Chapter 4
Summer, 1985"Sethrael!" Mithrael called for the third time. He was beginning to get angry. He knew that his son could hear him, but he could not understand why he would not answer.
"Se—" His words were cut short by the sharp sting of a stone hitting his thigh. He turned quickly, just in time to see his son hide behind a tree.
Mithrael ran to his son's hiding place, and before the boy could flee, grabbed the back of his tunic.
Five-year-old Sethrael looked up into his father's angry face and realized that he was in trouble. He tried to hide the sling behind his back, but Mithrael had already seen it. He turned the boy around, took the sling out of his hand, and placed it in his own belt.
"What have I taught you about aiming the sling at other people?" he asked angrily.
Sethrael swallowed nervously. "You said not to do it because someone could be injured."
"Then why did you do it? Did you wish to injure me?"
The boy looked down at the ground and shook his head.
"Look at me," his father said.
Sethrael looked back up at his father.
"You will not get this back until you have proven that you can be trusted with it."
Sethrael nodded.
"What did I tell you would happen if you did this again?"
Again, he swallowed. "I would be punished."
"And so you shall. You will do women's work today," he said. "And tomorrow morning, you will go to Elder Kasha and ask him to teach you the Lesson of Nathda."
Sethrael looked at his father in horror. "Daka, please! Don't make me go to Elder Kasha!"
"You must learn to use your weapons wisely, Seth. If I cannot trust you with a sling, do you think I could trust you with a bow and arrows? You will not be allowed to use your weapons until you have learned this lesson. Now, go help your Methara."
Being sent to do women's work was not a punishment because it was beneath him. All work was equally important, and both genders were equal in the Elven realm. In fact, the Elders consisted of both men and women, but only a woman could rule in their world. There was no King, only a Queen. To be sent to do the work of the opposite gender meant that you had failed to do the work of your own. Girls were often sent to do men's work as punishment for not performing their own tasks with care.
With a heavy sigh, Sethrael went to find his mother. He had never been to Elder Kasha for lessons before, but he had heard stories from the boys who had. One had told him that the elder had threatened to cut off his ears because he did not use them to listen. Another almost lost his tongue for lying. He wondered what Elder Kasha would cut off him for having struck his father with a rock.
As he got closer to where his mother was working, he slowed down, trying to look innocent. "Aya, Metha," he greeting his mother. "Do you need any help today?"
His mother looked up at him. "What are you being punished for?"
He shrugged. "Who said I was being punished?"
She tried to hide her smile. "You do not help me unless your Dakara is punishing you."
"I help you make healing potions," he said defensively.
"That is because you like potions. Now, why is your Dakara punishing you?"
He sighed. "I sort of accidentally shot him with my sling."
She raised an eyebrow. "Accidentally?"
"Sort of," he mumbled, looking at the ground.
She shook her head. "I hope he took it away from you."
He sighed again and dropped to the ground beside her. "He did. He said I couldn't have it back until I proved I could be trusted with it. And I have to go see Elder Kasha tomorrow."
"We need water from the spring," she said. "Bring back two holders."
He knew he would have to do the heavy stuff. He got the leather water holders and went to the spring.
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As he lay wrapped in his furs that night, he overheard his parents talking.
"Lie still, Mithrael, and let me put this on the bruise."
"I do not need it, Elsbeth. I am fine."
"You are not fine," she said, and then laughed. "Stop that! I am trying to heal you! Now lie still and let me concentrate."
After a moment, his mother spoke in a more serious tone. "Why are you sending Sethrael to Elder Kasha tomorrow?"
His father sighed. "Because he must learn to be responsible with his weapons."
"But this punishment is too severe, Mithrael."
"Elsbeth, if he were to injure another Elf, the punishment would be even worse."
"I do not like that Dakaras send their sons to learn these lessons from Elder Kasha. It seems very cruel to me."
"And, yet, he will learn his lesson. That is what matters."
The next morning after breakfast, Sethrael found Elder Kasha beneath the branches of Eldartha, sharpening a large knife on a smooth stone.
Sethrael bowed low and waited to be acknowledged.
"Why have you come to me?" the Elder asked.
