by TJ Muir
“What happens in a sonko? And why would they need to hold one? What does this have to do with me?”
“A sonko is how they discuss things that affect the community- either a village or the Faenyr in general. As to why, that reaches beyond your arrival here. But they see you are being involved in some way that could affect other things.”
“Whaaat?” Jedda asked, looking at Cham as though the man had just said fish could fly. “What could my wanting to go to Treyu have anything at all to do with … whatever their stuff is?”
Cham paused, considering before he spoke. “Chenwa. Everything is connected. Nothing is unimportant. Imagine you are walking down a street. Doing absolutely nothing. You bump into a man. You think nothing of it. The man turns, and in that moment sees someone he hates and wishes dead, and kills the man. Or perhaps he turns, and in that moment sees a woman and falls instantly in love.”
“What are you talking about? Who cares about accidents and such?”
Cham sighed, holding up his hand. “It is not about the man. Not in this conversation. You, by being in a certain place, cause other events to happen, or not happen.”
“So,” Jedda said, catching the point. “If I did not bump into the man, he might not fall in love, or another man might be alive. Yes?”
Cham nodded. “Precisely. Even events that may seem completely harmless can change other events- making them happen, or not- and those events may not be harmless.”
Jedda looked around, realizing the Faenyr conversation had stopped, with all of them listening to Cham and Jedda. He saw heads nod slightly, seeing Jedda begin to comprehend.
Cham continued to explain to Jedda, on behalf of the council, even though he was not of their village. “The elders, the council, the Faenyr, are concerned for larger events they read in the Lya Chiqui. Their concern is that… the water will get disturbed, making waves, disrupting events, or making them to happen too soon, or too late.”
Jedda was getting tired and frustrated. He opened his mouth to protest, but Cham held up his hand.
“And they are concerned also for keeping you safe. Here, you are protected.”
“I know all this.”
Again the hand came up. “This is not about the Chan-mroa issues. This is about learning to control yourself and your magic. That could be a very real danger, to many.”
“But I am learning to control and use my magic,” he argued.
Ynith shook her head, intercepting Cham before he could explain further. “Others are helping to protect and keep you, and everyone, safe from another eruption.” She said, patiently correcting him. “You have much to learn still, before you will be safe outside the w’ashan.”
Jedda looked around at the Faenyr. He realized they had been watching him this whole time. He didn’t know how much Chanem they might speak, but surely they could read his expressions and tone of voice. “I am learning magic.”
“You are learning the very beginning. You can make a spark of fire, on a good day. And on your worst, you create firebombs in your sleep. Can you promise the next time will not harm someone by accident? Right now you are a danger to yourself and everyone around you.” This was the first time he had ever heard Ynith be anything less than accepting.
The elders spoke to Cham in Faenyr. It bothered Jedda to think of them talking about him and not wanting him to know what they were saying. Part of him knew the real reason was the ease of speaking in their own language. But at this point, he was feeling mean spirited and suspicious.
Finally, Ynith and Cham nodded, having come to some agreement, or understanding. Ynith looked to Jedda, smiling gently. “This advice that was sought,” she began, “does it begin to cast light on the path you walk?”
Jedda looked around at the others and then back at Ynith. Her words took him off guard, and he didn’t know what to say. He had expected a yes or a no, someone telling him it was a good idea, safe, or not. He hadn’t expected them to throw it back at him like this.
Now he had to consider everything he had heard. Zria appeared, refilling cups of tea. It seemed everyone needed a bit of a break at this point. No one seemed inclined to break the silence as they drank their tea. Jedda sipped from his cup, turning it in his hands, thinking about things.
He looked up at Cham. “So what are they telling me?”
“No one is telling you anything,” he said. “They are trying to make you see, to understand, the weight of your decisions and choices.”
