Melody of the Fates

Chapter 1.2

After dinner, Sharee found herself washing dishes while Werim trudged in and out of the house with buckets of water. Her mother was in the living room, seated in front of the fire, keeping one eye on the two of them and the other eye on a bit of wood she was carving. For as long as Sharee could remember, her mother and father had sold small, wooden trinkets out of their home. The town had a proper carpenter, but the villagers appeared to enjoy the intricate figurines. It didn’t generate a lot of coin, but Sharee could never remember wanting for much of anything.

Her mother hummed an exotic tune as she worked, the notes building up swiftly only to float down like falling leaves. The enchanting hymn wafted into the kitchen. It was soothing, yet lively, and for some reason reminded Sharee of the woods that she often played in with her brother and his friends. There weren’t any other girls of Sharee’s age in the village, so she’d always stuck with the boys on their adventures. Besides, she felt at home among the trees. The solid trunks, the soft moss, the shady canopies. They reminded her of home for some reason that she could never quite explain.

Soon enough, Sharee had finished the dishes and put them away in the wooden cupboards that ran the length of the kitchen. Joining her mother in the living room, she sat down and enjoyed the fire crackling in the hearth, punctuating her mother’s notes. Strangely, the piece of wood in her hands almost seemed to glow and twist under her deft ministrations, and no shavings dropped to her lap. Sharee hardly paid attention as she stared into the flames and imagined the long, orange tongues were giant trees swaying to her mother’s tune. She thought she could almost hear wood pipes in accompaniment with surprisingly intricate little trills on top of the melody. Small sprightly sparks danced around, rising up to disappear in the smoke as it traveled up and was sucked out by the river stone chimney.

Werim crashed in through the door and destroyed the mood, a wooden staff with two dripping pails hanging across his neck. He grunted as the containers swayed dangerously close to spilling and caught his balance. Hefting the staff, he trudged over to set it all down near the fire. Lifting the wooden handle of the steaming cauldron off its hook, he carefully lugged the heavy pot toward the stairs. Loud thuds reverberated off of each step as his made his way up.

Sharee’s mother looked up from her carving to watch her son. Turning toward her daughter she said, “If he’d do it a pail at a time like I told him, it wouldn’t be such a struggle.”

Sharee rolled her eyes, “He never wants to do things your way, Mom.”

Her mother chuckled, “Just like his father.”

“I heard that,” Werim yelled from upstairs.

The accusation was met with silence.

“When’s Dad coming back?” Sharee asked hesitantly.

A concerned look crossed her mother’s face for just a moment before she had a chance to suppress it. “When he’s done what he set out t’do, he’ll be back.”

Sharee scrunched her face in confusion, “What is he doing, though?”

“Yeah, just what is he doing?” Werim added, appearing at the bottom of the stairs.

There was an uncomfortable silence as the children fixed their mother with penetrating stares of their own. Their father had been gone for almost a year now, and they each remembered the strange circumstances under which he had left.

One morning, he had simply announced that he was going to visit the soldiers camped near the capital city of Tashaba. He was quite vague on his reasoning and mentioned only that he had business with the general there. Their father had never been away on business before, and it was unlikely he was off to sell wood carvings to the Army. Still, their mother hadn't questioned it, so they hadn't either. The oddity deepened when it became apparent that the errand was not going to be a quick journey. Weeks turned to months, and with each passing day worry appeared to gnaw more hungrily at their mother.

“Your father may not look it,” their mother replied finally, looking up, “but there are a great many things he knows about which the two o’ you haven’t the thinnest branch o’ an idea. Even great generals need counsel on occasion.”

“Will he be back in time for my nameday?” Sharee asked. She was only a month away from her sixteenth year, and she was anxious to catch up to her brother, if only for a few short months.

A shaken head was the reply, “I don’t think so, honey. The capital is quite a journey, and he had a big job to do.”

“Oh,” Sharee responded. What else was she to say? Of course it was a disappointment, but there was no need to make her mother feel worse than she already did.

Werim went over and laid a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “It’s only another day,” he said. After all, his sixteenth nameday celebration had been the first one their father had missed, a scant two days after he’d left. “We can have an extra celebration when he gets home.”

“I know, but it’s my sixteenth,” Sharee whined. “He won’t get to see me open my gift.”

“Oh, he already knows what you’ll be getting, dear,” their mother’s eyes twinkled. “You should be able to show it to him soon enough, and be better for the time.”

Sharee took the bait. “What is it, Mom?” she asked.

“Ah,” their mother held up a finger, “you’ll know on your day and not one minute before. Now go wash up and get ready for bed.”

“I hope it’s as neat as Werim’s was,” Sharee admitted, rising.

Werim laughed, “Fat chance. Besides, you can’t even lift mine.”

Sharee didn’t reply, but shoved Werim roughly as she sprinted upstairs.

It took Werim a moment before lurching to follow her. “Oh, no you don’t!” he yelled. “I just lugged all that water up there. I am not getting the cold turn again.” Loud thumps sounded as Werim took the stairs two at a time.

The sound of a struggle echoed back down the stairs, brother and sister obviously fighting over the bathroom. “Mom,” Sharee yelled.

“Werim, let your sister go first.”

There was a muffled retort and a slamming door as Werim went to their shared room to wait. Their mother returned her attentions to her work. Her humming once more filled the house and, as Sharee relaxed in the warm water, she swore she could almost see faces taking shape on the wooden walls.