by Khalid Uddin
Bo’az realized he would have to leave his things at the camp in order to get away without waking Baltaszar. He’d hoped Baltaszar wouldn’t take any of his clothes or food, but he had to take the chance if he wanted to get back to the farm. If he was still there when his brother woke, they would only end up fighting and arguing again, and neither of them would get anywhere. If Baltaszar wanted to go farther into the forest and wander around, Bo’az wouldn’t stop him.
Evening had set in, and the sky continued to darken. Before setting off, Bo’az grabbed his black hooded cloak out of his pack and pulled it over his head. It was just like Baltaszar’s, a full length woolen cloak with pockets at the waist, in the sleeves, and lining the insides; thick enough for the cool mountain nights.
As Bo’az walked through the forest toward Haedon, he remembered how they’d made the cloaks once Oran Van confined their father to the property. Even though he and his brother were still allowed to leave their farm, they preferred to draw as little attention to themselves as possible. Most townspeople glared at them, cursed, or were even brave enough to throw rocks, apples, bread, or any other handy projectiles at them.
In truth, Bo’az had used his cloak often to sneak away from his brother and father as well. Often, he felt the need to be alone and think about what the future held for them.
After the incident with the Samson girl, Bo’az had a feeling that the three of them would be in for a lot of change. His father, on too many occasions, would sit staring off into nothing. Then, once he’d snapped out of his daze, he’d forget what he’d been doing. His father just seemed sad all the time, as if he’d been holding in more problems and emotions than a human body could contain.
Baltaszar, on the other hand, rarely showed any emotion. Bo’az could never really tell whether their father’s conviction and house arrest bothered him, or if he was just holding it all in. Baltaszar never talked about any of it unless Bo’az brought it up first.
Bo’az had always supposed that Baltaszar talked to Yasaman about his thoughts. They’d been together since just after Carys Joben’s kitchen burned down. Baltaszar would go off to see her nearly every day, sometimes not returning until nearly sunrise. Supposedly, her father hadn’t approved of Baltaszar, but Baltaszar always managed to sneak into her bedroom once her parents fell asleep. It only made sense that Baltaszar would have confided everything in her, which made it stranger still when she stopped talking to him. But that was just another thing that Baltaszar never talked about. I would’ve made it work, even if her father didn’t approve.
Bo’az wished he and Baltaszar had talked more, especially with everything they’d been through in the past few years. After the incident at the Joben home, he’d obviously lost his chance to be with Lea Joben. It also ruined the chance to marry any woman in Haedon. Why wasn’t Yasaman afraid to be with Baltaszar? Maybe she was, and that was why she left him. Or maybe he just did something stupid to anger her. Despite all those hours he’d run off to think about things by himself, Bo’az still had no idea about what to do now. His home seemed like a good start.
As he walked on in the dark, Bo’az could see the forest beginning to thin out. He could decipher faint torches outside people’s homes at the edge of the woods. It was early enough that people might be awake, so he’d have to be careful walking to the farm. Stepping out from the trees, Bo’az turned right and headed to the eastern edge of Haedon. He would walk the perimeter of Elmer Guff’s farm to get to his own, which didn’t figure to be a problem considering that Guff was too old to be out at this time. He was probably asleep. Guff was a quiet, meek man who kept to himself. Age had been getting the best of him the past few years, but he refused to give up the farm to move to any of his children’s houses. Three of his sons and two grandsons would come over every morning to take care of the farm animals and any chores that needed to be done.
Bo’az stayed along the high wooden fence around the farm to make himself less visible, careful with every footstep not to wake the sheep and horses that slept in the stables and pens. No one would be walking this way, as it was the outermost part of the town, but there was no need to take any chances. He turned left at the southeastern corner on the shorter side of the farm, where two giant oaks stood side by side to mark the edge of Haedon. There were farms to his left, forest and mountains to his right, mud beneath his feet, and silence everywhere. After close to another quarter mile of grass and mud, Bo’az could finally see the edges of his own farm.
