The Tears of Sisme

by Peter Hutchinson

  Of course this was not enough for Caldar, and he led the Tinker to tell them about country after country, journey after journey. Neither of the boys had met anyone like this before. Taccen had been to Suntoren and that was considered a notable voyage for the folk in the Rimber valley. Until recently foreigners were rare in Misaloren, for the Easterleng wasn't on the way to anywhere. So apart from the Tesseri from the high grasslands the youths had rarely seen anyone from beyond the Lake, let alone talked to them.

  The Tinker's words were a revelation. They forgot all about the strangeness of the old man, as they were transported through an immense world they had only vaguely known to exist. There was only one discordant note, which stood out among the wonderful descriptions of peoples and places. They had asked him about the Hamna and about Nyokhen's remark that his family were much further west than usual.

  The Tinker did not reply at once. Then he sighed. "Yes, my young friends, even here in these remote beautiful mountains, human greed and stupidity make themselves felt. So far I've talked about people and countries as if everywhere was as peaceful as the Easterleng, which of course it isn't. It would take too long to describe all the turmoil in the world, but the part that affects the Hamna is easily told. Over the mountains lies the Quezma Republic and it looks as though they're working up to a war with the Empire. You must have heard that much even in Esparan.”

  The boys nodded.

  “Well, the Borogoi who live in the plains beyond the mountains are likely to be the spearhead of any Quezma attack. Their warriors are already getting restive, raiding their neighbours and pushing the nomads from the eastern grasslands into the hills, which means the Hamna have to move away further west and north.”

  “I thought the Hamna weren’t afraid of the Borogoi,” Caldar put in.

  “Afraid? No, they move to give the plains nomads space. These ranges are vast, two hundred leagues across and maybe a thousand leagues in length altogether. But life is fragile here and the nomadic folk who dwell amongst them have a great responsibility. The Hamna take care not to exhaust the natural bounty they rely on."

  "I've never thought of nomads as being 'responsible' for anything," Berin said reflectively. "Responsibility's to do with buildings and cities and people who are in charge of things. I thought the whole point of being a nomad is that you're free to do whatever you like."

  "Doing whatever you like is for children. The Hamna have to pay in many ways for their life in the mountains. Fortunately they’re a wise people and their eyes are open. In the Lake too, d'you think everything comes free? You live a peaceful life. You have enough to eat. You live in friendship and harmony with the people around you. These things aren’t decided by the city council, the 'responsible' people you talked about: they’re paid for in countless lives over many generations. We’re all responsible, not just for our own country, but for the whole world.”

  "But how do people know what they're supposed to do?" Berin asked. "It’s so vague."

  "You’d like your responsibilities all cut and dried, wouldn’t you, Berin," the Tinker replied with a smile. "Don't be impatient. They’ll come along all too soon.”

  After that Caldar, who was uneasy with all this talk about responsibility, persuaded the Tinker to continue his travelogue, even after the cold drove them into the tirot. Coming up to the Rails this summer had seemed a long journey and a great adventure to the fourteen year old. By the time he went to sleep, Caldar's imagination was taking him far beyond the Lake and into all manner of heroic deeds. It said much about his nature, that while he dreamed of heroism and acclaim, he saw no connection with his own recent actions, which he had all but forgotten already.

  The boys took another look at Rasscu before going to bed. His eyes were still closed, but he was breathing normally now and his face looked alive again, almost as if he might wake up at any minute.

  In the morning his eyes were open and reflected his undisguised pleasure when they came over to greet him.

  "He can’t speak yet," the Tinker told them as he entered the tirot, carrying some more wood. "He can hear us, can't you, Rasscu?" The herdsman nodded and smiled. "Now that you're awake, I'll have to start getting some food into you. We'll have you dancing again in no time. Meanwhile," he eyed the boys sternly, "he needs a quiet day, not incessant chatter. Do you think you can restrain yourselves? Because I have a long list of possible jobs you could be doing, including finding more herbs for me."

