The Children of Calm (11 page)

“I already feel refreshed,” Tresten said. “The old frass is gone.”

Rylek laughed. Selenor rolled her eyes. Lana shook her head. “Don’t be crude,” she said. “And you know he means well. I know it’s hard for you to believe, but some people actually enjoy talking to others.”

“That’s taukish,” Tresten said. “Sometimes I think he just likes the sound of his own voice. And there’s nothing like laying a guilt trip on us: ‘
The people of Calm have invested much in you
.’ What if I refuse because I’m terrified of speaking in front of people?”

“Since when have you been terrified of opening your mouth? Are you afraid your foot will automatically be drawn inside that gaping hole?” Lana asked.

“Ha ha. You know I don’t like speaking in front of crowds. Besides, it was a rhetorical question,” Tresten said.

“I don’t understand how you can be so grumpy on your own birthday,” Lana said, shaking her head.

***

Not long afterwards, Kelni brought them steaming mugs of peppernut tea. By now the entire village was again on the lakefront, and most had found places to sit. Penephoni sat down on Selenor’s left, Clarina was on Lana’s right side, and Faltir sat next to his wife. Caenar was standing in front of his chair, and after a moment raised his arms. “My dear friends,” he said, “if I may ask us all to find our seats, we shall begin in just a moment.”

There was some last minute shuffling as people were quieting and settling in their seats. Finally Caenar spoke again.

“As I am sure we all know, we are gathered here this evening to celebrate four of our very own; four of the brightest souls to grace our streets: the Morning Children, and the Evening Children. Yes, today Lana, Rylek, Tresten, and Selenor have each turned fifteen years of age. We celebrate their leaving of childhood and their entering into adulthood. Therefore, perhaps we should now refer to them as the Morning Adults and the Evening Adults.”

The villagers laughed; Tresten groaned. “His attempts at humor are even worse than his speeches,” he muttered to himself.

Caenar continued. “I propose a toast to them, and I ask that you all will join me in this.” Everyone there stood up from their chairs with a glass or mug in a hand. The Four were the only ones still sitting.

“May The One guide you on steps ever-sure

And lead you on to lands everlasting.

May your eyes be toward your fellow man

And your hearts dwell in love overcasting.

“To the approaching dawn, and may we not fear it,” he whispered very softly to himself, and drank from his glass. The rest of the village joined him.

Rylek however overheard what he had said, and wondered at what he had meant.

***

The meal was exceptional, as was expected. Caenar actually did not eat much since he spent most of the time conversing at each table. So the Four were left with their parents for the majority of the evening, with a gaping space separating the two families at the table. Rylek was too engrossed with eating to engage in much talk, and Tresten seemed to be quiet also. The girls were busy chatting with their mothers.

After a time, Caenar returned to the tent, taking his place at the table. However, he still did not sit down; instead he raised his arms and called out to the assembly. “Friends, I trust we have all thoroughly enjoyed this spectacular feast that we have so diligently and cheerfully prepared for this evening.”

A round of applause and some vocal affirmations were the villagers’ response.

“Yes, yes,” Caenar continued. “And now, if I may, I will ask us all to remain seated as our persons of honor will now share with us what their plans are for the coming summer.” He looked over to Selenor. “Selenor, will you grace us with informing us of what you intend to do at the University?”

Rylek’s heart began to race. She had been very noncommittal when discussing her plans with them up to this point, saying she would “figure it out later.” Now he wondered if she had settled on a plan and he would learn of it at the same time as the rest of the village.

She stood up and smoothed her hair. “I’m not really used to speaking like this to a crowd,” she started. “Put an instrument in my hand or have me sing, and it’s a different story. But this is an altogether different thing.” She laughed softly, and the people lightly laughed along with her. “Well, as I’m sure everyone here knows, I have a deep love for music and the arts. So my plans for now are to study the arts at the University, and maybe move to Calinaer for awhile to immerse myself in the culture. Then eventually I might go somewhere where I can start a special school to teach music to children. I guess I will just have to see where the winds of inspiration carry me off to.”

