by TJ Muir
Cham shrugged. “The river does not always show what is around the turns.”
Jedda nodded again, not because he understood what Cham meant about rivers and turns, but because he hurt inside and didn't want to show it. “What will you do when you get back home?”
Cham turned slightly to look at Jedda. “It would be good to continue learning more healing. It has been good to be here, with different teachers. But it is time to go back home.”
“So that is what you have been doing here,” Jedda said. “When you disappeared.”
“Not secret,” Cham said. “It never came up.”
“Does your family even know where you are?”
“Yes, my family knows. Letters have been sent regularly, from Tatak Rhe and upon arrival here.”
“Oh,” Jedda said. It hadn’t occurred to him to even ask. And now his friend was leaving. He felt like it was too soon. “Would it be okay to visit, maybe?”
Cham nodded. “Yes. That would be good. There would be welcome among my family.”
Jedda wanted to hold on to the moment. He leaned into Cham's arm and the warmth his friend provided. Cham stroked the back of Jedda's neck, much as he had the first time they were together. He didn't know if it was the memory of that night, or just the contact with Cham again after so much stress and resentment, but in the moment, Cham's hand touching him was an anchor holding his world together. He turned so he could look Cham in the eye, and, without a word, Cham flowed to his feet, holding out a hand to Jedda.
“Perhaps not quite brothers.” He smiled as he led Jedda off to find somewhere more private.
Chapter Seventeen
Four days later, the village was celebrating the Full Moons of Spring. Pockets of Beddo camps were scattered everywhere, with more springing up in the groves and outlying parks.
“They come to trade,” Kai said. “And there will be qwatcha. The Beddo play almost as well as you.” He laughed.
“When is the qwatcha?” Jedda asked.
“Whole time,” Kai said. “All days, all time. Always qwatcha. And music and dancing, and girls.” Kai grinned, slapping Jedda on the back.
Kirrin joined them, carrying a bottle of ale. “It would seem the Beddo and the Faenyr have close friendship.”
Jedda nodded, watching the brightly decorated wagons and clothing.
“Small groups are common,” Kai said. “But sometimes, larger gatherings, like this one.” Then Kai spotted Destryn, waved to his cousin, and ran off.
“What is the point of this one?” Kirrin asked.
Jedda shrugged. “Not sure. They trade goods the Faenyr prefer not to go and get themselves. So it seems the Beddo are a middleman between Faenyr and Chanem. But this looks like more than a market day. I’ve seen a lot of food, firepits for cooking, and a lot of casks being rolled about.”
“Mmm,” Kirrin agreed, nodding.
“Seen Tashan or any of that tribe around? What are they called, anyway? Clans? Tribes?"
“Not sure. They may have a word in their own dialect. But generally, I think they refer to a certain family. Like the Yandev family. And to answer your question, I haven’t seen Tashan, which doesn’t mean he isn’t here. I have seen a few wagons that look like they belong to the Yandev family. Color, style, etc.”
“Oh.” Jedda nodded. “I didn’t know there were styles and colors for each family.”
Kirrin shrugged. A cask of ale or wine went rolling by, pushed by two young Beddo around Jedda’s age. They grinned broadly as they passed by. “Come,” they called. “The firepit where the Jalonda was buried is being opened up now.”
Jedda had no idea what Jalonda was, or why it would be buried in a firepit. But the two young men looked eager. He glanced at Kirrin, who shrugged back at him.
“One way to find out,” Jedda said. “Let’s go see.”
Kirrin smiled crookedly, and the two of them followed the cask as it rolled across the eastern side of the city.
They caught up with the two men-- who introduced themselves as Pol and Finn-- and gave a hand guiding and rolling the cask. Pol and Finn chatted merrily as they walked, clearly excited for the festivities.
“Where have you been before here? Where are you coming from?” Jedda asked, curious.
“Oh, here and there,” Pol said. “Finn was down on the western coast, I just came up from White coast.”
“White coast? Did you come up the river way?”
Pol nodded. “Yes. But it was not good.” He shook his head.
“What do you mean? Was something wrong?”
