by Andrew Elgin
The mandria soon got over its nervousness and began to pick at the straw and chew. Javin, however, was not so sanguine and looked for any explanation, but found none. He got up to see if there could have been any more straw stored out of sight and which might have fallen. But it was obvious that it had been the pile by the door which had been thrown. There was no other straw.
Mystified but without answers, Javin turned to completing his task; the spreading of the straw and the brushing. As he worked, he wondered if he should say anything. Perhaps something like this was normal, although he very much doubted it. But during the course of finishing brushing the mandria, he had decided to keep it to himself. If it happened again, then he would say something. For now, though, it was simply a strange incident, which, the more he thought about it became a little less strange. Just something which had happened.
He was not to find out if it would be repeated, because, on the following day, just after midday, Torrint's wagons were seen creaking along the pathway to the house.
Chapter Eight
Torrint had arrived. Javin was told by Hanlar, who had been informed by Paysa.
"Let's go back and meet them. We'll be in time for some lunch." Hanlar brushed the dirt from his hands.
Now the moment had arrived, Javin felt a little sad. A part of him regretted leaving Hanlar with so much work to do. It didn't matter that Hanlar enjoyed it or that he didn't seem to think of it as work; the feeling persisted. Javin wiped his hands on the front of his tunic and held out his hand to Hanlar, who looked at it as if he didn't know what to do. Javin leaned forward and grabbed Hanlar's rough hand and shook it. The puzzlement was still evident.
"It's something we do where I grew up. A way of saying hello, or goodbye, or thank you. That's all." He shrugged. "I just wanted to say thank you and also goodbye."
Hanlar was still mystified but smiled anyway. "So there are things you do remember?"
"Things like that, they're sort of buried in me somewhere deep enough that they stayed, I suppose," Javin said. "I only just realized that I knew it." He smiled slightly. "I really do want to thank you for helping me, Hanlar. I mean it. I don't know what I would have done otherwise."
Hanlar brushed that aside with a motion of his hands. "No need to thank me. You helped me, remember?"
"Anyway, I'm sorry I've been in a bad mood for most of the time."
"But the mandrias help, don't they?"
"About that --."
Hanlar stopped him. "Tarla will be all right about looking after them again. She had a rest as well. And I do know that she will miss you. A lot." Hanlar shrugged. "But she will get over it. Now, let's get back. As you know, we don't often have visitors, so it's important we spend as much time as possible with them. Much to be talked about. Fresh news! And I will have to buy Tarla something to cheer her up, I suppose." He smiled a genuine smile which reached his eyes, and they began the walk back to the house.
"Why didn't you trade with Torrint when I arrived?" Javin asked.
"He was doing a favor. He didn't arrive to trade, but to bring you," Hanlar explained. "He could have tried to sell something, but he didn't. But now he's back again, he'll want to take advantage of it. That's why I like him."
When they arrived, Torrint was sitting on the porch, long legs stretched in front of him, sipping on the inevitable beaker of simesh, and Banith was leading the mandria down to the stables. Paysa and Tarla were investigating the back of Torrint's wagon and inspecting various items.
As Javin and Hanlar walked up, Torrint acknowledged them both with that slow nod of his head, his face showing no particular emotion.
Tarla had spotted her father and rushed up to him with several long, bright feathers in her hand. They seemed to glow and reflect light in a shimmering kaleidoscope of color.
"Oh, please may we get these? They are so beautiful! I've never seen anything like them before." She stroked them gently against her cheek, eyes closed, savoring the feel of them. Hanlar grinned knowingly at Javin and cleared his throat.
"Well, we'll have to see if we can afford them. There's all sorts of things we need."
"Oh, but these are so beautiful! Just think how they would look inside! They would make anything better!" Her tone was pleading, her face imploring her father to see what she saw in them. Paysa watched her with a smile on her face.
"What exactly are they anyway?" asked Hanlar. "I don't recall seeing such things before."
Torrint wiped his mouth on his sleeve and put the beaker down beside him carefully. "Those are the feathers of a gorry. Good ones, like those, are rare."
Paysa sniffed. "Bound to be, aren't they? I don't suppose you have any that aren't so good?"
Torrint just cocked his head to one side and a wry grin spread slowly across his face.
"No. I thought not. Silly of me to ask, wasn't it?" Paysa harumphed and turned back to her investigation of the wagon, but there was a smile on her face as well. Tarla meanwhile kept pressing Hanlar to feel the feathers for himself.
"All right, Tarla. I make no promises. We'll see if we can afford them." This was met with a squeal of delight. "I can't promise, Tarla! Oh, why do I bother even trying?" Hanlar grinned hugely at his daughter. "Go on. Take them inside. I'll sort something out with Torrint."
Watching them, Javin realized that having the trader arrive like this was a big event. It was like seeing into another part of the world. He hadn't understood that when he had arrived, but watching it now, he felt, once again, how isolated everyone was, how apart they were. The banter, the haggling and the wonder at seeing new things made such visits hugely important, he realized. He now understood better what Hanlar had said, that Torrint had not offered any trading opportunities when he had brought Javin because he knew that being taken in by the family was far bigger than anything he could do. But today was obviously different.
