Chapter 7: A Waiting Afternoon
By that afternoon, old man Dogan had toured the trio through the trampled-grass streets of the togazi. Then a raucous lunch followed with all the people of the settlement. The morning's feud between Karrgos and R'vag stubbornly lingered throughout the day, their differences waiting impatiently to be settled with a brawl. Despite that, a few arguments, and the gloom of an impending food shortage, Jyevodirr and R'vag mixed well with the locals. Rraos didn't. The locals tried pulling him in, offering alcohol more than once, but they could get no more than half a cup down his throat. For the young Arroxath, his new social position was a bitter mouthful.
After that grand, communal meal, the long-deferred conversation between Rraos and Dogan finally popped to life. The young Arroxath had been looking forward to it for days, hopeful for a familiar voice in a storm of change. His present and future, after all, were conspirators shoving him into the blindness of the unfamiliar.
“Sounds like you’ve been through some rough times, kid,” a smirking Dogan was presently remarking. “If you ask me though, I’d say you had it coming. Thought you were being sneaky all those years, didn't you? Little rascal!”
Rraos grimaced. “Must we go there now, rruxe[1]? Of all the ways you could have responded, this is what you chose? Come now; you remember I cannot tarry long here, do you not?”
Dogan winked. “You think I’d forget that? Of course not! You see, the departure that looms on the horizon? That’s exactly what makes this the right moment and the right way, kid!”
Rraos deflated. "If you say so, rruxe. But.... you know I have been wrecked by lessons lately, no? Every one of them had been unasked for, thrown at me with vicious disregard. After all that, is it too much to ask for comfort in speaking with you? I had hoped you would keep your ears open and tongue tied. Can I not have even that, rruxe? For a meagre day?”
Dogan’s smile slowly lost its sharp edge, and he responded with a nod. “You’re still a kid, aren't you? I suppose complaining to someone who’s always listened is natural. I need to remember that you can't be a grown-up all of a sudden. Not even if you’re off to be the Jin’xasyi Mag’rrus. In fact, I bet that and the changes both have you frightened to your bones.”
“And repulsed,” Rraos assented with a frown laced with bitterness. “I feel forsaken, rruxe. The only two who did support me are no better than shackles. I would have been happy had they only wanted money. But no! They want me to be someone I never wanted to be! Tell me, rruxe, what do I do with them?”
He sighed long and deep. The bitter frown held for a few more moments before being smoothed away. “Forget that. Please tell me what you think of them instead.”
“Them?” Dogan echoed, a thoughtful squint settling deeper and deeper upon his brows. “Alright. You may dislike hearing this, but I’ll still say it straight. From what I could see, they might just be the perfect companions for you. They’ll protect you, but also push you. You already know they’re both strong.
The leaner one seems sharp. Blessed by mayyux too, if I’m not wrong. And the bulky brat? Fiery. Someone who'd be right at home here.
But if you ask me to compare their ambition to their prowess, I’ll disappoint you by saying I don't know. To understand where they stand, I’ll have to fight them first. And there's the problem. You see, doing that doesn’t help either! I don't myself know how much it takes to be a Kraturr, no? After all, I’m someone who failed to be a Zax’syilava Ziggoyeth even.”
Rraos snorted. “Only because your formal education was a mess, old man. You know you are not giving yourself enough credit.”
Dogan smiled. As he opened his mouth to reply, laughter erupted beyond the fabric walls of the tuvudhan. Once it died down, R’vag strode in through the flap that served as the front door, and Jyevodirr followed close behind.
“That was annoying,” R’vag complained. “We almost couldn't find our way back here. But aren’t you the village leader, old man? Why live in this mundane hut?”
“Tuvudhan[2],” corrected Dogan, “not hut. Huts are what you likely lived in, boy. This isn’t a soil or stone box.”
R’vag chuckled. “Just a fancy name for a cloth hut. And you’ve avoided my question.”
“Sorry for this idiot’s assumptions,” Jyevodirr quietly said, drifting towards a shelf lined with a wide variety of books. “It’s about your beliefs, right? I know enough to recognise this isn't a village either. It’s a…… togazi, right?”
