Redamancy

by T D Cloud

  “Scrimshaw,” Jarrett said. When they saw how Khouri was confused, the boy went on. “It’s seal bone. Grandpa would carve it like the old sailors do in winter, and he taught me how to do it a little too. It’s— It’s not good,” he was quick to add, coloring as he looked at the piece in Khouri’s hands. “I’m learning. Grandpa’s is way better—”

  “It’s beautiful,” Khouri told him, meaning every word. “Thank you both,” he said, looking at them each in turn. “I’m… I’m so happy to have met you. I’ll treasure these. For as long as I live.”

  Both kids colored violently at that. Jarrett lost his battle to keep his tears at bay. He let out a loud sniffle, and Heddi was about to hug him when Yula came barreling in, shoving her siblings aside so she could stand front and center, panting like she’d just run a mile.

  “My turn!” she tried to shout, but her voice was as weak as her breathing was labored. The girl pitched forward, propping herself upright with her hands on her knees. Khouri shared a look with Heddi and Jarrett and then laughed into his hand when all they could do was stare at their sister in shock.

  “What were you doing?” Heddi asked, furrowing her brow as she looked Yula over. The young girl’s feet were caked with dirt and sand, the knees of her skirt stained green with grass. “Mama’s gonna give you an earful for ruining your outfit like that!”

  Instead of answering, Yula just lifted her hand up, thrusting it at Khouri. In her small fist was clenched a flower, and Khouri took it quickly before she felt the need to throw it at him. The small flower was still fresh, newly picked if the state of Yula’s clothes were anything to go by.

  “Here,” she wheezed, looking up at Khouri through her heaving breathing. “Couldn’t— find my— dolly.” “Yula, he can’t take that with him!” Heddi chided, looking from the flower back to her sister in quick bursts. “It’ll die before he gets down the road!”

  “Did you just tear that out of the ground?” Jarrett wondered, his crying forgotten in the wake of all of this.

  Yula raised her head and glared at her siblings with watery eyes. “It’s a wave-skimmer!” she wheezed. “It’s perfect!”

  “It is,” Khouri said, cradling the flower in his hand. It was beautiful. The petals were long and drooping, pale blue with bright orange pistils. Speckled along its bloom were spots of silver and white, the few remaining leaves it held a dark, healthy green. He hadn’t come across one before. Where did they grow? “Why is it called a wave-skimmer?” he wondered, looking at the recovered Yula.

  The girl bit her bottom lip. “‘Cause it comes from the water,” she said. “The seeds do. They get carried by the wind, and the ocean takes them away.” She crossed her arms and glared at her siblings. “Just like Khouri!” she said. “And he’ll come back too, so it’s perfect!”

  Khouri felt his chest ache.

  Heddi, on the other hand, sniffed critically. “Doesn’t explain how he’s gonna take that home with him, now does it?” she said, hands on her hips as she eyed the flower critically. “You can’t carry a vase with you, right?”

  “Oh,” Khouri went, blinking a little as he looked away from the flower. “Um. No, I can’t.”

  Yula began to wilt at the words. Khouri looked around quickly, desperate to do something. “Um, but I can… Oh, I know! I have a notebook in my bag,” he said, placing the things on the bed so he could get up. “Give me a second. I’ll go get it, and we can press it so it dries.”

  Yula’s smile immediately turned as bright as the sun, and Khouri quickly opened the door and raced across the hall, digging through his neatly packed bag for the book at the bottom. He’d have to shove everything back in once he was done, but it was worth the disorganization so long as he made sure he could keep Yula’s gift. With the book in hand, he ran back into the kids’ room, falling to his knees beside the bed to use the mattress as a table. The kids peered over his shoulder as he flipped through the book for a blank page.

  The flower would just fit, leaves and all.

  “There we go!” Khouri beamed, closing the book carefully so that the petals would be fanned out once it dried. He pressed down hard, putting his full weight on the book as he looked back at the children. “This way it’ll stay nice and safe while I travel.” If it dried properly, he might even be able to harvest some seeds from it. Could something like that grow in the Duskriven? He had no way of knowing for sure, but it sounded like a fun experiment all the same.

