by Kim Fielding
He was so earnest about it that Enitan could almost believe him. He might not have killed anyone, but he’d never amounted to much in the city. He was a rich man’s son, and he liked to fight and fuck. He prided himself on being good at those things. But Minna had been right about one thing— those were skills that hadn’t mattered much to the rest of the world. He hadn’t mattered. Here in the Downs, he could be different. He could find a way to contribute to the community. He could—
But no. The journey had scoured him, broken him, but it hadn’t bettered him. He had no future in the Downs. All that was left to him was making sure Minna paid a price for her actions. Vengeance was his last remaining task.
Danyal must have seen the doubt on Enitan’s face, because he frowned and briefly clasped Enitan’s shoulder. “Give it time. The body isn’t the only part that needs time to heal.”
Enitan stood while everyone said good-bye. He noticed that while Rig exchanged friendly arm clasps with Sar and Kef, he hugged Danyal. But then the visitors were gone, leaving the hut quiet and empty-feeling.
“I’m sorry,” Enitan said finally.
Rig had begun doing something at the table with flour and animal fat. “For what?”
“Chasing them away.”
“You didn’t. It’s happened before, when I’ve had other people healing here. Besides, this will give the village time to get ready for you. You’ll see. By the time you arrive, they’ll have worked themselves into a frenzy. We don’t get new additions often, and it’s always grounds for celebration. You’ll be attacked by nearly every unmarried man and woman there.” He gave a wolfish grin, but Enitan thought his eyes were shadowed by sadness.
Enitan walked to the fireplace and stared at the fire. It was mesmerizing. In the city, it very rarely got cold enough for heat to be necessary, and cooking stoves were fueled with chunks of peat dug from the closer parts of the Reach. There were never dancing flames or sharp pops of sap exploding.
“You should have spent time with Danyal yesterday. Now you’ll have to wait weeks.”
Behind him, Rig sighed. “I can wait. Anyway, Dany… He was the first person I healed after my husband died. It was an enormous relief to discover I was still capable of it. But as I said, Dany was barely grown. We didn’t sleep together, not then. He moved to the village. Soon after he became comfortable there, though, he began returning here every time I needed supplies. That’s when we began sleeping together. We don’t love each other. He feels gratitude toward me, and I think a lot of pity. I’m thankful for a warm body against mine now and then, and I’m glad he doesn’t mind my scars. That’s all.”
Enitan scowled to himself, and it took him a moment to realize why— it was because, in a way, Rig’s story was like his own. Even though Rig had sex only every few weeks and with just one man while Enitan had fucked often and widely, in the end, each of Enitan’s partners had been little more than a momentary warm body. A way to fend off the loneliness for a few hours. That had been mostly Minna’s fault, because whenever he considered getting serious about someone, Minna chased him or her away. But Enitan was to blame as well for letting her do this. He shouldn’t have been so afraid to lose access to the family fortune.
Still frowning, Enitan turned to look at Rig. “You’re a good man. You deserve more than that.”
“I had more than that. I killed it.”
****
Chapter Seven
For several days Enitan practiced walking. A strange concept for a grown man, perhaps, but between the brief bouts of exercise and Rig’s hearty cooking, Enitan felt his wasted muscles gradually rebuild. That was very good; he hated being weak.
One morning he joined Rig in another short jaunt around the clearing. Rig was in a pensive mood but seemed to enjoy pointing out some of the more exotic flora and fauna. “That’s an arrow beetle,” he said, indicating a large yellow bug with green stripes.
“Pretty. But it doesn’t look like an arrow.”
“It’s called that because if it gets you with its pincers, you feel like you’ve been shot by an arrow.”
Enitan stepped back slightly. “Nice.”
“And see those green leaves over there?” Rig pointed between two trees at the edge of the clearing.
“All the leaves are green.”
“The vining thing with really dark leaves shaped like hearts.”
“More pincers?”
Rig chuckled. “No. It’s called stop-wound, and if prepared right, the roots are good for ending bleeding. But if you touch the leaves, you’ll end up with an itchy blistery rash.”
