A Thread of Time: Firesetter, Book 1 Page 4

  “Where did you hear that?” Mother asked, now setting Taul’s dessert before him. It was a handful of berries diligently gathered from the forest.

  “Amyr said so.”

  Watching Taul eat his berries, I wished I could have a few. There weren’t enough though, as it was still too early in the spring. Only Taul got such a prize because his visits were so few, but next time, when he was far across the stars, all the berries would be for me.

  “Amyr.” Taul sniffed and shook his head a little, rolling his eyes, while sharing a knowing glance with Mother. “What else does our fanciful cousin say of this land he has never been to, nor couldn’t see if he had?”

  “Nothing,” I murmured. “Nothing else at all.”

  In truth, Amyr had told me much of our peoples’ former home, describing it as if he had lived there long ago.

  “You shall like it there, Jan,” he had told me. “There you shall find a man to love you, a man like you.”

  I believed him, for Amyr only spoke the truth.

  Taul left the next day, and as usual when he departed, my mother wept for an entire week.

  “Where do you think he will go?” I asked Amyr, arriving at his side with a fresh bowl of fish soup. “Will he come back or will he die in outer space?”

  Amyr frowned and supped the broth. I could tell he was feeling better this day, as he was sitting upright, and there was a slight pinkness to his normally wan cheeks. Like me, his skin was pale, but unlike me, his hair was as black as night, making an interesting contrast that seemed to give pause to all who met him. Today, his hair glowed as if the sun was shining singularly upon him, and his eyes were filled with colors, although I couldn’t say which ones.

  “He won’t die in outer space,” my cousin replied thoughtfully, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Do not fear for it shan't be the last time you see your brother. He is doing what he is called to do.”

  I nodded. I liked when Amyr spoke as if the future was written and displayed before his eyes. He always smiled when he did this, which made me think the future wouldn’t be so bad.

  “What am I called to do?”

  “Play chess with me,” Amyr declared, reaching for the ancient marble set stored on a tray beneath his chair. Uncle had carried it home one day, saying it was brought to him by a man who claimed to have received it from the Duke of Turko.

  “He said it once belonged to the Great Emperor,” Uncle had cried excitedly. “See here the Imperial Signet stamped upon the bottom of each piece.”

  “Can you see it, Amyr?” I had asked, holding the white queen close to his strange eyes.

  “I see it.” Amyr smiled, but I didn’t believe him because his eyes were closed.

  “Aw,” I moaned then as he began to set up the board, for I was none too pleased to be invited to play this game. Although given the choice of returning to my weeping mother or remaining here, my options were both poor. “Alright, but where is the black king and white queen? We are missing two very important pieces, cousin.”

  “I gave them to Taul before he left. We can use salt and pepper shakers instead.”

  “Amyr,” my aunt interrupted, fortunately for me. “Jan isn't here to entertain you. She has fish to catch. Work to do. Unlike you, Jan has no free time.”

  Auntie was working a fine cloth, something shiny and satiny that belonged to a rich lady. It rustled between her fingers and reflected light across the room. I imagined a dress made of this material, briefly envisioning how it might appear on me, before brushing that thought aside. That was something I would never wear.

  “And, I have nothing but free time,” Amyr agreed. “Endless hours to sit and think. But, it is raining and Jan doesn't like fishing in the rain. Furthermore, the wind will come up to ruin her sail and rock her boat. Go get the shakers, Jan. I’m setting the board so you will be white.”

  “It's not raining,” I said, nodding toward the window where long, dirty streaks made the blue sky look as if it was dark and gray. “But, Auntie is right. I am busy.”

  In truth, I hated playing chess with Amyr. Despite my best efforts, he always won. Occasionally, he would let me get close by capturing a rook, a knight, and several pawns. Once or twice, he even let me capture his queen, giving me false hope, making me believe that I might survive. Then, in a blink of an eye, he had my king locked in a deadly trap.

