Surviving Sanctuary

By PJ O'Brien

On a spring evening in 1982, a thousand people are killed in Sanctuary, a country founded by genocide survivors and devoted to pacifism. Shock and grief cause deep-seated tensions to erupt, especially after an official pronouncement that the deaths are the result of a mass suicide pact by an unpopular rural sect. As the few remaining members of the sect go into hiding to protect themselves, six people are thrown together by chance and competing romantic interest. United by a belief in the victims' innocence, they risk everything to defend the survivors and discover the truth.

Decades later, Brian, a congenial and underemployed American, goes to Sanctuary to look for Jenny, the sister of a former girlfriend who disappeared while visiting there. As he looks for clues and tries not to marry anyone accidentally, he learns that he may also be a target. To determine why, and whether his guards are there to protect him or kill him, he must find out what really happened in 1982.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 29, 2011
• ISBN: 9781257001323

Book preview

Surviving Sanctuary

Surviving Sanctuary

PJ O’Brien

Copyright 2014 by PJ O’Brien

15th Revision

All Rights Reserved

ISBN 978-1-257-00132-3

Cover art by Kat McCarthy of Aeternum Designs

Surviving Sanctuary is the first set of a compilation of stories and chapter episodes that became the Sanctuary book series. It began in the early 2000s as a quasi-alternate reality mass murder mystery, and has evolved over the years into a mesh of interlocking backstories of magic, culture wars, and romance. Segments are revised every few years in response to reader questions and requests, so do feel free to contact the author if you have any. The setting is not a real country and is not patterned after anything in particular. Its location is on the opposite side of the earth from where the reader is sitting, but its citizens love visitors and any ideas they bring to improve the world. A character index and pronunciation guide to names appears at the end of this book. Welcome to Sanctuary!

Chapter 1

House of the Rising Phoenix, Great Plateau Province, Sanctuary, 1966-1977

There was once a boy who lived in a country that was insignificant to the rest of the world. It was remote and rugged, and it lacked useful resources. Because of these circumstances, it was isolated for most of its history, which resulted in a culture that was very different from any other on the planet. The boy’s name was Fiij and every night he approached his bed with a certain amount of wariness. He never knew whether he’d fall into the refreshing oblivion of normal sleep or into a bizarre world of impending disasters. He would wake up in the morning either rested or worn out depending upon which way the night went.

He realized early on that the dream-world was just that and that whatever hurt him in it couldn’t hurt him in real life. But he was frightened more often than not, especially since he could never wake himself up during the most horrifying moments. He was forced to deal with the countless threats until morning. Eventually he developed strategies and tactics to cope, but only after many grueling and terrifying experiences. He discovered how to form alliances with dream partners and even managed to conquer his anxiety occasionally. But whether he did well in the dreams or not, he was exhausted when morning released him. Then he faced the challenge of staying awake in class or while he did his chores. His teachers were strict and his parents were even more so. They didn’t consider problems with dreams an excuse for not being attentive. Everyone has the occasional nightmare, a teacher once rebuked him when he’d timidly responded to her question as to why his thinking was so fuzzy that day. That was the last time he mentioned his problem to anyone. His classmates hadn’t laughed during the exchange, but they looked at him too intently. He was easily embarrassed in those days and felt humiliated for the rest of the week.

He’d told only two people before that. He mentioned it to the most sympathetic of his brothers, but Viim was slightly younger than he was and his concern developed into a sympathetic fear of falling asleep. Fiij had to assure him that everything had gotten better and told him funny stories as they went to bed so that at least one of them could sleep peacefully. Fiij had also told his primary father, Master Niiv. He was sympathetic as well, but Fiij could tell that he really couldn’t grasp what was happening to him. Master Niiv understood nightmares, both the ones in the night and those occurring in real life. He’d experienced both. He assumed that his son was experiencing the usual sort of childhood anxieties and recommended more physical exertion during the day and no comic books before bed.

Fiij came to realize that what he was experiencing wasn’t usual, so no one else could help him. He’d only get off-hand opinions or further impositions on his limited free time. He decided to keep it to himself and cope as best he could. By the time he was old enough for an Initial Marriage, he had ceased to be frightened when the nights of lucid dreaming came. Even though the problems and conflicts within them became increasingly challenging, they no longer terrified him. He learned to bear it even when the nocturnal assailants stabbed or shot him. He occasionally died in his dreams, but he realized after the first time that he wouldn’t die in real life. He could be dead in his dreams and still wake up living.

For most of his childhood and adolescence, Fiij essentially lived in two worlds: a waking one and a sleeping one. Like his waking-self, his dream-self often stumbled and made wrong choices. But whenever that happened, the scenarios would repeat themselves in subsequent dreams until he managed to get it right. Even though he was not in control of when he could do things over, his dream world had an advantage over his waking world in that he did have second chances. He had more than second chances; he had countless chances, whether he wished for them or not.

Sometimes his strategies would have hilarious results, but at other times he inadvertently caused massacres of dream characters or pain and anguish to himself. He eventually resolved each crisis, but the emotional cost of learning was often high. Fortunately, he never struggled alone in the dreamscape. He had a dream-partner, a girl he didn’t know in waking life. Sometimes she was with him throughout the dream and sometimes she would show up at precisely the right moment, just before he was eaten by a monster or had fallen off a cliff. She always had an extra spear or a handy rope. When he was much younger, he’d thought of the dream girl as simply someone to be scared with. It was always better to have someone to be scared with instead of shaking alone. During the moments when they weren’t hiding or running for their lives, she was an exploration partner and a buddy to pal around with. In his waking life, he wasn’t allowed to train with girls, not even with his own sisters. Having a friendship with a girl, even a dream girl, was a very daring thing to do and it made him feel braver.

