The boy opened one eye and watched Finah standing over him, a look of admonishment in her light blue eyes. Slowly stirring, he stared out the window at a distant marble column, and he remembered his dream.
How different it was, he thought. Not even here but somewhere else, in another time.
He wiped his eyes to bring himself into the present. “Good morning, Mother,” he said finally, stretching. His curly hair fell over his ears and brow, a few light strands sticking straight up.
Through groggy eyes, he watched her absentmindedly tuck a rebellious curl back into her headband. “Well, good morning. I was wondering if you were ever going to get up today. You were in such a deep sleep.”
“I was dreaming, Mother,” he said, while he donned the ankle-length robe she handed him. “It was so strange, like I belonged in the dream and not here. I wasn’t even me but someone else, a different boy. How can that be?”
Finah shook her head and smiled at such silliness. “Well, I know dreams can be unusual sometimes but I don’t know why we have them. Why don’t you ask Master Atel?”
She pinched his cheek lovingly, then turned to leave, her long cambric robe flowing gracefully as she moved. “Now, come. Eat your breakfast or you’ll be late. You know you are fortunate to study with the priests. Don’t let them think you’re not grateful.”
Ketzah sat in a sleepy daze, listening to the sound of her sandals touching on the shiny marble hallway floor. He climbed out of his high bed onto the stool, hopping the rest of the way to the floor.
His thoughts drifted to his classes in the temple. Like other children, he had started in the city school at the age of seven. There he was taught the beginnings of reading, writing and numbers. At the end of the first year, the teacher asked each child to write what he or she wanted to do when an adult. This would guide the teachers in class placement next year.
Being so young, most boys and girls wrote their fantasies of adulthood. Many wanted to fly the new airships that were so popular in Atlan. Some wanted to be soldiers earning glory for meritorious deeds. A few thought they’d like to be teachers. Future ship captains, law keepers and architects also graced the benches.
One little girl, Falima Orkada, said she wanted with all her heart to be a healer and end every disease of body and mind.
Ketzah hadn’t been able to answer at lesson time. He asked his slightly annoyed instructors for more time—a day—that he might devote more thought to his purpose.
That night, after dinner with his family, he sat alone in their courtyard garden on a bench of cool marble, staring at the stone walk. He followed it with his eyes through the papyrus near the pool and splashing fountain, past the pomegranate bushes, under the wisteria arbor, up the stone steps, ending at the wooden gate that led to the orange grove.
His eyes walked the path—back and forth, back and forth. What do I want to do? he asked himself repeatedly. Nothing came to mind, though he knew he wanted to make a difference in the world. Finah called him in for bed and he reluctantly obeyed, frustrated that he had no answer.
At school the next day, Ketzah apologized that he couldn’t name a single profession. “I don’t know yet what I’m good at,” he said, “but I do know that I’ll do my best to help the world to be a better place.”
Ketzah’s contemplative response impressed the teachers. Soon after, Ketzah and Falima were chosen for training in the Old Temple of Poseidl. They alone showed qualities of noble aspirations for their age. With proper guidance, they might someday be of great service to the nation.
Their parents were delighted. Education by the high priests was a great honor. After bragging to all who would listen of their son’s invitation, the Kowatos went over their finances and concluded they could afford to give Ketzah this special schooling without hardship to them. Falima, too, was able to take advantage of the opportunity.
Each child of the temple attended group classes, and also sessions with a private tutor—all taught by the priests. Along with the regular academics, these students had daily periods of meditation and spiritual study. Often they went to the forum to hear the speakers of the day, later discussing all sides of the current topic from a more esoteric and philosophic viewpoint.
Ketzah yawned sleepily and slowly combed his hair. He secured it with a gold and white linen headband, then put on his sandals, thinking all the while of the temple school. Majestic and beautiful, it was a peaceful oasis in the center of this thriving city. Constructed mainly of white and black marble, its huge pillars were decorated with onyx, beryl, topaz and amethyst, doorways and friezes plated with gold, silver and copper, ceilings of ivory, and the floors polished to such luster that they reflected the grandeur of the surroundings.
