APEX PROJECT 

THE FORTRESS

The first light of dawn had already happened before Ellen in fresh khakis, her hair tied back under a gold print scarf, stepped through the front door of the hotel and into the waiting Wagoneer. The first steady beams of bright morning light were cutting across the high mud walls when they pulled into the parking lot. The unhappy girl, as they all were calling her now, was very prompt, arriving at four-fifty-five A.M. with her own flashlight and an expression of great suffering. However this time, the big gate was opened and the Jeep roared through the high arched entrance. Jamshid jumped out to help pull the big barrier closed again, and as Ellen had instructed, told the girl that they would pay for all the extra hours even if the Ministry paid her as well.

"She probably has a family to take care of and other responsibilities. It's the least we can do."

This news did seem to soften the attitude a little and the girl murmured her thanks as she replaced the large padlock. She would return at the usual opening time and they must take the vehicle outside at that time.

Ellen was anxious to take advantage of the sharp, low-angle light cutting across the buildings, casting long shadows along the streets. "Drive as close as we can get to the top of the fort or castle, whatever that is up there. We'll get our map shot first."

"I think it is a king's house," Jamshid said as he rummaged in the back for the two thermos that he had brought.

After one wrong turn and backing up, Iraj found the right streets with Mosein's expert navigating. They reached the base of the high, imposing walls. Iraj parked right at the entrance which was blocked by a permanent barrier with only a small pedestrian opening.

Ellen thought the crisp morning air smelled delicious; almost as good as the paper cup of coffee that Jamsid handed up to the front seat. He passed out cups of hot tea for Iraj and Mosein and poured a coffee for himself. He was going to drink the bitter, unsweetened brew if that's what professionals drank.

"I didn't know you drank coffee," Ellen said noticing how carefully he was sipping.

"Oh, yes. It is the drink that all the Baluchi camel drivers drink."

As they got the necessary gear out of the Jeep, Mosein climbed up front and settled into the driver's seat, his cowboy hat pulled down low, arm casually draped over the steering wheel. He looked more like a western gangster than a vehicle guard. Ellen could see he was taking his new responsibility very seriously and the studied poses were part of his total image.

"Let's bring the large tripod so I can get the camera as high as possible." She took the computer case, slipping the wide padded strap over her shoulder and let Jamshid take the heavier camera bag with all its handles, straps and bulging outside pockets. I really must clean that out one of these days, she thought. There's probably an extra 10 pounds of stuff that's not needed.

Iraj cheerfully shouldered the long, bulky tripod in its soft vinyl bag.

Once inside the small entrance, the lowest part of the fortress was spacious and wide.

"Wow, this must have housed a huge army," Ellen noted, seeing the rows of living quarters and even larger area devoted to stables, much of which had been restored. The space narrowed to a road leading up at an angle across the face of the inner hill, perhaps a natural rise before all the years of construction. The roadway was blocked by several other wall barriers and narrow arched entries. "An invading army would have had a very difficult time trying to overpower this place."

At the top of the first rise they stopped at the first barrier, looking down inside the lower fortress walls. The wall was divided every 100 yards or so with a large round tower that extended out beyond the walls giving the defenders a clear line of fire to the base of the wall. There were wide walkways behind the waist-high crenellated wall crest supported by the same mud-brick construction of arches, only this time soaring high, maybe three or four stories. Inside, the next inner wall rising up perhaps three times taller than the outer walls and above that, the walls of the actual castle, rising even higher with small, vertical windows near the top.

"Look at this," she amazed. Tall graceful arch structures, built without benefit of wood or stone, marched up the slopes side by side giving the inside of the massive fortress an open, airy feeling. "They were truly masters of their art of building. Later I want to cover all this in detail... but not today. Let's find the top."

