The Lay of the Wanderer Part 4

The rod the reverend Father had given me I was to learn later, was what is called a nammastok, or tallastok which might best be rendered as story, history or naming rod. It is a means of recording information, not so much in the form of writing as through a collection of linked mnemonics, which serve those who understand them to record and recover information which is imbedded in the songs and stories of their oral traditions. The closest thing I can liken it to would be a series of footnotes without the text of the book, and indeed referring to notations in a number of books whose titles you are not given, but are expected to know already. All I could see at the time, sitting at the feet of my teacher, mentor and father was a piece of wood with small grooves, notches and patterns cut delicately into it.

“Well, then, Reverend Father, if I am not to begin with pleasantries, let us proceed to what we can at this point know. You have given me a stick, a carefully crafted rod which you tell me was part of my baby accoutrements. Not now having access to the other parts of the back-brace from which this had been presumably removed, I can not at this time state categorically that there was a back-brace, nor that this came from it. I do have sufficient reason to believe the truth of your story, or at least to believe your conviction that you are now telling me honestly what you know of this thing. Furthermore, you have, through the Historium’s carefully cross referencing of information received from you previously with information from other verifiable sources been granted the status of a ‘prima-facie source,’ and therefore a person whose statements I may safely be allowed to take at face value. That is to say, I am allowed to believe that you are trying to tell the truth as you know it, and that you are correct in your understanding within one-comma-five standard deviations. I could of course come back tomorrow, and you could then inform me that this thing the badge of office of a Marshal of the Army from some time before the Imperial act of Unification (NT. 1435.10.17:12:00; HT. 2006.Dec.15:13:00) and I would have to take this information under consideration, bearing in mind that you are still a heretofore reliable provider of information, even though the information you now provide seems to be at odds with the information you gave me the day before. After all, the wood could be both things at once.”

My master’s only response was to hum the first five bars of ‘The Lad From the Ups-and-Downs.’

“Now, given all of the above, and taking into account that you are, as my Father in History, as well as my guardian from an early age, as attested to by the records of the Historium Local Records Department, I will as a working hypothesis the information that this rod is in some way connected to me, if only by early association. But I will also venture to surmise that you have presented me with this artifact at this time because you believe it to be in some way a clue or key which I can use to discover something of my past and my genesis.”

The Reverend Father nodded his head and said nothing.

“Therefore…” I began. The reverend Father leaned quickly forward and peered up at me from under his left eyebrow. “Therefore..?” he prompted.

“Therefore I should think that the time has come for me to ready myself for my first Field Assignment, and that the theme of this Field Assignment is to be to investigate the meaning of and possible Historical Impact of this artifact.”

I sat back on my heels feeling proud of myself.

“Something like that, yes,” he said, nodding, “When will you start?”

“I shall have to petition for permission of Reverend Father Alain to leave the House of the Acolytes, of course..”

“Permission has been granted.”

“And then I should gather together provisions and equipment from the Historium Commissary..”

As I spoke, my father leaned across to the small cupboard standing against the wall, and, without rising, open a door, pulled out a pack and threw it down in front of me.

“Done.”

And then there are my personal belongings to collect form the Dormatory..”

He clapped his hands and one of the servants padded in behind me and lay a small bundle, done up in my Service Shawl beside me.

“Anything else?” he asked, smiling.

“Nothing that I can think of. I can leave at any time, if the Reverend Father wishes it.”

“Close, Xandra, but not quite accurate. The Reverend Father does not wish you to go, but he understands that it is time, and so he will regretfully allow you to go. And also, your education is as of yet deficient in one very important feature. Something that I have asked you to come here to learn today, and now. You can not leave at any time, Xandra, my son. You can only leave now.”

He reached across and took my hand, the first time I had had physical contact from the old man since I was a child.

“Xandra, remember this: There is no time but the present. Go.”

And so it was that I set forth on my first Field Assignment, to find out who I was, at seventeen minutes after three on ninth day of the eighth month in the one thousandth, five hundredth and eighteenth year of the New Time reckoning, or, 4:17 pm on October 7th, 2089, Historical Time.