Within Walls Chapter 18

She was floating on updrafts like the harbor gulls

18

The harpoons clattered slightly as they bounced against Mebre’s shoulder. She practically skipped over the hard packed surface of the road.

The sky resembled a fresh cut peach. Mebre embraced that day-end glory; her thoughts remained with Ehrten and Kerahl, and having left Milik’s dad with his misery and curses.

She was floating on updrafts like the harbor gulls when she turned onto the road that led to Beylem’s house. Three nights ago it had been a beacon on an otherwise dark street, now it was home.

A thin stream of cook smoke drifting up guided Mebre past empty houses on their near silent street. The distant din of the harbor: waves, bird-calls, and the occasional buoy-bell, provided a backdrop for her soft footfalls. The sound of a door opening cut across that tranquility.

Mebre whipped her head around at the noise, placing her free hand on the harpoons. Standing in the doorway of one of the abandoned houses stood Bun-bun, he had a bottle in each hand and two more clenched in his underarms. He looked frozen with guilt, like Rahim would when caught trying to sneak an extra sweet.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” Bun-bun raised his arms in a signal of peace, but the bottle beneath it slipped. He managed to pin it between his hip and his elbow. He looked up from his askance stance. “You gonna stick me with one of them, or you feel like helping me out here?”

Mebre dropped the harpoons and ran up to help him secure the precariously held bottle, she also grabbed the one under his other arm. “Oh are you bringing a bottle for each of us, even me? Beylem won’t be happy.” Mebre found joking around easy in Bun-bun’s presence.

“Ha, maybe not, but tonight’s goodbye,” He said. “Farewells require the extra drink, so the parting isn’t made heavier with things unsaid.”

“I don’t want you to leave, you actually get Beylem to laugh.”

“You’re right, but not like Seyneb could…” He trailed off.

She’d thought she was ready to shed the constant comparisons to Beylem’s missing daughter, she’d looked forward to it, but Mebre felt a subtle slice at Bun-bun’s observation.

Taking a deep breath he continued. “I can’t stay here, though. Hyr Yugehn is full of… their… memories.”

Mebre could only nod, she knew well what it was like to be haunted by memories.

“Give me the bottles, you grab your harpoons.” He took the bottles from her but his eyes remained on the shafts she’d salvaged. “Wait, let me see those; they look nicely made.”

“They are!” Mebre was proud he had noticed. “The sockets are full forged and pinned. That shank won’t move unless the wood breaks.”

“Well, I’ll be drowned, you know your stuff, Beylem’s taught you well.”

Mebre thought about not correcting him, but she remembered his words about leaving the truth unsaid. “I learned that from my Pa, he was a patcher. He said a pinned socket was a pain to make, but worth it. Few of the fisherfolk in Golos could afford them. That didn’t stop him, he made them right and didn’t charge except when they could actually pay.”

“Taking a loss at both ends? No wonder they always say ‘poor as a patcher’. No disrespect to your Pa, but he wasn’t much for business.”

Mebre’s shoulders tightened in proud defiance. “He did it for the Hyr, not for the money.” Mebre tried to keep her voice level, she knew Bun-bun didn’t mean to poke at her pride. “Poverty makes for poor customers, he always said.”

“Seems I underestimated your pa. He was a wise man. My Apologies.” He put his hand gently between her shoulder blades. “Let’s get you home, and these bottles opened,” he said, guiding her with a light push.

The smell of roasted fish greeted Mebre and Bun-bun when they arrived outside. Mebre left the harpoons outside and opened the door for Bun-bun, following him in. Beylem was in front of the hearth manning a grill covered by the split form of a solid-looking flat faced fish. He looked up from his work. “I told you she’d be back, no sense in worrying.” He said to Zayaf who was putting a knife to some carrots. She put the knife down, wiped her hands on her apron and scurried over to wrap Mebre in an embrace.

Zayaf pressed her head against Mebre’s. “You were gone a long time, I couldn’t imagine what was the delay and then I just thought the worst things.” Then she released her and threw her arms around Bun-bun. “Is this your fault?”

“Not this time,” he replied with a laugh.

Nomi stared out the window.

“Nomi! When did you show?”

Nomi didn’t move.

“He came to our door last night, he’s not said much this whole time,” Zayaf said. Her eyes slightly squinting sympathetically in the direction of her brother-in-law.

“Where was he?” Bun-bun asked.

Zayaf threw up her hands.

“He’ll come around,” Bun-bun sounded as if he even believed it. “He always was the more introspective brother.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” Beylem said, not looking up from the grill. He was fanning the coals with a cedar shingle. “You brought a lot of wine.” His voice had an edge to it, Mebre recognized it from her first night: guarded, testing.

“Where’d you get these?” Zayaf asked, picking up a squat bottle capped with wax. Some sort of sigil was deeply impressed into the seal. “This is Mallandro made.” She nearly whispered the name in reverence.

“Your neighbor, Walab, was always bragging about his cellar. Turns out, he was right to,” Bun-bun said. “If you like it, there’s plenty more down there, and he’s not coming back.”

“You don’t know that,” Beylem said, his voice harder than before. “You can’t know that. Some of us don’t give up as easy as you.”

A clinging silence followed Beylem’s words.

Eyes down, Mebre heard the cooking coals crackle. A palpable paralysis gripped the room, Mebre scrunched up her toes as if to prove she could still move.

