Refugees

by R. A. Denny

  Tuka emerged from our home carrying a water jug. He rushed to our father’s side. “Cup your hands.”

  My father cupped his hands and Tuka poured the water into them. My father lifted the water to his eyes. They repeated the process. I saw my father looking at Tuka, but he called out again: “My eyes! I can’t see!”

  “Rinse them again,” Tuka urged.

  My father lifted the water to his eyes once again. “Bless you, my son,” he said as he rinsed his eyes for the third time. “May the gods give you the dew of heaven, the fatness of the earth, and plenty of grain and wine.”

  I winced with hurt at the words he spoke to Tuka. Only minutes before I had asked for his blessing and instead he had cursed me. Now here he was blessing Tuka. “Death and life are in the power of the tongue,” Rhabdom had taught me. My father used words carelessly and once he used them, he could not take them back. I did not even know if he knew he was speaking to Tuka instead of me. But it didn’t matter. He had cursed me and blessed Tuka.

  I walked Star over to a rail and tied her there, searching with my eyes for the sack with the jug. I did not see it. Dejected but duty bound, I hurried into the house for a jar of vinegar to help combat the smell. I brought it to Tuka and my father. My father was naked, having stripped off his loin cloth and thrown it aside.

  “Here is vinegar. Let me pour it over you,” I said.

  His mind was focused on his eyes. He kept closing and opening them. I poured the vinegar across my father’s armor laden back. In his helpless state, his anger dissipated, but I knew it would soon return with a vengeance.

  Finally, he blinked his eyes. I knew he could see once again, because he said in a stern tone, “Moshoi, where is our yakama?”

  “Our yakama is safe deep within our cave,” I answered. “That was not our yakama, which is why she sprayed you. She did not know you and you frightened her.”

  “Then whose yakama is it?” he asked, bewildered.

  I could barely stand the smell still emanating from him. I felt nauseous in the heat. I backed away. Tuka had silently backed off and was waiting to be told what to do.

  “Whose yakama is it?” he repeated to me, his rage building once again.

  “It is mine. It was a gift.”

  “A gift?” he screamed. “Who would give you a yakama? Is it a wedding present? Are you getting married?”

  “No, it was a gift from Rhabdom,” I said, from what I hoped was a fairly safe distance.

  “I should have known,” my father said with contempt. “Go.”

  “It was a generous gift for our journey,” I tried to tell him.

  “Go. Get out of my sight. I can see you, but I do not wish to see you,” he muttered as he flung his arm dismissively. He stopped and seemed to consider, then looked up toward Tuka who was waiting quietly. “Tuka bring me some clothes from the house. Your brother will bring you both down into a pit of folly.”

  Tuka quickly ran to the house to follow our father’s instructions. I walked over to Star, a feeling of dread following me. I carefully looked through the packs still on her back. The pack with the precious jug was not there. I had not even started on my journey to save us all and I had already failed. My father was right: I had dug a pit of folly and fallen into it. I hung my head in shame, feeling unworthy of a quest for treasure, let alone one to save the world.

  Tuka returned with Father’s clothing and Father whispered a few words to him before striding off to the house. I watched him as he entered the arch of our home without looking back. I was jarred by the sound of the scraping of rocks as I saw the rounded stone closing off the entrance. My father was sealing us out of our home with the great stone.

  Tuka walked toward me. “Are you ready to get started?” Tuka asked, to my surprise.

  I looked around at the bags still scattered on the ground. “What did he say to you?”

  “Nothing that we have not heard before,” Tuka answered.

  We both stood in silence for a moment.

  “He will watch over mother and the rest of the family,” Tuka said.

  “Yes, of course he will.”

  “And while the others sleep, he will think, and he will be sorry for today.”

  “Not sorry enough to admit it.”

  “You never know,” Tuka mused hopefully.

  Tuka always seemed to look on the bright side of things. But I was quite sure he was mistaken about this. I didn’t say so, but instead moved on to address the problem that loomed over us.