As she walked up the smooth roadway inside the second barrier, feeling early sun on her back, she could imagine the thunder of hooves as the defenders of the castle hurried down to lead their troops out to defend the city—and if the city fell— they could fall back behind all their defenses inside the fortress. She had a second image of the thousands of frightened people from the city, panicked, running to the fortress desperate to get inside for protection and the great gate being closed and barred; cruelty and selfishness beyond imagination.

Iraj gave up on the long shoulder straps attached to the tripod and hoisted the bag up on his shoulder. He was already sweating from the heat of the sun.

Ellen began to have a disquieting sense of familiarity as they progressed up the road, stopping several times to point out different areas they should investigate down in the city later. She felt as if she should know what was around the next turn. Of course, she had studied these kinds of structures before; the layout was logical. But usually her job was in the museum working from someone else's photos and notes. She photographed artifacts for publication constantly, but usually in the museum photo studio. This assignment was a favor and a big career opportunity. That's why she jumped on the chance, begging Percy to let her have a go at it. "Otherwise they'll give it to the same old boring men who shoot everything the same. I know I can do a great job!" He had finally given in and she was on her way to the Middle East in less than ten days.

Jamshid led the way as they reached the main upper level. "This is where the king met all his people and they ate here and the food was prepared back over there."

Ellen laughed, "You should be a tour guide."

He smiled. "My father brought me here when I was a boy like his father did before that." The Arge is part of our past. He showed her the large courtyard that faced the large square tower and the stairway that led up into the final level. "Up there, the private rooms for the king and his wives," he said, "The people from down here were not allowed to go up there." He started up.

At the base of the stairs, Ellen without thinking, said, "That's funny. There should have been a large arch and tiles over this."

"Why do you say that?" Jamshid asked, stopping on the thick stone steps, halfway up.

Momentarily puzzled, Ellen said softly, "I don't know. It just felt wrong."

"Miss Ellen!" Iraj called. He was standing beside the entrance to the tower. He called in Farsi to Jamshid who came back down to translate.

"He wants to know if you want to put the camera up on top of the tower?"

"Let's take a look." She went out to the tower which rose up above everything else by several stories. It was white in color; more than whitewash, it was a different material, reflecting bright in the sunlight. Ellen took one look inside the small access door at the twisting narrow steps that led up. "No, that's too cramped for the tripod." She could see up at the top there was only a narrow ledge, just wide enough for a person to walk. "Let's set up out on the terrace to the front. We can get a perfect view of the city from there." She backed out of the opening and headed back to the stairs leaving the boys looking a little startled at her positive decision without seeing the location. "While you're doing that I'll take a look up stairs."

She started up the stairs and for the first time really noticed that they were built of thick stones, worn very smooth with a slight depression where centuries of footsteps had passed. Looking down, Ellen could sense the age of the stone, but at the same time she could see clearly the stone steps being new and highly polished. With each step the sensation increased. She felt pride and a kind of safe solidness from the beautiful assembly of risers and treads. It made her light-headed and disconnected for a moment.

At the top when she stepped back onto the hard clay floor that served the rest of the structure, the feelings quickly faded leaving a clinging film of deja vu floating loose in the back of her mind.

The apartments at the top were light and airy, many walls open to the outside to let the breeze keep the occupants cool. She was drawn to the back, to the north side. "This was her private terrace out here," she whispered to her self. The walls were gone but the base and the deep square bathing pool was still there with a delicate step down into where the water lines were etched into the dry stone. Looking up she could see the river gleaming in the early light with the band of dark green bushes and grass that grew along both banks. The water was muddy and turgid. Beyond the river, the flat, arid desert stretched to another range of hazy lavender mountains. Turning back she thought, there were gardens up here...and little trees. She suddenly felt very hot at the back of her head where her hair was so tightly tied up. Reaching up she pulled the scarf loose and let her hair out, shaking her head to free it. The cool was delicious. She took several steps back toward the pool imagining herself as a queen or high-born princess approaching her morning bath, her scarf floating from one hand. The girl had just finished pouring scalding hot water into the deep blue water to warm it.