As he got older, he saw her in a different light, but there was still a strong sense of partnership between them. Together they faced unspeakable horrors and later laughed in relief. They were constantly challenged, but seldom defeated. They became rulers of the dream kingdom and they ruled it together, wisely and well. He was profoundly devoted to her and she was to him.

By the time he started high school, thoughts of her would creep into his head even during the day. Then he began to be impatient when she suddenly appeared in his musings or in his dreams. He kept asking, How do you get here? Why do you only show up whenever you want to and not when I want you to? He never got a response.

And then much later, when he was ready to leave home and go to the university, he asked other questions. Was she real? Did she exist outside of dreams as he did? He had to have an Initial Marriage soon. How could he find her in his waking life? She never answered him. Whenever his queries became too probing, she disappeared. Whether she left willfully or whether the forces in charge of the dreamscape forced her away, he couldn’t tell.

Then one day he discovered the truth. The girl in the dream was in fact a real person and not someone his mind had simply conjured up. He saw her picture in the newspaper and there could be no mistaking her. He read the accompanying article with nervous excitement. She had a name. That would seem obvious, but it seemed strange to him nonetheless. In his dreams, she had no name, and neither did he. Names hadn’t mattered, though they occasionally invented nicknames for each other. Who had time for real world things like names? They were too busy conquering evil and righting wrongs and having adventures.

He was pleased at first to find out that she was a princess. It seemed appropriate that the person who ruled kingdoms – even dream kingdoms – was a princess. As he read further he learned that even among princesses, she was special. She was Shahnei, Crown Princess of the Royal House. Because royal succession in their country was matrilineal, she would be the next queen. He took an immediate vicarious pride in that. Then he recollected that he wasn’t anyone special.  Despite what heroic myths and movies led one to believe, there wasn’t much chance for a son of immigrants in a rural province to marry into royalty.

The more he read of her life and her social and political connections, the more estranged from her he felt. By the time he’d finished the article, he realized that they no longer belonged to each other, if in fact they’d ever belonged to each other. He had no doubt that the princess was the same girl that had been in his dreams all of his life; the picture was unmistakable. He was usually a very logical and reasonable person, but he held onto the illogical notion that they’d spent their childhood together in his dreamscape by some supernatural or divine intervention and refused to entertain the notion that he might have seen stray pictures of her occasionally throughout his life and had unconsciously used her image to provide a face for his nocturnal companion and co-defender. He took some comfort in having proof that she existed outside of his mind, but this was soon overshadowed by the acknowledgement that there was no reason for her to want a connection to him. Unless she recognized him from her own dreams, she would see him only as an ordinary guy from an ordinary House at the bottom of a plateau two provinces away from her. They had nothing in common except for the fact that they were both master-level martial artists.

But maybe there was some hope in that. The newspaper described how she had shaken the normally traditional Court by declaring that she wouldn’t marry anyone who couldn’t defeat her in an open competition. Her father decided to indulge Her Royal Highness in this bit of fancy.  He agreed that only those who were undefeated at a Royal tournament could present credentials for consideration. However, final approval of the suitor would still follow traditional protocols.

That night, Fiij went to sleep with thoughts of Royal tournaments in his head. The princess was waiting for him as soon as he fell into a dream.

Shall we try it? she asked, as she tilted her head in the direction of a dark, murky path.

Of course, he answered. He assumed she meant another quest, and began to walk forward. When he realized that she wasn’t walking with him, he turned around to look for her and found himself alone.

He woke up the next morning and made a decision. He would request permission to enter the tournament. He’d find a way to the Southern Province on his own, defeat all comers, marry the princess, and be a hero to all in the province of Great Plateau. He was briefly ecstatic at this prospect until he thought about his parents’ possible reactions to his plan. Then he felt a little queasy. He thought in particular of his primary mother’s reaction and his queasiness threatened to display itself all over the rug. But relief came immediately when he remembered that she was away at the temple. He guiltily discarded the joy that this realization inspired and hurried happily down to the training field.

From the time he was fifteen, his mother had let her frequent trips to pray at the temple last so long that she essentially lived there. This was a relief to everyone in the House of Rising Phoenix. His mother was very sincere and dedicated, but her sense of rectitude was so profound that no one could possibly live up to it. She drove all the children of the House very hard, but she was strictest with Fiij, who was her only birth-child. She transformed all of her maternal devotion into an expectation of perfection. He couldn’t even think of her without tensing up and breaking into a clammy sweat.

He was understandably dismayed then upon seeing her when he went inside for breakfast. She observed his brief expression and the immediate correction of it without comment. She watched in silence as he bowed briefly to her, greeted the members of the House who had not come in from the training field with him, and seated himself. She then glanced at his father, who acknowledged her with a nod and began to speak.

The eldest son of our House is at the age for a first marriage.

Everyone looked at Fiij, who warily nodded his acknowledgement.

We have given this matter a great deal of thought. Perhaps our son has as well?

Fiij bowed his head again slightly and waited until he was invited to speak.

Master Niiv continued, We should follow tradition in this matter. The Initial Spouse is of critical importance to a person’s well-being. The choice is best left to the parents since they have enough experience to choose wisely. They know the hearts of their young as well as the difficulties of life. Here his father paused, noting that his son’s face had lowered so that it was no longer visible. He dropped some formality from his voice. Tell us, Fiij, is there someone you’re considering already?

There was silence. What could he say? Had only his father been present, he might have been tempted to talk about the dreams and the tournament. But in the presence of his mother, his other parents, his younger brothers and sisters, and the junior Defensive Artists they were training, it was impossible. He couldn’t do it; at least not directly.

