[Closed] The Miles Won't Phase Me

[Aremu Ediwo]

Early Evening, Hamis 18, 2720
West Dzide'rig, Isla Dzum

Aremu nodded. “For learning their letters and numbers,” he told Aurelie. “It’s very different than,” his face twitched solemn, and he veered away, for all he wished he had managed it earlier. “It’s a day school, normally four days a week,” Aremu explained. “Some of them might go on to Thul’Amat, though it’s rarer from places like this. Land owning imbali in Laus Oma or elsewhere would employ governesses and tutors, more like how things are done in Anaxas.”

“All the instruction is done in Estuan,” Aremu went on, smiling at Aurelie. “So almost everyone speaks some, at least.”

He had left off the talk of school when Ahura came back in. He wasn’t sure how much to say, whether it was really interesting to her; it seemed strange to him to describe it so, for all that he understood the way of things in Anaxas well enough to bridge some of the gaps, at least.

The worst was how easy it seemed to be to stray into his childhood around her. He found himself wanting to say things better left unsaid, for all that he had long since know better. She looked at him, wide-eyed, and the words just sort of started to come. He didn’t know why; he didn’t know if he wanted to reassure her or himself. My childhood was more like yours, I think, he could have said, easily. Not like this. He thought she understood that, already, but he didn’t know, either, and even to ask seemed strange.

He knew, already – from her sharp, sudden surprise at the idea that passives could own property – that the differences went deeper than he had quite realized. It made sense, of course; why should a person kept behind red brick walls their whole life be able to own property? What he hadn’t realized was that that, too, would be so different for her, that she might never have imagined such things.

There was a tight look on Aurelie’s face, beneath her smile, when she thanked them, after her wide-eyed protests. It’s no trouble, Aremu wanted to say, but he wasn’t quite sure how. We’re glad to, too, seemed wrong somehow, although he couldn’t quite have said why. Aurelie’s cheeks were red, too, beneath the freckles and the shade of the hat. Ahura glanced at him, and he met her gaze for a moment, glancing back down at Aurelie.

There was not so much more to discuss today, and Aremu didn’t want to keep Ahura; from the smell, he knew she was making something which would be ready before too long, and unless he missed his guess there would be hungry children eager to eat it before long. He took Aurelie back out of the small, cool hut; against the wall of the other house was a pile of bookbags and hastily removed clothing, and not so distantly they heard the whoops and shrieks of small voices raised in laughter.

“The village isn’t close enough to the shore to be flooded,” Aremu explained, leading Aurelie back along the path into the small patch of woods, towards the other half of Dzide’rig, “but there’s a cove just through those trees,” he pointed, “which runs along both sides. It’s a natural harbor, which I think is why there’s a village here to begin with.”

Before they started down into the human side, Aremu stopped, turning to look at Aurelie in the woods. “Is everything all right?” He asked, gently. His hand hovered, and then didn’t quite settle against her arm, lowering instead back down to his side. Do you want to go back to the house? He nearly asked. I can come back and get the vegetables myself, he wanted to say. He didn’t; he could have, and he didn’t. He thought she would tell him, if it was too much; perhaps it was only that he wanted so badly to believe that she would.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 18, 2720 - Early Evening | West Dzide'rig, Isla Dzum

They didn't linger long in Ahura's house. Putting her shoes back on as they left, Aurelie felt a little silly. They weren't terribly fussy, but it certainly took longer than sliding sandals on and off. The virtue of such things, she supposed; one among many. It was time to be preparing dinner, Aurelie knew, or close enough to it; the smell of food all through the house confirmed it for her.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought, even as she smiled and bid Ahura goodnight. Her face was thoughtful as they exited the house. In the distance she could hear the shrieking peals of children's laughter. That brought a smile to the corner of her mouth and lifted some of her thoughtfulness for a time. She looked down at the bags and the discarded clothing, and then away.

They went back along the path, to where it had forked before. She hadn't thought of flooding, although she supposed she probably should have. Aurelie nodded, following the slender line of Aremu's finger as he pointed at the trees. The sounds of the chickens and goats faded behind them, and the voices too. Aurelie didn't have her hand in her pocket then, but her hands seemed restless in front of her, folding and unfolding.

