The Outcast

2

The courtyard echoed with the cracking of wooden practice swords as Sorak and Tamura moved back and forth in the intricate choreography of combat. Sorak was less than half Tamura’s age, and despite having just gone through an intense workout, he was still possessed by the energy of youth. However, Tamura was by no means at a disadvantage. She was the head weapons instructor at the convent for one reason only—she was the best.

At the age of forty-three, Tamura’s physical condition was superior to that of most women half her age, and her reactions were as quick as ever. She fought in a light robe to protect her pale skin from the sun, her blond hair tied back loosely behind her neck. Sorak, having already worked up a sweat during the training session, fought bare-chested, his darker skin far less vulnerable to the sun’s rays. His black hair hung loose past his shoulders and his lean muscles stood out sharply, defined by the glistening sweat. Ryana felt excited as she watched him.

For years, she had looked upon him as a brother, though they were not related by blood and were not even of the same race. Recently, however, Ryana had become aware of a dramatic change in her feelings toward Sorak. These feelings had come upon her gradually, so there had never been a moment when she found herself shocked to suddenly discover that she wanted him. There had been time for her to analyze these feelings and to become accustomed to them, though it was something she and Sorak had never actually discussed. Still, she knew he must be aware of how she felt. They were too close for him not to know. Yet, he had never said or done anything to indicate to her that he felt the same way.

The others all knew, Ryana was certain of that. Everybody knew. It was something she simply could not hide, nor did she wish to hide it. She told herself that there was nothing wrong in what she felt. With only rare exceptions, villichi priestesses were celibate, but that was not as a result of any rule, it was simply their choice. She felt sure her love for Sorak did not violate any taboos at the convent. Nevertheless, there were those among her sisters who sought to discourage it.

“You are treading on dangerous ground, Ryana,” Saleen had told her while they were working at their looms. Saleen was older, almost twenty-two, and saw Ryana watch as Sorak walked past their window. He was on his way to see the high mistress and had Tigra trotting along at his heels. “What do you mean?” Ryana replied. “Sorak,” said Saleen. She smiled. “I have seen the way you look at him. Everyone has seen.”

“What of it?” asked Ryana, in a challenging tone. “Are you saying it is wrong?”

“Perhaps not,” Saleen had replied gently, “that is not for me to say, but I think it is unwise.”

“Why? Because he is an elfling and a tribe of one?” Ryana had said. “That makes no difference to me.”

“Yes, but it may make a difference to him,” replied Saleen. “You are closer to Sorak than any of the rest of us, but your very closeness may be preventing you from seeing what the rest of us have seen only too dearly.”

“And what would that be?” she asked defensively.

“You look upon Sorak as a woman looks upon a man she loves,” Saleen said. “Sorak looks upon you as a brother looks upon a sister.”

“But he is not my brother,” Ryana protested.

“That makes little difference if he merely looks upon you as a sister,” said Saleen. “Besides, you know that loving Sorak could never be the same as loving any other male. I do not pretend to be wise in the ways of the world, Ryana, but from all that I have heard, it is often difficult enough for just two people to find love together. With Sorak, there are more than two people involved.”

“I am well aware of that,” Ryana said sharply. “I am not a fool.”

“No,” Saleen said. “No one is saying that. Nor am I suggesting that you do not know what is involved. His other aspects speak through him only to you and the high mistress. The rest of us have never been so favored. But that is still no indication that all of Sorak’s inner aspects can feel love for you. It is not enough for you to love all of Sorak. All of Sorak must also love you. And even if they could, where would it lead? Where could it lead? Villichi do not marry. We do not take mates.”

“I am aware of no rule that forbids it,” said Ryana.

“Have you forgotten your vows? ‘...to devote my heart and soul completely to the sisterhood, to devote my energies to the teaching of the disciplines we all hold true, to seek out others like myself and grant them aid and shelter, to cleave to one another above all personal desires and material comfort.’ Those are the vows you took, Ryana.”

“But there is nothing there forbidding marriage or the taking of a mate,” Ryana said.