“But I’m nobody,” he protested. As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he remembered what Cham had just tried to explain. He swore to himself, hating this maze of invisible logic, and cause and effect. He had thought what he wanted, had asked for, was simple. And yet here they were, complicating it.
“I understand I am walking a path where there is far more than I am capable of seeing,” he said.
Heads nodded all around.
“Does the advice cast light on the path? It shows there are things I do not see or understand, but not what those things are.” He looked around the circle as the Faenyr regarded him, revealing nothing. “Do I need to know what those things are?”
“Sometimes knowing something is not the wise path,” Ynith said. “Are there things the elders see around you? Perhaps. Yet speaking them, sharing them, can change them. Do you understand?”
Jedda considered. “Like Cham’s example. If I knew bumping into the man would cause something to happen, knowing it could change it. But if he was going to do something bad, then isn’t it better to change it?”
Ynith sat, putting her cup of tea aside, hands in her lap. “You speak of things that are good, or bad. That thinking is not the way. Always, things happen. Chanem will say it is a good thing or a bad thing. It simply is. People decide if it is good or bad. Often based on too little information and rarely with any amount of wisdom.”
“But a man gets killed. That must be bad.”
“What if that was a very bad person, about to do something terrible?” Ynith asked, turning the earlier example into a philosophy lesson.
Jedda was beginning to sense he was not going to find a definitive answer to tie it up neatly. He was beginning to think the Faenyr disliked neat and tidy. They were always vague, noncommittal, philosophical, and reasonable. They made him want to pull his hair out.
Ynith, ever cryptic, closed their discussion with a reminder to Jedda. “When once the river begins to flow, it does not return to its source, but instead, following its course forward to its destination.”
Jedda looked to Cham for an explanation. “Like the different paths we talked about before. Once a path is chosen, keep moving toward that destination. Changing paths can complicate things.”
Jedda wasn’t sure he agreed with that. But he wasn’t going to argue. He looked up, but the elders seemed to be done. They weren’t going to add anything further, and he wasn’t going to get a straight answer. “Is that it?” He asked Cham. “Are they done? Can we go?”
Cham nodded. “Yes. They have spoken. That is all they will do. There is reluctance, but the cause is unclear.”
The two of them stood. The elders nodded acknowledgment. Jedda nodded in return, a slight bow. And he took his leave. Maybe he would figure something out, or the lya chiqui would show him what he was supposed to do. He took a deep breath and decided to be patient.
Chapter Sixteen
Jedda liked the space around his little cabin, but sometimes he wished there were other people around. Most of the time he was only there long enough to change clothes, wash, and fall asleep.
He brought his breakfast outside and focused on his cup to heat up the tea. He smiled to himself. Much better than making a fire, and less mess. He sat on the deck, looking out over the city.
He liked it when he could make a fire start in the firepit, or when he could make snow-- which he had only seen a few times in his life. Now he could see snow whenever he liked. Hrulla had told him it took a lot more energy to make things go against what n
ature wanted. But it was still fun. He imagined how impressed Diya would be, and what she would look like with snow dancing all around her. And he imagined using magic to play pranks on Trey. Old Trey would have laughed and come up with a world of ideas for practical jokes. Jedda hoped the person Trey was becoming as the ruler of a power house would still play jokes on people.
Kirrin was far too level headed to appreciate magic and tricks and the others could all do magic themselves, so it was no great feat to impress anyone. But imagining the fun he could have with his friends only carried Jedda so far. He knew he was trying to cram a life's worth of learning into a short period of time. He was learning patience from the trees, but he still wasn't very good at it. He remembered how many hours and days he used to spend tracking people around Tatak Rhe, and spying on them.
He wondered what Trey would think of him now. He realized he was moping and forced himself to get up. He took a quick shower and put on fresh clothes, then headed for the north road, toward the horse pastures.
He ran into Kai, who was also on his way to the barns.
Jedda felt better as soon as he started brushing Jespen and putting the saddle on his back.