Bo’az hadn’t realized it had rained so badly last night. It soaked everything. The path had turned to a thick layer of mud. Every time he took a step, his feet were sucked into the ground and he would have to pull them out, resulting in a loud ‘pop’ and splash. From the fence, Bo’az could see the horse stables he’d tended for so many years. The fence consisted of three horizontal wooden beams in each segment, supported by thick wooden posts driven deep into the ground, and tall enough so that no horse could jump over it. This also made it easy to climb over or through. As Bo’az climbed the beams and flung himself over, a thought struck him. The only good thing about the accusations against his father was that everyone was afraid of the Kontez family. That was most likely the only reason people didn’t sneak on the farm to terrorize them and cause trouble.
He could see in the distance that the house still stood, and it seemed intact from what he could tell. Bo’az hesitated. I wanted so badly to come back here. So why am I so afraid to go in? Orijin, I beg you, please don’t let there be anyone in the house. He ran as fast as the mud would allow. The splashing and sloshing awoke the few remaining horses, but he chanced it that that wouldn’t be enough to alarm anyone nearby. Racing faster and faster, he slid to the front of the house, his arms flailing wildly to keep him upright. Bo’az skidded to a halt right in front of the three steps that led up the porch and to the front door.
Bo’az held his breath as he opened the creaky wooden front door. Pitch blackness completely covered the room. He walked cautiously, leading with his left hand. He could navigate the entire house from memory, but that was assuming everything was where it was supposed to be. He had snuck off enough that returning home in the dark had become a habit. The front room was where his father would relax after working all day, on the cushioned wooden rocker he’d made himself, smoking his pipe or reading a book. Or just sitting there.
Bo’az saw it all in his mind as he felt his way through the blackness. He walked toward the doorway at the back of the room, dragging his hand along the sofa on his right. It seemed that the house remained untouched. He opened the door at the back of the room and walked up the stairs. Some of them had been creaky from years of Baltaszar and him running up and down, and he knew which ones to skip. He climbed the stairs cautiously and quietly, yet didn’t know why. The same gut feeling also made him refrain from lighting candles or torches. He skipped the top step, the loudest one, and stepped onto the second floor, where their bedrooms were.
Baltaszar’s room lay directly in front of him, the door wide open. He glanced at it and thought he heard the slightest whisper from inside. Bo’az stepped into the doorway and darted his eyes around for any human shadows in the light from the windows. Nothing. Silence. It was most likely the wind. He left the room and continued toward his own bedroom, next to Baltaszar’s.
Bo’az turned the knob and cracked open the door, wary that someone might be waiting or watching. Peering into the room, he ensured he was safe, and walked in. The moonlight’s glow through the window helped him see the entire room. No one. Just silence. Bo’az walked to the side of his bed and sat at its edge, then removed his cloak and kicked off his boots. It had been so long since he’d felt something so comfortable. Remembering that he’d left his belongings in the forest, he walked to his closet on the other side of the room to find some new clothes to change into.
He buried his head in the closet to find clean pants and shirts and felt something grasp his shoulder. Bo’az sprang violently, crashing into the shelf abov
e him. He doubled over in pain, swaying in a daze. The pain in his head throbbed so that he almost couldn’t hear the voice behind him.
“I’m sorry,” the voice said softly, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
That voice. Familiar. It was so unexpected that he doubted he’d heard correctly. Bo’az slowly straightened himself to see the voice’s owner, still in a daze. But before he could lift his head, a hand cupped the nape of his neck and pulled him forward. Soft, moist lips met his and kissed him passionately. Yasaman. It’s Yasaman! And she’s kissing me! A second hand reached around him and pulled his body closer. After what seemed like hours, Bo’az forced himself to pull away, finally realizing that he’d been kissing back, and stared at her. She’s so beautiful.
A hint of horror tinged her countenance. “Oh my goodness, I’m sorry Bo, I thought you were Tasz!”