Everyone was smiling and nodding to each other, affirming what they had already guessed. However, Rylek felt a stone sink in his gut. A moment later he felt Lana squeeze his right leg in an effort of comfort.

“Those are my plans for now, anyway,” Selenor continued. “I know we all make plans and then Life actually happens, so I guess we’ll see in a few years what I actually do. You know I love you all, and I will especially treasure these last few weeks with you.”

She sat down to applause. Caenar stood up again. “Lana,” he called as he looked at her, “would you now tell us what your plans are?”

Rylek felt he was in a fog. So his fears had proven true: Selenor was not returning to Calm after she finished the University. Deep down inside he believed that once she went to Calinaer, she would never leave. Calinaer was filled with people like her, gifted in so many creative things. His eyes were glued to the empty plate in front of him. He vaguely heard his sister standing right beside him saying she was not exactly sure yet what the focus of her studies would be. Terms like “social care,” “culinary arts,” and “medical field” flitted in and out of his hearing. There was more applause. Caenar introduced Tresten, and Rylek was hypnotized by the lights’ reflections on his plate. Before he knew it his sister was elbowing him; looking up, he saw all the villagers’ eyes were upon him. Caenar was sitting down and beaming as he was also looking at him. He slowly stood and coughed.

“Well, um,” he said, and stopped for a moment. He was having a hard time processing his thoughts. “Big surprise here but I’m copying the others by going to the University, too,” he stammered. There were a couple of short laughs from a few people. “And like Tresten I’m enrolling in the Academy. But after I’ve served my time…” He paused for a moment. “Wow, I just likened the military to prison,” he said. “Not sure my dad would like that.” He glanced at Faltir, who slowly shook his head as he smiled at him. The villagers laughed.

“Anyway, I’m planning on coming back here,” he continued, gathering his thoughts. “Maybe working with my father. I’m not entirely sure yet, but the one thing I do know is this place is my home and where I belong. There’s nothing on The Outside that can compel me to leave you all for good. You are all my family, and I know it’s my duty to contribute all I can to the well-being of this community.”

He sat down hurriedly and flushed. His eyes were instantly stuck on his plate again. Through the sound of blood rushing in his ears he heard the muffled applause of the village. Everything seemed incredibly bright. Out of the corner of his eye he was dimly aware of Caenar standing and saying something. Rylek was reminded of Tresten sarcastically joking that Caenar did not know how to give long-winded speeches, and found himself wishing Caenar would cut it short and sit back in his chair.

After what felt like hours he realized he heard music, and recognized Selenor’s lyre. The strings softly throbbed in his head, and her voice sweetly pierced his soul. He could not dare to look up from his plate. Some time later the torturous rapture was over, and a band struck up some jolly dance music. There was much shuffling as people were rising from their seats to join in the group dance. Rylek saw his chance to get lost in the chaotic proceedings and left the tent. He ventured off into the night, escaping the celebratory sounds of music and laughter, fleeing to quiet and solitude. As though walking in steps that were guided for him, he eventually found himself standing again on The Balcony, looking down at the lights of the village below him. The music could still be heard, but it seemed like a fragment of a faraway dream. He slipped Faldrahil and its scabbard over his head and gently set them on the ground. The grass was soft and welcoming as he lay on it. Nevarra peeked out from behind some clouds in the middle of the night sky. Her light was cold and welcoming, soothing on his weary burning eyes, balm for the red ache that plagued him. Slowly he relaxed, and as he drifted off to sleep he had the impression Selenor was sitting there with him, placing his head in her lap, running her fingers through his hair, and singing softly for him alone.

Chapter Six:

Tales at
The Bell And Candle

“
Rylek
?”

The voice awoke Rylek from a dreamy sleep. He opened his eyes and judged that a couple of hours must have passed, based upon the movement of the night sky. A silhouetted figure was squatting down next to him.

“Rylek?” the voice asked again. “Hey, are you alright?”

