by Nōnen Títi
Aryan had not known the kabin had come back. That was why Maike had taken Leyon along, of course.
“Why wasn’t I informed about that?” Kalgar asked.
“How can somebody just fall overboard?” Laytji wanted to know.
“He jumped.”
Maike, from her sitting position, kicked at Leyon and then stood up. With a little satisfaction Aryan decided that, had her eyes been daggers, Leyon would have not survived.
“How do you know that?” Kalgar asked the boy.
“Somebody told… sorry, I…” Leyon stuttered and glanced at Maike.
The long strands of her hair, still loose from the scuffle, covered part of her face, but from her posture Aryan could tell it was true, and he knew who it was.
“He was seasick most of the time.”
“Shut up, Leyon.”
“Yes, listen to you mother; she’s all knowing,” Aryan agreed. Maike knew more than she was telling; another secret she’d shared with Leyon.
“We don’t know the details, so we won’t discuss it,” Kalgar said.
Aryan ignored that order. “Some of us seem to know the details. Saves you talking it out, doesn’t it? Thalo hated the sea; that was common knowledge.”
“I couldn’t help that,” Leyon replied, in spite of Maike’s warning.
“It was nobody’s fault. We will not discuss Thalo tonight,” Kalgar repeated.
A bit light-headed from the sugar, Aryan stood up. “He was made the laughingstock of the whole town. He had no choice,” he told Kalgar.
“He brought that on himself.”
“Did he? Or was he provoked?” Not that Aryan cared so much about Thalo; he just cared about this kid being in everybody’s way.
Leyon also got to his feet, which caused Kalgar, intent on putting a stop to this, to step between them. “Cut it out. Sit down, both of you.”
Another order. It wasn’t so much Leyon who Aryan wanted to reach, but he talked to the boy. “You’ve done it without ending up in prison yourself. How smart!”
“Leyon had nothing to do with it. He jumped. Nobody saw him. He left a note,” Maike finally admitted.
“Maybe he was too scared to come back,” Leyon said.
“Maybe he was looking forward to it.”
Maike pushed past Kalgar. Aryan could feel her breath in his face. “Why don’t you just say it? You want me to? Yes, it was my fault. Does that make you happy?”
“Anything to win a challenge, right, Maike? Did you get a kick out of it or was Thalo too old for you?”
“Why? Are you sorry it wasn’t you?”
He lashed out before thinking. He saw her fall, saw the others around them jump up, Leyon right in front of him, fists ready. “You asked for it!” he shouted.
The darkness came out of nowhere. The boy was too small to protect the woman behind him. The eyes of the tall man flashed with the pleasure of his intent. The smell of salt made Aryan nauseous. He turned to get away, stumbled through the grasses, ran until he could no longer hear them, and threw up behind a large rock. It tasted of sweet and sour blood. Then he let himself slide down onto the cold ground, aware of the things creeping and crawling around him, but unable to fight them off.
Aryan arrived in town before Kun was up. The others were somewhere behind him. He’d not waited; no need for a welcoming committee.
The first night after the fight he remembered little of. He’d been startled by Kalgar and accepted the hot drink to get his body moving. He had started off on his own, which had been fine in the daytime; as long as he walked he could keep his senses busy, but by moonset he’d been without containers for water, without light, and without fire. He had held out as long as he could, unable to sleep, aware that at any moment the blob-like critters could walk onto his mat, but had refused to give in. Like an idiot he’d trotted along at a distance, sitting away from them, but within visible range, accepting the ‘prut’ – the thick liquid brewed from the tubers mixed with honey – that Kalgar brought him, disgusted by his own existence.
Last night he’d known he’d reach town if he kept going. He’d gone straight home to sleep; a real sleep. When he woke up it was dark again. The others would be back. Nobody had come to see if he’d arrived. What did they care, anyway?
