Aur Child

Alai-Tiul looked towards Sann-Na’s cottage. Thick logs were linked together and sealed with chunks of moss. Its orientation was nearly the opposite of his coquina cottage back in Hill Village; the priority here was direct sunlight and good drainage. The building stood upon a hill overlooking a large lake, frozen white. A golden dawn hinted of spring through the tops of trees across the lake behind him; a brief promise that the darkest days of winter were behind. But only a slight tinge of warmth could be felt as that sunlight tapped gently against his wool coverings; the sun seemed more concerned with showering the cottage with its light and warmth, making Alai in his hammock nothing more than a byproduct of its illumination. He smelled the smoke as much as he saw it rising from the roof.

His tracks from a late-night arrival were still visible, especially the spot where he had stood when he had first arrived, contemplating whether or not to knock on the door and ask to sleep inside. The tracks skirted past the window where he had peeked in to be certain this was in fact Sann-Na’s cottage.

The cottage itself was actually two cottages side-by-side and linked together by a common roof section, creating a sort of breezeway between the two buildings. In that breezeway, he noticed several of Sann-Na’s travel garments airing out. Her skis and the pulk were also neatly standing against one wall in that shadowy space.

Alai frowned with disappointment. He was a dark spot on that snow-covered canvas. An unwelcome, unwanted mar to her idyllic surroundings, interloper to Sann-Na’s private world. Though warm and alive, only thanks to the skills taught to him by Sann-Na, he harbored a haunting chill inside him. He was trespassing, not physically but emotionally, on Sann-Na’s life. Yesterday, she had dismissed him. She had made it clear that they had no more need for one another. Yet he trailed behind like a lost puppy. He plagued her like a disease. I don’t belong here. Questions of worthlessness rushed into him, confounding him once more.

It was just at this moment of despair that a door within the breezeway opened with a click and a squeak. The combination of sounds, including footsteps approaching in the snow, woke Alai from his aching wallow. Walking towards him, in the ethereal light of the heavens, illuminated like an angelic gift from the stars, came Sanna. She was robed in a thick panoply of soft, billowy fabrics in light earth tone colors. Her body was completely covered except for the radiant round face, which glowed white in the sun as if it were the cherished moon itself floating steadily in his direction.

Sanna smiled slightly as she made eye contact with Alai. She stepped gingerly through the deep snow in thick, high-fitting boots lined with fur. She carried two wooden mugs of steaming tea in her mittened hands; The aromas of honey and herbs reached Alai as she approached his makeshift camp. She handed him one mug and found a seat on a large boulder opposite the hammock. Alai took the mug, sitting upright to face her. A smile mixed with surprise and relief swept across his face as he stared at the snowy angel before him. He had never seen her in this light before. He had never dreamed she could be so mesmerizing. The brutish, stone-faced trekker of the dark forest had metamorphosed into this floating, celestial being of the morning. He stared at her in a wonder.

She sipped the hot tea in silence. The soft feel of the worn wooden mug was warm in his hands. The loathsome thoughts that had oppressed him minutes ago vanished. In the presence of anyone else, it would have been excruciatingly uncomfortable for Alai to sit so long without having said a word. Indeed, the last words between the two of them had been at the mouth of the cave: “I want nothing more of you,” she had said.

Still, some things require words above and beyond actions. Words clarify, they can help the speaker to constrict a message to specifics. Words go beyond the general sentiment. They personalize an intention by framing it precisely how the speaker hopes the listener to understand. Perhaps he might intuit what it was she wanted him to know, but he yearned to better understand her.

“I ask forgiveness,” she said, as if she could read his mind. “I have been unfair.”

Alai gaped at her. He had interpreted her actions as a peacemaking of sorts, an offer to return to civility between two people who had not explicitly wronged one another yet nonetheless found themselves amiss. But this was only because Alai knew that he too had his share in the fault.

“No, I didn’t tell you everything,” he said. “I always meant to return the card, but something inside me hoped that… that they would be there. I should have told you. I’m sorry for that.”

“We each had unrealistic expectations,” she said, searching the sun for a modicum of warmth.

Alai tried to swallow the lump in his throat. All this time, he had somehow convinced himself that without explicit proof that Digambar was Sanna’s sister, he was not obligated to tell her about Digambar’s death. She hadn’t recognized the name when he had accidentally said it aboard the Odyssey. She hadn’t told him anything about her sister. It was only the Tors clan man who revealed that she even had a sister. And when Alai specifically asked her where her sister was, she didn’t confirm or deny her sister was missing. Despite all this, he could not deny that their resemblance was unmistakable.

Perhaps the tea and a smile would have been enough to settle the matter after all. It would have avoided the churn in his stomach that hinted at what he should do. Tell her the truth. But still, his pride was hurt. She had knowingly left him at the cliffs in the mountains at his own peril. He had been forced to chase her desperately all night if only to survive. She had apologized, but …

Alai was silent. The easy way out. Perhaps the apology itself had an ulterior motive: a renewed attempt to learn something, anything, about her sister.

