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Once the hradar were no different from the Soulless Ones or the beasts, and had no souls.  But the First-Souled One, who we call the father of the fathers of Rukhmar Hand, journeyed to the place of Tshuraq, keeper of the secrets of Tsai, and bargained with him the secret of making souls. And the tale of the First-Souled One is very long, but told briefly it is this:

 

The father of the fathers of Rukhmar Hand heard the wind blowing across the stones, and it seemed to him that he heard a voice, saying, ‘your life is as water pissed out onto the sand.’ And the father of the fathers of Rukhmar Hand was troubled, knowing then that each night lived was a lost forever, and that when the sum of nights had been counted there would be no more eating or drinking, loving or telling of tales; for the flesh goes back to Tsai, and the life goes where the flame goes when the fire is put out.

The father of the fathers of Rukhmar Hand went to the west, to the abode of Khashai amid the black mountains. He made sacrifices there, and told the goddess he sought a way to hold his life and the lives of his people, that they might not be as water pissed out on the sand. And Khashai smiled upon the father of the fathers of Rukhmar Hand with her great black eyes like dnari pearls, and when she spoke her voice was as ninehundred nines of rustling spears. ‘I will make this bargain with you, little hradar; bring to me a certain prince of the fish-men, who I will make known to you, and in return you may dwell in my palace forever, and busy yourself always in worship of me. I will make you imperishable, like the stone that is in the hearts of the mountains, so that you will never die.’   The father of the fathers of Rukhmar Hand thanked Khashai, and fled her presence, for he did not wish to be a flame held in a jar of glass, which may be broken at any moment by a wanton god.

The father of the fathers of Rukhmar Hand went to the south, to the abode of Tahurih among the noisy streams. He danced there in her sacred place, and told the goddess he sought a way to hold his life and the lives of his people, that they might not be as water pissed out on the sand.  And Tahurih stretched herself out before him, fierce and beautiful like a sandstorm pursuing the sun, and the scent of her was as ninehundred nines of newly quickened women.  ‘Why do you bother yourself about tomorrow and tomorrow, little hradar? Come and lie with me. Small life should beget small life, generation after generation, to fill the seas with brine shrimp and the air with flies, the sand with beetles and the cities of Tsai with men. If all these lives were to be remembered, where would the gods keep them? And how could we tell one from another? What is stretched out befor eyou is sweeter than any ngadh dreamed of by men of the hradar, little one; come and taste, and I will set a fire in your musheghun, so that you will beget such hradaras never have yet been begotten.’ The father of the fathers of Rukhmar Hand thanked Tahurih, and fled her presence, for he knew that men are not made for the love of Tahurih, nor did he wish to live forever as seed only, dumb and unknowing in the marrow of his children’s children.

 

The father of the fathers of Rukhmar Hand went to the north, to the abode of Mthai and Thrai, where the mountains reach up so far that the air is thick with cold. He prayed the prayers to Mthai and Thrai that he had heard the great-souled ones whisper of, and he told the gods he sought a way to hold his life and the lives of his people, that they might not be as water pissed out on the sand. And the two gods spoke, and they were as two mountains speaking, colder and harder and heavier than any other voices, and it was as though the sun and all the stars had perished forever. ‘To do such things is easy for us, for we are the gods of Tsai whose names are feared beyond all other names. If we willed it, you and your children and all hradar might be preserved, generation after generation, and not be blown into nothingness as smoke in the wind.’ Mthai told the father of the fathers of Rukhmar Hand that he would give to him a  watcher, who would ride upon him like a child might ride on a ghraik, and share blood with blood, and thought with thought, and remember everything that he remembered. And Thrai told the father of the fathers of Rukhmar Hand that when his flesh was stilled the watcher would remain, and would pass on all that it remembered to them, the two great gods of the north, and they would remember it always, and make for him a new body of imperishable stone. And Mthai said then that if that body came to an end after the passing of many ages of Tsai, they could make another and another, until the time of Tsai’s ending. And Thrai said then that the watcher they made would make other watchers, to ride upon all the hradar, and their descendants after them, until the time of Tsai’s ending.  The father of the fathers of Rukhmar Hand thanked Mthai and Thrai, and fled their presence, for he had remembered why it is that the hradar do not worship those gods.

 

Then at last the father of the fathers of Rukhmar Hand went to the east, to the mountain that is called the Sentinel, from whose summit he could see the plain of shifting glass at the end of the world. There dwells Tshuraq, in her room of nine ninehundreds of boxes, where all the secrets of Tsai are held.  The father of the fathers of Rukhmar Hand answered the nine riddles of Tshuraq, and he told the goddess he sought a way to hold his life and the lives of his people, that they might not be as water pissed out on the sand.

Then Tshuraq proposed a bargain to the father of the fathers of Rukhmar Hand, and the First-Souled One agreed to it.  Tshuraq taught the father of the fathers of Rukhmar Hand how to make a soul, and how to place it in any kind of man that he might be remembered, and the secrets of unmaking a soul and of making a soul straight when it had been made crooked. There are different stories of what the bargain is that was made, and I do not know which is the true one. I know that one is taught in the men’s ghir with the men’s secrets, and that one is taught in the women’s ghir with the women’s secrets, and I have heard it told differently again by a young woman of the Hred Kholo tribe at the Bowl of Gharmor, and by Sahasluk of the Zalamanah.  But all tell that it was a great sacrifice that the First-Souled One made, and it is right to look up to the yellow goer-round in the northern sky, where he dwells, and speak thanks to him.