by J. Naomi Ay
“Yes, Sir,” I replied. “You don’t need to justify it to me.”
“Of course I don’t,” he scoffed looking down his regal nose at me. I meekly lowered my head. A moment later, he relaxed. He leaned back in his chair crossing one leg over the other and spoke to me as if we were old friends. “She didn't want to marry the Karut you know. She had quite a mouth on her too, and she would argue with me like a fish wife. She was adamant that she would not have the Karut, but in the end, she did her duty. He'll do his duty too.” The King nodded his head as if to reinforce this assumption. “In time of course. Merakoma has this silly notion that this boy is something mystical; someone the Infidel wrote about a thousand years before, just prior to nuking the Mother Planet. Can you imagine that, Mr. Taner? Can you imagine the Infidel sitting at his desk writing these words about his son being his enemy’s son and that a child shall control great and powerful forces and will unite the people that war against each other in this galaxy? This boy will save our people, all our people, this blind, brilliant, magical boy. Can you imagine that, Mr. Taner?” The King’s voice rose as he threw his hands down in disbelief. “And then the Infidel ordered the destruction of the Mother Planet and he fled. And he came here so that a thousand years later, this boy would be born to rule the galaxy. Can you imagine that, Mr. Taner?”
“The galaxy? Frankly, no Sir,” I said.
The King shook his head. “Not I either. However, Merakoma, though he has never seen the boy, says he bears the mark of the eagle upon his skull, and that is the sign, the proof as it were. The Infidel in his writings described the very birthmark this boy bears on his head.”
I wanted to ask if the Infidel in his writings described the boy’s feet as well, but I kept my mouth shut.
“Tell me what you think, Mr. Taner. Is my brother king mad and delusional or is he correct?”
I stared at the King and shook my head. “I don’t know, Sir. But I know what I saw. Captain Loman saw him too.”
“I know,” the King sighed and lumbered to his feet. “I wish I could be so blessed as to see this magnificent man of the future who Captain Loman has described. Saint be willing that I live long enough to do so. Saint be willing that this boy live long enough to become that man.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Merakoma waits for him.” The King stepped over to the bed and gazed down at the boy. “You will take him there.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Captain Loman will give you a spaceplane and all the funds you need.”
“Of course, Sir.”
“As soon as he is able,” the King took Senya’s hand and studied it. “He has Lydia's hands, long fingers, and nails the same shape as hers. I used to say her hands were made for playing the piano although I don't think this boy would be much interested in piano.” He stroked Senya's hand. “Perhaps Merakoma can do more with him than I could. Perhaps they understand better what he is about.”
“Perhaps, Sir,” I replied.
“He'll come back. He will not abandon Mishnah.” The King spoke softly more to himself than to me. “Saint be willing.” Then, he left the room.
Two months later I flew Senya to the landing strip Tuman and Pedah had shown me more than half a year earlier. The boy sat straight, his eyes dimly lit with silver and his face bereft of color. He was tired and weak and leaned his head against the window nearly the entire flight. We debarked the speeder and were met by the princes. I left Senya in their care and turned to board the spaceplane that was waiting for me.
“Taner?” Senya called.
“What's the matter?” I turned back to find him walking toward me.
“Why don't you stay here?”
“Me? Live in Karupatani? I don't speak the language.” I said this with a smile as if it were a joke.
“I don't either,” Senya replied.
“You'll be fine. These guys are your family.”
“The last bunch of blokes was my family too. Did great there, eh?”
I put my hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze. “You’ll be alright, Senya. I know you will. My job is finished now.”
“No, it’s not, Taner,” he replied, and the light in his eyes got brighter. “You’ll be back. Remember? I told you that you will be that which you wish to be.”
“Sure,” I scoffed. “You want to tell me when that will happen?”
Senya appeared to think about it. “Twenty-five years maybe? Give or take a few.”
“Do you know the month and day too? I’ll mark it on my calendar.”
“We'll be able to use your freighter to ship the parts from Rozari,” he replied and swayed on his feet.
“I beg your pardon?” I put a hand on his shoulder and steadied him.
“What?”
“You said you’re going to use my freighter?”
“What freighter?”
“Senya,” I laughed. “You just told me you were going to use my freighter to ship parts from Rozari.”
“Rozari? I just got here. Now I've got to go to Rozari?”
“I don't know, Senya. I'm just repeating back what you said.”
For the first time in months, he smiled. “Will you go to Earth now, Taner?”
“Earth? I don't know. Where is that?”
“Will you take something there for me?” He held out his hand and in it appeared two chess pieces. They were marble and gold from the chess set in his suite back at the Palace; the same set he was forever check-mating me with.
“The black king and the white queen?” I took them from him and turned them over in my hand. On the bottom of each piece in gold leaf was his Eagle Coat of Arms. “Who am I supposed to bring these to?”
“You'll know when you get there.” His eyes flickered at me. “Goodbye Taner. Godspeed.”
“Be blessed, MaKennah,” I replied and then flew off to the future.
13
Tuman
The boy stood as the spaceplane turned aloft and headed into the sky. A moment later it disappeared yet the boy stood unmoving.
