He ran a hand over his sweaty face, as if to check that the nichan smile wasn’t splitting his face in two. If there was a nichan Domino refused to threaten, it was indeed Mora.
“I don’t know what . . . I . . .” he stammered.
Mora’s hands rested on his shoulders and he led Domino to the low bench behind him. Then the man knelt in front of his little brother, his tender touch on the top of Domino’s head. “Breathe. Calm down.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You did nothing. You just shouted. It’s fine. Just breathe. Breathe.”
Domino did so as a soft, tired voice soothed Natso on the other side of the hut. The soft humming of Belma’s voice reached even the teenager’s heart.
It wasn’t uncommon for the younger ones to have poor control of their transformation. Unable to transform, Domino reinforced this well-known rule. However, poor control of emotions was a problem that only he seemed to face.
“Look, that’s just the way it is, like it or not,” Mora said. “Gus is a big boy, he’ll understand.”
“That’s the problem. We shouldn’t have to keep asking him to understand why we’re shutting him out. I hate to hurt him,” Domino whispered, still mastering the comings and goings of the air in his lungs. “You know what it’s like when he shuts down.”
Silence, not a look, a tense posture, and a cold expression. This was what Domino feared, for then he felt unable to help his friend. As soon as Gus closed up to him, it was like stepping back in time, to the days when the human’s behavior was closer to that of a frightened beast struggling in a snare than an ordinary child. But there was nothing ordinary about Gus. Domino knew this better than anyone.
“It’s only a morning,” Mora said in a soft voice. “We must be at the Stones before daylight. Tell him he can sleep longer. We know he’s dreaming about it.”
But the joke fell flat.
“Do you want me to tell him?” Mora suggested, though he probably knew the answer.
His brother shook his head and stood to leave.
Gus was alone when he woke up the next morning. A sweltering heat bathed him in his own sweat. He turned on his wings—a somewhat uncomfortable position—and gazed at the wooden frame and the rudimentary insulation of woven bamboo.
The hut officially belonged to Domino. He himself had built this modest dwelling when Mora had decided to move in with Belma and Dadou, long before the young woman’s pregnancy was announced. Even though Mora and Gus had helped him, most of the work was Domino’s doing.
“Not too bad for an offspring. Look at the roof; it’s still standing,” Domino joked sometimes.
He’d only been eleven at the time, taking part in his first hunting trainings around the village with the other children, learning to live with a body that suddenly demanded the change all nichans went through.
And on his first night in this hut, Domino had offered Gus to share it with him.
The hut that the three brothers and Gus had occupied until now was reserved for visitors. It had no fire to warm them on winter nights and no water supply. Now that the three nichans had freed it, only the Gods knew where Gus would find rest at night. He had hesitated to accept his friend’s proposal even though it made sense. Domino’s hospitality knew no limits when it came to Gus, which reminded the human how much his well-being within the clan depended on their friendship.
“This is your home,” Gus had said in a detached tone, devoid of sadness, as if sleeping on a pile of dead leaves was not bothersome.
“You’re right.” Domino had smiled as he slumped down on his bed, which had made a creaking sound, stealing a grimace, then a laugh from him. “So, if it’s my home, I’ll invite whoever I want, right? So consider that my home is your home.”
The two boys had been sleeping side by side for years. They used to lie down and talk, to discover the stories Domino was making up, interrupted most often by Mora or Beïka, who ordered them to shut up and sleep. Gus had had no desire for this to change.
He had moved toward the bed, leaning forward, palms flat against the mattress, and pretended to test its solidity. Domino had grown so much that it wouldn’t be long for his feet to stick beyond the bed frame. He’d looked at Gus with a smile on his face. Then Gus had laid down beside him.
Yes, he liked it here.
Gus sat up on the straw mattress and stretched out his arms and wing. Then he remembered Domino had gotten up long before dawn to follow his family to the Prayer Stones. He wouldn’t be back until lunch. Gus got up in turn.
The heat slowed his every move as he took care of his responsibilities. Washing the bandages and sheets of the infirmary. Sweeping the sanctuary. Collecting nuts that had fallen from the trees inside the village. He stuffed half of them in his mouth for breakfast and then settled under the foliage, crushed by an irresistible languor.
That was when she appeared. She walked with a determined step, her frizzy hair gathered along her skull in fine braids, a bucket of burning fat hanging from her arm.
Gus hadn’t seen or spoken to Matta since . . . Shame rose to his face. He couldn’t say exactly how long, but for sure more than two years had passed since their last lesson. Maybe even three.
The last lesson hadn’t really been one. Domino and Gus were running out of attention. The nichans had just returned from a hunt and had brought back the fresh corpse of a huge saurian, or what was left of its carcass. It was time for the kids to know what these creatures could look like, not to study. They’d run away without heeding the woman’s firm warnings. Upon their return, Matta was gone. She’d then ended their weekly sessions for good.
Gus followed the woman’s procession along the edge of the woods. She went to the nearest lamp and filled it with several ladles of solid fat.
He missed their lessons. He’d learned so much from Matta. Unlike most of the Uetos, Gus and Domino could read and write. Knowledge they had no use for within these walls, but whatever. It was something that would never be taken from them.
