The Woven End Read online

  “Oh, yes. Oh, oh. I can always use some scratchers. Yes. Okay.” The old man reached for his cane and followed them.

  With assistance, Goram took the scratchers from ama. He secured them in his own coop and returned to speak with ama beyond the children’s hearing. He handed her something, put his old, bony hand on her shoulder, and soon thereafter, embraced her as she wept.

  After his departure, ama approached Sidita and handed her a pouch that clinked and jingled with coins.

  “Take the little ones inside and watch them. Remember not to lift the shroud. Keep that bag safe.” She wiped her eyes and turned to the scratcher coop.

  The children returned to the hut and scattered themselves throughout. Sidita laid the sleeping baby Mora in her cradle. The two younger children could not fight sleepiness away, so Sidita fed them some bread and cheese and put them to bed. Sidita and Tapa remained awake as the Star fall wore on.

  The fallen darkness made it impossible to see anything outside except for the lantern flitting here and there like a deranged star.

  The sense of responsibility, of ama needing her, of the children needing her, of the possibility that her apa remained present and watched her behavior, kept Sidita calm. She had her cry, and now she would be okay. Tapa, however, shuddered with tears, but kept her composure quite well for someone of seven stars. Mutely, she wiped her eyes again and again.

  Sidita inspected the leather pouch from Goram and pulled it open. She counted out seventy trilas into her apron.

  “Gold? He gave us gold?” Tapa asked.

  “I… I guess he did,” Sidita answered, returning them to their place.

  “But, we can't sell things.”

  Sidita nodded. “This is more than ten scratchers are worth. Maybe he just gave it to us because he's kind.”

  “Oh.” Tapa reached out to touch the coins still in Sidita’s lap. “They're pretty. I didn’t know he was rich.”

  The door opened and Ama walked in. The arms of her tunic were torn off and her hair, disheveled. She glanced about the room.

  “Oh, dear. They've fallen asleep.” She bit her lip. “I can't do this on my own. I must have your help. Sidita, run along to old Goram again. I need him to watch the children. He said he would help us… Ropes… Ask him if he has ropes to spare.”

  Free from small children and hindrances, Sidita ran. Lamps rested on the sill of Goram's window, emitting a warm glow from the gray hut. Sidita knocked at its knotted door.

  The old man opened it it to her.

  “Oh, good. I was beside myself worrying that your ama would not take my offer. I want to help. What can I do for you, child?”

  “Ama needs you to watch the children. And… Do you have any ropes?”

  “This I can do.” He reached for his cane at once.

  After helping the ladies take Gova's body outside to the raft, Goram returned to the hut to watch the sleeping children. He settled down on a chair and stared into the dying fire with plaintive eyes.

  Ama had assembled a fair raft of the coop's wood and fastened it together with rusted nails and strips of cloth from her sleeves. It would serve its purpose until apa's soul finished unraveling. She didn’t care if the raft sank to the depths of the Star water after that. Ama used Goram's ropes to tie the body to the raft, saving the longest one to tie to her waist and the raft.

  “Ama, are you going to pull it the whole way?” Tapa asked.

  “It's only a mile, Tapa. With you two to keep me company it will be like a short walk. I need you to make sure that everything remains secure.”

  Sidita felt very grateful that it was dark, and few, if anyone, would see them. She saw a few unraveling processions in her life, but none of them were done in the fashion of this one.

  Usually bodies were laid on a grand looking raft, gilded and encrusted with Tician jewels, and carried on a trotter drawn wagon or men's shoulders. These processions were rare here since there were very few nobles on the island of Bos, but they did happen.

  On her few visits to Tici, Sidita visited stores where they sold the accoutrements for unraveling rituals and processions. They smelled of incense and fragrant wood. Shrouds of many textures and dyes sprawled across the walls like the spectrum from some morbid prism. Some hung from hooks, some were folded and placed on shelves, waiting to be purchased by anyone who could afford them.

