by Andrew Elgin
Lisick returned to making swirls on the table again as she considered what Bellis had said. There was, she was sure, a basic truth in there. She just couldn't see how to apply it.
She looked up through her tangle of hair. "Bellis, my dear, I am grateful for your time, your words of wisdom, as well as your delicious food. I apologize again for my earlier outburst. You've given me much to think about. So, doubtless you will be relieved to hear, I need to go away and think about what you said, and leave you to your kitchen."
She drained the last of the juice and was about to leave when Bellis asked, "And when exactly is Gerant going to be back? This is my kitchen, but it would be nice if I knew what I was doing in it."
"Those old records are a mess... . If he finds something he might well lose track of time. I don't know."
"I know he took some food with him," said Bellis. "I should have asked him, shouldn't I? I can't complain and then do nothing." She gave a small shrug of resignation and looked at the food she had been preparing. "Hmmm. In that case, if you would care to eat with me here, it will be hot and clearing up will be easier, plus I won't have to waste any. Not that Pasker would let too much pass him by."
"I would be delighted, Bellis. Thank you." The prospect of company for a meal lifted Lisick's spirits so that a genuine smile came to her face.
Chapter Sixteen
Javin had begun by marking the days on the walls. But, gradually, he had abandoned this practice, not because of an unwillingness to record the passing of time, but because of a growing understanding that doing so was without meaning. He would not be showing the scratches to anyone else, and as a method of recording time, it seemed ridiculous the more he thought of it. The passing of days, at first irritating and endless, consumed with small concerns about food and water, heat and comfort, slowly became smoother as they flowed through him. They did not become a blur of sameness nor of boredom. Indeed, he found that each day was a separate and distinct event which disclosed itself more easily to him as he was willing to let it be disclosed on its own terms. That could not be shown in a scratch mark on a wall. Besides, such marks were either counting up from something or down to something. Counting up made no sense as he had no idea how many days were in a week or month or if they even had such things. And counting down was equally without point, for he had no idea what, or when, such an event would be.
He had begun by wondering what it was that Harmony was going to make happen around him and by looking for such events every day. Sometimes, he thought he saw meaning in some small occurrence, such as the shapes of shadows on the cliff walls. Sometimes, perhaps for days at a time, he felt or saw no such indicators in the world around him.
Gradually, however, he found himself beginning to see the world as it chose to represent itself to him, without his attempts to add layers of meaning to it. By no longer seeking for messages, hidden or overt, he discovered that the world, at least as far as he could travel in a day, was full of interest. He found that he could discover the interactions between water flowing and the patterns of grasses growing further downstream; how the wind and the rocks combined to carve shapes and to channel breezes and carry scents of distant places; the rhythms of the creatures, large and small, by day and by night, who shared his small empire.
He had also begun by sleeping badly, with much tossing and turning, of staring emptily either at the stone ceiling above him, or, wrapped in a blanket, at the few stars and an occasional glimpse of the moon he could see from his doorway. And when he slept, he dipped in and out of dreams of dead people, of sudden unsettling sights of Haven, and of times of unease, of a sense almost of imbalance. He awoke frequently feeling an itch in his mind he could neither identify nor scratch. He yearned to dream his dream again, the dream, the dream of Her. But it eluded him, which fed his sense of irritation on awakening.
As time passed, however, he found that he could sleep more easily. There was greater depth to it, a comfort not evident earlier. Now and then, with no obvious rhythm or cycle, nothing appearing to be the trigger, he caught glimpses of Her again. The length and curve of the eyelash, seen from the side. That slant of cheekbone, almost lyrical in the way it felt to him as it caught just enough light to be evident. The hair, a wonderful richness, of a color which teased the light and was never only one shade. It tumbled and caressed, moved and shone, covered and revealed. Another night the dominant memory would be of the chin and the hint of a smile on the full lips which eased so simply into the beginnings of a laugh, never fully seen, only imagined.
One night, one vision or part-vision, the next, another. Never two the same. Always some new aspect to be seen, cherished, stored in memory and reflected on in the daylight.
At first, he spent a lot of time trying to know what his talent was. He tried to convince himself that there had to be something he was able to do that was 'different'. Recalling Paysa, he tried moving pebbles with his mind. He tried moving water, flowers, anything. But nothing happened. He tried seeing what Torrint was doing, but fell asleep instead. He even tried calling animals, any animals at all, to him. Nothing.
Every day he hoped that something would happen to convince him that he was able to do something. The teasing memories of the hay and the strange vision with the mandria remained just that: memories.
Sometimes he would hear that music again and became more and more convinced that it was something he knew as a child and it was part of his memories, that they were returning to him. But no other memories came, no other sounds, no recall of his early years.
Occasionally, the music was louder, more insistent, but he could never quite 'get' it. It always remained elusive. He couldn't find what it was associated with. It simply 'was'. Just when he thought he knew how it went, the music took a different turn, leaving him frustrated.