  "I'll restrain both of us," Berin said firmly, trying not to laugh at the grotesque faces Caldar was pulling behind the Tinker’s back. He succeeded for much of the day, but Caldar managed to slip in and talk to Rasscu a couple of times when no one else was about.

  Two days later a group of Hamna turned up with the cattle to take everything, including Rasscu, back up to the main camp. The boys were mystified how the Tinker had summoned them, but he would not explain, saying that he had answered enough questions for a whole year and they had one or two other surprises in store. He seemed suspiciously amused by the prospect.

  The first surprise arrived during the afternoon. They were out with a party of wood-gatherers, when they saw a group of five people coming up the valley. Four wore brown Hamna robes. The other definitely looked like a stranger, wearing a red cloak, and leading a horse. The new arrivals reached the camp before them, so the youths entered Nyokhen's tirot full of curiosity. Seated beside Patamo at the fire was Jedorje. She laughed gaily at their astonished faces, then stood up and opened her arms to embrace each of them warmly. She wore a colourful embroidered shawl over her brown robe, and with her flaming red hair and bracelets at each wrist, she looked like some exotic bird that had strayed into a sparrow's nest.

  "I wonder who’s more surprised," she said, sitting down gracefully on the rugs again. "You, to see that awful woman again who embarrassed you at Kirpar's farm, or I to hear that you two are up here on holiday among the Hamna, when I know you're supposed to be working down at the Rails."

  "We're not on holiday," Caldar began, then stopped at her wide smile.

  "I've heard, I've heard. The extraordinary lengths you go to, just to escape making cheese." They all began to laugh. "Oh, Caldar, I warned Hamdrim to keep his eye on you. I might as well not have bothered."

  "You're not here because of us are you, Jedorje?" Berin asked, a little worried about how wide the ripples of their escapades might have spread.

  "In part, perhaps, but not because of anything you've done. These mountains are home to me and I spend as much time here as I can. I don't mean here with Nyokhen's family. My father was Reshid Hamna too and I was with my family a little further south, when I heard that the Tinker was here and wanted to talk to me. So I came. We’re a very sociable people and we’ll travel a long way for a good gossip. Don't tell Nyokhen or the Tinker I said that. I think they’d prefer to call it a conference or at least a discussion."

  At that moment the two men entered with Tsandro and a lively conversation in Hamna flew back and forth across the tent. After one straight-faced speech from Nyokhen, Jedorje clapped her hands in delight and giggled unreservedly at the boys. They began to grow uneasy, remembering the Tinker's promise of 'one or two surprises'.

  One by one the others went out until Jedorje was left alone with the boys. This was her chance, she said, to find out everything that had happened to them since they left Kirpar's farm. She was duly astonished over the Sarpil story, smiled at their enthusiasm for the mountains, applauded their cheese-making skills, commiserated at their fruitless search for crystals, and grew quite grave when she heard the full story of the glacier. In short the perfect listener.

  Chapter 8

  When the fighting was over and the enemy had fled, the chieftains heard that Barda Repo was badly wounded. They came quickly to his side. When they saw that he was likely to die, a dispute arose among them over who should take charge of the body and bury it.

  Hearing the argument the Radorpa said, “ Anyone who can find me has my permission to bury me.
” They were silent, not understanding, until one said, “Where are you going, Great Repo? Tell us so that we can follow you and care for you to the last.”

  And he replied, “It is not I who come and go. I remain here always, but few can find me.” Again they were silent and confused. So Barda said further, “Have no fear. As long as the Hamna remain in this land, I will watch over you.”

  From these words many believed that the Radorpa would live for ever as the guardian to his people. Some say that he recovered from his wounds and departed to a distant land to die: others that he went to a secret cave in the mountains where he dwells to this day. Whatever the truth, twice since that day has the spirit of Barda Repo come to the aid of the Hamna at the time of their greatest need.

  When the prophetess Sayar Khimm defeated the Red Shaman, all the people there heard the voice of Barda which came from her mouth and struck fear into the hearts of the enemy.