  He expected to see smiles when he turned around to look at the kids. Instead, he was met with watery frowns and trembling bottom lips.

  “Do you- Do you... re-really have t-to go?” Yula asked, her voice shaking pitifully.

  Khouri felt his throat lock up, his lips burning as his eyes fought off tears as well. He nodded his head, swallowing it down to try and be the adult. “Yeah,” he said softly, pulling Yula into his arms for a hug. He looked up and gestured for Heddi and Jarrett to come in for a hug as well. “But I’ll come back, okay? I’ll make Sorin bring me back even if he says no.”

  Their tears quickly soaked through Khouri’s thin shirt, but they nodded despite it. Khouri held them tighter, hiding his face in Heddi’s soft hair. He really didn’t want to go. Couldn’t they… Couldn’t they just stay a little longer?

  But the door opened once more, and a throat cleared, pulling Khouri from his thoughts before he could talk himself into going along with it. He looked up and saw Mastha standing at the threshold. Her expression was sad but strong, and she gave him a look that told him he needed to get going before Sorin dragged him down the road himself.

  “Come on, kids,” Mastha said with a sigh, breaking the kids from their hugging. “Khouri needs to be on his way.”

  “No,” Jarrett cried, and Heddi and Yula were quick to back him up. “We can’t let him go.”

  Mastha rolled her eyes. “You can and you will,” she said tiredly. “Come on, it’s not like he’s never coming back.” She walked into the room, and her eyes fell on the small pile of gifts he’d been giving, her expression softening. “He won’t forget you. So, let’s let him go home now. He needs to see his… prince friend.”

  Khouri colored a little as the kids looked at him for confirmation. They’d been sparse with their excuses when they had told the kids why they needed to leave so abruptly. He should’ve expected them to be a bit more open to the idea once they heard that Navidae needed him. Khouri nodded his head and slowly stood up, untangling himself from the small hands and arms holding him in place.

  “He needs me,” he said simply, patting their heads gently. Yula’s hair was an utter mess, and he stroked it back into place, tucking a few wispy locks behind her small, round ear. “But once I help him, I’ll come back. This isn’t goodbye,” Khouri promised, smiling. “It’s just a… see you later.”

  The arms around him loosened, allowing him to gather up his journal, the rock, and the bone. He wished he had something to give them in return. Something cool and meaningful, a piece of himself that they could keep. But all he had were his clothes, his knives, and his poisons, and he had a feeling Mastha wouldn’t enjoy him sharing any of that with them. So, he smiled. He smiled at Heddi, Jarrett, and Yula and thanked them again for the kindness they had shown him. Heddi wrapped her arms around her brother and sister, and they watched Khouri join Mastha at the door.

  “Got this for you,” she said, handing him his backpack. “Thank you,” he said, taking it from her as the kids sat on

  the bed and consoled each other. He shouldered his bag and let

  Mastha guide him down the stairs and to the door. The day was a little chilly, but he’d be okay. How long would Sorin take in town? It’d been at least an hour, so he probably should expect him to be along in a few minutes if he hadn’t beaten him there already—

  A hand fell to his shoulder, stopping him before he could go outside. Khouri looked up. He balked when he saw Mastha’s tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “Thank you for indulging them like that,” she
said, quickly wiping them away with the corner of her apron. “They don’t have much, but it… it makes me happy to know they have a friend like you to look forward to now.”

  Khouri smiled, his eyes stinging. “They have you,” he said simply. “That’s worth a lot more than anything I can give them.” It was more than he ever had growing up, and he… Well, it was comforting to know that they were able to have what he didn’t. “Thank you so much for—”

  Mastha cut him off with an embrace. She ran her fingers through his hair, and Khouri hugged her tightly, desperate for the contact when he felt like breaking. “Don’t thank me,” she said, pulling away after a few moments. She fixed her hair self- consciously, wiping at her eyes. “Just come back. Bring Sorin with you, kicking and screaming if you have to.”

  Khouri nodded his head, smiling brightly. “I will,” he said, hitching his bag a little higher. It was an easy promise to make.

  “Good,” she breathed, smiling as she put her hands on her hips. She looked past him at the sky, letting out a breath. “You should get going. Sorrie won’t like it if he has to come back here for you.”