She stopped when Aremu did, before they headed down the other path. Aurelie looked up at him from under the brim of her hat. She had been smiling, absently; it faltered to surprise at the question. His hand came up, and for a moment she thought he might—touch her arm, her shoulder, her hand, something. He just lowered it back to his side, and Aurelie thought that was likely for the best.

"I'm sor—hmm. Everything is fine," she said, and chewed on her lip. For a moment longer she was silent, her face creased in a thoughtful frown. As they stood there, she could hear the sound of birds, insects—all kinds of the things that lived in the woods that surrounded places where people lived. Aurelie didn't know any of them, not a single one.

"I'm just thinking." Another pause, brief, while tried to gather her thoughts together. She looked up at Aremu eventually, not sure what to say or not say. It doesn't matter, she thought. I'm sorry to be so; I hadn't meant for you to notice. This kindness is too much; I haven't earned it. I don't think I ever could. She might have apologized if he hadn't already asked her not to, if she hadn't already agreed to try. She studied his face, wondering at the look on it.

"It's very different, that's all. It's—well, of course it is, I knew that, but... It's one thing to know," and here she gestured very vaguely at her head, "and another to... To really see. I don't know if that makes much sense." She shrugged, color rising again to her face.

"N-not—it's not bad or anything like that, the difference." Aurelie waved her hands as if she could ward off what she had just said as she hastily corrected herself. "It's just, er, well. More than I—thought. I suppose. Ah. Even b-before, when I... I'm just thinking too much. It's fine."

[Aremu Ediwo]

Early Evening, Hamis 18, 2720
Between East and West Dzide'rig, Isla Dzum

There had been a smile on Aurelie’s face as they made their way from the house, and Aremu had thought to let it go – at least until he saw her hands wringing lightly before her, fingers striped where it looked like thread had dug into them, sharp red lines with pale white skin all around them. He’d asked, then, and it seemed to have banished the last of the smile.

Aurelie began to apologize, and stopped herself; she chewed at her lip, teeth pressing firmly into the soft skin. She’d stared down at his hand as he’d reached for her. It wasn’t like that, Aremu had half-wanted to say; it wasn’t like that.

Aremu frowned a little when Aurelie said everything was fine, and then nodded, slowly, when she said she was thinking. He waited, still, hand and wrist tucking into the pocket of his pants, looking at her. In time, she looked up at him too, very intently, and he didn’t know what she was looking for, or whether or not he could try to offer it. He wanted to, but he knew all too well that that wasn’t enough, not really, not in the end.

Thinking about what? He wanted to ask, although he knew better. Thinking about this place? About your own? About me, or Ahura? For a moment he remembered something of what he had thought the first time he’d seen it, how he’d felt – the strangest sense of having had so much and yet so little, which he still did not know how to work through.

"“I think it makes sense,” Aremu said, very quietly; he wasn’t sure she’d heard him. One thing to know, she called it, and another thing to see. I felt that way, he could have said, about Brunnhold; it was one thing to know, and another to see. I never had seen, before, the first time we met. I knew, and I had thought about it more than it a little, but I didn’t know. It was different to see it, especially from the inside; it was different to pass through the gates, and to have them stand between me and the rest of the world, and to feel that nagging uncertainty that with all my hopes and preparations, I still might never leave again.

Not bad, Aurelie went on, sudden and hasty; he hadn’t thought she’d meant it that way. Something twitched on his face, now, and he frowned. More, she said, and then that she was thinking too much. Aremu shifted, looking at her. He knew he was frowning, now, more heavily than he’d meant to.

More how? He wanted to ask. It’s all right, he wanted to say; it’s all right for it to be a lot, Aurelie. They kept you locked up; it wasn’t your fault. Even Efere knows it, doesn’t he? He shifted, frowning. Thinking about what? He wanted to ask. You can tell me, he wanted to offer; I’m not much, and I don’t know how to help, but I can listen, anyway. I’m not good at this, Aurelie, he wanted to say; I can’t guess what you’re thinking, not consciously. I shouldn’t want to, if I could; they’re your thoughts, and I wouldn’t ever want to take that privacy from you.