  Amyr smiled and shrugged a little, just as thunder clapped overhead. Giant splatters of rain pinged against the filthy window.

  “You see? It is a poor day to be out in a boat.”

  “I promised my mother I would clean the house. She has taken to her bed in sorrow over Taul’s departure. I’m sorry, Amyr. Perhaps, we can play another time?”

  “Perhaps.” He yawned and closed his eyes, absolving my guilty conscience for he was tired.

  “Embo is acting ridiculous,” Aunt Ailana declared. “Your mother's theatrics are exactly that. But, go on, Jan. Amyr doesn't need you. He can play chess against himself just as well. It's a pity his eyesight is too poor to stitch, else he could sit here and earn a coin the same as me.”

  “Now, you know why my eyesight is poor,” my cousin teased lightly, in between another yawn. His eyes closed, and his long dark lashes created a fan across his cheek. “When the angels asked if I should like to see, but in exchange I must stitch and sew, I promptly refused their generous offer, and chose to be helpless instead.”

  “Oh Amyr,” my auntie sighed, “what will I do with you?”

  “You will kill me,” he joked as I shut the door.

  Now, weeks later, I found myself again outside their door with the little street urchin, Dov, who had nowhere to go.

  “That soup was really delicious. Do you think they might give me some more?”

  I shook my head. Both Mother and Auntie would blame me for encouraging him.

  “I'm sorry.”

  He shrugged again. “That’s okay. Thanks for sharing it with me.”

  “Thank my cousin if you ever get to meet him. You should hide beneath our porch, or behind that large shrub next to the house. If the Korelesk army comes, they probably won't look over there.”

  Dov shook his head and jumped off the porch, landing on both feet. He smiled as if that was great fun.

  “Goodbye Jan.” He skipped to the street, and were it not for the wind, I would have heard him singing a silly, childish song, his torn, sleeveless shirt bouncing up and down, dancing in the rain.

  Chapter 6

  Pellen

  “They say there is fighting in the streets, Papa. Did you see it?” Amyr called to me as soon as I opened the door.

  I was tired and my back aching from far too many hours of standing on the cement floor. My heart, too, was aching from far too many hours of standing with only a few coins to show for my efforts. Three coins were not enough to feed my wife and myself, let alone the boy whose medicine cost twice as much each week.

  “No.” I spoke truthfully for my journey home had been uneventful.

  However, there had been whispers on the street, although I tried not to listen. Purposefully, I had walked with my head down and my eyes unfocused, so as not to call attention to myself. Yet, I heard wisps of strangers' conversations unmistakable in their meaning. Everyone was speaking the same. The same words were repeated from corner to corner, doorstep to doorstep. Evil had come to us and no longer were we safe.

  “Are you certain?” my son asked. “I thought I heard the sounds of guns.”

  “Hush,” Ailana snapped, putting her hand on the boy. “It was only your imagination, or the thunder in the hills. I heard nothing. There is no reason to worry. Don't overly excite yourself, child. Sit back down and calm your heart.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t see anything, Papa?” the child persisted as I lay down upon the floor.

  I was too worn even to remove my boots, as my heart was now beating double time worrying after his. Would that I could give my son my own strong organ in exchange for the one that beat
so weak. If not, would that I could take this child away from this poor, sad village where he could not be cured.

  “I saw nothing.” I forced a smile into my voice, while keeping it calm and low, lest the child or my wife hear my fear. “I saw only the jagged cracks in the pavement. If I did not watch for them, I might have fallen through, and ended up in the motherland on the other side of the planet.”

  Amyr laughed, but Ailana only rolled her eyes.

  “Take off your coat, Pellen. You are dripping water on the floor.”

  “Jan saw something,” Amyr reported as I hung my coat upon its peg. “She said they made a tremendous noise.” This filled my son with excitement, for he began to bounce as he lay upon the worn couch.

  “Hush Amyr,” my wife said again, for the boy's exertion might lead to a fit. Sometimes, the medicines helped to control the spasms, while other times, we could do nothing but stand helplessly and watch.