“Perhaps that is your interpretation,” said Saleen, “but I doubt the high mistress would agree with it. Remember, also, that Sorak was never asked to take those vows, because he is not villichi. And he is no longer a child. He is almost a grown man. Our life is here, at the convent, with our sisters. Sorak is a male—part elf, part halfling. Elves are true nomads and halflings somewhat so. It is in their blood, in his blood. Do you truly believe that Sorak could be happy to remain here the rest of his days? If he should choose to leave, Ryana, there is nothing to prevent him. But you have taken vows.”

Ryana felt a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. “He has never said anything about leaving the convent. He has never even indicated the slightest wish to leave.”

“Perhaps because the time was not yet right,” Saleen said. “Or perhaps because, knowing how you feel, it is a subject he has purposely avoided. He came to us half dead, weak in body and in spirit. Now he is strong in both, and vibrantly alive. He does not need the convent anymore, Ryana. He has outgrown us, and you are the only one who cannot or will not see it. Sooner or later, he must leave to find his own way in the world. What will you do then?”

Ryana did not know what she would do. The possibility of Sorak’s leaving the convent was something she had never even considered, perhaps because, as Saleen suggested, she had been afraid to consider it. She had assumed that she and Sorak would always be together. But what if Saleen was right? The thought of losing him was more than she could bear. Ever since that conversation with Saleen, the uncertainty had been gnawing away at her. Nor was Saleen the only one who had sought to caution her in that regard.

At first, she had tried to tell herself that the others were merely jealous, or that they were somehow threatened by the prospect that she and Sorak might become lovers, but she could not deceive herself that way. She knew her sisters cared for her, just as they cared for Sorak, and had only her best interests at heart. But what did Sorak feel?

Outwardly, nothing in their relationship had changed. She had given him every opportunity to reveal if he felt the same way she did, yet he seemed not to notice her attempts to steer their relationship in a new, more intimate direction. Perhaps, thought Ryana, I have been too subtle. Males, she had been told, were not very perceptive. However, that did not seem to apply to Sorak. He was unusually perceptive, and possessed of a strong intuitive sense. Perhaps, she thought, he has merely been waiting for me to make the first move, to openly declare myself. On the other hand, what if he did not share her feelings? Either way, she could stand the uncertainty no longer. One way or the other, she simply had to know.

“Enough!” cried Tamura, raising her hand and lowering her wooden sword. Both she and Sorak were breathing heavily from their exertions. Neither had managed to score a telling blow. Tamura grinned. “I knew this day would come,” she said. “We are evenly matched. There is no more I can teach you.”

“I find that difficult to believe, Sister,” replied Sorak. “You have always beaten me before. I was merely lucky today.”

Tamura shook her head. “No, Sorak, the past few times we have tried each other’s measure, it was I who have been lucky. I have held nothing back, and you have taken the best that I could give. The pupil has now become the master. You have made me very proud.”

Sorak bowed his head. “That is high praise, indeed, coming from you, Sister Tamura. I am not worthy.”

“Yes, you are,” Tamura said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“For a teacher, there can be no greater satisfaction than to see a pupil surpass her.”

“But I have not surpassed you, Sister,” Sorak protested. “The match was, at best, a draw.”

“Only because I stopped it when I did,” she said with a smile. “I remember all the nasty whacks I gave you while you were still learning, and I did not wish to be repaid in kind!”

The others laughed. They had all felt the sharp crack of Tamura’s wooden sword on more than one occasion, and the thought of her receiving some of her own medicine was tantalizing.

“The lesson is finished for the day,” Tamura said. “You are all free to go bathe.”

The other pupils whooped and ran to put away their practice swords before they raced down to the shaded pool. Only Ryana lingered, to wait for Sorak.

“You two are the best pupils I have ever had,” Tamura said to them. “Either one of you could take over the training of the others now.”

“You are too kind, Sister,” said Ryana. “And Sorak is still the better fighter.”

“Yes, but not by much,” agreed Tamura. “He has a special gift. The sword becomes a part of him. He was born to the blade.”

“You did not seem to think so when I began to study with you,” Sorak said with a grin.