“What is he watching?” my brother asked, staring at the sky.
“He doesn't watch,” I replied. “The Mishak said he does not see.”
My brother nodded and looked around the valley.
“What are you looking at?” I asked.
“I don't know,” Pedah replied with a shrug yet his eyes continued to roam the hills and steppes and finally settled on the village.
“He controls your eyes!” I realized.
“Does he?” Pedah laughed. “Is that why I am staring at Diridan's young daughter?”
“Must be,” I said. “She is very fair but far too young for you. Come on.” I grabbed his arm, and we moved across the meadow to the boy.
He turned as we neared and appeared to gaze upon us with his silver eyes. He looked like our brother Sorkan although with pale skin and the Mishnese Princesses eyes. He was young, younger than I imagined, and I reminded myself he was not yet thirteen years.
“Welcome, MaKennah,” I said and then it was as if a warm fog settled in upon my mind for just a moment. My brother punched my arm and wakened me.
“Listen MaKennah,” my brother said and bent down to the boy's face. “You do not use these powers on us. You want to know something, you ask. You want to see something, we describe for you.”
The boy did not respond. His eyes flickered in Pedah's face.
“He doesn't speak Karupta,” I reminded my brother. “Shall I tell him in Mishnese?”
“He understands,” Pedah replied. “Come on, our father is waiting.” My brother started walking toward the village.
“How do you know?” I called after him but then looked over at the MaKennah. The boy's eyes were flickering at me now. To me he looked tired. He was very pale as if he were ill.
“You need to rest,” I told him in Mishnese. “Come change your clothing and meet our father and then you will lie down the rest of the day. You will come to pray with us tonight.”
T
he boy made no acknowledgment that he understood me but instead, turned his face to the wind which was warm this day and carried the scent of new leaves and grass. A hawk screamed and circled in the sky high above our heads. This made the boy smile. He would like our valley and this, his new home.
“Come MaKennah,” I said and moved to take his arm to guide him down the steppes. He cringed from my touch, so I let him be and headed alone after my brother. The boy followed me keeping his distance. “You will live in my house with my family,” I called back to him over my shoulder. “My wife is Garinka and we have a new son named Rekah. He is one year old and very clever. My brother Pedah will be your teacher. He teaches all the boys in the village. My father will teach you as well.”
I glanced back at the boy. He moved well for not having sight. I wondered if the Mishaks were wrong about this.
“Your mind speaks to me even if you do not wish it so,” the boy spoke in the Noble Mishnese.
“And this is how you see where to go?”
The boy nodded.
“What do you do when you are alone?”
“I remember from when I have come before.”
“And if you have never gone somewhere before?”
The boy shrugged.
We had reached the main road of the village. Our people were in the street watching us. It was strange how silent they were. I spied Diridan's daughter and her friends huddled in a circle. I watched them as they stared at the MaKennah and whispered behind their hands then I tore my eyes from them and saw that the MaKennah's pale face had turned pink. This was unnerving to me, this ability to guide my eyes and decide upon that which I would look. I resolved to speak again to my brother and perhaps our father about this.
Pedah was with my wife in front of my house. Garinka stepped back as we came to the door, a worried look upon her face. She did not wish for the MaKennah to live with us. Like many in our village, in Karupatani, she feared his presence. We knew how the Mishaks had tried to kill him yet we did not know the reasons why they would want to do so. There were some who thought perhaps he was evil or possessed of a wayward spirit. There were others that did not want him amongst us simply because he shared Mishnese blood. My father overruled his council and declared the boy would come to us and reside in my home and become brother to my son.
“They say he has killed Mishaks,” my wife had cried. “He has evil ways and strange powers. How can you allow him to be in the presence of your own infant boy?”
“How do you know all this? Do you watch the talking Mishak heads on the vid when I am not present? Still you must waste your time and attention on the trash that comes upon that screen. Have you not women in this village you can befriend and chat with instead? Have you not enough tasks to keep you busy such as tending your baby and cleaning this house? Surely there are new skills you may learn instead of listening to that nonsense.”
“I am only trying to protect my baby!” she wept. “And what if I watch the vid and see how the Mishaks live? Do you not think I should like to live in a real house with electricity and plumbing and drive a speeder and shop for goods? I am a Princess of Karupatani, and I must toil like a slave! At least I may watch the vid and dream of another place. Perhaps I may even be so fortunate to live there in my next life!”
She slammed the door, and I joined my brother at his solitary table for dinner that night.
“Your room is upstairs,” I said to the MaKennah, leading him past my wife’s sour face and up to the small bedroom we had built for him. Lying upon the bed were leggings, tunics, belts, and shoes that Garinka and the village women had sewn.
“You must change your clothing,” I told him. “You must dress like a Karupta now.” The boy removed his sash, and I took it and handed it to Garinka who now hovered near the door, Rekah propped upon her hip. She had never felt a silk so fine as this though I recalled such a luxury from when my brother had married the Mishnese Princess, and I had touched and stroked the fine silks and gold that adorned his costume. Garinka held the silk to her cheek and turned away from me so I would not see the pleasure upon her face. Rekah too put his tiny hand upon it.
