by Andrew Elgin
"Maybe," said Javin, "it's better if I try to find all this out on my own? You keep telling me that it's natural, that I should feel it. So it would be best if I wasn't pushing after it so much, perhaps? Just letting it happen. I know you want me to fit in. I know you want to help me. But I feel guilty enough for not working with Hanlar. And I'm stopping you and I'm taking Tarla away from her chores as well. It doesn't seem fair.
"Perhaps I should do what you suggested at first; take a little time on my own just to see if anything happens. But I'm not going to keep doing it. If I can have one more day? That should be long enough, shouldn't it? Whatever happens, in two days, I'll be back helping as much as I can. At least until Torrint shows up."
Javin noticed Tarla's crestfallen look which she tried to hide. He knew he was depriving her of something she had longed for, but he saw the understanding and appreciation on Paysa's face.
"You may be right, Javin. And it may also be that you are the clever one here." She patted Tarla on the shoulder as if to offer some brief consolation. "Don't be late for the meal. Nobody can speak you, so don't wander too far. I dare say your appetite will guide you back in time, won't it?"
Javin nodded and smiled. He leaned over the table towards Tarla. "Thank you again for your time and your thoughtfulness today. I will always remember it." She nodded mutely in return, not daring to look up.
As he left, Paysa mouthed 'Thank you' at him. He couldn't help but feel that Tarla would only remember the disappointment he had given her. But at least, it was a memory.
Chapter Seven
Being on his own outside, with no idea of what to do or how to do it, convinced Javin that it was a pointless waste of time. It also made him aware that he had been keeping promises to others but had nothing similar to offer himself. Being alone on the farm with nothing to do only served to emphasize his feeling of isolation which verged, at times, on desperation.
He had wandered away from the house, not knowing where to go. Aimless meandering had led him to the hill behind the house again. This time, he had gone a little further, up to the top, from where he could see over the roof and some way into the distance. Beyond were the stables, currently empty most days except for the large beasts, the mandrias, the same type that hauled Torrint's wagons. The strange patchwork of fields, some dotted with animals which he guessed were gomars, was more visible from here. He couldn't see Hanlar, but there were many tall growths blocking his view. There were no obvious boundaries. Nothing to say where this farm might end and the neighbor's began.
This was the first time he had truly been on his own. The times at Landing, he had been separate from the others, but someone, usually Bellis, had been nearby to check in on him. Today he had nobody nearby. Nobody to look in on him. Nobody to see if he needed a question answered. It was strange, and he wasn't sure how to adjust to it. Above, the sky was clear of machines. Only clouds and natural flying things, birds or something like them. No machines anywhere. No sounds of them humming quietly, making machine noises, providing the background to the few memories he had. No metals and the echoes of hard surfaces. The alien nature of this world was unsettling, not because of the massive differences, but because of the minor ones: the smells, the noises, the sounds. He couldn't be sure, but he felt slightly heavier, but maybe that was simply due to eating well. And the food was certainly different. He was on a truly different world, so different that it had taken him until now to begin to appreciate how strange it was.
Just below the crown, on the side opposite to the house, was a place where bushes and shrubs were interspersed with larger tree-like growths. It seemed as good a place as any to rest. Sitting beneath a shading tree (or whatever it's called, he thought), he realized that he didn't care at all about getting a talent, about hearing Harmony. It was what everyone else wanted for him. What difference could it possibly make if he 'heard' Harmony, or if he could move things with his mind? It would not change his situation. He would still be here.
It was not what he wanted. And what he did want he could not have, apparently. There was nothing he could do about any of it; not about reaching Torrint, not about finding a healer, not about getting his memories back, not about his life. Nothing. And, although he could think that, and had been thinking it since arriving at the farm, this day it began to settle inside him, become a burr in his head. And, as he sat and stared and felt his aloneness, his powerlessness, so it began to rub at him.
Despite not wanting to have it intrude, he was aware that there was also guilt nibbling at him. Guilt at taking the time off to relax, knowing that the other three people were busily working. He wondered if this feeling was truly his, a part of his real being, who he really was. Was he actually someone who truly cared about others, or was this a change which had happened since his memory loss? Was it normal for him to make promises to others and feel the need to keep them? It felt natural, but what did he know? Wasn't there the possibility that he was a heartless sociopath who lived only for himself?
There was the inner confusion and then there was the outer world, where nothing happened. Nothing except sunlight fading into the strange new moonlight and unending work. But if there was nothing inside him that was truly himself, then nothing outside mattered. So where did guilt come from? Why keep promises?
Unable to resolve anything, he decided that he would find Hanlar and go back to working. It was, he thought, the only thing he could do and have some measure of control over. He could work until he ached, until his body begged him to stop. And that would be his choice. He could then, he realized, know himself through the pain he gave himself. It was the only way to prove to himself that he was someone; a separate being, an individual. No past and no future. Only the present ache, where the body was central and the mind had only a minor supporting role.
