The Winter Boy

by Sally Wiener Grotta

  “Are you trying to be insulting, or are you really that insecure?” She stared at him, as though he were standing naked.

  “Skies! I didn’t mean to…”

  “No! Don’t apologize yet. Listen first, and learn. Even if I never Blessed a boy, I’ll always have whatever I need, for both comfort and sustenance. So, why do you think you had to sign the Agreement today?” The Allesha’s eyes were full of fire, her body suddenly rigid. “It is a symbol of the bond between us; I am your Allesha and you are my First Boy, my Winter Boy. We are responsible to and for each other, until my spirit leaves my body.”

  She closed her eyes and took two deep breaths. In the sudden stillness, he sat rigidly, uncertain what he could say or should do, but knowing something was necessary.

  When she opened her eyes, she asked, “Now, do you have something to say to me?”

  “Yeah, I’m… uh… sorry.” He grimaced. “Sometimes, my mouth rushes ahead faster than my mind.”

  She smiled at him and squeezed his hand firmly before starting to clear the table. That smile again, it was like sunshine breaking over a rain-soaked field, where only dark clouds had hovered seconds before. He welcomed the warmth of her smile, wanting it to go on forever. But she turned her back too soon, taking their plates to the sink.

  “So, did you bring your bow, or do you need to borrow one?”

  She put the leftover food in covered earthen dishes and placed them in the large varnished wood icebox, moving about the kitchen so quickly he had difficulty guessing where she would go, what she would do next.

  “Yeah, I brought my bow. But don’t you have any rifles?” he asked hopefully.

  “Of course we do. However, where’s the adventure or fair play in gunning down wild game? We use rifles for defense or when food is the only purpose of the hunt. But when I want to lose myself in our beautiful mountains, a bow is quieter, more sporting. Don’t you agree?”

  “Sure. I just didn’t want you to think I don’t know how to handle a gun. My village has had them for a few generations, ever since we came into the Peace.” He didn’t bother mentioning that only a handful of Birani had their own rifles, and that the only time he’d shot a gun was when he had sneaked away to the woods with his father’s old smoothbore. Skies! He’d never seen Pa so angry.

  “Yes, of course. So, we’re agreed. We’ll take our bows.”

  She picked up the rest of the cutlery and plates from the table, put them into the sink and quickly wiped down the table and counters. “The Allesha who brought us together wishes to come to our house tonight, to welcome you to The Valley.” She handed him two wooden matches. “Please light the candle in the gatepost lantern to signal her. While you’re out there, please set out our offerings to the spirits.”

  When he returned, she showed him to his room, to unpack and settle in, while she continued to clean the kitchen. “If you’re finished before me, you can come and help. But tonight isn’t for chores. We’ll work that out later.”

  The yellow-painted bedroom was large, with big multi-paned windows on the outer wall that must let in lots of sunshine during the day. As the Chancellor’s son, Ryl was accustomed to comfort, but no one he knew — not even his grandfather with his headman’s privileges — had a room as spacious and richly appointed as this.

  The red maple furniture was substantial but simple, with straight, clean lines. Definitely a man’s room, though with touches of femininity in the bed’s patchwork quilt, the needlework cushions of the armchair, the forest-green linen curtains and the delicately painted bone knobs of the tall chest of drawers. Volumes of various sizes filled a low two-shelf bookcase. Gas lamps were placed on either side of the bed, next to the armchair, on the bureau — more and brighter lights than he’d ever seen in any bedroom. These people must spend time in their bedrooms, he thought, doing things into the night that require lots of illumination. He hoped that included activities other than reading. On one wall, two doors led to a small closet and a bathroom.

  A number of the boys he had met in the Petitioners’ Wing had been confounded by the advanced conveniences of the Battai’s inn baffling. Not Ryl. His village had been converted from candle and oil to gas when Ryl was a child, so he knew how to use the keys on the pipes to turn gas lamp flames up or down. Similarly, he was already familiar with indoor bathrooms having flushing toilets and knew how to use those facilities, too. After all, his father had been the first in their village to build one, though some of their neighbors had warned against malodorous fumes and dirty water fouling the health of the home.

