The Good That Men Do - Andy Mangels [20]
A second telepathic voice intruded then, and Shran immediately realized that this one was being mentally broadcast to everyone gathered in the room.
It was clear to Shran that the originator of this thought-stream was the white-robed woman who stood facing Jhamel and the other three members of her shelthreth party; Shran recognized her at once as Lissan, one of the Aenar people’s most respected leaders.
“My dear friends,” Lissan said wordlessly to the dozens of blind, silent, and eagerly attentive Aenar telepaths who stood around the shelthreth party in a broad ring, their collective breath rising toward the cavern ceiling in delicately curling pillars of ivory-hued vapor. “We have gathered to witness the joining of these four kindred souls in the bonds of shelthreth , the honored, sacred estate established in earliest antiquity by Uzaveh the Infinite, the omniscient and omnipotent creator of the world. As Uzaveh instituted the Great Joining that brought together the wisdom of Charaleas, the strength of Zheusal, the love of Shanchen, and the passion of Thirizaz to form the First Kin, so, too, do we sanctify today the shelthreth of these four.”
Shran allowed a small smile to cross his lips as he recognized the ancient names, familiar to him from the bedtime tales and devotions of his youth. He found it gratifying to discover that the similarities between the Aenar and Andorian peoples seemed to extend even to the ancient myths that made up the very underpinnings of their respective cultures.
Shran suddenly noticed that Lissan had lapsed into telepathic silence, her pause filled by a soundless, psionic murmur of approval that rolled across the dozens of onlookers like a wave. Shran assumed that the sheer positive intensity of these sentiments had ensured that his own decidedly nontelepathic brain could receive them.
Lissan motioned to one of the two Aenar males of the shelthreth group, a young man whose white ceremonial attire was not unlike that of Jhamel. He stepped forward, his milky, sightless eyes fixed directly ahead, his expression frozen in ancient ceremonial solemnity. He was of the same sex as Shran- a thaan- and appeared to be about Jhamel’s age, approximately fifteen years Shran’s junior.
“Anitheras th’Lenthar,” Lissan said, “will you become Whole, entering the blessed state of shelthreth with your entire heart and soul?”
The young man, whom Shran knew better as Theras, telepathically recited words steeped in age-old ritual as he took a step toward Lissan. “I will, without reservation or hesitation.”
“Onalishenar ch’Sorichas,” Lissan continued, addressing the other young male of the quartet with the same query. Shenar responded in the same manner that Theras had; he gently took Theras’s hand, his blind face refulgent with a look of almost religious ecstasy.
“Lahvishri sh’Ralaavazh,” Lissan continued, asking the ancient shelthreth question yet again. Vishri, the stolid young woman who stood beside the taller, more slender figure of Jhamel, stepped forward, recited the ritual words in turn, and joined hands with Shenar.
“Thirijhamel zh’Dhaven,” Lissan said, prompting Jhamel to step toward her three bondmates and telepathically recite the time-honored words. He hoped that the spirit of her brother Gareb was somewhere near, perceiving the proceedings by whatever means the Aenar departed might have at their disposal.
Even in the cavern’s low illumination, Shran found Jhamel’s innocent beauty gently awe-inspiring, and more than a little humbling. At that moment, he pitied the entire Aenar race for being unable to see her in quite the same way he did.
Get a good look at her, Shran, he told himself, while carefully schooling his mind to keep a low enough profile so as not to be casually overheard, least of all by Jhamel herself. You won’t be seeing much of her anymore. He tried