What? No, that’s not fair. “I am Tasz!” Wait, what am I saying?
“Bo’az, I can tell the difference between the two of you. It isn’t difficult, considering there’s no black scar running down your face.”
No. If she doesn’t want Bo’az, then I can be Baltaszar. Why is he the only one who gets to be happy? “No. No, really. The scar has been gone for weeks. I don’t know how, but it went away.” He’s not coming back. He’ll never see her again anyway.
She sat on the bed with a sigh. “How? How does a scar like that just disappear? You’ve had the thing for as long as I’ve known you. Something like that doesn’t just disappear! Bo, if this is some stupid trick, please stop now. We don’t have the time for it, and I’m too tired to argue.”
“Trust me, Yas. It’s me, Baltaszar. Really. I left Bo back in the forest. He was too afraid of being caught to come back here.” Work. Please work. “I don’t know why or how the scar is gone, but over the past few weeks, it just faded away.”
“Fine. But if you’re lying, I’ll make sure that there’s no way to confuse the two of you ever again.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’ll kill you.”
“Oh. Um, sure.” Oh God, what’ve I done?
“And where have you and Bo’az been? No one has seen you two in weeks! I thought you both ran off to get as far away from here as possible! I only came here because I’d prayed to Orijin that there was a remote chance you might come back after last night.”
“We’re staying in the forest south of the village, a couple miles into it so no one will spot us. It wasn’t safe for you to come here, though.”
“Look, my parents don’t know I’m here. By morning though, they’ll realize that I’m gone, and I’m sure this is the first place they’ll look. I needed to see you,” she said. “I felt so horrible pushing you away, but it wasn’t my choice. They forced me to do it! They threatened to marry me off to Garrick Mol right away if I didn’t!”
Bo’az interjected. “Garrick Mol? The banker? The man is more than twice our age! Is money that important to them?”
“Tasz, I’m sorry! I know we haven’t seen each other in so long and we don’t have a plan about what we’ll do and we’ll have to leave Haedon forever, but I couldn’t face living the way my parents want me to. I need you.”
Bo’az walked over to her and took her hand in his. “Calm down Yas, calm down. We’ll figure something out. It’ll be fine.” That’s something Tasz would’ve said, I think.
“Calm down? Calm down? I just gave up my life here for you, Tasz! The first thing my parents are going to do in the morning is have this whole property torn down to find me! If we’re still here, you’ll be dead and I’ll be the slave wife of Garrick Mol! And if we’re not here, they’ll comb the forest and mountains to find me! And the best you can say is ‘calm down?’ We need to get out of here and get a head start to make sure we’re not found!”
“I’m sorry; I’m sorry, it’s just that this is all so sudden…I came here planning to get some clothes and supplies for me and Ba…Bo’az. Let’s just take a second and figure out how to get out of here and what we need to take.” He sat on the bed next to her.
Yasaman laid back on the bed, her feet resting on Bo’az’s lap. “You’re right…I’ve been so wound up lately, it would be best to take a little while to think things through. I assumed you’d want to just get out of Haedon as quickly as me. You’ve always been just as whimsical as me. I guess so much has changed since your fa…in the past few weeks.”
“You don’t have to avoid it. I know my father’s dead. Nothing will change that now. That’s part of the reason why I’m here. I needed to come back and be around all this one last time. It makes it so much more real.”
Yasaman looked on the verge of sleep, getting comfortable in his bed, her eyes fighting to stay open. “Were you in the Square last night?” she paused to yawn. “I couldn’t bring myself to go, but I had a nervous feeling you might go and try to save him. I heard a fire broke out. Many were hurt and killed. They blamed that on your father as well.”
“I didn’t go. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. And now I feel guilty about hiding in the forest while it happened.” She didn’t have to know what Baltaszar really did. Bo’az really did feel guilty about not going now, and at least he could let it all out.