He slowly willed himself to look up. Careful to avoid anyone’s eyes but his father’s, he said quietly, Before we decide, sir, I’d like to compete in the open tournament in Southern Province.

His father was clearly puzzled. The Southern Province? But it’s so far and they seldom have tournaments there. And when they do, they’re... He frowned, comprehending. Son, that...the Royals are... with all due respect to them, under the present conditions… with the present Royal Grandmaster…. Master Niiv stopped here, careful not to sound disrespectful or treasonous. The winner of the tournament is expected to marry the crown princess. With all due respect to the Royal House, we could never…let’s just say that we’re not worthy of such an honor.

But sir, it might be good for the status of our House. Being tied to those descended from the Ancient Lines must surely have benefits-

We did not raise a son with such attention to mind, body, and spirit so that he could be a stud horse to some pampered queen! his mother said sharply. You must forget this. You’re not a child anymore. You must think seriously.

Master Mahj, one of his Little Fathers, interceded quickly. Being married is not the end of training, Fiij. You can still compete in other tournaments. No doubt, he continued with a glance toward the other parents, the Southern Province tournament attracts him because it’s open to all disciplines. Perhaps he has won so often in his own that he no longer feels challenged. Next year, there is another open tournament in the capital for all styles and disciplines. You’d have the same challenge but no worry about having an unsuitable Initial Match.

A Little Mother agreed. Think how difficult it would be when it’s time to establish your own House. What lady master would wish to be married into the Royals? There would be all the tedious rules and etiquette and no real freedom for her.

Another brief silence ensued as everyone looked at Fiij and waited for a response. He could think of nothing to say.

In any case, his mother continued, the House of Swift Journey has another daughter ready for an Initial Marriage. As in your case, all of the parents in the House are masters. And like the Royals, they also descend from Ancient Lines, though most of the Swift Journey ancestors came from far-end Asia rather than Africa. Even so, they’ve been established here over a thousand years. They can make up for our House’s immigrant Lines. She looked steadily at Fiij and again waited for a response. When there was none, she added, They are visiting suitable Houses. I have invited them here and they have graciously accepted. They should arrive this afternoon.

Obviously, we can’t force you to marry anyone, his father concluded. However, we must insist that you carefully consider each proposed lady, and behave with politeness and kindness to her and her House.

Fiij nodded, as he knew he must, and the meal ended silently.

* * *

He had fleeting hopes that the proposed lady would be the one in his dreams. Perhaps she was a close relative of the princess and looked very much like her. Those descended from the ancient Houses were extensively racially mixed. The early residents of the isolated country had quickly discovered the problems of a limited gene-pool, so they promoted the ideal of exogamous mate selection to strengthen family lines with new traits. If the lines of the Swift Journey daughter were thousands of years old, it was very likely that they intertwined with lines originating in Africa and elsewhere. She could still be the woman he looked for.

His hopes evaporated the moment he saw her. He saw a beautiful and sad young woman, but he didn’t see the one he was determined to find. He quickly hid his disappointment, hoping that no one had noticed. He saw that others in his House were trying just as quickly to neutralize their expressions. Curious, he looked at her again. He nearly smiled when he noticed what he’d overlooked before, though it was clearly obvious to everyone else. The lady had no legs.

He glanced at his mother’s face. Her emotions were now neatly managed, and she graciously invited the guests in, appearing not to notice anything unusual.

Refreshments were offered and conversation was made.

Both the proposed bride and Fiij were as silent as etiquette allowed. He noticed that though the members of his House were very attentive to their guests, they did not seem to be actively promoting the match. The visiting House did not really seem to expect them to. There was a general feeling of quiet resignation.

He became a little curious. Neiren was a third level master according to the information his parents had gotten before their guests arrived. How was it possible? He thought back to the qualifying trials he had undergone for level-three mastery and couldn’t think how he would have passed without all of his limbs. While it was obvious that she had artificial legs attached now to help her walk, she surely couldn’t train in them. He decided to ask her casually about a variation of form technique that he’d observed at a recent local tournament. Did she feel that it should always be executed exactly as the ancients taught, or were some adaptations permissible?

Lady Master Neiren blushed briefly as everyone turned toward her. Nevertheless she raised her eyes to Fiij and answered him. After acknowledging the strengths and weaknesses of both viewpoints, she concluded, I’ve become more tolerant of change because of my own circumstances. Until my accident two years ago, I was a strict traditionalist. Now I must adapt everything. These artificial legs help in movement and for reducing some stares, but I can’t continue my training unless I make some changes.

The visit continued very formally and politely. At just the proper time, the visiting House members arose, thanked their hosts for their hospitality, and left. Fiij’s primary mother, Lady Master Dahkahn, shook her head sadly as she closed the door and said, A good sort of girl. How very unfortunate for the House. They won’t find a match for her. She should spare them further embarrassment and present herself to the temple. She has a good depth to her; perhaps she’ll find her own happiness no matter where the holy guides assign her. She turned to Fiij and added, I am particularly pleased at your kindness to her. It was wrong for them not to warn us about this, however.

Perhaps when they mention it, they receive no invitations.

One should not sacrifice honor for advantage, son. Better to send the daughter to a temple than represent the House as untrustworthy.

If my mother master will permit a dissenting argument, I find presenting the daughter as she is and demonstrating a respect for the wisdom and justice of the hosting House is not necessarily untrustworthy.

His mother said nothing to this, but consulted her calendar. There are two other Houses in neighboring provinces that have daughters ready for an Initial Marriage. If they prove unsuitable, we should perhaps wait a year to make discreet queries further abroad. That would mean a delay for you in attending the university, however.

Fiij again made an attempt to manage his emotions and responded carefully, I have heard of some Houses sending students to study without an Initial Marriage.

