The woman who had ordered his entrance had now passed the central pole, returning to her place amongst the rugs directly in front of him and spoke. “I am called Arevu. I am Hafashal, and will speak for the Lora,” she began.
“Aneh has described finding you in… unusual circumstances,” she said, “and we would question you. Do you submit?”
The tone of her question made Michael think that he had little choice, but he responded, “Yes. Of course.”
Arevu looked at Aneh as she went on, “Aneh tells us you may not understand the meaning of our customs, so I will make it clear. In submitting,” she explained turning back to look at Michael, “you agree not only to hear our questions and answer them truthfully, but when we have heard sufficient we will pass judgement and determine your fate.”
She looked at him closely as she then repeated, “Do you submit?”
Michael was breathing heavily now. How have I ended up here? he thought to himself. What is going on? After such a comforting start in this strange place lying in a pleasant meadow, he had since found that a small predator had been eyeing him for lunch, this young woman Aneh – though helpful – wasn’t necessarily friendly, and now a group of fierce looking rulers were going to determine his fate. Based on… what? Answers to questions that he couldn’t possibly know?
A host of other worries hit him, all draining him of energy, and he closed his eyes and sighed as he spoke, “Look, I don’t know where I am. I don’t know how I got here. I have no idea what to do.” He opened his eyes again to look at the woman who had called herself Arevu. “I really don’t have any choice but to submit, do I?”
Arevu looked at a woman who Michael thought looked an older version of Aneh, sat two places to her right, who gave a small nod. At that, she continued in a slightly gentler tone, “We desire only to know the truth and to protect our people. We do not desire to cause you distress. No matter your circumstance,” she said, “you always have choices. And so I must ask you again. Now that I have explained its meaning, do you submit?”
Sighing again, Michael agreed, still not seeing any real option. “Yes, I submit.”
And so the questioning began. What was his name? Where did he come from? Who were the British? Where was England? How did he get here? Why had he come? Were there others who had come with him? Did he know of Aperocalsa? What had he done since he arrived? His face grew warm when they asked about why he had been naked, remembering that the woman to his right had discovered him.
To most questions he had few, if any answers, and Arevu often looked to the woman Michael assumed was Aneh’s mother given their facial similarities, who would nod.
He found it emotionally draining as time after time he would have to remind himself that he was lost in a strange land; that he was virtually helpless here; that he knew nothing. The questioning could have taken hours – Michael had no idea of time’s passing.
Finally, Arevu looked at him and asked, “Who is your mother?”
Stunned, Michael was unable to speak. This was the question that he had asked himself for as long as he could remember, and he had no answer. To say that he didn’t know how he had arrived here was one thing, but to say that he didn’t know his mother… that somehow seemed more fundamental to his being; as if his very right to an existence was being questioned.
Emotionally drained as he already was, he wanted to lash out at this woman who would ask such a cruel question of him. How did she know that this question above all would cause him the most pain? Why would she be so hurtful? But he didn’t have the energy to raise his voice. He didn’t have the capacity for rage. And so instead of anger from his mouth, there came a tear from his eye, as he dropped his gaze to the floor, his reply barely more than a whisper, “I don’t know. I have never known my mother.”
Perhaps sensing that this last question had defeated him, the interrogation ended. At a word from Arevu, Aneh led him from the tent. They walked in silence for a couple of minutes where they arrived at another tent, Aneh ushering him inside. She motioned him to some comfortable looking rugs where he went and sat, and then she turned and left him. He was grateful for the solitude as he could again allow the tears to fall without fear of being seen. I thought you’d be here, he silently pled. As he had sped through the air to the green forest below, he had felt that he had been returning somewhere familiar, and that here he would find his family. Instead, he now realised that he was more lost than ever. Where are you, mother?
CHAPTER FIVE:
Among Friends?
It is easier to be a true friend than to know one. For how can you know whether one who smiles and takes your arm seeks foremost your welfare, or whether he has some other motive? You must know his hopes and dreams. You must know his ambitions and desires. A man may confuse a smile for friendship when its real meaning is that of oppression, or a cry for anger when it is a plea for help. No, friendship is not a simple thing to know.
But to be a friend is no more than a choice. That is why we must each give friendship more often than we are certain to see it, for it is the only way that friendship will increase in the world.
From the Wisdom of Ashael
***
The tears didn’t last long, as Michael had soon pushed thoughts of his mother to the back of his mind, reminding himself that to still be feeling so strongly about his orphaned life was absurd at his age. And so he began to study his surroundings. The rugs on which he was sitting were a mixture of large animal furs, with additional thick fabrics, the materials of which he couldn’t identify. Their colours were softer versions of the autumnal leaves of the forest, and were piled on top of each other. Together they made a soft surface and Michael could imagine being able to sleep in reasonable comfort on them.
The tent was twelve to fifteen feet in diameter, and was held up in the middle with a tall pole, on top of which was a dome-shaped piece of wood, making the very top of the tent rounded rather than pointed. Michael noticed the curved shaping where the tent walls met the ceiling and was mystified, remembering the absence of ropes on the outside, and seeing nothing to hold the tent up or give it shape other than the central beam.