Matta was a Santig’Nell. In the end, Gus didn’t have to remember the word; she’d told him herself. A Santig’Nell, a human chosen by the Matrons to serve the peoples of the world.
“The Matrons?” had asked an eight-year-old Domino before uttering words that had earned him punishment later that day. “Are those the giant rocks everyone’s talking about?”
“They are our guides, our protectors in these difficult times,” Matta had said once her anger had passed. “They are not rocks, but magnificent crystals of great purity, thousands of years old, witnesses of our world’s creation, entities whose understanding of life and history far surpasses that of beings of flesh and blood. The world was brutally wounded when the Gods were taken from us. From the height of their wisdom and greatness, the Matrons watch over us, like mothers. We Santig’Nells share their word and watch over the Gods’ creatures, as they have instructed us to do.”
“Can I be a Santig’Nell too?”
“We’re not; we become.”
“Oh. Can I become one, then?”
“No, Domino. To be eligible for such an ascension, one must be a host devoid of all Light. In the blood of nichans already flows the Gods’ Light. You all call it Essence, right? What makes your transformation possible. A wonderful gift. The Eye offered by the Matrons requires room, plenty of room, to develop its full potential.”
“Plenty of . . . room. A larger body? But I, too, will become very large.”
Matta had smiled. “That is not the point. Only humans are chosen by the Matrons and raised by the Worth of the Santig’Nell to prevent wars, to protect the peoples, to—”
“Stop the Blessers?” Gus had interrupted. The title of Usurpers hadn’t been erased from his vocabulary yet.
Without his knowing why, Matta had then ended their lesson.
A simple thought occurred to him. Gus wasn’t the only member of the clan forbidden to climb to the Prayer Stones. Matta was the other one. Two humans, he a Vestige, she a Santig’Nell, li
ving among nichans.
Gus lost sight of the woman and left the cover of the trees. He didn’t know what to say to her, but he still wished to trade words, if only to let her know he hadn’t completely forgotten her. Before he’d even decided what he’d say, he was bent over the hen houses, looking for eggs that had already been collected before he woke up. A few steps away, Matta continued her task by another lamp, and then another, gradually getting closer to Gus. Then she stopped and noticed him.
Innocently, he looked up at her.
“Good morning,” she said, her forehead covered with sweat under the leaden sky.
He bent down to search the straw under the belly of a hen. Nothing, of course.
“Long time, no see,” he said.
“Well, I’m not to blame. You know very well where to find me. In fact, I don’t remember you asking me for lessons lately.”
“Lessons? Do you still have anything valuable to teach me?”
He felt foolish from the moment those words came out of his mouth. He showed no sign of it and went to the next pen, kicking away with a light push the poultry lurking around him, on the lookout.
“I sure do,” Matta said, walking to the next lamp a few feet away. “You’ll understand one day that we creatures of flesh and bone and limited intelligence never cease to learn. And I have the feeling a number of my lessons have already vanished from your memory.”
“Have they, now?”
“Of course. My methods are not infallible, I must admit, and you and Domino were not always attentive students. A lesson in first-rate conduct: your peers will always appreciate a proper greeting.”
Gus continued to search the cages, stood, and at last turned his eyes to her. “Hello,” he said, and she giggled briefly.
“I forgot you reached this point.”
“This point?”
“Yes, this point. This difficult age for all humans and nichans. Even we Santig’Nells have to bear the burden of this change. Always showing a bit of insolence, playing with orders and adult advice, pretending to know more than they do, challenging them to find out where their limits stand. Like a game. Let’s hope it passes too soon rather than too late.”
“Gods forbid, I already can’t leave this village. Without it, I would be quite bored.”
Realizing that he was feeling sorry for himself—which he loathed above anything else—Gus looked away. His eyes landed on the vegetable peelings stored nearby, and he threw several stiff handfuls of them at his feet. The hens rejoiced.
Just as he feared, Matta took pity on him. “You know where to find me if you need lessons . . . or company.”
“I’d rather remain insolent,” he said, cutting short the conversation.
He turned away from her and cursed himself for not paying more attention to his own tongue. Good thing Domino wasn’t around. His reaction would have pissed off Gus even more.
He didn’t want anyone’s pity, not now, not ever. He’d survived until today because he’d fought, not because he was pitied, he thought. He would survive no matter what happened, here or even outside the village. His coexistence with the Uetos was his doing—yes, it was his decision.
He repeated this to himself a second time as he returned to the sanctuary to complete his morning chores.
X I
When Domino returned that midday, his smile heralded great plans.
Sitting in the sanctuary, determined to enjoy the meal he deserved after all his efforts, Gus watched his friend sit across from him, his eyes shining. His smile kept getting bigger and bigger, mischievous. Domino was preparing something, which he hadn’t done in a long time.
Gus liked the possibility, although he remained impassive. He was still trying to suppress the remnants of his bad mood after his conversation with Matta. “That’s a big smile.”
“Do you want to go out?” Domino said offhandedly.
“Out? In the village?”
“I feel like going for a swim. It’s way too hot today. Don’t you want to go out?”