No doubt. There is a great deal of foolishness in the world. But this House would never do such a thing.

Fiij silently considered his options. He knew the Royal tournament was closed to him forever, as were most other choices he wished to make while he was considered a child of the House. An Initial Marriage emancipated one to a great extent, but it was only the first stage toward parental independence. A university degree, a wise and honorable Initial Wife, and further mastery of his skills would give him the leverage to found his own House. And, he consoled himself, though one’s Sending House directed one’s Initial Marriage, the couple themselves chose the successive spouses. The key was to find an Initial who would be sympathetic to him and his wish to find his dream-partner.

Fathers and mothers, he said very formally, I wish to marry Lady Master Neiren of the House of Swift Journey.

Chapter 2

National University, Capital City, Southwestern Province, 1978-1982

The dreams did not reoccur during Fiij’s university days. He often missed them. He’d long since ceased being terrified by them and they’d been his only connection to the dream girl. He didn’t allow himself to be depressed about it, however. He was sure that he would find her eventually in waking life.

Generally, time passed by pleasantly enough. He found the freedom of university life exhilarating. While others in the dormitory occasionally griped about rules and restrictions, neither Fiij nor Neiren did. Both spent their childhoods in strict Master Houses and had sworn to do as they pleased as soon as they left home. But once they did, they were amazed to find themselves needing to regulate their daily schedule and activities in a disciplined and orderly fashion. They found that they didn’t mind a regimen that they chose for themselves. It was the ability to make the choice that mattered.

Fiij chose to study Classics, which had always interested him. In addition to his studies at the university, he was undergoing the highest level of martial arts training at a local temple. This had been arranged by Neiren’s Little Father Viik, who was a grandmaster respected throughout the country. As if his schedule wasn’t busy enough, Fiij also took ground school training and flying lessons at the nearby national airport. His mother had arranged that, showing rare insight and kindness toward him. The exhilaration he felt in the air was almost as strong as the intensity of feeling he had when he had mastered a particularly difficult marital arts technique. Neiren suspected it was a way for Lady Master Dahkahn to guarantee that her son came home occasionally, by air if not by land, but she kept these thoughts to herself. Fiij’s mother had finally managed to do something that made him happy and Neiren didn’t want to do anything to spoil it.

The marriage was a happy one. Fiij had great respect for Neiren, who was beautiful, companionable, and intelligent. He had told her about the dreams in their early days together, though he hadn’t really intended to. But she had been curious about his wish to marry her and she wasn’t satisfied with his attempts to deflect her questions with polite half-truths.

After he’d told her, she was silent for awhile. Then she asked, Are you sure it’s Princess Shahnei? Have you ever met her?

He admitted that he hadn’t, though he had seen a picture when the tournament was announced. But once he saw the picture, he recognized her right away as the woman from his dreams.

I know Grandmaster Shahn, the man who defeated everyone in that tournament and married her, Neiren said tentatively. That is, I used to know him a little. His House is as far up the Old Mother Mountain as anyone could possibly live. Their primary style of defensive arts is the same as my Sending House’s. There have been friendships among us even from the days of our Grand-Sending Houses, but we’re not related. Little Father Viik goes to visit them whenever he can.

Neiren was silent again. Fiij considered the implications of what she said. Did this mean that she would be willing to consider them when establishing a House? Was it all going to work out that easily?

He respected her silence for a few moments and then asked, The Old Mother isn’t an easy journey from your House. Did you visit often?

I didn’t. The last time I saw Grandmaster Shahn was when I was fourteen. My father wanted to get a pony for me, but he wasn’t happy with the ones available from the local dealers. He asked Little Father to write to the Heaven in the Mists House for us. The grandmaster’s Sending House gentles wild mountain ponies. Occasionally they sell some outside their province when the herds get too large. They brought some down the mountains for us and we met them halfway.  I remember that Shahn seemed very different than he’d been before. He’d always been very friendly and funny, but he wasn’t then. He was kind, but…distant, perhaps. He’d already lost both of his Little Fathers then. You’ve heard of the tragedies they had, right?

Fiij acknowledged that he had. Everyone in the world of masters had.

Neiren continued, His parents needed to work extra hard to help provide for everyone since the mothers of the House decided not to marry again. Not many prospects wanted to live so far up the mountain anyway. You probably know that all of the parents in his House were grandmasters, and so were many members of their Sending Houses. But they’re all modest, unassuming people. Half of them end up as Contemplatives in temples and the others prefer to live quietly in remote, rugged areas.

What was their relationship to the Royal House? Fiij asked.

None that I know of.

Perhaps they sold ponies to them, he speculated.

Maybe, but they don’t usually sell out of their region. Mountain ponies generally don’t do well off the mountains, so the Heaven in the Mists folks are pretty particular about where they’re sent. Selling ponies is a marginal income source for them anyway. Shahn’s primary mother and father are doctors, practicing both traditional and modern methods. Their work is the primary support for the House. Little Father told me recently that Shahn’s father is sick now. Cancer, I think. His mother has taken him to finish his life at a temple. She’s a Contemplative now, but Grandmaster Wahn isn’t. I’m not sure how she convinced him to go. I’d heard that he’d vowed to die on the mountain.

