The Healers' Purpose: A Slice of Life Fantasy Novel, page 36
“I’ve got a big batch of noodles for anyone who wants them,” Fujia said after the introductions, nodding back over her shoulder toward the shop. “Zhen’s here already. Have you eaten, Sister?”
“Not yet,” the priest replied. “I believe I’ll join him, then.” She vanished into Fujia’s shop, leaving the rest of them on the walkway.
“I saw Guanyu on the way here,” Keifon said. “Which leaves Kunlan, Yang and Pai. Or some combination.” The two parents rarely came together, depending on their work schedules at the sawmill; they shared their notes in an effort to keep up with the others.
“They’ll be along, I’m sure. Come on.” Fujia opened the door and herded the rest of them inside.
The now-familiar scent of paper pulp washed over Keifon’s senses, mixed with the smell of garlic and ginger. Zhen saluted with a bowl from his seat, and then his face lit up. He stood, leaving his bowl on the table. “This must be young Nachi, and—” He nodded politely to Hui, who returned it, restrained and cautious.
“San Hui of San Mercantile in Ceien.”
“Pleasure to meet you, sir. My name is Zhen. I’m currently employed by Wei Carpentry.”
Hui took the greeting warmly. “Wasn’t the young man from the fair a Wei?”
“That’s Tai,” Keifon said, and guided Nachi by the shoulder toward the table where Fujia had laid out the food. Sister Xiuying had just filled up a bowl. Keifon and Nachi took their turn, and Hui followed. The little group convened around the table; Keifon noticed that Fujia had put out some extra chairs this evening.
While they ate, Zhen inquired after the sights that Hui and Nachi had seen on their trip. Taking the opportunity to prepare, Keifon brought out his notes from the last session and flipped through them. They’d been working on grammar, building more complex sentences, learning how to fit words together as a native speaker would.
More voices from the doorway drew his attention, and soon Kunlan bustled in with Pai on her hip, followed by Guanyu at a more relaxed pace. Keifon swept his notes back into order and got up, leaving his fork in the bowl. Before he could even say hello, Kunlan had deposited her baby son in his arms. Behind them, Fujia shut the door and turned the sign to Closed. She watched from the background as Keifon went over the introductions one more time.
He couldn’t read Hui’s face. He knew what he was putting in front of his former father-in-law: a sawmill laborer, a salesclerk in a carpentry shop with incongruously perfect manners, a greengrocer’s assistant who said little beyond the necessities, and a Tufarian priest whom Hui must have seen working in the Primrose. Some gave their full names, and some didn’t. None of it made sense. Yet here they all were, eating noodles in the sales room of a stationery shop.
Keifon glanced from grandfather to granddaughter, handed Pai back to his mother now that she’d gotten her food, and then took his seat again. “The lesson will be two hours altogether,” he said to the visitors. “I’m sure Fujia would be happy to show you around Oldtown, if this is too dull.”
“I’d protest at being volunteered, except it’s true,” Fujia said dryly from behind him. “I’ll be in the back room. Tea’s on.”
Following their usual formula, Keifon asked about the past week, including any new questions the group might have about Kaveran language or culture. They chatted for a while as everyone finished eating. There were no new questions; they came less frequently as time went on. Just everyday life and a little gossip.
Zhen gathered the empty bowls and distributed tea as the conversation wound down. Hui nodded toward the door leading back into Fujia’s workroom. “That’s the back?”
“Mmn. Want to go along, sweetheart?”
“I’d rather stay,” Nachi replied. “Can I, Apamei?”
“Suit yourself,” Hui said. “I’ll let you know if I go anywhere. Most likely not. I’ve had enough walking for today.”
He made his way toward the back room, and Nachi picked up one of her drawing pencils and began to sketch something at the edge of one of her blank pages. Keifon left her to it. She was old enough now to entertain herself. Best to remember that.
“All right, everyone,” he said. “Complex sentences. How about some examples? Zhen, would you be so kind as to go first?”
As they practiced, swapping back and forth from Kaveran to Yanweian, Nachi filled a page with small sketches and notes, jotted in uneven columns between the pictures. She watched the group, and watched Keifon as he elaborated on grammar rules. Keifon stopped worrying about boring her and began worrying about what might be brewing in her mind.