“No, I saw it even then,” Tamura said. “That is why I was so much harder on you than on any of the others. You thought it was because you were a male, but it was because I wanted to bring out your full potential. As for you, little sister,” she added, turning to Ryana and smiling, “I have always known that you resented me because you thought I was being unfair to Sorak. That is why, for all these years, you have worked twice as hard as any of the others. I know you wanted to repay me for all of Sorak’s bruises, and for your own, as well.”

Ryana blushed. “It is true, I must confess. There were times I almost hated you. But I feel that way no longer,” she quickly added.

“And a good thing, too,” Tamura said, reaching out to ruffle her hair playfully, “because you have reached the stage where you could do some damage. I think it is time you two took over the training of the novices. I think you will find, as I have, that teaching has its own rewards. Go on now and join the others, or we shall all have to sit upwind of you at supper time.”

Ryana and Sorak went to put away their practice swords, then they walked down to the gate together, heading toward the pool. A short distance from the entrance to the convent, a thin stream bubbled up from beneath the mountains, cascading down in a waterfall that formed a pool around its base. As Ryana and Sorak approached, they could hear the others shouting as they enjoyed the bracing, ice-cold waters of the pool.

“Let us go this way, Sorak,” said Ryana, beckoning him down a path that led away from the pool, toward a point farther down, where the water flowed over some large rocks in the stream. “I am in no mood to splash and wrestle with the others. I feel like simply lying back and letting the waters engulf me.”

“Good idea,” Sorak said. “I have no energy to frolic either. I am sore all over. Tamura has exhausted me.”

“No more than you have exhausted her,” Ryana replied with a grin. “I felt so proud of you when she said you were the best pupil she ever had.”

“She said we were both the best pupils she ever had,” Sorak corrected her. “Did you really want to pay her back for all my bruises?”

Ryana smiled. “And for my own, as well. But I used to think she singled you out for mistreatment because you are male. I always thought that she resented your presence among us. Now I know better, of course.”

“Yet, there were those who resented my being here, at least in the beginning,” Sorak said.

“I know, I remember. But you proved them wrong and won them over.”

“I could never have done it without you,” said Sorak.

“We make a good team,” she said.

Sorak did not reply, and Ryana suddenly felt flooded with uncertainty again. They walked a while in silence, until they reached the bank. Sorak waded right in, without bothering to strip off his high moccasins or leather breeches. He lay back on a large flat rock and put his head in the water, soaking his hair. “Ahhh, that feels good!” he said.

Ryana watched him for a moment, then removed her robe, unlaced her moccasins and untied the leather thong holding back her long, white hair. She and Sorak had seen each other naked more times than she could count, but suddenly, she felt self-conscious. She waded out and took her place beside him on the rock. He moved over to make room for her. Now was the time, she thought. If she didn’t ask him now, she did not know if she would ever get up the courage.

“Sorak... there is something I have been meaning to ask you,” she began hesitantly. She did not quite know how to put it into words. It was the first time in her life she had ever felt awkward about expressing any of her feelings.

“I know what you are going to ask,” said Sorak before she could continue. He sat up and faced her. “I have known for quite some time now.”

“And yet, you have said nothing,” she said. Her mouth suddenly felt dry, and there was a tightness in her chest. “Why?”

Sorak looked away. “Because I have been wrestling with it myself,” he said. “I knew this moment would come, and I have dreaded it.”

Ryana felt as if she were teetering on the brink of an abyss. Those last words had said it all. “You need not go on,” she said flatly. She looked away and bit her lower lip, trying to keep it from trembling. “It was just that... I had hoped...”

“Ryana, I do care for you,” Sorak said, “but we can never be anything more to each other than what we are now.” He sighed. “I could accept you as my lover and my mate, but the Guardian could not.”

“But... why? In all the times that I have spoken with the Guardian, he has never indicated any disapproval of me. What is his objection?”

“Ryana...” Sorak said gently, “the Guardian is female.”

She stared at him, thunderstruck by this sudden revelation. “What? But, he never... I mean, you never said...” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head in confusion. “The Guardian is female?”

