The Cycle of Wisdom
{{#ifeq: | | {{#ifeq: Bad Guru | |
{{#ifeq: Bad Guru | ||
Author: Bad Guru
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{{#ifeq: Bad Guru | |
Author: Bad Guru |
Author: Bad Guru
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{{#ifeq: Bad Guru | |
{{#ifeq: Bad Guru | | Authors: ' |
Authors: Bad Guru
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{{#ifeq: Bad Guru | |
Authors: Bad Guru |
Author: Bad Guru
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}} {{#if:| — see also [[:Category:{{{category}}}|other works by this author]]}}
Stephen realised too late that he had travelled beyond the limits of his understanding. But the modern world, the rational world, had never held much interest for him, and he had looked beyond it as soon as he became aware that somewhere might even exist. People were surprised when he of all people spent his life striving to look beyond - to peer around corners, to question the unquestioned - for it was true that life appeared to have been very kind to him. He was handsome, healthy, intelligent and young, and his family was a wealthy one. But in truth, having all these gifts was in part his spur - for, having them so easily, he knew how little they were truly worth, and was able to move on in his quest for deeper things.
He took easily to mysticism when he encountered it, and gradually began to leave behind the modern world, the rational world. (This is surprisingly easy to do if you truly wish it.) And yet he made one error - to assume that to do so was the culmination of wisdom, rather than an early step along that path.
So it was that he came to the small town in the wasteland, along paths untrodden by waking minds. Still a sun of some kind beat down upon his head, and he was glad to arrive at his destination. He found himself wearing a dusty beige jacket and trousers, a pale blue shirt and a pair of shoes. There was a bag over his shoulder, though not an oppressively heavy one.
There was a fountain in the town square and he paused to slake his thirst. The people were clearly used to the arrival of strangers, even from lands as exotic and distant as his own. The men and women who lived here seemed normal enough, though he knew that could be nothing more than a trick of perception, and that they might see him as something quite different to his true shape.
He approached one of them, an old man resting in the shade. "Excuse me."
The man peered up at Stephen. "I hear you."
"I... is there a wise man in your town? A seer, a priest?"
"What do you want from a wise man?"
Stephen couldn't help smiling as he gave his rather hackneyed response. "Wisdom."
"You must have some yourself, to be here at all. You seek deeper truths?"
"Whatever I can find."
"I know only one. A man may see only so much of life through a single window."
"Change my perspective, is that what you mean?" Stephen had hoped for something more fulfilling. "I have already abandoned the life I was born into."
"You can do more," the old man said. "Nothing is fixed in this realm. Change everything you can about yourself and you may yet discover true wisdom."
"How can I do that?"
"There is a place. Leave this town along the north road. Travel for a week and then strike west towards the mountains..."
Cliffs of red and yellow stone towered above Stephen on either side, dwarfing the trees that grew at their base. He made his way carefully along the path, hoping he had not gone astray. He believed he had not, had taken what he believed to be good notes of the townsman's instructions. If this were true, he should reach his destination soon.
As instructed, he had bought two canteens from the town market, and both now hung over his shoulder. His guide had given no reason for this - the road and this trail were both well-watered, and one should have been sufficient. But Stephen was wise enough to at least be obedient in these matters.
The trail descended, the ground falling away towards the base of the cliffs. Shadows seemed to close in around Stephen as he walked. At the base of the cliffs, he had been told, he would find what he sought - and its keeper.
The base of the cliffs was now in sight. The stone was stained by the water flowing down its face. There was an overhang just at the bottom, forming a very tiny waterfall - not much more than a rivulet falling not much more than the height of a man. The pool beneath was hardly even that.
Stephen looked around. There was no sign of civilisation and certainly no keeper. The water must be what he had been sent to find. he unstoppered one of his canteens and stooped over the pool.
"The water loses its power of change when it touches the ground."
The voice sounded immeasurably old and dry. Stephen looked around and could see no one - only a large, reddish brown snake lying coiled in the branches of one of the trees.
"I'm sorry?" Stephen said.
"You must take the water from the air, before it touches the ground, if you are to gain what you seek." The voice definitely came from the snake.
"Thank you. Are you the keeper of this place?"
"I am."
"I was told you would have other wisdom for me."
"You seek to change yourself to the uttermost degree?"
"I - I suppose I do," Stephen said, smiling at the beast.
The snake did not smile back, but that was hardly surprising, Stephen thought. " You must drink of the water three times, each time a week and a day apart. To drink more than this is death."
"I understand."