“You’re looking very fit and shiny these days,” he told the horse, who swished his tail. “No more city-chub on you, that’s for sure. Good solid muscle now.” He patted Jepson's shoulder. He was still a solid, slightly chunky horse, compared to the sleek glowing Tajynal horses. But Jespen had taken care of him, and he felt a special loyalty to the little fellow. Jedda scratched him under his chin as Kai came up with Kwidja.
The group he had found welcomed him. They had been playing with only three on a side. One of the players waved him over, and Kai headed to the other team. The batons were placed back at the bases for a fresh start.
Jespen played with more heart than the Tajynal horses who were all born to the game. But ultimately, he wasn't bred for the pounding. The game was fast and wild, and at the end Jespen was sore on one leg. It wasn't major, and Jedda took particular care to rub him down and work special herbs into the muscles. He butted his solid black head into Jedda's ribs as if to say 'don't worry about it,' but Jedda felt bad, all the same.
Jedda worried about turning the horse out with the herd, but Kai said it would be fine. “This,” Kai said, rubbing the thick muscle above Jespen's hock, “is a baby injury?”
“You mean it's small? Minor? Not bad?” Jedda asked, trying to figure out what Kai was trying to explain.
He nodded. “Yes. Minor. Horse will be okay in one or two days. Moving with the herd will be good for him. But no qwatcha until then.”
“Yes," Jedda said. "He is a good fellow and has learned how to be quick. But, in truth, he is not mine. I should not keep playing qwatcha with him like this. He belongs to a good friend, who loves him dearly.”
“Come.” Kai headed west toward the herds, beckoning for Jedda to follow.
“What about Jespen?” Jedda called after him.
“Bring. Turn loose with the herd,” Kai shouted back over his shoulder.
Jedda hurried to catch up with Kai, and let Jespen go loose when they reached sight of the herd.
Kai was heading towards the herd, looking through the horses, scanning the herd.
“Hai!” he said, shooing a foal away with a warm pat, pretending to be annoyed by the foal's curiosity. “Here.” He whistled to a dark honey colored horse with glowing dapples and darker legs.
“This is Ashai,” Kai said. “He is four. A nice horse.”
The young horse walked up to Jedda and sniffed him. Then he nuzzled Jedda, playfully headbutting him. “He's stunning. He is one of your herd?” Jedda asked, using the personal form of your, to ask if this was one of Kai's own horses within the herd.
Kai nodded. “Yes. But now, Ashai is for you. Yours.” He smiled shyly, as if unsure how Jedda would receive his offer.
Jedda stood there, speechless, mouth half open. He shook his head, confused, and trying to make sense of what he had just heard. “You mean for playing qwatcha? To borrow?”
“Yours. For Jedda,” Kai said.
Jedda almost said 'I don't know what to say,' but caught himself and reframed the thought. “This gift, it is beyond anything that could be imagined or worthy of.” And it was truth. A horse? His own horse? Horses were for rich, fancy people. In all his time in Tatak Rhe, he had been around rich people, and dressed in expensive clothes, but he had owned nothing of his own. He never imagined owning anything that fine, and certainly not one of the fabled Tajynal horses.
“This horse, Ashai, will live in my heart as a treasured gift and a friend. And so will Kai, for giving something of himself, treasured and cherished,” Jedda said, taking his hands and cupping them over his heart.
Kai grinned, his entire face lighting up. “Now beating others at qwatcha will be a joy! But come, horses do not drink ale, and it has been a long day that has brought great thirst.”
Jedda smiled, feeling proud to have such friends, adopted kin.
“The other horses, Jespen, and the rest-- they should really be returned to their owner, to my friend Trey,” Jedda said, watching the herd, especially little Jespen, who stood out as a solid black horse against a herd of honey-gold. He was sure Jespen liked being unique, though.
“It is wise to return the gift,” Kai said, agreeing with Jedda.
