10. People of the verdance

We don't have time to think about love right now

This is an installment in a serialized novel. To start at the beginning, go here.

It was dark when Hal and Oweth reached the main house, but the windows shone with candlelight– unusual for harvest season. Normally everyone trudged in at sunset, swallowed some food, and fell into bed before the dusky light faded.

“Mother must be waiting up for us.” Hal glanced at Oweth. The boy was putting one foot after another, head hung low, barely awake.

As they approached the door of the sprawling, flat-roofed building, they could hear animated voices within. Not just Mother? Hal hadn’t thought they were returning late enough to cause much alarm.

Hal swung the door open and cool air washed over him, along with good smells lingering from dinner. He ushered Oweth into a room abuzz with activity. Everyone was there– Mother and Father, Hal’s grandmother, his older brothers Broan, Selip, and Esath, his older sisters Mishath and Piria, and his younger sister Semamra. Broan’s wife Karila was there too, talking animatedly with Mother. Mishath’s husband Kraio was nodding off in a corner while she chased after their children.

Only Esath seemed to notice right away when Hal and Oweth came in, greeting Hal with his usual disapproving expression. It looked a little comical on his young face–Esath had a way of forgetting he was only a year and a half older than Hal–but Hal was too tired to find it either amusing or annoying tonight.

“Where have you been? You were supposed to be tying the sheaves for Kraio, but you never showed up, and… what happened to you?”

Hal sighed, looking down at himself. His shirt was nearly shredded, stained with blood on one side, and he was filthy from head to toe, despite his attempt to wash his face and hands in an irrigation canal on the way. “It’s… a long story, Esath. I’ll tell you after I’ve had something to eat.”

Oweth had drifted half-consciously toward Mother, who turned with a cry from her conversation with Karila to fuss over the boy. Hal could hear Oweth trying to explain in a breathless rush.

“...and we went in the cave, and there was no way out, but we found a magic fire, and a giant bear was there, its name was Athra! I thought it was going to eat us, but it told us a poem…”

“Hush, child.” She hugged him close, grimacing at the dirt that fell from his hair. “You can tell me all about it tomorrow. Tonight you need dinner, a bath, and bed. Semamra! Come get your brother washed and fed.” Semamra straightened up, nearly a head taller than Oweth, and shuffled the boy off with an air of importance.

Hal’s mother shot him a stern look, and he braced himself for her questioning. But before she reached him, she was drawn back into discussion with Karila.

Piria stepped in front of him, white teeth shining in a playful grin. She wore a simple, practical robe in natural colors–she’d been in the fields today, too– but there was the colorful headscarf as always, and copper hoops dangled from her ears. She pinched a tattered corner of his shirt between her fingers. “You know, the idea of harvest is to cut the wheat, not your shirt, my dear brother.” She let the fabric drop, then gasped. “Is that blood? Are you okay? What happened?”

Hal smiled wearily. “I’m fine, Piria, really–or at least I will be. It’s a long story… But what’s going on here? Was everyone waiting up for us?”

Piria gave a look of mock reproof. “Not everything is about you, Hal. In fact, all this fuss is about me. I am getting married.”

Hal was about to congratulate her, but his mother interrupted. “That’s not decided yet, Piria. We’ll see what your father thinks. Ooh, what a time for this! Surely they could have waited until after harvest. We don’t have time to think about love right now, let alone plan a wedding feast!”

“I don’t see what there is to think about,” said Piria. “I like him, so I’ll marry him.”

“Yes, I know you like the boy,” Karila edged in, “but what about the family? His father… he may have good land, but there’s just… something disturbing about him! I’ve never cared for wellers– they’re all a bit odd.”

“I’m not planning to marry the father– I’m planning to marry the son. And I must say the son is pretty good looking–don’t you agree, Nana?” Piria flashed a grin across the room. Hal’s grandmother chuckled from where she sat along the wall.

“The girl has a point,” she replied in her unhurried way of speaking, voice crackly but still melodic. “Where else are we going to find a boy good looking enough to marry Piria?”

Piria beamed. “We’ll have the same trouble with you, Hal.” She nudged him playfully. “We’ll have to send a search party to the edge of the plains to find a match for you.”

Hal smiled and shook his head, flushing slightly.

“I don’t like him either,” added Esath, nodding seriously to Karila. “Why can’t Piria marry into an ordinary farming family? It’s not natural to spend that much time underground.”

Only Hal’s brother Selip was silent, observing the discussion with keen, dark eyes from where he sat in the corner. But all grew quiet as Hal’s father rose from his seat near the hearth, unlit now in the warm days of late summer. He rose slowly–even he had labored in the harvest today–but his eyes were bright. He stroked his whitening beard thoughtfully before he spoke.

“You have spent the day at harvest. But did you see the grain that you cut–tall and golden after a season almost without rain? And have you stood at the edge of the verdance and looked out on the wild plains, dry and burnt by the sun? Do you feel the air, always cool and fresh in this house even in the heat of day? Did you drink deeply today and wash the dust from your face without carrying a bucket? Did you eat bread tonight, baked from grain that you did not grind with your hands? Do you forget how this is possible?”

He lifted his own weathered hand, examining it. “The blood of my body flows through my veins. It gives life to every part of me. In the same way, all that we have, our ancient way of life on these plains, comes from the water beneath the ground. The knowledge and skill of the wellers permits this. Without them, our lands would wither and die, and we with them. And why do you think the latecomers, the Veyta, with their pride and their skill in warfare, have not driven us out or killed all Enedram in this land? With all their strange magic, they fear the evils of the earth. They have not learned to harness the power of the water beneath. This knowledge is our greatest treasure, passed down from master to apprentice since ancient times.

“We have no weller in our family since my brother died. Selip’s apprenticeship was cut short, and he has not learnt the ways. We must not be shortsighted.” He paused, stroking his beard again. The room was silent, candlelight flickering across attentive faces. “If Piria is willing, let her marry the boy.” And he sat again, as slowly as he had risen.

Piria winked at Hal and sighed. “I suppose if Father thinks it’s best for the family, I’ll marry him.”

Hal’s grandmother cheered, and the noise resumed all at once. His mother looked disgruntled but had already begun to list the tasks that would need to be done to prepare for the banquet. Hal turned to Piria, but she was engaged in an energetic discussion with Mishath about the wedding. Mishath had apparently given up on chasing her children–now one of them was surreptitiously eating something that she had hidden in her dress, while the other had begun gleefully fingerpainting lines of soot on Kraio’s sleeping face.

No one seemed to notice when Hal drifted away, trying to decide whether he wanted to eat, sleep, or wash most. Everyone seemed to have forgotten about him and his tattered shirt, and Hal didn’t mind– he had no idea how he was going to explain what had happened, and tonight he was too tired to figure it out.