I was trembling the morn of my sixteenth birthing day as I presented myself at the chamber of the Arbitrator. It was apparently not a common day for birthing - I was the only supplicant that day for that particular matter. That, of course, did not surprise me. Children born on that day (or rather, during that week) had to have been conceived during the forbidden week. Children born during that week were invariably cursed, just as I was. Most couples had better control, and more desire not to be the parents of an outcast. Apparently my parents were the only ones - or nearly the only ones - to succumb to the temptation the year I was conceived.
The knowledge that my presence at the chamber of the Arbitrator set me apart from others my age just as clearly as the appearance that came hand in hand with my birthing day did was not the only reason I trembled that day. It was a strong force, but certainly not the only one. I trembled also, and mostly, because I knew that this was my last chance. My father had advised me to simply choose an Apprenticeship with the Laborers. They would accept me, since their kind did not need to associate with the public. My obviously cursed appearance would have no effect on my ability to find work as a Laborer.
I certainly could not get that sort of guarantee with any other position, something my father had been quick to point out. And not only that... That same cursed appearance would bring bad luck to whoever the Arbitrator decided would be my Master. How could I doom another to that sort of fate when I could easily prevent it? That had been my father's argument against my decision to present myself to the Arbitrator.
But I just couldn't give myself up to the Laborers. I wasn't fit for a Laborer's job, and everyone who had ever met me knew that. I had too much pride to give myself up to a life of hard labor and misery just because I was too afraid to see what the Lady of Judgement had in store for me. If She wanted me to Labor, I would go, albeit reluctantly, but until that wish came to me, via the Arbitrator, of course, I had to hope.
That is not to say that I wasn't terrified of the results. As I said earlier, I was trembling as I brought myself into the Chamber. I could barely keep myself upright as I tottered from the great doors to the supplicant's pillow, right in front of the altar. I could feel the sharp gaze of the Servant of the Lady, there to interpret and carry out Her will as told by the Arbitrator itself, as I almost fell flat on my face while settling into the proper kneeling position on the pillow. Still, I didn't fall.
"Name?" the Servant asked, though I was sure he already knew the name of the only cursed child coming of age that day.
"Fhom, son of Chadril."
"You claim a parent, yet you come alone." His words were nothing but a statement, but at the same time, I knew he was questioning me. Tradition dictated I present myself accompanied by my father, or my closest living adult relative in the absence of a father. I was alone, my father still asleep in his bed at home.
"He feels I should just skip the Arbitration and give myself over to the Laborers." He said nothing as I glanced at him, but I could almost see the "logical" continuation running through his head. "As you will end up anyway..."
"Understood," he said, after several moments. Moments, no doubt, spent in silent deliberation with Servant in other places, trying to determine if an unaccompanied supplicant could be served or not. Apparently it was all right, since I was not being hauled out of the chamber by the invisible guards.
"Stand, and approach the Arbitrator. Do not speak. Do not make any sudden movements. Try not to think. You will accept whatever the Arbitrator declares. You will stop whatever you are doing should I tell you to do so."
Before standing, I nodded once to signal my agreement to the terms. Then I stood, as fluidly as I could, and proceeded up the seven shallow steps of the platform on which rested the arbitrator. I somehow managed to make it up the steps without falling, despite the fact that I couldn't feel my legs below my knees, and I came to a halt right in front of the body-sized box that was the Arbitrator.
The Servant stepped over to the Arbitrator as well, sinking down to his knees as he came up next to me. In one continuous, graceful motion he lay himself prostrate in front of the Arbitrator. I could hear the first notes of a tuneless chant form in the back of his throat, and before I knew it, I was unconsciously echoing the tones, if not the words that seemed to be nonsense to my ears. I had been warned against speaking, but apparently joining in his chant was allowed, possibly even encouraged, since I earned myself no reprimand for doing so.
"So," a man's voice stated suddenly from behind me, breaking the both of us out of the trancelike state caused by the chanting, "the rumors were true. You folks really do worship your selector systems. I honestly didn't think the others were serious about that. I guess I was wrong."
