The Winter Boy

by Sally Wiener Grotta

  She floated within that warm aura. But soon the Allesha awakened once more, with the full understanding of why it was important that this be the last time — before another kind of love could take root, one which would do more harm than good.

  They bathed each other tenderly, then walked hand in hand to a high platform, leaving the oil lamp beside the pool. With no other light, she felt as though they were entering a cave, dark, safe and separate.

  This time, their lovemaking was slower, less insistent, more thoughtful, but she would not allow herself to become lost in it. The closing had to begin now, before it was too late.

  Eventually, they had exhausted each other. Dov pulled her to him, her head on his chest, and soon his breathing slowed to the rhythms of a deep sleep. Slipping out from under his draped arm, Tayar left her inner room and her Winter Boy, looking back at him only once. He had rolled onto his side, as though he were reaching for her in his sleep, but something about the angle of his body and the sound of his breaths made her wonder if he weren’t looking right at her, in his own quiet farewell.

  Chapter 82

  Wave after wave of body warmth, unfamiliar smells and strange voices pummeled Dov/Ryl as he followed Tayar into the Communal Hall. Over the winter months, his world had become so small, revolving around only Tayar and Le’a. To now have more than one hundred Winter Boys and their Alleshi so close was a sudden, shocking reminder of how removed he had been from everything that defined his life. With a jolt, he realized that, for the time he had spent in The Valley, not even his name had been real.

  Tayar was only a breath away; he could have held her hand as they moved through the crowd. But they, like the other Blessed Boys and Alleshi, barely looked at each other as they walked side by side, muscles rigid to remind them that what had been a natural part of their everyday was now and forever taboo. When they entered the Alleshine Assembly Room, Tayar separated from him to sit with other Alleshi in the back, where the tiered floor gave them an elevated view. The boys were instructed to sit toward the front.

  Ryl observed everything with a clear, focused mind. But a part of him felt like a gawking child. Here he was in The Alleshine Assembly Room — the center and the source of their Peace — where Alleshi and Allemen made decisions that affected everyone within the Peace borders, and beyond. And it wasn’t a mistake; he belonged here, with this company.

  Half again as many Alleshi as boys poured into the enormous room, which could have held four, maybe even five times as many people — all the Birani, plus the neighboring Beirjoun — without being crowded. With great formality and uncertainty, the boys greeted one another, some with no more than a nod, others in short, polite salutations.

  Ryl acknowledged those he recognized from the Battai’s Petitioners dormitory, but with little more than a glance. Even when he saw Sim, whose company he had enjoyed before his Season began, Ryl didn’t know what to say or how to behave. So much had changed over the winter.

  Ryl sat in a comfortably cushioned armchair about three rows from the front, where twenty empty seats faced the company. Once the boys and Alleshi had settled, a group of men and women came in through another, smaller door and took those facing chairs. Mistral was among them.

  Mistral scanned the room, and when his eyes fell on Ryl, his face brightened. What surprised Ryl was that he was happy to see his pa. Not that Ryl wasn’t still confused, even angry, but those emotions felt more like an echo of the past, vague rather than visceral.

  A tall, wizened old woman stood and leaned on a high reader’s table. Tayar had pointed this Allesha out as an important leader among the handful who knew the truth about him. Did that mean she could be trusted?

  “Watch her carefully,” Tayar had said. “She has skills and secrets you’ll want to learn.”

  Under the old Allesha’s commanding look, the shuffling of chairs and murmured conversations quieted. “Welcome and good morning,” she said. “This is the day you’ve been striving toward for months, when you become members of our community, not through ritual or awards, but through hard work and service.”

  “During these Service Days,” she continued, “you will spend your mornings here in our Assembly Room, learning and planning. Lunch will usually be across the hall.” She gestured toward the other side of the building. “In the afternoons, you will be assigned various duties around The Valley, under the guidance of Allemen and Alleshi, though not your own Allesha. In the evenings, after you dine privately with your Allesha, you will return to the Communal Hall for informal discussions and to prepare for the next day.”