Ellen stood for a moment staring down, then realized she was looking at a dry, dirt drifted, empty square. "Of course, the well has dried up, the water table has to be much lower now."

Jamshid was saying, "Miss Ellen, did you say something?"

"What?"

"I thought you said something." He was standing at the edge of the terrace.

"Oh...No, I was just pondering about the water."

"There used to be tunnels."

She looked at him, questioning.

"Going down, deep inside this mountain. My grandfather heard about them, but the story goes that several children were killed down there when the hole collapsed and the men filled it in and bricked over it. Now they don't even know where it was."

She looked back out over the slow-moving river and the green, trying to collect her thoughts. "I thought as much."

"We have the tripod basically set up... out on the front side. You have to show us where you want it."

"Right. Let's get to work." She broke her mood and forced the energy into her step as she walked through the apartments. She reached the top of the stone stairs, suddenly feeling that uncomfortable feeling of being here before, of knowing about this place, just being unsettled. She took a deep breath and hurried down the steps and out into the bright sunlight of the larger front terrace.

She tied the scarf loosely around her neck. "I'm sorry. I just got too hot. I'll put it back before we go back outside the front."

"I think you look beautiful," Jamshid said quietly as he watched her open up the computer case.

She handed him a cable. "Here hold this." Quick thoughts of don't get involved. Don't let this get out of hand. She laughed, making a joke. "Thanks, a lady always likes to get a compliment."

She showed them the cable connections and how to mount the large digital camera onto the tripod. "We'll let Iraj do all the cabling and tripod setup. Jamshid, I will have you do the lenses and set the camera readings. Then you can both learn about the computer as we go along."

A very nervous Iraj actually touched the computer and carefully plugged in the connections to the camera and the external power supply with its little solar panel that clipped on the cover of the case.

"Just turn it toward the light like this," Ellen said, placing the case, "and we're in business."

Iraj asked, and then Jamshid had to ask, "What... In business?"

"I'm sorry. If you translate it literally it means something else. I just meant we are ready to do to work."

She chose a wide angle lens, showing Jamshid how to fit and lock it into the camera shell. "From lens case to camera and back to lens case. Always keep both ends covered with the caps. Remember, dust is our worst enemy." She took it back out of the camera and handed it to him. "Now you put it in."

As it clicked into place he grinned, dark eyes flashing at Ellen. "We are in business"

"Ok, here's how we power up." Iraj, say "Power up."

She showed him each of the switches to flip on and in what order. "Ok, Iraj... power up."

Very slowly he followed her directions, watching the little red flashing LEDs turn green. The computer screen brightened as the operating system took over. Little lights flashed on the camera and it beeped twice.

"By tomorrow, I'll have the translator configured and we can all talk and read everything without a translation, but for today I'll run the computer." She clicked on the camera software with the internal mouse button and waited for it to load in. Moments later a window appeared with a full color view of what the camera was seeing.

While the men watched in amazement she adjusted the camera, focused and brought a wide-angle view of the entire city that lay below them into the monitor window.

"So here goes, this will be our master shot of the whole place." She clicked the camera and the computer captured the shot with the time and date suddenly appearing in the upper border. She typed 'city high view, master shot' and clicked save. "Now with this as a reference, lets shoot twelve close-ups of smaller sections and we'll line them up into a square on this side of the screen."

They began to grasp the procedure and both men were quick to make observations and kept going back to the monitor to compare the shots. Ellen relaxed and began to feel that this job was going to be a pleasure and not as hard as she thought. She checked her watch and was surprised that it was already almost nine A.M.

"Look at the time. We have to warp this up and get back to the front gate before nine-thirty guys."

Jamshid said, "The time goes too fast, I love this!"

"We'll do some more this afternoon. Now, Iraj... watch closely, this is power down."

With everything back in the bags and case, they headed in and down the dirt ramp, with Ellen following the other two. As she left the cool darkness of the interior, she smelled flowers, sweet and fresh... and then a sudden, sharp longing sensation for something...something she couldn't define...or understand.

