Dream of the Weaver – Prologue

Prologue

The Difference in Sex

The first time Harks noticed there’s a difference between men and women, as far as he could remember, was about twenty years ago. That would be when he was about five. It had to be a rainy day, or his mother would not have woven a “glowing disk” — he recalled calling the shield by that name — on top of them so they wouldn’t get wet. It was probably not the first time his mother wove in front of him, but it was the first time he remembered. Harks was immediately mesmerized. Now that he thinks about it, it had to be the first time he saw anyone weave magic. He is never really interested in anything, but as soon as he saw the shield conjure up in the air, he was very excited. He remembered vividly how he begged his mother to teach him how to do it.

“Foolishness,” his mother had said, “weaving is for ladies. Men don’t weave. It’s a specialty reserved for people like your mother.”

 

Harks shivers. A breeze has passed again. How lonely it is to be the only person at an abandoned beach. How lonely it is, when there should be two people, not one. The waves that rush for the shore are always changing, but his mind remains the same. The only thing that never changes is supposed to be the change itself. How come he never changes? How come she never changes? In some ways, though, Harks thinks he’s like the waves, especially during the night. The sea waves always reflect the light from the star, always reflect, but can never get. Harks lets out a sigh. 

Harks did not take the reply very well at all. He would not tell anyone how he reacted, but every time his mother mentioned the incident her eyes would roll up at that particular point. In any case, Harks knew then that there was a difference between sexes.

Perhaps mother’s mistaken and I’m actually a lady, Harks had thought.

To this day, Harks cannot remember what had invoked that idea in him, and he was still only five at that time! It’s funny how a sudden innocent thought can change a person’s life.

He began seriously observing his mother’s behavior from then on. He caught his mother weave a couple of times, sometimes to start a fire in the bedroom (he did not know why his mother let the servants build a fire the traditional way in the kitchen) and one time to dry his father’s clothes for a dinner.

 

His father was one thing he’s puzzled about. He is sure he had a father, but he has no recollection of who he was or what he looked like. His mother had said his father died not long after he had turned six. He cried so heavily then that he fainted for two days. From then on, memories of his father vanished from him totally. It’s surprising what one’s mind could do to protect oneself. If it did not shut that part of his memory from him, it was likely that he would never come out of the coma.

One thing he had found out was that sometimes his mother would grow very tired after a weave. The time she dried his father’s clothes, for example, he has not seen her do the same trick again. One day, about a week after the beginning of observation, Harks felt confident enough to follow his mother’s gestures, hoping that he could weave the same spell, and thus proving to his mother that he’s actually a lady. It wasn’t until about a fifth try did he see a glimpse of a Thread. He was a very unhappy boy at that time. He had decided to give up.

His sister’s birthday came a month later. Telerine’s just turned ten. Two years from then she would be going to the Weaver’s Academy. Her mother had decided to give her some fore training first. The very first thing her mother taught her, and the easiest of all weaves, was to create a soft glow that shone in the air. She was vaguely disappointed that her daughter’s talent in weaving was not very strong. It took Telerine a whole day and a half to weave the weak glow.

Being a weaver is something of a status in the Avonova. It’s almost a guarantee to rich marriage. It’s also an Avonovan Law that when a king or a prince reaches thirty, he must have at least a queen who is the most talented weaver graduate, called the Mistress Weaver. Judging from Telerine’s performance, she’d be lucky if a moderately rich man takes her.

And Telerine knew, which was why she got so upset she decided to give her brother a hard time.

 

“Harks, will you marry only a good weaver?”

 

Harks didn’t really understand what his sister meant. “Why should I?”

 

“Because we’re a rich family, that’s why. Rich men marry powerful weavers! But that’s alright. You’re filthy. You don’t like to bathe; you don’t take care of yourself. You just try to cry you way out. If all rich men are like you — and I have no doubt they are — I’d be worried if I were a really good weaver.”

 

There’s no implication on intellectual limitations by saying this, but Harks didn’t really understand what his sister had just said. So instead, he said “Go away. You’re just trying to show off the fact that you can make magic and I can’t.”

 

Telerine’s eyes sparked on that particular comment. “That’s right, men can’t weave! It is still better to be a bad weaver then a man with no talent.”

 

That really hit the spot. And surely Harks was sobbing before he knew it. “I can do whatever you can, and better too!” Isn’t it funny that all children behave the same way?

 

“Oh yeah, can you do this?” Telerine waved a few gestures in the air. She was careful not to foul the weaving up. It would be terribly embarrassing to fail this weave now. With a largely exaggerated last gesture, a pale glow of an airy orb appeared in front of her. It lasted for about half a minute.

 

“Perhaps if I do it again slowly you can try to follow. Not that you’ll ever get it, mind you.”

 

Telerin started to repeat the gestures. Harks followed, largely because he had wanted to weave. Telerine cracked before finishing the third gesture. “You’re supposed to follow, not mirror! When I gesture with my right hand, use your right hand as well. Well, anyway, that’s enough insult for the day. I’m not going to waste time on you to teach you something that can’t be learned.”

 

“You’re just afraid!”

 

“Of what? Of you doing better then me? Oh, I get it, you think I can’t do it the second time!” Without saying further, Telerine began to weave the glowing orb again. She’d probably blame it on the fact that she was too angry then. But in any case, the orb didn’t get woven.

 

Harks might be stupid, at least on imitating other people, but he had a fairly good memory. After seeing his sister weave the same magic for a second time, he was sure he could repeat it. The hard part was to swap hands. He repeated the gestures slowly — swapping the hands in his mind first. His sister was glaring at him in disgust the whole time. Harks finished the sequence with the exaggerated gesture of his sisters.

 

And his life changed at that instant.

 

A large, bright white airy orb glowed in front of him.

 

Harks was shocked and fell on the ground. Telerine didn’t fair any better. She dashed off Harks’ room while shouting madly “Mother! Come quickly, Harks is a lady!”

 

Some things run in the family.

 

Harks’ mother had a general idea of what’s happened on her way to Harks’ room. As soon as she entered the room, she knew Telerine didn’t weave it. It was a sad truth, but her daughter was a marginal weaver at best. She was baffled, but more because an orb that size and bright could only be woven by a talented weaver than the fact that her son was able to weave at all.

 

“Mother,” Harks said as soon as he saw his mother, “I’m a lady.”

 

“Why don’t we stop this foolishness before we talk?” his mother suggested.

 

Harks’ mother unraveled the weave fairly quickly.

 

“Harks, you’re still not a lady, so don’t you worry about it.”

 

But I want to be a lady, Harks thought.

 

“How could he have woven if he’s not a lady?”

 

“The ability to weave actually isn’t determined by whether you are a lord or a lady. You’ll learn all that when you grow older. Just because men don’t weave doesn’t mean they can’t, though it seems to be more inevitable each day.

 

“Harks, normally weaving isn’t harmful, but for someone as talented as you” and being a male “I must take you to the Academy. They can protest all they want. In the end, you’ll still be studying there.”

 

Harks can’t really blame his mother for acting on good intent. Then again, good intent doesn’t always result in good endings. In his case, sadly, it has turned sour.

The breeze chills his bones again. Perhaps it is time for me to move on, a time to change.It’s hard for him to actually move when his mind is always preoccupied with the past, with questions of what ifs. Tomorrow, I’ll definitely leave tomorrow.