R’vag wrinkled his nose in distaste as he slouched into a chair beside Dogan and Rraos. “Yeah? Now give us a lecture on the differences too! Come on, theyi. You think there's a teacher here to impress?”
Jyevodirr’s grin was crooked. “Since you asked so sweetly — why not? Maybe it’s you who’ll be impressed. Now listen, what makes a togazi different from a village is its moving residents. People come and go without really owning any tuvudhanza[3]. Instead, they —”
“Oh shut up already!” R’vag yelled. “Damned bleater!”
Louder and more sudden than R’vag’s outburst rose Dogan’s laughter, drawing startled glances from both youths. Once his mirth settled down, Dogan looked straight into Jyevodirr’s crimson eyes.
“We’ve got a studious brat on our hands, eh?” he said.
Jyevodirr stared, then shrugged. From the corner of his eyes, he caught Rraos’s face being lined with creases and jaws tightly locked in frustration.
“Did we interrupt something, Rraos?" he asked politely.
“Oh no, not much.” Dogan replied instead. “We’d been catching up on recent events. You know them well. And I was about to tell him what I’d seen myself these days. Care to listen?”
R’vag grimaced, unsure if the conversation might devolve into convoluted ideas and theories. He wasn't up for anything more complex than a story.
Jyevodirr had the other idea. He was looking forward to whatever complexity could arise here. He always loved learning. To that end, he walked away from the glamorous bookshelf, sat down on Dogan’s bed, and nodded to show his interest.
“As I was saying,” Dogan began, turning back to a grateful eyed Rraos, “things in the city sound worse than you can imagine. In all my life, I've never heard anyone losing trust in an Arroxath this terribly.
Now kid, keep in mind that I'm not blaming you. Still, the fact remains that some of your actions did give this nasty opportunity to someone. Faults and reasons for all of that are unimportant. What remains relevant is that someone was actively stoking the flame you provided. Over and over again.
Not something anyone’d usually do so relentlessly. Not without sitting down on the negotiation table.”
Rraos leaned forward with incredulity. “Wait. What are you even implying? I cannot follow your reasoning whatsoever. Can you not speak plainly? Are you somehow suggesting that my mother is not the target?”
For a moment, Dogan was unmoving, unspeaking. Then he huffed. “Not the way you think, no.”
Feeling a long conversation brewing, he walked to a cabinet filled with alcohol and selected a bottle amongst many. After eyeing the bottle clinically for a few seconds, he snapped his fingers twice and blew on it with a light whistle. The bottle frosted.
Satisfied with himself, he promptly walked back to his chair.
“The way you’re imagining it is…. very personal, you see. I don't blame you, since that's what you see all the time. But to understand these events, you need to first acknowledge a simple truth — structures are important, the individual is not.”
Dogan broke off again, this time to take a deep swig. Jyevodirr took this chance to speak, leaning past the already unfocused R’vag.
“What do you mean the structure is more important than the individual? What about those who left their mark in the world?”
“They’re important only for leaving behind their mark on structures, kid.” Dogan answered, handing the bottle of alcohol off to Rraos. “Besides, we’re talking about us mortals here. Not giants that became a part of the structure. You should get used to this truth, boy.”
R’vag, who had been drifting in and out of focus all this while, finally found this matter interesting enough to dispute. “Wait, how can you say this! You’re a fellow man from Arrkad’vla, aren’t you? Every man, woman and child here knows that we respect heroes for their strength! How can systems be bigger than heroes?”
“Because heroes have become our system, kid. Look around you. Aren’t they the bones upon which all of our society builds itself? So are they individuals or a system?”
R’vag opened his mouth to argue, then fell silent. He could not find anything to say despite the whole idea feeling horribly repulsive.
Tired of the straying conversation, Rraos took a deep gulp from the refreshingly cold drink and leaned towards Dogan. “Fascinating as this sounds, I find the problem at Orron far more relevant. Could you please elaborate on what you meant, rruxe? Something about being personal or not?”
R’vag’s lips imitated a razor line, but he did not interrupt. Amusement flickered across Dogan’s face.
“That's what we’ll discuss now, eh?” He relieved Rraos of the cool bottle and lifted it with admiration. “That’s what we’ll do, I suppose.”