Stunned and confused, I turned to face the sourced of the shocked-sounding voice. Even as I did so, the Servant sprang to his feel, so quickly I could barely track his movements, and whirled to face the intruder. Really, it was the only right thing for him to do. The Arbitration was one of the most important rituals in the life of a young person, along with the Naming and Marriage. One of the tasks set forth for the Servants of the Lady was to ensure that all personal rituals carried out in the chamber of the Arbitrator went forth as proscribed, with no interruptions. All Servants were trained in several methods of dealing with would-be interruptions.
"State your name and purpose," the Servant snarled at the man standing just inside the doorway. "You are intruding on an important event that has nothing to do with you."
I suppose an intruder could be someone connected to the supplicant. A family member or friend who objects to the event in progress, or something like that. That, however, was not the case with this intruder. He was quite definitely not connected with me, nor with anyone in the area given his outlander's robes. A bushy red beard and stout beard marked him as coming from the lands far to the east, though his robes were of the sort worn in the kingdom just to the south. Either way, he was not one of us.
"Lare Manstrol," the outlander said. "I'm here to recharge the selector system. I didn't think anyone would need to use it during the Holy Week."
"Holy Week?" For one moment the Servant and I seemed to be thinking the exact same thing, though he immediately turned to glare at me as a reminder that I was not supposed to speak.
"You know," the intruder, Lare, said, gesturing in the air. "The week the All-Father created his Children? The week more power fills the air than in the rest of the entire year. Can't you feel it, or are you folk as blind as they say? You, at least," - he glanced over at me - "should be able to feel it."
Not knowing what in the world he was talking about, I shook my head. I didn't dare speak again, not after the Servant's glare the first time. Besides I couldn't possibly be "feeling" whatever he was talking about without knowing it. That was what I told myself when the little voice in the back of my mind protested at answering the question without understanding it in the first place.
"If this "Holy Week" you refer to is occurring right now," the Servant said, "then you are sorely mistaken. This week is far from holy. It is a cursed week, full of cursed happenings and cursed births."
"No wonder you folk are considered the backwater of the Empire," Lare muttered, just barely loudly enough that I could make out his words. The Servant it seems, with his stiff headdress marking his position, did not hear it, and to this day I believe that was a good thing.
"Now then," the Servant continued, "you claim to be here to recharge the Arbitrator, do you not?"
"Assuming you mean the selection system, then yes. But if you're about to put this kid in it, you might as well do that first. It has enough juice left for a couple more runs before it goes strange on you. I'll just sit in the corner and wait until you're done."
"That will not do."
"Huh?"
"If the Arbitrator is as low on power as you say," the Servant said, his mouth set in a grim line, "it might not have enough to deal with this child." He didn't do anything to indicate me, but then, I was the only child in the chamber.
"I told you," Lare retorted, sounding annoyed. "It has enough juice for a couple more runs. Unless there's some hidden royal destiny for this kid, and that's not bleeding likely, there's no way it won't have enough power to process him."
"This child is cursed. I will not chance an inaccurate reading for one such as him." I felt my cheeks grow warm as the Servant talked about me as if I were nothing more than a piece of furniture. Rather, it was worse than that, since it was clear he held nothing for me but disdain. It was more like he talked about me as if I were a piece of furniture he wanted to get rid of as soon as possible.
Lare muttered again, this time softly enough that I couldn't understand anything more than the fact that he was muttering. He stared at the Servant for several moments, seemingly weighing out his options in his mind. I could have told him that trying to defy the Servant of the Lady was a fool's choice and would get him nowhere, but for one, I was not allowed to speak, never mind that I didn't think he would listen. From what I'd heard, outlanders rarely listened to wisdom when it came to dealing with our faith, especially those who serve the Lady of Judgement.
Finally, Lare shrugged and strode across the chamber to where the Servant and I stood. He made shooing motions, trying to get the both of us to move away from the Arbitrator. I stayed still, knowing that if I moved away without the Servant's permission I would be jeopardizing the fate of my Arbitration. I think Lare realized this, since a moment later he turned to the Servant with a strange look on his face.
"I'm gonna need some room to work here," he said. "And this boy doesn't seem to want to move without your word to do so. If you insist on me recharging the selection system right now, you're gonna have to let me do my job."