“Is there anything in this place that doesn’t want to hurt me?”
“Me,” Rig answered, smiling gently.
Enitan wanted to embrace him. Instead, he sighed. “Why do you insist on living in such a dangerous place?”
“I told you. I try to save people who fall from the city. Anyway, it’s only a little safer near the village. Less fog, but just as many deadly plants and animals.”
“I don’t mean here, specifically. I mean the Downs in general. Why not wait for a sunny day and leave? Is it impossible to climb to the Reach?”
Rig looked at him with furrowed brow. “Not impossible, no. It’s very steep, but I suppose a determined person could manage it. Assuming the fog didn’t suddenly descend while he was midclimb.” He rumbled the last bit in nearly a growl.
Ignoring the implicit warning, Enitan spread his arms. “Then why doesn’t anyone try it?”
“For the same reason we don’t try to cross the sea on the far side of the Downs. It’s dangerous, and what would be the point? This is our home. What’s in the city or across the sea for us?” Before Enitan could answer, Rig stepped closer and looked him carefully in the eyes. “What’s in the city for you?”
“Revenge.”
Rig jerked his head back as if he’d been hit. Then he set his jaw. “Revenge is a more bitter poison than anything you’ll find in the Downs.”
Enitan knew that. But wasn’t he already consumed by bitterness? He was like the arrow beetle— attractive enough on the outside but capable of producing nothing but pain.
Making an effort to keep his voice even, he asked, “Can I tell you why I’m here? You haven’t asked.”
“It’s considered very rude to ask. It’s just as Dany said— the Downs gives a chance for rebirth. Part of that means forgetting the past.”
“I can’t forget,” Enitan whispered, his throat raw. He realized his hands were clenched tightly enough to hurt, and he slowly uncurled them.
Rig came closer— close enough to touch— and Enitan flinched reflexively. But all that Rig did was settle his heavy hands on Enitan’s shoulders and quietly say, “Tell me if you want to.”
For all Rig knew, Enitan was about to confess to multiple atrocities. But instead of rejecting him, Rig was offering comfort and support, just as he had from the beginning. Enitan couldn’t understand how anyone could have such a quantity of kindness to give, and his eyes stung as he held back stupid tears.
“I was convicted of murdering my father,” Enitan said, then waited for the response.
Rig didn’t look disgusted or upset. In fact, his gaze softened even more. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said.
And then a few salty droplets did escape, because instead of condemning him, Rig was acknowledging his grief. Not another living soul had done so— almost everyone thinking he’d caused that death himself— and until now, Enitan hadn’t realized how much that had hurt.
Enitan cleared his throat and dashed the tears impatiently away with the back of his hand. “I didn’t kill him. I loved my father. Respected him. Although… in a way I am indirectly responsible.”
Rig waited patiently, and Enitan had the impression that he was like a mountain that could wait forever, weathering time and storms with only a few marks to show for it.
“My sister, Minna, was angry at me.” Anger didn’t quite capture the emotion, but was the best he could do. “I wast
ed money and produced nothing; I shamed the family with my fighting and drinking and fucking. She… Ours is an old family. Our name appears in scrolls hundreds of years old. She has this idea that we should be… above everything. Exemplary and impeccable, she used to say. As if we were gilded statues in the Council Hall.”
He could hear her lecturing him, her voice tight and shrill. Could see the look of disgust on her face when he brought home a bedmate or returned bruised and bloody from a fight. He’d largely ignored her. He should have thought about his future. Although he’d never have thought her capable of murder and betrayal, it should have occurred to him that someday Father would die, and Enitan would be at her mercy, financewise. But he’d never been the type to look far beyond the next day.
Rig still clasped his shoulders, lending strength.
“I think the only thing that kept Minna in control was Father’s position on the Council. He had enough public respect to outweigh my misdeeds. But then he announced he was going to retire, and I refused to take his place.”
“Why didn’t she take his place instead?”