  Sidita never saw a poor man's procession, but she imagined it must be much as they did now for apa.

  The poor received no sympathy. She could not recall ever going to anyone's house to offer condolences. A widow might be joined by family, and there certainly was a period of respectful, ritual mourning, but only the wealthy expected and received condolences, and only from their own kind. The poor were alone and without expectation that anyone should visit. The poor were busy people, after all, for they had to work to stay alive, widows had to marry to survive, and no one had time for grief or, worst of all, guests with little to offer besides, “I’m so very sorry.”

  Fellow Alchemines once surrounded Sidita's family, but now their only fellows were Goram and deserted huts. The Triland’s spiritual art was dying, despite the strong superstitions held by the people. The superstitions and traditions were mere shadows of the truth that once governed the people’s hearts and minds.

  Alchemines usually removed to Tici. Tici was a prosperous island of business. On Tici, the king's palace stood tall, and endless opportunities for wealth were available for ambitious or unethical men.

  Others removed themselves to Sakat, a colorful island of art and pleasure where people sang and danced in the streets. Store after store lined the ornately painted avenues with offerings of jewelry, artwork, tapestries, clothes, sweets, musical instruments, and whatever novelty a young girl could fancy.

  Sidita didn’t understand why her family refused to leave. Her parents gave her a Sakatian name, and the stories and imagery of Sakatian life and beauty called to her, but her parents would not have it. They believed the influence of the Named One was stronger there.

  As they approached the end of land, she looked out on the open water, sparkling under the moon with a few dark boats in the distance marring the glitter. She looked up at the sky. Stars were sparse tonight.

  Ama stood still for a long time before she turned around and ordered Tapa and Sidita to stay at the water's edge while she pulled the raft out onto the water. She waded into the darkness up to her waist and took the rope off of her body. She gripped the shroud in her hand and pulled it off.

  She did not have an exceptional voice, but she sang as well as she could,

  “Young Misum, Son of Gal, he was a gentle mister,

  And all the maids did praise him, for he treated them as a sister.

  He took a lovely wife who bore him many sons alive,

  And he taught them, each and every, that the stars were good and right.

  They are the goodness of nature, they are the way to preserve

  The wealth of strength of character and willingless to serve.

  “But, alas, the young Misum met a kreev one ill fated day,

  And thinking of his wife and sons, he fell beneath its bay.

  Not a soul passed by there as he unraveled the whole day long.

  Not a one passed by there as his soul sang his song.

  They are the goodness of nature, they are the way to preserve

  The wealth of strength of character and willingless to serve.

  “Star fall descended, and the farmer's bride, she went to find

  Her lover and life, her heart thundering inside

  Her chest she clutched in despair when she found him half-devoured,

  And there she wept, as she realized her farmer hadn't a shroud.

  They are the goodness of nature, they are the way to preserve

  The wealth of strength of character and willingless to serve.

  “And yet the stars, beaming from above,

  Cared naught of the farmer who the dear girl loved

&
nbsp; Aye, but one soul, the greatest soul, the greatest of them all

  Would not forget, would not betray, Misum, son of Gal.

  Mercifully, his blithe spirit, the Great Soul swept away

  And bestowed it upon Misum's gold haired son, who smiled his first that day.

  In nature is completion, and so the lost are never lost.

  In nature is completion, and its will is right, no matter the cost.”

  Ama walked away without a second look.

  Sidita could not see him clearly, but she saw that he was disfigured. A sob caught in her throat.

  “Ama—”

  “He died bravely, Sidita. He fought the darkness of our alchemine art, and he won because he did not surrender to it. This is all you need to know.”

  Tapa cried and buried her face in Sidita's chest. Sidita, who thought she would cry no more, felt the responsibility lift and the reality take its place as apa floated away into star water. She'd never see him again and, even now, could not see him one last time the way she had known him. She put her young, trembling arms around her sister and wept.