There was silence again. Then Neiren continued, Little Father thought it was very interesting that Shahn would even compete in the Royal Tournament. They have the same issues with the palace and the Royal Grandmaster that most high level masters do. More so, actually. There’s some history there that I won’t go into. It was before my time and I’m sure I wouldn’t get it right. But on top of that, Grandmaster Shahn doesn’t have the personality for life at Court. He doesn’t like crowds and fuss. He’s considerate, but stubborn and generally does whatever he wants. He would seem to be the last person to want to be a Royal Consort. He’s not terribly competitive either, which I’m sure you’ll find hard to believe. Everybody does, but it’s true. His whole House was like that. Everybody wants to challenge him because no one has been able to beat him, whether in tournaments or practice matches. But he doesn’t seem to care if he’s undefeated or not. He answers challenges to be polite, I think. She smiled at a memory and added, Little Father always insists on a grudge match every time he visits and Shahn always graciously defeats him. Little Father says that the last person to beat Shahn in an official competition was his own mother, Lady Grandmaster Shahlin. He was fourteen years old then. She became Enlightened soon afterwards and they haven’t sparred since. No one else has even come close to defeating him.

Fiij nodded. I heard that from the masters who trained with him while he was here at the university. A lot of people call him ‘the greatest master who ever lived’ though that seems to be stretching things a bit. I can’t say, though. I’ve never seen him fight. We didn’t have television reception out where I grew up and I don’t think he competed much in my province. My parents were too busy working to travel much for tournaments. The primary style of Art for his House is different from ours anyway so we wouldn’t have competed at the same ones. But, I’d like to face him some day in an open competition.

Fiij paused as a thought came to him. If Neiren’s parents knew Grandmaster Shahn, maybe she could arrange a bout. What if Fiij managed to beat him? Would anyone believe him? It wouldn’t matter. If he defeated Shahn in private he could do it again in public. That would certainly put Rising Phoenix on the national map and it would bring Fiij to the attention of Princess Shahnei. He framed his thoughts carefully and asked Neiren in a casual tone if she could arrange an informal match.

Neiren blushed and said that she hadn’t seen or spoken to the grandmaster in years. He was four years older and probably didn’t even remember her. She suddenly seemed unwilling to talk about him further, but Fiij didn’t want to stop the conversation there. The tie of friendship between the Grandmaster Houses of Swift Journey and Heaven in the Mists was his pathway to the princess. His own House, while respectable and esteemed in the rural eastern provinces, had no connections to the palace nor did they have any interest in it.

Neiren had been willing to talk about Grandmaster Shahn in the context of his House’s relationship to hers, but not on a personal level. She’d probably had a crush on him when she fourteen and embarrassed herself by saying something silly to him when the ponies were brought down. Maybe she’d fallen off one in her nervousness. Fiij decided if he kept the conversation away from memories of that, he could find out more information that would be useful to him.

So, why did he wait so long to be Initialed? he asked. Because of the rockslide tragedy?

"Yes, I think so. They’re very proper people and wouldn’t have broken with tradition otherwise. He was eighteen when it happened. A huge part of the mountain face broke off and completely buried his House. It killed everyone inside. They had no time to get away. There was no place to go even if they had a little time. What made it worse was that it happened on the afternoon of New Year’s Eve. There was a big family gathering so even his brothers and sisters who were old enough to have their own Houses were there, along with their spouses and children. Grandmaster Shahn wasn’t, though. He was out helping his primary mother and father carry medicines and food to some patients on another cliff face. The three of them are the only survivors of a House that once had six parents and seven children.

That was just before he went to the university, so the year of mourning postponed a marriage at the usual time. I’m not sure why he wasn’t married after that. She blushed again, but went on quickly, "Maybe his parents were too distracted to arrange it. They insisted he go to the university during the mourning time, even without an Initial Spouse. There was nowhere else for him to live, I suppose, and they wanted to ensure a good future for him. Anybody he met at school would likely have been married already and he spent all of his term holidays helping his father rebuild. There wouldn’t have been much time for match visits.

His mother wanted to be a Contemplative, so she went to stay at the temple in the Blue Hills during the rebuilding, but his father didn’t. I think Grandmaster Wahn was afraid that once he entered the temple, he would never leave. He wanted to stay on the mountain and take care of his patients and his ponies. My Sending House offered a place to him of course, but we were too far away. So, he stayed with old friends on the mountain until he got a little residence and some pony shelters built. There are still a few stubborn people up there who just won’t leave despite the dangers. She paused for a moment to think of anything else she knew about Heaven in the Mists. Shahn’s parents are the only doctors in those mountains. In the winter, the roads are sometimes impassable, even occasionally for the mountain ponies that have special adaptation to the terrain. You couldn’t get an ambulance up there and there’s no suitable landing place even for a helicopter. It takes a special kind of person to want to live up there and the folks who do usually don’t want to leave.

But Grandmaster Shahn wants to leave, I take it.

No, I don’t think so. That’s why his Initial Marriage to the princess is so strange. He would have to come down the mountain to live, wouldn’t he? And he’s in medical school now so that his parents can fully retire. His mother would like to attend exclusively to her meditation and his father is weak from his treatments. He can’t easily navigate the passes anymore to get to all their patients. I think originally Shahn had wanted to be an engineer and design aesthetically pleasing, but accessible mountain roads, bridges, and tunnels. If I understand Little Father correctly, the decision to study medicine was very recent. I think he decided it when he heard that his father was so sick.

And we don’t have a comprehensive medical school yet. That means he has to go out of the country to study. An odd thing to do when your father is dying.

Not if that’s what the father wants.

Maybe that explains the marriage. I’m assuming the House isn’t wealthy. There can’t be much market for mountain ponies and with all the Little Parents gone, there would be little money coming in. Scholarship grants for international study are given just to the highest caliber students. Maybe he married her for her money.

I doubt it. He’s not the type. But anyway, by promising to practice in a place where there’s a shortage of doctors, he still could have gotten the funding for medical school. And from what I remember, the whole House was quite intelligent. In fact, he was here on full scholarship. Maybe, she said after pausing to phrase her thoughts carefully, maybe no logic was involved at all in the marriage decision. Maybe it was simply love. Or a whim. Or a dream, she added privately to herself.