Javin came to enjoy the solitude. This was despite the lack of anything significant happening, and despite the fact that he felt he was essentially doing nothing of tangible worth each day. He was, he came to realize, doing something. He was coming to terms with being on Harmony. The silence when the music wasn't in his head, the stillness, the aloneness, were dragging him closer to the planet in ways he could not really explain. The urge to leave and get back to Haven expired silently at some point and he didn't really know when. The realization grew that here he was free to do whatever he wanted, even if that included doing absolutely nothing at all. It wasn't that he lacked ambition, for he still wanted to know what talent he might have, but that the ultimate aim of each day was to be content. Simply that.
Some days he sat on the step of his cave. Others he took to the cliff tops, following a scrambling path he had found and spent the day exploring, seeing distant vistas, watching the clouds. Sometimes, he just walked the canyons to see what was there.
He realized, as he traveled more, that where he lived was almost directly in the center of the canyons. One path led in, the one he had arrived in, and one path led out. But in between, there were so many winding routes, looping back on themselves, dead ends, paths which brought him up to the tops of the rocks but with no way down again that he could find. It was a place which rewarded exploration.
Without noticing it, without actually acknowledging it, he was feeling his way into being a part of Harmony. He became quieter inside, calmer and less concerned that he had to achieve anything.
One day, sitting in the sunlight at the entrance, he realized that there was a freshness to the air. Summer was dragging herself away and autumn was on the horizon, waiting to make a proper entrance. Now, she was just sending out early messengers in the shape of cool mornings, sharper, clearer air, subtle new shades of color, creating a resonance deep within him that told of a change coming.
On this morning, as he sat, so he soaked in the sounds around, noting them unconsciously, labelling them. Water entering the pond nearby, the rubbing of a tree against a rock as it responded to the breeze, a small animal hunting, the almost silent hiss of the breeze passing over and between the tall
, thin strands of plants decorating the top of the canyon walls. These were the normal sounds of his life here. But then, a new sound. A strange, distant bleating almost and in the background, a creak and a rumble. The latter sounding just like a mandria would when pulling a cart.
He became alert and focused more closely. Yes, there was definitely something coming toward him. It was coming from the opposite direction from where he, Torrint and Banith had come. It would inevitably bring them here, to him, at the heart of the place.
He was unsure of how he felt about it. After being on his own, suddenly it was not his choice to remain that way. He had always assumed that, at some point, he would leave of his own accord and be with others again. But now, that was no longer a choice.
In part, he felt irritated, but another, deeper part of him was eagerly anticipating whoever or whatever was arriving. There was a sense of foreknowing, of an importance as yet unclear attached to this imminent arrival, which held him still and passive, unable to move, unable to meet or to hide from whatever was coming. He sat and he waited as the sounds grew and the hairs on the back of his neck and along his arms flexed and sent shivers through him. And he had no idea why.
Finally, a movement below and to his left. Around one of the larger of the boulders jumbled on the floor, where the stream collected in a small pool before wandering away, a head appeared. It was not anything he expected. It was the head of a large dog. Brown and black and shaggy-coated. Chest high, Javin thought, as it paced slowly into the clearing below. Not just tall, but powerful with deep set eyes in the head. Tasting the air, its black muzzle swinging from side to side, the head turned to point at Javin. Their eyes held each other's gaze for a long, silent moment. The dog ended it with a huffing sound, and made one low, rumbling sound, half-breath, half-bark and looked back over its shoulder.
As it did so, another dog appeared, grey overall, but just as massive. Its ears were pricked and it looked to its companion, seemingly listening to something beyond Javin's ability to hear before turning to face him, tilting its head first one way, then another; judging, deciding, evaluating. Another huffing cough and they both sat keeping him in view but also able to look back the way they had come.
At that point, Javin forced his attention from the two beasts below and became aware that the strange noise he had heard was growing in intensity. It was similar to small stones or rocks grinding against each other, but with overtones of many small voices babbling away. Not a sound he had ever heard before. And then the creators of that noise wandered into sight. Without a doubt, they were the strangest looking animals Javin had yet seen. They seemed to be birds of some kind, for they had long, flowing feathers, or what appeared to be feathers, drooping from their wings and tails. These were mainly a beautiful misty blue but he could see variations shading into pink and yellow, even green, and each with something like an iridescence which made them seem to shimmer. He realized that he had seen something similar to these. Tarla had wanted one from Torrint's wagon, he recalled. And here was a flock of the creatures. Their name eluded him, however.
Apart from the feathers, the legs were bright yellow, the same color as the yellow dot on the side of each wide beak. They walked, or waddled rather, with a rolling gait, heads nodding from side to side as if in acknowledgement and continual recognition of their companions.
Seeing the pool, they made slight honking sounds and stretched their necks to sip and drink before spreading out and settling down, the sounds dying down to a background mumbling and grumbling.
Finally, a wagon, hauled by a mandria, came into sight. Leading it was a figure in a long cloak with the hood up against the breeze. Finding a suitably level place, they came to a halt. The dogs had not moved and the person turned to them momentarily before swinging around to search out Javin. He could not see the features, hidden in the shadows of the hood, but he was aware that he was being stared at. Finally, the hood was thrown back and the face of a young woman was made clear, the distance making any detailed observation impossible.