“More uneasy than usual. When tension is stronger, always the Beddo that get blamed. Beddo do nothing, just travel through. But still, always Beddo fault.” Pol didn’t seem very upset by this. It seemed more like a joke to him than anything else.
“What tension is there? Where?”
“All through south,” Pol said, lazily gesturing with one hand as they walked.
“Tatak Rhe?” Jedda asked.
Pol threw his head back and laughed.
“What?” Jedda asked.
“Tatak Rhe? Always crazy bastard crazy there,” he said.
“Oh,” Jedda said, surprised there were people who did not consider the city as prime importance in the universe. “Any news or anything specific there?”
Pol's face scrunched, eyes squinting, as though he trying to remember something. “One of the canals failed. Had to use the locks to move the boats. Might just be a temporary maintenance. But we got a very good price on the grain we had.” After that, he broke into a song, and Finn joined in.
Jedda looked over at Kirrin. “What do you think is going on there?”
Kirrin shook his head. “Could be someone intentionally sabotaging them. Which, given the alternative, might not be a bad thing.”
“What do you mean by that?” Jedda asked. He couldn’t imagine how anyone could sabotage an entire canal.
“Well, this is the fourth canal to fail in the last ten years. Seven total, if you count the first canals that failed, which must have happened maybe thirty years ago,” Kirrin said, trying to remember the timing. "But it seems more of them are failing. And the problem is that the canals are run by the shells. We have no idea how to fix them.”
They arrived at the encampment and others joined in the song Finn and Pol were singing. Any questions Jedda had about Tatak Rhe and the rest of the world were quickly forgotten. Pol broke open the cask, which was filled with hard cider from the north. Jedda found a mug pushed into his hand as Finn smiled.
“Drink, drink,” he said, tipping his hand up to encourage Jedda to try the cider.
Jedda did. It was tastier, and had more bite, than any of the best ciders Trey had shared. The Beddo were just full of secrets, Jedda decided. Then Pol came back up, grabbing hold of Jedda's arm.
“Come, help open up the firepit.”
Jedda and Kirrin were whisked off toward a rising cone of smoke. Six of them started digging up the pit, putting the hot coals into a hole nearby. Before long, Jedda hit something solid and used the small flat shovel to pry it up from the coals. It smelled rich and sweet and roasted. When he had it free, he realized it was the size of a melon and heavy.
Pol cackled. “Yes! Potatoes to go with the feast.”
After that, they all began to uncover a layer of giant potatoes. There were a few children waiting nearby with platters. The potatoes had been wrapped in some kind of large, tough leaves and came out with crispy outer shells.
They kept digging until Pol called out, “There. Careful now.” Everyone except Pol and Fin stepped back as the two men extracted what looked like a giant pig. Jedda found himself staring at its face. He tried not to flinch, understanding it might be considered rude. But whatever it was, Jedda’s mouth was watering. It smelled like the best thing he could ever imagine eating.
“Come!” Finn cried, calling them all to the feast.
By the end of the evening, Jedda had tasted almost every new dish at the feast as he wander
ed from one encampment to the next. The Beddo used ingredients from all across Chanmyr, and he could appreciate the benefits of travelling all over the world the way they did.
Eventually, he found his way back towards the northwestern quarter, where he and the others spent most of their time. He wandered along the line of seated Faenyr and Beddo, looking for anything he might have overlooked. He came back to where Kirrin and Tattia sat on their pillows.
“The reasons for the Beddo open welcome are evident,” he said. “This feast would do honor to any great House in Tatak Rhe.” He picked up his cup and took a sip. “This is amazing. I’ve never had anything like it.”
“That is Daya-acha.”
Jedda sniffed his cup, sweet and spicy. “What does that mean?” He took a big sip.
“It means tree blood.”
Jedda gagged and spat out what was in his mouth, coughing.
Everyone around him laughed.
Destryn looked amused. “Tree’s blood, how say?”
“Nectar, or sap, probably,” Kirrin said, taking some.
Jedda sighed, relieved, even though everyone was still laughing at him.