"You need not stay here, though. You may carry the water away with you."
"Where should I go ?"
"Return to the main road and guide your steps towards the temple at Uldath. Know you of it?"
"I can learn," Stephen said. "Thank you."
"Remember. Only through unmaking yourself entirely can you approach true wisdom. You may drink of the water now."
The snake slithered away into the shadow of the tree's upper branches. Stephen turned back to the waterfall, held his cupped hands out into it. Gradually they filled with cold, clear water, with nothing to distinguish it from that he'd drunk on his journey. He put all doubts aside and brought his hands to his mouth.
How to describe the workings of such deep things? He felt things deep within him subtly alter and shift in their alignment. A deep sense of satisfaction and contentment settled upon him. He looked down at himself and saw no real signs of change, but he was confident that they would come - if not soon, then with his next draught of the water. He held his second canteen beneath the waterfall until it overflowed, then capped it.
Then, as the sun was setting and the water seemed to have instilled a great drowsiness in him, he took off his clothes and slept by the waterfall.
And in the morning he found that he had indeed changed in his physical appearance. His clothes felt slightly large upon him, and the hair upon his chest, arms, and legs had thinned considerably. Most noticeable of all, his hair - which had previously been respectably cut and a light shade of brown - was now a dark shade of blonde and fell to his collar, curling somewhat as it did.
Excited by these changes in him, though not yet fully appreciating what they meant, Stephen started his journey back to the main north road. Around his waist he twined a piece of cord, and each day he tied a knot in it, knowing that when there were eight, it would be time for him to drink again of the water in his special canteen.
His hair continued to grow, both longer and lighter, and it seemed to him that his body grew slighter as well - though at a less accelerated rate. Soon he began to tie his hair back in a pony tail, and had to stop wearing his shoes, which were now much too big for his feet. Luckily the trail was not too rough nor too hot to walk barefoot.
After a few days he was back on the north road, and he fell into the company of a hunter, a grave young man of immense skill with a bow. Stephen was glad of the company and sensed the hunter was as well - but he was of a taciturn people who did not like to speak of their emotions, and were even reluctant to give their names. But he was a good companion and shared freely of what he had.
After a day or two Stephen could tell the hunter had noticed the odd changes in his appearance even in just a short period, but his code prevented him from asking about them directly. As they sat down to eat that night he decided to volunteer the information.
"I know you have noticed the changes in my hair since we have travelled together," Stephen began.
"Also in your face and body," the hunter said.
Stephen hadn't been aware of those himself. "Oh. Well, I am on a - a quest for wisdom, and I hope to find it by - by becoming a different person. My body is transforming into that of someone new."
"Is your mind also transforming?"
Stephen blinked. "I don't know. Perhaps. I must continue with the process soon. The changes may become more extreme. If you wish for us to part company, then I will understand."
The hunter shook his head. "It does not concern me, if you are comfortable. Tell me - is this why you walk unshod?"
"My shoes grew too big for me," Stephen said. "I had to leave them behind."
The next morning he found the hunter had fashioned for him a simple pair of leather moccasins. He had grown accustomed to going barefoot but he was glad to have them, and touched by the young man's generosity. But such things were common between travellers in that realm.
As they travelled north together the land grew drier and the temperature greater. Stephen took off his jacket and constantly walked with it folded over his arm.
"It will grow no colder between here and Uldath, Stephen," the hunter said as they walked. He himself wore only a loincloth, vest, and sandals. "You will not need that garment before you reach there."
"I - I see," Stephen said. He looked at it. You must unmake yourself entirely, he thought, abandon all traces of your former life. Clothing would surely be the least of it. He hung the jacket on a branch of the next tree they passed and left it behind without looking back.
Eight knots had appeared on the cord he wore around his waist. He felt a tingle of excitement and anticipation all throughout that day, knowing the next phase of his transformation was about to begin. Who would he become? Who would he be the next day?
After they had made their camp and eaten, Stephen carefully unstoppered the second canteen and lifted it to his mouth. The water tasted as fresh and delicious as it had a week earlier. Again, he felt strange forces at work within him - not just within his body but within his whole reality as a living creature, a living mind. He put the stopper back into the canteen and took a moment to enjoy the sensations racing through him. His companion was already asleep and he felt drowsiness descend upon him again.
In the morning his golden hair now stretched down almost to his waist, and he could feel a new delicacy in the bones of his face - his hands too, come to that. Almost all the hair had vanished from his body. His joints felt subtly altered as well.
