The Barren Land
The Shepherd, Book I
A Novel by Jeffrey B. Linn
All Rights Reserved

Chapter IX

"They claim to be sent of the Shepherd," the priestess continued. "This is well and good, but are we not all in our own way 'sent' of the Shepherd?" She paused, and there must have been something in her expression, for I saw a change come over a few of the faces in the crowd. Even from behind, her words had a peculiar, engaging quality, so that I felt that I, too, was being drawn in. "Implied in this claim is not only that the blessed force of Bios is not all, but really that she is nothing at all." In this, I noticed a darkening of some countenances, though her voice remained pleasant. "That we who hold to her are grasping at dust," and in a breathy, distracted tone she added, "or something even more corrupt."

Now a palpable tension suffused the assembly. I noticed hands covertly reaching beneath cloaks.

The gatekeeper inclined toward us and rasped, "She is a sorceress! If we do not act immediately we will be shortly dead. Anyone?"

Hesitantly mentor rose and approached the podium. "Pardon," he said to the priestess. She turned and displayed a look of demented triumph. "On the authority of the Name of the Shepherd," mentor pronounced, "I smite your voice." She froze, and after a moment her expression assumed a child-like, bewildered aspect. She searched around, as if for something she had lost. Eventually she found her way to the empty chair next to the two-headed fellow. As if on cue, he stood and moved rapidly to the center of the dais. There was an assuredness about him that communicated authority, and his realistic double oddly did not detract from this, but rather contributed to an illusion of wisdom.

He gestured to the assemblage. When they had quieted, he commenced his oration. "The duality," he said with deliberate tones. He paused and began again, "The duality accepts all and embraces none." The edge of malice I had felt from the crowd seemed then to dull. I observed a hand slowly retrieve from beneath a robe--empty. "Distazo teaches us that all beings are a blend. The two forces of nature exist in everyone, so that none are entirely good nor entirely evil." As he continued I sensed a treachery more potent than the previous attempt. The audience was now totally calm, one or two faces even appeared smug. "Because we hold to this truth, we fear no word of doctrine. For all that these men, or anyone, can utter is such a mixture." He was innoculating their ears against anything that might move them to action. "Thus all teachings are a divertissement of the moment, and not at all a reason for concern." With this he suddenly chuckled and then motioned broadly to the gatekeeper. I could see that many of the townspeople shared his mirth.

The gatekeeper eyed Bhrata solemnly. "Now is your moment," he said.

The man in the jerkin rose and and strode resolutely to the podium. "So much theory today!" he began with compelling earnestness. "But I speak not entertaining sophistry, but from real experience. The Shepherd is a Man, and you may know him as a friend. He, and no other power, can rescue you from this wasteland between worlds." His words were confident, their import incontrovertible. "And you know, if you are sincere, that to tarry here will forever snare you in the world of the dragon." He held out his hand in invitation, leaning out over the podium. "Come, meet the Shepherd." It was an impassioned offer. I realized then that I had misjudged Bhrata terribly.

They were the most powerful words I had ever heard. For a few moments the patch of sky above us visibly changed from gray to azure and the air briefly smelled of green leaves and grass. As Bhrata lingered on the dais, holding out his plea, I noticed understanding break out on several faces.

The gatekeeper leaned toward mentor. "It seems that Bhrata will become a shepherd today."

"You will lose your finest liberator," mentor replied.

"Gladly, I will, for today there is a lighthouse in Alazoneia."

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