SYMBOLS

CHAPTER 2

Kylani was only nineteen, but she had been chosen. The ever enlarging group of vagabonds, outcasts and half-caste children had gathered around the small homemade fire of lit sticks and twigs and all put up their hands in support of her. She had been so proud then, but now as she swept her mind back over the short span of her life, she realized that today could be her undoing and her heart quickened its pace at the thought.

The crowd was starting to build in the little stone chapel, and with the increase in numbers came the muffled murmur of voices, all attempting to talk and yet stay hushed. Kylani knew she wouldn't stand out. No one but she would question whether she really belonged here. Her parents had been loyal to their past and Kylani had inherited the dominant features of the Anawin race - brilliant long auburn hair, eyes black like coal and the classic high forehead and facial markings that were very much like the depiction of her ancestors in the stained glass window high above her head. Kylani knew that with her growing maturity she would one day be very pretty, and her stance and quick hand swipe to brush the hair away from her eyes reflected her confident and yet unfettered image of herself.

"Sorry," a young Anawin priest whispered, as Kylani recoiled from her broken reverie and the memory of his bony elbow thumping against her arm. Massaging the contact spot, she took a few steps backward to avoid his return through the crowd. The priest's underlying ivory colored clothing and hooded purple robe made him easy to recognize, and usually avoid, and it set her thoughts on the path of trying to construct a mental image of her aging father as a resplendent young priest. But finding the image she desired, she questioned whether her father had ever looked so regal in his dark purple robe.

The priest motioned the crowd toward some ornate wooden benches nearby. She needed an end seat. Her friend Masson had insisted she get a seat at the end of a bench. So she would wait until everyone else was seated and then ask some unsuspecting pious devotee to please move over, so she could sit on the end.

She watched the benches fill, then chose an old graying man in the second row from the front. Flashing her most innocent smile, she reminded the old man of his youth and he willingly shifted over to allow her warm young body to press him more tightly into the other occupants of the bench.

Once the onlookers were all seated, Kylani noticed that the same priest, who had previously bumped into her, took up his position in front of the white cloth that shielded the stone altar, and lifting up his head, commenced the familiar processional song. The priest's voice was melodic and his words clear to the listeners who had been schooled in the original and uncorrupted dialect of their Anawin forefathers. Kylani listened to the music. It was like an oft-sung lullaby. She didn't have to think about the words, they came naturally to her mind. Then she grew impatient with herself at the thought that three years of modern language studies had not diminished her recollection of these archaic tones.

The priest's voice escalated in volume, while the echo of approaching footsteps made the crowd come alive, and as if collectively pulled up by a puppeteer, they stood and stared in the direction of the open doorway. Louder footsteps followed and Kylani caught her first glimpse. There were three children, varying in size, but alike as siblings and also bearing a certain resemblance to the crowd. The children had been well prepared for the occasion and maintained their pace, walking in single file, splendid in their white robes, constant in their divine purpose and unwavering in their forward gaze.

Kylani stared at the approaching children and for just a brief moment, she recalled her own inheritor ceremony, with both a mixture of pride in its historical significance and humor at its farcical meaning in her current life. Then her thoughts turned to Tayna.

The child was second in the procession. At only five years of age, she was the smallest of the three. Kylani watched her parade past, but Tayna showed no sign of distraction or recognition and continued to walk toward the priest. She was caught up in the spectacle of the ceremony, but Kylani felt no joy in the occasion, only anxiety, and she fought against the desire to cross her arms over the huge knot building in the pit of her stomach.