“Would it be hard to find someone to bring the horses to Tatak Rhe?”
Kai looked thoughtful for a moment. “It is possible, the Beddo travel back and forth, and it could be arranged..?”
“Can they be trusted?” Jedda asked, ingrained distrust of the travelers surfacing.
“The Beddo would not break an agreement,” was all Kai said on that.
Jedda nodded, understanding. He didn't know the Beddo very well. But Cham trusted them implicitly, and he remembered Cham having said something about Beddo honor when they had camped with them on their way out of Tatak Rhe.
“This can be arranged, if it is decided,” Kai said. "And soon the town will be full of Beddo, for the festival. Finding someone going to Tatak Rhe should be easy. We can arrange it for you.”
“But then Kirrin and Cham would not have a horse. It would not be good to make that decision that affects them,” he said. Tattia's horse was her own, bought from the Beddo.
“There are horses here, in abundance,” Kai said, “for use as they want or need.”
Jedda considered that. “This should be discussed with the others, but it would be good if they agreed upon this.” Jedda knew it would be a formality, and that Cham and Kirrin would understand and agree it was time to return Trey's horses back to him. It was an easier decision to make, knowing they had leave to access a horse as needed from the herds.
Kai nodded, satisfied. “The water flows in the creek, and there is the stench of too much sweat on two of us.”
“Learning magic is making progress?” Cham asked as he and Jedda lazed in the afternoon sun.
“A break was needed.”
Cham nodded.
A group of kids was playing a game of some sort nearby, but it was mostly peaceful. Jedda was content to watch the shifting shapes in the clouds. He drew out his knife and began carving. He liked the feel of the knife in his hands. It had been a while since he carved anything. Making arrows was just not the same.
Cham took out his lap harp and began strumming and plucking, playing a piece he had heard at someone's music-jamboree and was fiddling around with the melody.
“Yes, there is progress with the magic. Better control now. Understanding begins slowly, mastery follows far behind,” Jedda said, quoting Hroa.
Cham laughed. “Yes. That is so. But understanding has begun. You will do well.”
Jedda picked up a change in Cham's tone. Something wistful.
He looked up from his carving to watch his friend. “What is wrong?”
Cham turned his head to look back at Jedda. “Wrong?” he asked. “Nothing is wrong. But that is not what you are as
king perhaps? Are you asking what thoughts are taking place?”
Jedda nodded. “Yes. Perhaps that is the question. Something feels different, as though you are very far away.”
It was Cham's turn to nod. “Yes. Perhaps that is so. The Lya chiqui is flowing.”
Jedda shifted in his seat, looked down at his carving and frowned to himself. He didn't fully understand the Lya chiqui, but he knew it meant change was about to happen. It was something about the flow of things, the cosmic river.
“Are you leaving?” Jedda asked, an anxious feeling welling up in his chest. It never occurred to him he might lose his friends-- that one of them might leave. He stared at Cham intently, silently begging him to say he wasn't going anywhere.
Cham gave him a curious look. “Why the sadness? You will be fine here. You are fine. You have a place here, friends, and a village that claims you as their own. You even have a very fine horse. This is where you need to be, and where you belong. At least until the river says otherwise.”
“But I thought you would stay here too,” Jedda said, trying not to sound like a child.
Cham smiled at him, putting an arm around his shoulder. “There will always be connection here,” he tapped Jedda's heart, “my brother.”
Jedda wondered what that meant, with them having been lovers, but he wasn't going to ask about it now. “Where are you going?”
“The herds are riding west, the direction of Tikka, where my family is. So the timing works well for leaving so I can celebrate with my family.”
“Tikka?”
Cham nodded. “Yes. On the Western side of the region, closer to OldFall, if you know where that is?”
Jedda nodded, remembering his maps. “Is that far from here?”
“A few days, riding direct,” Cham said, meaning without stopping or wandering as the Faenyr were prone to do.
“Will you come back here?”