  “Yeah, I don’t want to have to hear it from him,” Khouri said, turning to make his way down the steps. He paused at the bottom, looking over his shoulder at Mastha. “...See you later?” he tried, smiling despite the pain.

  Mastha rested her hip on the door frame, returning his smile easily. “See you later, Khouri,” she said, shooing him off with her fingers. “Good luck with my brother. God knows you’ll need it.”

  Khouri left laughing, which was better than leaving crying.

  Leaving the house like this, leaving at all… It wasn’t ideal. It wasn’t what he wanted to do. But it had to be done. Khouri told himself not to look back, and he stuck to it. He made his way down the winding path and through the trails that marked this place as inhabited. The ocean sang softly to him, growing louder the closer he got to the hill where he’d first set eyes on its vast blue expanse.

  There was no one waiting for him at the top. Sorin must still be in town.

  Khouri worried his lip with his teeth, feeling a bit empty.

  The wind that came off the waters was a little chilly, and every step he took away from Mastha and the kids made him ache for warmth. He looked down at the ocean then slowly turned himself towards it. Sorin wasn’t up there yet, and he didn’t feel at all like sitting up there alone until he got back from town.

  The hill could wait a little longer for him. He had one more goodbye to give before he left this place entirely.

  It was a gloomy day on the beach. Khouri toed off his boots before he stepped onto the sand, taking in how different it looked as summer gave up its last breath. The sky was gray, but the waters were still so blue. He moved towards the surf and sat himself down at the water’s edge, wondering how the day knew to be maudlin just because he felt it too.

  When would Khouri see this sight again? He clenched his hands in the damp sand, burying them deep as if he could stay there forever if only he dug deep enough. The salt air pricked his eyes. Khouri blinked rapidly, pretending it was just the breeze making him cry. He wrapped his arms around his legs and held himself tightly.

  It wasn’t five months. He supposed he should be grateful he’d been given this much.

  Something smooth bumped his toes as he buried them deeper into the sand. Khouri blinked, wiggling his toes until the familiar shape of a shell poked its way free from its grave. He dusted off the sand clinging to it, his eyes widening when he saw the strange color it held. This was an odd one, wasn’t it? A deep, deep red, cut through with soft cream. He hadn’t seen this kind of shell before. Was it special?

  Khouri stood and moved to the water’s edge, rinsing the round shell until it glistened. It kind of reminded Khouri of Navidae’s hair. That strange rusty red. He turned his eyes to the sand, looking for more. If he could find a few more, maybe he could make a bracelet for Navidae.

  The hunt kept him occupied for a while, and for that, Khouri was thankful. These weird red shells only seemed to be beneath the sand, washed up and buried from a storm long since passed. Khouri built a growing pile of them, digging little holes at regular intervals, pockmarking the beach until he had gathered a dozen or so. Sand stuck to his cheek and fringe when he wiped his brow. He smiled at the little shells. He’d get to share the ocean with Navidae in his own way like this. He just hoped Navidae liked it.

  “Oi!” A voice called out. Khouri perked up, turning towards the hill behind him. Back-lit by the sun, Sorin stood at the top, waving his arm. “Thought we were meeting up here!”

  Oh. Shit. He must have lost track of time during his little shell hunt. Khouri quickly scooped up the pile and stood up. “Give me a minute!” he yelled, rinsing the shells in the ocean before he shoved them into his bag. It would probably soak his spare shirts… eh, that was fine. He’d steal one of Sorin’s to sleep in tonight.

  The last shell tumbled into the bag as Khouri began to jog up the hill. He managed to fasten it just as he reached the top, out of breath and apologetic. “Sorry,” he said between gulps of air. All of that rich food and domestic work hadn’t done him any favors in keeping in shape. Stupid hill. “I wasn’t keeping track of the time.”

  Sorin smiled at him instead of lecturing, batting off the sand sticking to Khouri’s clothes with a gentle hand. “I figured,” he said, pulling away once he deemed Khouri as clean as he was likely to get. “You ready to head out?”