Destryn came up to him, holding a small piece of flat bread and a bowl. “Here. Try this.”
Kai snickered, next to him.
Jedda eyed the bowl suspiciously, leaned toward it, sniffing. He looked back up at the conspiring pair. “What is it?”
“It’s authentic choofa, with Hatan pepper sauce.”
“Choofa,” Jedda repeated, knowing the cooking style, from the southern regions. “So it’s spicy.” He took the bowl, examining the dip. “I’ve had choofa cooking before.”
Kai shuffled his feet, shifting weight. “Well, the peppers have a bit of bite. It might be too hot for you.”
“I’ve had choofa before,” Jedda repeated, a little more firmly.
“Okay. If you’re sure.”
“We just wanted to give you the warning, that it might be a bit too hot.”
Jedda sighed and rolled his eyes. Clearly they were not used to the southern region cooking styles. Kirrin and Tattia stood nearby, watching them. Jedda glanced toward Kirrin, looking for some cue, but Kirrin half-shrugged, non-committal.
“By the Red god,” he muttered, exasperated with the lot of them. He took a piece of the flat bread and scooped up a hefty dollop of the dip, shoving it into his mouth.
Kai’s eyes went wide just as Jedda was biting down on the creamy paste.
Jedda's own eyes widened as spiced heat seeped into every crevice of his mouth. He spit, gagging and scraping at his tongue with his fingers, trying to get as much of it out as possible.
While everyone else was laughing hysterically at his predicament, Jedda looked around wildly for anything that might take away the burning in his mouth. He grabbed a mug of ale and downed it in a single gulp. It didn't help.
Tattia reached across the table and picked up a bowl of yogurt. She dipped a piece of bread into the yogurt and handed it to Jedda.
Jedda stopped, looking at her stiffly, suspecting the second round of a joke.
“It will cut the burning. Promise.”
Jedda looked over at Kirrin, who nodded. He took the bread, reluctantly, and cautiously took a bite. He sighed as the molten fire in his mouth began to subside. Tattia handed him a cloth to wipe away the sweat dripping off his forehead.
Destryn clapped him on the back and smiled. “A good joke.” He tapped his hand over his heart.
Jedda repeated the gesture. “Okay, it’s good. It was a good joke.” It felt like the kind of thing Trey would have done. He missed his friend, feeling that pang. But he also appreciated the new friends around him now.
Kai stepped away for a moment, and came back, tossing three ground pillows down. They all sat. Kai started talking about the herds, his Faenyr going faster than Jedda could follow with the excess of food and wine he had been consuming. But it was okay.
On the other side, Kirrin and Tattia were talking. It seemed they had managed to mend the rift between them. He was glad for that. The strong bond of affection they shared was evident as they talked and laughed, sharing thoughts and comments about living among the Faenyr.
Jedda got the sense Tattia was doing okay, but this wasn’t truly home for her. She didn’t speak the language and didn’t have many common interests other than herbs and healing.
“Did you know I’ve been learning qwatcha?” she asked Kirrin. “I’ve been playing with one of the other... Teams? Squads? I don’t know what the word is for the groups that play together.”
Kirrin laughed. “That’s wonderful! Just don’t let Kai and Destryn know you’ve been playing for the competition.”
“It’s a fun game, and actually uses a lot more strategy than it would seem,” she added.
Kirrin nodded. “And, once the basics are covered, language is less of an issue.”
“But even so, there are some things that never stop sounding strange.”
“I know,” Kirrin agreed. “The way they never say left or right took me a long time to get used to.”
Tattia nodded energetically. “Yes! So weird. ‘To your north, or west,’ they would cry out. It took me a while before I didn’t stop in the middle of a round, trying to figure out what they wanted me to do.”
Kirrin laughed.
A spike of jealousy hit Jedda's gut, immediately followed by a sense of guilt. He felt really small for resenting the bond Kirrin had with his mother. He watched what was going on in general, but he kept his attention on the two of them.
Kai came up, pouncing on the ground pillow as though it might move before he could sit down. His eyes were wide and bright, energetic and enthusiastic.