  And in the year when the Great Cold began, Barda appeared to the chief Papayin in a vision and warned him that all the tribes of the Hamna must gather in the far valley of Tesjim before the second moon of Hep. And when the snows came, they remained in the valley for ten years and were saved.

  from Tales of the Radorpas: Hamna Oral Tradition

  Esparan: Eastern Mountains

  It was mid-evening before they finished their tales. They realised by then that they were very hungry and there was no sign of Patamo or any supper. They were still wondering about it, when Patamo appeared at the tent door and beckoned them all outside into the gathering dark. She led them to the far side of the camp, where there was a large fire burning. Apart from the crackle of the flames, all was quiet until they stepped into the open space past the last tirots. Then a roar of greeting went up from all sides, and they could see that the whole encampment was gathered in the shadows.

  Without pausing Patamo led them forward to a rug piled with cushions, midway to the fire. She indicated that they were to sit down, Jedorje behind the boys. Then she repeated the curious gesture she had made some days before, placing her palms together and inclining them towards each of the boys in turn. On this occasion she bowed her head with the gesture, followed it with a smile and sat down beside Caldar.

  Next came Nyokhen, who repeated her actions and sat next to Berin. And after him the whole camp, adults and children alike, some of whom they recognised and many they did not, stepped forward one after another from the shadows. By the end there was a great ring, seated right around the fire. Someone handed Patamo a bowl from behind and she in turn passed it to Caldar, indicating that he should drink from it.

  "Take a little and pass it to your left," came Jedorje's soft instruction from behind. After one fiery sip, Caldar handed the bowl to Berin, who transfered it to Nyokhen. After a few refills, the bowl completed its long circular journey at Patamo, who stood up with Nyokhen. A few words, and it seemed that the formal part of the evening was over. People crossed the circle to each other, food and drink started to appear as if by magic, and a group of men including the Tinker carried Rasscu forward on his stretcher from the shadow of the nearest hut where he had been resting.

  "Well, my lads," the Tinker said as he came up to them. "You have Nyokhen to thank for this. You have just been adopted as members of Nyokhen's family and you are now Reshid Hamna. Pass me that jug there, Berin. Thank you."

  He took a long pull. "That's better. I didn't get a drink earlier on, not being part of the family circle. You've probably gathered by the way that these good folk are not all Nyokhen's sons and daughters. They're just called family because they live together under his leadership." He snorted. "No one ever invited me to be part of their family, quite the opposite."

  Jedorje laughed behind them, while Nyokhen looked at the Tinker seriously. "Does it concern you, Pithar? You know it would be an honour ….."

  "No, no. Nyokhen. I know what fate awaits new members of your family." He directed an evil smile at the boys, whose pleasure immediately curdled to apprehension.

  There was no time for questions. Food started to arrive in quantities that made conversation almost impossible and drink of all kinds flowed freely. The boys tried to drink as little as possible, still worried by the Tinker's comments. But every few minutes another Hamna would materialise in front of them and with a beaming smile and an obvious gesture invite them to celebrate a toast with him.

  By the end of the meal, they were still coherent, but happily tipsy and fast heading towards the point when they felt they didn't care what awaited them.

  Nyokhen stood up and the circle gradually quietened. As he started to speak in Hamna, the Tinker translated.

  "He's saying that the parents of Hreshin, the girl you saved in the avalanche, wish to put a formal proposition in the presence of the whole family."

  As a Hamna couple came forward and ranged themselves alongside Nyokhen, a cold little feeling began to work its way down Caldar's spine and dispel his beer-induced euphoria.

  "Hreshin's father is saying," the Tinker's voice went on, "that you are both splendid young fellows and how pleased he is that you are now Hamna."

  As the man continued to speak, the Tinker's silence fed Caldar's anxiety, until he could not resist turning and asking in a whisper, "What's he saying now?"

  "Oh, more of the same," his interpreter replied airily. "He's going through the lot, the glacier, Rasscu, the avalanche. Everyone knows already, but they love to hear it told all over again, especially when they've had a few drinks."

