The First Life of Tanan (3 page)

CHAPTER SIX

Jelak had been the constable in Port Billen for longer than most of the people in the village had been alive.  Fortunately, Port Billen was such a quiet village that Jelak, who had seen his eightieth birthday come and go, was able to spend a great deal of his time sitting on his favorite bench near the docks.  The weather in Port Billen was nice most of the time, and the central location of Jelak’s bench let him keep an eye on the docks and the small town square, which was sort of a community park that adjoined the village’s modest seafront. 

The square was ringed with shops, the Rusty Hook tavern, and Lindelin’s clinic.  A single cobblestone street began at the docks, ran through the town square, and doglegged its way up the side of the bluff that the village was built on.  At the top of the bluff there were four houses, the Port Billen school, and the Abbey.  Behind the Abbey was the town’s cemetery.  Behind that, was forest.

The Constable’s office was just up the hill from the square at the first bend.  It was a single room building with Jelak’s desk on one side, and an iron barred holding cell on the other.  Jelak went to the Constable’s office every morning to sweep the floor, polish the desk, and occasionally oil the hinges on the holding cell door.  Once the  office was cleaned, Jelak would close it up and spend the rest of his day patrolling the town.

He always had lunch at the Rusty Hook tavern, most often with his friend Lindelin, and sometimes with other folks who invited him to join them.

After having his lunch, Jelak would stop by the Apothecary and see if Anin had any prescriptions that he could deliver on his afternoon walk up to the Abbey and back.  The rest of the time he could be found sitting on his bench in the town square.

•        •        •

Jelak was sitting on that bench when Kirkik, an officer with the King’s Legion, arrived in Port Billen.  The old Constable watched the young soldier come down the street, followed by a line of children, and enter the Apothecary.  The children, having been warned by the soldier not to follow him into the Apothecary, milled around for a moment and then spotted Jelak on his bench, and rushed over to talk excitedly about the soldier.

When the soldier emerged from Anin’s shop some time later, Jelak asked the children, in his best conspiratorial tone, to go keep watch at the top of the hill in case any more soldiers came into town.  The children, excited to be entrusted with such an important mission, dashed past Kirkik and up the hill.

Kirkik walked across the square and stood in front of Jelak, who rose from his bench to greet the younger man. 

“Are you Jelak?” asked Kirkik.

“I am,” said Jelak.  “Pleased to meet you.  What’s your name, son?”

“My name is Kirkik.  Can we go to your office to talk?”

Jelak lead Kirkik up the hill toward his office, stopping several times to speak with people that they met along the way.  Kirkik found this very annoying.

Once they reached the Constable’s office, Kirkik spent an hour questioning Jelak about Tanan, Tanan’s family, and about the day Tanan had been brought to Port Billen.  When the interview was complete, Kirkik left town.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Tanan was not able to learn his first bit of magic in a day as he had hoped, but that was not due to any lack of effort.  The boy spent every free moment for the next two weeks sitting cross-legged on the floor of his room, concentrating on feeling the cool white light in his belly.

“I can’t figure out how I’m supposed to make the cold light show up in my stomach,” he said to his grandfather one evening at the dinner table.

“You cannot force it, Tanan.  If it’s there you’ll find it.  Once you learn how to see it, you’ll find that it’s not so difficult to manipulate.  That is how it is with all magic.”

“Father,” said Tanan, turning to Anin.  “How long did it take you to learn?”

Anin looked at his father and the two men smiled.  “How long did it take me?”

Lindelin shrugged.  “Seems like it was the better part of two years.  But you were a terrible student!”  The two men laughed.

Tanan slumped in his chair.  “I hope it doesn’t take me two years,” he said meekly.

•        •        •

In fact, it did not take two years for Tanan to learn his first bit of magic.  Two days after the conversation around the dinner table, Tanan walked up to Lindelin and placed an ice cold hand on his forearm.  He received a coveted pat on the head from his grandfather, and a promise for further lessons very soon.

