Oresh was absorbed looking at the wooden figurine in his hand. It wore a white dress and had a long ponytail – considering the maker only had Oresh’s description of her, it was a reasonable likeness of Shanessa. They always left the face blank though. He closed his eyes, trying to burn the memory of her face into his mind.
“Did you want a second one?” asked the figurine maker
“Yes, that’s right”
The figurine maker tutted, “You’re the fifth to ask me for
two today. These are dark days, dark days indeed”
Once the copy had been carved and painted, Oresh thanked and
paid her. He was in a street in the shadow of the Sunset Tower which, despite
being crowded, was eerily devoid of laughter and idle chatter. He joined a
procession of lishas and hurums walking down a path which curled around the
tower to a plaza at the point where both the mouth of the river and the mouth
of the dock’s canal met the sea. His mother, his sister and Ekur – the lisha
boy who lived opposite their old house – were already there. Ekur was sobbing
uncontrollably, constantly wiping the tears from his face with a rag. There was
also a gaggle of hurum girls crying and hugging each other whom Oresh
recognised as Shanessa’s friends from scribe school.
“Still no sign of Anka,” said Kisha, “world’s best sister”
“I wonder why she can’t come”, said Oresh just as
sardonically, glaring accusingly at Kisha
Soon after Kisha had arrived back at their new home in the
Ekuan quarter last night, Oresh had heard Anka call his name and he went up to
the roof to see Kisha lunging at Anka. He wasn’t so naïve that he couldn’t work
out what was happening, but nonetheless he wasn’t sure he knew enough to make
an allegation. Kisha had told him afterwards that she was merely trying to give
Anka a consoling hug.
Watching Anka run over the rooftops and into the night was
the last he had seen her. What if she had run into yet another ravenous lisha?
Oresh shook the thought from his head, he had to believe she was alright. He
was also slightly worried about Bukur. He had sent a message, but there was no
sign of him either. He wouldn’t be so busy chasing orokurs that he’d miss
Shanessa’s funeral, surely?
The sun was setting behind the mountains of the mainland,
and the sky was shifting from gold to blood-red. A simple boat was tethered on
the shore, a long, intricate prayer carved along the top of the hull. Other
families were carrying and laying their loved ones on the deck. Some were
lishas, some were hurums, some wore elegant togas, some wore simple tunics.
Almost all were old. Once they had finished, Oresh and some others came forward
to place wooden figurines in the stern. He kept the second figurine in his hand,
close to his heart. Once he got home, he would put it in Anka’s family chest.
Shanessa would be with her parents again.
Shakresh, a lisha wearing a spotless white toga, hobbled
forward with his walking stick. He was the Ushi Sopri, the mediator between
Kurush and the Sun.
“Father of all things,” he enunciated to the setting sun,
“giver of all life, brightest, most glorious and most primordial of all beings.
Each day you grant us your light and power, nourishing our bodies and spirits. But
despite being your children, despite the strength you give us, we are as frail
as cripples compared to you. We cannot survive forever in this liminal world
between land, sky and sea, this battlefield of the elements. Today, these
children of yours succumbed to the rigours of life. Your power, their spirits,
have already returned to you. May they rest and exult for the rest of time.
Now, as per the ancient contract, we commend their bodies to the sea”
He untethered the boat and heaved it away from the shore.
The flow of the river took hold of it and pushed it past the tower on the far
side of the river, past the tower on the far side of the canal, and out into
the open sea. The golden disc slipped behind the mountains, and iridescent
purple streaks appeared across the sky. Ekur wailed as though it was the only
way he could meaningfully say goodbye. Oresh put an arm around his shoulder and
pulled him close.
Oresh remembered the day he had taught Shanessa how to write
her first words. It wasn’t long before they were swapping childish poems with
each other. Her proudest creation when she was ten was a poem about a girl who
stepped in some porridge, then some mud, then some piss, then some shit, then
some vomit, but kept walking cheerily on. Oresh cracked a pained smile.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” the family turned to see Tiuk coming
towards them, “and I’m sorry it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other. If
only it were under better circumstances. She was a good girl, always so full of
life. She always saw the best in people”
Tiuk put a hand on Gishka’s shoulder. Looking at them you
would never have guessed that they came from the same clutch of eggs, Gishka
with her upmarket dress, ornate jewellery and expanding waistline, Tiuk with
her polished armour, toned muscles and commanding eyes.
“I heard that you were evicted. Why didn’t you tell me you
needed help?”
Gishka smiled weakly, “Everything will be alright”
It takes some gall to say that the day after your adopted
daughter is killed, thought Oresh.
Tiuk turned to Oresh and whispered in his ear, “Anka’s safe.
She’s with Bukur”
He inwardly sighed with relief, “Thank you”
“I need to get back to the Rush,” said Tiuk, “Kisha, I need
you on duty at the crack of dawn tomorrow. No excuses. If you miss another
patrol, I’m docking your pay”
“Yes ma’am”, said Kisha, averting her gaze
“What was that about?” asked Oresh once Tiuk had left
“None of your business”, said Kisha
“It seems to me that you should be grateful she’s only
threatening you with less pay. Doesn’t it make sense that if everyone does
their job, respects their fellow citizens, and puts work into making Kurush a
better place, everyone will be happier? Including yourself”
Kisha placed a hand on his chest and firmly pushed him backwards
until they were out of their mother’s earshot.
“Only weaklings like you need things like rules, compassion
and a giddily happy society. If there’s something I want to do, and it’s in my
power to do it, then I’m going to do it. It’s as simple as that. It’s your
choice if you get in the way”
Kisha walked off, joining the line of lishas and hurums
snaking their way back up the path around the tower. Oresh struggled to
remember the last time she’d been quite so blunt with him, but with some
sadness he realised that he wasn’t at all surprised by her words. It’s my duty,
he thought, to work harder to make her see the light. I mustn’t dismiss her as
a lost cause. If a brother can’t even show his sister the right path, then what
hope is there for Kurush?
Constructive criticism welcome
© Paul Bramhall
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