By the time they arrived back at the hotel, Ellen could hardly remember what could have happened to make her so upset. The walk back down to the Jeep had been dreamlike and strange. Jamshid had to remind her to replace her scarf. She was so silent that the boys thought that she might be upset with them.

"No, no... I just was thinking, I don't know. I guess it's the climb and being the first day and all."

In the hotel lobby, Ellen suddenly realized they had no real place to work. "We can't work in my room and this lobby is too public. It's not quite what the people at the Ministry described."

She was suddenly discouraged. The Jeep couldn't sit in the sun with the computer or cameras in it and she had no work space, her hair was hot and the lobby was too warm from the morning sun, even with the roll-down shades which were green and gave the room an unhealthy cast.

Jamshid ordered pop for everyone, taking two bottles outside to Iraj and Mosein who where sitting in the Jeep until they had something to do.

Coming back to the table, Jamshid sat across from Ellen. "I have an idea. Will you hear my idea?"

A weak smile. "Yes, of course." The cold pop had a bite as she swallowed it.

"We could work at my parents home."

"Oh... I don't think we could impose."

"No, my Mother would love it. It would give her something else to think about besides my Father's death. Besides she is a good cook and then we could eat some real food. Iranian food is really very good..." Again the dark eyes were so sincere.

"Jamshid, it sounds very tempting, but I think you should discuss it with her first."

"Yes, we will ask her... and then we will have to work there, because she will demand that you accept her hospitality."

Ellen leaned forward, both hands holding the pop bottle. "All right, if she says yes, then I will pay her just like I would if we rented a space in town. Especially if we're going to eat her food and use her electricity."

"I will tell her, but I don't think she will accept that idea."

"Well, we'll work out something that's fair... or I won't go. Ok?"

Jamshid was already on his feet. "There is a yard with shade to park the Jeep and I have a table to make for the computer. You will be very happy."

Ellen sat in the Jeep with Iraj and Mosein, pointedly parked under the large, old trees that shaded the driveway inside the walled compound of the Fatahi family home. Light colored brick and dark green, decorative iron work merged with many vines, bushes and trees to make the one-story building and courtyard cool and pleasant.

It was only a few minutes before Jamshid returned to the car with a broad smile.

"Please, everyone, come inside and meet my Mother." As he opened the car door for Ellen, he said quietly, " And please do not say about the money. She will not even listen about this idea. Ok?"

"Thank you, Jamshid. But we will work out something later."

Khanom Fatahi met them just inside the glass and iron-work door; her black chador pulled tight to cover her mouth, leaving only a pair of bright, twinkling eyes. Her greeting was a steady stream of murmured Farsi which Iraj and Mosein returned with something similar.

Jamshid said, "My Mother says, you are welcome in her home, and that I am very impolite to not bring you sooner."

Ellen offered her hand. "Thank you. I'm very pleased to meet you." To Jamshid she almost whispered, "Should I mention I'm sorry about your Father?"

"Oh yes, thank you. I will say." He turned to his mother to offer Ellen's condolences and then something else that caused Khanom Fatahi to reach out and take Ellen's hand, making soft sympathetic sounds.

"I told her about your parents."

"Oh... well thank her or what ever is proper," Ellen said as Jamshid's Mother continued to speak.

"She says you must come inside and sit down and rest while I prepare a work space for you. She will go now and make tea and she will serve lunch later."

"Please, I don't want to cause her to do extra work."

Jamshid laughed as they all deposited their shoes in the entry hall, "No, is good. Now she cannot feel sorry only for herself. Besides my sisters come after school to help her. My sisters will be very happy that our Mother has some new work to think about."

Lunch was served outside under the trees in the back garden. The boys consumed plate-fulls of rice with a delicate meat sauce on the side. There was a green salad which, as Jamshid explained, had been washed very thoroughly with boiled water.