“I should leave,” he said, searching for her intention.

“The sauna is warm,” she offered.

“What is a sauna?” he asked.

She laughed softly. Her eyes sparkled newly. The sun glowed off the side of her face. She replied, “A small room heated by a stove.”

“Won’t we get sweaty in all our clothes?”

Again, a laugh, almost an adoring one, from Sanna. “No, Alai, you must be naked.”

“Naked!” Alai stared at her unsure if he had heard her right.

“Yes, naked ...and alone. There is a small changing room before the sauna itself. Take your clothes off in there, and then you enter the sauna. By yourself.” She smiled at his somewhat relieved expression.

“What do I do in there?”

“You bathe there. There is hot water for your use.”

“No, I mean, why am I in there?”

“You’ve been skiing in the forest for a week. You must wash before coming in for breakfast. Take your time. If you want to go a few rounds, you can even come out to the snow to cool off.”

Alai frowned with confusion. Cooling off, naked, outside in the snow was nothing that might have ever occurred to him before. But this too seemed somehow part of the peace offering.

“Okay, thank you, Sanna. It’s all new to me, but I will try it.”

“Bathing is new to you?” she said with a teasing smirk as she stood up and took his empty cup.

Alai stuttered in surprise at her playfulness. “Bathing like that,” he replied.

“While you’re there, I will hang your travel clothes outside to air. There is a robe hanging for you to wear when you are done. You must be hungry after all that skiing yesterday.”

Alai was hungry and confused. He would have skipped the sauna and gone right to breakfast, but he also needed time to think. Maybe a room with hot water was not such a strange idea after all. Entering that tiny space, he immediately noticed that it was relaxing. During all this traveling, he hadn’t considered how he would bathe in the deep freeze of the forest. Its practicality, however, became self-evident. The hush of the fire in the stove lulled him into a state of tranquility. Aboard the Odyssey, the motion of the waves came at the cost of the vast depths beneath him. Here, on solid ground in the still forest, with the warmth of the sauna oven leaking into his body, there was a peace to be found unlike anywhere he’d ever been.

Only the fire mumbled from the corner. He followed Sanna’s instructions and threw a small ladle of water onto the rocks. Steam billowed up in an angry fuss, disappearing from sight and sound, reaching his back and face shortly afterward. The right thing, the best thing, he thought, would be to disappear from this place and return the Aur boule to Elder Tiul. Perhaps Calliope would take him home. There he would learn his fate. If they would decide to banish him from the village, he could leave with Calliope somewhere new. An adventure become a sentence. An escape become a prison. Together, they might hide from the world.

Moisture built up across the skin on his arms. He was already sweating beneath the thick mat of hair on his chest. No interruption, like those late nights when he sat out on the back porch listening to the sea. He watched the beads of sweat accumulate until their mass finally succumbed to gravity, sliding haphazardly down his arm. They tugged at other drops as they tumbled along.

He was alone. He very well might be so in future.

Alai emerged from the sauna dressing room into the cottage wearing a thick robe. He felt like he had a clear idea of what he should do for the first time in many weeks. He observed the settings at the table and the small spread of foods there.

“Well? How was your first sauna?” Sanna said to him from the corner of the cottage that served as the kitchen. He saw a wood burning stove there upon which a tea kettle was producing its own steam.

“You were right. It’s very relaxing, thank you,” he said.

She smiled. “Well, relax in there a bit more while I get the tea to the table.”

He felt awkward in just a robe, but he noticed she too was wearing nothing more, so he tried to ignore his anxiety. He didn’t feel comfortable enough to sit down, though, so he stepped quietly and slowly around the room, looking at its arrangement and contents. A green-patterned sofa in one corner with a low, wooden table between some sitting chairs. The thin metal plate that was Sanna’s scriptleaf was lying upon it. Another wood stove was burning here, radiating heat. He was still so warm that he shied to the other corner of the room. There he found a small chest of drawers with a fold out desk at the top. Above this was a shelf with some photos.

With a start, he saw her in the photo. Digambar. Digambar and Sanna together with a large, burly man he didn’t recognize but wearing the characteristic heavy garments of this region. Digambar and Sanna were smiling broadly. It seemed to be a day of great celebration. They were arm in arm, Digambar looking into the camera, Sanna turned toward her sister with unmistakable love and adoration spread across her face. There could be no denying it any longer. Digambar was Sanna’s sister.

All the calm and confidence left him instantly. He realized at that moment that all those plans he had made a few minutes ago in the sauna were in total ignorance of the most important, unresolved issue. The one he had been avoiding all this time.

“Ok, we’re ready now,” Sanna said with a kind smile as she gestured Alai towards the table. In a bit of a stupor, Alai approached, looking down. He recognized some items: dark bread, butter, cheese, sliced meat, a jar of what appeared to be pickled fish. His hands reached for things. He prepared a plate of small bites with little enthusiasm. The strong hunger he had felt just minutes earlier had left his stomach in a vacuum.