  “Your niece has a tendency to exaggerate,” I reminded Ailana. “The trucks might have merely been provisions from the government.”

  “No.” Amyr held himself upright to look at me.

  I turned to face my boy, never failing to appreciate the beauty of his appearance. Where and from whom his unique looks descended, I could only guess. Certainly, it wasn't me, for my hair was a plain, ordinary brown, my nose overly large, and my dark eyes too closely set.

  While I appreciated Ailana's looks, she, too, paled in comparison to the boy. Neither was her golden beauty passed on to him. Instead, he eclipsed her with his shiny black hair, pale skin as fine as porcelain, and eyes that could only be described as singularly unique.

  On cold winter days, Amyr's eyes echoed the snow. When thunder raged overhead, they were as dark and foreboding as the rain. During the spring, they glistened with color, and in the summer, they shone as golden as the sun. On the rare occasions when he grew angry, they flamed as if filled with fire burning red. Yet, for such unique and exceptionally beautiful organs, they were surprisingly poor when it came to performing their task.

  My son was born sickly. Since his arrival, several months earlier than he should have appeared, his growth had been marred by the advancement of his poor condition.

  “We haven't the facilities to treat him anymore,” the doctor had said, shortly after his birth. “Years ago, during the reign of the Empress Sara, we could have helped him. Now, I can only give you a medicine to alleviate his pain.”

  “What will become of him?” Ailana had gasped, clutching the baby to her chest, fearing the loss of someone we had only just come to know.

  The doctor didn't respond. My son's list of ailments was far too long to recite. Her time was better spent with patients, some whom might not only pay her, but be cured.

  Amyr was still alive now, and every day was a joy and a reason to give thanks. He was an exceptionally bright and cheerful child, his wit as sharp as his intelligence was cunning. But, he was weak and so each day ended with the fear that this one might be his last. Tonight, his heart might cease to beat. If not, tomorrow, his brain might seize and grow silent.

  I loved the child with everything that was within me and would have given him my healthy body in an instant if I could. Yet, there were nights when I wished for it all to be done, to wake up and discover this nightmare had finally ended. I told myself he would be at peace.

  In the mornings, I would chastise myself and fall prostrate upon the floor in prayer. I would expunge those evil thoughts from my soul, for God had given me this child for a reason. Although my son’s purpose amongst us was not apparent now, I knew that someday I would understand it all, and so I went about my daily tasks with my son forever on the tip of my mind.

  Foregoing breakfast, I would depart early to walk to my shop, whereupon I would stand for twelve hours on the cement. My aching back and my worn heart were just penance for the evil thoughts about someone who I so dearly loved.

  Again, the next night, in the darkest and coldest hours, when the last of the heat had gone from the hearth, those black thoughts would creep into my mind. How many coins would we have without his medicine? What food could I give to Ailana, who like her cousin was now as slim as stick? Without this child and his burdens, might we leave this place and return to the motherland, for it was only Amyr and his medicines who kept us here.

  “Jan brought a child home with her,” Ailana said, removing the worn boots from my feet, which briefly celebrated the joy of being set free. I moved closer to the fire, letting the flames warm my toes and soles, as Ailana headed to the kitchen to fetch a needle and thread. Her skirts swished behind her, hanging loosely from her thin frame. If I looked closely, I would see bones jutting from beneath her blouse. “I see you have another hole in the left one.” Her voice scolded wearily. “I should repair it now while the leather is still wet and supple.”

  “Don't. Leave it be.” Her fingers would be sore and blistered, aching more so than my back and feet, for she spent the same hours stitching in exchange for a coin or a cup of flour. “Another day, I can manage. Another week, I can walk. There is no hurry, Ailana. Come sit by the fire and warm yourself with me.”

  “Don't tell me what to do,” she snapped, returning with both her sewing implements and a cup of lukewarm broth. A tiny cloud of fat floated at the top. A single dumpling of dough formed like a lump in the very center.

