Aur Child

Bemko-Tiul applied his walnut-sized knuckles as gently as he could against the wooden door. Speak proper, he reminded himself. Despite his efforts, he saw through the window that the resultant rapping jolted Gallia-Tiul from her meditations.

“Come.” She spoke in a voice that sounded as if it hadn’t been used for many hours.

Bemko pushed the door open and stooped his head to enter the apartment.

“Oh, Bemko. It’s you! I had hoped you’d come.” She smiled pleasantly and pushed herself up from the table. “It’s very nice of you to visit me.”

“Well, I was only comin’ – ahem – coming because you asked me to.” He removed his floppy sun hat and stepped in further, presenting a mudra high above the tiny woman; leglike forearms connected to platelike hands. “Alai’s boy had said you wanted to see me. I hope I’m not… disturbing?”

“Certainly not!” Gallia had already reached her feet and stepped towards him with her two hands reached out. She grabbed a thick finger from each hand like oars in a boat and guided him to the largest chair in her tiny abode. “This one should suit you.” She exhaled.

Bemko’s tense shoulders relaxed with the cool indoor temperatures and calm words of his clan elder. The low ceiling and narrow walls surrounded him like a cradle. A heavy green awning blocked all direct sunlight from entering the window overlooking the harbor and bathed the room in a marine hue that made Gallia’s black skin glow. He noticed the jars of herbs and seeds lined neatly along the shelf near the sink.

He lifted his head for a breath of a thought. In nearly every way, they were different, their contrasts going far beyond the physical. Where she analyzed, he shrugged off with a quip. Where she observed discipline, he slipped to please. Yet she had always been kind to him. A kindness for which he knew not how to assemble his gratitude into words.

He had likely trolled the restaurants and market stands like any of the others among the ship’s rowdy crew in the hours preceding his accident. Perhaps he had even sang salacious songs in the pubs or argued with the locals about better sources of salted fish. He would never know. His memories from before the injury that ended his escapades at sea and brought him to occupy the small cottage that once housed Alai’s parents were few and fleeting. They came with a random word or a scent of a flower in the forest. And as fast as they arrived, they usually disappeared before what was left of his wits could append that new memory to the collection he had managed to assemble after all these years.

Gallia returned to a bench beside the table she had occupied before Bemko’s arrival. She slid the thin scriptleaf away, its surface, he noticed, glowing dully with a sketch of a flower and words about herbal tinctures. She placed her hand around the mug of water that stood on the table, its condensation soaking the patterned tablecloth beneath it.

“You are healthy? She asked.

“I am.” He replied.

“That’s good,” she said. “There have been several people fallen terribly ill today and no explanation to it. It’s run me ragged trying to find the cause.”

Bemko noticed his earlier comfort fade away. Even a feeble mind recognized an inquiry. He could not help feeling indirectly guilty. He had considered several times whether he should relay what the boy had told him about the strange box to Gallia, but he had convinced himself that it was none of his business, and that Alai would handle it himself. Now, he began to worry if his procrastination had made him complicit in whatever it was Gallia was asking. He fumbled his fingers around before muttering, “Naw, I’m fine.”

“You have collected much water in the rains?”

“I have.”

She offered a smile and shining eyes. Bemko looked around at what might be amusing.

“Sometimes in your words,” she said, as Bemko shifted awkwardly in his seat, “it is evident that you retain the terse speaking habits of your northland heritage.”

“If it bothers you, I apologize.”

“Oh no. It doesn’t bother me. I like to hear the different sounds of many voices.” She pointed to the harbor where merchant ships came and went and with them, countless sailors who brought their voices to the village. “It helps us all to have a view from the outside. To see things differently. No, I am happy you are here with us, Bemko. Please always know that.”

She smiled at him with eyes that might cry with care if they hadn’t been sapped by so many decades of heat and drought. Bemko smiled awkwardly in return. He reached down to adjust his seat, clearing his throat.

“Would you like some water, Bemko?”

“Naw, I have plenty, thank you.”

“Very well, and what of your plants? How do they fare?”

“Oh, they’re all very well, thank you,” he said. “You know, I try not to talk about them so as not to upset people.”

“Yes, I know.” She replied. “It’s very clever of you. A shame really, that people are so reluctant to new things.” She shook her head and pushed the mug along the tablecloth, wetting more of it with her action. “It’s why we agreed that you should be part of the Tiul clan, you know. Because the others can be so strict, and it was felt that your condition required some flexibility. We must all abide by Our Order, but I have become more tolerant in my old age, even with those who find that difficult.”

Bemko recalled those awkward days long ago when they had sought a home for him.

“Of course, he can stay with us,” Alai had told Gallia-Tiul when the dilemma was first mentioned. “My parents’ cottage has been empty for years; it’s just about big enough for him. And the greenhouse has been too much for us to manage ever since they left on their losting. The village will benefit by an increase to its productivity.”