  “He must have broken the jug,” I said, stooping to lift the bag closest to me.

  “No, it is safe,” Tuka replied.

  I looked at him with irritation. Things did not always work out, and Tuka needed to face facts.

  “It was not among the packs still on Star, and it cannot have survived being dashed upon the rocks,” I said.

  “It is safe,” Tuka repeated. “When you went to awaken father, I removed it from the yakama and hid it behind a rock up there,” Tuka explained, pointing up the hill. “I knew he would be angry and I wasn’t taking any chances since you said it was so important.”

  An avalanche of stress slid off me. “Bless you Tuka!” I exclaimed, but not without a touch of bitterness, as my own words echoed in my mind and I realized that was the second time today that Tuka had been blessed.

  We gathered up our supplies, including the safely stored jug, and we started down the rocky slope leading Star behind us. Our journey to Tzoladia had begun.

  Chapter 29

  Mud - Amanki

  Once again, Baskrod, Manhera and I were sailing down the Lanaduk River, which cut through the flat muddy fields past low reed covered banks.

  “I was wearing the cylinder seal so Vlabrez would think that I was an important man. There’s no telling how he would have treated us if he had not thought that I could repay him. He was not a gracious host,” Baskrod explained to me, slipping back into the Webby language.

  He took the seal off his neck and reached out his hand to me to return it from where he sat.

  “Here, Amanki, this belongs to you.”

  “Thanks,” I said as I put it over my neck again, then held it up to inspect it. In addition to the holes on either end, there was a slit along the side, and the cylinder was covered with markings, but none of them made any sense to me.

  “I’d put it someplace not quite so visible if I were you,” Baskrod suggested.

  I carefully tucked the string out of sight under my tunic.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked Baskrod. “You look so much better!”

  “Yes, much better, praise Adon!” said Baskrod with a smile, before turning to Manhera. “And thank you, Manhera. You have been blessed with healing hands and a kind heart. Of course, I also owe my gratitude to my good friends in Kalpok who have been so generous with the gifts from their forest.

  “Kalpok?” I asked. Baskrod had taught me about forests. I had always been fascinated by the thought of a land filled with trees.

  “It is a village deep in the Mesmeringa Forest, far to the west, where I had hoped to be right now, actually. The ways of Adon are mysterious. Yet, if we trust in Him, He will make straight our paths.”

  “What about hospitality to strangers?” Manhera blurted out suddenly and surprisingly vehemently, ignoring our conversation about forests. “In our village, we would have shown weary travelers kindness regardless of who they were or whether they could pay.”

  It took me a moment to realize Manhera was still upset over the incident with Vlabrez. For me, the conversation about the forest had been a welcome escape from the present realities of life.

  Baskrod responded gently, “Yes, Manhera, it should be as you say. But people from the city are not always as welcoming as villagers. They deal with strangers every day, and have often learned to be suspicious from bad experiences. I could tell right away from the way he was dressed with the fringes on his clothing that this man was a transplant from the city. I am sorry to say that you an
d Amanki have much to learn before we reach the capital.”

  “In what kind of place do people pick and choose whether to offer hospitality? Haven’t they been taught simple decency?” Manhera started and then took a deep breath.

  I could tell Manhera wanted to say more, but she suddenly became quiet, obviously making an effort to compose herself. Her anger at Vlabrez seemed incongruent when placed in perspective with the forgiveness she seemed to be willing to offer the mud beasts for their unspeakable evil. Still, somehow it had felt good to see her mad. I was actually disappointed that her anger seemed to pass so quickly.

  I had been enjoying the conversation with Baskrod, which reminded me of the days when my thirst for knowledge of faraway places was for enjoyment and escape rather than survival. I wanted to go back to the simple days in Arvuk when all I had to worry about was harvesting the barley or whether the fish were biting and knowledge was for fun. There were dangers from sickness, accidents, and floods in Arvuk, but at least those were familiar, if unpredictable, dangers. Now my head was spinning from completely unknown dangers appearing from every direction. I wanted to go home, but my home no longer existed.