Tanan practiced his trick until he was able to produce an icy cold hand on demand.

•        •        •

The next Saturday, during breakfast, Lindelin told Tanan that the two of them would be taking a trip that day to see a friend.  He asked Tanan to fill two canteens with water and pack a bag with some food for lunch.

Lindelin and Tanan started out shortly after breakfast and walked inland along the road toward the town of Yants Bay.  Tanan had been to Yants Bay once with his father, who made the trip a few times a year to trade medicinal plants with the Apothecary in that town.

After they had been walking for about an hour, Lindelin led them off the road, turning right into the forest.  They followed a rough trail through the woods and up the side of the mountain.  At midday they stopped and sat on a large rock to have their lunch.

“Grandfather, are you the oldest man in Port Billen?”

“No,” replied Lindelin, “there are a few people in our village that are older than I am.  Constable Jelak is a year or two older than I am, I believe.”

“Jelak is always falling asleep on his bench, and he walks slow.  When I walk with you, I have to go fast to keep up.”

“You know that I am a healer.  I use magic a little each day, to maintain my body.  I have been able, over the years, to slow down the effects of age.  Some healers have been able to live very long lives by using magic to slow the natural aging process.”

“I think everyone should do that,” said Tanan.

“Not everyone can do magic.  You know that.  And among those who can, not everyone has the gift of healing magic as I do.”

“Do you think I might be able to do that kind of magic someday?”

Lindelin looked at his grandson with affection and said, “It wouldn’t surprise me, Tanan.  And that is why we are going to visit Soama.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Soama was on hands and knees in his garden, pulling weeds from a row of onions when Lindelin and Tanan came walking up the path to his secluded mountain Abbey.  He was happy to see his old friend. He got to his feet, wiping dirty hands on even dirtier trousers, and wrapped Lindelin in an iron grip hug. Lindelin returned the embrace with enthusiasm. It had been far too long since he had seen his friend Soama.

“Nine years?” asked the Abbot, grasping Lindelin firmly by the shoulders and inspecting him at arm’s length.

“Nine years,” Lindelin replied, “and far too long at that.  How are you, my friend?”

Soama patted his friend on the shoulder and said, “I am very well.  And I am so happy to see you.”

He turned to Tanan.  “And you’re Tanan.”

Tanan smiled awkwardly, “I’m pleased to meet you, sir.”

Soama returned the smile.  “The last time I saw you, you were still a baby.  I see you’re grown up.”

Soama motioned for them to follow him, and the group walked up the hill toward the Abbey.

“You’ve come just in time for dinner,” Soama said, “I hope you’re hungry, because I’ve had a stew on since mid day.”

Tanan, like most ten year old boys, was indeed hungry, and said so to the great delight and approval of Soama.

When they reached the Abbey, Soama excused himself and disappeared into the building.  Lindelin walked into the Abbey, and Tanan followed him in.  They were in a small kitchen.  Lindelin pulled a chair back from the table that dominated the room and sat down with a sigh of relief.  It had been a long walk, and despite the increased vitality his magic gave him, he was still an old man.

Tanan looked around the room.  In Port Billen, most of the buildings were made from stone.  Soama’s Abbey was built entirely of finely cut, carved and polished wood.  In the corner of the kitchen was a large black stove with a pipe running up through the roof.  Unlike the stoves in Port Billen, which were built from brick and had only plates of iron on the top, this stove was made entirely of iron.

When Soama returned, he had washed up and changed out of his dirty gardening clothes and into the simple blue cassock that Abbots normally wore.

“Food!” cried Soama, and began clearing books and papers from the table.  He pulled down intricately painted and very delicate bowls from a  cupboard and handed them to Tanan, who set one at each place.  A large brown loaf of bread, wrapped in dark paper, appeared from somewhere and was placed upon the table.

