by Nōnen Títi
With a thumping heart Wilam tiptoed to the shelter. It was easy to find the jars and have a look in. It was harder to guess how many pebbles that would make together compared to Frimon’s vessel, which was a different shape. And how many others?
Wilam stepped back to gauge the size of the jars before he noticed the silent figure leaning against the shelter on the other side of the Hearth. As soon as he looked up, Jema raised her eyebrows and smiled.
Wilam felt his face turn red-hot. “I wasn’t– …I was just– …I mean–” It was hopeless. She’d never believe him anyhow. He started running, away from the hearth, up the path until he was near the next homes. He didn’t look back. If you can’t handle it maybe you shouldn’t be a farmer, went through his mind. But he’d have to handle it. He’d be guilty if he let Tigor do this.
Afraid that one of the farmers would come over the rise, Wilam started running again when he reached the cave, uphill to his own hearth. He stopped for a moment at his own shelter, but he didn’t want to go in, in case… Instead he called at Kolyag’s home.
“There was never a chance of Tigor getting a majority vote. This village doesn’t even have a majority of crop farmers and not every one of them stands behind him,” Kolyag said, stamping his boot on the ground, while Wilam ate the soup Elsa had given him. “I may only get a few votes myself, Wilam, but every vote I get is one less for Tigor.”
Wilam didn’t tell him that Tigor had at least one vote already to which he wasn’t entitled. Kolyag pushed his other boot on, convinced that Tigor was bluffing and intent on stopping him.
“I hope you’re right. He’s making threats against those who don’t back him.”
“Not everybody’s as easily scared by a threat as you are,” Kolyag answered. “Remember what I told you to do if that fog gets closer,” he said to Elsa.
“You just make sure you don’t get yourself into another fight. You both act like young boys, you and Tigor,” she replied. “Watch him for me,” she added to Wilam.
Wilam nodded and followed Kolyag out, feeling warm from the food. Kolyag had sent Doret ahead to alert all the farmers not associated with Tigor’s hearth. They met behind the north latrines.
“You do the talking,” Kolyag said.
It took Wilam a bit of time to find the right words. He didn’t want to use the threat of the fog in case they’d laugh at him. He told the gathered farmers he wanted to know whether he stood alone. If all agreed with Tigor there’d be no use making a stand, but if not… “If I know Benjamar well enough he’ll have them thrown out of the village along with all those who stood by and did nothing to stop it.”
Once Kolyag said they were planning to walk up to the area and confront Tigor if he had enough support, something changed in the group of quiet listeners. Within no time Wilam knew that Tigor had no majority and these men were ready to prove that. Battle cries sounded as soon as Kolyag started marching west. Reluctantly, Wilam joined him at the front. Was it right to do this? Would this be solved with just words? To Tigor, talking would mean losing face. He’d be more than ready to fight.
Behind Wilam the voices got louder. They were enjoying this. He could hear it. He saw it in Kolyag’s face, in Doret’s, even. By the time they reached the cave they were ready for war and Wilam was sorry he’d accepted Elsa’s breakfast.
It took only moments for Tigor’s men, who had started digging just over the rise where Wilam had met them earlier, to notice the challengers. They hoisted their diggers and picks onto their shoulders and came to meet them. Some had knives.
Kolyag put up his hand to stop his army and turned to Doret. “Go to the village and get help.”
“Why me?” Doret asked.
“Because I say so!”
Doret needed no second warning. He set out in a run. Kolyag was right to call for reinforcements. The two groups may be roughly equal in number, but Tigor’s men were armed. And they stopped but an arm’s length away from Wilam. “You making trouble?”
“N-no.” Wilam tried to ignore the trembling of his legs and the sweat running down his back. He hated the sound of his own voice, but it was too late to go back now.
“You’re the one making trouble and we have come to stop you. Remove the seedlings or there will be trouble,” Kolyag said.