Rig’s bird swooped and landed nearby, distracting Enitan. It hopped a few times, scolding them, then flew to a nearby tree. Enitan wondered if the bird was somehow dangerous; Rig hadn’t said.
Enitan sighed. “She wanted to, very badly. But the other Council members wouldn’t have her. She blamed me, said my reputation had poisoned hers. But the truth is, she doesn’t get along well with anyone. Nobody on the Council wanted to work with her.” Enitan had told her so himself, after a particularly nasty round of yelling. He suspected that was the night she’d decided to plot against him.
Suddenly the strength drained from Enitan’s body and— almost unwillingly— he allowed himself to lean against Rig’s solid chest. And Rig, who was surely blessed by the gods, simply embraced him and took Enitan’s weight. He felt so good. Perhaps even his hugs could heal.
“One morning, a servant found my father dead on his bedroom floor,” Enitan said. “He’d been quite healthy the evening before. But there was bloody froth dried around his mouth, and he smelled strongly of mechka flowers.”
“Poison.”
“Just so. And when I was still reeling from that— still trying to come to terms with losing him— Minna found a letter that showed he intended to disinherit me. The secretary said Father had dictated it, and there was Father’s signature.”
Rig held him a bit tighter. “Did your father write that letter?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. He told me sometimes that I was frivolous, but he wasn’t annoyed with it the way Minna was.” In fact, his father had blamed himself for not providing better guidance when Enitan was younger. “I know he loved me. He told me so. And I know Minna was friendly with his secretary and very familiar with Father’s signature.”
“That letter was enough to convict you?”
“Two servants testified against me as well. I don’t know if Minna bribed them or threatened them. I had no alibi. And I had a reputation as a violent man because I enjoyed sparring.” He laughed humorlessly. “My fighting partners were always as eager as I was, and I never seriously injured any of them.”
“But it was enough.”
“Yes. And then the Judge…” His voice broke.
“I know the rest,” Rig said. “No need to say it.”
Which was a good thing, because Enitan couldn’t talk at all for fear of dissolving into sobs. Gods, he was so weak! But Rig was solid against him and very safe, and now he was slowly stroking Enitan’s back.
Enitan closed his eyes and inhaled Rig’s wonderful scent of woodsmoke, stew, and sweat. “I am innocent of murder. But the Judge still condemned me. And… she was right. I’m unredeemable. Not because I’m a murderer, but because I’m… worthless.”
“The Judge is a fool. Look at Dany. He was cast away too, yet he’s become a valuable member of the village. And a good friend. I don’t know you very well yet, but I know you have value.” When Rig sighed, Enitan felt it as if it were his own breath. “I value you.”
Enitan had no idea how to respond to that. Luckily, he was saved from deciding when Rig patted him and addressed him in a loud and cheerful voice. “The Downs isn’t just deadly, you know. It’s also beautiful.”
“Yes. The trees are nice.”
“Not just that.” He paused for a moment. “Do you think you’re up for a bit of a walk?”
That sounded wonderful. “Gods, yes.”
“Good. But let me know if you get tired or your feet start to hurt.”
“I will,” Enitan lied.
“And for the gods’ sake, keep close to me and don’t wander off the trail. I finally got you put back together and I have no intention of doing it again so soon.”
Fine. That much Enitan could do.
The soft ground was springy under his bare feet, and the narrow path provided plenty of things to look at. It didn’t seem possible that the world could contain so many shades of green. But there were also countless shades of brown and splashes of white, yellow, red, and blue from the flowers and insects they passed. At one point a dull gray snake slithered right in front of them, making Enitan jump. But Rig laughed. “Whispersnake. Harmless.”
Venomous reptiles skulked the farmland near the city and sometimes entered the city itself. Each year a few people died from bites. It figured that the only thing in the Downs that wasn’t dangerous was a snake.
They continued to walk for perhaps twenty minutes, and in fact Enitan was beginning to tire. But when they rounded a curve and exited the trees, he stumbled to a halt and gaped.