“I’m glad you can finally open up to me. For so long, I felt something was wrong with me because you’d never admit that anything bothered you. But maybe everything is different now.” She sat up and kissed him again.
Bo’az seized the opportunity and kissed her back more vigorously. This was wrong. She led him closer with one hand until he lay on top of her slender frame. I…I can’t do this. I’ve got to tell her. She pulled him closer, more tightly. Bo’az pulled away, “Yasaman, I can’t d…”
A thunderous voice boomed from the front of the house. “Baltaszar Kontez! Come out! We saw you enter the house!”
Bo’az froze. Yasaman’s eyes popped open, no sign of drowsiness left in them. He put his finger to his lips. Perhaps the men were bluffing. There was no way he would just walk out of the house and give himself up.
The thundering voice continued, “Baltaszar! We mean you no harm! My name is Linas Nasreddine; I have come with my two acquaintances from afar! We were sent here to help you escape and to protect you!”
Linas Nasreddine. That wasn’t a name that Bo’az had ever heard before. Ducking out of view from anything outside, he glanced over at Yasaman. Her expression was difficult to decipher, but she shook her head as well, equally confused. Whether he could really trust them, Bo’az wasn’t sure. But he knew eventually they would come inside and check it for themselves, and if that was the case, things could get violent and careless very quickly in the dark. Bo’az put up a hand toward Yasaman, implying for her to stay put, then cautiously crept out of the room and down the hall to the left. He had to calculate every footstep, as most of the upstairs floor creaked. While he tiptoed to the window facing the front yard, the wooden floor let out a massive groan at his last step before the window. Diving from in front of the window, he knew he’d reacted too late. Damn it!
A gravelly voice exposed him, “I saw him up there Linas!”
“Baltaszar!” Linas repeated. “Look out the window, my friend! You have nothing to fear! We have no weapons drawn. We do not look or dress like the people of your village; we are not trying to kill you. The longer you wait the more danger you will face. Again, my name is Linas Nasreddine. I have come to save your life.” Linas’ voice now seemed pleading.
Why is it always Baltaszar? Why couldn’t they be looking for me? Bo’az, huddled beneath the window, arose to see for himself. He scanned the front yard, noticing that only one man stood on the porch, while two others stood as far back as the fence, all in plain sight, not trying to hide. They were larger men than any he’d seen in Haedon. The one closest to the house, Linas Nasreddine, seemed the biggest of the three. All wore long coats with high collars hiding their faces and any armor or weapons they might be carrying beneath.
Realizing he’d been standing with h
is mouth agape the whole time, Bo’az finally found something to say. “Even if you’re not from Haedon, how do I know I can trust you? Do you think I’m stupid enough to believe three strange men who show up on my father’s farm in the middle of the night? Give me a reason to believe you. Prove to me that I can trust you.”
“We were sent by someone else to find you, Baltaszar. We are simply messengers for a greater man. He had hoped that your father would have educated you about the world long ago, and that you would seek him out. But he has waited long enough. With your father’s passing, the time has come for you to understand the world beyond your town.”
Could it be? Could there really be a connection between Father and their master? What if Baltaszar was right? “What are you talking about? What is beyond this town?”
“Baltaszar, you are quite a special young man. Our master has known about you for a long, long time. There are things outside of Haedon that depend on you. My master simply wishes to guide you and protect you.”
What was that name Baltaszar said? Damn it, what was it? “Who is this master of yours and how does he know about me? Is his name Da…Darian? Is it Darian that you’re talking about?”
Linas paused, and then turned to look at one of the men behind him. The man nodded approvingly, and Linas turned back and looked directly up at Bo’az. “Yes my friend. We answer to Darian. At least your father mentioned something to you. Now please, come down. If we really meant harm, we would have just broken into the house and attacked you.”
Maybe it should have just been Baltaszar here instead of me. What am I doing? If he had just come with me, this wouldn’t be so difficult. And now he’s off on his own, trying to find Darian, when these men are willing to take him right to Darian. Fool.