“Your feelings are not hard?” he asked, grinning.
“What?” Jedda shook his head as he mentally translated Kai’s near-miss. “Oh. No. Not upset. No hard feelings.”
A little girl running around nearby tripped and went sprawling onto the ground. Kirrin scooped her up before the wailing commenced. He drew her onto his lap and shushed her, soothing her distress.
Jedda glanced over to Tattia, who also seemed entranced as she watched her son.
“Do you dance?” Kai asked, shaking Jedda’s arm as he tried to get his attention. Kai could barely sit still, he was so excited.
“What?” Jedda turned his head toward Kai. “No, I’m not much of a dancer, sorry.” Besides, he didn't know any Faenyr dances anyway.
“My cousin will teach you,” Kai said.
“Your cousin?” Jedda asked, confused. “Thanks. No. I like Destryn just fine, but… no--”
Kai burst out laughing, cutting Jedda off. “Not Destryn. My cousin Trellyn. You know her, from qwatcha. Don’t you remember?”
“How many cousins do you have?” Jedda asked, wondering who this person was.
Kai laughed. “Many. Trellyn is around here somewhere. When she heard you were here, she insisted. She wants to practice her Chanem.”
Jedda glanced away, uncertain. To the other side, he heard Tattia and Kirrin using the kind of hushed raised tone people use when they're angry, but trying to keep something private. What had he missed? They seemed perfectly fine just a few moments before, better than they had been in the many months since leaving Tatak Rhe.
Tattia got up abruptly, lines of bitter anger tracing her face. “I’m done. Of all the things I have endured and forgiven this… This goes too far. I can’t believe you have not told me in the entire six years!” And with that, she stormed off.
Jedda looked at Kirrin, but Kirrin was already on his feet, heading off in a different direction.
Kai pulled on Jedda’s arm again. “Trellyn is excited to dance with you. You remember her, yes? She played qwatcha with you when you first came.”
“Huh?” Jedda said, bringing his attention back, trying to remember what Kai had been saying. He wondered if he should go after Kirrin, but decided to wait until morning. Probably best to give his friend time to cool off.
�
�She will have a story to share with her friends if you honor her by dancing,” Kai said. “Come. There is wine and mead and ale and all sorts of things to try. A pig has been roasting, and venison.”
Jedda cringed at the thought of more food, still feeling full from everything he had been eating. Faenyr feasts seemed to carry on long into the night. It reminded him of some of the parties he had gone to in Tatak Rhe, only this party was open to everyone and everyone was relaxed and informal.
A regular party, Jedda decided, from the sounds of it. And dancing… which excited him less. He almost wished for an accident that would get him out of the situation. He stopped that thought quickly, distrusting the god's sense of humor. He wasn’t sure he wanted the universe to help him into a broken leg just to get out of dancing.
It turned out to be easier than he expected. Trellyn walked him through the steps before the dance started. She explained, through Kai, that the steps mostly repeated from the basic pattern, with variations.
Jedda was fine for the first two rounds. After that, like playing qwatcha, it was never as simple as someone explained. The tempo sped up, and the lead dancer of a round would step in and create a variation, a sort of challenge. Then the others in the circle had the challenge of repeating the step. After the second round, the challenges started to repeat the step, and raise the stakes. But they all laughed, and it was in good fun. No one thought badly of him for not being able to keep up. Several of them clapped him on the shoulder, or said something he couldn’t understand but sounded like “nice try.”
After the third round, Jedda politely excused himself. He had demonstrated his willingness to join and to try, and that seemed enough for them. Trellyn flew over to a group of Faenyr like an arrow to a target, glowing with her triumph. Not so very different from the girls he had known in Tatak Rhe, he thought to himself.
Jedda looked around for something to drink. He saw Kai talking with Destryn next to a large fountain of… Wine? He walked up, curious. He found a cup nearby and put it under the spout, watching the dark liquid flow. He sniffed it. Fruity. He took a big sip and choked, spraying Kai and Destryn.
They turned and burst out laughing when they saw the wide eyed look on his face.