by J P Nelson
Machest comes to an abrupt stop before the man who is squared off in front of him, as if to bar his way. Behind is a large gathering of those lending chase and others on-looking for the sake of curiosity and amusement.
Soaked in wine, covered in remnants of fruit and utterly soiled with sweat and dirt, Machest is still brandishing his cleaver as he looks with exasperation past the blurred visage of he who stands before him, past and to the spry thief now held by yet another just beyond.
In an emphatically serious tone, Machest hears the demand, “What, good sir, is your intent with such a weapon against this child? Is he a villain to be slaughtered by way of the edge you carry thus?”
Almost with an afterthought, Machest glances to his cleaver, back to the speaker who is still a blur to his vision, to the cleaver again, and back to the speaker.
Lowering the tool by a moderate sum, Machest fails to temper his angry plea as he likewise attempts to regain his breath, “This boy … this RAG-a-muffin boy … is a thief. A scourge who has absconded my wares …” Machest glances about to others in the growing crowd, “… and many of these as well. I set this day a trap to give catch.” Glowering past and to the boy he affirms, “And I might well have CAUGHT this rascal … and taught him a lesson to be learned …” with another deep breath he adds, “… before being returned to the child-house from which he must be escaped!”
Stepping closer to Machest, the speaker questions an accusation, “And you would teach this child a lesson with that?”
Machest rubs wine from his eyes and stares for a moment as he makes recognition, then he blusters, “I … I … I am sorry, Master Albri …” he stares at the tool as if in sudden realization of what he is carrying, then again glances about in a sudden wave of guilt. Then he returns to anger, “But the boy is a thief …”
Then Machest’s eyes grew wide as Logan steps from behind Albri and asks with conviction, “Is it not a greater crime to starve a child, or to force such a young one to sleep in the street?”
Machest is now speaking in an awkward fashion, for most all in this throng knows the speaker well, indeed he has only recently quelled a vampire evil from this vicinity, an evil which has given plague for years, “A thousand pardons …” he surrenders a pensive bow, “… Don’Syre Logan.” In reluctant, yet obedient manner Machest begins, “Blessed be Eayah almighty, blessed be he who …”
Logan brushes his hand in the air and gently shakes his head, then addresses Machest, “For what does it profit your soul …” then he looks toward and addresses the crowd, “… if you proffer not those in need, the sick …” he reaches his hand back toward the child.
Logan’s words carry more than sound, they carry an effect upon the people with a charisma one would have to witness to understand, “… the innocent, those who cannot fend for self?”
Somewhere Albri thinks he can hear someone mumble, “Ah, but the lad seems to be doing well enough, is he not?”
If Logan hears, which Albri is sure he does, he does not respond, which Albri is sure he won’t. Rather, he moves forward to address the crowd. Albri does not take time to listen … he has heard it all before. He knows Logan is going to connect with the people, and the people will listen, for Logan is from a common origin like many of them, less than many, even.
Turning to appraise the thief now held by Kaurl, Albri sees past the filth, the rags and piece of bread still in his hand. Albri recalls a time when he was not so much different.
“Would you like some hot tea to go with that?”
The thief, child, considers and nods his head with a slow smile that brightens his face.
Chapter 2
NEVER BEFORE HAS the boy been inside the Tenshai Teahouse, but he has been under it many times in the last two years. For the first time he studies the walls of the inside, as if trying to imprint them to memory. Indeed, this is a secret to his success for survival on the street, the memorizing of layouts and floor plans.
The business has only been recently acquired by Feila, the building itself has been let to erode from lack of proper care. He remembers the previous owner being more concerned with various women he kept in the back rooms. For what reason he cannot guess, but that was what happened.
It looks as if Feila has intentions of running a proper eating establishment. Even now she is working a pot of something good to eat. The boy doesn’t care, as long as it is hot and not covered in mold or half rotten, which is what he often has to live upon.
At first, he doesn’t trust the grown-up before him, but there is something about this one they call Albri, something that makes the boy feel warm inside. Casing the fixtures and layout of the spacious room, the positions of the doors and knowing exactly where the opening of his tunnel is, the thief’s mind has worked out no less than three plans of motion should he have to act quickly.
The hot tea, laced with honey and butter, tastes so good. He cannot remember when he has tasted anything like it. Grown ups were always trying to take him away, to put him in that smelly place with other children who did not like him, and old marm Ramy who made them do work, work, work while she laid around and just bossed them about. Of course, she was in a different town, but …
Albri and the woman he calls Feila talk to each other and are nice. The boy isn’t used to that, either. He had lived with a man and a woman long, long ago, maybe for three or four years, who yelled and screamed at each other and hit each other a lot. Then one morning he saw the woman lying on the floor and not moving. The man was nowhere around and then people came and took her away. Later they took him to live in that child-home.
It seems he can remember living with another family for a while; before that there was the smell of salt and lots of water. He can’t remember anything much besides that. He doesn’t even have a name.
Two years is a long time for a child, but it has been that long since escaping the child-house; two years of usually eating waste, sleeping inside of crates and holes in the ground.