So, Gallia had invited Bemko to join her clan. He remembered how warmly Alai’s little family had embraced him when others didn’t know what to do with him, when he was as much a stranger to himself as he was to others. He had been overjoyed with his new home, especially the greenhouse.

“Oh, and for that I’m truly grateful.” Bemko replied with a straightened back and a confident look into Gallia’s eyes to imbue sincerity. “You know, there’s no harm in those new plants I create, even if folks say they’re funny. I tested ’em all myself and never got upset. Of course, only Alai ever uses them besides me …and of course the sailors when they come ashore. You know what one of ’em told me?”

“And what was that?”

Bemko noticed that he had started to ramble but had no choice except to answer her.

“Well, just that they’d been asking in the Red Kingdom to come and get those red flowers I’ve been growing.”

“The flowers that taste like citrus?”

“Yup, them.”

“Ah, those were such a clever innovation, Bemko. It takes so much more water to grow regular citrus.” She squeezed her eyes at him, and then, “But perhaps people are wary because Our Order says we should drink water with citrus for our health?”

“Yes,” he grunted. “Perhaps.”

“Yet, Alai and his family like them, you said.”

“Oh yes, they don’t mind them at all. Alai even says they don’t bite as much as an old citrus.”

Gallia smiled. “I’m sure he does like them very much. He certainly has an interest in new things.” She paused, before continuing, “What else has he shared with you lately?”

Bemko searched for a neutral way out of this line of questioning, but the options were slim.

“Oh well, he reminded me the other night of a children’s song that I heard as a boy but none of you sing here. Like that, you mean?”

“Probably not that, Bemko. Anything else you want to tell me about?”

Bemko crunched his hat in his hands. He had been shown nothing but affection by Alai-Tiul and his family. He had shared the flaw of inquisitiveness in their respective ways with him and endured the contempt of villagers in a quiet brotherhood. They had supported one another when others would shun them. Moreover, they understood one another. Neither meant any harm, nor did any harm come from their so-called meddling, and so they quietly overlooked the other’s minor infractions. It even seemed that, to a great extent, Gallia-Tiul overlooked their meddling. By doing so, they had never been asked to reveal what the other might be doing. Until now.

“You needn’t be nervous,” Gallia said in a nonchalant tone. “I already know he has it. The boy told me earlier today. We usually don’t speak of them. We keep them hidden for everyone’s safety, but I know I can trust you to keep a secret, Bemko. It’s called an Aur child.” She rotated her hand on the table so that it pointed to the scriptleaf. “Perhaps you have heard the name from Our Order? It is very precious to us. I might have already gone to retrieve it, but for now we believe it is safer there while we search for a new place to hide it.” She reached over and patted his knee. “No Apostate would dare to steal it with a powerful man like you so near.”

Bemko let out a breath of relief. He combed his fingers through the blond locks that covered his head and then shifted his hat to his other hand. “Well, I don’t know nothing about any Aur child. The boy just said it was a power cell of some kind. And I haven’t seen anyone sneaking around, nor any ’postates, whatever those are. But what then is it you want to know, Elder Tiul?”

She leaned forward now, her posture for the first time revealing a keen interest in Bemko’s words.

“What is he doing with it, Bemko. That is what I would like to know.”

Bemko smiled. His cheeks reddened.

“Aw, he’s just curious, that’s all. Sure, he doesn’t know it’s an Aur child. Well, I thought we were the Aur children?”

“We are. We all are. But…,” she turned her head and looked at Bemko from the corner of her eyes, “can I tell you something that you must not share with anyone else?”

“Of course, you can, Elder Tiul.”

“That is a special Aur child. One that cannot fend for itself, like you and me, so it must be protected. Indeed, to do so, the elders of this village agreed long ago to keep them hidden. It is my responsibility. And for that, I’ve failed.”

“Failed? But didn’t you just say that the Aur child was safe?”

“That one is, yes, but two others have been lost. In that storm the other night.”

“Oh,” Bemko said, and then, in a mutter, “…the great green glow.”

Gallia seemed not to hear him very well. “What did you say?” she asked.

“Aw, nothing. It was only words from that children’s song I mentioned. Alai had told me he -”

Gallia interrupted him. “Well, you need not worry about them, Bemko. You know,” she said, with a smile curling one side of her mouth, “we originally intended that Alai would keep you safe. But now it seems to be the other way around.”

“Oh, am I not safe, Elder Tiul?”

“Oh no, that’s not what I meant. Look, Bemko, I will ask Alai to return the Aur child to me on his own accord. I am sure he will, but it is important that no one thinks he is trying to keep it. Perhaps you can also encourage him to return it as well. But until he does, please keep a sharp eye out, will you? I know I can trust you to protect Alai, his family, and the secret of the Aur child, yes?”

“Yes, Elder Tiul.”