The Winter Boy

by Sally Wiener Grotta

  Singing helped carry the afternoon through what might have otherwise been tedious and contentious. That the songs hadn’t been part of her plan made it all the more pleasant for the Allesha. Humming as she worked was a life-long habit that had grown out of her father’s love of music and his insistence that a tune made all work go more smoothly.

  For a while, her low humming was the only sound the woman and boy shared. That, and the chopping, grunting rhythm of their butchering. One tune caught the boy’s ear as a song he remembered, so he gave voice to her humming.

  Hail fellows, game ye met,

  Take the hunt away, away.

  Eladar we chase to the mount,

  Take the hunt away.

  They weren’t the words the Allesha knew, so she hummed along, enjoying the accompaniment of his mellow baritone that went off-key only on the upstroke.

  Meadows left below the mount,

  Take the hunt away, away.

  Far above the clouds we hunt,

  Take the hunt away.

  Their cleavers thumped the song’s rhythm, shaking the sturdy table with every other beat.

  Death may come, but still we follow,

  Take the hunt away, away.

  Hunters gone, but game ye met,

  Take the hunt away.

  She stopped chopping just long enough to. “Well sung! Thank you.” Then she resumed work. “Your words are different from the ones I know. Strange how a song can travel from village to village so intact and yet so changed.”

  “What’s yours like?” he asked.

  “It’s a love song.” She remembered the first time she had heard it as a youngster, and how embarrassed she had been that her mother could say such things. “Well, maybe more a humorous seduction song.”

  “Seduction, huh?” he grinned. “How does it go?”

  As she continued cutting the carcass, she lifted her voice to the song, delighted to hear once again hints of her mother’s warm tones echoing back to her. It was a sweetness of memory that lived within her, as much a part of her as her laugh, which often sounded like her daughter Svana to her own ears.

  Jamie let me sleep by thee,

  Nay, not today, today.

  Jamie don’t say no to me,

  Nay, not today.

  Jamie see my milky breasts,

  Nay, not today, today.

  Wide my hips and silk my lips,

  Nay, not today.

  Jamie how my pearl does ache,

  Nay, not today, today.

  But your spear fails me dear.

  Nay, not today.

  The boy smirked lasciviously at his Allesha. “Don’t worry, my spear won’t ever fail you.”

  A small smile played on her mouth, but she didn’t meet his eyes. When they resumed their work, their blades no longer echoed in unison.

  “Tell me about your village,” she asked.

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “Yes, but I really do want to know about your home, so I may know you better.”

  He opened his mouth, no doubt ready with a sharp or sarcastic retort, but stopped himself, shrugged and said, “I don’t know what to tell you. It’s a village, like any other.”

  “However, our villages are like our songs… the same tune, but different words and ideas.”

  “I guess so. Until the trip here to The Valley, I knew only the villages near ours; most of them were kind of like mine. But coming here was a pretty long trek from my home — almost six weeks. On the way, I saw some strange places and people.”

  “Such as?”

  “There was a lake village, where the houses were built on really tall stilts. They said that was because of the annual floods. But when we were there, it was a long walk to the shore from the village — about ten times the distance to the old woman’s house from yours — or maybe further. Can you imagine that much rain that it could swell a lake that wide?”

  “Tell me of the people of this village.”

  “They call themselves the Fetreens, and they laugh a lot, even when there’s no joke. At least, they didn’t let me in on the joke. Maybe they were laughing at me, because all the guys were so much bigger than me, but they giggled like little kids. Undignified and silly, if you ask me, even if Pa and Ma seemed to like them. And the boy we brought with us finally smiled for the first time with the Fetreens. So I guess laughter can be good, even if it was too constant.”

  “What boy?” she asked.

  “No one knows who he is. Pa said he was found near our border, after a Mwertik raid.”

  “What was he like? Did he tell you what happened?” She modulated her voice, to maintain the same conversational tone as before. But her heart throbbed in her ears. A survivor from a Mwertik raid? She’d never heard of any person or animal left alive once they attacked. Even children and infants. That was what made the elusive Mwertik so terrifying, their single-minded destruction, as though they wanted to wipe the earth clean of anyone and anything within the Peace borders. “Did your father learn anything new about the Mwertik from him?”

  “The kid didn’t talk, not to anyone. Ma said we had to gentle him, because he was frightened beyond any fright we could ever imagine.” The boy leaned on his cleaver and stared into the distance. “He’d seen his whole village killed, and everything around him burned to cinders.” With a shiver, he resumed his butchering. “You know what I think? I think someone must’ve hid him and told him to stay quiet. That’s what probably saved his life. But that person never came back for him, and he thinks that if he makes any sound, he’ll be killed, too.”

  The Allesha paused in her work, to look at her Winter Boy. “Is he quite young?”

  “He’s little. If he were from my village, I’d guess he’d be no more than six. Compared to the Fetreens, who are large people, he looked four or five.”

  “And he didn’t talk at all?”