After he finishes the first cup of tea and waits for the second to cool, the woman brings him the most wonderful smelling bowl of stew he has ever seen. Carefully, he has kept his sack of treasure food close, but these people must be rich, because there is lots of food in here. It doesn’t seem like they want his pack.
The woman, Feila, she sits down on the other side of the table with Albri and says to the man with a smile, “He getting to you? Bringing back memories?”
Albri smiles back and absently turns his own cup on the table.
The boy relishes the fire. Although it is Spring, the mornings are still chill and the room is nice and cozy.
“I know what you are thinking,” Feila said, “I think J’Hene would agree.”
Albri glances at her as the boy is now listening. Actually, they have been talking much, but he hasn’t been paying attention.
“You think so?”
Nodding, Feila replies, “Yes, I do. I would consider it myself, but I am not prepared for such. And you have …”
She paused as both notice the boy staring at them intently with spoon, carefully poised between mouth and bowl. Feila then said to the boy, “It is well, you are safe. Albri will let no one harm you.”
The boy slowly continues the important business of eating the hot stew … slowly, of course, as he cannot eat much … what with his starving diet and all. And he wants to savor each morsel.
Albri likes the direct manner with which the boy makes eye contact. Whatever else, this child’s spirit isn’t broken. Albri has seen so many children who have already been destroyed, crushed and abandoned to become whatever they will become.
Long ago someone had given him, Albri, a chance. Perhaps now he could pass it forward.
Albri asks the boy, “Do you have a name?”
The boy doesn’t hesitate … no … rather he ponders and gives thought to the question. He has been called many things, usually tied into swear words and violent threats.
Wait … there was one, a nickname lev
ied upon him after stealing a pastry from a plate when still at the child-home. An older brat began calling him, jellyroll, and it stuck.
The words are slanted, as he has not practiced much speech, but he says, “Dey call me Jelly-roul.”
A humorous smile covers the face of Albri and Feila, and is infectious so the boy smiles as well. Albri cannot help but notice how this child’s smile lightens up the room. He thinks, ‘How many children have lost the power of the smile? This boy must be saved, saved before he is lost to the wiles of the savage streets.’
“How would you like to eat well always, have a bed to call your own, and warm clothes to wear …”
Feila chuckles, “… and a bath!”
Both the boy and Albri glance to Feila, and Albri pauses a moment and adds with his own chuckle, “Yes …” he glances back to the boy, “… and a bath.”
The boy is not sure what to say. What is a bath? Then he takes another two spoonfuls of the delicious stew and asks, much in the way an adult might barter with a vendor of the Bazaar, “What do I got ta do?”
Albri and Feila both laugh good naturedly. Feila rises up to return to her stove and says, “Well Albri, you have someone to talk with.”
Albri takes in the countenance of the boy who is taking another spoon and waiting for an answer. “I tell you what, I have two daughters who need a big brother to look up to and be good to them. I have work to do studying the sky and planets, so I need someone to help me go fishing and provide food for the family. If you will help me with that, we can have a trade. How does that sound?”
The boy thinks, then asks, “Where you live?”
With a wink, Albri replies, “A long, long way from here. Through the Devil’s Kitchen, far south, onto the ocean and on a big island.”
The boy’s eyes grow wide with astonishment, “Onto da ossean? Where saut in da wadder.”
Aware of the importance in the boy’s tone, Albri says, “Yes, son.” After a moment of contemplation Albri asks, “Have you been to the ocean? Do you know what it is like?”
The shrug is not casual, but Albri notices the boy’s gesture is one of thoughtful lack of knowledge. The boy wasn’t sure, but it seemed he had a vague recollection somewhere in his memory.
“Can we determine a name for you? A man must have a name, his own name. And if you do not like it, you can change it one day when you are grown.”
The boy smiled, again brightening his face.
Albri thought of the nickname jellyroll and took a humorous thought. “A man once helped me, and taught me many things, his name was Jann.” He watched the boy see his reaction, but the boy was still listening. “And my wife is descended from a ship captain whose name was Raul…” Watching the boy he continued, “Raul is kind of like the way you say roul, when you say jellyroll.”
The boy was deliberating the names when Albri added, “Of course, on the island where we live the natives have their own language.” Albri studied the matter and added, “If you take their words for the ocean and friend and put them together you have Jha Ley.” He thought some more and smiled, “And if you link them together elf-style it comes out Jha’Ley.” Albri tilts his head to wait for the boy’s thoughts.
“Can I have awl names?”
Albri sits back and laughs, “Yes, yes you may. Jann Raul Jha’Ley … do you like that?”
The boy closes his eyes and mulls the name to himself … yes, he thinks … he likes it. For the first time he has his own name. The boy who shall be known as Jann Raul Jha’Ley likes this man. Jann Raul Jha’Ley is happy.
___________________________
From Albri’s perspective, the first big challenge will be getting Jann Raul, as he has come to like being called, into a bathtub. After some small talk between Albri and Feila, this is easily addressed by having two steaming tubs drawn in a private room. After which Albri steps into one, clothes and all, then sits back and relaxes. Sure enough, Jann Raul observes Albri do it first, then he does likewise.
Together they soak until the water becomes tepid, then they get out and climb into another prepared tub, each in their respective locations which are side by side.