I don’t think it was love. Have you heard of any other Initial Marriage where the bride and groom immediately separate and live in different countries? Even in the most formally arranged marriages, people spend a little time trying to get to know each other. Why didn’t he go to medical school in Paris so that he could be with her?

Why didn’t she go to Hong Kong with him? They have universities there, too.

I understand that the Royals traditionally go to Paris if they study abroad. And she probably speaks better French than Cantonese. Who knows? It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s got nothing to do with us.

She raised her eyebrows at the last statement. I’m not a fool, Fiij. It has everything to do with us, doesn’t it? She’s your dream girl, your destiny.

He couldn’t read the expression in her eyes, but he smiled and said, Maybe. But destiny doesn’t have to mean right now. I’m happy with my life as it is, with just you and me. Everyone approaches Initial Marriages differently. If they want to get to know each other and help each other finish growing up from opposite sides of the planet, that’s their business.  We have our own way here together. If she’s my destiny, I’ll meet her later when I’m ready for a House. But I’m not ready now. Right now, you’re everything I could want or need. The best decision I ever made was to ask my parents for permission to marry you. Maybe that’s why there haven’t been any dreams since.

Chapter 3

Western Border Region, Southwestern Province, 28 February 2003

Are you sure this is the police station? Brian asked.

I’m sure. I’m very sure. We don’t have much crime here. Some of the time, he fixes crimes. Most of the time, he fixes appliances. Come, I’ll introduce you.

It was a relief anyway to get out of the wind and dust. Brian’s guide rang the little bell on the counter and Brian occupied himself with looking at the partially dismembered toys, small appliances, and ancient computers that competed with each other for shelf space. Soon, a non-descript middle-aged man with a friendly expression came out from the back room.

Ah, Rahn, peace and happiness! Nice to see you again. And you brought a friend?

Peace and happiness, Master Brii. Yes, this is an American guest. His name is Brian Cohen. He wanted to see the police. Mr. Cohen, this is Master Brii. He is our local Protecting Master, which is a little like your police.

Master Brii extended his hand and said, Peace and happiness. Welcome to our country. And please call me Brii. I know Americans are very informal about names.

His guest shook his hand and answered, Nice to meet you. I hope we’re not intruding.

Intruding? Who worries about intruding upon the police, eh? I’ve visited your country three times and have read all of your mystery books and crime stories. Come, sit. I’ll get you some coffee and you’ll tell me your troubles.

Brian thanked him and sat down where his host indicated.

So, is this your first visit to our country then? Here for business or tourism? I’m sorry, but I have to ask, could I see your card and your passport?  I’m a little bit police, a little bit fix-it man, and a little bit customs agent.

Uhm, sure, said Brian, pulling out his passport. Well, I’m not sure really. It’s not really business, but not really tourism either. But, I guess that’s closer. And yes, it’s my first visit.

Good, good. You see, I’ll write your name and passport information in this international visitors log. You don’t have a card yet? This is your first official point of entry?

Brian glanced at Rahn uncertainly before turning back to Brii. A card? You’re the first person to ask to see my passport. The bus didn’t even stop at the border.

He came overland from the western border, on Highway 4, said Rahn. This is his first checkpoint. He’ll need a card.

Very good. I’ll do it for you. Here it is. Like an old-fashioned library card, you know. A little visa. I write your information here and make two identical cards. One I file here in my little International Guest file box. The other you keep. Whenever you go to another province or town, you check in and get a little stamp on your card. When you get ready to leave, you give the card to the border guard in the province you depart from. Everyone knows where you went and when you left. For some reason, this is important. We were silly about these things even before your country had the tragedies with the New York towers. That was a terrible thing and now the whole world is a little nervous about foreigners and strangers. But we try not to be here. You’re very welcome to visit, but you must carry a card. That’s the way it is and that’s all we need to say about that. Now, please: don’t tell me that you’re here for the pilgrimage. It’s not what you think it will be. I suggest you come another time. Go to the Holy Lands for your pilgrimage.

No, no, I’m not here on pilgrimage, Brian assured him, happy to get a word in edgewise. I’m actually a private investigator. I’m looking for an American citizen who came last year with a college friend and was never heard from again.

Ah! Just like in the movies. How exciting! We don’t usually have excitement here. Although last month there was an attempted robbery along Highway 4. Really! Someone actually walked up to a young man, waved a knife, and asked for his money. Demanded it, really. No please or thank you or anything. We all talked about it for days. It was so strange to us. We thought the thief must be a little confused in his thinking. Why not simply tell someone, ‘I have a need?’ But too bad now. A disgrace for him and his House. If you give us a disappearance story, I’m afraid we’ll never want to shut up. Especially if it involves a foreigner. We won’t have to worry about reminding a House of its disgrace and making anyone sad; we’ll keep flapping our mouths.

Do you have very many tourists here? Brian asked, hoping to keep him focused. And how long do you keep the card after they leave the country? Could I look at this woman’s record?

How kind of you to make sure I’ll have stories for entertaining my House at dinner tonight! You obviously have some kind of official documentation, some kind of warrant. I’ve only seen them in training. And now you are serving me with it; is that how you say it, ‘serving the warrant’?

Uhm…yes. I mean, yes that’s how you say it, I think. But no, I don’t have one. Not really. Not from here anyway.

Ah, well, that’s too bad. We’re a small country, a little backward maybe, but still a little bit civilized. We have a respect for civil rights and due process. But, even so we’ll try to help you. Tell me what you know of this girl.

Her name is Jennifer Adler. She’s 23 and a graduate of the University of Colorado in Boulder. The last her family saw her was at the Denver airport in February last year when she was on the way here. She called them after she arrived to tell them she got here safely. Then, nothing. It’s not like her. She’s a thoughtful and considerate person. Her family is very worried.