On the far side of the tent was a wooden chest, and in the middle a number of what looked like small pillows surrounded the base of the central pole.
What struck Michael most of all, however, were the animal shapes that were designed into the tent walls. He couldn’t identify the animals – whether that was due to them being different species to those he was familiar with in his own world, or because the tent designs weren’t intended to be exact likenesses he couldn’t tell. But they seemed to be mostly of small animals, perhaps the size and approximate outlines of fox or squirrel-like creatures. One he thought might be the Tils that Aneh had described, mouse-shaped but with ears that looked more like those of a rabbit. The only exception was a larger shape directly opposite the tent entrance that looked clearly like a big longhaired cat.
The most interesting aspect of the shapes, however, was that while from the exterior they were in colours of browns or oranges, from within the tent they served as slightly opaque windows through which he could just make out men and women of all ages walking about their daily business.
He left the tent a couple of times to look at the shapes from the outside, confirming that from the exterior the fabric appeared completely impenetrable, the tent’s interior hidden. It was only from within that they functioned as windows. It fascinated him, and he was still studying the designs when Aneh returned some time later.
She found him inside the tent staring at an image that Michael assumed was some kind of large mouse.
“You are feeling improved?’ she asked.
Michael hadn’t noticed her arrival and was momentarily startled. “What? Oh, hi.”
He looked over at her but quickly returned his gaze to the design. He pointed to it and said, “These are amazing. How do they work?”
“They are made by the Plant and Cloth Weavers, of course,” came
her reply.
Michael looked back at her again, wondering briefly if she would ever answer one of his questions with something he would understand, and noticed that she had a small smile on her face. It was the first time that he had seen her smile since they had met earlier in the day, and Michael liked it. Apart from anything else, her serious demeanour up until now had led him to wonder whether she should be considered a friend – especially since his grilling with the Lora.
It was only now that he noticed that she was also carrying a small basket, “I have brought some food,” she said. “It is late, and you must be hungry”.
At the mention of food Michael suddenly realised that he was, indeed, hungry – very hungry, “Yes I am actually. Thanks,” he said.
They sat down on the rugs, Aneh placing the basket between them. “Please, take what you will,” she said.
She pulled a piece of crusty bread from the basket, followed by a stone pot filled with honey, and prepared her meal. Michael followed suit, but chose some cheese to top his loaf, it being quicker to prepare.
“Do you know what will happen to me? Has a decision been made yet?” he asked, trying to sound casual. Arevu’s words still gave him a feeling of dread. We will pass judgement and determine your fate, she had said. His stomach knotted even as he remembered.
She returned his look with a friendly smile as she replied, “The Lora does not believe that you are presently a risk to us, and so you may stay with us while they consider further.”
Michael was not sure whether to be relieved that he was not considered an immediate threat, or worried that apparently no final decision had been made. But Aneh continued, noting the uncertainty on his face.
“You are a mystery to us, Michael,” she said. “You arrive amongst us as if coming forth from nothing more than air. You know nothing of how you came to be here, and appear ignorant of our customs. Even one from Aperocalsa would not be so unaware of our ways.
“It is certain that you have not deceived us,” she continued, “but until the Lora can account for your presence amongst us they will continue to consider. Our enemies are powerful, and we must be alert to the possibility that you pose a threat to us at some future point, that is perhaps even unknown to yourself.”
Michael was not sure what to make of what she had said, but Aneh was looking at him with her head cocked to one side, studying his face. He guessed that she had tried to sound as reassuring as she could, but there were so many questions for which he wished answers. And the fact that the Lora’s judgement seemed to be an interim one only left him with concern.
“If you have enemies, how can you be so sure that I’ve not lied to you?” he asked. “You said that you were certain I haven’t deceived you, but how can you know?” He didn’t want to raise questions about himself to these people, but he couldn’t understand why they would be so certain of his intentions after a single session of questions, and he wanted to know how reliable their immediate decision had been.
Again Aneh smiled as she replied, “Because our Sooth Weaver has declared it.”
She had said it with finality, as if it should answer his question, but Michael just shook his head. “You know I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”
Now Aneh gave a short laugh. “Yes, it is clear that we are a strange people to you, Michael. And you also are strange to us.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes before she continued, seeming to sense his thoughts. “You are worried that the Lora has not concluded its deliberations of you?” she asked.
Michael nodded, and so Aneh continued, “That is to be expected, but you are not a prisoner amongst us. You are free to leave if you wish. Or you are free to stay.”
He considered her words for a moment. “Well, theoretically I guess leaving is an option,” Michael eventually replied, “But the truth is I wouldn’t have any idea where to go. I don’t have a clue what dangers there are in this place. I’ve looked at the animal shapes in your tent and don’t recognise any of them, and for all I know I’d be killed by one of them within a day. I don’t even know what I could safely eat. So, if I can stay, then I think I have to.”