Later that day, as they sat finishing a meal of meat, spiced (free of charge) from one of Torrint's pots, some vegetables and hunks of bread to mop everything up, Hanlar and Torrint disappeared outside to settle up. Paysa and Tarla looked over their purchases approvingly, pointing out the finer details to each other. Banith had gone to check on the mandria and brought back some hair he had brushed out. Paysa pushed some more bread and a beaker of simesh at him as thanks.
Soon enough, the other two men returned. Torrint eased himself onto a stool, declining the offer of a chair, saying that they never made them in a way which was comfortable for him. He accepted another beaker of simesh and turned his attention to Javin.
"I got the message and I'm here. But what is it you actually need?" His clear eyes fixed themselves on Javin over the rim of the beaker.
"I want to find a healer who can help me get my memories back."
"Memories? You can't remember anything?"
"I can only remember some things. And nothing from early in my life. I'd like to get them back."
Torrint nodded. "That would be... annoying, I suppose." He paused. "I know a few healers. And maybe one of them could help you."
"But you're not sure." It was a statement, not a question.
"Obviously not, since nobody I know has lost their memory before. But," and he spread his hands, "since some healers are better than none, it's worth going to see them, don't you think?"
Javin nodded. "How long will it take, do you think?"
Torrint smiled, showing his blue teeth. "As long as it takes. Maybe the first healer will be fine. Maybe none will be able to heal you." He stood and bowed at Hanlar and Paysa, a smaller bow to Tarla, touching his brow as he did so. "Thank you for the trading and the food. Banith and I will leave in the morning." He turned to Javin. "Early." And with that, the two traders left, to sleep with their wagons, Javin supposed.
Chapter Nine
Sitting next to Torrint, Javin watched the countryside ease past them. Leaving the farm, he took a far keener interest in looking at it than he had when he had arrived.
As promised, they had set out very e
arly, the sun barely above the horizon. Javin had bundled his few possessions together and hoisted himself up beside Torrint. With a last courteous bow to the family, Torrint had eased the wagon into motion. Javin had said his goodbyes the previous evening. Despite his eagerness to leave, he had found it difficult to find the right words. It wouldn't have mattered what he had said to Tarla. She had not been able to hide her disappointment, her sadness, and had clung to him for a brief moment as her parents stood close by with a sad, knowing look on their faces. She had not come to the door to wave him off. But, when he looked back one last time, he saw her being hugged by her mother as Hanlar raised his hand in farewell.
It was not long before all the familiar landmarks were behind and what lay ahead was new and unknown. Torrint was still not much interested in conversation, so there were long periods of silence as before. Occasionally, Javin would ask about some part of the landscape and Torrint would tell him about it briefly before lapsing again into silence.
Javin realized with something of a shock that he was actually missing the hard work, the laboring in the fields. It had been a routine he had known and come to accept without wanting to acknowledge it.
"When we stop," he said, "I can look after the mandria for you. I used to do that every evening back on the farm."
Torrint continued his chewing and nodded toward the beast. "This un's Kesit." Using his thumb to point behind he added, "The one pulling Banith's wagon is Kasser. Make sure they have no sore spots from harness rubbing them. Hobble them, brush them and in the morning check them over again for bites or anything else. They'll feed themselves, plus they like a little bit of water."
"I can do that. Is there anything else I can do to help?"
Torrint scratched behind his ear with one long finger as he thought. "Maybe. It's going to be a while before the healer. We'll see what else you're good at."
"How long do you think it will take to get there? Is it very far?" Javin was eager to know.
Torrint jutted his lower lip out and wrinkled his nose. "Depends."
"On what?"
"Trading, the weather, if Kesit stays healthy, lots of things."
"Well, how far is the nearest healer?"
"There's one in Red River, and another in Sweetwater. Either might work. We'll see."
Javin felt himself becoming annoyed. "And how far away are they?"
Torrint frowned at him. "How far? How do you measure? I measure in days, or trades, or sometimes the weather at the turn of seasons. And one affects the other. A big trade adds days. Many small trades add days. No trades, fewer days." He spat out the leaves and wiped his mouth. "How far they are is how long it will take to get there. If you get your memories back before then, that's fine. If not, you won't have lost any more, will you?"
Javin didn't know how to respond. Yet again he was faced with another huge gap, impossible to bridge, between what he knew and how the people on Harmony thought. How could he explain highways or speed or distances so that it would mean the same to them as to him? Defeated, it was his turn to lapse into silence.
That night, Javin took over the care of Kesit and Kasser from Banith, after being shown how to hobble them with two lengths of braided leather passed around and between their front legs and tied loosely.
Brushing them, he felt himself begin to relax again as he had with the ones back in the stable. He even heard a snatch of that music again. It sounded familiar. If only he could recall where he had heard it before. It was frustrating. If it was his memory coming back, then maybe just allowing it to happen would be the best thing he could do. Maybe the healer would be a waste of time.
Until he was more certain, he decided to say nothing.
The days passed slowly, allowing Javin to find a new rhythm. Sometimes he walked beside the wagon or sat with Banith. There was the faint track which they followed, undulating across the ground, two half-covered wheel ruts, vague depressions, barely visible. Each evening and morning he tended to the mandrias and listened to the music which came through when the wagons stopped creaking.