"You see, we had an English gentleman living with us for nearly a year when I was in high school. My mother learned a great deal about foreign stomachs."

"Was the Englishman a teacher?"

"No, he worked with my father on the history books. They were translating from Farsi to English for an English edition of Persian history. His name was Alfred L. Millington."

"With all that, your Mother must understand a little English."

"Don't be fooled." Jamshid said with a smile, "She understands much English words, she just will not speak."

"Then we have to get her voice registered on the translator so the computer can speak for her." The dishes were cleared away and tea and fresh oranges were served. Iraj showed Ellen how to cut the skin like a lotus that peeled neatly down with points like a star.

She asked about the old city, the Arge. "In the history do they know who founded it?"

Jamshid said, "No, I do not think so. There is a record of old rulers and little kings, but there was not anything about the first one in my father's books."

With that, Khanom Fatahi quickly stood, saying, "Moment," and went into the house.

"Maybe my Mother knows something more." He gathered the fruit plates and knives into a pile as Khanom Fatahi returned carrying a very worn spiral notebook with many pieces of extra paper clipped to the cover and inside the pages. She pressed the book into Jamshid's hands showing him a page in the book she wanted him to read to Ellen.

Jamshid studied if for a moment. "My Father's handwriting is very difficult. Let me see..." He read slowly.

"There is some evidence, not fact, that original mountain was a religious temple... or for a religious group who helped local people with iron weapons, that is swords, and saved the people from Hittite invasion. Some stories say they were worshiped as gods, but there is no fact record. The only use of hard stone for building is from that very early time and there are no other signs like carvings or pottery. Whoever was there first, disappeared without a trace. My Father estimated the time was three to four thousand years ago."

"That is something. And it certainly helps with the dating." She turned, "Thank you, Khanom Fatahi! It was very useful information."

Back inside, with Iraj learning each step, Ellen set up the color printer, the larger flat monitor and a scanner. Then with the computer up and running from the power box and the batteries all on the charger, she went to work. The wide angle view of the Arge taken from the high terrace appeared on the big monitor and with the boy's help and much pointing and discussion, she drew in the 12 sections they were going to use to divide the work days.

A few minutes later they were all watching a full-color version with all the division lines emerge from the printer.

Looking at the high resolution quality of the print as close-ups of each of the sections were being printed, Jamshid said, "I think everything I have learned about printing in the darkroom is not good."

"Oh yes it is," Ellen said seriously. "Darkroom prints from negative film are going to be reserved for the very best, fine-art photographs. Its like the difference between movie films and television. Even on HDTV the movie films look better than television productions."

"I know you are right, but I still have very much to learn." He laid the prints out so everyone could see them.

Ellen began setting up the translator program just as Jamshid's two sisters returned from school. The girls wore chador but did not cover their faces like their more traditional mother. The older, Parvin, was fourteen and Nadere was twelve. Both girls were delighted with the idea of an English-speaking visitor and proceeded to speak in a very British accented, textbook English.

"I am so delighted to meet you," from Parvin.

"I am so pleased to make your acquaintance," said Nadere in a high musical voice.

"And I'm happy to meet you both." To Jamshid she said, "I think your English house guest must have had something to do with their education."

Parvin came to stand close to Ellen and said very confidentially, "You must excuse our Mama. About some things she is very old fashioned."

"Your Mama," she said repeating the French pronunciation, "is a lovely person," and in a whisper, "and a very gracious hostess."

Jamshid sent the girls, protesting, to help their mother.

Iraj and Mosein, with cowboy hat in hand, were very reserved in front of the girls and extremely polite as they stood to say goodbye. Ellen couldn't help compare this attitude of mutual respect that was so totally lacking in the United States. When she was student teaching and her first year as a high school counselor she had seen and experienced such terrible behavior and threatening incidents that she had given notice before her second year and jumped back into the job market searching for a job in a quiet, safe museum.