But, he wanted to say, if you want to share them…

Aremu took a deep breath, feeling oddly as if he were steeling himself. "“More how?” He asked, quietly. He hadn’t thought of any better way to say it, in the end. He was only himself, after all.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 18, 2720 - Early Evening | Between East and West Dzide'rig, Isla Dzum

At least she made sense, or as much sense as she was capable of making. Quite frequently she did not, and her attempts to explain herself only made it worse as she added twists and loops on top of an already ill-expressed idea. She had continued anyway, correcting what she saw immediately as a flaw in her speaking. Perhaps she shouldn't have. Aremu was already frowning again, and when she tried something else twitched in his face that she didn't know how read.

The frowning only increased when she'd finished. Aurelie held herself still, willing her face to stay turned up and not cast back down towards the road. She wanted to smile, to make it like she'd never said anything. There was no point in worry, if that's what he was doing. She really was fine. Or would become so, soon enough, and there was nothing to do that would hasten it any. She couldn't find it in her to make the attempt; there was nothing she could do to truly make it like she'd never said anything, anyway.

Aurelie considered the question. More how, indeed. What had she meant by that? There were a lot of things she could have. She didn't know which she had meant most, when she said it. "More..." She tucked her hair behind her ear and thought of those children, of the houses, of all of it.

"I don't know how—aware, you are, of... of what is like, in Anaxas. It's—" Aurelie didn't know how to phrase this well; her thoughts were always tangled and took her too long to sort through to find a coherent line through them. It had felt this way before, too, sitting on that flaking garden bench. Aurelie turned to look at the trees, like she could find what to say written on the leaves of them.

"It is more than Brunnhold," she said slowly, frowning. She swallowed, and continued. If she just kept talking, she thought, she might come to the end of it and find she had said something after all. Maybe. Not always, but sometimes this was true. "That is considered a—kindness. You are not required to... There is nothing else, even if... No school, or work, or fa— There's just not..."

Some children are just left behind, she didn't want to say. She knew it happened, had heard stories. Some of them end up in the factories, and nobody loves them there any better than they are loved in Brunnhold either. Maybe less. My family loved me, so I was at Brunnhold instead. Or they can be kept at home, shuttered up forever. A dangerous option for all involved. It seemed so pitiful, suddenly; she didn't want to be pitied. She was angry at it, and sad, and frustrated that she had never even considered how truly different things could be. Were, somewhere else. Not even so far away—a two day journey, by airship. Hardly that far at all. And it might as well have been another world.

"My sister is much older than me," she said suddenly, turning back. She hadn't meant to. She had meant to say more about something bigger, something broader. Not this personal wound she hadn't quite realized she had. "Where I grew up... It was a big, old house. Bigger than—Brunnhold seemed not so much larger, when I arrived. And I was usually the only one in it. Except the staff, of course." Aurelie bit the inside of her cheek, trying to make herself stop. It was all of this together, it made her say things that didn't matter. Like her mind was so overwhelmed it didn't know what else to spit out.

"I'm sorry," she said then even though she had said she would try. "This is all very—it's just more different. Than I think I had really... understood. But we don't have to stand here while I... It is fine, really."

Her shoulders hunched, but her eyes were dry at least. She didn't know why she'd said that; she hadn't even realized she had been thinking about it so much. Her childhood had, really, been fine. At least she remembered it being so. Lonely, perhaps, but... Well, she had been just as much so after, hadn't she? And then she had been surrounded by people, all the time. So it was just as she said: it was all fine, in the end. Not, certainly, worth wasting their time here now.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Early Evening, Hamis 18, 2720
Between East and West Dzide'rig, Isla Dzum

Aurelie’s small face was tight and tense, and her gaze fixed on him. Aremu swallowed, and swallowed too the urge to walk back the question. He knew he was frowning; he didn’t know how to ask such things without a frown, for all that he wished he could. She shifted; she was frowning too, her small fingers coming up to push her hair away.

How aware, Aurelie said. Aremu didn’t interrupt; he didn’t think he could have, watching her intently. She turned and looked away, and he swallowed again, hard, and held still; his hand and wrist were tense against the edges of his pockets, the fingers on his left hand digging in slowly to the fabric over his legs, holding it tight.