After the first hour, the group took their customary break. Outside the sun had set and the lamplighters had made their rounds, so the narrow street stood in a pool of light. Pai had fallen asleep on his mother’s shoulder, and the group kept their voices low. Once she’d been assured it was all right, Nachi got up to poke around the goods in Fujia’s shop. A crack of laughter broke from the back room, and Keifon started. It was answered by more of the same. He didn’t know that laughter as well as Fujia’s. He tried to keep a straight face, listening to what Sister Xiuying had been saying.
The group reconvened for the second half of the class. When Pai woke, Kunlan set him up in a corner on a blanket, and Nachi offered to sit with him and entertain him for a while. Halfway into another example of adverb clauses, Keifon felt his throat tighten and had to take a sip of tea to clear it, as his heart beat out someday, someday, someday. The conversation in the other room was animated, punctuated by frequent laughter.
Despite these happy distractions, the group made progress on complex sentences. At times, they supplied one another with more examples or ways to remember the rules. It wasn’t much time, not really. It was what they had, wedged in among work shifts and family obligations, and they made the best of it.
They reached a stopping point and packed up their books. Fujia looked out from the back room. “Wrapping up?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Keifon glanced back as Kunlan gathered up her son and absently patted his daughter’s head. Best not to mention the laughter he’d heard, not while Hui could overhear. Fujia would give him her unvarnished opinion sometime.
“Well then, safe travels, everyone. We’ll see you all next week.” As Fujia finished speaking, Nachi’s grandfather emerged from the back room. He walked slowly, reaching out with a steadying hand on the cabinets and tables as he crossed the room. Nachi swept her drawing pages off the table, shuffling them around before tucking them under her arm.
The room filled with chatter as the group broke up, the members filtering out. Keifon checked out of the window for their ride, but it had not yet arrived. They must have stopped before nine bells, then. No matter. Sister Xiuying declined Keifon’s offer of a ride, saying that she had a few stops to make in the neighborhood first.
“I’m sure our ride will be here in a minute,” he said, directing it toward Nachi. “Why don’t we head out and let Fujia relax?”
Their host saw them off without fanfare, though Hui took care to thank her for her hospitality and conversation. Soon they stood under a streetlamp, watching steam rise off the cobblestones.
“That was... something,” Hui remarked.
“...Oh?” Keifon peered down the street for the hired wagon.
“Your friend Fujia is...” Hui tapered off before he found a fitting word, and flipped his hands in the air. “No dancing around with that one. Everything is right out there in the open.”
Keifon’s heart had begun to speed up, although he recognized that Hui didn’t sound displeased. “Yeah, that’s Fujia’s way.”
Hui shook his head. “You can get away with anything here, can’t you. Speak your mind any old time. Won’t come back at anyone. That Fujia is just herself, no family, and yet she’s got pride.”
She had family, after a fashion. Thinking of Dr. Rushu, of the rest of the expatriates’ group, Keifon considered his words. Hui wouldn’t understand that, not yet. “In Kavera, people are more proud of what they do in their lifetimes than what their families have done.” He pushed his hands into his pockets. “I mean, people pass along advantages to their children if they have them. But a lot of people strike out on their own, and their friends and work associates don’t have anything to do with their families.”
“Everyone there was nice,” Nachi added.
“Yeah. Yeah, they are.”
Hui was about to answer when Keifon’s attention was drawn by a stranger bearing down on them. He hadn’t noticed one more walker in the street before, and now the man was heading right for him. Keifon shifted his stance to place himself between the stranger and Nachi and Hui.
“No loitering,” the stranger growled, close enough that Keifon’s stomach flipped at the smell of ale on his breath.
“We’re only waiting for a ride, friend,” Keifon said. His heart thundered in his ears. “It’s due any minute.”
One fist rose, an implicit threat. “The Watch put up notices, can’t you read?”
The police put up notices, not the Neighborhood Watch, which had no authority except in the minds of its followers. Nachi tugged at Keifon’s sleeve. He would not be bullied in front of her.