"You changed much more than usual last night," the hunter said.
"I know," Stephen said, and blinked. His voice had risen in pitch and softened. He got to his feet, and found the cuffs of his trousers now reached down over his feet. They felt loose around the waist as well. He rolled them up to mid-calf and smiled a little sheepishly at the hunter.
They continued with their journey. Stephen unknotted the cord he wore around his waist and started again from scratch. Another eight before he could complete his transformation. But who would he become?
The passing of time as they travelled through the increasingly barren landscape was marked not just by the accumulation of knots in the cord, but a tightening of the cord as his waist began to dwindle. He was becoming smaller and slighter in every respect. His old shirt, at least, presented him with few difficulties, but the hassle of simply keeping his trousers up and not tangling around his feet became increasingly irritating.
Stephen found himself envying the briefer and more practical clothing his companion wore, found himself casting envious glances at the hunter's bare arms, legs, and chest, and the well-defined muscles there. He found himself stealing glances whenever he thought his companion would not notice it, and as he did so he found in himself a little prickle of excitement that he could not explain. He was also aware that the hunter himself seemed to have developed something of a fascination with Stephen's altered form. Well, that was natural enough.
And then Stephen began to find his body not just dwindling but starting to alter in other, more surprising ways. His waist stayed tiny, but his hips appeared to be widening, and there was a swell and roundness to his buttocks that seemed to fundamentally alter their shape. That was odd enough, but he began to be aware of the cloth of his shirt rubbing against his chest in a way he simply hadn't before.
When they stopped for the first time after he became aware of this, Stephen took himself aside from the hunter and unbuttoned his shirt. He found that his nipples had doubled in width, and each now sat atop a tiny saucer of soft, sensitive flesh. He took a deep breath. So that was the kind of person he was transforming into. He had been foolish not to realise it before. It made perfect sense: an almost complete change.
He refastened his shirt and went back to the camp. The hunter looked up at him. "Is all well?"
Stephen nodded. "Yes. Yes, I think it is." He looked at the hunter again, seeing for the first time not just as a travelling companion but a man, a young and healthy man. There was the flicker of excited tension again. He exhaled sharply.
"My friend... I think you ought to know that my transformation - it will be an extreme one," Stephen said. "I am turning into a woman."
"I thought this might be so," said the hunter. "Do you wish that we separate? Before your change is complete?"
"Oh, no! I mean, no," Stephen said, feeling himself blush.
"It is good," said the hunter, smiling.
From the next morning on the hunter seemed somehow solicitous of him, an escort more than a travelling companion. Every word they spoke to one another seemed to have acquired a secret extra meaning, and every action seemed to have become a move in a game - approach, then retreat. Feint, then attack. Deflect, then riposte. The game seemed only to gather importance as his chest, hips and buttocks continued to swell. Soon even his ill-fitting clothes could not disguise them. At the same time, he found his anatomy elsewhere becoming less prominent, as if losing importance as well as size.
"I am not going to Uldath," the hunter said one evening as they prepared their meal.
Stephen had known that. "I will miss your company."
"And I yours. But I am willing to alter my journey a little and travel with you longer... a few days more. If you wish it."
That would mean they parted company well after he took his final draught of the changing water. He was quite sure now what the result of that would be. "I do not wish you to inconvenience yourself," Stephen said.
"It will be no inconvenience."
Stephen nodded, got up and turned away, not sure what to make of the feelings crowding into him. "Thank you. I... I would hate to say my farewells to you prematurely."
Then the hunter's arm was strong around his waist. He had moved so fast and so silently... but Stephen found he felt no alarm, no sense of threat. The hunter's lips were close to his ear.
"Have I made a mistake, Stephen?"
He closed his eyes and shook his head, feeling himself trembling. The hunter's other hand was gently cupping one of his breasts now. He let out a little sigh and reached behind him, stroked the hunter's thigh. The hunter was unbuttoning his shirt now, and pulled it gently down off his shoulders and arms. Stephen turned and stepped into his embrace, helped him shoulder off his own vest. Within him there was only tumult, but tinged with anticipation. He let loose his hair and shook it out as the hunter kissed his mouth, his throat, his shoulder, picked him up gently and then laid him down by the fire. It was so easy for him to pull Stephen's trousers down and off, leaving him naked. The hunter pulled at the cords holding his own loincloth up, and even by the firelight Stephen could see they were equally enthused.
"Wait," Stephen whispered as the hunter knelt down beside him. "I.. can't satisfy you fully yet. My change is not yet complete. We must wait."