He sat up and shook the sleepiness from his head. Now he could dimly see Tresten’s features in the dark. “Yeah, sorry,” he said. “I guess I fell asleep.”

Tresten shook his head. “What are you doing up here? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“I…” Rylek started. “I guess I just needed some time to myself. Feeling a little sentimental and wanted to get away from everyone. Just a little solitude and quiet.”

Tresten stood up. “Well, come on - Quiet Time is over,” he said. “They’re waiting for us at The Bell And Candle.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

Tresten shrugged. “Your dad and some other guys. They want to treat us, now that we’re men, or whatever.”

Rylek sighed. “Okay,” he said as he stood up and grabbed Faldrahil. “Let’s go.”

As they were walking down, Tresten kept casting side glances at Rylek. Finally he asked, “Are you sure you’re alright? You’re not usually like this. I’m supposed to be the quiet moody one.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Rylek said. “It’s like I said: I guess I’m just a little sad over the idea of all of us leaving here soon. This is all we’ve ever known. It’s just a little overwhelming.”

“It’s not like we have to individually go out on our own,” Tresten said. “We will be going together, so each of us will be taking the most important parts of the village along.”

Rylek looked in surprise at Tresten. He was watching the stars as they walked along and looked very thoughtful. “And what’s with you lately?” Rylek asked. “You’ve been very sentimental. I wouldn’t have guessed you could be like that.”

Tresten shrugged. “I guess you could say I’ve been thinking a lot lately, examining myself and wondering what exactly it is that makes me the person I am.”

“They say that’s what usually happens during a big change in a person’s life,” Rylek said. “I wonder if the girls feel the same way.”

Tresten shrugged again.

“Do you really mean what you said?” Rylek asked. “That we’re the most important parts of Calm to you?”

“Absolutely,” Tresten said. “I don’t know what I would do without the three of you. I know that no matter how annoying or frustrating I am – yes, I admit that on the rare occasion even I can be a bit of a frass – no matter how often those times are, the three of you will always stand beside me, loyally supporting me and correcting me. I need all three of you because each of you helps me be a better person.” He paused for a moment. Their footsteps on the grass were the only sound for several moments. “I’ve been thinking a lot these last couple of days,” Tresten continued slowly, “about this place, and Celek, and mom, and Retessa, and Maeon, and – well, just everything. What I am trying to say is, no matter what happens to us in the future, we are still the same people. Nothing changes our upbringing, or our families, or the things that make us up. We will always be us. And after the incredibly odd exchange with Celek - it really doesn’t matter if he is our real father or not. It doesn’t change who I am – I am still me. I guess it’s something I needed to figure out before we head off away from practically everything we have ever known.”

They were silent for a few more moments. The air was still chilly, the sky was still overcast. Both moons were obscured from view as they approached the cemetery.

“You know,” Rylek finally said, “I think I needed to hear that. Thanks for sharing it with me.”

Tresten shrugged. “Friends pass along needed information,” he said with the village lights reflecting in his eyes.

***

The Bell And Candle sat right next to the dock on the lakefront in one of the oldest buildings in the village. It had a longstanding tradition that its proprietors claimed went back more than five hundred years. Many long cold winter nights were spent there by the men of the village, smoking pipes and drinking various grain waters. Old tales were passed down from generation to generation, often becoming taller with every retelling. In the years before The Great Purging, when Calm was a booming tourist center, it was the village’s primary scene of great revelry: laughter, song, and often fights would echo down the streets long into the night. But after The Great Purging, it was just the men of the village who frequented it. The revelry died down, and by needs The Bell And Candle became more of a subdued environment - at least the fights died out, if not the music and laughter. There were three rules that were adhered to for anyone seeking to enter its doors. Firstly, all persons must share at least one tale. Secondly, all persons must be at or above the age of fifteen. Lastly, all persons must be male.

