Storyteller

by Amy Thomson

  The innkeeper had waved away Teller's money, asking her to stay another night and tell stories in the bar. To Samad's relief, she had agreed. They spent that morning washing the mud out of their clothes and gear. In the after­noon, they visited a small country schoolhouse where Teller told stories to the children.

  It was strange, being in a school again, While he was at the foster home, he had made it halfway through second year. He could read and even write a little, but he rarely had access to books, and even less access to electronic texts. There was a library in Melilla, but he had stopped going there when the librarian began asking him where he lived and who his parents were.

  Looking at the cheerful, well-scrubbed children sitting in a circle around Teller, he felt lonely and left out. He had watched and envied the children playing in the schoolyard in Melilla, but going to school would have drawn the atten­tion of the authorities. Today he was with Teller, which made everything all right, except he was still an outsider. It would be nice to belong somewhere.

  As Teller told stories, Samad looked longingly at the brightly colored books on the shelves. Maybe when they got to Nueva Ebiza, he would ask Teller if they could visit a library.

  When the storytelling session was over, the teacher came up to him.

  "This is from us, to thank you for coming today, Samad," she said, handing him a slim red volume. It was a beauti­fully illustrated collection of stories.

  "Thank you," he said, "Thank you very much!" His hands caressed the binding, eager to investigate its contents.

  On the ride home, he opened the book and tried to read. It was a hard book, but there were pictures for him to look at when the reading got too difficult.

  "Do you like books?" Teller asked him.

  He looked up from the page he was deciphering and nod­ded shyly.

  "Would you read a little bit out loud to me?" she asked.

  He shrugged, ashamed at how badly he read.

  "Just a page or two, Samad," Teller coaxed.

  Hesitantly, Samad began to read out loud, stumbling over the hard words. Teller listened intently, eyes shut. Af­ter several paragraphs, he stumbled to a halt, too self-conscious to continue.

  "I'm not very good," he mumbled, embarrassed by all his mistakes.'

  "I thought you did very well, Samad. I wasn't sure you could read at all. How much schooling have you had?"

  "Not much," he confessed. "I was just starting school when my mother died. I was in second year when I ran away."

  "Then you did extremely well, Samad."

  He shrugged and looked away, embarrassed by her praise.

  "Would you like me to work with you on your reading?" she asked.

  He looked up at Teller, surprise and hope in his eyes. "Yes please, sera. I would like that very much." He glanced down at the wooden railing on the wagon, afraid that his ex­citement would show. Could this mean that she meant to keep him with her permanently?

  "Well then, when we get back to the inn, we'll spend a little while going over your book. I'll help you with the un­familiar words."

  "Thank you, sera," he said, happiness swelling inside his chest like a bright yellow balloon.

  The last of the other patrons filed out the door, leaving Teller and Samad alone in the common room. Out here in the highlands, people went to bed early. But the storytelling session had been a success. The room had been full and the audience attentive. The crowd had drunk and eaten its fill, much to the delight of the innkeeper. He had invited them to stay an extra night, but Teller had politely declined. The longer her trip with Samad, the harder the parting would be. She frowned into the fire. Tomorrow they would walk down to the next town and catch the train into Nueva Ebiza. The Guild had arranged for them to stay with the family who wanted to adopt Samad. It was time to prepare him for that introduction.

  "Let's go upstairs," she offered. "I think there's time for one more story, just for the two of us, before we go to bed."

  Samad brightened noticeably at this. Teller topped up his cider and her ale, and they went upstairs, mugs in hand.

  While Samad built up the fire, Teller mentally rehearsed her story. She had been working on it since before they left Melilla, shaping it and adjusting it as she gained greater in­sight into Samad's character. Still, it was going to be a diffi­cult story to tell. She wanted this story to gently nudge Samad into accepting the possibility of a new home, with new parents. She felt a little sad, thinking about Samad leaving her. But it wouldn't be fair to ask a boy as young as Samad to follow her all over Thalassa. And she had her own work to do.