Nachi tugged on his sleeve again, and he glanced her way. Taking his eyes off the belligerent man brought another figure into sight across the road. Someone signaled to him from the mouth of an alleyway between two storefronts. A dark shape on their collar gave away their allegiance.
A member of the Wildern Collective, one of their scouts, trying to give him a way out. But Hui couldn’t escape this lout with his knees bothering him. And as much as Keifon appreciated the offer, he would not let this stand. Not after this perfect night.
Keifon laid a hand on Nachi’s shoulder and lifted the other casually, as if the movement were coincidental. He saw the scout nod and retreat into the alleyway, lingering in the shadows.
“There’s no law against waiting for a ride,” Keifon said. “Best to move along.”
“You move along,” the drunk man retorted. “You all think you can move in and take over. If it weren’t for all of you, we wouldn’t’ve all starved over the winter. You won’t get away with this.”
Though his body was flooded with lightning, something steadied his voice, something with Fujia’s defiance and Agna’s studied flippancy. With Darano’s justice, still a part of him. His lungs weren’t pulling in enough air, and yet somehow he could speak. “We’re breaking no laws, and you aren’t the police. Leave me and my family alone.”
Their interrogator seemed to look down and notice Nachi for the first time. His eyes narrowed. His mouth opened, but before he could reply, the hired wagon pulled up behind him.
Keifon waved to the driver. “And there’s our ride. You have a good evening.” He hoisted Nachi up to the wagon like a toddler, and she scrambled into a seat.
“You listen to me!” The Watchman grabbed Keifon’s shirt.
A quarter-turn and a stiff arm broke his clumsy hold. Keifon straightened his shirt and held a hand out to help Hui into the wagon. As soon as Nachi’s grandfather had climbed into his seat, Keifon jumped up behind him. He felt the man grab for him again, fingers grazing his belt, and resisted the reflex to kick. Instead he rapped on the edge of the driver’s seat, and the driver flicked the reins.
More words were flung at them as the wagon pulled away. Keifon felt cold sweat soak his skin, and his dinner threatened to reappear all over the floor of the wagon. Every bump and sway of the wagon felt ten times greater. He swallowed and counted breaths.
“Did you know that guy?”
Keifon wiped his face with his forearm. “N-no, honey. Just a bully.”
She grumbled and did not pry further. At least she didn’t know the words the man had tossed at them. Keifon wasn’t entirely sure he knew all of those words. He bent over and rested his head on his hands, hoping that the spinning would slow. The incline of the road and the motion of the wagon didn’t help.
They’d gotten away. No one had been hurt. He counted breaths over the rattle of the wheels on the road and the horses’ hoofbeats. He counted in Yanweian and Kaveran and made himself pull half-remembered Nessinian out of the depths of his fear-clouded mind. One, one, one. Two, two, two. Three, three, three. Don’t think about what might have happened. They were safe now. In time, he felt the grip around his heart loosen.
They passed the turning to the market square, and then the bookshop and Wei Cabinetry. Keifon looked up to see his own home pass by. Agna was safe inside, and soon Hui and Nachi would be safe in the inn. The building slid behind the crest of the hill as he comforted himself with the thought.
The wagon pulled up in front of the Primrose Hotel, the horses’ whickering alarmingly loud in the quiet. Keifon’s hands were steady as he counted out the coins to pay the driver. Meanwhile, Nachi leaped to the walkway and waited for the old men to disembark. Keifon jumped down and steadied Hui as he climbed out. Not much further for both of them.
The hotel’s lobby was warm and lit with a few lamps; the innkeeper’s apprentice nodded sleepily over a book at the counter. Hui pulled a key from his pocket and held it out to Nachi. “You go and start packing, little one.” At her worried look toward Keifon, Hui added, “We’ll be up.”
She accepted the key, waved to Keifon, and headed for the stairs. Hui took a seat on one of the fussy upholstered chairs near the fireplace. Keifon opened and closed his hands, willing his feet to stay rooted.
“So,” Hui said. “Care to tell me what happened back there?”