A gulp. “Look kid, the way you’re approaching the fiasco is quite personal. You think someone wants to see your mother ruined. Correct?”
Rraos nodded hesitantly.
“I say that's not the right way to look at it. Why would anyone want to see your mother ruined, you think?” Another gulp.
Rraos frowned. “What even is this question? What do you mean, ‘why would anyone want to see your mother ruined’? Can there not be a plethora of reasons?”
“Humour me, kid.”
“Perhaps they want her position? Or her power? You know how these things are, rruxe.”
Jyevodirr was the one whose voice rose in response this time. “That…. sounds strange. Why would anyone do it so viciously for that? The entire Arroxath estate was beginning to look bad.”
“Strange? Everything sounds strange to me,” mumbled R’vag.
Dogan’s fingers snapped like a mouse-trap snapping shut. “Exactly! Like your young friend has said, that was too heavy handed for anyone with manipulative motives!”
“But….” Rraos’ voice shifted to quieter and quieter notes. “How is this not manipulative?”
Dogan downed the cool alcohol with a wild, grim zest. The bottle slammed bottom down on the garbage bin. “Who said it isn't? But kid…. manipulative motives and manipulative practices are different things. The motives your mystery antagonist has seems purely destructive.”
All three young men reacted simultaneously, as if the moment had been rehearsed. Rraos appeared alarmed, Jyevodirr concerned, and R’vag, still unenlightened by the sudden conclusion, looked utterly bewildered.
“Someone wants the Arroxaths broken,” Dogan continued, his jowl drooping with distaste. “Nothing else makes sense. If they wanted her removed, forcing the selection of an heir would be the way to go. If they wanted power over the house, there would’ve been people and negotiations. I told you this already. But no one — no one at all in their right mind — would do anything like this with such impunity.”
The large room of four eventually lay submerged in agitated meditation. It ruminated on that stifling atmosphere a while, undisturbed by any within. Finally, Rraos decided to defy its briefly stagnant mood.
He exhaled long, set his jaws, then with a resolute glint declared, “They shall not succeed. Never. No one in Arrkad'vla is as foolish as to let our finely laid arrangements be torn down.”
R’vag looked at Rraos and felt stirrings of faint amazement. Those words had sounded better than a swindler’s. But Dogan’s wrinkles of worry only grew deeper. He whipped out a pipe, filled it with tobacco, then lit it up.
“That's not what I’m worried about. What’s concerning to me is that there exists someone, or some-many, who wants to tear everything down. And that lunatic’s got enough power to attempt it.”
Another quiet moment. Dogan looked around at the concerned faces. He felt bad going against Rraos’s wishes, but what had been begun now could not be undone. Nor stopped. Definitely not stopped. That would be the worst of all choices.
He tore his gaze away from the youngsters’, dragged a deep puff of resolve. “I’ve been noticing strange things out here too. Heard kids talking about something like Destroyers. It’s that which got me thinking in this line. Silly as it sounds, this would make some sense of happenings at Orron, you know?”
Another puff of smoke. “Destroyers and Preservers. Hmph! As if the politicking wasn’t bad enough. At least it left structures intact enough. This sounds like the crazed nonsense of idiots who’ve got their heads filled with grand nonsense. What can be grander than the lives lived with strength?”
Rraos, who had been shutting his eyes in deep concentration so far, slowly opened his eyes and fixed them upon Dogan. “You’re meaning to say you’ve found traces of people who could be the culprits out here in the zaxa as well? When?”
“From a long while ago. I’ve talked with Qaiz’rra Rrianxi about this. Seeing that she hadn’t let me hear a word concerning you then, I assume they’d been active for longer than they’ve caused your problem.”
“All of this is very good,” a scowling Jyevodirr suddenly cut in, “but what do you think should be done? How should we tackle these problems?”
Everyone looked at Jyevodirr in surprise.
Dogan’s countenance grew grim. “All we can do is be informed. And you brats can be careful. Idiots like hardly understand how structures work. You’re all in risk of being used to break long-standing arrangements.”