  “Didn’t make any sounds, except in his sleep, when he whimpered and moaned. Made it tough for me to sleep, I can tell you. But Ma insisted he stay close to me, which irked me. He never even looked at me, not directly, not when I looked at him.”

  The boy laid his clever on the table and turned toward Tayar. “Then one night, when he woke me up with his nightmare crying, like he always did, I reached out to turn him. Sometimes, pushing him into another position would stop his moans. Well, it wasn’t really a push. All he had to do was feel my touch, and he’d flinch away. But this time, instead, he grabbed my hand with both of his tiny fists and curled his body around it. I don’t know why, but that felt… oh, I don’t know. You see, he was still asleep, so it was something that he did from deep inside, where the real boy was hiding from everything that he’d seen. He reached for me, needed me. That felt good.”

  ‘To win the trust of one so terrorized, that’s quite an accomplishment.”

  “I don’t know. Guess so. Anyway, after that night, I didn’t really mind him staying close. I liked making him feel safe. I just wish he would’ve said even one word to me. He was like a trapped animal that didn’t know the cage was open. But when the Fetreens laughed, he sometimes smiled, not with his lips, but in his eyes. It was a good place to leave him, if we had to leave him anywhere.”

  The Allesha heard the wistful loneliness in the boy’s tone. “If you want, you’ll probably see him again.”

  “Yeah. I’d like that. I’d like to walk into the Fetreen village and see the children playing and laughing and him with them, jabbering and making all kinds of noise.” With a sigh, he picked up his cleaver and hacked at the eladar’s hip joint.

  The Allesha latched onto the glimmer of hope her First Boy’s story offered. Perhaps the surviving child might yet tell them of the Mwertik. Would the Alleshi and Allemen finally uncover who the Mwertik were, where their home base was, perhaps even why they were so hell-bent on destroying everything associated with the Peace?

  Turning her mind to the task at hand, she said, “So, you have seen how different things can be away from home.
Maybe you now understand why I asked you to tell me of your village.”

  “Guess so, but it’s really ordinary. No houses on stilts or anything.”

  “To you, it may be ordinary because you’ve known it all your life. To me, it may be exotic.”

  “Where do you come from?” he asked.

  “My people are the Attani, from the Great Plains, where some ranches stretch as far as the eye can see, and the outer village homes belong to large farms that surround the entire community.”

  “Hey, I’ve heard stories about your people.”

  His fawn was much smaller than her doe, which meant he was finished sooner. He could have offered to help her, but apparently didn’t think of it. Of course, she could have asked for his help, if she had wanted to use the moment for a lesson. Instead, she suggested he prepare the pheasants for storage. They continued to talk as they worked.

  “Please tell me about your village,” she asked once more. “If I visited, what would be the first thing I’d notice?”

  “Well, I guess it’d be the trees. Our Storyteller says that when Arof, the first headman, led his people to the forest, they cleared a wide section right in the middle of the woods. I mean, they just chopped everything down, leveled it to the ground, as though the trees didn’t matter.”

  “So, your ancestors didn’t come from woodspeople, originally.”

  “No, that’s why they didn’t know any better.”

  The boy didn’t see the small smirk that played across the Allesha’s lips.

  “Arof — that’s my pa’s direct ancestor — he and his people cleared the land and built their houses of the wood, at first. But bit by bit, all the walls were replaced by stone, as our people learned the truth about the forest, that it’s alive. Yeah, I know; they weren’t dumb. They knew the trees were alive, but they didn’t really know about the forest, not at first. When they did, they finally understood they mustn’t pull out or chop down any new tree.”

  “Do you mean that any tree that begins is allowed to grow wherever it might take root?” she asked.

  “If it’s outside. You can’t have a tree growing in your kitchen or pushing through the stone hearth, can you? So homes don’t have trees inside, but our spirit house does. It was built around a tree. The Storyteller says that it was the only tree that wasn’t cut down by Arof and his people. Not that they didn’t raise their axes to it, but no man could finish his swing. Something inside them or inside the tree stopped them. Some say that was the beginning of our belief in wood sprites.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know. You should see that tree. I mean, I know the woods and still that one tree always catches my eye and pulls at my stomach whenever I look at it. Its branches spread out over all the old homes, and six tall men with their arms stretched could barely encircle the trunk. But it’s more than just size. There’s something about how old it must be, all that it’s seen of man and nature. To bring it down would be sacrilege. Does that mean wood sprites live in it? I don’t know. But if I were a wood sprite, I could think of no better place for my home.”

  “Your spirit house must be large indeed to hold such a tree. Please tell me more about it. What are the meetings like?”

  “Well, I don’t know if that would be right. Women aren’t allowed in there, and we’re not supposed to speak to women about the matters of men.”

  “Indeed? Then I would find your village exotic in more than one way. I’ve never seen a tree growing in the middle of a building. Certainly not one such as you describe. But even more unusual is that women should be excluded from the business and the spirit of the village.”

  “Yeah.” His voice was tinged with a touch of sarcasm that she chose to ignore. “You Alleshi seem to think that women are equal to men in every way.”