I barely caught sight of it, but the Servant scowled at Lare for a moment before clearing his throat overly loudly and growling something at me to the effect of "do what he said," only significantly less politely than that. Completely inappropriate behavior for a Servant of the Lady, but I had the distinct feeling at that point that he was in over his head and was starting to panic. I couldn't help but think that it was interesting, especially since Lare seemed to be far different from any other person I had ever met. And when everyone that you've ever met has scorned you for something that you have no control over in the first place, someone different is a relief.
I moved back, though even as I moved I realized that I really didn't want to. Lare caught my arm before I got too far, stopping me and whispering to me in words pitched so low I could barely hear them. "Don't go too far. You may as well watch, since you might well end up doing this sometime in the future, whether you choose the never-ending path or not."
I looked at him in complete confusion at that point, still not ready to speak again for fear of angering the Servant beyond his limits. He looked back at me for a moment, thick beard framing a huge smile and eyes laughing silently at me. It was then that I got my first good look at his eyes and realized that, like me, he was cursed. Not quite as drastically as I was, since he had not the pitch black hair or the seemingly breakable bone structure, but he had the silver eyes, the same color as my own, yet far different from the curse eyes I saw each time I dared glance in the mirror.
"Don't worry," he whispered. "He told you not to move too much at the beginning, right? Well, that's all you're doing right now. Just stay there, stay silent, and watch. Maybe learn something while you're at it." He grinned at me one last time, and then turned back to the Arbitrator to begin his work.
I did as he said, and the Servant said nothing. I think he might have been too shocked to realize exactly what was going on. Or maybe he just didn't care anymore. After all, I was just a cursed child. Why should he go out of his way to make sure a cursed child didn't get tainted when the child had been tainted since he was born?
Whatever his reasons, I stood there and watched as Lare opened a hidden panel on the side of the Arbitrator to reveal a faint glow. He reached inside and carefully drew out a ball of light, balancing it on his palm as if it might dissipate if he breathed on it wrong. For all I knew, that might have been the case, so I held my breath as much as I could to keep from ruining anything. Had I not done that, I might not have heard it - three short phrases in a language I didn't understand, said so softly that the sounds of daily life would normally hide them from all but the one who uttered them. Those phrases pulled at something deep within me, awaking a want - a need, rather - that I had never realized existed before, and the pull grew stronger with each of the phrases he spoke, until it snapped after the third and washed out over the entire surface of the Arbitrator.
And then it was over. I could do nothing but stare as Lare stepped back from the Arbitrator, a smile plastered across his face. He turned to me smiling, and I could almost hear him say "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" He didn't actually say anything, though, and instead turned to the Servant, his smile turning just a shade colder as he faced the other man.
"I'm done. But I plan on checking the energy level again right after you run the boy through. If that actually uses up more energy than was left in there before, I'll eat my bleeding hat."
"You go ahead and do that," the Servant said, stepping forward. A glance at his face told me that he was starting to gain his bearings again now that he was once more in charge of the goings on. I waited for his orders and resumed my position in front of the Arbitrator once he indicated. He returned to his prostrate position next to me, and I soon found myself pulled back into the tuneless chant he started as he returned to the ritual of the Arbitration.
I will not go into details of the ritual itself. Those who have been through an Arbitration know what it is like. Those who have been through a selection (as it is known in the rest of the world outside of our lands), know the very basics, but none of the details that make Arbitrations so much different from what they were originally based on. And those who have been through neither... Those people will have to live with knowing that I went through the Arbitration, but not how that happened. I am oath-bound by a servant of Lythtan, Lord of Silence, to never reveal the secrets of our people without life or death extenuating circumstances. Lare is the only outside in many, many years to learn some of those secrets without coming into our society soon afterward.
However, the moment the result of the ritual was presented, that is the moment that it stopped being sacred for me. I am allowed to tell of it from that moment onward. At least, that is how I think of it. Were I any other person from our lands, I would not feel that way, but from that moment onward, I was no longer one of my own people, even cursed as I had been my entire life. The result of the Arbitration made that clear, so I see the presentation of that result as the point where I became no longer bound by the oaths of the people I had been born to.