For a moment, Jyevodirr hesitated. Dogan’s accusation held more weight than he liked. But he knew as much as anyone else in the room – there was nothing to be done about that. That is just how life worked. The world had to be fair by being unfair to everyone. And that was why strength was so invaluable. One had to face such unfairness and survive.
Still quiet, Jyevodirr walked up to the bookshelf that had intrigued him earlier. Then – “You’re right, old man. But even you can’t teach us everything in a few days, can you? We’ll all have to do the best we can. And where structures are concerned, Rraos knows a few things, I’m certain. Isn’t that a start?”
Dogan stared. Then smiled. “It’s a start indeed. But what do you two idiots know?”
R’vag grinned. “Call me whatever. But I bet me and Jyevodirr know about the Understanding better than anyone our age.”
Dogan laughed this time, finishing up the last puffs from the now ash filled pipe. “Better than any your age? That’s a tall claim, brat! Shall we put that claim to the test?”
“Better than any our age,” Jyevodirr spoke up before R’vag could make another boast. “But you’d know even better, right? You’re older. And it’s great to listen to stories from old people your age.”
Dogan looked with interest at Jyevodirr even as the latter scanned Dogan’s bookshelf with greater zeal. The old man looked away and emptied the ash filled pipe into the ground.
“Stop being the witty one, boy.”
Jyevodirr grinned back shamelessly. Dogan chuckled.
“Come back and sit,” the old man commanded. “You don’t look like the rich kind, so I doubt you’d understand much of what’s in there anyways.”
Jyevodirr looked back sheepishly. Dogan was right. Half of the books’ names made no sense. He had never felt as alienated from books before.
Suddenly, Rraos stirred himself back to activity again. Triumph shone across his lips, cheeks and eyes through a confident grin. “I may not like my present position,” he said, “but it certainly has given me a good idea. Rruxe, perhaps we boys shall be able to manage ourselves well enough. You need not worry. I have a great idea that fits a band of idiots like us. We can discuss the details later. At the end of your storytelling should be a good time, no?”
Dogan regarded Rraos with pride, and with a hint of sorrow. When he had been younger, Dogan had not looked as favourably upon the child as he did now. Despite being Rrianxi and Dirrung’s child, the boy was weak. Timid. But he had steadily and surely wormed his way into Dogan’s heart over the years with his kindness and his quirks. He had shown Dogan that a different meaning of strength could exist.
Watching that same kid now trying to be a grown-up man, taking his first steps out into the world despite his disadvantages, made Dogan feel a blend of pathos and pride he could not describe. He could not help but swallow hard, forcing a lump of emotions down his throat.
“That would be the best,” he said with a tender smile.
Dogan’s voice made Rraos feel inexplicably sorrowful. He broke off the eye contact and fumbled out a cigarette.
Dogan looked away too. “Well then,” he started, his voice a little shakier than he would have cared to admit, “You want to hear about the Understanding from this old man, do you?”
“Ah, no,” Jyevodirr gently backpedalled, “maybe we’ll do it later. Tonight, for sure.” R’vag nodded.
“Nonsense!” the old man boomed. The loudness lingered longer than confidence did. “What’s a better time than now?”
With a sidelong gaze, he watched Rraos draw in a deep breath of smoke. The boy seemed steadier now.
Jyevodirr stood up, stretched, then turned to leave. R’vag followed a pause later. Smiling cheekily, Jyevodirr turned his face towards Dogan and said, “That’s alright. I don’t want to hear a rushed story. Can’t it wait for tonight? It can, right? I’ve also been in the mood to make some friends here, you know? Or would you rather not let that happen?”
Dogan grinned wide, too many of his teeth showing, then for no reason at all donned on his dark goggles.
“When you come back, brat,” he promised, his voice much livelier than before, “I’ll have you learn from the books I have. And show you things you’ll be amazed by!”
“I’ll hold you to that promise, old man,” Jyevodirr answered flippantly as he headed for the entrance. R’vag followed him with a smile.
“Don’t regret it!” Dogan’s voice followed them out. R’vag laughed.
Outside the tuvudhan’s fabric walls, the world was sparsely covered with mostly thin, knobbly trees close by and palms in the distance. A confused smell hung around the togazi, the aroma from dying grass clashing against the full river’s savour close by. The day, though hot evidently, was quite pleasant within the reaches of the riparian woods where the togazi stood.