“Oh, Bun-bun, when did you get here?” It was Nomi’s voice and with his words came movement. Bun-bun put his hand on Nomi’s shoulder, Zayaf put her knife down and scrubbed her hands with a corner of her apron. Beylem straightened and took a step towards the table.

“I only just got here, Nomi, how’ve you been?”

“Been better,” Nomi said. His eyes, looking distant, darted over to each person in the room and then he added, “been worse too.”

“We all have, Nomi.” Bun-bun punctuated his agreement with friendly pats on Nomi’s shoulder.

“That is a lot of wine. We celebratin’? Your eldest finally get a baby in that pretty girl of his?”

Bun-bun’s hand came back to his side, he breathed in deep. “I lost the boys, “ He said in a small voice. “Tayla too.” He brushed a finger across his cheek. “The wine is because tonight’s… Tonight is goodbye. I took a job in Hyr Takoy.”

“Hyr Takoy? That’s right by the Anaqarssi. Be careful, the merchants won’t bother you much, but the cutpurses…” Nomi shook his head as if remembering.

“That’s all just stories, Nomi,” Zayaf said, hands resting on her hips.

Mebre had heard stories of the Anaqarssi, the great bazaar, just in front of the gates of the Fejahdeshyr, everyone had. There were dozens of tales everyone knew set in the Anaqarssi, heroes and merchants, usually falling for beautiful dancers, or promises of gold. She’d always thought of it as myth, even less real than Hyr Besat, both known only through stories. She wanted to ask Nomi if he’d been there, and when, but it was not the time for her to ask questions.

“No, I seen it.” Nomi insisted, still sitting by the window. “There’s Fejahd a-plenty walking those stalls, but when you’re as desperate as them that cuts purses, well you’ll risk a finger if it means eatin’ one more meal.”

“No one here is that desperate.” Beylem declared, looming over the table. “The Fejahd maintain justice and besides, none of us are thieves.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that.” Bun-bun said.

Beylem’s glowering in response was mirrored by Bun-bun.

Zayaf stepped back from the two men. She put her hand on Mebre’s shoulder and guided her away with a whispered, “Let’s get that hair of yours in order.”

“I see she’s spent her salvaging efforts looking for decoration.” Beylem said not moving his eyes from Bun-bun’s.

Zayaf bent down until her lips were almost on Mebre’s ear. “Let that go.” Her words were soft as was the squeeze she gave. She guided Mebre over to where the makeshift mattress used to be. “Sit, I’ll get my things.”

Mebre sat. At first she tried to avoid looking at the two silent men, but as their wordless confrontation dragged on, her gaze rose.

At some point Beylem had folded his arms, resting them atop his belly. Bun-bun’s hands were down by his side, clenched, slightly trembling. Nomi looked from Bun-bun, back to Beylem, and then he shook his head and looked back out the window.

Zayaf came back with her box of combs and vials. She placed it on the floor and sat down behind Mebre, her legs sticking out to either side of her.

“This is nice,” Zayaf said untying the silk kerchief. “This is a clever, little knot. You must show me how you tied it without looking.”

A jolt of fear ran through Mebre, she tried not to react visibly.

Zayaf let out a quiet laugh. “It’s all right, sweetie. It’s a knot anyone who has ever tied a fishing line knows.” She leaned in closer. “I suspect he’s why you snuck out the other night. When you’re ready to share, I’d love to know his name.”

His name. Zayaf had misassumed where she’d gone and what she’d been up to. Mebre’s shoulders dropped, her back loosened. The gentle bite of the comb into her curls sent pleasant shudders rolling through her.

Zayaf worked her fingers, oil slick, down to Mebre’s roots, and then up, pulling apart tangled strands. There was no tug, no pain: a mother’s instinctual touch. “I can already see the progress, sweetie.” Zayaf’s voice was a low hum. “In no time we’ll find the prettiness these wild waves are hiding.”

“So this is how we say goodbye?” Bun-bun broke the stasis by the table. “A wordless staredown?”

“You’re the only one who thinks this has to be goodbye.”

“That’s what this is about then?” Bun-bun asked. “You’re mad at me for leaving?”

“Not mad.” Beylem said, clearly trying to sound calm. “You’ve been Yugehn your whole life, I just don’t see why you think you suddenly need to abandon us to be some Hyr Takoy… I don’t know…”

“I can’t stay, Beylem. Their memories are everywhere in Hyr Yugehn.” Bun-bun pointed to a spot by the hearth. “Right there is where Delig fell and got that scar on his chin. When I walk down the street, or visit the hyr tree square, all I see are places they have been and never will be again.” Bun-bun’s voice frayed as he spoke.

“Yeah, and just behind that door is where my daughter slept.”

Zayaf’s combing slowed.

Mebre looked back. “Why don’t they just say what they mean?”

“What do you think they mean? What should they say?”

“Why can’t they just say that they love each other? They’re like brothers, and they’re going to miss each other.”

Zayaf chuckled.

“Why is that funny?”

“You’ll learn soon enough, sweet one. Keep your eyes open, and you’ll see plenty that doesn’t make sense. See it, remember it, make sense of it when you can.”

Mebre nodded and then watched Bun-bun leave without saying another word, and Beylem stood unmoving until the door slammed shut. He went back and tended to the fish on the grill while Zayaf finished with Mebre’s hair.

Mebre continued sitting, mentally chewing on everything she’d seen.

Beylem plated the fish as if it was any other evening meal. Then she saw Zayaf putting away her hair care implements. She picked at the comb, plucking out the light colored strands and leaving behind the dark hair long entangled in its teeth.

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