  The old woman’s eyes glided over the gathering of Winter Boys. “Look around you at the other Blessed Boys assembled here. You may think you know some of them. You don’t. No more than they can know you, not after all you have learned. Today is a new start for you. So please take a moment and introduce yourself to everyone within reach.” The Allesha sat down.

  At first, no one moved or spoke. Ryl glanced around him. When the boy to his right returned his gaze and nodded, Ryl put out his hand and said, “Hello, I’m Ryl.”

  A head taller than Ryl, he had a ruddy complexion, small grey eyes, sandy hair and a firm handshake. “Garin of the Mukane. What’s your village?”

  “Sorry, right, I’m Ryl of the Birani. But, hey, Mukane? Like in the Traveler’s story The Northern Border?”

  “Yes.” Garin grinned.

  “Glad to meet you, Garin.”

  “Me, too.”

  Ryl turned to the boy directly behind him, but he was already engaged in conversation. One seat over from him, Ryl recognized the slim boy he had seen crying at the Battai’s. A fresh start. Did that mean also forgetting that the reason Ryl had called him a wimp was out of fear and arrogance? Ryl extended his hand, stretching to reach him. “Hello, I’m Ryl of the Birani.”

  The boy shook Ryl’s hand vigorously. “Hi, Ryl. It’s great to see you. You kept your name, too? Oh, sorry, I guess we’re supposed to do this according to form. I’m Aidan of the Nigan.”

  “It’s good to see you, too, Aidan.” Ryl could hear the deep sincerity in his own voice, but felt he wanted to say something else to Aidan, that he owed him some acknowledgment or apology or something.

  Aidan leaned over to clap him on his shoulder before turning to greet another boy.

  Ryl met five of those surrounding him, amidst a growing hubbub of goodwill. Back at the Battai’s, when he was certain no Allesha could ever Bless him, he had dismissed the other Petitioners. How different it was now. He was surrounded by more than one hundred Winter Boys from so many villages that their colors, sizes, shapes and features were almost as diverse as the Peace itself. But each had more in common with Ryl than anyone back home, because they’d all gone through a Season with an Allesha, and were about to become Allemen. He wasn’t accustomed to feeling part of something so large, and he welcomed the sense of belonging it gave him. Still, none of them knew what he knew, or carried a similar burden.

  The same old Allesha stood once more, and the company quickly quieted, giving her their full attention. “Today, at lunch, you’ll sit with at least two of the boys you just met. Until you are told otherwise, we will expect you to sit with new people every day. That way, you’ll get to know as many of your fellows as possible. Now I will turn the podium over to one of our Allemen, Mistral of the Birani.”

  Wyrin, the boy seated in front of Ryl, turned around and mouthed the one word, “Birani?”

  Ryl whispered, “My pa,” and felt a sense of pride as he said it.

  Mistral strode forward, instead of standing behind the tall reader’s table. “Well, fellas, you’ve done it. You’ve had a Blessed Season and are about to become Allemen.” He moved around as he spoke, cutting through the room’s formality and turning the moment into something shared among equals and friends. “Today, you feel like you’ve just awakened from a dream. I know. I’ve been there… in that chair, to be precise.” He pointed at a seat in the fourth row. “I remember how dazed I fel
t, thrust among so many people, where the rules seemed suddenly skewed. Believe me, that feeling will pass. Until then, your training will carry you through. It’s that training we’ll now begin to hone, while you spend the rest of your Season helping to open The Valley and prepare it for spring.

  “You’ve already been told what you can expect during your Service Days. Lots of work, camaraderie and discussions. But that’s only the framework. What will be important are the undercurrents and relationships that develop during these days. From these we…” Mistral gestured to the men and women sitting behind him, “will gauge how best to form your Triads and assignments.”