Circling this great edifice was a granite wall coated with gold. Atop the wall stood a multitude of statues, depicting the mythical deities of yore, facets of the One Unknowable God. Divinities of harvest, of fertility, of home and hearth, of war. But in the center stood the largest—Poseidl, god of the sea, of which the city and temple took its name.
Lining the inside walls were numerous small chambers, rooms for private ceremonies and classes. The main atrium was the huge temple room itself. Here stood the eternal flame, kept burning with rare aromatic herbs fed by the keepers of the temple, both students and priests. Directly in front of the flame, flanked by a white column to the right and black column to the left, stood the altar, which symbolized the unifying force of the universe, called simply the Light.
The Light was the total composite of all the attributes of the mythological gods. Along the left and right walls were long, polished benches, enough seating for at least five hundred people. Although at one time the temple had often been crowded with worshipers, nowadays it would be a surprise to see even a hundred people at a ceremony. Ketzah’s mentor Atel said it had been at least a century since every seat had been filled.
Ah, but what glory days they had been. Ketzah remembered Atel’s stunning descriptions and sometimes imagined, as he did now, himself attending a long-ago ceremony. He visualized every bench in the cavernous room filled with worshippers in prayer and meditation. Only the sounds of slow breathing and occasional crackle of a torch could be heard.
It was as if he were there now. A hint of incense—sandalwood, rose and myrrh—wafts gently throughout the air. A lone, deep voice of a priest intones the sacred “Aumm,” drawing out each sound to last a long, heart-thrilling exhalation.
Now as the last hum fades away, another priest begins his chant, “Aauummm,” then another priest and another, until twelve priests’ low voices fill the room with harmonics.
As if on cue, the assemblage joins in. Voices high and low, young and old, chant the sacred Aum over and over, uniting in one voice.
From two darkened portals in the rear, flickering light appears. From the right door enter six young girls, each in a white robe, one following the other in slow procession. At the same time, from the left door six young boys, each in black, slowly file out in somber cadence. The robes flow airily as they walk, so much so as to seem not of the physical world. Each child carries a lamp held high, a small fire flickering in scented oil.
To the left and to the right, in a line they slowly make their procession throughout the temple room, girls passing the black column, boys the white column, bringing this symbolic light to every corner. They reach the front and place their small lamps around the eternal flame, then find their places on cushions close by. The chanting fades to a silence once more, but now the air is crackling with a sacred presence.
Ketzah sighed. Yes, those were the days, indeed.
But societies change throughout time and, sadly, people in these modern times seem to have become so steeped in material possessions, they no longer pay homage to the Light. They do enough to look pious, to assuage their guilt and no more. The ways of the Old Temple are quaint—even amusing—a custom to be observed on holidays. Their real allegiance is in the ne
wer temples among the city, hastily built edifices of gaudy design and lush comfort, all of which stress gratification of the senses.
“Ketzah!”
Sleepily sitting on his stool, Ketzah snapped out of his daydreams and jumped up. “Coming, Mother!” Moments later, he was running down the road as quickly as he could, eating fried bread with honey, too late to sit and have breakfast tea with Finah.
He raced down the shiny streets, down broad avenues paved with white stone, which gleamed so beautifully they seemed almost radiant. Nearly silent vehicles, powered by Crystal energy, whispered past. An airship hummed overhead. Surrounded by the polished white and black marble buildings, Poseidl was one of the most beautiful cities in the world.
The road took him into the heart of this capital city, where the most important structure in all of Atlan stood—the building that held the Great Crystal, also called the Firestone. This great gem, which captured and intensified the sun’s energy, was Atlan’s power, its glory and its infamy. Of all the islands in the nation, Poseidl was the most important because here, in the city of the same name, was the government and its power.
