The Downs

by Kim Fielding

  Here, though… here the trees towered so high that they made Enitan dizzy. They were taller than the highest city houses. Many were so broad that he and Rig together couldn’t have circled their trunks with their arms. The trees— with their deeply wrinkled bark and richly green needlelike foliage— were not planted in straight lines or careful squares, but seemed to have been scattered randomly by a giant’s hand. They stretched as far as he could see. At the base of the trunks, low shrubs in varied shades of green surrounded deep carpets of fallen leaves. High above everything, the sky was soft gray.

  Enitan was so awed that he didn’t realize Rig was standing behind him in the doorway, keeping him from falling down. “Merciful gods,” Enitan whispered.

  “I told you firewood wasn’t a problem.”

  “But… how?”

  “It’s the forest. It’s always been like this.”

  When Enitan was a boy, he’d read a story about the gods creating humans. Back then, the story claimed, there were trees everywhere. The whole world was a forest. But humans multiplied and cut down trees to make room for a city, and they became so convinced of their own cleverness that they forgot to thank the gods. The gods had punished them by sending down a toxic cloud that killed all the trees, leaving nothing but bare earth and the endless grass of the Reach. Vengeance. It was a powerful thing.

  Rig gave Enitan’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Are you going outside? Or standing here until you collapse?”

  “Outside.”

  And with two careful steps, Enitan was outdoors, his feet sinking slightly into the soft ground. But he was still dazed, so Rig took his arm and steered him to a fallen tree. Enitan sat on the log, making sure the shirttail protected his ass from the bark.

  Rig sat beside him and stared up at the sky. “Clouds are getting thicker.” He sounded concerned.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Sometimes they drop lower and the fog settles on the ground. That’s… dangerous.”

  Enitan vaguely remembered Rig mentioning the fog back when Enitan was blind and thought himself held captive by a demon. “Why?”

  “You already know. It’s caustic. The plants can survive it, and the birds and animals burrow for shelter. But if it touches human flesh…” Absently, he rubbed his scarred cheek before turning to look at Enitan. “You were lucky. The day you fell, the clouds were fairly thin, so you weren’t in them for long. That’s why you lived.”

  Enitan didn’t feel especially lucky, but he nodded. “What do you do when the fog comes?”

  “What we all do. We lock ourselves tightly inside our homes until it goes away. It rarely lasts longer than a day or two.” His face turned grim. “Sometimes it comes faster than expected. People die if they can’t make it to shelter in time.”

  Of course the fog wasn’t Minna’s fault, but Enitan blamed her anyway. If she’d minded her own business, he’d never be in a position to be endangered by such an exotic thing. The city never had fog at all, killing or otherwise. And except for the brief few weeks of winter, the sun shone brightly all the time in the city— so much so that in the afternoons, those who could afford to do so took languid naps in shaded rooms. Those who were poor and had to work just suffered, he supposed.

  As if a tiny, bitter seed had sprouted, a thought began in Enitan’s head. “Are the clouds always there?”

  Rig shot him a glance. “Usually. Sometimes they clear for a day or so. But…”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Rig gave Enitan an assessing look.

  A blue bird with a long tail swooped down from a nearby branch, startling Enitan from his thoughts. It landed on the ground nearby, cocked its head at them, and croaked.

  Rig laughed. “Greedy bugger. No crumbs for you today.”

  “Do you feed it?”

  “Sometimes.” Rig’s face colored slightly. “When I have an extra crust. He likes some fruits, too, and loves seeds.”

  Birds in the city were generally ugly and dirty and lived off garbage. Nobody fed them. Enitan wondered if it was this bird’s beauty that attracted Rig, or just the bit of company.

  “Why do you live here alone?” Enitan blurted. “Don’t you miss people?”

  “People from the village come here once a month to bring me food and supplies. They’ll be here any day, in fact. They usually stay at least one night. And those I heal are company.”