  But the boy’s pride and sense of superiority in his father’s modern ways dissolved when he saw the spacious bathroom attached to this bedroom. Until then, he hadn’t understood the measure of the Alleshi’s great wealth. Both the large porcelain bathtub and the sink had two knobs; when he tested them, one produced icy cold water like at home, while the other pulsed with streams of steaming hot, like the shower at the Battai’s. So much better than heating the water from the kitchen pump in his mother’s iron caldron and then lugging it in that damned wooden bucket. What’s more, even the air was warm, with the heat emanating from a tight rectangular coil of pipes under the small window. Even here, two wall shelves were filled with books, and several gas lamps filled all corners with light. They obviously expected him to spend some time in this bathroom, at least long enough to read.

  Peculiar people, these Alleshi. Though looking about, he had to admit it would be pleasant to just sit in a bathtub like this, with hot water pouring over him. Did every bedroom in The Valley have a bathroom like this? How much more extravagant his Allesha’s must be, if this were what was given a visitor they considered a mere boy.

  The fourth door in his bedroom was locked. Did she sleep beyond, or was it the portal to that inner room the Battai had promised he would share with his Allesha? How could he get her to unlock it? When?

  Damn these women with their rituals and ways, talking and taking their time, driving a man crazy with wondering and wanting.

  He was almost finished unpacking when he heard a light knock at the door. “Our mentor is here. Please come greet her,” his Allesha said through the closed hallway door.

  The two women were seated on the sofa. One of them must have just said something hilarious, because they were shaking with laughter. They stopped abruptly when they saw him.

  “Hey, don’t stop on my account. I like a good joke as much as any man,” he said.

  His Allesha turned to him. “It was nothing. Just silliness between two friends that would take too many words to explain, and then it wouldn’t be funny anymore.”

  Bet they were laughing at me. We’ll see who laughs last.

  His pa’s Allesha got up to greet him. Ryl opened his hands to her in the traditional greeting given an Allesha, expecting her to fill them with hers, as she always had. Instead she put her two hands on his shoulders, pulling him toward her and brushed her lips on his two cheeks. The same gesture as the younger one’s, but how different it felt. Her lips were dry, not soft. Her smell was sweet, rather than fresh and breezy.

  “Blessings on you, boy, and welcome to our Valley. May your Season with your Allesha be joyous and fruitful.”

  “Uh, thanks.”

  “Come, sit with us.” She patted the armchair next to the sofa.

  The younger woman lifted a white porcelain kettle from its candle stand. “May I pour you some tea?”

  “Okay… thanks,” he said.

  “It’s natural for you to feel a bit strange tonight. Don’t let it bother you,” the older Allesha said. “We have some things to discuss, which may help you feel more comfortable. It’s always easier when you know the boundaries and what’s expected. First, however, do you have any questions for me?”

  “Yeah, everyone says I have to name her. How do I do that?”

  “Ah, the giving of names. Actually, you’ll have two names to give, one for me, as well.” She paused to sip her tea, then continued. “To name a thin
g or person properly is to seek to understand and, yes, in some part to possess its essence. But the essence of a thing is so changeable, that the naming of it says as much about the namer as it does about the thing being named.”

  Her words seemed double-edged, as though she had a secret obvious to everyone but him. “How can an essence — the core of a thing — be changeable? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  She held up a small cake. “Name the essence of this.”

  “Food.”

  “True. But to a baker, it might be flour, sugar and water. A Healer might see it as a dual essence: a pleasant sweetness in moderation, but danger in excess.” She took a bite, leaving half. “Now, it could be seen as proof of someone having been here, taking nurturance, leaving only half satisfied or so sated as to need nothing more.” She put the cake down and wiped her fingers on her linen napkin. All the time, she watched him, as though he were a rabbit about to spring her carefully laid snare.