"My Dakara sent me to ask you to teach me the Lesson of Nathda," he replied nervously. And though his head was still bowed, his eyes were fixed upon the sharp knife in the elder's hand.
"Sit," he said, pointing to a spot in front of him. Sethrael sat cross-legged on the ground and watched as Elder Kasha raised the knife to examine it. It glistened in the sun as he twisted it back and forth, and then tested its edge with his finger.
"Nathda was a boy who had reached the age of 5 full seasons." He looked at Sethrael. "About your age, I think."
Sethrael swallowed nervously.
"He had learned to use a sling, and his Dakara had taught him well. Nathda could hit almost anything he aimed at, no matter how fast it was moving. All the people would watch him with wonder and say, 'He will be a great hunter some day.'
"But Nathda had one very bad habit. He did not listen when his Dakara told him never to aim the sling at another person. Over and over, his Dakara tried to teach him this lesson, but Nathda did not listen. And then one day, Nathda hit a small child with a stone from his sling. The child was little more than a baby, and the injury was bad. The child crossed over into the Summerland."
Sethrael gasped. No one that young should cross into the Summerland.
"And so the Elders got together to decide what must be done about Nathda. It was too dangerous to allow him to use a weapon. But what can a boy do if he cannot hunt? And, so, the Elders knew that there was only one solution: they would have to make Nathda a girl."
Sethrael felt the blood drain from his face.
"Do you know how hard it is to turn a boy into a girl?" the Elder asked irritably, as if the difficulty were Sethrael's fault.
Sethrael, his eyes wide with fear, shook his head.
"Do you know the difference between girls and boys?"
Sethrael nodded.
"Then you should know that, to make Nathda a girl, he had to have his bits removed."
The boy gasped and covered his own bits protectively with both hands.
"I was the one to perform the removal. I used this very knife," he said, holding it out to show to Sethrael.
By this time, the boy was shaking with fear. He leaned away from the knife as it came toward him.
"Of course, he bled quite a bit. The healers had to use lots of medicines that burned until he was healed. Then, of course, we had to dress him like a girl and give him a new name. After that, he learned to do women's work very well, but he was never allowed to hunt or touch a weapon again." He paused for a moment, giving his knife a little more attention. "Now, what was it exactly that you did to cause your Dakara to send you here?"
His mouth was so dry he could barely speak. "I-I-I a-accidentally shot my Dakara with a stone from my s-s-sling," he said.
"Accidentally, eh?"
Sethrael nodded.
"You know, I've cut off the tongue of a boy for lying."
"I-It was not an accident," Sethrael corrected quickly. "I-I did not think. I aimed it at his leg. I did not want to hurt him. I know better now. I will never do it again. Please, Elder Kasha! Do not make me a girl!"
The Elder looked at the panicked boy carefully. "I think you have learned your lesson, so I do not suppose I will have to make you a girl today. But next time, I will not go so easy on you."
"There will not be a next time. I swear it. I have learned my lesson, Elder Kasha."
"Very well, then, I suppose you can tell your Dakara that you have learned the Lesson of Nathda. Go, then. He will be pleased to know that you are still a boy."
Sethrael got up and bowed low before the elder. "Thank you, Elder Kasha," he said, then ran as fast as he could to where his Dakara was waiting for him.
"Daka! Daka! I learned my lesson. I will never aim my sling at anyone again. I swear it."
"You have been to Elder Kasha?" he asked.
"Yes, Daka, and I am still a boy. He gave me a second chance."
Mithrael nodded. He took the sling out of his belt. "Can you be trusted with this now?"
"Yes, Daka. You can trust me."
His father handed him the sling. "I hope I will not have to send you back to Elder Kasha."
"No, Daka, you will not. Not ever. I swear it."
"If you aim even near someone—"
"No, Daka. I will be careful. I will not even aim in the direction where someone is standing. Not even close. I swear it."
"All right, then. Go and practice, and when I call you, answer me the first time."
"Yes, Daka. Thank you, Daka." He gave his Dakara a hug and ran off to practice his shooting.
When he was out of sight, Mithrael looked over to where Elder Kasha was sitting. The Elder was grinning at him. Mithrael grinned back, nodded his head in thanks, and went to watch his son practice the sling.