Tigor laughed and raised the digger in front of Kolyag’s face, accusing him of being a cattle farmer and a whole list of insults. His friends chimed in.
Kolyag took the assault of words with surprising calm, as if he’d expected them.
“Benjamar will kick you out,” Wilam said, because he had to back up Kolyag somehow.
Tigor turned his weapon into Wilam’s direction. “You hear that? He’s gone and told the old man. You hide behind his back if you want, but this is now an otacy and we farmers are in the majority here.”
Wilam straightened his shoulders, his eyes on the digger. “W-we farmers are, but you farmers are n-not,” he stuttered.
“If you don’t remove the seedlings we’ll do it for you!” a voice behind Wilam shouted.
“Nobody removes anything!” Tigor yelled back.
“Don’t make a mistake–” Wilam started, before a jerk on his arm sent him flying into the dirt. The digger missed him by a hand’s breadth.
Before Wilam had a chance to get up, people were running past him. Kolyag, who had just rescued him from the digger, was hit on the head and fell down.
“No, stop!” Wilam felt a panic. People would die here. He ran to where Kolyag was. His friend had stood up already and, with a bleeding head, yanked one of the large flat plamals out of the soil to use as a shield.
All around Wilam people were fighting. The noise was deafening. He had only just time to realize that this wasn’t a people noise when he saw Tigor right in front of him, holding a knife. Without thinking Wilam took a hold of the dangerous arm with one hand and used the other to punch his opponent in the face.
Tigor, twice his age and not as tall, dropped to the ground. Wilam waited for him to get back up, while keeping his foot on the knife. He could punch him again; it would be easy. Behind Tigor he saw the first heads come over the rise, those of Doret and Aryan. He took a step forward just in case, but Tigor had other worries. Most of his men had thrown away their weapons and were sitting down, holding their ears – and not just Tigor’s men. Kolyag was shouting at everyone not to run. “Sit down and surrender. Cover your ears!” One after the other, the farmers did… because of the fog, which was edging towards them, its sound more and more alarming, making the air tremble. Wilam followed the example and sat down with his ears covered – although that made no difference for the noise.
Not Tigor. He picked up a digger and started swinging it around, threatening the men who had been his partners. Dizzy from turning, he lost his digger a moment later. Doret immediately dove at his legs while Aryan, who was the last person standing, jumped on top of him as he hit the ground. Instantly it went silent.
Around Wilam, nobody moved, while the soundless fog crept closer. He felt as if his insides were turning to ice when he looked at it, but he couldn’t not look. He saw the other farmers; they sat like statues, motionless, wide-eyed, frozen. Somehow he could think just fine, think that he must himself be sitting there like that, while the fog crawled forward; the sky turned dark red as if night-time. Unable to move – he could not even take his hands from his ears – Wilam waited, waited for it to destroy them, thinking his heart would stop any moment now. He took a quick breath when it reached him; he’d never meet his new baby…
The fog travelled right over his head, so low he could feel its weight, but it never touched him. For a very long time Wilam could only breathe and watch, until the sky was no longer visible. Only then did some warmth return to his skin and could he move his arms.
Around him, the men eyed each other, hesitant, cautious. When it became clear that nobody was falling over dead, some people stood up. Wilam waited, afraid that the fog would start singing again, but it didn’t. He w
atched Doret grin triumphantly at Kolyag before helping Aryan to haul Tigor, who began cursing and shouting, back to his feet. As if by agreement, all the other men stepped out of the way to let the three of them through on the way to the village, then one after the other, they started uphill, hunched under the fog.
“How about you forget what you saw this morning?” one of the election candidates asked Wilam after having helped him to his feet.
Wilam looked about him. The warzone was a testimony to people’s ignorance. Many native plants were lying on the ground, damaged or pulled out. The DJar seedlings were scattered and trampled. One of the huge flattops had collapsed. Above them, the fog had turned day into night. Wilam shook his head. He couldn’t make such a promise.