  The fire was crackling nicely, and Samad was waiting. It was time to begin.

  "Once upon a time," Teller began, "there was a little kit­ten who'd lost its mother. It survived on scraps of food it found in garbage cans and sheltered wherever it could find a corner out of the rain. The kitten managed like this for quite a while, but fall turned to winter, and the weather grew rainy and very cold. One day the kitten, made daring by cold and starvation, crept into the back room of a fish seller's shop and stole a fish. The owner of the store saw the hungry kitten take the fish and chased after her.

  "The kitten fled, the fish clenched in her teeth. She scrambled away, slipping on the slick cobblestones. But just as the shopkeeper was about to catch the kitten, a dog rushed out from an alley, tripping the kitten's pursuer.

  " 'Follow me!' the dog called out. 'This way!'

  "The kitten followed the dog. He led her into an alley and through a gap in a fence into a backyard. From there they scrambled down a culvert, under a hedge, and into the warm, fragrant darkness of a stable.

  " 'We should be safe here,' the dog said. The kitten, suddenly alone with a dog several times her size, arched her back and retreated, her hissing muffled by the fish in her mouth.

  " 'It's all right," the dog reassured her. 'I won't hurt you. You don't need to be afraid.' He moved away from the kit­ten. 'Go ahead and eat.'

  "After a couple of quick, nervous licks to wash off the worst of the dirt from the culvert, the hungry kitten tore into the fish. She slowed down when she'd eaten about two-thirds of the fish. A dozen bites later, her stomach bulging, she stopped and looked up at the dog.

  " 'You can have the rest, if you'd like,' she offered.

  "The dog, who had been watching from a safe distance, stepped up, nosed the remains of the fish, then gulped it down in two bites.

  " 'Thank you,' the dog said. 'Would you like to stay here for the night? It's warm, dry, and safe. You could sleep in the hayloft.'

  "It would be nice to be warm and dry for once, the kitten thought. And the dog had saved her from the fish stall man.

  " 'Thank you,' the kitten said. She washed herself off thoroughly, then burrowed into the hay beside the dog. She slept deeply for the first time since she lost her mother.

  "The dog continued to look after the kitten, helping dig food out of trash bins and scaring off other animals trying to, steal her food. In return, the kitten caught mice for them to eat and crawled through tight spaces for food the dog couldn't reach. In a short time, they became close friends.

  "But the dog could see that the kitten, though she seemed happy, needed a home and people to belong to.

  "The dog continued to ponder the problem of finding a home for his friend without finding an answer.

  "Then one day, as they were patrolling the market, an old woman saw them. She knelt down and held out a bit of the

  sausage roll that she was eating. The kitten came as close as she dared, and the old woman tossed the morsel of sausage to it. The kitten ate the sausage, and then looked at the dog and back at the old woman.

  " 'Do you want me to give your friend some as well?' the old woman asked. 'Here then.' And she tossed a bite of sausage to the dog, who snapped it up eagerly. The old woman smiled at the two animals, picked up her bags, and walked off.

  "The two animals cautiously followed the old woman home. She lived in a neat little brick cottage surrounded by
a big garden.

  " 'It's a nice place,' the dog said.

  " 'I'll bet there's all kinds of bugs and mice to chase in the garden,' the kitten agreed longingly.

  "The garden was so pretty and the house so charming that the two animals began to pass by every day. Whenever they encountered the old woman, she would pet them and give them something to eat.

  " 'If only the old woman would take in my friend,' the dog thought, 'then she would be happy and safe. But how can I make this happen?'

  "A few days later, the kitten caught three plump mice, which she proudly presented to the dog.

  " 'Why don't you save one and give it to the old woman who feeds us?' the dog suggested.

  " 'That's a good idea,' the kitten said, and she carried the mouse to the old woman's house. The old woman was out working in her garden, and the kitten laid the dead mouse at her feet.

  " 'What a clever little cat you are!' the old woman praised her. 'If you'll wait a minute, I'll bring you some milk.'

