Refugees

by R. A. Denny

  The rain had stopped, and I could feel the sunshine on my skin. I decided this was not a dream, though the words being spoken seemed confusing like those in a dream. At first it seemed strange that Baskrod would give a fictitious name and describe us as slaves, but I was glad to hear that his voice sounded so strong.

  I could picture Manhera silently nodding her head and smiling in her gentle, reserved way. Feeling tired, I decided to still pretend to be asleep and to listen. I wanted to make sure I knew what role Baskrod wanted me to play, so I wouldn't blow the cover he was weaving.

  Naming two of us as slaves would explain Manhera traveling alone with males and would also prevent the stranger from suspecting that we were runaway slaves. It was not unusual for the more well-to-do villagers in Arvuk to own other villagers who were down on their luck for a few years until the slaves earned their right to be free again. Sometimes they tried to run away before serving their full time. I wondered what other details Baskrod would embroider into his story. I knew that the rules of hospitality did not require him to reveal his name or his story to his host until after his needs were met.

  “That was some storm you were caught in,” said the man who called himself Vlabrez. “Thank the great Z it ended before the floods reached our camp. I am not wealthy, but you are welcome to share what I have.”

  Z must be a name for one of the gods of this place. I had never heard the name before.

  “Our greatest need is appropriate clothing for my female slave.” Baskrod answered. “She was swept overboard in the storm. We nearly lost her, but the boy, Amanki was able to save her. I am letting him sleep to regain his strength to continue our voyage. Still, her clothing was lost, so it will need to be replaced.”

  There was a moment of awkward silence. ‘I suppose these particular slaves are more valuable to you alive?” Vlabrez finally said in an oddly conspiratorial tone.

  “Amanki is a domestic slave, but also sails well. Manhera is a valuable slave since she knows some of the healing arts,” Baskrod answered without seeming surprised by the man’s macabre question.

  “I see. My wife should be able to help her. You are most welcome to come to our humble shelter. As I indicated, we have recently arrived, to await the Emperor’s Harvest up river, so what we have is simple, but we can provide you with food and drink. Please be our guest,” Vlabrez answered.

  I had no idea what the man meant by the Emperor’s Harvest, but I decided it was time I quit playing millipede. I started fidgeting around and then opened my eyes and stretched.

  “Ah, the boy awakens,” Baskrod said. “Amanki, be a good slave and stay with the boat while Manhera comes with me to the house,” he said to me in Webby.

  I stood up and joined them, careful to play my part. “Yes sir, forgive me for sleeping so late,” I said as I bowed.

  I was surprised to see Baskrod was standing and looking so much better. His bandages had been removed. Slightly startled, I noticed Vlabrez’ sandaled feet were unwebbed like Baskrod’s. Although the current in the storm had carried us far downstream, I would never have expected to find the unwebbed living along the Lanaduk. In fact, Baskrod was the only unwebbed person I had ever met.

  “I’m feeling much better than I was,” Baskrod announced, “though I am still anxious to be seen by a real physician in the city.

  Vlabrez seemed to accept Baskrod’s explanations. Pazker was openly staring at our feet which, although covered in mud, were still obvious to the boy.

  “Come, you must be hungry,” Vlabrez urged Baskrod again, sweeping his hand toward a makeshift reed house not too far from where we were standing. Pazker, you run ahead to let Mommer know we are coming.”

  The boy hesitated. “Popper,” the little boy said. “Look at those people’s feet, they look like ducks!”

  Vlabrez frowned, “Pazker, those slaves are not…”

  “And our feet look kind of like rabbit’s feet,” Baskrod broke in, wiggling his sandaled toes in the mud.

  The boy giggled but Vlabrez still seemed disgruntled. “Run along, Pazker,” he repeated and pushed on the boy’s back, directing him toward the house.

  The boy glanced down at my feet one more time, snuck a smile at me, and then ran off.

  Baskrod instructed me, “We shouldn’t be long. Make sure the boat is ready for the rest of our journey. I do not want to delay any more than necessary.”

  “Yes sir, it will be ready,” I replied dutifully and turned to walk back toward the boat.

  Suddenly, I noticed that the string with the cylinder seal was no longer dangling around my neck. I reached my hand instinctively to my chest for it, but it was gone.

  “Wait!” I called out to the others. “I…I seem to have lost something,” I said, as I started searching the ground with my eyes in a panic.

  Baskrod turned toward me and frowned. “We have lost many of our supplies, Amanki. Do the best with what you have.”

  As he turned to speak, I noticed for the first time that the cylinder seal was dangling from Baskrod’s neck, partially hidden by his beard. No wonder the stranger had treated him with such deference in spite of his appearance. Having a seal, especially one made from a rare stone, identified him as a wealthy and important man.

  “Yes, sir,” I mumbled and then turned to assess the damage the storm had done. It bothered me not to have the seal safely around my neck and I did not like Vlabrez.

  Chapter 26

  Trees - Brina

  Once we were back home, my parents hugged me and spoke kind words. I headed for my hammock where I fell into another deep sleep.

  I was awakened by the sound of loud whispers. I lay in my hammock and listened.