More than Brunnhold, Aurelie called it. Nothing else, she said. He looked at her, trying to make sense of it, trying to listen, trying to understand. A kindness, she said, and he didn’t know that he could, quite.

She turned and looked back at her. Aremu shifted, and he swallowed, frowning still. He nodded, just a little, thinking of Efere running barefoot and bare-chested around the village, surrounded by playmates, swaddled in the warmth of Apadha’s love, and Ahura’s, Ulofo’s, even his uncle Tsede. I didn’t know either, Aremu wanted to say, that it could be like that. It was only a part of what she had said, only a corner.

Aremu shifted; the frown had all but closed over his face. He felt like wood over his skin, and he didn’t know how to change the shape of it. Not the liar’s mask, this one, but some other mask which he had worn for so many years, which had settled on to him.

It doesn’t have to be like it is, he wanted to tell her; he thought she understood that, now and that some of the ache came from that knowledge. It doesn’t – he didn’t know what else to say. He swallowed; he shifted a little more, looking at her.

“I…” Aremu’s voice was hoarse, when it emerged. He looked down at his feet, at the straps of the sandals which covered them, and the slightly dusty hem of his pants. He swallowed a little more, and he shifted. “It was strange for me too,” he said, quietly. He hadn’t known he would until he said it; he hadn’t known he could.

He looked back up at Aurelie, something solemn and aching on his face; he didn’t know what it was. His jaw tightened, and relaxed. “Not as much as for you, I know. There were things I I didn’t know when I came here, either, I…”

“I grew up in Thul Ka,” Aremu said, slowly, “in a place called Cinnamon Hill. It’s – um – the house we had was at least the size of the plantation house, and all for me, my older brother, and my mother and father. My brother was older as well, and busy with tutoring; I didn’t see him much. My father didn’t…” he couldn’t go there; a shadow darkened his face and he turned away. “I was close with my mother.” Aremu said, very evenly, through the tight ache in his throat and the churn of nausea in his stomach. “She made a little time for me most days, maybe half an hour. It wasn’t so…”

Aremu shook his head. He couldn’t; he couldn’t go on. He wanted to take the words back, to swallow them down and pretend he hadn’t spoken. He shook his head again. “I just meant to say,” Aremu tried to begin again, as if he could take it all back; his fingers were cramping from clenching at the fabric of his pants, “that I don’t know if I can understand, really, but I know at least that it must be strange, and it must be hard and I uh..” his breath caught, and hitched, and smoothed out.

“We can stand here as long as you like,” Aremu said, finally, very softly, looking at Aurelie through the shadow-dappled forest.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 18, 2720 - Early Evening | Between East and West Dzide'rig, Isla Dzum

Selfish, to have said what she said. She knew it was, because his face had closed down when not even an hour before he'd been flipping Efere over his shoulder. So the problem was her, and her thinking when she didn't need to be. There was tension written into his every line, and she regretted carrying on when she could have left well enough alone.

Still, she kept her eyes on him when she had finished speaking. He had nodded like he understood at parts, and seemed liked he hadn't at others. The light came through the forest in patches that highlighted Aremu's face in bits and pieces, like a puzzle only partly put together. She didn't know if it was the shadows or the bright spots that were the pieces that had already been found. He swallowed and shifted; the pieces changed shape then too.

There was a comfort and an ache too, in hearing that it had been strange for him as well. She wished, absurdly, that he had understood that part less. She wished even more that he hadn't understood the rest. She shouldn't have said anything, about her sister. About that house where she had grown up, ivy-covered and grand. Part of her wanted to show him, to point at it and say—that great house produced a shining gem like my sister, and it made also a drab little thing like me. Isn't that funny?

Her own face softened; it was hard to hold on to her own misery here looking at him. It's okay, she wanted to say; you don't have to keep going. It's fine—I wouldn't ask that of you. But he had begun and it seemed cruel to stop him, too, once he'd already started. She was selfishly curious, too. Aremu had mentioned his brother, in Dentis. Much as she thought she didn't want this kind of understanding, because of where it had to come from, she wanted to know just that much more about the man who was the reason she could stand here at all to hear all of this.

