Away from Leeward: Colan 2
“Now please stop the two playing,” said his mother said as she put a sizzling pot down off the stove to cool.
Colan sighed and walked reluctantly toward the playpen.
Screening was expensive and when Colan’s father was alive he helped the family squeeze just enough money for screens on the doors and for a playpen. Then, only Colan was a baby and even so the family was in debt for over a year. When Colan’s grandfather and father went with the army to get water for the town, Colan’s grandmother, mother, and aunt managed to get the family to rights again and out of debt. Soon after that the battalion came back, but only Grandfather returned to the family. No one exactly knew how his father disappeared, including his grandfather, who had lost sight of his son in the middle of a battle. Now, the playpen was old and had holes in it, but it would take a fortune to fix it.
Colan went and picked up his cousin, Vick, trying to wrench away a little ball from his hands that his grandfather had brought him one day after returning from a water trip. Vick loved the ball and would often spend hours of time just rolling it between his hands. He was always a quiet child, but curious and even before he could walk the family had often found him somehow out of the playpen and crawling about the house. Since he learned how to use his legs, he was always wandering around the house and getting into even more trouble. When Grandfather brought the ball home, he gave it to Vick to hold onto, never intending for the boy to cling to it and never share.
Colan sighed and watched Vick play for a while. Colan laid his hand on Vick’s forehead and quietly chanted the bliss hymn to let him be. There was an unspoken rule that his grandmother would never be satisfied unless he had done something to every child, though Colan didn’t know why. He wondered guiltily if he needed to chant to Grandmother more than the children.
Kelly, his third and youngest cousin, was almost as grumpy as Grandmother in Colan’s opinion. She was having a temper tantrum for some reason unknown and beat Colan with her tiny fists when he held her to his chest for full effect of the hymn he was about to chant. Kelly was another child that no one could quiet, except for Colan and his father. Colan debated on what hymn to use and decided on his usual combination. First, he slowly started the silence hymn just starting with the introduction. Then, doing a transition that he improvised every time, went into the bliss hymn while etching horses and sunshine in her mind. Finishing off with the sleep hymn, he laid Kelly down in the playpen.
By then his aunt and uncle had returned home, tired as always. His grandfather came sauntering into the house as soon as dinner was placed on the table. Colan admired his perfect timing, if not much else. His grandmother opened her eyes and wheeled over to the head of the table.
“Mother,” Colan’s mother said testily. “Please don’t sit in Daniel’s spot.”
“I’ll sit where I like,” his grandmother retorted. “You’ll say nothing of the sort.”
His mother rolled her eyes, but said nothing more as she placed the steaming hot vegetable and lamb bowl in the center of the table. After retorting that Colan had taken too much to eat and not to be so greedy, his grandmother started off their dinner conversation, as she always did, with a little gossip.
“Mother please,” Colan’s uncle said.
“Nonsense,” she said, “what’s the use of being able to commune if you can’t use it?”
Communing was a common trick that elderly witches who couldn’t use their powers in service often did. They were able to talk without ever leaving their houses and could do so silently without eavesdroppers. His grandmother had used her power as a fortuneteller and quite a famous one at that. She had worked in the service being able to accurately predict the motives and moves of the opponent they were fighting. She could predict the future and read minds, which Colan was sure hadn’t gone away. Luckily for her, she had gotten so well at her art, she needed to only concentrate to be able to perform a spell.
Colan’s uncle rolled his eyes.
“Silvia is looking for new nursemaids,” Colan’s grandmother said looking at her younger daughter-in-law, “no one knows how she got pregnant, but there are some rumors.”
“Her last husband died from pneumonia, didn’t he?” Colan’s mother asked as she spooned out more dinner onto hers and Colan’s plates.
“In that last rainstorm, yes, he did,” his grandmother answered back. “Jenna, you might want to look for a job, there,” she said to her younger daughter-in-law.
Colan’s aunt blushed. “I don’t think so, mother.”
His grandmother opened her mouth for a witty retort, but stopped herself and took another bite of food.
“There seems to be quite a demand for young recruits,” Colan’s grandfather said turning to Colan. “There’s one place you haven’t looked and they’re looking long and hard for magis.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Charles,” his grandmother said, gaining her speech again. “You can’t possibly expect the boy to go into the service. He’s not even trained in his art and besides,” she said taking a sip of milk from her wooden goblet, “he doesn’t have the build.”
Colan blushed.
“Furthermore,” she continued, “I don’t think it would be good for him to march right into a death trap. The only reason they’re asking for more recruits is because there seem to be more fire dragons and dust wolves than ever before and they keep losing people in the fight.”
“So you don’t just get gossip from those little chats of yours,” Grandfather said under his breath. But it didn’t matter how loud he said it, she still turned red and huffed out angrily.
“I’ll help you clear the table, Maggie,” Aunt Jenna said rising from her chair and grabbing a couple plates that she could reach. Her stomach bulged under the blue dress she was wearing ever so slightly, but enough for her step to become cumbersome. She smiled at her husband as she walked towards the kitchen with their plates.
Colan started to get up, but his grandfather stopped him and put his hand on his shoulder. Colan’s uncle got up from his seat and walked towards the bookshelf where their prayer books were held. Almost as important as the meal itself was the prayer afterwards in thanks for it. The service seemed the only thing keeping the family together, Colan remarked, as his grandfather opened up the books once everyone was seated again and began speaking in the ancient desert tongue various words of faith to their goddess, Alorian. She had supposedly saved the world from destruction by covering it with sand, the one thing the demons could not stand because whenever they looked up at the humans above to play tricks on them and kill them, it would get in their eyes and they were blinded. Colan had always wondered why she had created the dust wolves and fire dragons if her sand would be enough protection. And why her other creatures had to kill the villagers to be able to survive. But such talk was sacrilegious and would most likely get him punished severely by more than just his grandmother.
When they finished everyone got ready for bed. His mother placed a plate of food outside for the desert spirits, guardians, and holy subjects of goddess Alorian and then went to her room with the other children, alone as always. Colan listened at his thin door as she shut the door and blew out her candle. He had listened to her tell countless stories to his family, but tonight, for some reason, she did not bother with her usual evening ritual. Close to getting out of bed and going down the hall, Colan heard his grandmother get up and go to her daughter-in-law’s room and shut the door.
His grandmother must have performed a silent charm because he did not hear their voices, though he knew the walls were not thick enough to cover them up. He was afraid of what they were saying: that he needed to find an apprenticeship before he was too old. He also knew shortly after that, he was going to be pressured to find a wife and the prospect of both, scared him just a bit. He knew he had to grow up, but he wasn’t sure he was ready and with his father gone, completely lost as to how he was suppose to get there.
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