Yes, I can imagine. I have daughters myself. It’s curious though: she’s been gone a year. Why wait until now to wonder what happened?

The family has been looking for her ever since. First they tried to contact the family of the local boy she came with, but couldn’t figure out how to reach them. They didn’t know their names since you don’t use surnames here. Then they went through diplomatic channels, which was hard because your country has a limited diplomatic presence in ours.

We’re too small and poor, I’m sorry.

Her parents have been to Washington, Ottawa, and Mexico City numerous times to chase down the Sanctuarian consul who covers all three countries for you. They were told that the local authorities were actively searching, but haven’t found her yet. Her parents came here themselves in the fall and visited every official in the capital rumored to be helpful. No one knows anything. It’s like she just vanished.

Brii was quietly thoughtful. Rahn said apologetically, I’m sorry, Master Brii, I have a long drive ahead of me. Could I leave this young man with you? I just found him along the road where the bus dropped him off and thought he needed a master’s help. I should go now; my son is leaving for pilgrimage and I need to see him off. And your eldest daughter? She’s going this year?

If heaven is willing, she is indeed. In the meantime, yes, leave the gentleman with me. We’ll take him in tonight and perhaps figure out how to get him to the capital. A safe and swift trip for you, Rahn, and a Journey full of heaven’s grace for your son!

After Rahn left, Master Brii re-filled the coffee cups and asked, You came overland across the border instead of flying into the capital. Is that what she did?

Brian nodded, Yes. She and Ved, the guy she was with, wanted to do a little tour of the neighboring countries in the few weeks before the pilgrimage. And it’s much more expensive to fly into your capital, he added apologetically. She wasn’t in the capital when she called home, because she mentioned going there after visiting Ved’s family, or House I guess you’d call it.

Where is his House?

I understand it’s about forty kilometers east of here just off Highway 4. The Consul told her parents that, but that’s all the address they could get.

Still my jurisdiction perhaps. What’s the name of the House? I don’t remember a Ved in the area.

His House is called ‘Mouth of the River’.

I’ve heard of it. It’s in another jurisdiction, but not far. I know the Protecting Master there. A good person. Her parents have talked to him?

No, I don’t think so. They never made it outside the capital city. The national officials encouraged the family to let them handle all of the local contacts. The Adlers tried to come out to visit Ved’s family, but couldn’t arrange for a way to get out there. Apparently, his House doesn’t even have a phone or any address that anyone but a local person could find. But his family somehow passed along some information during the investigation. The officials in the capital shared it with the Adlers. They confirmed that Jenny and Ved were there before the pilgrimage started last year. Ved introduced Jenny as his wife and they stayed with them a few days. That’s all his House will confirm. Evidently, they aren’t worried. I’m told that families don’t expect to hear anything during the forty days of pilgrimage. But, isn’t it unusual for them not to hear when it’s over?

It’s not unusual to hear nothing in the first week or so, if the pilgrimage was ended at a remote area. And they don’t always last forty days. Last year’s lasted fifty-two. But information on every pilgrim’s Start and End is recorded. I can assure you nothing would have happened on the Journey. All public safety officials get logs of injuries and mishaps. I don’t recall seeing any American names on one in the last few years. And if someone was seriously injured or lost, it would have been a big deal. Brii paused a moment. How shall I say this? Please don’t take offense, but our country’s customs are very different from yours. Did her family approve of her being here? Is there any chance that she’s deliberately silent? Is there any chance that she’s not really lost? Maybe she just doesn’t want to go back to America.

We’ve considered that, believe me. It’s true that her family didn’t want her to settle outside the US, and the idea of, uhm, multiple spouses, is not a popular one with us. There was tension before she left, but she did call them before the pilgrimage started. And they’re sure that even if they disagreed strongly with what she was doing, she would still send them a note to let them know where she was.

Perhaps she’s heard of cases where foreign families pay to have someone kidnap their children who marry here to force them home. How did the phone call end? On a positive note? Or was it tense?

Everyone here seems to conclude that she’s deliberately hiding. That’s why the parents are frustrated.

I understand the frustration. But look at it from our perspective: here’s a young lady voluntarily traveling with a man who is not a close relative. To us, that means they’re married. You said yourself that Ved introduced Jenny to his parents as his wife. But you, representing her family, refer to him as the guy she was traveling with. Already we have a different idea of the situation. Is she here because she thinks her parents cannot accept Ved as her husband? And is she right? Do you understand why officials here might not see this strictly as a missing person case?

I do understand that. So do they. That’s why they’re sending someone who can be objective about it. I’m here as a good faith gesture on their side. They know they’re far too emotional about this, but they’re very worried. You say you have daughters. What if one went to the US and you never heard from her again? What if every American you talked to said, ‘she’s probably hiding so that you don’t make her go back home’? Anyway, they asked me to assure everyone that she doesn’t have to say where she is. They just need to know that she’s ok and that she’s reasonably happy. They’re willing to live with that for awhile.

Brii sighed deeply. It’s getting late. I need to close up. Tomorrow, I won’t open the shop. My daughter and Honored Son will become pilgrims in two days, so there is some preparation to be done. But first I’ll take you to Ved’s Sending House and we’ll talk to them. Tonight I’ll call the Protecting Master of that jurisdiction as a courtesy. I’ll see what he knows. She didn’t stop here for her entry card; I would have remembered that. That means that she would have gotten her card from him. Since she went on a pilgrimage, there should also be a record of the Journey’s Start and one of the End. Most pilgrims from that area go to the same temple as ours do to begin their Journey. I know many people there and they keep good records.

Brian was encouraged at this bit of news. He relaxed a little and said, Thank you very much. Uhm, I need to find a hotel. Is there one around?