“What was that, you think?” R’vag whispered.
“I don’t know,” Jyevodirr whispered back. “I can’t imagine why they were being emotional. Maybe the old man was relieved? You know, that had nothing happened to Rraos? Clearly, they’re quite close.”
R’vag hummed thoughtfully. Sunlight hit his upturned eyes; he clicked his tongue and turned his face towards the ground.
“What now?” he asked.
“Let’s just do what we claimed,” was the reply.
They walked away from Dogan’s tuvudhan with care. Scattered people were lazing around the togazi, waiting for something, anything, to change. One of them spied the two outsiders stepping out and, with a sluggish loudness, called out to them. His effort did not go unnoticed.
“Hello.” Jyevodirr nodded subtly once within a comfortable reach of the man. “What’re you up to?”
“What can I be doing, friend? Just relaxing,” the man nearing thirty replied from his hammock. His speech was dragged, and his eyes drooped so heavily, their pupils could barely be seen.
R’vag snorted. “Bored?”
The man’s grin stretched as far as a miser’s spending did. That was all he had for an answer.
“Is this place always like this during afternoons?” Jyevodirr asked.
“What d’you think?” the man replied. Jyevodirr met the man’s attitude with a growing sullenness.
“Sheeh! Straight as an arrow, aren’t you?”
The man lazily turned around to free a pocket. From there, he produced a packet of cigarettes and a plain lighter. “You smoke?”
Again, Jyevodirr stood as silent as before. R’vag threw the man a crooked grin in reply. In the face of the silence, the older man lit his cigarette, took an overlong puff, then lay back down comfortably.
“Shame,” he quietly remarked. His cigarette and lungs belched out unusually dense, sharp smelling smoke.
Jyevodirr’s neutral demeanour collapsed at last, and he squinted at the man accusatorily. “Haven’t you got anywhere for us to sit?”
At that point, another man arrived in their vicinity. Having overheard the complaint, he laughed and smacked the lazing man on his head.
“As senseless as ever, Laxorrth[4]. Why call over guests when you don’t intend to get up? Want me to cut your hammock again?”
The lazing man, Laxorrth, shot his assaulter a violent look. Jyevodirr stared. At that moment, Laxorrth had disturbed the mayyux very subtly, very unusually.
The newcomer was oblivious to the discreet happenings. With his long, braided hair swinging in the unsteady breeze, he turned to face the two youths. “Let’s move elsewhere. Don’t mind the idiot here. Perhaps you were unfortunate, so this fool happened to arrive just yesterday, and you’ll likely be gone before he is.”
“What?” Jyevodirr asked in bewilderment. But the newcomer was already walking back the way he came. R’vag swaggered ahead beside him, leaving Jyevodirr behind with enough time to glance back at Laxorrth.
“See you tonight,” Laxorrth called out in that same drawn out, lethargic drone.
Jyevodirr exhaled and moved on wordlessly. He couldn’t pinpoint why, but this lazy, unassuming man clawed at his nerves. Was he being judgemental? He couldn’t know, so he had to be wary of his own mind. Being antagonistic only led to senseless ends.
The unnamed man led them close to a tuvudhan, one measurably larger than Dogan’s, and no further than the sight of Laxorrth’s hammock. There under a larger, knurlier tree, two men and five women sat scattered indulgently. On their tongue was laughter, on their palms dice. Under them was a rough carpet, at the centre of which wooden chips lay arranged with far greater precision than the togazi itself.
“You’re back!” laughed one of the youngest looking women. Her gaze settled on the two outsiders, and her smile curled deeper into an appreciative smirk. “Looks like you’ve brought back our bold guests too.”
“Don’t be uncouth, Axina[5],” the unnamed man chided, though the disapproval never reached his eyes. He turned back to the two young men he had towed and gestured to the group behind him. “Welcome to our haven of entertainment! It’s where we while our hours away. Ah – only when we don’t have work, mind you!”
Behind the man someone chuckled. Axina leaned away from the tall man’s dramatically planted feet, making sure she was visible to the guests.