While Soama ladled stew into the bowls, Lindelin and Tanan stepped outside to wash their hands using water from a bucket next to the well.  They returned to the kitchen where they joined Soama at the table and dug into the stew.

“How do you like the it, Tanan?” asked Soama, after a few bites.  Tanan thought the stew was terrible.  It tasted like dirt in his mouth.

“Uhm, it’s very good,” the boy replied.

Soama and Lindelin roared with laughter.

“You’re a poor liar,” said Lindelin, “and Soama is an even worse cook. The only reason he can eat his own cooking is because his taste buds gave up and died many years ago.”

“It’s true,” said Soama with a shrug and a grin.

The bread was quite good.  Soama told them that he had brought it back from a recent trip to Sothport.

Lindelin poured a small glass of red wine and handed it to Tanan.  “This will help with the taste.”  It did help.

When dinner was finished, Tanan cleared the table and helped Soama wash and put away the dishes.

Night had crept in on them while they had their dinner, and Soama showed Tanan to one of the extra rooms.  After the long walk Tanan was tired and was soon asleep.

•        •        •

Soama returned to the kitchen, where Lindelin had lit a small oil lamp.  He sat at the table and poured more wine into his glass.

“Now,” he said, “tell me why you’ve come.”

“I want to leave Tanan with you.” Said Lindelin.  “He has shown the ability to do magic already. I am also concerned that the King’s Legion might be suspicious of him.”

Soama took a drink of his wine.  “Have the authorities discovered that he is a child of the Lataki?”

“There was a Legion man in Port Billen. He questioned Sweelin, Anin and Jelak about Tanan. I don’t think they know he’s Lataki, but it seems the census raised some concerns at the capital.”

“This is my fault,” said Soama.  “I neglected to tell Sweelin about the boy when he took over the Abbey in Port Billen.  It would have been best to just leave the boy off the census.  I should have thought about that when I left.”

Lindelin waved away the idea of Soama being at fault.  “They were bound to find out about Tanan sooner or later.  Half the village suspects that Anin brought him from the mainland. It’s a miracle it’s taken this long for the Legion to catch wind of this. They’ll figure out the truth sooner or later.”

Soama sat his glass on the table and refilled it.  “Sooner, I’d expect. We’ll need to be ready to take him off the island quickly when that happens. He will be welcomed at Jesera.”

Jesera was a monastery hundreds of miles north of Komisan. It’s existence was a closely guarded Abbot secret. Lindelin was one of very few non-Abbots that knew about Jesera.

Lindelin nodded. “Anin and I will go with him. I should have retired ten years ago, and Anin could do his work anywhere. But I will feel bad leaving Port Billen without a Doctor or Apothecary.”

“Issues that will be dealt with easily enough,” said Soama. “I will arrange for a new doctor and Apothecary to find their way to Port Billen.”

“Let’s make the necessary preparations,” said Lindelin.  “Will you be able to arrange for an Abbot to take us to Jesera?”

“I think,” said Soama, “that I will take you to Jesera myself. You should return to Port Billen soon and discreetly wrap up your affairs.”

“I will go back first thing in the morning.”

The men sat in silence for several minutes, drinking wine and making plans for their departure from Komisan.

Finally, Soama’s thoughts came back around to what Lindelin had told him about Tanan. “You said that the boy has shown the ability to do magic?”

Lindelin nodded. “He mastered cold summoning in less than a month.”

Soama looked skeptical.  “He is quite young.”

“Observe him, Soama. Spend time with the boy and you will see.”

CHAPTER NINE

Kirkik was leaning against the wall in an ornately decorated antechamber in the Royal Palace. He was waiting to see his royal majesty, King Dannap.  The King was always busy with one thing or another, most of it complete nonsense.  Waiting to see him was normal.

When the big double doors to the King’s throne room finally opened, a procession of finely dressed and self-important people filed out, completely ignoring him as they moved through the room. At the rear of the procession was Nim, the King’s elderly and diminutive aide. Nim gestured into the throne room, “He will see you now.”