  That didn’t add up to much. Fewer than a dozen men and women were banished each year, and if Rig was to be believed, many of those didn’t survive the fall to the Downs. Enitan couldn’t imagine such solitude. In the city, he’d spent most of his waking hours in the company of friends— and many of his sleeping hours as well. On the rare occasions when he found himself alone, all he had to do was walk to Club Bennu or one of the other establishments he frequented. Or take a walk down the street, for that matter. At any hour, early or late, there were people about. And if he got truly desperate, there were always his family’s handful of servants.

  But now he scowled, remembering that some of those servants had helped Minna betray him. They had testified against him, claiming that Enitan and his father had been arguing frequently in the weeks before the death. Two of them said that on the night Father died, they saw Enitan skulking in the kitchen and later in the hallways.

  Maybe there were some advantages in being alone.

  Rig startled him slightly by placing a hand on Enitan’s shoulder. “This is enough of an outing for your first time. Let’s go back inside.”

  Enitan didn’t argue. The brief interlude had exhausted him, and he leaned on Rig’s arm for the walk back.

  Later that evening, a dozing Enitan was awakened by the soft sound of splashing water. The hut was dimly lit, the glowing embers unable to reach the deeply shadowed corners. Rig stood near the fireplace wearing only a breechclout, his broad back to Enitan. He was slowly passing a cloth over one arm. He was truly magnificent, all heavy bones and corded muscles, his skin tinted orange by the glow from the fireplace. His legs reminded Enitan of tree trunks. Yet the way his hair curled at his nape somehow added a bit of vulnerability, reminding Enitan that Rig was only human after all.

  When Rig turned slightly to dip his cloth in a pot, Enitan had to stifle a gasp. The scars weren’t confined to his face. In fact, the entire shoulder and upper arm on that side of his body carried similar marks, as did his thigh and calf.

  He must have sensed Enitan staring, because Rig looked over at him and sighed. “Not pretty, is it?”

  That hadn’t been what Enitan was thinking. “Do they hurt?”

  Apparently surprised by the question, Rig paused. “Not much, not anymore. A lot of the nerves near the surface of my skin were destroyed, which is mostly a good thing. I have to be careful, though. I can cut myself and not feel it.”

  “Will you tell me what happened?”

  “The fog.”

  And that was all, it seemed. Rig turned his back to Enitan and finished bathing, then hung the cloth from a hook and dumped the pot outside the door. Only after he returned the pot to its shelf did he look at Enitan again. “Do you want anything to eat or drink before I go to sleep? Do you need to piss?”

  “No.” Blessedly, Enitan had healed enough that he could walk to the chamber pot and use it unassisted. But Rig insisted on hovering nearby, just in case— which was both endearing and slightly irritating.

  Rig poked at the fireplace and covered the coals with ashes. It was a warm night; they wouldn’t need a fire. He doused the lantern, putting the cabin into absolute dark, found his way to his sleeping mat without mishap, and lay down with a heavy grunt.

  Enitan pictured Rig lying nearly within reach, almost naked, and for once Enitan didn’t fall asleep right away. He listened to Rig’s even breathing and the slight rustle of the nearby trees. A creature called out harshly, making him jump a little.

  “Don’t worry,” Rig said with a chuckle. “It’s just a night sprite calling for a mate.”

  “Nigh
t sprite?”

  “They’re more common near the village, but a few live around here too. They’re about knee-high and covered in scraggly black hair, with mouths full of wicked-looking teeth. But they don’t bother people— except during mating season when they can get pretty noisy.”

  The sprite screeched again. It was a plaintive sound.

  “I’ve never heard of them,” Enitan said.

  “The Downs is full of things you’ve never heard of. Some are harmless, like the nighties. A few of them are wonderful. Merryberries! And Glows in the springtime! But quite a lot of them are dangerous, Enitan. You’ll need to take care.”

  Soon afterward, Rig began to snore quietly. But Enitan remained awake long afterward.

  ****

  Chapter Six

  Three days later, Enitan was sitting on the log in front of the cabin when he heard voices approaching. Rig looked up from the animal he was gutting— apparently, he laid traps for the tasty little creatures— and grinned. “Supplies,” he said. “I hope they brought sugar and flour, because we’re out.”

