The Nichan Smile

by C. J. Merwild

  “Hang on. A few years?” Ero looked between the two women. “You can’t be serious.”

  “It took me a long time to learn my true form,” Lienn said. “In the beginning, the transformation alone was painful, traumatic. Then I had to relearn how to walk, run, fight, all in a body five times stronger, faster, and bigger than the one I grew up in. You cannot imagine the danger Domino would pose to your nichans if he were to launch an assault on the Blessers without having tamed his original form. And from what I gathered, it is fear for his people’s safety that now imprisons him in his camouflage.”

  “Domino is no longer a child. A few years, as you anticipate, won’t be necessary.”

  “Make no mistake, Ueto Ero.”

  “You’re asking us to stay here indefinitely. My clan awaits my return. This pilgrimage wasn’t supposed to last forever. We don’t have years.”

  “A messenger will be sent to explain the situation,” said Vevdel.

  “A messenger is not what my people needs. They need me.”

  “If you don’t wish to stay away from yours, nothing stops you from going home yourself to inform them while Domino starts his training.”

  “And leave him to you? Do you take me for a fool?”

  Domino clenched his fists. Once again, like that day in the auditorium when Issba and Ero had been debating his future, they all talked about him as if he weren’t here.

  He’d had enough. “Ero, come on. I—”

  “Shut up!”

  The order had the effect of a rock forced down his throat. In front of Lienn and her mother, Domino fell silent. He lowered his eyes to the table, unable to face the two women.

  Treated like a child, no matter what.

  “Ueto Ero,” Vevdel said, still calm, sitting up in her chair. “The peoples of Torbatt have governed themselves alone since the Gods disappeared. No Matrons, no kings. You already know that. It’s an everyday struggle, but we survive this scourge. I look at these two young people at this table, and I feel hopeful. I look at you, and all I feel is suspicion.” Ero raised his chin, chuckling ever so slightly. “I don’t know anything about you, about your past, about your clan, about your plans for your protégés. Yet my daughter is ready to welcome you and yours as if we all belonged to the same family. We don’t consider you an enemy, or a stray sheep in need of protection. Above all, we see nichan brothers who almost lost their lives a few days ago, and who found salvation in the help my people gave them without the slightest hesitation.”

  She paused, leaning towards Ero. Her previous kindness was now but a memory.

  “For the moment, our agents report that the Blessers still face strong resistance from the Sirlhain population. Attacks regularly break out, killing so many that the survivors have barely enough time to bury the dead.”

  “Some towns have been destroyed by the Blessers, then abandoned to the Corruption and spirits,” Lienn added. She noticed Domino’s alarmed gaze and turned to him. “The Blessers mock spirits and the danger they pose when their numbers are too great. They believe that once the Gods return, everything will revert to the way it was.”

  “And they believe wholeheartedly that their return will grow from our ashes,” said Vevdel. “They won’t give up. And their followers don’t care about borders; they’re born on our lands. The Blessers will soon try to cross them. They will.”

  Ero frowned. “You think I don’t know that? This condescension is almost insulting. Careful. One might actually think you take me for a fool.”

  “Rest assured, I don’t, Ueto Ero. Quite the opposite. You know what we’re up against. You also know that once the east attacks, our country and our people will go to war, and the southern Torbatt, of which your village is a part, will be the first to fall unless you join forces with us. Our people’s survival is all that matters.”

  And the silence returned. The echo of Vevdel’s voice, soft and deep, was broken by the scraping of a chair on the stones. Ero stood. The others sat motionless, dumbfounded.

  “A beautiful speech,” he said. “I’ll think about it, and you’ll have my answer as soon as possible. Domino, come with me. We’re leaving.”

  They left the fort, found rain and night, and crossed the main square, the only paved area outside the wide alley splitting the city in two. After returning home, Domino closed the door behind him and tapped into everything that constituted his will and freedom to speak. Ero’s order was dispelled, but a cautious part of Domino advised him to keep quiet. He had no intention of doing so, not after having been trapped in silence throughout most of the meeting.