  “You don’t?”

  “In a valley of women, it’s only natural that women should be in charge. You don’t have men to take care of things. But women and men were made for different purposes. That’s why we’re shaped different. Hell, I can’t bear children or feed them from my body. Women can’t carry the heavy loads I can.”

  “Those are physical differences. What does that have to do with leading a village or caring for its spiritual well-being?” she asked.

  “We’re the stronger sex, so we should be in charge.”

  “So, you feel that muscular strength, rather than intelligence, experience and nurturance, is the measure of a good leader.”

  “Look, I don’t want to argue with you. You’ll just get angry at me again.”

  “I’m not angry,” Tayar retorted. “But I am indeed curious about how you think.” With a wider than necessary swing of her blade, she broke the last joint. “Finished! Let’s get this meat into the coldhouse. But first, pick a piece to give to our mentor as a gift.”

  She was pleased to see that he chose the best cut of his young, tender eladar. This boy has his faults, but he is generous, she thought. We’ll be able to use that instinct to his advantage.

  Chapter 17

  After hanging the butchered game in the coldhouse, Tayar and her Winter Boy checked the eladar skins in their wooden frames, to be sure the stretches were even and secure. Then they returned to the house. The sun had set long before.

  The Allesha kicked her bloodied boots off in the mudroom behind the kitchen. “I’m filthy. I must take a bath before we prepare dinner.”

  “May I join you?”

  “In my bath?”

  He nodded, his face beaming with hope.

  She touched his face, letting her hand linger gently on his cheek. “Not tonight, but in time. I promise.”

  He put his hand where hers had been. Somehow, the skin that had felt hers, however briefly, was more alive, and that feeling remained with him through his bath. But when she greeted him in the kitchen with a light kiss, he realized that the tingle had faded on his cheek, only to be rekindled on his lips. Was this the magic of the Alleshi, to have lightning in their touch? Great Mother, let us reach that inner room tonight!

  The boy was so absorbed with such thoughts he didn’t notice how involved he became in preparing their meal. Responding to his Allesha’s requests, his hands chopped vegetables, his legs carried him to the icebox and pantry for sausage, bread and butter, and his mouth tasted the offered spoonful of sauce without being able to judge the seasoning. His body obeyed, cut off from his mind and any objections he might vent about doing women’s work.

  He was acutely aware of his Allesha’s every movement. She was clothed in a strange one-piece garment that wrapped about her body in flowing drapes. When he brushed against her in a manner that he hoped was nonchalant and seemingly accidental, he could feel the warmth of her skin as though no cloth separated them. If he looked closely, he could swear he saw the hint of her dark nipples sliding under the cloth as she moved. How he ached to absorb the whole length of her against his body. But just as he decided to act, she turned to look directly at him.

  “Done!” she said. “Let’s eat.”

  Uncertain what to do or say next, he followed her lead again, obediently sitting across from her at the table.

  “It was a good day’s work,” she commented.

  He nodded and ate, watching her as she spoke.

  “The winter snow is expected early this year; we have much to do to ready this place for it.”

  He wasn’t prepared to speak, focused as he was on other things.

  “Tomorrow, after our morning chores, you’ll take that cut of eladar to our mentor. Remember, you must name her soon.”

  That caught his attention. “Fine. Another name.” His voice hid none of his anger for a beautiful spell broken. But he looked into her face and found himself unable to hold onto his frustration. Damn, she actually shines. How come I didn’t see that before? And I was wrong; she isn’t that old at all. Could be Lilla’s elder sister.

  Again, he heard little of what she said, lost as he was in the fantasy of possessing this incredible w
oman. He was unconscious of chewing or swallowing, and heard her words only as background music as pleasant as birdsong. Suddenly, all was silent, and he realized that she had just asked him a question. “Huh?”

  “That’s okay. We’ll go over that later.”

  They both realized that he hadn’t heard a word she had said. While he was worried that he had botched it again, she accepted the situation as part of the Fascination Stage in their relationship. He’s obsessed with my body right now, she mused. No, that’s not quite correct. The obsession is with his own body and its needs. When he connects my mind to my body, he’ll begin to be more concerned with my needs than his own.

  Savah had defined and described the stages of an Alleshine relationship early in Rishana’s training. At the time, Rishana had thought the discussion too cold and precise, and had been uncomfortable with the idea that the human soul could be so thoroughly mapped, so completely predictable. But here before her was the Fascination Stage, clearly and classically embodied in her Winter Boy. A chill shot up her spine, though the kitchen was warm. She decided to visit Savah tomorrow while the boy was with Dara.

  They washed the dishes together, although each was lost in thought. When everything was put away, they went into the greeting room. She turned to the boy and said, “I usually like to read in the evening, but I’d rather spend the time with you tonight. Would you be willing to read to me or tell me a story?”

  “I’m no Storyteller,” he said dismissively.

  “Oh, I disagree. You’ve told me some wonderful stories.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. But I don’t feel right just launching into a story on the say so.”

  “Would you feel more comfortable reading to me?”