  “Those cuts don’t look like they came from some branches in a poor landing!” It was my mother’s voice, and she sounded upset.

  “I…I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing,” I heard my little sister Glorna say.

  “But why didn’t you just come straight home?” my mother asked.

  “I…I went gliding with some of the other girls.”

  “Who?”

  “Frutana, Layna, and some others.”

  “Were you racing?”

  “No…I, well, I sort of followed them.”

  “Followed them? Why would you do that?”

  Silence.

  “Let me see your other arm. Glorna, look at those scratches. You must tell me the truth. How did you get this?”

  Glorna started sobbing: “I approached them after the funeral. They are…were…my friends. I just said hello, but they wouldn’t even speak to me. They turned their backs on me. Layna said, ‘Don’t talk to her,’ and they all took off. So I followed them. I couldn’t imagine what I had done.”

  “That still doesn’t explain these cuts,” Mama said.

  “When they landed on a terrace, I landed behind them. I asked Frutana why they all flew away. But she wouldn’t even look at me. So then Layna walked up to me and said, ‘Go away. We don’t want to be seen with you. Your sister was banished.’ ”

  “She said that to you?” my mother said, no longer bothering to hush her raised voice.

  “Mhm. It was awful. Why would she say that about Brina? She’s going on a special journey, right Mama?”

  The silence that followed was devastating, even if it was short.

  “We believe she is being sent on a special journey, yes, Glorna.”

  Another deafening pause of silence followed.

  Then my mother said, “So what happened?”

  “We started arguing and I…I pushed her. So then she pushed me into some branches and they all started hitting me. I tried to get them off of me, but Layna brought out her claws and scratched me. Then they all left me there crying, and Layna called back at me, ‘Banished Brina!’” Glorna dissolved in tears. “She wasn’t banished. I know she wasn’t Mama, Brina isn’t bad!”

  I decided it was time that I got involved. After all, it was my fault that this had happened to Glorna. I swung my legs out of
my hammock and hopped to the floor, then walked into the room where the voices had come from, not sure what I was going to say.

  “Thanks for sticking up for me, Glorna,” I said. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”

  “Let’s get you washed up and get some mesmeringa salve on those cuts right away,” Mama said gently.

  “I’ll get the poultice,” I added, trying to be helpful.

  “I’ll speak to their parents, Glorna,” Mama said as she retrieved a basin of water and some cloths.

  Glorna looked horrified. “No, Mama, please don’t!” she begged. “It'll be worse if they know that I told. Anyway, I pushed Layna first.”

  “Well, we can’t have her pulling out her claws every time somebody pushes her, now can we?”

  “Can’t we just forget about it?” begged Glorna. “You don’t think the council will hear about it, do you?” she said seeming more and more frightened. "Maybe they’ll banish me too!”

  “Nobody in this family is being banished.” Mama said emphatically. “I’m going to have to think about what to do, but we can’t just do nothing.” Mama dipped the cloth in the basin of warm water filled with mesmeringa root and honey, wrung it out, and then gently washed Glorna’s arms with it. After we dabbed the cuts with a dried cloth, I spread soothing mesmeringa balm on Glorna’s cuts, and tied bandages around them.

  “People may say all kinds of things about me when I’m gone,” I said to Glorna. “Will you do something for me please?”

  She looked up at me with those big innocent brown eyes of hers and waited.

  “Just remember me always, the way I am, the way you know me…no matter what you hear. Can you do that? I don’t care what they say, as long as you remember me as I am.”

  Glorna shook her head yes and reached to hug me. I wrapped her in my glides. “I love you,” I said and held her tightly.

  Chapter 27

  Mud - Amanki

  I worked all day in the sweltering heat getting our boat back in order. The good news was that I was easily able to repair the sail by weaving together some reeds that I had cut along the river bank. The bad news was that some of the clay pots had broken and spilled their contents into the water in the bottom of our boat. It appeared Manhera had gathered some strings of strange looking teardrop shaped leaves out of the mud and hung them from some reeds to dry. I wondered if they were ruined. Whatever she had used on Baskrod had apparently worked well so far. As I carefully collected the ones she had saved, I held them up to my nose and breathed in an earthy sweet smell that somehow seemed to invigorate and relax me at the same time. I savored the aroma and then placed the leaves carefully in a bag onboard.

  Searching the muddy field beyond our boat, I found gooey black mud seeping from a hole and recognized it as bitumen, which Baskrod had taught me to use to caulk our reed boat.

  I was actually glad to be left behind to do manual labor on the boat. It gave me time to think. So much had happened in such little time that I did not feel like the same person I had been not so very long ago. Yet oddly, even without my family, my home, the barley fields, all my kinsfolk, and the familiar rhythms of the village life I had known, somehow I was starting to realize that I was still me. I remembered I had felt this way when my father had caught ill and died several years ago. How could he be gone, and yet I could still be me? Yet somehow I had found a way to go on then, as I must do now.

  Wanting to leave the horrors of the last few days behind, I began to wonder about the journey ahead of us, and about my own history. Could it be true that the woman I had believed was my mother all my life was not really my birth mother? To think such a thought so soon after her death almost made me feel like a traitor. Anger and sadness rose up in me. The picture of her horrible murder came rushing back before me, making me feel sick to my stomach, and I redoubled my efforts at cutting reeds as if I were slashing at the man who had killed her.