  “Are you going to refuse? It’s a chance we won’t get again, Ero.”

  Standing in front of the brazier, taking off his shawl as the house had significantly warmed, his uncle glanced at him. “What do you know about it? The two of you may not be the only ones.”

  Domino ran an exhausted hand through his hair. “Are we playing this opportunity on speculation now? Are we? You’d risk waiting forever just to find out if there’s another clan as powerful as this one with a Liyion in its ranks? It’s a fucking miracle Lienn exists, you know it as well as I do. Look at the sky, Ero. Miracles are as rare as sunlight. I get the feeling you want to antagonize the Riskans.”

  “We’re here because of me, don’t you forget that.”

  “Because of you? Because you dragged Memek and me all the way south, hoping those partisan-infested lands would trigger a reaction in me? You know, Memek was right. We were going around in circles.”

  His uncle sighed and turned away from him. Just as Domino thought the conversation was coming to an end, Ero searched one of the saddlebags and fished something out of it. Then he reached out to Domino, roughly took his hand and stuck a piece of paper in it. “Do you think chance has anything to do with that? That I am playing with your life and my daughter’s life?”

  Domino unfolded the crumpled piece of paper. He didn’t immediately recognize it, although it was familiar. It was a propaganda poster inciting whoever reading it to join the fight against nichans. Ero couldn’t read it, but Domino could.

  “The Great Evil spares no region. Do not let it slip under your bed. Join us or make your contribution. The beast must die,” said the slogan beneath a monstrous caricature of a nichan face.

  “I’m lost,” Domino said.

  “Everybody thought it’s a portrait of a nichan. I thought so, too, at first. And then I paid attention to this. This circle.” Ero followed the edge of the sketch with his fingertip. “Does it ring a bell? Because I haven’t forgotten the day you transformed to kill that dohor. The memory of that beast will remain forever engraved in my mind. A beast that looks like your bride, black as death, with a smile on its face and a golden ring floating around its mouth.”

  Domino lowered his eyes to the poster. Anyone would have considered this circle as the frame of the portrait. But not Ero. When the man looked at the drawing, he saw Domino—Domino’s true face.

  “He sees everything and knows everything,” Domino whispered to himself. “You could have been wrong.”

  “It was a risk worth taking. I’d been following this rumor for a while. It’s a sometimes-useful characteristic of humans: they love gossip and share it with everyone. When I saw that woman holding up that poster, I knew, and I figured if I’m going to take a chance, I might as well go for it.”

  Ero had been hiding this from him for weeks. Perhaps warning Domino would have been enough to give him hope, to find what was hidden deep inside him. Instead, he’d almost been killed by a bear and then by partisans. He’d been hanged. Indeed, the gamble had paid off, but at what price? Domino had almost given up . . . Given up on himself.

  He gave himself a few seconds to get his thoughts in order. Between this revelation and the news of their alliance with the Riskans—and his marriage—he felt as if his skull was about to burst.

  What was done was done. There was no point in dwelling on the past.

  “Finding the beast on that poster w
as your goal, right?” he said, shaking the sheet under his uncle’s nose. “Yes? Well it’s done, we found it.”

  “You can thank me.”

  “If that’s what you wanted, why are you making such a fuss? Because Lienn is the leader of her clan?”

  “No.”

  “Then what is it? You were hoping to find a lone creature to recruit, someone willing to swear an oath to you?”

  “You really don’t understand anything.”

  “What I understand right now is that you’re just screwing with them for the sake of it.”

  “Watch your mouth. I’m tired, and my patience is running thin today.”