“You look awful,” she whispered. “Was the heat too much for you? You’re almost pale.”

Alai had been seated in the chair offered to him, facing Sanna. He could no longer avoid looking at her. She spoke directly to him. In that moment, he saw only Digambar’s sister before him. Her intentions became clear. This is why she had followed him from the Inn. This is why she had agreed to guide him to the caves. For her sister. He had withheld the most urgent information from her all this time. There was no pardon for his actions. How could he have been so cruel?

“Alai?”

“Sanna. I must tell you now, and I am very sorry to do it, but I plan to leave this morning back to Dragon’s Snout and return to the Odyssey.”

“Yes, I know,” Sanna said, “you told me that already.” She squeezed her eyebrows together, failing to understand his meaning.

“Yes, I must return the Aur boule to my clan elder, Gallia-Tiul.”

“Okay …”

“Yes, I will leave, well, right away I guess.”

“But,” she said, looking around the table with opening arms, “you can have breakfast first. And if you want another day to rest, you are very welcome to sleep tonight in the cottage.” She pointed to the living room sofa. “It is very comfortable to sleep there.”

Alai offered a slight smile of appreciation, but it was hard to express anything positive when the guilt ached so terribly inside. He watched her nibble on a slice of bread and lift her mug of tea. She looked so strong and sure of herself at that moment. He looked directly at her and opened his mouth. She stopped chewing. A look like that never led to something good.

“There is something else I must tell you, Sanna.”

Sanna gasped. Her eyes grew glassy, at that moment, she looked as if she already knew what he would say.

“Yes, Alai,” she cleared her throat. “What is it?”

“Your sister …”

“What …what about my sister?”

“I am so very sorry, Sanna. But, your sister, Digambar, is dead.”

“No.” She shook her head rapidly.

“Yes. I buried her at sea. Properly. When I first boarded Odyssey, I found her there.” This was the first time he looked up again to see Sanna. Her eyes were wettened, but she looked beyond upset. Angry, even. It was difficult to say it gently but clearly.

“I mean, she had died before I boarded the Odyssey. I wrapped her in her garments as best I could, and I spoke the blessing for the dead at sea we use at Hill Village. I didn’t know who she was until Calliope told me. She played her final journal message to me. That’s when I learned she was Digambar.”

“Digambar?” Sanna spoke the word in a low grunt. “What does Digambar mean?” Her brows angled sharply. Her face was red. Her fists were clenched.

“Your sister. Look, I know that’s why you agreed to guide me to the caves. I saw the photo on the shelf. I know now that your sister is Digambar. I have no idea how she got on board the Odyssey, but at least now you know everything I can tell you about her.”

Sanna seemed to return to that cautious, untrusting attitude she had when she first met Alai. She glowered at him and said, “My sister’s name is not Digambar.”

Alai stumbled to catch his breath. He had interpreted Sanna’s changes in expression as anger with him for withholding the truth so long. He had not expected her to challenge it. But what she said must be true; Sanna was not one for games. Especially not with a subject like this.

“But I saw the journal entry. It was her. Your sister. The very same as in that photo over there.” He reached around to point towards the chest and shelf. “Calliope spoke her name freely, ‘Digambar’, she said.”

Sanna regained her composure. “And you buried this Digambar at sea?”

“Yes.”

“And you say this Digambar looked like my sister?” She pointed to the other room where the photo stood.

“No, not looked like your sister. She was your sister. She wore the same fabric cloak as you do. When I saw that photo, then I knew it for sure. And the puukko, isn’t it hers? Look, I am so sorry. I could have told you earlier if I had put the pieces together, but I just didn’t really know and, well, you never told me about her or asked and I ... I never could really be certain until I saw that photo and I ...”

“Stop it!” she demanded with a sharp hit to the table. “Stop whatever it is you are saying. I don’t ...understand ...whatever it is you’re trying to tell me. But I’ve heard enough. You must be mistaken. My sister’s name is not Digambar and, and she can’t be dead.”

Sanna stared down into a corner. A painful silence pulled at Alai’s chest. It was a silence that comes about when there is nothing more ever needed to be said between two people. Both Sanna and Alai-Tiul absorbed that silence in their own private moment as they each had done in the heat of the sauna earlier. Alai admitted wholly to himself that he had waited too long to tell her the truth. And now, instead of feeling relieved of finally doing so, he only felt worse. She didn’t believe him. He had said something wrong. He had understood something wrong. If that wasn’t her sister, who was she? His head swirled with uncertainty.

“I should go,” he said.

“Yes.”

He stood up from the table.

“I’m sorry, Sanna. I don’t understand this myself. I am sure that…”

“Go.”

He returned to the dressing room for his travel clothes and packed his equipment, leaving the puukko on the bench beside his robe.