Aryan made up his mind not to let the events ruin this chance for some excitement and went out the next morning to have a look at the trefin. The orange of the environment was a welcome relief from the cold colours of the hills. There was a change in the air, like that which a special day on DJar would have caused; a change in the way people walked and talked, a change from their daily work. Yet work they did: Chests and mats were carried to the field behind the social building, and all those who had something to share put it out on display – farmers, fishermen, the food distribution people, and some individuals who had gone against the rules and tried foods they had found themselves. Remag was there with the honeycomb; he nodded when he saw Aryan. Others had clothing made from old fabric or from zibot hides, and toys, either no longer suitable for their children, or made from mud or prefab material. It was a market for exchanging goods or just for sharing.
“Try the food of the future?” a woman asked Aryan and handed him a lump of dried bati milk. “Old Veleder recipe.”
His palate celebrated the richness, for this, too, was DJar food; food from the land. It was many years since he’d used that phrase to convince the farmers to join the colony, a very long time since that challenge.
Though he wasn’t hungry, Aryan focused on trying the foods and ignored the looks from those who’d been on the expedition. He saw neither Maike nor Leyon. The same dune wine the kabin builders had first used to barter with was available for free; it helped clear his mind and forget the past moon. It even made him cheerful.
“Aryan?” It was Daili who stopped next to him. Stocky and strong, she had changed little since SJilai. “Laytji tells me the expedition found good land for the farmers.”
“Yeah, I reckon Kalgar will hold a speech.”
“Did you have a good time?” she asked.
“It was okay, Daili. You know how it goes.” He could find very little he wanted to talk about, but she was the only one to speak to him at all.
“I know Kalgar. I guess he took charge of your expedition the moment you left town.”
Her smiling eyes didn’t give away if she was, indeed, just guessing, or if Laytji had told her that they’d quarrelled. If she had, what else had she told her mother?
“I don’t really care, Daili. We found what we were looking for. Now all we need to do is move the farmers over there.”
He walked alongside her. A man was playing a hand-made flute which squirmed when he went out of tune, but neither the player nor the people attracted by it seemed to mind, as if their appreciation of quality was changing. “It’s like with the food. We’ve had to go without for so long that now anything is good enough,” he said.
“But some things never change. I can see that power struggle between Roilan and Frimon escalating today,” she answered, indicating the opposing political gatherings on either side of the field. “It wasn’t Maike’s fault, you know,” she added.
Aryan frowned, irritated with the change of topic and the notion that his private life was public knowledge. He had no answer for her. Where did people get the right to concern themselves with other people’s lives? Not just gossip, like on DJar, but the assumption that it was their business to give advice, just like they’d assumed he was better off not knowing the truth about Thalo.
“What happened?” Daili asked.
“Nothing. Just an argument.” But it was too late to fight it now. “I don’t know what happened, Daili. We used to be able to solve problems. Kun DJar is what happened. Habitat Three. I don’t know. I said the wrong things about Thalo, about Maike. I lost it.”
She smiled as only Daili could, as if forgiving a naughty child. “It shocked me too, that trial, but Maike needs you. Go talk to her.”
> Why was everybody so concerned with what went on between him and Maike? “I’m no good at talking.”
“You don’t have to be good at it. She knows you. She won’t expect a speech.”
He shook his head. It wouldn’t work.
They rounded the nearby clinic. “I was told that Thalo wasn’t a bad person on DJar. All he did was give the inspectors a mouthful. How does a person like that end up raping a girl?” Daili asked.
“It so happens that people get obsessed with what they can’t have, Daili. I can’t blame him.”
She frowned.
“About the inspectors, I mean. I remember the days when those self-righteous pricks used to visit my parents,” he clarified.
“Oh no!” Daili replied, but she was looking at a scene at the side of the social building, where a whole group of kids were in a fight. Or rather, a whole group of them were cheering on, while a few were beating up the boy on the ground.
“Why do people do that?” Daili exclaimed, starting to run.
