Aaishira

The temple stood on a hill rising above the village, like a silent observer. On the terraces around the stairs, were scattered countless beehives of all sizes, fields, and fruit trees. When I finally reached the top, I had to sit down for a moment on the last step and catch my breath. Below me was the village, which seemed lost in a sea of grass surrounding it. I decided that I must come here at night sometime to see the lights of the shrines scattered across the fields.

“Well, if it isn’t a bashar?” a voice called from behind me.

I turned around quickly. There stood a small figure. I immediately realized who it was. I jumped to my feet so quickly I almost stumbled down the slope and bowed.

“Honourable aaishira, may the great Qu guide your steps, both by night and by day, in both happiness and hardship.”

The woman returned my bow lightly. She was small, barely reaching my shoulders. She was around forty years old. Wrinkles had begun to form around her eyes and mouth, but she still radiated an unusual beauty. Her hair was braided into countless thin braids, with small bells or jingles attached, meant to ward off evil spirits. I was shocked again when I realized one of her eyes was sealed with wax, just like the woman I couldn’t stop thinking about.

“What is a bashar like you doing on the sacred mountain?” she asked sharply.

It was then I realized she was addressing me as “bashar,” which literally means “one not to be trusted.” Aaishira was more suspicious than the other villagers. I didn’t object.

“I’ve traveled a long way to study your culture and customs. I wanted to see the shrine and… and pray,” I said. The last part wasn’t entirely true, but I wanted to earn her favour.

“Do you believe in the great Qu and his souls?”

“I believe in spiritual forces. I already made an offering to Itsha yesterday,” I replied as neutrally as possible.

One of the priestess’s eyes narrowed into a small slit and she studied me suspiciously for a moment, but then it opened wide and the tense muscles in her face relaxed. She even looked somewhat friendly.

“Will you accept my blessing, bashar? Only then may you enter the temple.”

I nodded. Aaishira approached me, gently closed my eyelids, and ran her gloved hand over them, which was completely coated in wax. It felt pleasant against my skin. I remembered that a similar ritual is performed by the Fukudjashar tribe in northern Lauparu, though they use goat’s milk instead. I was only vaguely familiar with the local traditions, so I hadn’t expected this. The woman opened my eyelids and gestured to follow her.

Together, we walked to the temple. It was a small building entirely made of wooden beams and planks. They were all richly carved. Carpets hung from the walls and ceilings. Bees were swarming everywhere, their buzzing blending into a nearly constant hum. Before I entered, I had to remove my shoes. The priestess was already barefoot. She handed me a candle and lit it. She motioned for me to place it on one of the ten altars. I chose the altar of the god of wisdom and knowledge, Uhu. I knelt and lingered in a short prayer, then rose and walked back to the woman, who was waiting humbly.

It seemed I had at least gained some of her respect. It was evident that she was pleased that I had made the journey all the way here to pray.

“What’s your name?” she asked me as I put my shoes back on.

“Olgrin Dux,” I answered simply.

“Olgrin Dux,” the priestess repeated softly. “An unusual name, but that’s to be expected from a foreigner. But you speak our language and understand our customs. How so?”

A stranger who is not a stranger. Those words suddenly popped into my head. Nervously, I shifted from one foot to the other and tried to explain to aaishira. With her brow furrowed in concentration, she listened to my story about the universities and cities where smoke clouds the sky and noise never stops. When I finished, there was a moment of silence. Then, before the woman could ask anything else, I blurted out: “May I ask a question now?”

“If it’s within my power, I will answer anything, Olgrin Dux,” the priestess replied seriously, looking at me with her single eye.

I was a bit thrown off that she addressed me by my full name, but I gathered my courage and said, “Why is one of your eyes covered with wax? What does it mean?” I feared the worst, that it might be some tribal taboo or secret that no one was allowed to know. But to my surprise and relief, aaishira simply ran her fingers thoughtfully over the wax-covered eye and, while still staring at me with her intense gaze, explained: “This is a protection against chations, ifrizums, hukutchams, and other evil spirits. It is through the eyes that they find their way in one’s body, and that’s why we aaishiras must protect them.”

“Wait, shouldn’t you be the ones most resistant to evil spirits?” I asked, confused.

“Tell me, who is most constantly exposed to illness?”

For a moment, I thought, then it dawned on me. “A doctor!” I exclaimed.

The woman nodded. “Yes, a doctor encounters illnesses and patients every day. And that’s why they have the greatest risk of getting sick. It’s the same with us. Evil spirits are always swarming around us, looking for their ways inside.”

I swallowed dryly and looked her up and down. I felt a little uncomforatbe. I really had to push myself to ask another thing that had been troubling me.

“And… could this be also… prevention or treatment for ordinary people?”

Aaishira narrowed her eye suspiciously again. After a moment, she reluctantly replied. “Yes, there is. But only in extreme cases.”

“Has it ever happened that one would need to cover… both eyes?”

“…Such a wretch would have a soul darker than night,” the woman answered quietly and ominously. Then she turned and fell silent.

I didn’t ask any more questions.