  “So it is in the naming of people. The names you choose for us should have layers of meaning,” the older Allesha continued. “We will change over the next few months because of our relationship with you. Your perceptions of us will evolve, too. Whatever names you give us should fit us today and next week and next year.”

  “That’s stupid. You’ve already got names; I’ll just use those.”

  “What names we have, we have received in relationships which have nothing to do with you or why you have come here. Those that you give us will define a whole new role for us — and for you. It will mark the true beginning of your Season with us.”

  “What if I can’t find the right names?”

  “Then the lessons you want and need the most will remain out of your reach.”

  “That’s not fair!” The boy saw the know-all look the older Allesha gave the younger one. How he hated the way people did that, judging him before he even had a chance to prove them wrong. “So, if I don’t come up with names you approve of by some complicated rules I can’t hope to understand, you’ll refuse to teach me.”

  His pa’s Allesha shot him a warning glance, so like the looks his father sometimes gave him just before the yelling began — or worse, the silence. But Fire and Stones! If she already knows what I’m thinking, all this tiptoeing around is pointless. “No sex, then, is that what you’re saying? So why did I go through all that crap?” He threw his napkin at the table, frustrated by its floating, lofting, soundless fall. Too bad he hadn’t held onto his teacup. That would have made a satisfying crash.

  “Calm down, boy. We will refuse you nothing you need,” the older Allesha said.

  “But you just said…”

  “To reach a level of intimacy with your Allesha and with me, in which we can be effective, you must give something of yourself. Without names, we are nothing to you, only symbols, two of the many Alleshi. Your naming of us will make us flesh-and-blood women.”

  She clasped the young Allesha’s hand. “It’s time for me to go. Thank you for the tea.” Then she turned to the boy. “You will walk me home. I want you to know where to find me.”

  The younger woman embraced them both at the door. She said to the boy, “We’ll leave before dawn tomorrow. Please be sure to close the outer door before you go to sleep. Good night.”

  Now that the moon had risen, the night was bright. With the instinct of a woodsman to blend in, the boy extinguished the lantern he carried, and the woman followed his example. They walked for a few moments in silence. When she spoke, her voice scythed through the cool, soft air, commanding his full attention.

  “You will be coming to my home often,” she said. “Mostly, it will be at prearranged times, although you’ll be welcome in my house any time the outer door is open. But do not wander from this path and do not enter any other building without permission. There are rules to be abided here and never broken.”

  Rules. When weren’t there rules? “Like what?”

  “I’ve already told you the one: Never go into any building other than my home and that of your Allesha. Do not walk off on your own, away from your Allesha’s home, without her permission, and do not deviate from the path you are to take. Do not speak to any other boy in The Valley, until the end of your Season. You may see them about, though almost always with their Alleshi, since you are the only First Boy this winter. Speak only to those Alleshi who address you first. Don’t—”

  “Whoa! How do you expect me to keep track of all these rules of yours?”

  “Simply use common sense, courtesy and respect for privacy whenever you don’t know the right thing to do, and you should have no problems. Ask your Allesha or me if you’re uncertain how to behave.”

  They stopped in front of a two-story wood and stucco house, surrounded by a stone wall. It was taller and took up less land than his Allesha’s, with large evergreen bushes close to the building. The one thing the property had in common with the others he had seen in The Valley was the sense of solid construction and the feeling that the house and garden fit each other.

  “This is my home. My outer door is closed because I’ve been away for the evening. Remember, come when you wish, when that door is open, or set a candle in your Allesha’s signal lantern, if you want me to come to you. I’m giving this Season to you, as much as your Allesha is. The two of us will work hard to make it a good Season for you. But how good it will be, will be up to you.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that.”

  “Someday you will understand it. Goodnight, boy. Go directly home to your Allesha. I’ll see you when you return from your hunt.” She embraced him with her dry mouth on his cheeks and her long bony hands on his shoulders. Then she turned to enter her home.