Aryan recognized Leyon among the onlookers, being just a little taller than the other kids. Of course! Where was Maike’s control over him now? Within a few steps he reached the crowd, took a firm hold of Leyon’s yellow hair and shirt before lifting him off the ground and throwing him to the side.
“Hey, he didn’t do anything!” Laytji shouted.
The kids who had done the beating made space for Daili as she knelt by the dark-haired boy on the floor.
“What happened?” Kolyag asked from behind Aryan.
“I’m not sure about the details,” Aryan answered, but Kolyag was looking at Wilam, who stood to the side with his comate and son.
“I don’t know exactly,” Wilam answered. “We saw them argue and before I knew it the kids had run ahead and ended up in a fight.”
Daili helped the boy to his feet and turned to Wilam. “That wasn’t a fight: That was slaughter. How could you just stand by and let your kids beat him like that?” She was so upset, she was almost shouting.
“They were not my kids,” Wilam protested.
“No, they were mine, but they were out with you,” Kolyag answered him, no less angry than Daili. He demanded Doret tell him who exactly had done the fighting, and Doret reluctantly pointed to the guilty kids. The next beating was handed out by Kolyag to his daughter, who’d been in the middle of it.
Daili’s boy looked as tattered as the victim did, but not the least bit sorry. He informed them that his sister and Leyon had argued with Rorag first, but only when there was a large group had the fighting started.
Daili took the beat-up kid away, while Leyon was slowly getting to his feet in front of Aryan. “Get out of here, all of you,” Aryan told the bystanders. Most did, but Kolyag and Pina were shouting at each other and didn’t hear him. Wilam stood by and did nothing.
“I only said that the kid was born in the wrong nest. I didn’t touch him,” Leyon defended himself, though Aryan had not asked, nor intended to.
Leyon wasn’t harmed, so Aryan went home. He had enough of speeches and confrontations of any kind.
A Bit of Normality
Standing on a makeshift platform, Daili finished her speech: “Wolt once compared our journey on SJilai to a treyak, the challenge of the legendary heroes. I would like to extend that idea to our lives here. The real challenge we have to face is survival: We need to listen to this planet, who, after all, is Kelot, Kun’s wife, the mother of his children. Our treyak will be to survive a whole year, a Kun DJar year, on her land. Only then should we be allowed to call ourselves Kunjari people. Only if we stop arguing over the details should we consider ourselves civilized and at peace with the land. Legendary heroes overcame hardship; they didn’t fight each other. It won’t be easy, but nobody promised us that it would be. The challenge is ours. For the sake of our future, let’s master it.”
Around Jema the audience started clapping.
“Wow, Frimon and Roilan can stick that in their pockets,” Marya commented.
“Yes, that was wonderful. Let’s hope people heard more than just the words,” Nini agreed, and suggested they go try some of the new food.
Jema followed them toward the displays. Once again she felt the little sting from what Nini didn’t say, like she hadn’t said anything that day after Daili’s visit. Marya was different – she’d not restrained herself – but Nini’s silence hurt more than Marya’s scolding. Marya might as well say it now: It wasn’t only Roilan and Frimon who’d been told to be more tolerant toward each other.
A tap on her shoulder made Jema turn to find Frantag in front of her. “As you always seem to get things to go your way, I’ll let you start up Learners in the home behind the social building, but I want to hear the exact plans before I give my final approval.”
Surprised into silence by this sudden offer, Jema didn’t know what to do.
“Well, isn’t that what you wanted?” he asked.
“Yes, sure.” She’d have Daili to thank for this, if not directly then because of that speech just now. “Thank you. I’m sorry for being so stupid before,” she said quickly, because she had to say something.
Frantag started laughing, something she’d rarely seen him do. “Stupid? No. You were rude, insolent, stubborn, and aggressive, but not stupid. That is one word that doesn’t describe you.” With that, he walked off.
“Well, may the truth be spoken!” Marya joked.
Jema gave her a shove, but Marya was right. Never mind all the other words, which were no doubt accurate; that last remark had been almost a compliment. Anything else she could live with.