Kirkik touched the top of Nim’s head as he walked past, “Thanks Nimmy.”

Nim shook his head at Kirkik in stern disapproval.  “Rotten brat,” he said, eliciting an impish grin from Kirkik.

Kirkik walked into the audience chamber and Nim closed the large wooden doors behind him. Kirkik glanced around and was not surprised to find himself alone with the King. He stopped twenty paces from the Dias upon which sat the King, and dropping to one knee, held his arm out in an exaggerated bow. “Your illustriousness!”

“Can’t you bow any lower for your King?” asked Dannap. “Are you not sufficiently awed by my magnificence?”

“I’m awed by the fact that you’ve managed to remain King for so long without being chased off the island for incompetence. You’re lucky they choose heirs based on order of arrival instead of intelligence, or you’d be bowing to me, your most splendid highness.”

Dannap rose from his throne, laughing, and walked over to Kirkik, “I can’t argue with that logic. I’ll give you this crown right now if you want it. It makes my head itch.”

Kirkik stood up and faced his brother. Both men were smiling as Kirkik followed Dannap out of the throne room and through a small door behind the throne. The King removed the itchy crown and dropped it carelessly on a chair, and then tossed his formal robes across the arm of the same chair.  He plopped down on an overstuffed red velvet couch and looked up at Kirkik.

“How was your trip? Did you thoroughly investigate the taverns and single women of Port Billen?”

Kirkik dropped into a chair across from Dannap’s sofa, beside a gigantic fireplace.  “Damn!” he said, “I knew I had forgotten something.”  The brothers laughed again.

“You got the census problem straightened out, I gather?” asked Dannap.

“Actually, I didn’t,” said Kirkik.  “I spoke with the local Abbot, the one who filled out the census, and he didn’t know anything.  When I talked to the boy’s father… he gave me the same story from the census report.  Said an Abbot had asked him to adopt the child.  But he seemed nervous.  Same with the local Constable who, by the way, is so old he probably pees yellow dust. There’s just something not right.  They’re hiding something.”

Dannap kicked his feet up onto the sofa and was staring up at a five hundred year old ceiling fresco depicting old King Komisa’s arrival on the island. “Why would these villagers be nervous about this?”

Kirkik picked a bit of lint from the arm of the chair and threw it into the cold fireplace.  “I have a suspicion, but I have no evidence.”

The King turned his head to look at his brother.

“I think the boy might be a Lataki,” said Kirkik.

“Why do you think that?” asked Dannap.

“A boy mysteriously appears in the village closest to the mainland.  There is no record of birth father or mother.  Everyone I ask about it is either completely ignorant or starts sweating when I bring it up. I think the boy is Lataki.  It would explain everything, and the simplest solution is usually the most accurate solution.”

Dannap sat up and faced Kirkik.  “And you believe the local Constable would hide this from us?”

Kirkik shrugged.  “As I said, the Constable is an old man. He’s been in that village for something like sixty years.  It wouldn’t surprise me if he turned a blind eye to something like this just so he wouldn’t have to deal with it.”

Dannap stood, walked to a window and looked across the expansive royal garden behind the palace. After a couple of minutes, he turned back to Kirkik.  “I need you to go back.”

Kirkik started to object and Dannap held up his hand.  Brothers or not, Dannap was his King.  He sat back in the chair and listened.

“I need you to go back and find out.  But there is no reason to rush. Mother’s seventy-second birthday is in three weeks and she will expect you to be here.  After that, return to Port Billen and relieve the Constable of his duties, with gratitude from his king and all that.”  Dannap made a dismissive gesture.

“You will serve as Constable for the time being.  Determine if the boy is, as you suspect, a Lataki.  If he is a Lataki, kill him and anyone who was involved in covering up his presence.  Once this is resolved, a permanent Constable will be assigned to Port Billen and you can return to Panna.”

Kirkik nodded his acceptance of the task.