He handed Kolyag a cloth for his head and they started home together. Kolyag had backed him up. It was only fair to stand beside him if Elsa was going to get mad.
Laytji pushed the toy zibot over with her hand. “He’ll fall over from being tired.”
Beside her on the ledge, Kristag laughed out loud and lifted the figure back up.
“He’ll blow down in the big storm,” Laytji said, and tried to blow the toy over, but when she failed she flicked it with her fingers.
Kristag put the zibot back up and looked at her expectantly.
“He’ll burn…” Laytji paused and glared back at Jema, who had watched them play while eating her lonely breakfast.
Kristag, not ready to wait for a new sentence, used his own hand to knock the zibot down.
“The fog will get it…” Laytji continued, now glaring at Maike.
She was out to provoke and had deliberately refused to respond to either Jema or Maike this morning. Whatever it was Maike had done, Jema didn’t know, but she had no intention of watching Laytji have her little show, so she stood up to leave.
“Hey, you’re supposed to wash up,” Marya called after her.
Yes, she’d do that later after they’d all left. Benjamar was sitting on his bench. He looked up as she stepped outside and nodded briefly. He must be pleased that she wasn’t bothering him anymore. Against his shelter stood the election vessels she’d caught Wilam looking into just a little while ago. Maybe he had wanted to remove the pebble Tigor shouldn’t have had. As if that would make a difference. She wandered into the direction of the south latrines – nothing to do today.
“Jema?” Kunag came running up behind her. She waited for him catch up. Behind him the fog was sitting over the North Hills.
“I didn’t think you’d be talking to me,” she said.
He nodded his head before shaking it. “I wanted to ask Nini but she’s away and you know the Society and Frimon.”
This didn’t sound like it was about last night. “What do you want to know?”
Kunag hesitated and looked around. “Can we go somewhere quiet?”
There was nobody else on the path all the way to the latrines. On the side of the washroom was a little raised hill with some large stones. People often sat there. She pointed to it and Kunag nodded.
“I’m no expert on the Society. What is it you need to ask?”
“I wanted to know what does ‘repent’ mean. I mean, I know what it means, but what does it mean to Frimon?” His reticence confirmed that he’d not intended to ask her.
“For the people of the Society it’s a way to ask forgiveness if they feel they’ve done something wrong.”
“But it isn’t just saying sorry, right? I heard Harmon about it once.”
He must have heard from more than just Harmon. The topic had taken everybody’s imagination from very early on.
“No, it’s more than that. Why do you ask, Kunag?”
He ignored her question. “How is it more?” He looked down at the ground in front of him. He had asked, so the answer must be important to him, but he didn’t want to hear it.
“Okay, what they do is the person paying penance gets hit with a strap while saying the prayers to the person he’s asking forgiveness from.” At least as far as she understood it.
“Is it pretty bad?” he asked.
“Not for them, I guess.”
Kunag blew into his cupped hands and played with his foot in the dirt. “Do they have to do it?”
“No, but I think they encourage it. Why Kunag, what happened?”
“How do you know something happened?” She needed to only look at him before he gave in. “Rorag has to repent tonight, but he doesn’t want to.”
“How come?”
“Frimon says he’ll make him. I think he’s terrified.”
“I’m not sure if Frimon can make him, Kunag, and I’m not sure what you’re asking me for.”
“You know Frimon. Can’t you talk to him?” he pleaded.
As if she had that kind of power. “Kunag, it’s none of my business. It’s their belief and Frimon is Rorag’s father. I can’t interfere in that.”
Kunag slumped and stared into the distance. He had put his hopes on her and was being disappointed.
“I could ask Leni if it would be wrong for Frimon to force Rorag. She knows them much better. She’s at Styna’s now, but I could ask her later.”
“No! Nobody should know.”
“Look, they do those penances in front of their whole community. It’s likely all of them will know.”