With that resolution made, he set about finding Hanlar. He didn't feel like having to explain his decision to Paysa, so chose not to ask her to ask Hanlar where he was. Instead, he decided to keep going in the general direction he had seen him take in the morning and look and listen really hard.
It took some time, but he eventually caught up with Hanlar as he had put a shovel down and was kneeling by a bag, tugging it open.
Hanlar looked up and noticed the change straight away. "Are you sure you don't need more time? I don't mind. I'm quite used to working out here--".
Javin cut him off. "I'm ready to work. That's what I want to do."
Hanlar thought about saying something else but then thought better of it. Instead, he gestured at a bag on the ground. "This needs planting in that area I just finished digging."
"No. I want to do the digging. You plant. I'll dig." And with that, Javin picked up the shovel and began turning over the soil in a way which, as Hanlar would later describe it to Paysa, was as if he wanted to kill something, but didn't know what it was he was looking for.
That evening, the meal was conducted mostly in silence. Javin felt a small and brief twinge of guilt when Tarla sat down. She looked as if she had been crying and was not capable of meeting his eyes. Hanlar and Paysa chose to say nothing, hoping to let emotions drain themselves with time. Javin had no wish to talk to anyone, especially about his decision to ignore the whole 'connect with Harmony' thing.
As the table was being cleared and Tarla headed out for her evening chores, Hanlar called her back. "Why don't you have an evening off? I'm sure that Javin wouldn't mind taking care of the mandria for a change, would you?"
Javin had been going to sit outside until it got dark. He shrugged as if it would not be a bother to him.
"They just need a brushing and make sure the water is flowing to them. Check the feed and collect any hairs around. They like the stables for some reason although they'd be fine outside. But, it's where they like to go at night, so that's how it is." Hanlar spoke without emotion, but Javin knew that he was anxious to get him out and allow him time to let off any coiled up energy he had left after the afternoon's labor. Hanlar was helping Javin keep his
promise to the family by getting him outside and away.
He walked down the slight slope to the stables. They were really not much more than high walls made of wood and clay, covered with a sloped roof of more timber and tightly woven or plaited fronds tied to it. He was aware that his body certainly knew of his efforts today, just as he had promised himself.
Entering the stables, he saw there were three large mandria already there who turned their heads to look at him. They were larger than the ones that had hauled Torrint's wagons, standing taller at the shoulder than Javin by a good two handspans. Large eyes of a startlingly bright yellow gazed at him with quiet interest. They were massive creatures but incredibly gentle, as Javin had learned. They looked quite capable of destroying the stables simply by leaning on the wall, but instead stood in a little group in the middle of the space as if they were nothing more than a few friends waiting for the last one of their group to arrive. And here he was.
Javin, despite never having had anything to do with animals before (as far as he knew, he always added in his mind), had never felt the least bit concerned at being near them. He had watched Hanlar and Tarla brush and feed them several times.
The mandria ambled a little nearer on wide, flat feet with three broad toes splayed out; real toes, which curled and gripped and were equipped with blunt black nails or claws. They wanted to inspect him better, nostrils wide as they took in his scent. The spiral-shaped horns were flat against their huge heads, forming coils out of which stuck large, shaggy ears. One poked a very long, very slim tongue, split near the end so that there were two independent tips, and rested it gently on his arm, as if tasting him, the tips dancing delicately across his skin, before withdrawing.
Javin didn't know why, but he felt safe with them. First, he picked up the wooden rake and dragged out the manure and dirty straw, piling it up outside to be collected later for fertilizing. He leaned and pushed and cajoled his way through the mandria to find the water trough. He made sure that the flow was unobstructed. He plucked out some stray debris and made sure that the overflow was able to drain freely before picking up a large stiff brush from its place near the door.
Dragging the brush across their hides seemed to be a soothing experience for them. A deep out-breath, like a sigh, escaped, stirring the dust on the floor, and the mandria lowered his head, closing his eyes as Javin brushed the loose hair out. He grabbed it with his free hand, depositing the pile in the wide clay bowl next to the brush's place. He would take it with him when he left. The fibers were thick and rough but they could be washed and made into pads and cloths which were heat resistant and highly durable. Paysa showed him the end result, but it was Tarla who actually made them.
If the brushing seemed to relax the mandria, it definitely relaxed Javin. Being with these beasts, brushing them, feeling more than hearing the reverberations they made deep inside their deep chests, was more calming than anything else he had done since his arrival. He enjoyed the rhythm of the brush and feeling the warm breath of one of them on his neck. The tiredness of his body, as much as the quiet companionship he felt, allowed his mind to drift. After a while, he began to hear a sound, almost a tune, in his head. It drifted in and out of his awareness. When he tried to listen to it, it lessened, became almost silent. When he went back to brushing and mindless drifting, so it became more evident, but always only in the periphery of his hearing. It deepened his relaxation, seemed to ease the aches and pains of the day. As he finished with the last beast and put away the brush, so the music drifted into silence, completely vanishing as he left the stable with his handfuls of hair from the mandria. Because it felt like a real tune, it didn't seem to be anything like Tarla had tried to explain. He thought it might be some old song from his past trying to break through. Which made him happy at first, but then he swiftly returned to his earlier mood. If that was all he got from his past life, was it really worth it? A snatch of a song. No. It was not worth getting his hopes up for.