Little talk is made as Albri gets into the game and dumps soapy water all over himself. Thankfully, Jann Raul follows suit and mimicked his antics.
The two make a childish mess all over the floor as they throw water at one another, laugh, splash and play. After cleaning out the first tub, Jann Raul’s being horrendously full of silt, a third tub is drawn as Feila let the comments fly how she and her attendant are doing all the work while Albri is playing, “… just like a boy.”
Her words are in jest, of course, but the real trial occurs when the third tub of hot, soapy water is drawn and after the two are climbed in. Albri begins to remove his clothing … article by article … slowly and in a casual, yet methodical fashion.
Albri recalls a time when he, himself, lived in a child-home and certain occasions still play coarse in his memory. He has no idea of Jann Raul’s experiences, but the child-home was bad enough for him to make an escape, and Albri can already discern the boy’s express modesty. This could allure too many reasons, but it is best to play it safe, especially as the beginnings of trust are already growing.
The notion of undressing, even beneath the thick suds, seems to cause concern for Jann Raul. But as Albri continues laughing and scrubbing with a long handled brush, Jann Raul begins to relax and follow suit.
Jann Raul keeps his dirty sack of food close by, but when Feila casually brings in two bundles of clothing and some thick towels, he is curious. No movement is made at this time to collect the soaked and stinking rags beside the tub.
Albri seems genuinely surprised at Feila’s gesture and says, “Look! Look, Jann Raul … we have new clothes! What of that?”
Although Jann Raul says not a word, he stares intently at the bundle upon the stool next to him. It is Albri’s guess the lad has never had new cloth upon his skin before, at least not for a long time.
Feila returns with her attendant, each carrying two wooden pails of warm water as she cheerfully says, “Enough now, you boys, it is time to take your rinse, don your clothes and come out for a bowl of hot stew. It is nigh to midday and we’ve much work to prepare for a feast come evening.”
She passes a glance to Albri, then a wink to the boy as she adds, “What say you, Jann Raul, are you up to a gravy full of meat, spuds and more? I think it may be we can find a hot pastry to tie the meal off, as well?”
Again, Jann Raul passes no word, but his ever infectious smile makes clear his thoughts.
Clapping her hands together twice, Feila leaves the room while saying, “Let’s be up with you, then. Hurry, I do not take well to my victuals going cold when I have striven to prepare them hot.”
Enthusiastically, Albri adds, “Oh, then … we best to comply. Feila is a master of the blade as well as spoon, and we do not wish to displease her.”
Again, taking care so as not to alarm Jann Raul in a sudden movement, Albri does not know how he might take to a nude presence, he rises with method from the tub and is careful to keep his back turned to Jann Raul. Grasping the first of his two buckets, he douses himself of suds, then does it again with the second.
“Ah-h-h!” He exclaims, and reaches for the thick, heavy towel on the stool beside him.
Jann Raul is hesitant, indeed, but in his quiet observation, he cannot help but notice the chiseled musculature of the man beside him … and the many scars which seemed to cover his body.
Albri’s trained ear listens carefully for the sound of the boy’s following of his example, and is satisfied to hear the first bucket pour over Jann Raul’s body.
Stepping out on the far side of the tub, Albri luxuriates in his towel and keeping his gaze away from Jann Raul makes the comment, “Nothing like the feeling of being clean.” He smiles to himself as he hears an, “Ah-h-h!” from the other side of the room.
Leading by example, Albri dons his fresh clothing and takes hi
s time in tying the foot-gear. With a foot on the stool he finishes securing his boot when he ventures to ask, still without looking, “Are we set?”
“Yes.”
Glancing to Jann Raul, Albri is pleased in the countenance of the boy, standing straight and proud in his new clothes, long hair still wet and clinging, but clean, crisp and an altogether fine looking lad.
___________________________
The feast goes well with Jann Raul introduced as the new ward of Albri, to journey south with him to live as family among the Georgian Isles. Keeping Albri within sight, Jann Raul still speaks little, but is enamored with stories spun by Jethroas of lost cities, ancient legends and forgotten lore.
N’Ugarr and Gordi are called upon to act out battle scenes, then Feila thrills all by leaping in with a broom handle for a weapon and thoroughly thrashes the two men to Jann Raul’s pleasure.
Feila takes time to show Jann Raul some basic movements in use of the sword, but the evening is in truth a time of drinking wine, eating of good food and reminisce of times both good and ill between dear friends. Each with their own history, their own talents and skill, not to seem compatible with their own light, but who have melded into a cohesive unit of alarming efficiency. But to what ultimate purpose, wonders Jann Raul? Was it to gain fortunes, to seek adventure?
It is the booming voice of the giant, the one they called Kaurl, who gives him a tentative answer, “We are simple folk who came together to serve a greater cause.” At the boy’s perplexed stare Kaurl adds, “We find and protect truth … as others have done before us, and as others may do again.”
Jann Raul asks, “Why now you stop?”
Kaurl seems to hesitate, then opens his mouth to answer when another voice, a person just entering the room intercedes, “Because the time has come. It is not as simple as one might believe.”