One evening, sitting up against one of the solid wheels, staring into the red embers of the fire, Javin asked, "What's the strangest thing you've seen in your travels?"
Torrint sucked on a tooth for a moment, pondering. Before he could speak, however, Banith said, "For me, that would be the fire on the ground, moving slowly along. That was very strange to see."
"Fire? Moving along the ground?" Javin pointed. "Like our fire here?"
Banith shook his head. "This was much, much bigger. There was a huge fire, much smoke. It looked like a mountain was on fire. It was a long way away, but the ground was on fire, or it seemed to be. It seemed to be coming from the burning mountain. It burned everything it touched. I couldn't get near to it. It was like it was tumbling very slowly." Banith's hands moved to show what he meant.
Javin puzzled over this for a moment. Then he said, "Was this mountain, the one in the distance, did it have rumblings and loud noises as well as a lot of smoke?"
"Yes."
"I know what that's called! That's a volcano! And the fire on the ground, that's lava." He gave a short laugh, shaking his head in surprise. "Now how did I know that, if I can't remember anything else?"
"Lava. Volcano." Banith spoke the words slowly as if to memorize them.
"Maybe you're getting your memory back a bit at a time." That was from Torrint.
"Have you ever seen a volcano yourself, Javin?" Banith asked.
Javin smiled ruefully. "That's the problem. I know the word, what it means, but I don't recall having seen one. Maybe I did and that's how I know the word. I just know that's what they're called and what they do." He gave a small sigh, as if of regret. "What about you, Torrint? What's the strangest thing you've seen?"
"That would be the first time I saw the sea." He smiled at the recollection. "All that water in one place, not going anywhere else."
"You've seen it more than once, then? Is it far from here?" Javin put his hand up to stop any answer. "I'm sorry. You can't tell me. It depends on how long it takes to get there, right?"
"All I can tell you is that it would take a long journey to get there." Torrint considered this a moment, then added, "Very long."
Javin wondered what that might translate as. "So the next place is Red River?"
Both Torrint and Banith nodded.
"And that's much closer, I hope? And with a healer?"
"There was a healer there. Maybe still is. We'll see." That from Torrint.
"How long ago were you there last?" asked Javin.
Torrint thought for a moment. "Last time we were there was... beginning of the summer?" He looked to Banith for confirmation, who nodded his agreement.
"So not that long ago, then?" Javin was eager to find out as much as he could. "We're still in summer now, aren't we?"
Again, Torrint nodded. "Yes. You arrived at Landing maybe around the middle of summer. Maybe later." He dug a finger into his ear as he thought more. "Probably about then."
Javin thought back and realized how much time he had already spent here. Back on Haven, he felt sure, summer would be nearly over in the same span of time. "So this is late summer, is it?"
"No. Late summer happens when the mandria stop shedding and the coat grows thicker. Still a long time for that to happen."
Without a calendar, without clocks, Javin realized, he had no way of knowing just how much time was passing. Here, you told the time by what happened to animals' coats! The beginning of summer suddenly seemed a long way off. In all that time perhaps the healer had left or died or given up healing. His hopes, which had begun to rise, fell swiftly.
Torrint, oblivious to Javin's hopes, said, "We should be seeing the red hill soon, and after that, it's a day or three to Red River. Then we trade."
Chapter Ten
Torrint was right. The next day, an abrupt hill with sheer red cliffs, deep red in the sun, was duly passed, and two days after that, they pulled up on a slope lead
ing down to a cluster of buildings. Red River. So called because it ran through the same red rocks the hill had been made of.
They made camp, even though it was the afternoon. "We trade tomorrow," Torrint explained as they went through the familiar routine. "They will know we're here. We don't start late in the day. Trading should be relaxed. Allow people time. There is never a rush, or there are regrets. And regrets are not good for business." He suddenly seemed loquacious, albeit with spaces between sentences. But Javin realized he was explaining for his sake, to help him understand the proper way of things here.
"Imagine if someone traded with us in haste and went away with something they did not want. There would be a very long time before they saw us again. A long time to build up distrust. And, we must have trust, Javin. No trust, no trade."
The next morning, they set off directly after breakfast. Torrint normally leaned against the wagon as he ate. This morning , however, he had closed himself off in the rear of the wagon, reappearing after a short while with a brief nod to Banith. As they drew nearer, the scattered woodlands gave way to occasional fields and hedges in the now familiar scattered, seemingly random, arrangement. Some few houses with their tell-tale thin flag of smoke from the chimneys were to be seen some distance from the path which was becoming more defined. It was impossible to know by looking where one family's fields began and a neighbor's left off. There was an informal blending of human effort and natural growth which could only happen over time and with continual care. Fences disappeared into stands of trees, became trees (or what passed for trees in Javin's mind), or ended in carefully tended patches of some plant or other. The effect was undeniably intriguing to the eye, which sought for, but failed to find, obvious patterns in the landscape.
"I can't think that anyone here has much to trade with, have they?" asked Javin as they rumbled slowly along.