The owner was a short round man named Harokaed Dauphler. He was the latest in a long family line that proudly traced its history back to the founding of The Bell And Candle. His appearance was gruff – he had a scraggly white beard, bushy white eyebrows, and large round watery eyes. Due to an accident he suffered many years before, he walked with a thick knobby cane. As was required for any proprietor of The Bell And Candle, he was the most knowledgeable man in the village concerning beverages of all types, and therefore supplied the villagers with the things they needed to make their teas and strong drink. Of course, given his occupation, he was also the main source of gossip among the men.

As Rylek and Tresten approached the door to The Bell And Candle, Harokaed walked outside and held the door open for them. He held a small, dingy looking bell in his left hand.

“Ah, my lads, my lads!” he cried out. “Welcome to The Bell And Candle! I’ve been anticipating this day for years, and I’m so giddy I can hardly even stand on my own two feet. And I assure you I have
not
been tipping the bottles back – not yet anyway. Just look at my hands – just look at them!” He held out his hands and Rylek saw them shaking. “Giddy I tell you, giddy as a schoolboy on his first day of holidays!” he continued, laughing. “Giddy as a bridegroom on his wedding night!” He laughed so hard he fell into a coughing fit. “Well, we know that’s beyond ridiculous,” he said softly once he had regained control of himself. He leaned in closely to them and added, “I’m sorry, my lads, but I appear to have gotten me a bad case of the dizzy tizzies!” Then in his normal voice he said, “We here at The Bell And Candle know what true and proper pubbing is: good drink, good folk, and good homey ambience; unlike the fancy, high-strutting glamorous folk at The Furgle M’Gurgle, who have to rely on glittery lights and showy women to sell wares. We are not a boy’s play-den; we are a man’s pub.”

Rylek and Tresten exchanged smiles. “Where is The Furgle M’Gurgle?” Rylek asked.

“Oh, it’s one of the main hotspots in old Maeon Plenneth,” Harokaed said, scowling a bit. “I warn you, my lads, for I know it is inevitable you will find yourselves there in the not too distant future: be wary! Don’t allow the temptations of its sensuality distract you from your duties at the University. But that is the future and here we are in the now.” His face relaxed and he held the bell out to Tresten. “Here, Tresten, my lad, take the bell and ring it out loud and clear for all to hear.”

Tresten took the bell and shook it a couple of times. Loud cheering voices came from inside the building. Tresten looked questioningly at Harokaed.

Harokaed smiled and took back the bell. “Go on in, my lad,” he said. “The boys are waiting for you.”

Tresten looked at Rylek, shrugged, and went in the door. Rylek heard the voices erupt in cheers again. Then Harokaed handed him the bell.

“Your turn, lad,” he said.

Rylek smiled, grabbed the old worn wooden handle and let the clapper strike several times. As though on cue, the chorus of voices cheered again. He felt Harokaed’s hand on his back.

“That’s the way to ring it out,” Harokaed said. “Come on in then. Let’s join the party.”

As Rylek walked in to the dimly lit building, he was greeted by a wall lined with shelves of assorted mugs.

“Go on then and pick one out for yourself,” Harokaed said to him.

He looked over the wide variety. Some were tall and thin, others wide and short. There were all sorts of colors: some solid, some multi-colored. A few had intricate designs, while others were rather plain. His eyes settled on a particular medium sized mug towards the end of one of the shelves. It was a light grey color, with a bright red rim, base, and handle. Opposite the handle was a sunburst painted in the same red. He found his hand curiously reaching out towards it.

“Yes, yes,” Harokaed said, “that is a fine one; very fine indeed.”

Rylek held the mug in his hands, examining the sunburst. It was identical to the sunburst on Faldrahil and its scabbard. He was about to ask about it when Harokaed placed his hand on Rylek’s back again, and led him into the room. The cheers rang out yet again as he rounded the corner. Light from dozens of candles and several lanterns flickered on the faces of about ten other men sitting or standing by a wide counter. A few puffed on some pipes. The back wall was lined with various bottles, pots, and canisters. The men all raised their mugs to Rylek and drank.