Back in the house, Paysa was finishing up some chores in the kitchen area, while Hanlar was working some leather on the table. Tarla looked up briefly with still sad eyes as he shut the door and placed the hair in the larger receptacle there before turning her attention back to the mending in her hand.
Javin cleaned his hands off, poured himself a drink of water, still slightly cool from the spring behind the house, and leaned against the wall as he drank it in one long series of swallows.
"How did it go?" Hanlar asked.
"Good. They seem to enjoy it, don't they?"
Hanlar nodded. "They're gentle. It's good to be around them." It was Javin's turn to nod agreement. "Why don't you take that job over for the time being? There's plenty of other things Tarla can do and you don't seem to mind."
Javin thought for a moment. "Yes. I can do that."
And so it was that each day ended with Javin tending to the beasts, arriving with a tired body and leaving with a relaxed mind. The anger was muted somehow by the beasts. They accepted him as he was and did not care whether he had any talent or any memories. He looked forward to their company. And, every now and then, sometimes stronger, sometimes weaker but always present, was the 'almost music', the 'nearly song', in the background, the sounds which seemed to accompany his time with the mandria.
The days passed and the idea of reclaiming his memories became more remote. Javin worked his body hard to burn the rough edges from his anger to where it might be able to slide more silently down into his life, leave the surface, become less. His body became tougher, and as a result, his strength and stamina grew. The tasks were the same but becoming easier. But that did not mean that they had any deeper interest for him. Life on the farm was not becoming more attractive. It was still just work and nothing else. It seemed that Hanlar and Paysa had given up on him discovering his talent, and Tarla had come to accept that there would be no possibility of bridging the gap between herself and Javin. But he could still see the disappointment in her eyes. Javin had decided that he would leave as soon as possible. Torrint or some other person with transport would be available. And whenever that was, he would go with them. Where would not matter. But leaving would be his choice and no-one else's.
It was in that frame of mind, of thinking about leaving, that Javin was with the mandria again one evening. The sun was low and the air warm with just a gently erratic breeze stirring the topmost strands of a mound of straw, about hip height, just inside the stables. As usual, the mandria were waiting for him and, as usual, took turns to smell and taste him. It had been a hard day for Javin. The morning had consisted of digging a long trench to take water to another field. That had been followed by wrestling the striped pecornas, their usual humming sounds making a softly complaining choir, into a different field where the grazing was more lush. Then there had been the backbreaking task of harvesting weaver's weed which grew in clumps where water was close to the surface. The reed-like plants had roughened edges which would rub his arms raw if he wasn't careful. Cutting, carrying and stacking them for later soaking and beating into threads which could be woven (hence the name) had taken the rest of the day. And here he was now with this last chore.
The water trough needed cleaning out as usual and a fresh pile of feed needed to be brought in and placed where the mandria could nibble on it during the night. Javin finished cleaning out the trough and making sure the water supply was not obstructed outside as it trickled in under the wall of the stables. Then he raked the floor clean. Satisfied with that, he decided to take a rest for a moment and eased himself down to sit against the wall from where he could look out the door and watch the play of light and shade. The mandria ambled over to him, huffing and making those deep thrummings which rumbled over and through him. It was almost like being massaged by the sound and he automatically relaxed even more.
As he did so, the music, the tune he could almost make out, began to increase in volume. He had never heard it in the fields with Hanlar, so he assumed it was something to do with the sounds of the
big beasts affecting his hearing. A part of him wondered again if it was a tune from his earlier life and that his memory was coming back to him. He didn't recognize it, but, then again, without any memory, that wasn't surprising. Before, it had been much quieter. This time, however, the sound was stronger, more nearly a tune he could hum himself. It was somehow simpler to listen to or perhaps the familiarity of it made is easier to follow. Whatever it was, he allowed himself to let it into his head. He reached up idly to scratch the large head of the nearest mandria under the chin; an act which caused the thrumming to increase markedly. Javin smiled to himself. The music in his head, the contentment of the beasts and his own physical release made for a dreamlike state.
Scratching and listening, he could almost see how the music might go. Not listening so much, as understanding the tune and what it was going to do. He gradually felt more comfortable with this understanding. Still scratching, his glance fell on the pile of straw by the door and he thought about how that task was still waiting. At the same time, he felt like there was something missing in the music, just a short series of notes, a cadence or two, which would complement it, give it something new. He heard the music and he heard the sounds he thought would enhance it. Suddenly, the mandria jerked its head away and huffed twice in what felt like a warning. Javin was jerked into full awareness himself and saw, without believing, the pile of straw in mid-air falling to the ground beside the beast as if it had been thrown by invisible hands.
Javin was astonished. There was no sudden wind. That was obvious from the stillness of the plants outside. And yet, it had happened. He was too amazed to realize that the music was no longer audible. All he could see was a thrown pile of straw and no explanation for it happening.