  “Amyr, have you supped?” I asked, offering my cup firstly to the boy.

  My son shook his head.

  “I'm not hungry, Papa. I gave my cup to Jan for her friend. He needed it more than I. He was very hungry.”

  “A waste,” Ailana spat, her hands already busily filling my boot's hole. “Feeding a child off the street when we haven't enough to fill our own bellies.”

  I glanced back at my son, while drinking my broth with relish. Despite its weak contents, it tasted it good, especially since this day, I had eaten only a single egg and a crust of hard bread. Amyr was smiling, his odd eyes shining with color, reflecting the flames in the hearth despite the darkness surrounding him.

  Ailana sniffed loudly and shrugged a cold shoulder in Amyr's direction. “A little boy,” she muttered under breath.

  “A little boy,” I echoed with a chuckle. “Tell me about your friend, my son. Did Mama let you invite him in?”

  Setting my empty cup down on the floor beside me, I lay flat, the only position comfortable for my back, and stared at the vein like cracks crisscrossing the ceiling. Were they getting worse? Wasn't that large one down the center a little less only yesterday? Someday, this ceiling would collapse upon us and I would be powerless to put it back. Someday the world would collapse around us, and I, Shopkeeper Pellen would be powerless to provide for my family.

  “Jan found him by the boat. Then, the trucks came and shot up everything on the street. Jan and her friend ran home as fast as they could, but neither Mama nor Aunt Embo wouldn't let the boy come in their house.”

  “Calm down, Amyr!” Ailana cried. “That's enough of this tale. If we let every lost child inside, there would be no space or food for you.”

  My wife was correct, as unfortunate as it was. There were more lost children on the street than we could ever feed. My heart broke as I passed them, begging, stealing, or too weak to even try. That was the way of it now, not only in our village, but throughout the land. Who could help them? Not I. I had not enough bread to feed my own sickly son.

  “We should go to the motherland,” I whispered to Ailana later that night as the two of us huddled beneath our blanket. Neither of us slept, but instead we both listened for the steady sound of Amyr's breath.

  In and out, he gasped, occasionally marked by a cough, or an unintelligible murmuring that almost sounded like another tongue.

  “There are no medicines there,” my wife scoffed, repeating what we both knew. “Wishes and prayers, smoke and incense, dances and songs will not stave off the spells or keep his heart beating.”

  “If the army has come for us, the hospital will r
efuse us entrance. The doctors will act as if we are not there. No longer will they give us the medicines that he needs.”

  “We don't even speak the language, Pellen. We have no memories, no ties to that place.”

  “It is in our blood and in our souls,” I insisted. “We can learn to speak and grow our roots again, just as our grandparents did when they came here. If the army has truly come, if it is as the whisperings suggest, the motherland is the only place where we will be safe.”

  My wife said nothing more, for she knew that I spoke the truth, yet she would not admit to it, nor even consider my request. She turned her back to me and soon, I could hear the steady rhythm of her slumbers intertwined with Amyr’s breathing in and out.

  Chapter 7

  Ailana

  Amyr had a spell just before morning. I heard him choking and thrashing in the depths of my sleep. Even if I hadn’t heard him, I would have awaken. I always knew when he was suffering. It was almost as if an alarm would begin to sound deep within my soul.

  “What is it?” Pellen mumbled, reaching for me as I stirred. The foolish man thought it was because of him that I had awakened, that I might want him now in the light of the early dawn.

  “Amyr,” I cried, slapping at my husband’s arms and rushing across the room to my child.

  He had gone still. If he was breathing, I couldn’t hear it. Laying my head upon his chest, I searched for the sound of his heart, willing for it to beat, begging it to stir.

  “Amyr!” Pellen yelled, now rushing to my side, trying to awaken the boy with the sound of his voice. “Amyr!”

  Pellen reached in the boy’s mouth, lest his tongue again be blocking his throat. Then, he slapped at my child’s face and his chest.