You don’t know much about out country, I think. Hotels are a new idea for us. Our Houses take hospitality as a serious responsibility. We’ve made a few hotels in the capital because tourists are uncomfortable staying with us. But out here, there are no hotels. If you have no objections, I was going to take you to my House.

That’s very kind. I couldn’t possibly have any objections other than inconveniencing you. If you wish to call home first and see if it’s ok with your wife…or wives...and I guess your… Brian blushed slightly and stopped, searching for a different way of phrasing the concept.

It would not be seen as an inconvenience. For us, a guest is a gift from heaven. So, tonight you’ll stay with my House. Tomorrow we’ll go see Ved’s House, and then we’ll find a way for you to continue to the capital. It’s a very difficult time of year that you’ve come. The bells calling the pilgrims to start their journey will ring in two days. Everyone will be very busy with that. Do you know much about it? Do you realize up to ten percent of the population makes the Journey and the rest of us take care of them?

I tried to read as much as I could before I came. I’m confused about a lot of it, though.

Then it’s fortunate for you that you’ve come to me. I wrote a little book about it. Here, you can buy it very cheaply. How’s the price? OK?

Brian read the tag and shrugged. I haven’t changed money yet. Where’s the closest place to do it?

Everyone here takes US dollars as well. Give me four and we’re done. A good price?

It seems reasonable.

Good, here, let’s go.

As they walked out of the shop, Brian asked, If tourists’ cards are stamped wherever they go, why couldn’t the officials track her right away?

Remember first of all that the card is only collected when she leaves. Generally, foreigners don’t stay more than a few weeks and we don’t need day-to-day information while they’re here. If they stay longer than six months, and it’s very rare that they do, they must register for a different card that documents their local address. But, keep in mind that pilgrimage is different. Pilgrims aren’t allowed to carry anything at all, not even papers of any kind. Foreigners do occasionally participate, but they surrender their cards and passports as well as all of their other personal belongings at the Journey Start. Now the question for us is: are there pilgrimage records for her? If so, we know where she was for 52 days. The End of Journey record lists the routes the pilgrim took and all places stopped at along the way. You’ll read it in the book, of course, but a pilgrim must stop and pray at every shrine, temple, and church he passes. He memorizes them so that he can report them for the Journey’s End record. This helps us plan how to accommodate our young travelers in future years.

But what if the pilgrim forgets, or neglects to mention a site? How can they remember all of them, especially if they can’t carry any paper to write it down on?

They don’t forget. At their retiring prayers each night, they pray for each site they have passed so far. It teaches them to be more attentive to what’s around them and slows them down so that they don’t race by everything. Reciting them at nightly prayers also serves the same function as mantras or rosary prayers do: it stills the mind from distraction by occupying it with repetition.

But is there a way of knowing for sure which they’ve passed? Do the temples also document who passes by?

No, of course not. There are too many pilgrims, and what would be the point? Many of the smaller shrines in remote areas are unattended. And the pilgrim has no reason to be untruthful about it. There are no rewards for the number passed. Some go to only one shrine and stay there for the entire time. Most, though, take the opportunity to travel the land and go as far and wide as they can. In the end, it’s where their destiny calls them and how they choose to respond.

Has it ever happened that there were no End of Journey records for a particular pilgrim?

Indeed it has, my friend, and that makes our job exciting. Every shrine or temple that has Journey’s Start records waits to receive the End of Journey records from the temples where the pilgrims ended the pilgrimage. On rare occasions, pilgrims get their unique number wrong so the officials have to do the process of elimination to match a Journey’s End record with another temple’s Start records. But it’s not as hard as you might think. The temples all talk to each other when there are mismatches and they share information. And both Start and End records have identifying information, which helps. Now I think they’ve even started including pictures. In the past, before digital photos, fax machines, and email, the Journey’s Start temple always had a handful of unaccounted-for records for the first month of two, waiting for the records from particularly remote Ending points. But now, within a week everybody’s records get matched up and sent to the capital. Then the poor souls in the central records office have to make a physical and electronic database archive of everyone. It takes several months, of course. There are thousands of pilgrims every year. Not many when you consider what the Holy Lands get, but as you’ll read in the book, we handle things far differently.

But what happens if they never receive an End of Journey record? What if someone abandons the pilgrimage before it’s over, or doesn’t end it at a temple? What if someone is injured?

Even if they abandon the Journey two days into it, they must get a Journey Ended record at a temple before their personal belongings are returned to them. It happens, it’s no big deal. If they’re injured, the doctor contacts the nearest temple to handle the End of Journey records. But keep in mind, most people don’t actually end the Journey at the temple. That’s just where the documentation is handled. Most people Journey with their Initial Marriage partners in order to find others to form a House with. For them, wherever they end the Journey is where they establish their House. Then holy guides from the nearest temple create their End of Journey records and make sure that the name of their new House is registered properly. I suspect your lost lady established a House with Ved and some others in a rather remote location.

Could be. But is there any way to know for sure? What if she got lost? What if she’s still lost?

"Believe me, if any temple doesn’t get an End of Journey record for one of their starting ones, they send out notices with identifying information to all shrines and temples, and they usually get the End record very soon after. If they don’t, they send out alerts to the pilgrim’s Sending House, Protecting Masters, hospitals, and media outlets. It’s a big deal and everyone looks diligently for the lost person. It’s happened only four times in the nineteen years that I’ve had this job. In three of the cases, the records were lost in transit or misdelivered. Nowadays, the information is emailed or faxed first, with hard copies delivered later. There was a tragedy in only one case. The pilgrim fell while crossing through a particularly remote and rugged area and broke both legs. He died of exposure and starvation,