laws and transcends all other commands. But you may ask only one thing, and the pledge-ring will not be
returned to you. Use it wisely.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he said hoarsely. The Empress was silent, and he realized there was nothing more to be said. He stood and bowed low in front of her. “Is there anything else I may do for you, Your Majesty, before I go?” he asked.
“I haven't dismissed you yet.”
“I'm sorry, Your Majesty,” he stammered, his face scarlet.
“Your impropriety is forgiven. You may leave.”
“Thank you, Lady.” He bowed low again, not daring to meet her eyes, and began to back away. Panicking, he did not know if it was proper to turn his back on her as he walked out; so he walked backward several paces, then bowed again, and turned and went away. Outside the guarded doors of her suite Ferron was waiting for him, his face anxious.
“Is everything all right?” Ferron whispered, and Gabriel nodded. A slave met them and showed them out through the lamp-lit rooms and inner gardens to the courtyard. On their way out they passed a very tall, middle-aged man in long emerald robes richly embroidered in cerise with stars and mystical symbols. He was extremely handsome, with a cultured face and elegant bearing. He was so impressive that Gabriel stopped, and he and the man regarded each other for a few
moments. Then the man bowed low.
“You must be Gabriel, Salverion's disciple,” the man said in silky tones. He smiled, and his black eyes glittered. His skin was olive colored and flawless, his black beard carefully oiled into tiny ringlets. “Greetings. I am Jaganath, Spiritualist and High Oracle to Her Majesty.”
Gabriel too bowed. “Greetings, Lord Jaganath. It's an honor to meet you. I've heard of the great skills you have in prophecy and divination.”
“Though not great enough for Her Majesty at the moment, it seems,” said the Oracle softly, his smile fixed and too charming. “You'll put me out of business, Gabriel.”
“I don't think so, lord. My skills this evening were guesswork and good luck.”
“We shall see,” said Jaganath, and glided past.
“Well?” Ferron shouted, when they were on their horses and cantering through the city streets. “What happened? And what was Jaganath talking about, saying you'd put him out of business?”
“She wanted me to interpret a dream,” Gabriel said, laughing with the relief that rushed over him. “Oh, God! I feel as if I've been let out of prison!”
“What do you mean, you interpreted a dream for her? You're not a dream healer yet.”
“I'll explain it all later. While we're in the city,
can we visit my home? I'd love to see everyone again.”
“You don't need my permission, Gabriel. I'm only your keeper.”
But Salverion's face rose in Gabriel's mind, and he remembered the Master's anxiety. He sighed and urged Rebellion on toward the highway to the Citadel. The horse was in a rare mood for a gallop, so Gabriel and Ferron raced, leaving clouds of moonlit dust behind them on the road.
At the Citadel, though it was well past midnight, Gabriel knocked on Salverion's door. Immediately it was opened, and Salverion stood there fully dressed, and looking extremely anxious.
“She only wanted me to interpret a dream, Master,” said Gabriel, smiling, holding out his right hand. “She gave me a pledge-ring, see?”
Salverion was stunned. “You interpreted a dream for her?”
“I told her what I thought it meant. She and I talked about dreams before. I happened to mention that I know what mine mean. She thought I could help her find the meaning of hers. Which I did, I think.”
“Is she going to act on what you've told her?”
“I gather so, from what she said. But I did ask her to discuss my interpretation with you or Sheel
Chandra first. I warned her that I might be wrong, that interpretation is only a knack I have, to understand my own dreams.”
“It's not a knack, it's a gift. But you were wise to ask her to consult one of us. Your interpretation, if the Empress acts on it, could affect our Empire.”
“I know, Master. That's why I warned her.”
“The High Oracle, Jaganath, won't like this. He'll look on you as a threat, when he finds out.”
“He already knows. I met him as we were leaving. He was polite enough, like a python before it strikes.”
“You understand him, then. He's a dangerous enemy to make, Gabriel. He's her chief adviser, which makes him one of the most influential men in the Empire. His powers are formidable, and he uses them to manipulate people and events, and to further his own ambitions. Beware of him.”