  "The kitten looked up at her and mewed plaintively, her tail straight up in the air.

  "The old woman went inside and came out with a saucer of milk, which she set on the front stoop. The kitten lapped it up eagerly. When the saucer was clean, the old woman reached out and scratched the kitten's ears. Soon the little cat was sitting in the old woman's lap, purring loudly.

  "You're such a sweet little cat. Why don't you come and live with me?

  "Hearing her words, the dog felt a rush of sadness. He was glad that the kitten had found a home, but he would miss her company a great deal. With a heavy sigh, he got up to go.

  "But the little cat saw the dog get up. She leaped from the woman's lap and trotted over to the dog. She sat down and looked from the dog to the old lady and back again.

  "The old woman laughed. 'Yes, your friend is welcome to stay with me as well.'

  "The little kitten trotted to the doorway and looked back at the dog.

  " 'Well, come on. We've got a home now,' the kitten said.

  "And so the two friends found a home with the old woman. And they were very happy together. And as far as I know, they're living there still."

  Teller looked at Samad. He was sitting by the fire, his eye­lids heavy with sleep, but he was still awake, and smiling.

  "I liked it," he said. "It was a good story."

  "Thank you Samad. It was the first time I've ever told it to anyone."

  "Then you honor me, sera," Samad said.

  Teller smiled. "Thank you Samad. Come on, it's time for bed. We've got a long trip in front of us tomorrow."

  Teller banked the fire and tucked Samad in. Then she climbed into her bed and switched off the light, leaving only the faint red glow from the banked fire. The story's ending had surprised her. She had originally planned to end

  the story by having the dog leave the kitten safe in her new home, but some mischievous djinni in her subconscious had insisted on including the dog in her happy ending. She rolled over, bunching the pillow under her head.

  Well, the story was told. Hopefully its message about finding a new home had reached Samad. Tomorrow they would get to Nueva Ebiza and check in with the Guild. She wanted to get Samad a haircut and take him to a doctor as well. The child was probably way behind on his vaccina­tions. And maybe they could have dinner at Carlucci's.

  Given all they had to do tomorrow, it would be best to stay at the Guild House. Then the day after that, they would go stay with Samad's new family and begin the pro­cess of transferring his affection to them. Teller sighed. Samad would only be hers for one more day. She knew how the dog felt, watching the kitten in the old woman's lap. The happy ending in this story would be Samad's, not hers.

  The next few weeks were going to be painful. She would be relieved when it was all over and she could get on with missing Samad. She hoped his new family would love his spirit and his sense of adventure as much as she did. God, how she was going to miss him!

  Samad lay back and stared up at the red-lit ceiling, feel­ing incredibly happy. Teller had made up a story just for him! It was a good story, too. Maybe someday he and Teller would find a home, just like the kitten and the dog had. But he wasn't in any hurry to settle down. He liked traveling. Even being cold, wet, and tired had been fun because he was with Teller. But if Teller wanted to settle down, he'd be willing to settle down with her.

  He yawned and turned over in bed. It didn't really mat­ter where he was, as long as he got to be with Teller.

  CHAPTER 3

  TELLER FROWNED DOWN AT THE ADDRESS written on the scrap of paper in her hand, and then up at the broad-beamed white house in front of them. There were worn spots on the lawn and a brightly colored toy ornithopter lay canted on one side under a wooly-leaved aka shrub. The house was well kept up and freshly painted. In the distance, Teller could hear the bells of the cathedral chiming ten o'clock.

  As she studied the house, two children came running around the corner of the yard, shrieking in play. The first child, a girl of about ten, scooped up the ornithopter and ran around the bush, while the second, a boy of six, ran after her. She threw the toy, which flapped and fluttered through the air until it struck the white fence that enclosed the yard. As the little boy ran to pick it up, he saw Teller and Samad standing at the gate.

  "Does the Karelli family live here?" Teller asked the lit­tle boy.

  The boy nodded. "Are you the storyteller lady?"

  "Yes, I am."