"Now, I think we're ready to do the voice registration for the translator. There is a microphone built into the computer, so all you have to do is speak toward it."

They gathered around the table as Jamshid explained in Farsi.

"Jamshid first," Ellen said, indicating he should sit in the chair in front of the laptop.

"All you have to do is say, 'Hello, my name is Jamshid Fatahi.'"

Looking a little nervous, he brushed his dark hair off is forehead, leaned forward and said, "Hello, my name is Jamshid Fatahi."

"Good! Now it knows who you are and will call you by name if we wish." Looking at the others, she said, "See, its very easy. Now, Iraj, come and do the same, only speak in Farsi."

Iraj sat hesitantly as Jamshid urged him to speak.

"Man Iraj hastam," he said, looking embarrassed and turning to Ellen to see if he had done all right.

"Perfect! Now, Mosein..."

Mosein did not falter. He slid into the chair and eagerly and loudly proclaimed, "Man Mosein hastam!"

"No doubt about that, young man." Looking up, she said, "Jamshid? Do you think we can get your Mother to come and speak for us?"

Khanom Fatahi had obviously been listening. She appeared in the doorway, eyes shining.

"Khanom Fatahi, will you come and say your name for the computer. Then we can make it translate for you... and then you and I can talk about Jamshid," Ellen said with a smile.

She didn't protest or say a word, simply walked in, sat down and with a secret smile to Ellen as she released the Chador from her face, spoke toward the computer in very clear English, "Hello...My name is Puri Gazak e Fatahi"

Jamshid looked surprised as his mother stood speaking to him in Farsi as she left the room.

My Mother says to thank you for knowing that she is not... old fashioned woman."

"You should make a point of telling your sister."

Ellen activated the co-language choice and let the machine reboot. "Now let's see what we've got." She pulled down the first menu and there it was... English on the left, Farsi Arabic on the right. The list of voices included everyone's first name in both languages. She instructed the computer to recognize all voices and said, "Now Jamshid will not have to say everything twice." And immediately the computer in a voice very similar to Ellen's said, "Hala Jamshid lazim hafe-ha-ra dobahre behgeh."

Mosein's eyes got very big as he said, "Computer-reh Farsi khub harf mizeneh!"

And the computer replied, in a voice similar to Mosein's, "This Computer speaks Farsi very good!"

There was a round of delighted laughter and cheers to which the computer said, "I am sorry, please repeat the last statement."

"The only thing you must remember is that only one person can speak at a time and you cannot use contractions or slang expressions because it will not understand." The computer immediately repeated Ellen's statement in Farsi with her voice.

Jamshid said, "It is too amazing, Miss Ellen. Thank You."

Every time someone spoke, everyone looked at the computer to see what it would say.

"You should speak a little slower and enunciate. If you go too fast it will tell you," Ellen cautioned.

The sampling program produced each of their voices as close as the technology allowed making it easy to know who said what. Ellen let the three men spend the next hour speaking and listening and laughing at mistakes. She thought they all would be speaking each other's languages in a very short time.

Close to five o'clock. they loaded up the computer, cameras and a box of fresh fruit and cookies that Khanom Fatahi insisted were necessary for their survival. As they drove out the gate of the courtyard, Jamshid said to Ellen, "I can bring the jeep here at night to keep it locked inside the yard. It is better than outside the hotel."

"I agree. I was worried about that. Thank You."

She sat back in the seat watching Iraj drive, thinking, this is going so well. I don't know why I was so concerned.

FORTRESS

The unhappy girl locked them inside the Arge with the promise that she would return at seven P.M. to let them out. Iraj and Mosein had already charted their first section to the left of the front entrance. Iraj drove directly to the farthest north-west corner of the area. Ellen was out immediately looking at the various buildings and ruins to see where the first setup would be.

The first time she stopped to look up at the fortress with its layers of walls and the white tower turning golden in the late afternoon light, there was again that deep longing eating away at her subconscious. She couldn't define it. It was just there.