  Chapter Two

  The Bositian economy would take a hard blow during the harvest due to the constellations of drought. Gova's crops were no exception. Gova's family had no money besides old Goram's Trilas, and since women were not allowed to work out of their homes, Cothos being several years from a proper age, they were in trouble and must act quickly before they starved.

  Nearly as poor as they, old Goram had nothing more to offer them. He managed to beg a few trilas a day for himself, but the bag of trilas he gave them was the savings of five stars. It broke his heart to see his only remaining neighbors leave, but he wanted to help them go if it was best.

  “Come with us, Goram. We will find a way together,” ama said as she caressed his bony shoulder.

  "Oh, oh, oh, no, I'm too old to move. I will fall apart like a dead leaf," he said, smiling. “I wish not to be a burden to you. You have your brood to care for.”

  Ama frowned, chastising him with a look.

  She saw that he was decided, and she resigned to it for his gentle soul’s sake.

  “We will write to you. You must write back.”

  “This I can do,” he said, his forefinger pointed upward as he winked a youthful eye.

  “Whatever this farm produces, you may eat freely of it,” she added.

  The tears for apa blended with tears for old Goram. The following morning, ama dressed her children, fed them with cheese and a bit of bread that remained in the otherwise bare cupboard, and prepared for a journey. The children had three burlap sacks to fill with whatever they could stuff in them. As they bustled about, stuffing and packing, Sidita approached ama.

  “Ama, I know of girls who dress as boys to earn money. Might I not do that?”

  Ama smiled and glanced at Sidita as she tied some items into a cloth. “Some do this, and they succeed for a star or two, but usually it is only out of pity that they are not reported. The risk is too great, and our need is too great for even a boy’s provision.”

  “Then where are we going?” Sidita asked.

  “To a foolish mistake,” she murmured. “Our situation leaves us with no other choice but the wrong one. We cannot stay as we are. I know someone who may be the protection we need.”

  “Who?”

  Ama’s jaw fell slack, her face froze. She closed her mouth an came to her senses, forcing a smile. “A friend in Sakat.”

  #

  The family entered Lanalava, the largest city of Bos. A grand city compared to the nearly abandoned community Sidita grew up in, Lanalava was still a brown, dusty, sight with buildings no higher than two stories and little to offer for entertainment or pleasure.

  As they passed through the market, Ama used five trilas to purchase a loaf of bread, ten more to purchase a wheel of cheese, and another ten to purchase enough fresh milk to fill her tin pitcher. She and her children drank the milk immediately so that it would not spoil.

  Forty-five trilas remained.

  “Just enough for passage and a small dinner if we don't succeed,” she mumbled to no one as she handed Tapa the sack containing their day's fare.

  She beckoned to her children and they followed her like sheep after a shepherdess. Tapa came close to Sidita.

  “Passage?” She asked.

  “We are going to another island. We have to take a boat,” Sidita answered.

  “Another island? I don't want to leave. Apa said he built our hut. Do you want to leave the hut apa built?”

  “We are going to Sakat. I want to go. Don't you want to live where you might make friends?”

  The question gave Tapa pause. “But Goram is our friend.”

  "He is, but he is an old man. You can't play house with an old man. Besides that, he can't feed us, and besides that, someone killed apa, and we must do something to survive."

  Tapa said nothing.

  Docks and a motley array of boats made an abrupt end of Lanalava. As they stepped away from the city they stepped out before the star water. To the right, a grassy, tree-graced park was alive with picnics and laughter.

  Ama came to a stand still, examined her boat options, and charged forward to secure a ride. Ama turned away from each boatman, disappointed. After several tries, she quit and returned to her children. She placed her hand on her forehead and the other on her hip. She spluttered a few times and fell into weeping. She crouched down with open arms for her children to come to her and gathered them near to her and squeezed them.

  "We will make it somehow. Apa is still watching over us through Cothos," she said, smiling through her tears as she stroked the little boy's gold hair. "I am sure Cothos has inherited apa's bravery and strength by now. Cothos will be our inspiration. Right, Cothos?" She asked, sitting back on her feet.