Ketzah ran through the gilded gateway and up the marble steps to the temple. Sweating and panting, he slowed as he entered the cool, quiet interior, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darker inner halls. Echoing slaps of his sandals interrupted the silence. An old priest looked up from the ancient scroll he was reading and stared at the boy. A hint of amusement crossed his face. White wisps of shoulder-length hair reached this way and that until they came to rest on the man’s coarse gray robe.
“Ah, Little Brother,” he said, a twinkle in his black, almond-shaped eyes. “I was wondering if you had forgotten about classes this morning. You look winded. Is anything the matter?”
Ketzah took a moment to catch his breath before answering. “No, Master Atel. I slept too long, that’s all. I had a strange dream I’d like to tell you about.”
The old man got up from his wooden chair and rolled up the parchment. “A dream, eh? Well, let’s get on with our lessons and you may tell me of this later.” He walked slowly toward an inner door, his back stooped slightly.
Ketzah followed Atel into a small room and slipped onto a wooden bench at a table, his teacher coming to rest in a chair at the other end.
On each wall stood shelves as high as the towering ceiling, where lay a vast array of ancient and modern wisdom, both in old scrolls and in the more modern codices, which were long sheets of parchment folded many times to form pages in convenient handheld tomes.
The studies began with numbers. Ketzah tried hard to concentrate on the lessons but the dream kept dancing before him, interrupting his train of thought. Atel’s voice seemed monotone, no more comprehensible than the hum of a bee laboring from blossom to blossom.
Atel noted the glassy look in his student’s eyes and finally said, “I think I would have better success today teaching a fish to speak. Your mind seems to be elsewhere, Little Brother. Let us have some tea and you may tell me what is on your mind.”
The priest prepared hibiscus and orange blossom tea and poured it into decorative ceramic goblets. Meanwhile, Ketzah made up a platter of grapes, figs, apricots and cheese. He placed it on the table with great care so as not to seem too anxious. Then they sat down and took a moment to silently give thanks for their repast. Ketzah took a large apricot and bit into it, a bit of the ripe juice dripping on his hand.
“Now, tell me of your dream,” said Atel.
Ketzah pondered for a moment as he chewed and swallowed the mouthful, trying to recall the scenes in perfect order. “I was living somewhere, but not here,” he began, “and not anywhere I’ve ever seen. It felt like it was a long time ago. I saw a volcano in the distance. I lived in a tiny village that didn’t have a name and there was a large forest nearby. The trees gave off a strange smell. I liked it and...” he was surprised to notice this, “I can still remember how it smelled.” He paused for a moment to savor the perfumed trees.
“I saw people but they looked different than anyone I’ve ever seen. Yet it seemed familiar to me. Their skin was tan and they had long hair, dark and wavy. Their foreheads were large but they weren’t ugly, just different. They had a funny lump in the center of their foreheads. I knew I looked that way, too. I was still a boy, but I wasn’t me, though I felt like myself.” He shook his head in frustration. “I don’t know how to explain that so you’d understand.
“And animals! There were huge beasts. We were afraid of them. But it seems we knew, kind of like a feeling in our heads, if one was coming. We’d know in time to seek shelter.”
Atel wasn’t eating. He remained motionless and silent, a curious look in his eyes. “Do you remember what you were doing?”
“Well, I had gone off to live with a man I had just met. I was to be educated and he was my teacher. There was no paper, and parchment was expensive, so we wrote with sticks on pieces of soft clay. Once, I left my body sitting on the floor and journeyed, with my mind, to the sun to see what it was and how it moved.” He realized how crazy that must sound. “That seems silly now but in the dream it was normal.
“I guess that’s all because then my mother woke me up. She had a hard time waking me because I was sleeping so hard and that’s why I was late to the temple.” He looked questioningly at Atel. “Why do you think I was dreaming such a thing?”
Atel had been staring silently all the while Ketzah gave his recitation. Now his brow furrowed and he put a hand to his old wrinkled chin. “Hmm,” he muttered. “An interesting dream.” He spent a few moments thinking silently, then repeated, “A very interesting dream, indeed. I will have to think about this.”