  After remaining silent a while longer, the Tinker began translating again. "Ah, now comes the interesting bit . . . he's saying that because you’re now part of the family, he's invoking an old custom . . . among the Hamna, when someone saves another person's life, it places a lifelong obligation on the person saved and on their immediate kin . . . but there’s also a responsibility placed upon the saver to care for the person saved . . . You can see where this is leading, can't you?"

  The Tinker sounded jovial, as if he was thoroughly enjoying the situation. "He says the only correct way to fulfil both sets of obligations is for you to take Hreshin as your wife . . . Just a minute, Caldar, he hasn't finished yet . . . and that because you and Berin are brothers, Berin should marry Hreshin's sister, then everything will be perfectly arranged."

  The boys sat still, completely stunned. It was all too serious to be a joke. When they sneaked a look round at the faces of the Hamna nearby, no one was smiling. Nyokhen spoke again briefly and the Tinker translated.

  "He's asking if anyone knows of a good reason why these marriages should not take place."

  In the ensuing silence, a whole range of emotions flashed through Caldar, rage and self-pity at their betrayal by this scheming old man beside them, panic at the commitment that was being thrust upon them, frustration at his own inability to handle the situation, even a grudging respect for the Hamna and a faint curiosity about his own future. Panic won. He was just starting to get up to say something, anything that would avert this catastrophe, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Jedorje, who gave both the boys a broad wink as she stepped forward beside Nyokhen.

  She spoke firmly to the whole circle for a few moments, then turned and pointed to each of the boys in turn. A long sigh went round the fire, followed by a roar of approval. Then she exchanged more words with Hreshin's father, embraced him and came back to the rug. Everyone sat down except Nyokhen, who said a few more words before returning to Berin's side.

  Under cover of the general hubbub of conversation which had arisen again the boys both turned to Jedorje, the only person who had given them any kind of reassurance during this ordeal, and pleaded for an explanation. It was Nyokhen who told them, his eyes definitely twinkling: like the Tinker, he seemed to be enjoying his evening.

  "Well, my young friends, do not say that I did not warn you. It is fortunate that you are both already promised to Jedorje and that she was here to announce it."

  Once more the boys were plunged into confusion. But th
e Teller's merry laughter made it clear that they had nothing to fear, even as they groped to understand what was happening.

  "I think that's enough, Nyokhen," Jedorje said, "You should tell them the whole story. I can't bear to look at those agonised expressions any longer. M - m - m –married off," she could hardly speak for laughing, "t - t - twice in one night." She collapsed on the cushions, howling with mirth.

  "A betrothed woman shouldn't really behave like that." the Tinker commented smiling, "Come on Nyokhen. I agree, it's time this pair started to enjoy their evening. So tell."

  "It is easily told. Hreshin's father, Kherinte, came to me yesterday with the offer of a marriage between Caldar and his daughter. I think he was only half-serious about it, because he knew that Caldar would be going back to the Lake, even if we did adopt both of you into the family. I have the feeling that Hreshin did some urging herself - girls can be very romantic at ten years old - and Kherinte's feeling of obligation probably made him propose something he was not really happy about.

  So I told him that it would not be a suitable match for either side: circumstances would make marriage or even betrothal almost impossible. He was relieved to hear it, I could see: but there was the remaining slight problem that the whole camp knew about the offer, and it would not do, particularly for his daughter's sake, to reject it immediately. I knew Jedorje was coming, so Kherinte and I devised this plan of saying that you were already promised, which would satisfy everyone including Hreshin. You do not realise yet, Caldar," Nyokhen added, giving the boy a rueful glance, "that satisfying people's feelings is much more difficult than keeping them fed."

  "What you saw tonight," the Tinker took up the story, "was pure play-acting, Everyone knows what really happened, even Hreshin. But they love to see it all acted out and it still preserves Hreshin's dignity."

  "How did I come into this?" Berin asked. "What was that about me marrying Hreshin's sister?"