“Mine,” he said.
“No, not yours,” I corrected.
“Might I keep it?” Garinka whispered, though her back was still to me.
“If it be the MaKennah’s will,” I replied and turned toward the boy to ask this of him when I was struck dumb. He had taken off his shirt and was putting on the tunic but before he was covered I saw what the Mishaks had done to him. He had long scars from bullet wounds and welts from having been beaten. Garinka saw this too and her face went pale. She reached for my arm and pulled me outside the door.
“See you now! It is as I have said. Why would they have done that to a child unless he is evil? I do not want him in my house. I do not want him near my baby.” Great tears appeared in my wife’s eyes, and Rekah looked upon her face with alarm.
“He is not evil,” I said sternly. “And this is my house.”
“How do you know what he is? You have never seen him before this day?”
“Keep your voice down,” I snapped. “He can hear you.”
“He doesn't speak Karupta, you said so yourself.” Her eyes turned behind me to the boy who stood in the doorway, his silver eyes flickering upon us.
“You are welcome here, MaKennah.” I glared at my wife until she bowed her head. “Come now, let us take you before my father.”
My father studied the MaKennah for a very long time as the boy made obeisance before him. My brother and I shifted about on our feet though the boy did not move. It was only after many moments had passed and my father and the boy still remained frozen that my brother finally spoke.
"Father? What do you watch for such a long time?"
"Ay yah," my father said waving his hand about the boy's head. He paused his hand as if catching the air and then studied it as if something lay therein. I glanced at my brother. I saw nothing but my father's empty palm. My brother winked at me.
"You do not see?" My father turned to the both of us, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
We shook our heads. My brother smiled. We thought our father was imagining things.
"Arise, child," my father said, and the boy sat back on his haunches and narrowed his eyes so that only a small sliver of silver light shone through. My father reached to touch the boy's face, but the boy shirked away.
“He does not like to be touched,” I said.
My father nodded and spoke to him. "You know what I see." The boy opened his eyes wider and a beam of silver light shone upon my father’s face. "It is a wondrous thing. We are blessed beyond measure. We will care for you and heal you so you will grow and become that which you have been sent here to be. Tuman, take him home and put him to bed. He is not well. Go now. I must go to the Temple and pray on this."
"On what?" I asked.
My father looks at his empty hands and smiled. "This miracle."
My brother rolled his eyes.
The boy stayed in his room at my house for more than a week. The doctor had brought him strengthening herbs and Garinka made him soups and soon the color came back to his cheeks and the light shone from his eyes much brighter than before. In this week, he learned to speak Karupta, answering us in our own language when we spoke to him although his words were few. At the end of the second week, my father declared that the MaKennah would come to pray with us, and we would bleed him.
“Have we not been waiting for him to recover so now we must injure him again like the Mishaks?” I asked.
“We will take only a little,” my father replied. “We do not injure him, we honor him. He knows this. When he is an adult, you will need to do this often.” He looked pointedly at my brother and I as if to remind us that he would not live forever. “He will be very powerful when he is fully grown. He will be a danger to himself and to Rehnor. There will be times when you must weaken him.”
“You make no sense father,” Pedah said. “First you te
ll us he is a miracle sent to us to save Rehnor, and now you tell us he will destroy it?”
My father shook his head sending his long grey plaits and beard trembling. “I am not privy to the secrets of the future. I only tell you that which Karukan has written. The MaKennah knows about this. He understands what he must do and why."
"And how do you know that?" my brother scoffed. "Has he been more generous with his words to you?"
My father smiled. "It is all in the book.”
My brother rolled his eyes again.
That night during our worship, the MaKennah joined us, and we did hold the first of our bleeding ceremonies. I cannot say that he was surprised by it. Perhaps my father was correct in that he did know what was to happen. He knelt before us with resignation, a frown upon his face. The Mishaks had done much to hurt him, and I feared he thought that we were the same. He waited patiently and impassively as we each tasted his blood, which caused a strange sensation in me. For a moment I felt as if I could do anything I wished. As if I could wave my hands and all would do my bidding. It was only for a moment, but my brother told me he felt the same way. How curious it would be to feel like this all the time.
The MaKennah joined the other boys of our village in their lessons shortly after that. He was taught the skills of fighting with light swords, the one weapon our people had retained from our ancient days of glory when Karukan still walked this land. Our chiefs held on to the secret knowledge of creating a laser that could be swung about at will, turning whatever it touched to dust. The Mishaks had this weapon too, but ours were far superior in strength and were lighter to carry and thus even our youngest men could fight. My brother and I had decided against teaching the MaKennah sword fighting. Without sight, he might swing the weapon erratically and cause irreparable damage or death. Our father overruled us, and himself placed the light sword in the boy’s hand, bidding him to swing and strike the one held in my own.
The MaKennah studied the instrument for a moment, switching the hilt to his left hand and hefting it about, turning it off and on. Then without warning, he struck at my weapon knocking it loose from my hand whereupon it fell to the ground and turned itself off.