  Strange woman, he thought, as he retraced his steps along the path to his Allesha. But at least a man can know where he stands with her.

  Chapter 13

  By the time dawn had brushed first light onto The Valley floor, the boy and his Allesha had already hiked up the mountain, far from the paths to the inns and tradegrounds, traveling toward the wilderness above the ungroomed forest between the Northwest and West Inns. They stopped for a cold breakfast at a clearing. As they ate fruit and chicken, he studied her. How different she seemed from the woman who had greeted him the evening before.

  Her auburn hair, which shone with the very colors of the dawn, was woven into long plaits that fell over her shoulders. Somehow, it made her seem young, even vulnerable, yet strong and self-sufficient. The way she had sprinted up the trail, sure-footed and long-legged, in her doeskin pants and boots, she seemed the image of a young woodsman, born to the forest. Now, her soft, beautifully tanned jacket fell open as she ate, and he saw the swelling rhythm of her breath in the tight knit of her tan jersey. How round her breasts were. Not bad at all, his luck in getting a new Allesha, rather than an old one.

  “What about Mari? It’s a good name, don’t you think?” the boy suggested.

  “Why?”

  “Well, it’s pretty, like you.”

  “But was I pretty yesterday? Will I be tomorrow? What do you think? Does it fit?”

  He had no answer that wouldn’t get him in trouble.

  “You’ll find it.”

  They cleaned the site and continued their trek uphill. The way was neither clear nor rough, but pleasantly wild. Tall bare trees scratched a blue sky, with the promise of a crisp, bright day. Light breezes blew the brown leaves in gentle whirls. They walked without talking, as is the way of hunters, climbing steadily upward. By noon, they saw their first fresh signs of long-tail eladar. A small herd had passed that way very recently, headed west. However, the Allesha set her feet toward the north.

  “Hey, you’re going the wrong way,” he corrected her.

  “That’s not the herd we want. It’s already been winnowed.”

  It wasn’t natural, letting a woman lead a hunt, but he wasn’t concerned. When she messed up, he’d take over. They’d not go back empty-handed with him doing the tracking.

  They saw no more sign
s of eladar for the rest of the day — at least none fresh enough to merit following. Before the late afternoon sunset, each of them brought down a some partridges for their dinner. Watching her take aim and strike her prey had been quite a sight. Her arrows flew true at first shot, and her bow arm was strong.

  “Who taught you to hunt?” he asked as they made camp.

  “My father and mother.”

  “Your father and your mother?”

  “Yes. You sound surprised.”

  “Women don’t usually hunt. They’re not built for it.”

  “Oh, really?” She stood apart and mimed a huntress stalking her prey. “We’re lighter, tend to be more graceful, quieter when we walk.” With an almost silent leap, she was by his side again, helping to snap kindling for the fire. “Did you know, in some villages, only women hunt, and men are expected to do the heavier work?”

  “If you say so, but it’s still not right. Yeah, I like it when Lilla comes with me into the woods. But I do the hunting.”

  “What does she do?”

  “Keeps me company for the trek. Then stays and makes the camp, while I get the game. It’s nice to come back to her in a clearing that she’s made our own.”

  The fire built and lit, she popped up again, tousling his hair in a quick, playful swipe. “Well, no one could ever expect me to stay behind when there’s fun to be had.” She spread some leaves and fronds for cushioning under her blankets. “Nor do I expect anyone living under my roof to stand apart when there are chores to be done.” She pointed to an area on the other side of the fire. “That looks like a nice spot for your bedding.”

  He pounded the dry earth with a log, using more energy than necessary for stamping out ground lumps. Damn, he reflected, she not only expects me to help make camp, but she still isn’t sleeping with me.

  “What about Jan. I like that name, don’t you?” he asked. “It’s solid and strong, like you, and pretty, too. What do you think?”