The hunter nodded. "For everything?"
Stephen smiled, reached out gently for him. "Not for everything."
But in the morning, their journey had to continue, of course. Stephen slipped his shirt back on, noting how the hem now hung down to the middle of his thighs. Belted as it was with cord, it made a fine and modest tunic by itself, as well as allowing whatever cool breeze there was to reach his legs. He decided from that moment on to leave mannish clothing behind him. It was only logical, if he was indeed intent on embracing his altered state.
The hunter said nothing but Stephen sensed his approval. Even the shirt was a garment from another realm, another life, as alien here as Stephen was... as he had been. He realised there was truly no return now to his old life, but the realisation brought him no distress or shock. He had made his choice.
So as they travelled he did his best to make his garment still more comfortable, and in the process unrecognisable. With the hunter's sharp knife he trimmed away first the collar, then the sleeves. Only the strange material of the buttons and design now marked him out as a visitor to this world, that and the odd bag he still carried.
It seemed an age until once again eight knots sat upon the cord around his waist. They both knew what that now meant. That night he sat and drank the last of the water he had carried this far. The sensation it produced was becoming familiar to him, and he felt oddly wistful that he would probably never know it again.
In the morning, the womanliness of his whole aspect seemed somehow stronger - and, more importantly, the last of his man's flesh had begun to melt away in earnest. He was not yet ready to consummate his bond with the hunter - but the moment could not be far away.
He found a carefreeness, almost a wilfulness, growing within him. His personality was changing. He would happily kiss and caress the hunter as they walked, whereas once such moments were reserved for their halts or in the evening. And Stephen found himself thinking, behaving, and reacting purely as a woman - indeed at these moments he was in truth a she. These intervals of true womanhood came almost unnoticed at first and were brief, for as soon as she became aware of them she would snap back into her male self-image automatically. But as time passed they grew longer and more frequent, and soon it was the case that she felt of herself as female more often than male.
They reached a small town only a few days travel from the ancient temple of Uldath, well-equipped with hostels and markets. They paused there awhile, for Stephen wanted to rid himself of the last of his old trappings. He traded his complicated bag of leather and buckles and all its contents for a sizable pouch of coin, and with this he bought himself a much simpler cloth bag more suited to this world and her needs. From another stall he bought a light cotton bodice and a simple long skirt. As soon as she could, she took the remnants of his old shirt off for the last time and dressed in her new clothes. In the looking glasses that dotted the marketplaces she could see no trace of Stephen. She had become someone almost wholly new.
The hunter had bought her a necklace of many-coloured stones. It was rare for him to be so openly affectionate and it touched her deeply. She put it on without a word.
The next day they continued on. Stephen knew deep inside herself that she was ready, and it was time for her to become a woman in the deepest sense of the word. If she was quiet all that day as she contemplated how far she had come, the hunter did not mention it. And that night after they had eaten she stripped the clothes from both him and herself and they lay together completely for the first time. And as the universe seemed to stop and their flesh seemed to vibrate in unison, she knew that the last of the person she had once been was dispelled forever.
Afterwards they held each other close and the hunter whispered to her. "Come with me. Come back to my homeland. You will want for nothing, and every night can be like this. I will give you everything - rich foods, fine clothes, children -"
The picture he painted was so tempting that she almost yielded to it, but she shook her head with deep regret. "I have undertaken a quest for wisdom. I must go to Uldath and complete it."
The hunter respected such things and did not try to persuade her otherwise. "Then, if you can, once your quest is over - come to me, Stephen. Become my woman in truth."
"I will try - but I am no longer Stephen. That name was a man's. I am a woman. If you are serious in your offer, then you must choose a new name for me."
This was a serious responsibility and the hunter thought long about it. "I name you Iphe," he said.
"I accept that name," Iphe said. She smiled at him. "And will you now tell me your name?"
The hunter smiled and nodded, and whispered it quickly in her ear.
The making of their love was so agreeable that they tarried a day or two together solely for that purpose. But then necessity grew too great and Iphe and her lover parted. It was strange for her to be travelling alone again - indeed, it could be said she had never really been alone before. But she had all she needed, and, while fond memories of her time with the hunter sometimes made her wistful, she was sure of her purpose. Soon the five great pillars of the temple of Uldath rose above the horizon before her.
Legend said that within the temple lay a place where the universe was as yet unfinished, the creator having been distracted by the wickedness and stupidity of man while still about his work. Others said that it marked the spot where the essence of evil had broken into creation, and as such it had to be guarded. All Iphe knew was that it was a place of great power and it would mark the end of her quest.