“Yes.”

“But... how can that be possible?”

“Ryana, I do not know,” said Sorak helplessly. “Even after all these years, there is much about the way I am I do not fully understand. I do not recall my childhood, my infancy that is, before I was cast out into the desert. The high mistress thinks that the Guardian is female because my mother was my first protector. Perhaps after I had been cast out of the tribe, my young mind somehow created a maternal entity to take over that function. But there is no way of knowing for certain how or why it came to pass. It simply happened. The Guardian is female. Nor is she the only one. At least two of my other aspects are also female. For all I know, there may be others I am not even aware of yet. Perhaps the way I have grown up here at the convent had something to do with it. Who knows? After all, I have been surrounded by females all my life. I have never known another male, nor even seen one.”

Ryana felt utterly confused. “But... you are male! How can a part of you be female? It makes no sense!”

“The mistress says we all have male and female aspects,” Sorak replied. “In my case, those aspects have become separate identities. Different people. The body that we share is male, and I, Sorak, am male, but the Guardian was born female. As were Kivara and the Watcher.”

Ryana stared at him in complete bewilderment. “Kivara? The Watcher? Who are they? I know nothing of them! In all these years, you have never even mentioned them before!”

“And I would not have mentioned them now, save that they felt it was important in this current circumstance,” Sorak replied.

Ryana suddenly felt angry. “After all the years we have known each other, after all we have meant to one another... how could you have kept this from me?”

“I could not have kept it from you,” Sorak said, “but they could, and they did.” He brought his hands up to his head and pressed his fingertips against his temples. It was a sign, Ryana knew, that one of his other aspects was trying to emerge, but that Sorak was struggling to retain control. It caused him terrible headaches, and she had not seen such an inner struggle for a long time.

“How can I possibly explain it you?” he said in a tormented voice. “We have known each other for ten years, Ryana, and yet still you do not truly comprehend what it is to be a tribe of one. You simply do not understand. Perhaps you never shall.”

“How can you say that?” she countered, feeling hurt and angry. “I was the first to speak up for you! I was the first to hold out my hand to you in friendship, and for ten years we have been as close to one another as two people can be. I had hoped we could grow closer, but now... great dragon! Now I do not know what to think!”

He took her hands. “Ryana...” She tried to pull away, but he held on firmly. “No, Ryana, listen to me. Please. I cannot help being the way I am. I, Sorak, can control but my own thoughts and actions. The others with whom I share this body all think the way they choose to think and act the way they choose to act. I can look upon you and see a warm, compassionate, intelligent, and beautiful young woman for whom I can feel desire. But the Guardian, Kivara, and the Watcher are not capable of feeling desire for a woman. Well, Kivara, I must admit, has a certain curiosity, but the Watcher and the Guardian are repelled by the idea of us becoming lovers. They could not allow it.” He brought his hands up to clutch his head and winced with pain. “No! Let me finish!”

Then, abruptly, his hands came down, and a calm, stoic expression came over his features. It was not Sorak anymore. “We should not continue this discussion,” said the Guardian flatly. “It is causing Sorak great distress.”

“Damn you,” said Ryana. “How can you do this to us? You never told me that you were female!”

“You never asked,” the Guardian replied. “How could I have thought to ask? Whenever you spoke to me, it was always with a man’s voice, as you speak to me now!”

“It is not my fault that I exist within a male body,” the Guardian replied. “Had I a choice, it is not the choice I would have made. However, it is something I have learned to accept, as you must learn to accept it.”

This is ridiculous!” Ryana shouted. “Sorak is a man!”

“No, he merely looks like one,” the Guardian replied in a calm voice. “In fact, he is an elfling. He cannot be a man, because he is not human. Or have you forgotten that, as you seem to have forgotten his needs and his feelings in the face of your own selfish desire?”

Reacting instinctively, Ryana slapped the Guardian’s face, but in doing so, she also slapped Sorak, and suddenly realized what she had done. Her hand went to her mouth and she bit down on her knuckle as her eyes went wide with shock. “What have I done? Sorak...”