“I'm a healer-priest, just beginning,” said Gabriel lightly. “I'm hardly likely to be a threat to the Empress's High Oracle.”
Salverion smiled, but his eyes, as he watched his disciple go, were deeply troubled.
“I hope you don't spend all your spare time studying, Gabriel,” said Salverion one evening as they were riding back to the Citadel. They rode
slowly, for it had been raining heavily that day, and the road was slippery with mud and yellow leaves. “I worry that you work too hard.”
“I don't,” Gabriel assured him. “Ferron sees to that. He drags me off to all the plays and poetry readings, and all the musical events, as well as the art and science exhibitions. I've never been so inspired in all my life.”
“I heard a musical event last night,” said Salverion, straight-faced. “It went on until dawn, was very noisy, and most of the singing was off-key and not at all inspiring.”
A slow blush spread upward over Gabriel's face. “We celebrated Ferron's birthday, Master,” he said. “Some friends came for dinner. I'm sorry we disturbed you.”
“You didn't. I've learned to sleep with my fingers in my ears. I forgot it was Ferron's birthday. I usually give him something. Talking of gifts . . . that's a rather splendid sapphire you have fixed to your cloak. From the Empress, for another dream wisely interpreted?”
“For another dream interpreted, anyway, Master. Whether I was right or not is yet to be seen.” He hesitated, frowning. “I hope she checks my interpretations with her advisers before she acts on them. I always ask her to test what I say and to have it confirmed by you or Sheel Chandra.
It worries me that she never does. I wish she wouldn't depend on me in this way.”
“You don't have a choice, since she demands your help in these matters. Obviously she trusts your opinion. And I must say I'd rather trust your interpretation of royal dreams than Jaganath's. He'd tell any tale to further his own ambitions. Have you seen him again?”
“Not to talk to. But the last time I saw the Empress, Jaganath was in the room. He was sitting in a far corner, just watching and listening. He never spoke and left before I did.”
They came to a rise in the road and stopped. Before them lay the Shinali lands, wreathed in mist. It was just on dusk, and in the orange skies a few stars were already out. Across the quiet evening came the bleating of sheep. Far out on the plain, from a shadowy place by the river, rose a thin column of pale smoke.
“Do you know much about the Shinali people?” asked Salverion.
“No, Master.”
“I couldn't help noticing, that first morning when you had your ritual wash in the holy pool, that you were wearing a Shinali amulet.”
Gabriel made no comment, but all his being grew tense. Salverion, watching him, saw that he struggled with painful emotions. “Do you want to
tell me about it, my son?” he asked, gently.
Gabriel shook his head. Salverion waited, and after a time Gabriel said, his voice broken and low, “It was the great wrong of my life.”
He said no more, but his eyes, fixed on the Shinali lands, were full of anguish.
“I too have done great wrongs,” said Salverion. “I've done things I regretted and left undone things I should have done. Both have caused unbearable guilt. But I've discovered, over the years, that sometimes we are given another chance, a way to right the wrong. Sometimes it's this atonement that shapes our destiny, redeems us, makes us the people we were born to become.”
Still Gabriel was silent, and Salverion followed his gaze to the Shinali plain. “You're not the first healer-priest to have a bond with the Shinali,” he went on, still with gentleness. “Amael, our Master of Herbal Medicines, visited them once to exchange knowledge with their healer. They're a gentle and spiritual people, the Shinali. They're sheep farmers and hunters, though they were formidable warriors when they were called to be. They fought hard to keep that plain, and it remains the only part of their vast homeland that we didn't take. The treaty guaranteed them the plain forever, but already the Navoran authorities want part of it. It's flat, fertile, andâaccording to
the authoritiesâmostly unused. I hear talk in some of the houses I visit, and it worries me. There will be conflict again. Destiny hasn't yet finished with the Shinali; there's a chapter in their history yet unwritten. And in ours.”