He was talking in a low voice, even though no one was within earshot, according to Gus. His senses weren’t as developed as a nichan’s.
Gus put down his spoon and tilted his head to the side. “You bet I want. We’re roasting outside. In here, we’re stewing. Do I look like a piglet?”
Domino shook his head hilariously, without taking his eyes off him.
“What’s on your mind?” Gus finally asked him, lowering his voice, leaning forward, immediately imitated by the nichan, who spread out flatter on his stomach on top of the table.
“Everyone’s busy, half stunned by the heat. I like this torpor in them. I could spend all day snoring, and it would go way over their heads. And that’s good; I don’t feel like working today.”
“This part was clear already. You said you wanted to swim. Where?”
Domino looked around. At the end of the adjoining table, Ero and his daughter had just joined Orsa, who was already eating. Beïka sat farther away with other nichans, laughing, his mouth full of wild pig and carrots. No one cared about the two friends. Not even when Domino jumped from his seat.
“Are you ready to be blown away?”
For an answer, Gus followed him.
The village river was shallow, as wide as a man’s height, and the Uetos used it to irrigate the gardens and wash their clothes. In early summer, before its bed dried up, children would play in its flow from early in the morning until late after nightfall. It was not in its water that Domino wanted to bathe today, and Gus had already figured that out.
His suspicions were all the more confirmed when Domino led him to the far end of the village, far from the houses, their two silhouettes hidden from the world by the wild bushes and the dense black foliage. Once they reached Surhok’s limits, the nichan squatted and hit the high wall once with his palm. And again. Each time the impact vibrated through the muscles of his arm. Then he looked up and peered around. They were alone. His palm knocked several times again, harder. The blows were powerful but absorbed by the hollow bamboo.
Standing next to him, Gus smiled as the bamboo trunks pivoted at last. The wall was breached. “Faces above . . . You did this?”
Domino’s face lit up with a new and irrepressible pride. He wiped the sweat from his face and neck and put back in place the dark wooden studs stretching his earlobes. “We can still wait for Ero to give you permission to go out, if you feel like it, but I’m sick of asking for permission.”
Gus smiled back, absorbing his friend’s excitement. “You won, I’m blown away,” he said, which added to Domino’s joy. Gus, however, considered the consequences he had no desire to think about right now—but someone had to. “We’ll be in trouble if anyone finds out.”
“No offense, but I can’t hear a single word you say,” Domino said, busy stooping to the opening. “So we should go before someone actually finds out.”
If someone realized what they were about to do, they would be beaten. They were used to the beatings, but the pain and humiliation had never snuffed out their enthusiasm—nothing could, really. Domino would cover for them to lighten their punishment. He’d always done it until now, for consequences were nothing but an inconvenience. Fun was always worth it. And even without the healing gift of his best friend, the burns left by the whip always healed in no time at all.
“I have an outer crust,” Domino used to say.
Gus’s smile stretched. He didn’t care, either. He wanted to get out; he wanted to follow Domino and see what was on the other side of the walls. Neither Ero nor anyone else would stop him. Freedom sometimes required one to look life in the eye and say, “I’m coming for you.”
The two boys bent down, sneaking between the bamboo trunks, and found themselves outside the village walls. Domino bit his lip. He’d probably planned his move before today. He put the trunks back in place, leaving a gap wide enough to slip his hand through on their return, then faced Gus, who was waiting, frozen on his feet, hesitant.
&nb
sp; He hadn’t seen the outside world since he arrived at Surhok. He’d stayed indoors like an obedient pet, as Ero had ordered him to do years before, sometimes ogling the view of the forest as the village gates opened. Not today.
The blue stone was always here in his mind. The Op crystal. His chest tightened.
That’s what he wants. Ero wants me to be afraid. He can kiss my ass. I’m not afraid . . .
Gus looked up at the trees that stretched as far as the eye could see and listened to the lively chant of the wilds, recognizing here and there the cheery song of a bird, the creaking of a branch, the fall and crash of a fruit. Even the hot breeze caressing his chest and slipping in his nostrils smelled different.
He was ready. “Shall we?”
Domino nodded vigorously, jumping from one foot to the other, excited.
They raced under the trees, following each other. They quickly reached a dirt path Domino obviously knew. As he trotted behind Domino, Gus scanned the surroundings. The lack of walls in his way was both intimidating and a thrill. He could have swerved off the path and explored the dark woods and its environs without anyone to hold him back and force him to stay still. Once far enough away from the village, he could scream to frighten the birds, or for the sole delight of breaking his voice. Just because he could. At that moment, as Domino turned around regularly to make sure Gus didn’t lose his stride, all he could think of was the infinite distance he could potentially travel without encountering an obstacle. He forgot the heat and the tingling in his burning feet, forgot that his white skin wouldn’t last long under the gray, yet merciless summer sky.
He accelerated, imploring the Gods to make this moment last.
After long minutes of running, the lapping of the water reached his ears. The two boys came closer, and it grew stronger, livelier. The flicker passed between the trees, and Gus pushed on his legs, frustrated not to be there already.
The Nichan Smile Page 13