I was again outside of the Arbitrator at the point where this happened, as I should be. The Servant was standing at the output door, waiting for the word of the Arbitrator, which, as everyone knows, would be the sacred word of the Lady of Judgement. The Arbitrator chimed pleasantly, a sign that it was done, and then the slip of paper slid out into the waiting Servant's hands. No one but the Servant would be allowed to touch, or even look at, the paper. He would relay the words of the Lady to us, but those same words were not to be beheld by the uninitiated.
I stood still, waiting as patiently as I could as he unfolded the paper and read it. I even managed to stay in place as I saw a surprised look spread across his face. That look quickly changed to something clouded, almost angry... and almost immediately after that to a sort of sinister glee. But still, he said nothing. Not knowing what to do, I tried looking over at Lare, who was still waiting over to the side, leaning against the wall and looking decidedly bored. I'm not sure what prompted me to do that, though, since all he did was gesture at me with his head to go over to the Servant and find out for myself. I remembered at that point that he had no idea of what was proper; I could never disrupt the end of the ritual like that, even if something had obviously gone awry. As I shook my head and looked down, Lare just shrugged, as if to say he thought I was doing the wrong thing, and then looked up at the ceiling.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the Servant looked up from the paper. He was smiling broadly, the same way that my father had the day the Elders decided to start buying his furniture when they needed new pieces. Something had made him feel like he had won, if the meaning behind that smile was the same. Still determined not to screw up again, I stayed silent, hoping he would reveal whatever the decision was to the rest of us eventually. It paid out as he cleared his throat in preparation to speak.
"You've been exiled."
Nothing else came - just that. I stared at him as if he had grown a second head. That wasn't the purpose of the Arbitrator. The Arbitrator declared one's vocation... the work that one would be doing until death. I wasn't on trial for a crime, so I couldn't be punished with exile, even cursed as I was. While the act that resulted in cursed children like myself was a crime, I wasn't the one who had committed that crime. Never had a cursed child been punished for what his or her parents had done...never.
Then the Servant laughed a little. "See for yourself. I'll leave the result here for you to look at after I'm gone. You're not one of us anymore, so it certainly isn't any of my business if you get stricken down by the Lady for blasphemy. Just wait until I've left so I don't have to watch if she does, okay?"
That was all he said to me before folding the paper back up and walking out of the room at a brisk pace, as if my mere presence was distasteful to him. It probably was, now that I think about it. After all, I was cursed. He was laughing softly the entire time, though, which was more than a little disturbing to me. I stared back at him, a strange, sick feeling roiling in my gut as the doors shut heavily behind him.
I couldn't move for a while after he left. All I could do is stare at the doors, wondering what I had done wrong. It had to have been something that I did. I had never heard of this happening to anyone else. Minutes passed, and I still couldn't do anything, until I heard a sigh from behind me, where Lare was still standing.
"Aren't you going to look at it?" he asked, and I turned to face him, my mind feeling dull and heavy. For a moment, I couldn't quite process the words that he had said, only registering the fact that he had asked me a question, not the meaning of it. "Hey," he said again, "you okay there?"
I shook my head, and then sank to the ground. I believe at that point he realized that I wasn't going to be going to look on my own, because right after that he stepped forward away from the wall and walked over to where the Servant had left the folded up paper. He bent down, picked it up, unfolding it as he straightened himself, and then looked at it.
His reaction was... not anywhere near the same as the Servant's. He smiled and laughed, but it was a genuine smile and sincerely happy sounding laugh. Then he came up alongside me, and bent down to put an arm around me as if I were a longtime friend. He stuck the open paper in front of my face.
"It doesn't quite say 'exile,'" he said. "But I can see what he was getting at."
I dully forced my eyes to focus on the paper in front of me. The script was strangely old fashioned, as if it had been written by someone long dead. Because of that, for a few moments, even though I knew I was seeing the word on the paper clearly, I couldn't quite force the meaning of that word through my head. But then the letters finally clicked, and I took in the word written on the paper, the word that had determined my future from that point on.
Magus.