  “Then I’ll make it short. Accept this alliance so I can start training. I’m ready to get married and have children for—” He paused, this reality momentarily cutting off his voice. Becoming a father was the last thing he’d intended to do. He pulled himself together. “You want a pure blood to fight for the Uetos. Guess what? I’ll fight. I know exactly what the partisans are capable of,” he said, pointing to his throat still reddened by the rope. “Lienn is my only chance. Our only chance, unless you’d rather get ours back and flee to the other side of the world.”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Joining another clan is a long-term agreement. It completely redefines the life of the entire community. They want us to come and live here, to leave our village, these lands we have cultivated, these houses we have built. Our way of life will be completely overwritten by theirs.”

  “Well, look at that,” Domino whispered, both amused and bitter. “Houses and cultivated lands. Here you are caring about such . . . human ways of life.”

  His voice was still echoing in his mouth when Ero grabbed Domino’s collar. The young man found himself two fingers away from his uncle’s face.

  Once again, Domino should have thought twice before speaking. Yet each reply that was sent back to his leader’s face filled him with ecstasy, like a takeover, despite the risks. He clenched his teeth to hold back the satisfied smile that attempted to betray him.

  “Stop playing games,” Ero advised him, each deep scar on his face reminding everyone of what he’d survived.

  “We won’t be the first to leave our home because of this conflict.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m doing everything I can to avoid it.”

  “With the Blessers coming, it’s gonna happen anyway.”

  “I need to think about it.”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  A memory. Words. They popped into Domino’s mind: The truth is you’re afraid he’ll dominate you. Fear no more, Ero, for he will.

  Issba’s words spoken more than three years ago. Fear that Domino would dominate him. By being at the heart of the alliance between two clans? By fighting alongside Lienn? By regaining control of his life and body?

  Yes, Domino thought. Deep down inside, he knew that Ero was afraid of all this. His nephew growing stronger. Stronger than him.

  “This isn’t the first alliance I’ve tried to forge,” his uncle replied, releasing him. “And the last time, nichans died, and your mother turned her back on me.”

  Ero grabbed the poster and threw it into the fire. The paper burned down in the blink of an eye. Domino barely noticed it.

  “Why? What happened?” he asked.

  What did you do to her? he meant.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “By the Faces, just tell me. For what it’s worth, it matters to me.”

  Apart from a few complaints about his older brother, Ako had never explained in detail what had motivated her departure. By leaving her clan and turning her back on her chief, she’d become an orphan. Her essence, once tied to a whole community, had been forced to live in solitude. His mother had Mora at the time, so she wasn’t entirely alone, but the oath was a powerful vow. It took great mental strength to break it. Domino suspected that it was for this reason that Ako had lost sleep, for this reason that his memories of a happy mom were scarce.

  He took a step toward his uncle, desperate to learn more. “Please. At least tell me your side of the story. It’s not like my mother would contradict you where she is.”

  “It’s late, Domino. Go to bed and let me handle this myself.”

  But the next morning, as Domino joined Memek for breakfast—a tray of black bread, boiled eggs, and smoked fish that Domino ignored—the young woman told him in a few mumbles that Ero had left before dawn to talk with the Riskan Clan chief.

  Domino was pacing around the room, making his cousin dizzy, when Ero reappeared and announced the news.

  He’d just accepted the alliance and set the terms with Lienn. One of them gave the three Uetos the right to go wherever they wanted in the city, to act as if they were Riskans. Ero kept the rest of the negotiation to himself.

  I see, Domino thought. He badly needed to find Lienn and talk to her.

  Alone.

  X X X I

  The window of Gus’s hut didn’t require him to tiptoe up to look outside. In building the small house, Domino had measured what he considered to be the optimal height for the two friends to enjoy the outside view. The calculations hadn’t taken into account how much Domino would grow along the years. Before he left, when he wanted to take a look out the window, he had to bend in half. He would still grow in the years to come. A youthful mistake, he’d laughed.

  Standing in front of the window, Gus thought of the day he’d taken his few belongings to his hut. Asking where to put them, Domino had approached, grabbed the clothes, and thrown them into the reed box at the foot of the bed, along with his own.

  “I’ll try not to confuse your things with mine.”