The ground in front of him was covered in low-growing plants that smelled like honey. They stretched before him for perhaps fifty paces, leading down a gentle slope to an enormous lake. The water extended almost as far as he could see, with a long smudge of trees on the distant bank. The surface of the lake sparkled beneath the thin clouds, and tiny wavelets lapped gently at the shore. It was like a living thing, vital and beautiful.
Not so the city that Enitan had come from. It had been built at the confluence of two rivers that flowed down from the mountains, but by the time they met at the city, they were sluggish and opaque with sediment. Even worse, where the combined waterway exited the city to roll on to the sea, it reeked of garbage and the emissions of thousands of people and animals.
Here, the lake wasn’t the only wonder, because not far from its shore stood a wooden building that dwarfed Rig’s little hut. It was two stories high, with a wide balcony spanning the second floor and facing the water. Both levels had windows flanked by solid-looking shutters.
“This was Ayo’s favorite place,” Rig said, looking out at the lake.
“Your husband?”
“Yes. I think it’s what made living in such isolation bearable for him. We came here every day unless there was fog.”
“I can see why.”
Rig nodded. “We decided to build a house here. Something nicer than the hut. It’s close enough to the Reach to hear when someone falls.” He was silent for a long time, and Enitan thought that was all of the story he was going to get. But then Rig continued. “We’d barely begun the place when Ayo died. And then there didn’t seem to be much point in continuing, but… I had to.”
“You did this all yourself?”
“Not entirely. Dany helped, once he was well enough. It’s how he learned he had the knack for it. He still helps when he comes to visit.”
“But still, it’s such a huge amount of work!” It seemed astounding to Enitan. Superhuman.
“I have time.” Rig shrugged one shoulder. “When there’s nobody to heal and I have enough food, I don’t have much to occupy my time. Except this.”
It also perhaps explained why Rig was so muscular. Moving the structure’s massive beams and heavy boards into place would be a huge task. Not to mention felling the trees from which those components were fashioned.
“I don’t think I’ll ever finish it,” said
Rig. “That’s fine. I don’t need such a grand house anyway. But it keeps me busy and it’s a way for me to honor Ayo’s memory.”
Enitan wasn’t good at this sort of thing, but he knew how much better he’d felt when Rig comforted him earlier that day. So he marched across the sweet-smelling ground and enveloped Rig in a hug. His heart broke a little when Rig whimpered and leaned against him.
It turned out that giving comfort was as nice as getting it.
Eventually they moved apart. “You should rest,” Rig said. “Take a nap here if you like. It’s safe. I want to work for a little while if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.” Enitan turned to look at the lake. It was very inviting. “Could I bathe first? I feel… grimy.” Rig had taken great care to keep Enitan’s body clean during the recovery, and lately Enitan had been able to handle the task himself. But wiping himself with a cloth wasn’t the same as a real bath. His hair felt especially in need of a wash.
“Help yourself. But don’t go in past your knees.”
“Afraid I’ll drown?” Actually, Enitan was a poor swimmer, but Rig didn’t need to know that.
“I hope not, because I can’t swim. Anyway, you’d probably be killed by dragonfish before you drowned.”
Enitan groaned. “Dragonfish?”
“Big. Pretty too, with red and yellow scales and a crest along their backs like a dragon’s.”
“But…?”
“They bite. Their teeth are sharp as daggers and longer than my fingers.” He held up his hand to demonstrate. “The lake’s full of them. The good thing is that although they’d be happy to eat you, we can also eat them. They’re tasty. You’ve had them several times.”
Enitan thought of some of the fish dinners Rig had served. They had always been very good. It was a fair enough situation, he supposed. Whoever was slower or dumber ended up as a meal.
“I’ll stay in the shallows,” he said.
Rig nodded, patted Enitan’s arm, and lumbered off toward the house. Enitan slipped the shirt over his head, leaving him completely naked. He was going to drop it on the ground, but then he realized it could use a rinse. He didn’t have soap, but perhaps letting it dry on the fragrant honey-grass would freshen it.