  Mistral strode back to stand behind the reader’s table. “You’ll be interacting not only with Allemen, Alleshi and other Blessed Boys, but also springtime Petitioners, villagers with their tributes, maybe even representatives from beyond our borders. Watch everyone and everything closely. Use this opportunity to learn and discern.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the small high table.

  “Yes, learn and discern. That’s what you’ve been trained to do. Even among strangers, the smallest gesture can reveal what they wouldn’t have you know. How much truer that is with your Allesha, especially now, when the two of you are so sensitized to each other.” Mistral didn’t exactly frown, but the lines around his mouth and on his brow became more pronounced. “Depending on your Allesha’s style, you may already know what has transpired recently. Even if you haven’t been told the details, you couldn’t have failed to sense that something is very wrong. We don’t want you to have to depend on rumors and hearsay to uncover the truth. So we are altering the normal course of your Service Days to share with you what we know. I wish we didn’t need to do this. Not on your first day, when you’re so raw and open. But it can’t be helped.”

  No one moved or talked. The room was still.

  Mistral poured a glass of water and took a sip before proceeding. “We don’t have all the facts at present. What we do know is that three disturbing events have occurred in recent days, and they appear to be related. First, a beloved Allesha, the caretaker of The Valley’s storehouse, is dead. Second, two hundred of our most advanced guns have been stolen from the storehouse. Third, several Alleshi and an unknown number of Allemen were apparently involved in the theft and have disappeared.”

  Mistral’s stark delivery of the facts put the past week into fine focus for Ryl. Judging by the postures and faces around him, he realized that none of the other boys had known the full story until now. All eyes were fixed on Mistral in varying expressions of shock, disbelief and confusion. All, that is, except Aidan’s. In the growing susurrus of nervous fidgeting, coughs and muttered asides, Ryl confronted Aidan in a forced whisper. “Why are you staring at me?”

  “Because you’re not staring at him,” Aidan answered, pointing to Mistral.

  Ryl studied Aidan for signs of threat or hints that perhaps he knew more than he should. But all Ryl could see in the slight boy’s manner was a friendly curiosity and a sharply aware intelligence. Or had Aidan become more skilled at dissembling than Ryl credited him? Ryl quickly turned away, fearful that Aidan might be better at reading faces than Ryl was at hiding his thoughts.

  Mistral stood silently watching the company, giving the boys time to absorb and consider the facts and their implications.

  Finally, one boy spoke loudly enough to be heard by everyone. “Was she murdered?”

  “The caretaker?” Mistral asked, but didn’t wait for a reply. “Possibly, but she was very old. She could have just as easily fallen from the great height of the storehouse shelves.”

  “What do they plan to do with the guns?” another boy called out.

  “I’ve told you what we know. Everything else is only guesswork,” Mistral responded.

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” a redhead in the second row said. “They want to defend the Peace. Kill Mwertik. Right?”

  “That’s one likely scenario,” Mistral acknowledged.

  “So, what’s so bad about that?” the redhead asked. “The Mwertik are killing us.”

  Ryl heard Aidan’s whisper behind him, “We’d become nothing more than murdering raiders ourselves.”

  Ryl looked over his shoulder at Aidan. “It would be a massacre,” Aidan said almost under his breath, his voice a suppressed sob. Then why didn’t he speak out?

  “It would be a massacre,” Ryl said aloud to the company. “That’s what’s wrong. We’d become just like them, the Mwertik. And that would be their victory over us.” He turned in his seat so everyone could hear him clearly. When he faced front again, he saw Mistral nodding approval.

  “He’s right. I’m sorry I don’t know your name,” said a dark fellow to the far left.

  “Ryl, what’s yours?”

  “Rominic of the Verrakeem,” he replied, then continued, “Ryl’s right. We’re Allemen. At least we’re going to be Allemen in a few weeks. That has to mean something. If we act like Mwertik, what makes us better than them? What Peace would there be left to protect?”

  “But it’s Allemen who did this. Allemen and Alleshi,” someone protested. Ryl couldn’t see who it was.