  “You’d never fit into my clothes,” Gus had said.

  Domino’s face had brightened with a mischievous smile. “Are you challenging me?”

  The seams on the sides of Gus’s pants had cracked when Domino put the garment on forcibly. Both boys had laughed their heads off. Gus had put on the nichan outfit. He was swimming in it. Anything Domino wore could fit two men like Gus without either of them feeling cramped.

  Gus looked down at the tunic he held in his hands. It belonged to Domino. He’d just washed it with his own clothes. The tunic hadn’t been used since Domino’s departure, yet Gus continued to incorporate it into his laundry.

  He put it in the wicker basket, took off his own tunic and dressed himself in Domino’s. Still wet and cold, the linen clung to his skin. The cloth had no slits to fit the Vestige’s wings. It didn’t matter. Gus tightened the tunic around his flanks, his hand disappearing inside the long sleeves, filling his chest with the soothing scent of soap. On Domino, it reached halfway up his thighs. Today, it hid Gus’s knees.

  A seductive glimmer shined in the corner of the room. An amber glow. Domino’s necklace. Gus stood still for a long time, his gaze piercing the transparent resin riddled with bubbles.

  Before he even realized he’d moved, he grabbed the jewel and, as if to perfect his outfit, passed it around his neck. The piece of sap swung against his chest, without any temperature of its own, weightless. Against his pale, slightly pinkish skin, the object took on a darker, redder hue. Around Domino’s neck, the amber had always seemed brighter, like an incandescent flame compared to the beautiful dark bronze that enveloped his body.

  A scream echoed outside. Gus raised his chin distractedly. Through the window he saw nothing at first, then a figure came running toward him. A gray shawl, black braids swaying with each step. It was Belma.

  “Dadou! By the faces!” The woman bent down and disappeared from Gus’s sight. “No, no, no, don’t move,” said the woman in an alarmed voice. “Show me.”

  “The bucket was too heavy,” replied a small voice made hoarse by age.

  “What bucket?”

  “The bucket full of . . . of fish. The handle broke. There’s never anyone to fix broken things.”

  A pause and then a sigh.

  “You’re bleeding, Dadou.”
<
br />   “But my fish . . . ”

  “Do you want me to call the Vestige?” asked another voice in the distance.

  Gus looked down at his own body. Invisible under Domino’s large clothes, bruises swarmed across his skin. On his arms, his legs. Although Beïka hadn’t touched him for nearly a week, Gus’s face was still marked.

  “I’ll go get him,” said another voice, one that Gus recognized immediately despite his mind numb with memories.

  Matta was coming.

  Gus took off the tunic and was retrieving his own when three knocks rang out against the door leaf. Having anticipated them didn’t spare his heart, and he started. Beïka didn’t announce himself before entering, but the knocks against the wood were like a fist crashing against Gus’s temple.

  He hurriedly tied his clothes, slipping the necklace under his tunic—which had also been a little too big for some time—and joined Matta outside. She didn’t have time to announce herself or explain the situation. She looked up at Gus with squinted eyes as he passed her without a glance. He walked around the hut and found Dadou sitting on the floor, blood on her face. She’d lost a shoe in her fall, and Belma, crouching in front of her great-grandmother, didn’t seem to care. She was far too concerned about Dadou’s condition. A wound hemmed the old nichan’s wrinkled forehead.

  Without a word, Gus approached and knelt before the village elder. When she noticed his presence, Dadou moved backwards, and the hand she raised in front of her trembled. “What’s that?” cried the old woman.

  Gus stopped immediately, heavy-hearted. Dadou had known him for years. With Mora and Domino, he’d shared more than one meal with Belma and her great-grandmother. She hadn’t spoken to him often, but Dadou had never had such a reaction upon laying eyes on him.

  She had not seen him up close for more than three years. Since Mora died, since Belma forbade Domino to approach her family. Besides, the old woman was senile, and her condition had probably worsened since they’d last met, he told himself. Even so . . .