“Sorak understands, and he forgives you,” said the Guardian. “And for his sake, I shall try to do the same. But you are behaving like a foolish, thoughtless girl who is merely angry because she cannot have her way. And you are only causing Sorak pain. Is that truly what you wish?”

Ryana’s eyes flooded with tears. “No,” she said in a small voice. She shook her head. “No, that is the very last thing I would wish to do.” She stifled a sob, then rose quickly and splashed back to the bank, where she had dropped her robe and moccasins. Without even bothering to put them on, she simply snatched them up and ran back toward the convent..

As she stumbled up the path, tears blurring her vision, Ryana cursed herself for a fool. She felt angry, hurt, humiliated, and more miserable than she had ever felt in her entire life. A storm of conflicting emotions surged through her. She ran, as if trying to escape them, and when she was about halfway back to the convent, she simply sank to her knees on the path and pounded her fists on the ground in helpless frustration, sobbing in both pain and anger.

Fool, fool, she thought. Why, oh, why did I not listen to the others? They only sought to warn me, to protect me... And the sudden thought came, just as the Guardian is protecting Sorak. But from what? From her love? From his own feelings? Was it not the Guardian who was being cruel and selfish? Ten years, she thought, bitterly. Ten years we knew each other, and he never told me. They never told me. The others wouldn’t let him. And then, abruptly, her feelings of pity and despair shifted from herself to Sorak.

He had told her that he cared for her, that he had wrestled with this problem, but he could not go against his own nature. She thought, with anguish, what must it be like for him? He had said she did not understand. Well, he was right. How could she? How could she possibly know what it was like to share her body with other entities who had thoughts and feelings of their own? It was not his fault. It was not something he had chosen, but a curse that he was doomed to live with, most likely for the remainder of his life. And in declaring her feelings for him, she had just made things that much worse for him.

Oh, Sorak, she thought, what have I done to you? As she knelt on the ground and wept, the shouts of the other priestesses frolicking in the nearby pool drifted toward her. She could hear them laughing as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Why couldn’t she be like them? They did not suffer for the lack of males in their lives. They were content to accept Sorak as a brother. Why wasn’t that enough for her? Perhaps they knew nothing of love, but if this was love, then with all her heart, she wished them continued ignorance.

With an effort, she struggled to pull herself together. She didn’t want the others to see her like this. What had just passed between herself and Sorak did not concern them. She stood and put on her robe and moccasins, then brushed the tears from her eyes. The Guardian was right, she thought. She would simply have to learn how to accept this. Right now, she did not know how she could, but she simply had to somehow, or else her presence around Sorak would only cause them both continued pain. She took a deep breath, trying to collect herself, and started walking purposefully back toward the convent gates. There was only one thing she could think to do right now. It would be best for Sorak if he did not see her for a while. She, too, needed time to sort things out, to be apart from him. Perhaps, she thought, they would never be able to go back to the way they once were. That thought was even more unbearable than the thought of not being able to love Sorak. In fact, she thought, I can love him. It is only that I can never truly possess him, or be possessed by him, the way it is with normal people. But then, she reminded herself, we are not normal people.

If his female aspects prevented him from making love with her, then they would also prevent him from ever making love with any other woman. In that respect, at least, Sorak would be like most villichi. He would remain celibate. Not by choice, perhaps, but by necessity. So she would do the same. In that way, perhaps, their love would be all the more pure. She knew that it would not be easy. It would take time to discipline her mind to this new resolve, just as it had taken time for her feelings toward Sorak to build up her expectations. Perhaps she had no right to any expectations, no right to think of her own desires. That, she realized, was what Saleen had meant when she talked about the vows that they all took.

“... above all personal desires and material comfort,” she said with bitter irony. She had been but a child when she took those vows. What did she know of their true meaning? It was all so horribly unfair. The question was, what would happen now? Neither she nor Sorak could ever forget what had just passed between them. “Villichi do not marry,” Saleen had said. “We do not take mates.” Ryana had allowed herself to think she could be different. And it was a curse to be different. She had learned that lesson once before, in childhood, and now, because she had forgotten it, she had painfully learned it once again.