Harokaed walked over to Tresten. “My poor lad!” he said. “I forgot to tell you to grab a mug. Follow me then.”

As they walked past him, Rylek caught Tresten’s eye. Tresten made a mildly amused face and shrugged at him. Rylek smiled and joined the group. Not long afterwards Tresten returned with a tall silver mug adorned by intricate carvings on the handle.

Harokaed stepped behind the counter. “Now, my lads,” he said to Rylek and Tresten, “what can I be pouring for you? And if you dare mention ‘peppernut tea,’ I’ll be tossing you by the seat of your pants right out the door!”

Rylek laughed and Tresten stared wide-eyed at the back wall. “I have no idea,” Tresten said. “What do you recommend?”

Ronas was standing behind Tresten and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Pour the newly christened men some dark-malted suds, Harokaed,” he said.

“The Marsop Bounty it is!” Harokaed obliged, and Rylek started at the creamy bitterness that met his tongue. The others laughed as they joined in the partaking.

***

The first hour or so was spent with Rylek and Tresten trying various brews and varieties of grain waters. The conversation was light and consisted mostly of Harokaed describing each drink and how it was made. But then he made everyone sit down at a circular table in the middle of the room. He brought a few pitchers to the table, sat down himself, lit his pipe, and said, “Now comes the time when all here must pay for their drink by telling a tale. True or not, it matters not; just entertain us with a good story. I’ll go first.

“Lads, allow me to tell you the tale of how this place came to be known as The Bell And Candle. It all started long, long ago when Calm was first settled. No one had ever lived in this wondrous valley before, so everything was fresh and new. The air was crisp and light, the water cold and clear. My forefather, he was strangely drawn to Lake Calm itself, and built himself a house right off its shore: the very place we now sit. At evening time, he and my foremother would take long slow walks around the lake, listening to the relaxing flow of the water as it leisurely lapped the shore. Every night they’d take their stroll, hand in hand, heart in heart.

“There came an evening when a thick heavy fog settled right here in the valley. My forefather and foremother had just set out on their walk when they heard far across the water a piercing blood-curdling cry. It echoed all throughout the valley. Alarmed, they rushed back into the house here, lit a couple of lanterns, and headed back out. My forefather, he had intended for them both to travel together quickly around the lake to find whoever it was that had made that terrifying noise. My foremother now, she argued they should split up and each make their search along the opposite shores, thereby hoping to find whoever had cried out faster. Foolishly, my forefather agreed to this; so he took the eastern shore, while my foremother took the western shore.

“As he went along, he would check to see my foremother’s lantern. But not long into his search, he could no longer see its light, given the thickness of the fog. After a few minutes, he heard the shrieking cry again, and this time a bell sounded from the same general direction of the cry. He took off at a run, holding his lantern aloft as the cold heavy fog blanketed all around him.

“By the time he arrived at the spot he had guessed the cry had come from, all was completely dark. He couldn’t see anything a yard beyond his lantern. Desperately he called out, but no answer came. The fog blanketed the air so that all sounds seemed to be swallowed up and dead. All he could hear was the soft lapping of the water and his own heavy footsteps. Frantically he searched, all the while wondering where my foremother was. Suddenly he came across a tiny wooden shrine from which hung an ancient-looking bell. He had never seen it before. As he held his lantern up to the bell he could see odd lines and squiggles he took for runes engraved all over its body. A wooden mallet hung from the side of the shrine. Taking it up in his hand, he called out the name of my foremother. But though he strained his ears, he heard no reply. Knowing well how the bell’s ringing would travel over the water, he struck it hard with the mallet. I tell you, lads, he immediately heard a large splash of water far in front of him. Heart pounding, he dropped the mallet and sprinted as fast as his leaden legs could carry him to where he thought he had heard the splash, all the while shouting out my foremother’s name. On he ran, calling out for her, until he found himself back in front of his house – this very same building, my lads. All night long he searched around the lake, looking for her, but I tell you it was to no avail. She had mysteriously vanished; she was never seen or heard from again.