Mosein was watching her and as she turned back, he said and odd thing, which was instantly translated by the newly powered computer. "It was not always like that. There are many changes."

"What do you mean, Mosein?"

The translation delay was like holding her breath.

"I mean before. Before all the walls... there was just the tower."

"Yes, it's possible that the tower is much older."

"She would stand up there to say goodbye to the sun." He stood looking up toward the fortress.

The conversation had the sense of taking place in slow motion. Each statement had to be heard and thought about. "Who do you mean?"

Mosein shook his head. "I do not know... Just the one who came first... I do not know." His look to Ellen was serious.

Jamshid interrupted, "Are you ready for the camera?"

Glad to be brought back to the work at hand, Ellen moved decisively and selected an angle on a house with two walls intact framed by a still-standing front door opening.

They worked as a team, Ellen moving ahead with Mosein to chose the next shot or angle. Then he would run back and direct Iraj where to move the Jeep. The computer was set up in the back with the Jeep door folded down. Jamshid sat on the edge and rode holding the camera and tripod. In a matter of minutes the camera was ready for another setup. Iraj would say in his careful English, "Ok, we're back in business, Miss Ellen!" The computer would then translate back to Farsi sending everyone into whoops of laughter.

When they were close to the computer, Mosein explained that he had been coming to the Arge almost every day for the past year exploring every nook and cranny. He didn't exactly steal from the tourists, but they did usually offer to pay for someone to watch their vehicle. Sometimes he got paid to guide people around, but more often he earned a few rials to show them a way out.

"Watch the time Jamshid. We don't want to be locked in here all night," she warned as the Jeep was moved for the tenth or eleventh setup.

Ellen showed Iraj and Jamshid how to use reflectors to bounce a stray beam of fast-disappearing sunlight up into a dark corner or underside of an arched ceiling. The images on the computer screen looked wonderful; sharp details of intricate brick work, whole walls with borders and panels intact, pieces of tile on floors and wide portraits of entire houses.

They wrapped up at six-forty-five and headed for the front entrance and their rendezvous with the unhappy girl.

ELLEN'S DREAM

The changeable night wind was blowing, the moon, a sliver of pure, cold white. She could barely see the edge of the garden where the low wall perched on the edge of the cliff. Sleep had evaporated in a tangle of dreams. She walked slowly across the broad terrace in front of the tower. The dreams had troubled her.

She was flying high over the dark earth...the voice of Takonem was reaching to her, calling her back from where she had come. Every time she tried to turn, to fly back to his insistent need, the wind ripped at her, violent gusts of stinging air that drove her further and further away. Then she was falling, no longer in the claws of the wind. A solid mass of sky breath pressed her down, harder, faster. The blackness below a giant, dripping wet, gaping mouth of the crocodile riding on the back of the monstrous hippopotamus, the goddess Tueris. She knew that such gods did not exist but at this moment, plunging into fear, it was there... waiting and hungry for her broken flesh. Then she was awake, like a glass goblet dropped on a stone floor, shattering into a gasp for breath, skin burning hot behind her knees, the light wool coverlet snarled around her feet and legs.

She shivered as the wind cooled her sweat-damp skin. The stones on the path were cold on her bare feet as she walked out to the wall, light-colored against the black nothing of the night beyond, and stood with the warmth of the smooth plaster of the wall against her thighs and hips; comforting pressure. Here at the edge she could feel the damp air filled with the scent of moss and leaves and ripe mud that drifted, clinging to the rugged face of the cliff, as it swept up from the river far below,

This place felt strange. It was raw and starkly new. It was alien. Even the very air felt different... harsh and threatening. Not anything, even down to the tiniest detail was like home, blessed Egypt where there was a sense of ageless belonging, smooth and solid from a thousand years of civilization. The very presence of the land was part of her. But here? No one had ever lived here. There was no one before her. She felt so small and inadequate—-more like the six year old standing among the dead and dying than the woman she was expected to be. This wilderness where she had agreed to live, to attempt his wishes, did not even know she was alive. It blew its winds over and through her as if she did not exist.