  For the first time in ages, Enitan gave a thought to how he must look: branded, unshaven, pale, and wearing nothing but Rig’s overlong shirt. Although he’d never previously been hesitant about meeting new people, he was apprehensive now. Perhaps no demons haunted the Downs, but surely not everyone here was as kind and gentle as Rig. The newcomers might see him for what he was— unredeemable.

  It took all of Enitan’s strength and will to stand straight, hands fisted at his sides, chin high.

  Two men and a woman burst into the little clearing. They were chatting merrily, and each back was heavily laden with a bulging bag. One of the men bore an ugly mark on his forehead— the same, Enitan supposed, as he now carried.

  When they spied Enitan, the trio stopped so abruptly that they nearly collided with one another. They gaped. Rig stood, smiling, his hands held before him. “Sorry. I’m a bit too bloody to greet you.”

  “But it looks like a new patient dropped into your hands,” said the marked man. His accent was more like Enitan’s than like Rig’s.

  Rig turned to face Enitan. “May I?” he asked, waving at the others.

  Chin up. “Of course.”

  “Enitan, this is Sar and her husband Kef, and this is Danyal. Everyone, this is Enitan.”

  They exchanged greetings, Enitan’s more subdued than the others. Then the new people carried their bags into the cabin while Rig finished cleaning their dinner. “It’s all right,” he said quietly to Enitan. “None of them are demons either.”

  “Danyal is… like me.”

  “He arrived several years ago. He was barely more than a boy.” He made a low growling noise. “Declaring a youth irredeemable before he even knew who he was. It’s a disgrace.”

  “He’s not—”

  “He’s a good man. Turns out he’s skilled with tools, so when someone in the village needs a house repaired, Danyal does the job. He works hard. Makes sure every home can hold out the fog.”

  Although Rig had explained several times that banished people were welcomed into his community, Enitan still had trouble accepting it. “But he must have been convicted of something awful. What if he’s dangerous?”

  Rig’s gaze was sharp. “Anyone can be dangerous.”

  Enitan didn’t reenter the cabin until Rig accompanied him. The visitors had unpacked their bags, so the shelves now overflowed with food and other supplies. Kef was cooking something in Rig’s biggest pot, while Sar and Danyal sat on the floor, talking quietly.

  Rig handed the meat to Kef and grabbed a bucket. “I’m going to wash up and fetch some water,” he announced.

  Danyal sprang to his feet, grinning widely. “I’ll help.”

  “Um…” Rig cut his eyes quickly in Enitan’s direction. “Not this time, all right?”

  Looking slightly disappointed, Danyal shrugged and sat back down. Still hovering near the open door, Enitan realized that Danyal and Rig were lovers— and that he was jealous. Which was ridiculous on several grounds.

  He was going to urge Rig to take Danyal with him, but Rig left before Enitan could spit out the words. He had never felt so awkward.

  And then he was surprised when Danyal came to his rescue, smiling warmly at him. “I’m sorry, Enitan. We’re overwhelming you.”

  “No, I—”

  “It’s difficult when you haven’t been around anyone for a while. Anyone but Rig. But he’s easy to handle. Please. Come sit with us.” He patted the floor next to him.

  Enitan couldn’t politely refuse. But instead of the floor, he sat stiffly on his sleeping mat, which was several feet away. He arranged the blanket over his lap to keep from flashing the visitors.

  “How long since you arrived?” asked Danyal, which earned him a stern look from Sar.

  “I’m… not sure. I was hurt…”

  Danyal nodded gravely. “You must have caught a lot of fog to have burned so badly.”

  Automatically, Enitan touched his face. Was he as terribly scarred as Rig? He hadn’t thought so. His newly healed skin felt smooth and healthy. “I…”

  “You look fine,” Danyal said kindly. “Rig is good at his art. The only reason I can tell you were burned is that your mark is gone.”

  “What?” His fingers flew to his forehead, but they told him nothing.