“Unless,” said Dannap with a toothy grin, “you fall in love with a local fish maiden and resign from the Legion to become a fisherman.”

Dannap threw a tasseled red pillow at his King’s laughing face.

CHAPTER TEN

After the first couple of days with Soama, Tanan decided that he’d better do the cooking.  He would be staying with Soama for a month, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle a month of Soama’s food.  Thanks to the time he had spent helping out in the kitchen of the Rusty Hook, Tanan was pretty good at cooking a few things and was soon doing all the cooking.  There was no fish, but fortunately, Soama was happy to eat vegetable stew and green salad for every meal.

Tanan quickly settled into a routine. Each morning, Soama would wake him while it was still dark and the two would sit in the back garden and meditate as the sun came up. Soama told Tanan that being able to clear the mind of the normal clutter of thoughts would make it easier for him to perform magic.

Meditation was followed by breakfast, and then the two would spend the morning in Soama’s garden pulling weeds.  Tanan didn’t enjoy being on his hands and knees in the dirt for hours at a time.

After several days of weeding, Tanan finally asked, “Why do we spend so much time doing this?”

Soama pulled weeds in silence for a few moments before responding. “Tell me about a person that you don’t like.”

Tanan was irritated that Soama had ignored his question, but thought about Soama’s question while he carefully picked weeds out of a row of carrots.  “There’s a kid in Port Billen named Grapf.  Every time he sees me he punches me or trips me. I think that’s really the only person I don’t like.”

“Think of your life as a garden. And think of all the things that happen in your life; they are either flowers, or vegetables, or weeds.  Grapf is a weed, Tanan.”

The thought of Grapf as a weed made Tanan laugh.  He imagined pulling a tiny little Grapf out of the ground and throwing him into the basket next to him with the other weeds.

Soama continued.  “Grapf is a weed in the garden of your life.  We are pulling weeds from this garden because they take nutrients from the soil that our vegetables need to grow to their full potential. People, and even our own thoughts, can be weeds too. If we let the weeds in our lives take root, they use up the energy that we need to reach our full potential.”

“They steal our energy?” asked Tanan.

“They don’t exactly steal it, Tanan. But people often waste energy on the things that don’t really matter. The best thing to do with a weed is to get rid of it.”  He yanked a particularly large weed and held it up for Tanan to see.

“I don’t think I’m going to get rid of Grapf any time soon.”

“Perhaps the best way to deal with this Grapf boy is to turn him from an enemy into a friend. Some weeds produce very nice flowers.”

Tanan thought about this as they continued to pull weeds in silence. There were things in his life that he wasted energy on. A bully like Grapf was certainly a weed in his life.  But he had to admit that there were times in his life when he had been mean to other kids too. Not mean like Grapf was mean to him, but still mean. It was possible that using his energy to make fun of someone took away from better things he could do with his time.

“What are some other kinds of things that are weeds in my garden, Soama?”

“There are all kinds of things,” the Abbot replied.  “Just like in this garden that we work in every morning, no matter how many weeds we pull today there will always be new ones the next day. In our lives, most of the weeds involve things like regret, anger, and jealousy. The worst weed in our minds is the desire for revenge. That is the most harmful weed.  It poisons everything it touches.”

The analogy made sense to Tanan. “What do we do with all of those things, Soama?”

“The same thing we do with the weeds you’re pulling from the garden right now,” he replied.  “How much time do you spend thinking about the weeds we threw in the compost pile yesterday?”

“None,” said Tanan.

“Exactly,” said Soama. “We have to be diligent when it comes to keeping our garden free of weeds.  But we don’t worry about the weeds we pulled yesterday or the weeds we will have to pull tomorrow.”

Tanan sat back on his heels. “So, we spend so much time pulling weeds because it reminds us to keep the weeds out of the garden of our life.”

“No,” said Soama. “We spend so much time pulling weeds because the garden has a lot of weeds.”

Tanan sighed heavily and went back to pulling weeds