Aurelie had held silent and watchful the whole way through. It hurt to watch, but it would be worse to look away. And when he reached the end, looking at her, and told her they could stand there as long as she wanted... Aurelie inhaled. She stepped forward, hardly a step at all, just a little closer than she had been before. And she reached out her pale, freckled hand to rest on his arm. Just that, just her hand coming to rest there, gentle but less fleeting than when she had reached out to touch his hand on the ship hardly two days before.

A smile spread across her face then. Not a smile for how either of them felt now, but for how she wanted them to feel in the future. Hopeful and achingly sincere. She let her hand drop and she stepped back. Maybe that hadn't been worth anything, but she didn't know what else she could give.

"Thank you," she said; her voice sounded strange. She cleared her throat. She hoped he knew she meant for more than just offering to stand here with her in the woods while she collected herself. "I'm all right now, I think. Nothing dinner won't cure."

She found she wanted to take his hand again, but it was in his pocket and she couldn't ask. That was too much, going too far. It likely would only have made her feel any better, anyway. "This way, is it?" She pointed down the other road, the one they hadn't taken before, and tilted her head.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Early Evening, 18 Hamis, 2720
East Dzide'rig

Don’t, Aremu wanted to say as Aurelie came closer, don’t. His skin prickled and crawled, and he held himself still. She reached out and set her hand on his arm, for a moment like a heartbeat; he felt the fleeting pressure of her fingers and the edge of her palm, and then it was gone.

She smiled at him, and Aremu found he could smile back. He couldn’t have said what was on her face, but it was something he could bear, however unexpectedly, in the end.

“This way,” Aremu said, his smile softening. Somewhat to his surprise, it held.

East Dzide'rig was east only because of the curve of the cove; it was on the larger longer stretch of southern beach, set back against the woods, on the grassy lip that overlooked the white sand beach. Canoes lined the beach and the overhang; a few slightly larger boats bobbed in the bay.

There were many more houses here than there had been on the western side of the village, dozens rather than just a handful; they were scattered here and there, and with some arranged in rows around a sort of Main Street, sandy and busy. At this hour there were boats coming in, and men and women coming back from work or town.

Aremu knew many of the human men and women; he stopped here and there for a handshake or an easy greeting in Mugrobi, though they rarely lingered. All the clothing was bright and colorful, the same sort of vivid patterns Ahura had worn. Many of the men wore only trousers or even just a cloth wrapped expertly many times around the legs and tucked in at the waist; among them women, bare arms were common, and bare calves too.

The main street was a little market at this hour, busy enough. Children ran about; the smell of warm spicy fish stew and deep fried dough wafted into the air; men and women crouched here and there eating and talking as others shopped, and lilting, sonorous Mugrobi filled the air. Seagulls squawked overhead, just barely audible over the noise of the town.

Aremu went to an older man with a blanket spread out before him; he took a woven basket there, along with a cabbage, potato, onion, coriander, limes and the like. All of them were fresh; he chose carefully, studying his choices before he did, before finding the vegetable he wanted with careful fingers.

Next they went down to the edge of the town, where it just touched the beach; there Aremu bought a fresh looking fish from a man sitting on a stool in the grass. It was already drained and gutted, and they watched as the man scaled it with a quick flick of his knife, hacked the head and fins off, and wrapped it for them in a banana leaf. Aremu set this in the basket as well.

They went back through the town then; Aremu called a few more greetings, here and there, stopping for a few moments to talk to another in cheerful, sonorous Mugrobi. This one was shirtless as well; he was the only one Aremu would introduce Aurelie to.

“Aurelie,” Aremu said, turning to her with a smile, “this is Tsau pez Iso, the plantation’s foreman. Tsau, this is Aurelie, a guest of the house.”

Tsau grinned at Aurelie. “Ma’ralio, ada’na. Nice to meet you,” he translated, carefully.

Otherwise, they made their way back out of the village, onto the path; there was more traffic now, and a few more greetings. Even back on the main road there was traffic, all of it coming from the southwest.

“A lot of the village works in Western Port,” Aremu explained. “It’ll be just us once we get around the bend.” Aurelie had clung close to him through the market; he had never seen her eyes so wide.