  "I'll go get my mama." And he ran inside yelling, "Mama! Mama!"

  The girl, a freckled redhead, opened the gate. "You'll have to excuse my brother's manners, he's too young to know any better. Please come in. Our parents are looking forward to meeting you."

  As they came up the walk, the front door opened, fram­ing a small woman with black hair and a warm smile.

  "Are you Teller?" she asked.

  "I'm Teller Bernardia, and this is my friend, Samad."

  Suddenly shy, Samad bobbed his head at Sera Karelli.

  "Welcome to our house. I am Athena Karelli. You've al­ready met my daughter Alonsa and my son Nikolas. I'll show you your rooms and introduce you to the rest of the family."

  Teller watched the Karellis closely as they made her and Samad welcome in their home. The children seemed loved and secure. As soon as they were settled, Samad ran off with little Nikolas and his twelve-year-old brother Amin, eager to play with other children after all this time among adults.

  "He's a good child," Teller said wistfully. "I hope you like him as much as I do."

  "It's clear that you love him very much," Athena replied.

  "But he deserves a stable home life with a family who loves him. I'm on the road for most of the year. It wouldn't be fair to drag him around with me."

  "But you'll miss him," Athena added. "And who wouldn't?"

  "His mother," Teller said angrily. "She let drugs come

  between her and Samad. And the foster home he ran from was too busy punishing him for his mother's sins to see what a gem they had." She shook her head and smiled apologeti­cally at Athena. "I'm sorry. It makes me angry to see a child treated this badly on a beautiful world like ours."

  "I understand," Sera Kerelli said. "A couple of our adopted children have terrible pasts, too. It's easy to be an­gry with the parents when you see the damage they've done to their children. But—" She shrugged. "Without them, we would not be the family we are. I try to understand the par­ents as well as the children." She smiled again, an ironic gri­mace with pain and anger at its heart. "And sometimes I wake up at two o'clock in the morning wanting to strangle their birth parents for what they've done to my child."

  Teller nodded. "That's it exactly."

  It was fun staying with the Karellis, Samad thought. He'd never seen a family like theirs. Most of the kids were adopted. Some of them had had pretty rough lives before the Karellis took them in. If his foster home had been like this, he'd never have run away. But then he'd never have met Teller.

&nb
sp; Before he'd met Teller, he'd dreamed of living with a family like the Karellis. But he couldn't imagine living with them now. Much as he liked the family, they were sedentary as oysters. Living with them would bore him to tears now that he had traveled with Teller. Besides, the Karellis had each other. They were complete. Teller was alone. She needed him, and he needed Teller. Samad liked the Karellis, but he was quietly glad he wasn't one of them.

  It was little Nikolas who let the bull out of the pen. Samad had just told him Teller's bedtime story about the kitten. Nikolas looked up at him, his blue eyes heavy-lidded

  with sleep, and said, "I'm glad you're going to be my brother. You tell good stories."

  Samad's breath caught. "What did you say?" he demanded.

  His tone of voice woke Niko up. "N-nothing," he fal­tered. "I wasn't supposed to say anything about it. It was supposed to be a surprise."

  "What surprise?"

  "My parents want to adopt you. That's why you're stay­ing with us. You won't tell on me, will you?"

  "No!" Samad whispered. Fighting back tears, Samad ran from the room. How could Teller do this to him! Didn't she see how much they needed each other?

  He headed for Teller's room, intending to confront her with what Nikolas had said, but Teller wasn't there. Her storyteller's shawl and staff were gone, too. He felt another surge of panic, afraid that Teller had abandoned him with the Karellis. Then he recalled that she said she was going to a Guild meeting. Samad looked in the closet. Her travel-stained pack was still there, along with most of her clothes. Relief washed over him. She would be coming back.

  Samad lay in bed, waiting for Teller's return. Despite his worries, he was so tired that he was half asleep when he heard her familiar tread outside his door. Sudden fear jolted him fully awake. Maybe she really didn't want him after all. When she came in to check on him, he pretended to be asleep.