She called up to him, "I won't be here but for a day or so. Let them get some rest before I move on again, if that's acceptable to you? Do you mind having company?" Her clear voice carried easily. It took Javin a moment to find his own voice. "Of course not. That will be fine." He had to clear his throat a time or two before the words would carry to her.
"Good! Give me a few moments to get settled and then, maybe we can say hello properly?" And with that, she busied herself with the harness.
Javin felt the prickling and shivers intensify as he watched her. He decided that he ought not to sit and watch but help in some fashion, so he began the descent to the floor of the canyon. By the time he arrived, she had unhitched the mandria and was almost finished tidying something away in the wagon. The mandria rumbled once at Javin before turning to drink.
Now he was at the bottom, Javin realized that the two large dogs, appearing even larger now, had not moved and were still staring at him, mouths agape, tongues lolling. They weren't directly in front of him, being more to one side, but he was aware that he would have to pass uncomfortably close to them. Uncertain what to do, how to act, he remained still and hoped that the woman would provide some assistance at most, or reassurance at least. The prickling grew as he stood there trying to observe her more closely.
At the moment, she was busily engaged in doing something in the rear of the wagon, so her head and face were hidden. Finally satisfied, she drew back and turned to toss her long, red hair away from her face. At which point Javin felt as though he had been punched in the stomach. He felt as if he couldn't breathe nor believe his eyes.
For, as she stood there, half turned away, the profile she showed, the cheekbones in the light, the eyelashes, the lips, the hair: everything was exactly as in his dreams. This was the woman. And she was standing, careless of his amazement and wonder, in front of him.
Chapter Seventeen
The woman paused as she saw Javin's reaction. Her eyes narrowed slightly and a frown of concentration passed briefly before she spoke.
"Why the look? Is something wrong?"
Javin shook his head, trying to shake away how he felt. "No. I'm fine. I - I just haven't had much to eat today and I was a bit too quick coming down here." The part about not eating was true. He had planned to eat later on, but the sounds of her arrival had distracted him. Then he gave a nervous smile, pointing at the impassive dogs. "And then there's these. I'm not quite sure about them, and whether it's safe..."
She flicked a gesture at the dogs at the same time as making a short hissing sound. Immediately, they turned their attention away from Javin and stretched. One of them, the grey one, took to furiously scratching behind one ear. Quickly, they were both sprawled on their sides and appeared to have given themselves up to dozing.
"There," she said. "Better? They are very possessive. But they know when I say things are all right." She peered a little more closely at Javin. "And they are all right, aren't they?"
Javin nodded.
"So that's the dogs dealt with. Now what's the rest of it about?" she prodded.
"I'm fine. Really. I just need to sit for a moment." So saying, Javin slumped down as his knees seemed to be made of water, managing to keep himself sitting upright with one hand behind him. "I'm not used to visitors." He waved his other hand at the animals, at her. "It's - it's a bit of a shock seeing you here. That's all it is."
"A shock. Yes. I can see it is. I apologize. However, if you don't mind, I'd like to have something to eat. You are quite welcome...?"
"Oh! I'm sorry. I'm Javin," he said from his place on the ground, putting out his hand to her
Instead of shaking it (Javin recalled, too late, that Hanlar also had no idea what he was doing), she grabbed it with both of hers and hauled him up to his feet. She was strong, Javin realized. He found himself being regarded quizzically by two serious blue eyes, startling against the slightly tanned complexion which was almost hiding the freckles, and which was frame
d by her dark red hair.
She dropped his hand and took a half-step back, as if to get a better view. "Javin? Unusual name." After another short, expectant pause, she gave an almost imperceptible shrug and then touched her forehead with the first two fingers of her right hand then turned the hand so that her palm faced Javin, just as he had seen Torrint do. "Meldren Harnatta." She looked to Javin for his response. As ever, unsure of how to respond, he simply bowed his head. "Pleased to meet you, Meldren." He had no idea what to do with his hands.
It was obvious that Meldren found his response lacking in something, for she pursed her lips in brief disapproval. "Where are you from, Javin of no name?"
"Oh! It's Javin Sarnum. That's my full name. At least, that's what I think I remember it is. I'm sorry, I don't know the greeting you use," and he made a half-hearted attempt at the gesture she had made.
That obviously intrigued Meldren. "You're not sure of your own name, or how to greet someone? Is that true? Of course it is," she answered herself quickly, and added, almost as an aside, "Hmmm. That might explain things."
Javin decided to tell the truth about himself, as far as he could. But he was reluctant to tell her that he had seen her so many times before. He was sure it would not be a good thing to do on first acquaintance. "I'm not from here. From Harmony, I mean. I was brought here, kidnapped actually, on Haven. You know? The other planet? And I don't have my memories. Well, not of much before I was kidnapped, that is. So, I'm not really sure of very much, and that includes this thing with touching the forehead. We, that is, I, used to shake hands, like this," and he stuck out his hand again. He realized he sounded as if he was babbling. And, he had to admit, he was. Meldren looked at his hand, then back at him. "You hold my hand and we shake. Like this." Taking her hand, he placed it in his and he gently moved them both up and down, Meldren watching his face all the while. He let go and shrugged. "That's what I do."