“What did you think?” Aremu asked, softly, looking down at Aurelie. The light was slanting golden now, the sun beginning to set. It washed through her hair and lent her skin a glow, and if Aremu had been able to, he might have looked away.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 18, 2720 - Early Evening | East Dzide'rig, Isla Dzum

That stupid little smile on her face was more of a wish than an expression. Maybe a request. She had no idea how he'd take it, ultimately. Or the hand on his arm, for all that she didn't leave it there long. That felt like crossing a line, too, but she didn't know what else to do. Speaking any more had seemed like a worse idea. Aurelie had no way of knowing what he made of her—now, smiling like this, or in general. But he caught her smile and held it well enough. That was really all she could ask.

The eastern side of the village was bigger than the western, overlooking more of that spilled-sugar sand. When they came the main street had become a little market. It didn't look like the sort of thing that stayed in place all of the time; the crowd was bright and busy. Even the color of the clothing was more than in Anaxas, like Ahura's had been. Aurelie, who had worn her pale blue uniform for more than half her life, couldn't quite picture wearing colors so striking. A sparrow surrounded by parrots.

There was precious little opportunity for her to wonder at it either, because there was also so much more bare skin than there was at home. At first her eyes had gone a little wide, and her face more than a little red. She had stepped closer to Aremu, just shy of touching—that had been the crowd as much as anything, but Aurelie found she didn't know where to look. It was hot, she reasoned, and still couldn't help but feel it was all rather overwhelmingly inappropriate. She kept her eyes fixed mostly on the ground, or else on Aremu. She wondered, rather abruptly, if he dressed like that normally too; the thought was put very firmly away, so she could continue to walk forward like a sensible person.

She could, at least, look at the children as they ran about. That was the funny thing about Brunnhold, about being confined to the campus proper. She rarely got out to the parts of the city where people lived, and seeing children younger than school-age was a source of no small delight. Two boys were being chased by a girl slightly taller than him who looked mad as anything, shrieking with laughter. Eventually an older woman caught them, and though she couldn't hear or understand the words, it was clear she was scolding them. After, they turned sullenly to the girl; they might have apologized, or perhaps not. Either way, before long all three were running off together, laughing just as much as they had before. Aurelie watched them while Aremu bought a few things from an older man, a smile on her face.

It was strange for her, to be surrounded by so many humans. A different kind of fieldlessness than she was used to; not a lack (or even a difference, when she could find it) where there should have been something, but a natural kind of nothing. There was always a slight air of unease, or else pity, with those who came to Brunnhold to support the labor that the gated population alone could not. There was none of that here; Aurelie turned it over in her mind, not quite sure what to make of it yet.

On their way back, Aremu stopped here and there as he had before. He hadn't introduced her to anyone except Tsau, for which Aurelie found herself oddly grateful. Perhaps that was too unfriendly of her, but even a few words with quite so many people felt beyond her today. Later, maybe—and here her thoughts skidded to a halt, trying to frame how long "later" might be. At least she had managed to lift her face from the ground then, red as it was and stutter out a greeting in return. Even if she looked rather fixedly at the man's forehead and nowhere else.

It was only when they got around the bend of the road again and there was no one else that Aurelie felt herself relax. She didn't step away, not quite yet, but the tension in her shoulders eased. Aurelie looked up when he asked her what she thought, caught off-guard by the question.

"Think? Oh. It was very, uhm. Lively," she offered, almost like a question. She didn't really know what she thought, yet. It was hard to form much of an impression when she felt overwhelmed with embarrassment every time she looked up for too long. She kept that thought to herself; it seemed to her terribly silly, like something a child might say. And not a very clever one either. She didn't need to add to that impression any more than she did on a general basis, really.

Because he had asked, she reflected on the question a little more, frowning in concentration. It was difficult, with the way the golden light of the setting sun caught all the strong planes of his face and drew her attention there, rather than to her thoughts. Had she looked away it might have been easier, but it seemed strange to be so easily distracted so she didn't. "Easier," she said in the end, with half a smile. Not a happy one, but not sad either.

"What did you get?" she asked after a while. She would quite happily talk about dinner all the walk back to the house, if he let her.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Evening, 18 Hamis, 2720
The Ibutation House, Dzum

Lively, Aurelie called it. Aremu could have grinned, for a moment; lively, he wanted to say. Just wait until we see Western Port – or Laus Oma – and even they’re nothing, next to Thul Ka. He swallowed it, instead. In his mind the words sounded teasing and kind; he had an awful feeling, thinking of Aurelie walking as close to him as she could in the midst of the crowd, that they would emerge cruel, when that was the last thing he wanted.