  My thoughts drifted to the strange woman in the story Manhera told. Were she and the woman who had given me the cylinder seal one and the same? What had she said to me? Something about mysteries and that she knew who I was. I wished I could remember her exact words. And what if she was my birth mother? Was she dead too now? Why had Baskrod kept all of this a secret from me?

  I was so deep in thought that I did not hear the others approaching. Baskrod had returned with Manhera and Vlabrez, but the little boy was not with them this time. Instead several older boys followed, pulling a cart loaded with supplies. Manhera was draped in a simple but clean white robe with red fringes on the edges of cloth. The dress covered only one shoulder and reached half way down her calf. Her auburn hair was neatly braided down her back. Carrying a small sack, Baskrod was wearing a clean, knee length, short sleeved white tunic, with fringe on the bottom, and a wide black and red striped sash about his waist. He still wore the red cap and sported his usual braided white beard. I was relieved to see that the cylinder seal still hung about his neck.

  “Looks like you have accomplished a lot,” Baskrod said to me. “Are we able to continue our journey?”

  “Yes, sir. I have repaired the sail,” I said, pointing to my handiwork, “and caulked the bottom of our boat with bitumen. The fishing net was not damaged,” I added, pointing to the circular cast net I had spread upon the ground, with the lead weights along its border holding it in place. Baskrod had taught me the skill of flinging the net into the air so that it would open fully when it landed on the water and trap the fish underneath. A strong swimmer, I would jump into the water to bring the net into the boat. After the fish were safely ashore, Baskrod and I would sort them. I had spent many hours as a boy sorting fish and untangling Baskrod’s fishing nets while he questioned me about the mysteries of life. Baskrod often taught this way, by asking questions instead of answering them. Sometimes it seemed as if the questions were more important than the answers.

  Vlabrez said to Baskrod, “Are you sure you will not stay the night? We would be honored to have you remain as our guest.”

  “I appreciate your hospitality. But, I am anxious to get back to Tzoladia,” Baskrod said in a tone of authority.

  “We are happy to have served you. Of course, there is no need for payment,” Vlabrez said. His eyes lit up with a hungry look when he mentioned payment, and I could tell that he was a greedy snake of a man. I really did not like him. Still, his boys were helpful in getting the boat back into the river and the supplies loaded on board. They kept sneaking looks at my feet, but these older boys did not say anything. They had lost the frank openness of their younger brother. Although they spoke to each other, they avoided speaking to me at all. I supposed that was natural since they had been told I was Baskrod’s slave.

  I helped Manhera back into the boat by offering her my hand. Just as Baskrod was climbing into the boat, Vlabrez moved close and said, “It has been an honor to assist you. Do not worry about any hardship this may have caused my family.”

  “I will send servants with gifts for you once you have settled in the fertile lands upstream,” Baskrod stated rather formally as he climbed into the boat.

  “Very well, if you insist,” Vlabrez said, and handed him a slab of soft clay, expectantly. “I have admired the blue stone of your seal since we met.”

  Baskrod stared at him, surprisingly coldly.

  “So I will be able to recognize that it is you who has sent me the gifts,” Vlabrez urged, holding the clay in front of Baskrod’s face while leaning into the boat. Two of his boys were holding the sides of the boat to keep us from taking off in that tense moment.

  Baskrod suddenly grabbed the oar closest to him and swung it at Vlabrez, taking him completely by surprise as it struck him, knocking him back. Manhera grabbed a clay beer pot and hit the boy closest to her over the head, and I kicked the boy on the other side in the chest, knocking him back into the water. We started rowing as they tried to splash after us, shouting. As we reached deeper water, it became obvious that they did not know how to swim. I was glad that they were unwebbed
.

  Once we were free of them, except their distant shouting, I asked Baskrod, “What was that about?”

  Baskrod answered, “He was filled with greed. He wanted me to roll the seal across the slab as an identifying mark, but I did not want to reveal what was on the seal.”

  That gave me the perfect moment to finally ask the question that had been on my mind: “And what is on the seal? Why is it so important?” I asked expectantly.

  Chapter 28

  Rocks - Moshoi

  I rushed after my enraged father to try to stop him. As my father heaved another bundle over his shoulder, the frightened yakama turned so its hindquarters were facing him. I stopped dead in my tracks before I could think what to do. The yakama lifted its tail and shot a spray from both sides of its rump which landed squarely in my father’s face.

  “YEOW!” He screamed, covering his eyes with his hands and dropping to the ground.

  I recoiled as the powerful smell filled my nostrils. The yakama began to run away, even with her heavy bundles. I ran after her. She was now loaded heavier on one side than the other, which made it awkward for her to run, so she did not go far. Once near, I approached her slowly, speaking to her gently, “It’s okay, Star. Stay,” as I grabbed her reins.

  “My eyes! I can’t see!” my father cried out. I looked for Tuka, but he had disappeared. My father was bent over, retching and vomiting up the bread he had eaten.