"Kara?" A familiar voice, soft on the wind.

"Kara? Could you not sleep? I felt you were troubled. I came to see if you are in need of a friend."

He came out of the darkness to stand beside her at the wall, looking out, breathing the night, not speaking. He knew words were not needed. He always knew what would comfort her, what would give her strength.

Takonem had warned her. He had told her—emphasized very strongly—that this place and the work here would be difficult. The most impossible challenge of her young life.

Not simple enduring like when she was a child of six, so hungry and miserable in an unending string of days and nights. Her mother dragged screaming into the firelight. Men's loud, lust-driven, drunken voices drove her into dark corners, hiding—waiting with a gnawing stomach for the woman who would never return. Then the fighting and the terrible cries and the soldiers—swords slashing and stabbing—blood running, bright red in the sunlight. No dark corners to hide. Stand. Silent... so small among the blood-drenched dead.

Then he had come. Narthbenka, tall, elegant, with his gentle, healing hands; lifting her up close to his dark, Nubian face; whispering that she would be safe. In all her six years of life, she had never known kindness. He was her savior, this Narthbenka with his warm brown eyes and his deep voice that almost purred as he spoke to her about where they were going and what she would learn. Before this, no one had spoken directly to her, recognized her as a person, told her what words mean and why things were the way they were. Like the lotus opening to the warmth of the sun, she began to become a part of the living world.

The days on the great boat with the sails snapping in the wind or the oars lifting and glistening as the waters of the Nile fell back into the water of life, were the happiest, most fantastic memories Kara possessed—secret treasures she could pull up to relive the intense pleasure of being safe, not hungry, and yes... even loved. Just the feeling of his presence beside her was enough. The belief in her own self flowed back from the dark recess where she tried to push it.

Finally she spoke, knowing that he would have waited most of the night. "I'm sorry. I still must fight the demons of doubt that slip into my dreams"

"I too fight those demons. In that you are not alone." His voice, as always, was soft and deep.

She looked back out into the night. "After you left Heliopolis to come here I was more alone in my fears and short-comings. I could not speak about myself with Master Takonem. My fears are insignificant compared to what he must be facing."

"I know." He turned, leaning back against the wall looking up toward the tower and the stars beyond. "I'm sorry I was not there to support you in your final year of training. I know it was difficult, but Iunubam had to be built. We have to be ready." Heels of his hands pressed against his eyes. "And as you have seen... there is much to do. Even after a year of work."

"Oh, Brother Narthbenka, I did not mean to bring more problems to you. My coming here is to help you and I have sworn on my life to do that. Please forgive me."

He turned to her, laughing. "Kara, my dear child. You are the answer to many prayers. You have brought the power of the firestone with you and now all our work will grow easier... and any problems you have will be shared with your sister and brother Initiates. We will all struggle together with this great challenge our Master has given us.

"Thank you. Deep down I know and understand that. I just need a few days to adjust to how different everything is."

"We all share the longing for our beloved Egypt. And believe me, it doesn't go away." He moved back toward the building behind them. Now, I'm going to return to my bed and I suggest you do the same. Your sun will be coming before you realize. "

"Thank you, Brother." She suddenly felt the chill of the night air and moved quickly toward the arched entrance over the stairway to the women's quarters.

As she climbed the stairs the bricks felt rough and uneven. She whispered to herself, "This is something I've got to fix very soon." She slipped silently past the servant's room and down the long hall where one small oil lamp was left burning, past Yuya's room and out onto the rear terrace where her room faced. Kara slipped under the wool cover, pulling it tight under her chin and comforted by the warmth, fell asleep. The sheer, linen curtains lifted in a sudden change of wind and then settled back into the slashes of cold moonlight.           (To Intro Page)

Copyright © 2000 by Gale Peterson