Walking around the trefin was like walking around Greguia on a holiday; a bit of normality. On Nini’s request, they avoided the political gatherings, but Jema did go to Frimon’s corner for a moment to say hello to Leni. She found her cleaning up Rorag’s face, which was bruised and swollen. He smiled at her, but Jema didn’t want to ask. She promised Leni to come over for meals tomorrow and went back to Nini and Marya.
Marya insisted on trying every bit of new food – including the seafood which looked like hairy beans, bright blue inside and tasteless – but then she left them to go and see a friend. Jema followed Nini around a display and suddenly found herself face-to-face with Daili. Nini excused herself and left them standing.
“Great speech.”
“Thank you.” Daili looked around as if not knowing whether to stay or go. She looked tired, the soft grey of her eyes a little less bright. Despite the food problem, she seemed to have gained weight.
“Shame about the library.”
“Disastrous,” Daili agreed.
Jema wondered if she should tell her what Frantag had just said; say sorry like she had to him.
“Jari isn’t here today. Have you spoken to her yet?” Daili asked.
“No, not yet.” Jema had not noticed if Jari was here. She’d forgotten about Daili’s request.
“Yes, anyhow, I had better go find my kids.”
“I’ll see you around,” Jema answered.
“Sure.”
Daili left – relieved probably. Why was it so hard to have one simple conversation? Daili had been her friend. Daili had made it possible for her to have Learners, to get it back now, to be on this journey in the first place.
Nini didn’t ask. Jema didn’t have to tell. She wasn’t even surprised anymore by Nini’s ability to read whole stories from the look on a face.
“Let’s go home,” Nini said. Stories could also be told from an intonation, of course.
“Nini, I’m sorry. It just came too sudden. I didn’t know how…”
“Don’t.”
Slowly and silently, they walked home. This had been meant to be a day off for Nini, to relax and have fun, but now they were going home while everybody else was still having a good time.
Once there, Nini picked up their hot water jug and left for the central kitchen. She wasn’t often like this.
Lost for what to do, Jema ran her hand over the ledge tha
t held their special possessions: the decorated box Jitsi had given Jema, which had Kaspi’s poem, as well as her photographs of Klara and Nori, of her mother, sister and nieces, and of Kaspi and her family. She had none of Kityag: Purposely left behind. Beside it sat a small pouch in which Marya kept all her memories, worn from having been carried around for years. Nini had one photograph of her momma but none of Mektar. Most important to her was the toy nobi which sat on her mat.
Marya and Nini had helped build this home while Jema was on SJilai. Without asking, Jema’s chest and mat had been moved in. Nini had organized it, never doubting that Jema would be happy with the arrangement. Jema had only worried about Anoyak, but Nini had taken care of that as well. Anoyak would stay with Frimon; he wanted to. Tiya had no objections either since there were only a handful of children left in the home.
With the new roommates had come new visitors: Saski and Tiya had come once or twice, as Irma and Flori did occasionally. Maike had come in almost every day before the expedition, as had a few of Marya’s friends, Tarin and Remko, and Benjamar.
He and Nini were close. Their friendship inevitable through the loss of Jitsi. It was his visits Jema enjoyed most, but sometimes she felt a little sorry for Nini, who was less inclined to discuss issues. Marya was a joy to debate with; she wasn’t like Kityag, who’d cut off any conversation in which opinions differed. The more Jema disagreed with Marya, the more they both got involved, but never angry or personal. Benjamar would, if anything, stir them up.
With everybody else always dropping in, Jema only ever went to visit Leni at her home and with her Anoyak.
Nini returned with the water and started filling their cups with a brew made from a local purple pod. As had become habit, they went out to sit on the step. Nini rested her elbows on her knees and drank in silence. The sky turned a darker red and then black, with only the dim light of Kun DJar’s smallest moon looking down. Far away, the vague sounds of the trefin could still be heard.