He didn’t know much of Brunnhold; surely the kitchens there were busy, Aremu thought. Every kitchen he’d ever been in was, though they weren’t many. He imagined, too, the house she’d described, big and empty and lonely. He thought of her, too, dwarfed by all the humans; even he was, though Aremu knew he could hold his own amongst the field hands – he did, often enough, in the midst of the harvest – and that gave him a certain confidence. He hoped she hadn’t felt afraid; he didn’t think so. For all she’d clung close to him, he’d seen her smile, once or twice, looking around.

Easier, Aurelie said. Easier than…? Aremu wanted to ask that, too. Easier than the galdori with their fields? Easier than Ahura…? Easier than the ship? He didn’t ask, though he wanted to, very badly, but nodded instead, and smiled at her, encouragingly, all the same.

They walked in silence for a little while. “Oh, uh,” Aremu shifted the basket on his arm; he held it on his right, propped carefully. His left dug through it. “It’s a type of whitefish from the Tincta Basta. The villagers who don’t work in Laus Oma or on the plantations fish, mostly; a man can feed his family that way, and sell extra himself or to another merchant to buy the rest.” He grinned at Aurelie.

“I like this fish a lot,” Aremu went on, glancing down at it. That started a brief conversation about the sorts of fish available here; Aremu told Aurelie about the small bite-sized fish which one fried and ate, and the larger sorts available too, and about the clams and mussels that were dug up from the bottom of the sea.

“On some of the other islands and on the other side of Dzum, they farm the shellfish,” Aremu found himself explaining to Aurelie’s wide eyes. “They’ve sorted out the type of, uh, environments where they grow well, and they make… ah… like a garden, in the sea, I suppose, which encourages them to grow.”

In time they passed back through the edges of the gate. The sun was sinking down over the horizon, spilling brilliant color through the sky as they made their way back up to the house on the cliffside. Aremu found himself watching Aurelie as much as the sunset; he’d seen plenty of them, but there was something pleasant about her small face bathed in the pink golden light, her eyes wide and a happy little smile on her face.

Inside, Aremu set to work. He chopped up the onion, first, dicing it into small pieces.

He went to the pantry, then, and emerged with rice; he added some oil to the stove, and dropped in about a quarter of the onion, stirring it about. To that he added rice, threads of saffron from a small container, a few fragrant dried leaves, and a scattering of cashew nuts and dried raisins from the pantry. As it came to a boil, he draped a cloth over the top, covered it, and left it to cook.

Then Aremu turned his attention to the cabbage, carrots, and potato next; he peeled the potato with the scrape of a knife, his right wrist holding it still as thin strips of skin came loose. He chopped up the cabbage, the carrots, and the peeled potato, and a bit of garlic from the ceiling; he added some of the onion he’d cut before and the garlic to a pan of hot oil first, and started it cooking. Once they had softened, he added ginger which he’d mashed in the mortar and pestle, along with chili powder, coriander, basil, caraway and fenugreek, all dried and ground. The smell rose up into the kitchen, and Aremu’s stomach grumbled, noisily. He grinned sheepishly at Aurelie.

He added the carrots, potato and cabbage then, with a sprinkle of salt; he covered that pan too, so it cooked alongside the rice. He checked on the rice, stirring at it gently, and left it to continue cooking.

Aremu unwrapped the fish from the banana leaf, then; he fileted it with a sharp knife, though he left the skin on both of the large filets. He ran sensitive fingertips along the inside after he’d teased the spine and the larger bones away, tweezing out the small pieces as he found them, one by one.

Finally, Aremu took the lime he’d bought, and scraped off the outside into a thin pile; he squeezed the juice out as well. The zest he mixed with flour, paprika, and more of the dried coriander. He dredged the pieces in it, carefully, and set them out to rest.

Aremu checked on the vegetable mixture, then, stirring it around; he moved it to a cooler part of the stove, and left it to cook through, covered once more. The rice he moved off, gently fluffing it, and leaving it to cool.