  The freckled little boy did not smile.

  “I can offer you passage for twenty trilas,” a deep voice rumbled.

  Ama turned to see who addressed her. The children instinctively gathered close to her, each snatching a fistful of her tunic.

  “What? What did you say?” Ama wiped her eyes and sniffed as she stood to face him.

  He wore a long leather coat over a brown tunic and pants. A wide brimmed leather hat shaded his rugged, thickly bearded face and kind, blue eyes.

  “You!” She recognized him immediately.

  He jerked his head toward the other boatmen.

  “Those bums don't like to give passage to women and children without a male to supervise them, so they deceived you. The highest fee you may find from honest men, unless you set your sights on something grand, is about forty trilas. Just for the heartache I see the fools have caused you, I'm taking my fee down to twenty trilas. My boat is well built, and I’m a blessedly good sailor on any size vessel. I'll have you to Sakat in an hour.”

  "An hour. An hour. I can't believe it," ama said, placing her hand over her mouth.

  "I have arms like tree trunks, and the stamina and strength of a Corsico trotter. I'm the best there is, and if you would have gone down just one more dock, you could have been on your way by now. But, no matter. It's time to row." He walked away at an alarming pace.

  "Children, come. Come." Ama beckoned as she half-ran to catch up to the boatman.

  His boat stood out as a superior vessel to many of the others. It was in good repair, well-used, but cared for, and with plenty of room for all of them.

  “When there's a good wind, I use the sail. Otherwise, I don't bother. I do it right on my own.”

  He helped ama and the children get into the boat.

  “Pretty little girls you've birthed there. What's your name?”

  “Wife of—Melee. My name is Melee, daughter of Oro.”

  “Melee. It's a pleasure to officially meet you,” the boatman said.

  He let the boat loose and pushed off with his oar.

  Sidita requested a seat near the boatman so that she could watch him as he worked. He smelled of fresh air,
leather, something faint and flowery, and soil. She stared at his hands. They were well-worked hands, but not like a farmer’s. She studied his face, his amiable face that never seemed strained or unhappy. The oars were long, the boat of a moderate size that would be difficult for one man, but he was at ease, not smiley, but at ease. She looked away when he noticed her intent stare and winked at her.

  She entered the Sálverøld.

  He was a strange sight, all wine colored with a gold shimmer. She rarely saw souls that color. Though, she hadn’t seen very many souls in her life.

  He must be a very special kind of man, she thought.

  The man interrupted her soul’s pondering when he said, “Are you very afraid?”

  She shook her head.

  “I didn’t think so. You are a courageous one. Life holds many surpises for people like you,” he said, smiling. “The trick is knowing when to be wise instead of courageous.”

  He stood up to make use of the sail.

  #

  True to his word, the boatman docked in Sakat in under an hour. Ama thanked him heartily, grasping at his eyes with her own, but he gave her his eyes only a few times as he docked and helped her children out of his vessel. She counted out twenty trilas and placed them in his thick, calloused hand with a firm, warm squeeze and teary eyes fastened on his star water ones, at last. He looked at the gold in his hand and shook his head.

  "Woman, you must have misheard me. I wanted only ten trilas for my fee."

  "I'm certain you said twenty, I—"

  "Ten," he insisted as he took the leather pouch from her hand and dropped the trilas into it.

  He turned away to tighten the rope he had wrapped around a post as he called over his shoulder, "Welcome to Nidita, capital of Sakat."

  "Thank you," ama said.

  Sidita noticed that the boatman did not pocket any of the money. Instead, he talked to the distracted woman while he drew his empty hand to his bag. The motion of taking a few trilas happened, but Sidita was certain he put everything back in ama’s pouch. She felt it was her duty to speak for the children, and she did so by tapping his shoulder. He turned to look at her and nodded his head.

  “Yes?”