  Khouri bit his lip, the thick, heavy sadness from before settling in his stomach in one fell swoop. “I think so,” he mumbled, holding himself as he stared at the ground. “I said my goodbyes. I don’t think I forgot anything. Did you get everything you needed?”

  A hum. “Got you something too,” Sorin said, tossing a plain brown paper bag at Khouri. “For the road.”

  Khouri caught it with both hands, eyeing Sorin curiously as the man quickly busied himself with the map. “Is this what you went into town for?” he wondered, opening the rolled top to peer inside. His eyes widened when he caught sight of bright orange sticks packed inside. Lifting one from the bag, he saw that it was striped with white spirals. When he held it to his nose, he was surprised to find it smelled like oranges.

  “Needed to get supplies anyway,” Sorin muttered, his shoulders hunched as he hid behind the map. “Figured I might as well get something to cheer you up while I was there.” “Do I eat this?” Khouri asked, sticking out his tongue to touch the tip to the strange orange stick. A burst of sugary sweet orange greeted him before Sorin could answer, and Khouri quickly wrapped his lips around the stick, laughing around it at the delicious flavor. “It’s so good!”

  Sorin’s laugh was as warm as a summer breeze, offsetting the chill of fall on the horizon. He peered over the top of the map, smiling at Khouri gently. “Those were always a favorite of mine as a kid. Thought you’d like them too.” He lowered the map a little, his smile a little melancholic. “I know you didn’t want to leave like this, but we’ll come back again. Don’t let it get to you much, okay?”

  Khouri pulled the candy from his mouth to stare at the sandy dirt. His hand tightened around the bag in his hand. “Promise?” he whispered, knowing the sea wasn’t in danger of disappearing the moment he showed it his back. He knew it, but he worried anyway.

  Sorin closed the distance between them, holding the map in one hand as he ruffled Khouri’s hair with the other. “I promise,” he said quietly, dipping down to kiss him chastely. He lingered for a moment, and Khouri closed his eyes, savoring the gesture for what it was. He may be leaving this place, but Sorin was still with him. He’d always have that at least.

  When Sorin pulled away, Khouri saw him smile. Khouri furrowed his brow. Sorin laughed.

  “You taste like oranges,” he said, swiping Khouri’s bottom lip with his thumb. “Careful. Eat too many of them and it’ll turn your tongue orange too.”

  Khouri found himself laughing before he knew it. He batted Sorin’s han
d away playfully, content to enjoy what he had over mourning what he didn’t. “You say that like it’ll stop me from eating every single one of these before we get a mile down the road.” He shouldered his bag, the weight not quite as heavy as it had seemed before.

  Sorin rolled his eyes as he shoved the map into his pack. “If you get a stomach ache, that’s on you,” he warned. “Don’t expect me to slow down just because you’re puking orange into the ditch.”

  The tone was light, and the teasing felt like it always did. But beneath it all, Khouri still felt the silent pressure of their departure at his back, leading him forward and away from the softly singing sea behind him. They laughed a little louder; Sorin felt it too, and when he held out his hand, Khouri pretended it was something else as they took those first steps down the road.

  He put the candy in his mouth and hoped it might make him leaving this place a little more sweet than bitter. Navidae was waiting for him, Khouri reminded himself, pulling his cloak tight around his shoulders as a chilly breeze ruffled his hair. He would let that comfort him as the ocean sang its goodbye in the cresting of the tide. Cold as it was, it was comfort all the same.

  And if that wasn’t the epitome of what he was returning to, Khouri didn’t know what was.

  Chapter Seven

  Sorin stood a fair distance inside the tunnel that would take them down into the Duskriven, but Khouri found himself lingering outside. The burst of cold wafting up from the depths could be felt even here, stealing the warmth of the sun from him as greedily as any thief could.

  Just one more step. All he had to do was take one more step, and he’d be back home.

  Khouri scoffed, kneading at his eyes with the meat of his palms. The Duskriven wasn’t home; Navidae was. And he’d missed Navidae a lot. More than enough to make him eager to see him again. Was it pathetic that he couldn’t help but hate how hard it was to make himself willingly descend back into that unwelcoming, loathed cold? There was a war raging inside him, the cold pitted against the warm sunlight bathing his back and shoulders. Who would win? Was it even a fair fight?