Aneh’s smile was bigger this time, and Michael noticed a small dimple in her left cheek. “That pleases me,” she said.
She sounded sincere. Michael’s heart finally lifted a little, glad that she was happy he was staying, although it simultaneously baffled him. Why would she be glad that a possibly dangerous stranger was staying?
What’s changed? he wondered.
“If you are to continue with us,” she explained, “the Lora has given permission that I be your guide. If you wish it, I will do my best to explain our customs to you, so that you may feel more comfortable amongst us.”
She waited a moment, perhaps expecting a reply, before she asked, “Are you agreeable to that?”
“Yes, definitely,” he quickly responded, before continuing, “Thank you.”
Aneh’s smile persisted as she reached into the basket, extracting two large fruits.
“Have you seen these before?” she asked.
They were each the size of a large orange, but with a deep red velvety skin, and Michael shook his head.
“Then the first thing I must teach you,” she explained, suddenly looking serious, “is that the hettlesip is the most delicious fruit in all of Aylosia.”
She passed one to him, and Michael watched as she took a large bite into its flesh, closing her eyes and savouring each chew of her mouth. This young woman had seemed very stern and serious when they had first met – after the initial surprise of course – but since the Lora had made its interim decision about him, she seemed much more relaxed, and even comfortable with him. The change in her countenance both pleased and bemused him.
Following her lead, he took a bite into the fruit now held in his hand, his teeth easily tearing through the soft skin and into its tender deep pink flesh. A sweetness instantly demanded the attention of his taste buds, the fruit’s syrupy juices caressing every corner of his mouth. Unconsciously, he copied Aneh in closing his eyes as he ate, trying to determine what the savour most resembled: a hint of strawberry; maybe a sweet apple; or perhaps raspberry. Although there were inferences of each of these, the hettlesip fruit was ultimately unlike anything else he had tasted, and he was disappointed when his feast on the single fruit ended.
As they finished eating, Aneh explained that she had some duties to attend to, but that Michael was free to wander about the camp as he wished. She left a jug of a fruit-flavoured drink before she left, and Michael drank liberally as he realised how parched he was. Again he wondered what had changed; why he had been given freedom to roam their camp when they knew so little about him.
Once his thirst had been quenched, he decided to take a walk about the camp as Aneh had suggested, slowly strolling about so that he could examine the intricate patterns that adorned the dwellings. He was greeted warmly by most people who passed, and he couldn’t help but wonder whether word of his arrival had spread or whether the people were accustomed to unknown faces in their midst. But he was pleased that none stopped him to enter conversation, to clutter his mind with even more questions.
He decided that there were almost two hundred tents in total in the camp, the majority appearing to be the abodes of small families, but a handful had wide tent flaps that were pulled back and Michael watched people work with food, stone, or other materials both foreign and familiar. He was most interested when he saw some people working with a range of plant and tree leaves of all shapes, colours and sizes; his attention drawn to their careful arranging of them. Transfixed, he watched as a middle-aged man appeared to do no more than concentrate, and was stunned when he then picked up what had moments before been a handful of carefully arranged leaves but which now seemed to be a single piece of larger cloth.
How did that happen? he asked himself, blinking in disbelief. Do these people practice some kind of magic?
Despite the events of
the day – none of which could be explained by rational means – he still felt a little silly thinking that magic could be real, and quickly decided that there must be another explanation for what he had seen.
But he had no opportunity to seek any other answers through his observation, because the man, and the others with him, seemed to be packing up for the day. It was only then that Michael noticed that the light was starting to fade. A slight chill that signified the approaching evening was also entering the air.
He had been careful to keep his bearings as he had wandered the camp and so made his way back to his temporary abode easily. Aneh had not returned, and when he entered through the tent flaps and saw again the thick comfortable-looking rugs piled against the wall, he suddenly realised that he was exhausted from the day’s events.
Lying down, he closed his eyes, and was soundly asleep within seconds. He awoke only once during the night, briefly becoming aware that someone had placed a warm rug over him. When he opened his eyes, he could see that there was a faint light emanating from the centre of the tent that was sufficient to confirm his surroundings. But he was soon asleep again, slumbering too deeply for dreams.
It was to the sound of light rainfall that he awoke, the noise of small drops of water being magnified on the roof of the tent. As his eyes crept open, he could see the tent clearly, dawn having broken some time earlier. The sight reminded him of the impossible events of the previous twenty-four hours, and he closed his eyes again as his head went dizzy trying to understand what had happened. Somehow he knew he wasn’t dreaming. The feelings as he had fallen through the air to the meadow; the sunlight as it had warmed his body; even the anxiety while he had been interrogated by the Lora – these had all been too real.
When he again opened his eyes, he was surprised to see Aneh sitting on the chest against the opposite wall. She was looking at him, her head tilted slightly to one side. As soon as she saw recognition touch his eyes, she smiled. “Good morning Michael. You slept well I think?”
Dreams and Shadows (The Aylosian Chronicles Book 1) Page 7