None came to Uldath lightly, and all who did come were welcomed by one of the Grey Speakers, the masked and robed guardians of the temple. No- one knew their origins or true nature, but the metallic rasp of their voices unsettled many who encountered them.
Iphe had only entered the temple precincts, an obsidian maze of carved stone, when one of the Speakers glided up to her.
"Why have you come to Uldath?"
She lowered her eyes respectfully. "I seek wisdom, sir."
"By what method?"
"I have come here from another world. I seek to remake myself and live a second life, and thus discover greater truths."
"Are you committed to this path?"
"When I set out upon it I was a man, and a visitor. Now I am a woman, and not a virgin. I have a name of this realm, clothing of it too. This is my home now. I will not return to my realm of origin."
"Is this not remaking enough for wisdom?" The Speaker's voice was flat, as if this were a catechism of set questions and responses.
"I was told to come here, sir."
"If this is your wish, we are bound to assist you. Follow."
Iphe's heart leapt into her mouth. Was it so easy? She walked after the Speaker into the temple, down black-lit corridors into the very heart of the edifice. Occasionally she spied other Speakers with their charges in the distance, but averted her gaze respectfully.
Finally she was led to the doors of a chamber. The Speaker did not go in. "The great winds of the infinite can be allowed into this room once the doors are sealed. They will complete your transformation. Be certain this is what you want - once you enter, the cycle must play out."
A moment's foreboding - but soon it would be over, Iphe thought, and then she could return to her hunter, become his wife. She found that was what she wanted to do, once she had gained the wisdom she sought. "I will enter."
"It is required that you give your name," the Speaker said.
"I am Iphe," she said, and as the Speaker inclined its head she strode into the chamber. The stone door slid shut behind her almost silently. The room was circular, with a high ceiling. In the centre of both floor and ceiling was a dark shaft, and suspended at its centre was a glittering, spinning thread of light. As she stared the shaft began to thicken and flash, and more mundane winds began to pluck at her bodice and skirt.
My transformation will be complete, Iphe thought, and wondered for the first time what that meant. The thread of light was whirling and rippling now, different colours racing from top to bottom and back again. It was like a rainbow trapped inside a tornado.
My flesh is new, my personality is new, Iphe thought, stepping back a little from the thread as it expanded even further. The room seemed smaller than it first had and her back was almost pressed to the wall. There is nothing left of the old Stephen, so how else can I be transformed?
Sparks danced out from the spinning vortex and struck her. Memories violently appeared in the forefront of her mind - her childhood as a boy, her time at college... and yet they faded almost at once and she could not recall any of their details. It came to her in a rush. I cannot be wholly new if I was once Stephen, she thought. All the wind would do would be to obliterate her memories of ever having been a man... ever having remembered being a man.
"No!" But the thread was swelling unstoppably and her back was to the wall. I should have known better wisdom, Iphe thought, as the burning light swept into her. The wisdom to know when to abandon a quest. The wisdom to have gone with a man I loved and who loved me. All she had known was melting away, leaving her blank and fresh and new. And as the last of who she had been was whipped away and dissolved, she did see the truth she had worked so hard and sacrificed so much to reach... but as the wind died and the thread became a thread once more, new memories began to fill her head and she quietly forgot it.
The chamber door slid open and the young woman emerged uncertainly. The Speaker was waiting for her when she did so, and continued to wait until she spoke.
"I... I don't know who I am. Where - where is this place?"
"Your name is Iphe," the Speaker said. "This is the temple of Uldath."
"What am I doing here? What should I do now?"
"These things are for you to determine."
Iphe nodded and followed the Speaker as it led her away.
It was a small town and none too busy. The old man was frequently bored, but he kept to his traditional shady spot in the marketplace, feeling it was expected of him. The day seemed to show signs of improving as he saw another stranger was in town. She was a slim, pale woman with long, slightly curly golden hair, dressed in a simple bodice and skirt, a simple necklace around her throat, with a travelling bag over her shoulder. She noticed the old man looking at her and smiled nervously at him.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
"I - I don't know. Do you have a wise man or a mage in this village?"
"Why?"
"I - I don't really know what to do. I feel like there's something really important I need to find out, but..." She shrugged, rather becomingly.
"You seek wisdom," the old man said.
"Yes, I think I do. I wish I knew how to find it."
"There is a place," said the old man. "Leave this town along the north road. Travel for a week and then strike west towards the mountains..."