  This time, Sar scowled even more fiercely at Danyal. “Of course he didn’t know, Dany. How could he.” She turned to Enitan with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. He’s very direct.”

  Still confused, Enitan shook his head. “My face?”

  “Handsome and unmarked. Not that we consider a brand shameful. My mother has one. But yours is gone.”

  He was rubbing his forehead so hard it began to hurt, so he stopped. Then he looked at Danyal. “Why is yours still there?”

  If Danyal was offended by the question, he didn’t show it. “The skies were clear the day I fell. Lucky for me. Didn’t stop me from being busted up by the fall, but I didn’t burn.”

  Rig had said that occasionally the clouds disappeared for short periods. And if a man could fall from the Reach unscathed by the toxic substance, wouldn’t it also be possible for him to climb up again from the Downs? If the mark had been scoured from that man’s face, couldn’t he return to the city without being noticed? And once he was there… He saw Minna’s face, her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide with shock and fear.

  Danyal interrupted these musings. “Do you want me to go outside, Enitan? I don’t want to upset you.”

  Enitan collected himself. “No. I’m sorry. I’ve just… Things have been so odd lately. So unexpected and out of my control.”

  “I know the feeling. But you’ll get used to this place. It’s nothing at all like the city, but that’s a good thing. I promise you’ll have friends here.” When he smiled, Danyal looked very young. He was pretty too, the mark notwithstanding.

  After that, Enitan remained mostly silent while the others chatted. They didn’t exclude him— sometimes they even paused to explain something— but he had nothing to add to their gossip about life in the village. He tried to imagine living in a place where you knew every living soul, where everyone knew everyone else’s secrets. But he couldn’t.

  After Rig returned, the five of them ate. The food was delicious: a hearty stew full of meat and vegetables, handfuls of small sweet fruit, and fresh bread that had been baked in the village early that morning. Everyone ate a lot, including Enitan. And then there was time for more talk about village life, this time with Rig asking questions about a bewildering number of people.

  It was more activity than Enitan had experienced since he was banished, and he grew weary. Rig noticed and insisted it was time for sleep; Enitan was too exhausted to argue. The floor of the little hut grew crowded when Rig spread out mats for everyone, but the company was friendly and Enitan didn’t mind. With Rig at his side, he fell asleep to the soft sound of whispers.

  He awakened early when the other
s stirred. Rig was poking at the fire while Sar and Kef gathered their few belongings and stuffed them into their bags. Danyal stood at the open door, looking up at the sky. “The clouds are thin and high this morning,” he announced. “Safe for a journey.”

  “It’s never safe,” Rig muttered.

  “Safe enough.”

  Enitan sat up slowly— still quite stiff— and rubbed his eyes. “You’re not staying any longer?”

  Kef surprised him by answering. “No. It’s a bit crowded and we don’t want to interfere with your healing.”

  “It’s all right. You’re not interfering. I’m almost well anyway.” Enitan knew Rig didn’t see his friends often or for long, and he didn’t want Rig deprived of their company on his account.

  Rig glanced over his shoulder. “You still need more rest. Can’t hurry these things.”

  Danyal smiled at Enitan. “When we return for you in a few weeks, we’ll bring you clothes. And a pair of shoes.”

  “Return for me?” Enitan felt as if he were perpetually three steps behind the conversation.

  “To bring you to the village, of course. Hmm, we’ll have to build you a house, but in the meantime any of us would be happy to share. I’d be pleased if you stayed with me.” He shot Enitan a smile that was downright flirty.

  “You want me to go to the village?”

  “Of course,” said several people at once. Not Rig, though. He remained silent.

  “We told you,” Danyal said, pointing to his own forehead. “This doesn’t matter here. Nothing from the past matters.”

  That wasn’t true. Murder mattered, and so did betrayal. But Enitan didn’t say that. “How do you know I’m like you? What if I’m a monster?”

  Danyal crouched so they were eye to eye. “When I lived in the city, I did some very bad things. But falling— I know you think of it as punishment, but it’s not. It’s rebirth. A chance to remake yourself into whoever you want. I like who I became. You can do this too.”