For a while Kunag seemed to be torn between getting up and staying put. He let his eyes go over all that surrounded them. A few times he lifted his head to look at her, but then changed his mind.
“Kunag, I think you’re keeping something you may need to tell. What made Frimon so angry that he would force Rorag to repent?”
“Nothing. He just got angry. We were only talking. We told him we were just talking.”
“Why would Frimon think you weren’t ‘just talking’?”
“Because we had no shirts on, I think. That’s all I can think of.”
“When was this?”
“Last night, late, or this morning. Kun was just coming up.”
“You weren’t at home?”
“At the stream. Rorag said that nobody knew that place and then Frimon came. Maybe he saw everything.”
“What would he have seen?”
“We were in the water.”
“Swimming?”
“Just getting wet, you know, but we had no clothes on.”
“Well, it would have been silly to go into the water with your clothes on.”
He didn’t smile, even a little bit.
“So is Frimon upset about you two swimming at night without clothes on?” she asked.
“I don’t know. He wasn’t there then. I don’t think he was.”
“Does Frimon object to Rorag spending time with you?”
“We never did before. I didn’t really know him until last night.”
“So how did you get to swimming?”
“It just happened. Rorag was lonely and sad. He said it helped him feel better.”
“Right. And you were hurt and sad too?”
Kunag didn’t answer. He could have blamed her or yelled at her, but he was reluctant to admit it even now.
“So you decided to go along. You were both lonely, so you got together. That’s okay.”
“It was more than that,” he whispered.
She nodded for him to start. He stumbled over his words, never once looked up from the ground in which he drew a mas of circles with his foot. She let him tell it all, but she’d understood, both the situation and why he’d hoped for Nini, who could be trusted. But Nini wasn’t there and it had been too much for him to wait. It wasn’t just the penance. He was afraid; afraid of the repercussions, not only because he feared it had been wrong, but because Rorag was still a boy. By DJar standards Kunag was a man and an incident like this, one moment of relaxation, would have made him a user – if not worse.
Jema put her hand on his suffering back. “And now you think Frimon may be right to punish Rorag? That you did something wrong and everybody will hear about it?”
He responded with a move that was somewhere between a “yes” and an “I don’t know”.
“Was it wrong, Kunag?”
“I guess.”
“Did you or Rorag hurt each other or anybody in any way?”
He shook his head just once.
“Did either of you feel forced into it?”
“No.”
“So how could it be wrong? How can two people loving each other be wrong, Kunag? How come you accept people fighting as normal but not love?”
He looked confused. “It wasn’t love, it was just… If it wasn’t wrong why does Rorag have to repent for it?”
Of course, Kunag wasn’t stupid. He knew the answer.
“Let me be a bit blunt here, okay? You and Rorag were making love. You were aching and lonely because somebody said things that hurt you. Rorag was lonely as well. You found each other and you made love.”
Only his shifting position showed that he rejected the way she said it.
“Listen carefully to my words, Kunag. I didn’t say ‘sex’ – that’s something entirely different. I said ‘love’. You cuddled. You helped each other feel better and you did it with your bodies. That is love and no matter what anybody says, here or on DJar, love is not wrong. It cannot be. It’s all people have. It was hate that caused all this hurt, not love.”
The discomfort was still with him but he didn’t try to deny what she’d said. Of course, it was entirely possible that he hadn’t told her everything yet.
“And even if you and Rorag did more than just cuddle, then I still wouldn’t think it was wrong and you could always talk about it to me.”
He didn’t give away what he was thinking. Jema stroked his back a few times. “Frimon is a pretty emotional person, Kunag. I don’t think he would have quietly watched until you were dressed again. I think he’s assuming what he doesn’t know.”
“But he told Rorag and Rorag said he’d never repent. He’d die first.”
“He was also upset, I guess.”
“He meant it!”
The determination of his answer made her cautious. She shouldn’t assume to know Rorag was only saying it. She didn’t know him that well. “I will try and talk to Frimon.”