Wild Magic

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On the Instant that Chumavayal is danced down, he that was ancient will be newborn, knowing nothing.

On that Instant the Years of Iron will be forgotten, as if the five hundred years just completed did not exist at all, as if those five hundred years were simply erased from time.

Abeyhamal and Chumavayal forget them.

The Fadogurs of Zam Fadogurum forget them. Forget the Amrapake.

Forget the Language.

Forget the caste names and make them newMaulapam the landlords and rulers, Cheoshim the warriors, Biasharim the merchants, Fundarim the artisans, Naostam the laborers, and Wascram the children born to slaves.

Forget the protocols and prohibitions of Chumavayal.

Forget the orders of priesthood-the Kassoate of Chumavayal:

ABOSOA who do the Family Rites of Life-birth, confirmation and marriage.

ADJOA who tend the public worship-nam-

ings and festal and openings of every kind. ANACHOA who keep the Cult of the Dead ANAXOA who perform all sacrifices and tend the Forge Fires.

MANASSOA who administer the Temples, Schools and, most of all, the Funds of the Orders.

QUIAMBOA who teach and study.

Forget the tables of Descent and Privilege. Forget marriage laws and marriage customs. The Fadogurs of Zam Fadogurum churn a while in the Turn’s End Chaos then settle into a new Pattern, a new peace.

I watch.

It is my amusement to watch the permutations and combinations of the Change, the infinitely varied kaleidoscopic corruscations of the Dance.

The end is always the same

The details never.