It was easy enough to talk while cooking; any questions Aurelie had, he found himself happy to answer. Otherwise, he was content enough to cook in comfortable silence, only occasionally grinning over at her, and mostly occupying himself with the busy absorption of the kitchen, the smells and the careful, precise work, all of it done with a firm but delicate touch.

The last step was cooking the fish; Aremu added oil to another pan, letting it heat, and added the flour-coated fillets. They sizzled, hot, steaming, the smell washing out into the room. He cooked them on one side, and then the other; when it smelled done to him, Aremu added the lime juice, and took the handle of the pan, swirling it carefully.

“All right,” Aremu said, then, happily. He grinned at Aurelie. Sometime in the midst of it, he’d fetched down plates and forks and knives, and cloths for their hands, filled cups with water and set them down also. He served the rice first, heaping some on to each plate, and then the vegetables, yellow-tinted and tender and sprinkled with the chopped cilantro. Last, carefully, he set one of the fish fillets onto each plate. He brought Aurelie’s to the table first, and set it before her, and then carried his own over, and eased down into a seat. Aremu shifted for a moment, looking down at the plate, and then back at Aurelie.

Welcome, he wanted to say; I’m glad to you're here. All he could manage was a smile. “I hope you like it,” Aremu said, instead.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 18, 2720 - Evening | The Ibutatu Estate, Isla Dzum

The walk back did much to lift her out of heavier thoughts. Aremu hadn't pressed when she gave that nonsense answer, and Aurelie was glad. She didn't know that she could have made it more clear if she tried; that was likely obvious to him by now.

Aurelie hadn't expected her question to lead to such a full explanation of what sorts of fish were available, or that the other islands had shellfish farms on them. She ate seafood very little, really, and wouldn't have thought about it much had he not seemed unexpectedly enthusiastic. It was, in a word, charming; she would never on her life have wanted the conversation to go any other way.

The sun was painting the sky with all the brilliant colors of sunset by the time they reached the tumbled down gate again. She had, of course, seen many sunsets before, and still she stopped to watch this one from near the top of the cliff as it spread out over the water. Aurelie turned back to say something about—some idle comment about how pretty it was, or the colors, nothing important. Aremu was looking at her when she did, and she found she'd forgotten entirely what she wanted to say.

Dinner preparations started as soon as they got back inside the house. Aurelie once again thought to offer to help, but decided against it. She was tired, and it was as pleasant to sit and watch as it had been earlier in the day. She leaned against the back of the chair, twisting to face the kitchen. She hadn't the faintest idea what half of it was that Aremu added, and she asked every time. Some of it, she knew, slipped right back out of her mind immediately. That was all right, possibly; she could always ask again.

A few times she thought she might put her head on the table. She hadn't really any idea why she was so tired; she had done less today than she'd done any day in over ten years. The body could be absurd that way, she supposed. Aurelie stayed sitting upright, for fear that the second she put her arms down she would fall asleep. She laughed when Aremu's stomach protested at the wait, and paid rather rapt attention to his careful work of picking out each tiny fish bone, one by one.

Aremu cooked much like she had seen him do everything else—with precision and care, and a focus to each small detail at every step. She was oddly conscious of the closeness of her observation. There was nothing to it, she protested to herself; what else would she do but watch? And it didn't matter anyway. No harm ever came of just looking. As far as she knew.

She sat up straight again when Aremu turned to her and grinned. She had meant to get up and help at least bring plates to the table, but her mind was too slow to process her own intent. He brought one for her first; she waited while he sat.

"I can't imagine I won't," she said, sincerely and with enthusiasm. She looked at it a moment, a funny kind of admiration in the look. She was almost as hungry as she was tired, though, and food wasn't for staring at. Aurelie started with the rice, then the vegetables; the fish she tried last, reasoning it was likely still a bit too hot. All of the spices were more than she ever cooked with, and they were all were absolutely wonderful together.

"It's very good." She swallowed her bite and smiled, wide and delighted. "You'll have to show me how to make any of it when I am more likely to remember—if you wouldn't mind, I mean."

That was, really, the highest compliment she knew how to give. Aside from, of course, leaving off any other discussion to eat, giving each bite her full attention.