Before nightfall, the sibko's clothing for the ritual arrived at the barracks in four large metal boxes. The four survivors gathered around the boxes, left neatly piled by the messengers, and did not know exactly what to do. Bret wondered if they should dance around them. Rena said maybe they should ignore them. Marthe, impatient, said just open them and get the job done.
Each opened the box with his or her name on it, and each found a different uniform. When they had donned them, Aidan noted that the clothing seemed to transform them from relatively drab-looking trainees into figures that bore at least a resemblance to actual warriors.
Bret wore a cape of falcon feathers dyed bright red, with a head drooping behind as a kind of unused hood. Underneath the cape was a dress uniform of Jade Falcon green with silver buttons, each delicately fashioned with a fighting BattleMech pictured on its surface. Red stripes went down the trousers of the outfit. He was particularly pleased with a dark leather belt with a massive Mech's-head belt buckle. Aidan's garments were similar, but his cape was black, and his jade green uniform was black-striped, while his buttons depicted a flying hawk in delicate, filigreed design. His belt buckle was a side view of a falcon going in for the kill (or at least that was how Aidan chose to interpret it.) Rena's cape was dyed a light green and her button-and-belt motif was a falcon with wings outstretched. For Marthe, the sender had chosen a deep purple cape. Her buttons and belt were decorated with various images of 'Mechs in ground combat. All of them were equipped with high black boots polished to a radiant sheen. The outfits had been precisely tailored to fit the cadets assigned to them. There was no way they could have exchanged uniforms.
They had dressed in some confusion, not knowing what to expect. What it turned out to be was Joanna leading two ranks of the camp personnel in a march. Directly behind her were four falconers from other training units. Joanna and the falconers were dressed similarly to the cadets, but with many medals and achievement patches on the basic uniform. Behind them was a line of orderlies and other support personnel, each in starched work uniforms. They walked in precise rhythm, reminding Aidan of what a band of 'Mechs might look like if they were to march in synchronous pattern. The idea was slightly ridiculous, but with Joanna and her cohorts, the march was impressive and even pleasing to look at because of its unified movements.
Joanna stopped at the door of the barracks, where the four resplendently dressed cadets stared out in disbelief. The buttons of her uniform depicted the stately Jade Falcon itself, perched apparently on an aerie, surveying for potential prey. With a gesture in which her hands seemed to revolve on her wrists like a 'Mech's arm rolling on its torso, she bid the cadets to come forward. They walked uncertainly to her.
Without speaking she gestured the cadets to line up in much the same way they would on the parade ground. Going from trainee to trainee, she inspected their clothing, managing to find something to adjust in each outfit. She straightened Aidan's collar, wiped a smudge off Rena's top button, adjusted Bret's belt buckle, and retied Marthe's cape. When satisfied, she backed away from them and rejoined the others, who had remained at stiff attention the whole time.
Joanna's voice broke the silence. "I am the Oathmaster! All are bound by this conclave, until they are dust and memories, and then beyond that time until the end of all that is."
"Seyla," whispered the gathered throng.
Her next words Aidan recognized as spoken in a Clan dialect of mountain tribes, but he could not make out the sense. As part of a ritual, perhaps the words signified something about origins. It was said that Nicholas Kerensky retired to a mountainside cache where Battle-Mechs and other war weapons were hidden, and there the concept of the Clans came to him. It was also said that he conceived the idea from watching several 'Mechs lined up in what seemed to him like a fighting attitude. He had been brooding about how to unify his dispersed and combative people so that one day they could return to the Inner Sphere and restore the Star League to its wayward worlds; a more immediate problem was how to do it while adhering to his father's fiercely austere theories about the need for the people to sacrifice on altars of Spartan necessity. While considering all this, he either fell asleep or had the vision. Whichever it was, he saw the 'Mechs of the cache transformed into a fighting horde, exhilarated by the blood and glory of warfare. When the dream or vision was over, he saw that he could organize his warriors in a new way, eliminate the Regular Army, with all its unfortunate sympathies to Inner Sphere political divisions, and reform it into separate clans that would compete with each other while devoting their energies to preparing for the return to the Inner Sphere. Each clan would have its own allegiances, its own particular beliefs. These would replace the old alliances and sympathies.
Whether she chanted of the Kerensky vision or of something else, Joanna's voice built to a deafening crescendo. Then she stopped suddenly, saying: "You are no longer cadets. Whether or not you succeed in becoming warriors, you have left the sibko and will be on your own in whatever caste to which you are assigned. Tonight we initiate you into your future, while you give up the ties to your past. Come with us."
Signaling to the others, she marched them away, gesturing for the four cadets to take up the rear and follow.
They came to a clearing lit by many fires. The group gathered around the flames of various fires, apparently taking up already chosen positions. Joanna stood alone by the largest blaze, in the center of the clearing. The firelight illuminated the Jade Falcon figure on her belt, making it seem alive and fierce. Its flickering was also reflected in her eyes, whose own natural flames had always been powerful enough. Now her eyes seemed those of some mythic demon or dragon, glowing with a mystery that Aidan knew could probably never be comprehended. It occurred to him that Joanna was certainly beyond his ken and always would be.
Joanna raised her arms above her head. Again the firelight changed her aspect. Something shiny in the sleeve of her dress uniform caught the light and sent it rocketing outward. Blinding flashes swept by the cadets' eyes briefly. For a moment Aidan was gripped by a fear that the fire would grow and envelop them all.
Then Joanna walked through the fire, actually took a step into it, then another, then was on the other side of it, walking toward them, no hint of pain in her glowing eyes or even the knowledge that she had passed through the fire.
Taking Marthe's hand, she told the other cadets to also link hands. Aidan grasped Marthe's other hand, and also took Rena's. Bret, looking frightened, followed Rena. Joanna led them forward toward the fire. It was a moment before Aidan realized that they, too, would walk through the flames. He had a sudden urge to release the hands of both women and bolt this clearing. But such timidity was, he knew, unClanlike. He felt all his muscles tighten as he continued forward.
Joanna again stepped into the fire without looking back. Marthe followed her without the slight hesitation that Aidan felt. But he was pulled forward by Marthe as he, in turn, drew Rena toward the fire. He wanted to close his eyes as he stepped into the flame, but his fascination with his own possible demise kept them open. Though he was only within the flames briefly, it seemed long enough to burn him to a shriveled darkness. The heat was tremendous, but he felt none of it within his high boots. It was then he realized that the footwear must have been treated beforehand to resist the flames. Still, as the flames warmed the rest of his clothing, he did not feel at all safe and was glad when he had stepped onto the ground on the other side of the fire.