Ketzah knew Atel enough not to ask more about the experience. If he needed to think about something, then there was no sense in bringing up the subject again until it was fully thought out. The meal was finished in silence, Atel locked in his thoughts, Ketzah in his, trying to think of anything more of the dream he may have forgotten. He decided he had told everything.
He concluded there really hadn’t been much to it and didn’t know why it made such an impression on him. He forced it out of his mind for the time being.
Soon he was busy with studies and discussions. Atel had use of a polished crystal, useful for making tiny objects appear large. They studied insects, plants and even the hairs on their heads. That afternoon, Ketzah learned how unseen bodies in the heavens could be observed with a stronger crystal. The day passed quickly.
* * * *
Chapter 5
It was late afternoon and Ketzah waited, as he often did, at the temple gate for Falima. Falima liked to linger after classes to ask questions—to be sure she had every lesson well understood so as not to wonder about it later. Ketzah couldn’t understand this, as he was usually confidant, perhaps overly so, that whatever Master Atel told him, he learned immediately.
A breeze ruffled his hair and a scent of jasmine wafted across him. He ignored the sweet fragrance, instead thinking about school, which he liked very much. He soaked up everything he could of the ordinary school subjects and, to the common person, what could be termed magical arts.
This morning he had taken a bamboo flute, which he had made a few days before under the guidance of Master Moradl, and joined the other students with cymbals, sistrums, bells and lyres. On holy days, the temple students played sacred music for the townspeople, so they practiced often. The melodies played in his head now, and he hummed to himself while watching the doorway for Falima.
He greeted students making their way outside and down the steps, most of them older than Ketzah. In a way, temple schoolmates were closer than their own families, for some lessons were unfamiliar to outsiders, even their parents. And sometimes they were ridiculed by children from the city schools, who called them ‘the holy kids,’ ‘temple brats,’ and little ‘butterflies.’
A stocky boy a year older than Ketzah skipped down the steps. “H
o, Dregl,” called Ketzah. “Have you seen Falima?”
“Yes. She’s talking with Master Shu.” He smiled impishly. “Why? Are you her dog, chained to the gate?”
“No, of course not. We just live near each other; we walk home together.”
Dregl laughed. “Maybe you just want to be close to her. I bet I’m right!”
Ketzah’s face burned. He jumped at Dregl, but the boy took off in a run, chortling hard. Ketzah chased him, but couldn’t keep up. “Tomorrow! We’ll talk about this tomorrow!”
Dregl made a silly face at Ketzah, then headed home.
Ketzah walked back to the gate. He smiled, thinking of Dregl’s words. Yes, he did enjoy being with Falima. But he couldn’t let Dregl know. Ketzah himself didn’t understand his feelings, and was sure no boys his age thought about girls. It was embarrassing just thinking about it.
He stared at the doorway, wishing she would hurry up. Much of their day was spent with a private tutor or with a small class, so he liked this time when they could visit, as well as when they walked to and from the forum. Not boisterous children usually, they mostly enjoyed mental pastimes. But sometimes they released their energy with a lively game of tag while they ran down the streets or, like now, teased each other into a game of chase.
Ketzah and Falima were best friends and, unbeknown to her, Ketzah thought she was pretty. He envisioned her in his mind. Like all pure Atlanteans, her hair was straight, nearly black, yet the sun revealed copper highlights. This she wore to her shoulders, as did everyone in Atlan, every man, woman and child. A beaded headband wreathed her head, a special gift from her beloved grandmother, given shortly before she died. A sudden illness had befallen the old woman, and in a single afternoon she had gone from feeling a slight nausea to death, all witnessed by her tiny granddaughter.
The tragedy had traumatized the small child, and was the one dark shadow in the youngster’s life. Generally, she loved life and usually found something funny or beautiful to make her happy. Ketzah glowed thinking about her smile.
Shadows grew longer, and he sat on the ground leaning up against the gate. He pictured Falima’s bronze skin and copper-brown eyes, which contrasted considerably with Ketzah, whose gray-blue eyes, fair skin and golden hair told everyone he was not pure Atlantean.