  We were travelling at a steady pace down the river, past fields of nothing but dried mud. I realized that Baskrod had not really answered my question about the cylinder seal. In fact, he had done very little answering of questions these days, and I had so many questions that my head was bursting. Everything he said brought new questions to mind. I started with the present:

  “Right now, where are we headed?” I asked Baskrod.

  “We are sailing downstream toward the mouth of the Lanaduk River, and from there we will sail out into the Ortaz Sea to reach the great Webby city of Waduk. We will stop in Waduk to obtain information and find better transportation to Tzoladia,” Baskrod said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  “I am a farm boy from a small village and almost everything I know about the world beyond Arvuk, is what you have told me,” I spoke honestly and openly. “So please tell me now, why are we going to Tzoladia? What will we find there that we cannot find here?”

  Manhera turned and gazed steadily at Baskrod. I realized that I had put into words what she wanted to know. We waited for an answer.

  “The world is changing, Amanki. It is no longer safe for you to wait in Arvuk hoping the danger will not find you. Sometimes the best place to hide is right under the belly of the beast. It is time we went toward the danger instead of away from it.”

  “But I thought we were sailing away from the danger,” I lamented.

  “We are,” Baskrod agreed. Sometimes it seemed that he spoke in paradoxes. On lazy fishing days with Baskrod, I had liked to swim down the channels of his thinking to try to understand uncharted paths, but right now I was hungry and tired. I realized suddenly that while Baskrod and Manhera had been eating at the stranger’s table, I had been working in the hot sun. I sullenly began looking through the supplies for something good to eat. I decided it was best to eat first and talk later.

  Manhera moved closer and helped unwrap some bread for me to eat.

  “Thank you, Manhera,” I said, as she retired back to her seat in her quiet, gentle way. I realized how it soothed my spirit just to have her near. She opened a jar with something in it that looked like dried, shredded leaves, and dropped them into some water in another jar that had been sitting in a sunny spot. Earlier, I had seen her place seeds in the jar of water. As I finished the bread, she brought me the jar filled with a warm, gold colored liquid.

  “It’s Mesmeringa tea,” Manhera said, “the envy of kings.” And she laughed her golden laugh, smiling at me with the tea in her outstretched hand. “It will give you strength while you sleep.”

  I felt lost in a sea of curiosity. “This tea,” I began, “you give it to me, yet you call it the envy of kings?” I continued, as I cupped it in my hands and sniffed its inviting aroma, almost afraid to taste it.

  “Yes,” Baskrod interposed. “Kings desire the drink you hold. It is more rare and expensive than gold. The Gliders keep the gifts of their beloved Mesmeringa Forest well-guarded from the outside world. When we reach the cities, it would be wise not to spread the word that our boat carries such riches.”

  Intrigued, I lifted the jar to my mouth and took a sip. It was sweet and had a smooth spice I had never tasted before. Once again, I cupped it in my hands and breathed in the sweet odor, then drank deeply. The taste delighted my tongue and it soothed my throat as it flowed down. No wonder Manhera had called it the envy of kings.

  The experience was so completely fulfilling that it had almost swept away my curiosity about the tea’s origins.

  “Where did you say this came from?” I asked.

  “As I was saying earlier, I happen to be close friends with some of the Gliders of Kalpok, the hidden village in the Mesmeringa Forest,” Baskrod replied. “When I am not fishing on the Lanaduk, I sometimes fish on the Alfon River, which leads to Kalpok.”

  “Who are the Gliders?” I asked, realizing every minute that there was more to this wise fisherman than I had ever dreamed.

  “Their village is built high among giant trees. They are called Gliders because just as you have extra flaps of skin between your toes which allow you to better maneuver in the water, they have extra flaps of skin that stretch between their ankles and their wrists that allow them to maneuver better in the air. They leap into the air and glide from tree to tree. In Tzoladia, you are to meet one of the Gliders. Her name is Brina, and she is about your age.”

