Refugees

  Chapter 29

  Mud - Amanki

  Once again, Baskrod, Manhera and I were sailing down the Lanaduk River, which cut through the flat muddy fields past low reed covered banks.

  “I was wearing the cylinder seal so Vlabrez would think that I was an important man. There’s no telling how he would have treated us if he had not thought that I could repay him. He was not a gracious host,” Baskrod explained to me, slipping back into the Webby language.

  He took the seal off his neck and reached out his hand to me to return it from where he sat.

  “Here, Amanki, this belongs to you.”

  “Thanks,” I said as I put it over my neck again, then held it up to inspect it. In addition to the holes on either end, there was a slit along the side, and the cylinder was covered with markings, but none of them made any sense to me.

  “I’d put it someplace not quite so visible if I were you,” Baskrod suggested.

  I carefully tucked the string out of sight under my tunic.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked Baskrod. “You look so much better!”

  “Yes, much better, praise Adon!” said Baskrod with a smile, before turning to Manhera. “And thank you, Manhera. You have been blessed with healing hands and a kind heart. Of course, I also owe my gratitude to my good friends in Kalpok who have been so generous with the gifts from their forest.

  “Kalpok?” I asked. Baskrod had taught me about forests. I had always been fascinated by the thought of a land filled with trees.

  “It is a village deep in the Mesmeringa Forest, far to the west, where I had hoped to be right now, actually. The ways of Adon are mysterious. Yet, if we trust in Him, He will make straight our paths.”

  “What about hospitality to strangers?” Manhera blurted out suddenly and surprisingly vehemently, ignoring our conversation about forests. “In our village, we would have shown weary travelers kindness regardless of who they were or whether they could pay.”

  It took me a moment to realize Manhera was still upset over the incident with Vlabrez. For me, the conversation about the forest had been a welcome escape from the present realities of life.

  Baskrod responded gently, “Yes, Manhera, it should be as you say. But people from the city are not always as welcoming as villagers. They deal with strangers every day, and have often learned to be suspicious from bad experiences. I could tell right away from the way he was dressed with the fringes on his clothing that this man was a transplant from the city. I am sorry to say that you and Amanki have much to learn before we reach the capital.”

  “In what kind of place do people pick and choose whether to offer hospitality? Haven’t they been taught simple decency?” Manhera started and then took a deep breath.

  I could tell Manhera wanted to say more, but she suddenly became quiet, obviously making an effort to compose herself. Her anger at Vlabrez seemed incongruent when placed in perspective with the forgiveness she seemed to be willing to offer the mud beasts for their unspeakable evil. Still, somehow it had felt good to see her mad. I was actually disappointed that her anger seemed to pass so quickly.

  I had been enjoying the conversation with Baskrod, which reminded me of the days when my thirst for knowledge of faraway places was for enjoyment and escape rather than survival. I wanted to go back to the simple days in Arvuk when all I had to worry about was harvesting the barley or whether the fish were biting and knowledge was for fun. There were dangers from sickness, accidents, and floods in Arvuk, but at least those were familiar, if unpredictable, dangers. Now my head was spinning from completely unknown dangers appearing from every direction. I wanted to go home, but my home no longer existed.

  We were travelling at a steady pace down the river, past fields of nothing but dried mud. I realized that Baskrod had not really answered my question about the cylinder seal. In fact, he had done very little answering of questions these days, and I had so many questions that my head was bursting. Everything he said brought new questions to mind. I started with the present:

  “Right now, where are we headed?” I asked Baskrod.

  “We are sailing downstream toward the mouth of the Lanaduk River, and from there we will sail out into the Ortaz Sea to reach the great Webby city of Waduk. We will stop in Waduk to obtain information and find better transportation to Tzoladia,” Baskrod said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  “I am a farm boy from a small village and almost everything I know about the world beyond Arvuk, is what you have told me,” I spoke honestly and openly. “So please tell me now, why are we going to Tzoladia? What will we find there that we cannot find here?”

  Manhera turned and gazed steadily at Baskrod. I realized that I had put into words what she wanted to know. We waited for an answer.

  “The world is changing, Amanki. It is no longer safe for you to wait in Arvuk hoping the danger will not find you. Sometimes the best place to hide is right under the belly of the beast. It is time we went toward the danger instead of away from it.”

  “But I thought we were sailing away from the danger,” I lamented.

  “We are,” Baskrod agreed. Sometimes it seemed that he spoke in paradoxes. On lazy fishing days with Baskrod, I had liked to swim down the channels of his thinking to try to understand uncharted paths, but right now I was hungry and tired. I realized suddenly that while Baskrod and Manhera had been eating at the stranger’s table, I had been working in the hot sun. I sullenly began looking through the supplies for something good to eat. I decided it was best to eat first and talk later.

  Manhera moved closer and helped unwrap some bread for me to eat.

  “Thank you, Manhera,” I said, as she retired back to her seat in her quiet, gentle way. I realized how it soothed my spirit just to have her near. She opened a jar with something in it that looked like dried, shredded leaves, and dropped them into some water in another jar that had been sitting in a sunny spot. Earlier, I had seen her place seeds in the jar of water. As I finished the bread, she brought me the jar filled with a warm, gold colored liquid.

  “It’s Mesmeringa tea,” Manhera said, “the envy of kings.” And she laughed her golden laugh, smiling at me with the tea in her outstretched hand. “It will give you strength while you sleep.”

  I felt lost in a sea of curiosity. “This tea,” I began, “you give it to me, yet you call it the envy of kings?” I continued, as I cupped it in my hands and sniffed its inviting aroma, almost afraid to taste it.

  “Yes,” Baskrod interposed. “Kings desire the drink you hold. It is more rare and expensive than gold. The Gliders keep the gifts of their beloved Mesmeringa Forest well-guarded from the outside world. When we reach the cities, it would be wise not to spread the word that our boat carries such riches.”

  Intrigued, I lifted the jar to my mouth and took a sip. It was sweet and had a smooth spice I had never tasted before. Once again, I cupped it in my hands and breathed in the sweet odor, then drank deeply. The taste delighted my tongue and it soothed my throat as it flowed down. No wonder Manhera had called it the envy of kings.

  The experience was so completely fulfilling that it had almost swept away my curiosity about the tea’s origins.

  “Where did you say this came from?” I asked.

  “As I was saying earlier, I happen to be close friends with some of the Gliders of Kalpok, the hidden village in the Mesmeringa Forest,” Baskrod replied. “When I am not fishing on the Lanaduk, I sometimes fish on the Alfon River, which leads to Kalpok.”

  “Who are the Gliders?” I asked, realizing every minute that there was more to this wise fisherman than I had ever dreamed.

  “Their village is built high among giant trees. They are called Gliders because just as you have extra flaps of skin between your toes which allow you to better maneuver in the water, they have extra flaps of skin that stretch between their ankles and their wrists that allow them to maneuver better in the air. They leap into the air and glide from tree to tree. In Tzoladia, you are to
meet one of the Gliders. Her name is Brina, and she is about your age.”

  As Baskrod spoke of these wonders, I continued to drink the tea. For the first time since I had left Arvuk, I felt excited about the adventure that lay ahead, yet at the same time I felt very sleepy. Suddenly filled with gratitude, I turned to Manhera, who had been waiting silently nearby.

  “Now that was delicious!” I said. “Thank you.”

  She bowed her head and gave me a gracious smile. I grinned back at her, then smoothed some blankets and lay down in the rounded bottom of the boat. The gentle swaying as we sailed along the river soon lulled me to sleep. It felt as if I were cradled in her smile.