“Did this old palm-tree introduce himself?” she asked Jyevodirr and R’vag with a coy half-smile playing on her lips. R’vag couldn’t help losing his mind in their full folds.
“Not at all,” replied Jyevodirr, his response guarded in its politeness.
Axina’s focus fluttered to Jyevodirr with interest, but it couldn’t enjoy a long stay. The unnamed man had burst into a fit of laughter.
“Oh my!” he squeezed out between his laughter. “I’d completely forgotten!”
He continued laughing right up until breathlessness forced him to stop. Then, with a sudden, near formal grace, he slapped his right fist onto his chest. “I’m Ug’dhos[6], the man closest to taking over old man Dogan.”
R’vag’s eyes finally left Axina and wandered to Ug’dhos.
Jyevodirr’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Wait, does that mean the old man officially holds an important position?”
Ug’dhos’s smile was a proud, fragile one. “He’s more amazing than you realize, boy. But he’s officially lower than he deserves to be. He’d been called so many times to remain at the estate, but he never accepted. I only want to follow in his great footsteps.”
“And you are,” another young man, by appearance barely older than Rraos, heartily chimed in. “Now, will you sit or keep singing how great the old man is?”
All the seven seated people laughed merrily. “He’s already the second after the old man. How long’ll he keep holding the old man above his head?”
More laughter followed.
“Alright, you rascals. Shut up now. Let’s have a good time!” Ug’dhos roared above the laugher.
Still laughing and smiling merrily, the seven on the mat made space for Ug’dhos and the two youths. The tall Ug’dhos sprawled out comfortably, eliciting a few complaints. Axina scooted over, making space between herself and a quiet young woman. With a wink and a wave, she invited the guests over. R’vag moved instantly.
“Don’t trip,” Jyevodirr yelled after R’vag. Despite that quick quip, he found himself drawn hypnotically towards the indulgent air. Was it because of how tightly he had bound himself for years?
With a faint upturn on the corner of his lips, Jyevodirr moved to the space he had been left. To his right, of course, was R’vag, and to his left that same quiet girl who kept stealing glances. He smiled at her. She returned it, then flushed. Jyevodirr caught his smile refusing to leave.
“Are afternoons here always like this?” he heard himself asking.
The young woman tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then straightened up performatively. “Not always. We have lots to do.”
Jyevodirr nodded along.
“What’s being played here?” Ug’dhos boomed.
“Ten-chip-war,” a woman replied with a grin like a dagger.
“What’s that?” asked Jyevodirr.
“Learn as you play!” a man chortled from where he lay.
Jyevodirr looked at the girl beside him, who caught his gaze, smiled softly, then looked away. He turned to R’vag after. His bulky friend and Axina did not notice, completely lost somewhere together.
Someone handed Jyevodirr a dice and ten wooden chips with crude symbols etched on them. He looked at them, then scooted closer to the girl. She looked up from her pieces in surprise; she didn’t complain.
Suddenly conflicted, he looked out towards Laxorrth’s hammock. The man still lay on his hammock breathing thick smoke. Jyevodirr looked back at the gathering he sat with. An errant question raced through his mind – how different was this?
No matter how he worried, that alone wouldn’t help anything. So he closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. The confused scents of the togazi filled his brain, along with a subtle fragrance of perfume wafting from his left. The sun beat around him, and a dry breeze erratically moved south. Languidness seeped in every spoken word, every motion. Even Ug’dhos’s loudness had no edge.
The perfume’s smell grew stronger. The girl at his side gently nudged him, her toes settling upon his shin.
“Your turn,” she said.
Jyevodirr looked down. He could worry about differences of indulgence later. Not every moment had to be bound to honour and responsibility, he concluded. At least not when life awarded him moments of leisure.
He rolled his dice.
“Come, see me in the fight tonight.”
[1]Pronounced as ‘ruxe’. Used to address older men respectfully. Personal in nature.
[2]Pronounced as ‘tuvuðan’.
[3]Plural form of Tuvudhan.
[4]Pronounced as ‘laxorθ’
[5]Pronounced as ‘axina’.
[6]Pronounced as ‘ugɘðɵs’.