  As Baskrod spoke of these wonders, I continued to drink the tea. For the first time since I had left Arvuk, I felt excited about the adventure that lay ahead, yet at the same time I felt very sleepy. Suddenly filled with gratitude, I turned to Manhera, who had been waiting silently nearby.

  “Now that was delicious!” I said. “Thank you.”

  She bowed her head and gave me a gracious smile. I grinned back at her, then smoothed some blankets and lay down in the rounded bottom of the boat. The gentle swaying as we sailed along the river soon lulled me to sleep. It felt as if I were cradled in her smile.

  Chapter 30

  Trees - Brina

  There was so much to be done in preparing for my trip that the next few days just flew by. My whole family helped me with all of my packing, although only I could make some of the decisions about what to bring and what to leave behind. Whatever was left behind, I might never see again, but I also didn’t want to pack too heavily. Whatever I packed would be loaded into bags or barrels and onto the pulley system along which it would travel to the boat dock. There was only so much room on the boat, so we had each been told to limit what we brought. After the boat, I had no picture of where I was going or what I would need.

  I did not want to part with the collection of small carved wooden animals that Papa had made for me. There was a magpie, an owl, a bat, a squirrel, a possum, a boar, a hare, a deer, and lots of songbirds. He had even made a lion. I put all these in a silk bag and tied it with a string, knowing I would treasure the contents forever.

  Papa came into the room where I was crouched on the floor with my bag. I held up the bag toward him. “In this bag are my most prized possessions, next to Eej, that is,” I said with a grin.

  “What is in it?” Papa asked.

  “The wooden animals you carved for me,” I exclaimed.

  Papa smiled. “I’m so glad you like them. I have some other treasures for you to put in that bag.”

  I was suddenly intrigued. Had he made me another carving? I wondered. I waited with anticipation.

  Papa held out a strange looking object that was about the length of one of my fingers, made of a beautiful blue stone, with engravings on its curved sides and a string threaded through the center of it. Since it was stone and not wood, I knew that my Papa probably had not made it.

  “What is it?’ I asked, curious but disappointed that it was not another carved animal.

  “It is a Glider heirloo
m, which has been passed down for many generations. When you were a baby, Baskrod instructed me to give it to you after the new star appears, before you set off on your journey to Tzoladia. I have kept it for you all these years.”

  I took the cylindrical stone in my hand and turned it around and around. “It looks like a necklace,” I said and started to put it around my neck.

  Papa stopped me. ‘I think for now you should not display this. It seems best to keep it hidden until you meet up with Baskrod. He will explain to you about the boy whose back is covered in scales layered like a pinecone that you must find in Tzoladia.”

  “A boy with a back like a pinecone? Papa, your words sound like riddles.”

  I had always been good at solving riddles and learning languages. Papa sometimes made up riddles for me to guess.

  “But, this is not a riddle. According to Baskrod, once you arrive in Tzoladia, it is important for you to find a boy named Moshoi. He is unlike any boy that you have ever met, since he grows scales on his back and on his chin. Hopefully, that boy carries a seal very much like this one.”

  The description of the boy made him sound like a monster. Confused but curious, I studied the blue cylinder in my hands. It had carvings all around it, a hole on each end, and a smaller hole along the side.

  “But what is this for?” I asked, holding it up toward Papa.

  “Baskrod called it a Titilanzur Seal,” Papa said. “I believe it is one of the three seals from the star prophecy.”

  “Titilanzur seal…” I repeated thoughtfully. I had memorized the prophecy of the new star at a very young age, and repeated it for Baskrod often over the years. Three seals guard the land where the hidden treasure lies. Now here was a riddle. I was intrigued.

  “I believe it is best to keep the seal a secret, until you can discuss it with Baskrod.”

  “I will,” I assured him as I untied the bag of treasures and tucked the seal inside. I suddenly realized Papa had his other hand behind his back, which made me very excited, because it meant it might be a present from Papa.