  “That doesn’t make them any less wrong,” Rominic countered.

  “Allemen can make mistakes,” came from the other side of the room. “And this one is a monster of a mistake.”

  “And the Alleshi?” asked the redhead.

  “They keep telling us they have no magic,” Sim said. “That it’s just observation, skill and knowledge. They’re human, and the Alleshi involved are wrong.”

  “If it’s Allemen and Alleshi who did this, who can we trust?” All Ryl could see of the boy who had spoken was the back of his head, but it was bowed and shaking in disbelief.

  “Only ourselves,” Aidan was so thin and small, but there was an incisive edge to his quiet, spare words.

  Ryl looked over his shoulder at Aidan. Neither of them moved for several breaths while they stared at each other. With a slight movement of his head toward Mistral, Aidan broke the spell.

  Ryl stood to speak to the company. “We can trust only those whom we know to be trustworthy. When we aren’t sure, we’ll have to trust our training and instincts to guide us. But we can be certain of our Triads, when they’re formed. Our own Alleshi. Ourselves.”

  “So the old ways are gone?” the redhead asked.

  “Which old ways?” Ryl responded.

  “When we could believe in any Alleman or Allesha.”

  “Blindly, you mean? Without question? Like Sim said, they have no magic.” Ryl suddenly felt uncomfortable being at the center of the discussion. With a glance toward Aidan, Ryl sat, wondering why he had stood at all.

  “But it was the foundation of our Peace,” Garin said.

  “You know better than that,” another boy responded from his chair. “The foundation is much more complex. It’s trade and communications and our hope for the future.”

  “And the Allemen and Alleshi,” Garin insisted. “Without them there is no Peace, no Alliance.”

  “Yes, Allemen and Alleshi,” Sim said. “But it’s the people who have earned those titles. Not the titles themselves.”

  The redhead turned in his seat to confront Sim. “You’re wrong when you try to make it sound so ordinary. Everything’s changed. An Allesha has been killed. Guns were stolen. Allemen and Alleshi have turned renegade.”

  Mistral held his open hands chest high, calling the assembly to attention. “Now you understand why we had to tell you about it today, before we start your Service Days,” Mistral said. “These events will complicate our lives for a long time to come. But it’s important that you don’t allow rumors or conjecture to foment reactive behavior. Deal with the facts, posit scenarios to examine implications and potential solutions as you have been trained, but don’t confuse the one with the other. We know three facts at present. That’s all.” Mistral paused. Then, in a less somber voice, he said, “Now, Konar of the Hauks will speak with you about mediating di
sputes, something that every Alleman must do, some more often than others. It’s Konar’s specialty to which he has devoted his life, quite successfully.” Mistral sat down and, with a deep sigh, released himself to the comfortable chair.

  Tall and sinewy, Konar approached the reader’s table with an almost feline gait. He was smooth-voiced, but power emanated from him. So much power that he didn’t need to express or show it.

  Ryl paid close attention to what Konar said, partly because he knew he needed the skills Konar could impart, but also because the Alleman’s voice and words were so compelling. At the same time, Ryl considered what had just transpired — the patterns that were unfolding in this room, and the personalities that had been revealed. Among these boys were two he would learn to depend on more than anyone else: his future Triats. Who would they be? And which of the others would he be able to fully trust? A year from now, how many of them would know what he was? Would any of them respond to the news in a way that could prove dangerous?

  Yes, he would need Konar’s skills for diplomacy. But Ryl also recognized that he’d have to learn the old wizened Allesha’s ability to keep secrets so close that no one could know that anything was hidden.

  After Konar finished his tale of how he had solved a dispute between neighboring villages in which both claimed a fertile valley, he answered questions. The discussion was subdued. Everyone was still in shock from Mistral’s revelations. Soon they were dismissed for lunch.

  While everyone piled out of their seats and headed for the large doors through which they had originally entered, Mistral gestured to Ryl to follow him through a smaller door on the other side of the room.