The Warrior's Training Seems to End

"You see now why it is funny
you called me Sweet Water,"
said the young woman,
sweeping her arms wide,
"considering this City is my Home."

They had marched quite a journey
to come to this place where water and sky
competed for recognition
as Keeper of the Bright and the Blue.

Lighthouses, like stiff red ribbons,
cut into the sky;
and tall sturdy buildings
yellow as a frosty dawn
stood solidly braced, surpported
by columns of towering white.

"It is a bright city,"
the man observed as they walked its streets.
Tthe woman nodded.
"This time of year, yes."
And she thought for a moment before adding,
"She takes this season to beg our pardon for the winters she gives
--when all is grey, and for many months at that--
when it is winter."

She stopped and looked up at one large building
a monolith 'longside its neighbors.
She said, "Here we are."

The man perused the architecture.
"Many windows I see,
tall, narrow windows.
And not an arm's breadth betwixt a pair of them."

"True enough," agreed the woman.

"So why do I think this palace
still promises heavy darkness in its interior?"

She studied him strangely and smiled.
"Shall we see if it speaks truth to you?"

Inside the palace,
the woman was suddenly
known.
And those who went about their business in that place
--though they ignored the man entirely--
showed deference to this one woman.

And the warrior-to-be began to harbor
that besetting thought again:
Maybe I'll meet someone
-- influential--through her
after all.

But she merely took him to stand in a dark corner
facing a meeting of two stone walls, a place
where interior mists hung long into the day-hours
free of the burn of sunlight,
for the palace indeed proved dark
and almost mossy.

"Why are we in this corner?"
he asked.

"We are here to see what I brought you to see.
Be relieved, for I was afraid we might not find
such as her.
Lately, those hired to keep things pure and clean
do quite a thorough job of running her off,
though they fail entirely
to drive away mist and mustiness.
You were right, were you not?"

"What in the world are we talking about?"
the man cried, scanning the walls
growing frustrated,
realizing his fantasies of meeting
some diplomat
or general were even yet
dreams unrealized.

"Look and see--" she pointed with a jerk of her hand.
So the man peered.
Then squinted, and peered harder.
"All I see is a cobweb with a small spider ruling over it."

"And high upon the wall she is, too! Though a lizard would have served as well."
And the maiden sighedg contently.
"Well, that's it then.
You have seen the four counselors."

"How can you say that?"
He'd grown quite emphatic.
"How can you say you've fulfilled your promise
to introduce me to those who would train me well
for success in warfare.
Where is the warrior who would teach me the ways
to go up against a foe?"

"You balk?
Indeed, you know more than you realize.
You think all counselors must teach with words?
You think all must demonstrate deeds
already translated?
And do you think all learners will only learn from their own kind?"

They walked silently to an opening,
a portico that opened onto
a formal garden.

"Now will you consider what the four have shown you?" she pleaded.

"Well..." the man finally chose to engage in her game.
"The conies are weak animals,
as far as warfare goes.
They could hardly prove victorious against any predators,
but their strength is in their fortress--
living in the stones as they do."

"Yes," said the woman,
and the beginning of a smile
sparkled in the word.

"A single ant is likewise powerless
but in great numbers
and with much of their work done
in places unoccupied and unobserved
by others,
he is not often bothered by enemies."

"Yes, again," she said.

"One locust is easy prey,
but a swarm of them can destroy a village
and not by attacking an enemy per se, rather
by destroying the food of his future."

"Is there more from this small creature you would learn?"

"I would note this:
one locust is easy prey,
so what to do should the head locust be killed?
Are all lost?
Nay, for all locusts are as the head, in a sense.
Together they read the signs,
and when they perceive a reaching,
a magic number,
all lift as a unit.
And swarm to their destiny.
The loss of one is of no effect
on the whole."

He glanced back at the dark palace interior
from their stance on the sunny marble plaza.
"As for the spider.
She too is small and easily killed."
Then he smiled a secret smile.
"But, she is small and unobtrusive,
often colorless, and her web is nigh invisible.
Shecan just as easily make her home on the wall
of a king as a pauper.
And this is strength indeed!"
So the warrior to be realized, quite suddenly, that
he had much to consider
about the strength surrounding weakness,
a strength often neglected
by warriors of more common fare.
"How do you know such things?"
he turned a more humble eye upon the maiden,
seeing for the first time she was not so young
after all.
Youth floated filmy around her--
or maybe agelessness--
and her smiling eyes could have seen many years.
He began to raise comment, when
at that moment,
a serving maid, one carrying a crystal pitcher,
paused to bow to this woman who had been his guide.

"Do I state your bein wrong in calling you
Sweet Water, when you should be called
Lady Spider?" he asked, almost winking.
So she laughed.
"You may use my given name.
Chehas."
Then she glanced over her shoulder, and
taken with a sudden fancy--
one sparked by a breath of breeze
wafting verdant garden fragrance
across the plaza tiles.
"Wait here.
I'll be right back."

He waited while she scampered into the garden.
He studied the palace balconies,
the people's coming and going
along the dim recesses.
None paid him any regard.
Nor did he expect any,
until he began to wonder if she'd forgotten him, too,
when suddenly she scampered out of the brush.
A garland dangled loosely
from her hand.

"It is my expectation," she explained.
Layin her fingers on each flower
with singular attention, she said,
"Yarrow at the base of all, for it is the flower of war.
"But it entwined with oak leaves, the indicator of bravery."
Then touching a subtle blue berry, "Juniper for protection.
Mint to mark your virtue."
Then after taking a deep nasal breath, she smiled,
"And the sweetness of chamomile to renew you energy
even in adversity."

She reached her arms up,
and soon he saw a fringe of flowers
just above his eyebrows.
"May the truth of this garland mark thee well,"
she gifted him, and blessed him and bid him farewell.