Keifon considered phrasing after phrasing. Finally he rubbed his face and rounded one of the other chairs to sit, hunched forward. Hui respected Fujia’s directness, didn’t he? Would he respect the same from someone younger, someone who was forever trying to prove himself?
“There are more Yanweians in town now,” he said at last. “Since the, the Economic Exchange Act.”
“Nameless, then,” Hui said.
“Mmn, many of them. And anyway, Kaverans don’t know the difference. They see all of us as a threat. Some of them do. Honestly...” He sat back, gesturing toward the door. “It isn’t many of them. Most don’t seem to care. There’s a gang in that neighborhood with an axe to grind. The rest... well, I’ll leave it up to you to judge, based on what you’ve seen.”
Nachi’s grandfather shrugged. “Apart from tonight, they just seem like regular people.” He thought it over, tapping a finger against the polished wooden arm of the chair. “He singled you out because you were Yanweian? He didn’t know you were...”
“He couldn’t have known. I’ve told everyone who knows me personally, and the Kaverans don’t understand what I mean. Agna doesn’t either, though I’ve tried.”
“So it’s all the same to them.” In his voice Keifon heard not quite horror and not quite admiration. Something unthinkable till this moment, considered for the first time.
“It really is,” Keifon said. “All anyone knows is what I’ve shown them. They respect Dr. Rushu because of her experience. Fujia because of her honesty. The Kaverans don’t know or care where they came from.”
A trace of amusement tinted Hui’s words. “You sound like one of those radicals.”
Keifon felt a smile lift his mouth. Bargi’s radicals, maybe. He’d take it as a compliment. “Not yet.”
“Well.” Planting his hands on the arms of the chair, Hui stood. “I can see why you stay here. You’ve got a good thing going for yourself, even with what happened tonight.”
He managed to stand, though his own knees felt wobbly. “Thank you, sir.”
Hui allowed him to come up to the room and say goodnight to Nachi. She clung to him as she always did; they both knew it was almost time to go. He could allow himself the hope that they would have many more days, many more chances. He’d tried to show them a side of his life without flaws, and his facade had cracked. Even so, Hui and Julin might come around. It didn’t seem so impossible now.
It was a short walk home from the Primrose, a short walk home to safety and light and Agna. In the morning, Hui and Nachi would journey home. He had to believe that this would be the first of many visits.
He’d called them his family. Leave me and my family alone. He’d said it in Kaveran, thank the gods. It had slipped from his mouth, because it was true somewhere deeper than he wanted to dig. Yanweian law did not support it, and he would never claim it aloud to them. It felt good for now, though, held in a secret space in his heart. It felt right.
Agna: Tools and Tasks
And no less to me than my beloved are you, my stars at night, my strength by day;
No less precious than air breathed, you my friends and confidantes —
The Kaveran verse skimmed through Agna’s mind without soaking in. She closed the Book of Lundra over her bookmark and handed it back over her shoulder. It was a quiet afternoon, and the air was heavy and still enough that she heard the soft tap of the book against the end table next to the couch.
“Do you want your other one?”
She was a few scenes into her umpteenth reading of Artemio and Scevola. The legendary romantic tragedy was not light reading by any stretch. “Enh. I’m fine.”
To illustrate her point, she settled in against Keifon’s chest and closed her eyes. If she had worked a full healing shift last night, the slow rise and fall of his breath would have lulled her to sleep. As it was, she’d spent a few hours in the lab and several more writing reports. Keifon turned a page with an audible rasp of paper on paper.
“I wanted to say thank you,” he said, pulling her up from her half-doze. “For everything you did while Nachi was here.”
“No trouble,” she hummed. “I hope Wildern and I made a good impression.”
“Mm. I think... we did the best we could.”
Something in his voice woke her fully, and she pushed herself up to look him in the face. “What is it?”
He grimaced and set his textbook on top of the Book of Lundra. “After the lesson at Fujia’s... someone tried to cause trouble. No one we know. And we got out of there before anything happened, but... Nachi and Hui both saw.” His sigh ruffled her hair. “Hui and I had a talk afterward. I don’t think it’s a lost cause, I think he respects what I’ve tried to build for myself. But...”
