The Way Of The Caster

Chapter 14: To belong

"...angry at us...we don't have much...remaining," the short man was saying. He pounded one fist emphatically against the other, voice increasing in volume. "We ought to get them back...I know we...yes, only pitchforks, but...don't you see...be death or—?"

Murmurs cut him off. "That's enough, Wychun," Wilok was saying firmly. "You know...never happen. This is not talk for day. We'll...when they're asleep."

Wychun bowed his head reluctantly. "Very well. I'll..." his voice trailed off as he caught sight of Twisten, who had in his interest had unconsciously edged into view. "Who's this?" he asked curiously. "Your new adoptee, Wilok?"

"That's right," Wilok said. He walked up to the boy, placing a hand on his shoulder. "He hasn't told us their names yet, but that's alright. I just call them boy one and boy two and they don't seem to mind. Why aren't you playing with the other boys though?"

Twisten frowned, disliking the sudden increase of attention he was receiving. "I don't want to run around with silly kites," he said under his breath.

"Silly kites?" Wilok mused. He looked thoughtfully at two toddlers playing with pieces of wood on a house's threshold. "You'd fit right in with Wychun's skipNephews then. They're not running at all, of course. Right, Wychun?"

"What's that? Oh, yes I suppose," Wychun said detachedly. He did not laugh. "Come to think of it, shouldn't we be preparing the meal now?"

The other men agreed, and soon the group broke apart, going to their separate duties. Wilok gave Twisten a push and encouraging smile towards the boys before departing as well. He stepped closer. Squatting next to them, he realized the pieces of wood were carved like a puzzle, fitting together seamlessly. The boys paid no attention to the new arrival, stolidly shifting the pieces around like terrifying experts.

He watched, fascinated, until the last piece was set in place. Then the older boy finally noticed him, smiling wide. "Hullo," he said. "The puzzle's just done."

Twisten nodded, not knowing what to say. "How old are you?" he finally asked.

"I'm four," the older boy replied cheerfully. He nudged the frailer boy, who was admiring the finished puzzle. "That's Andrew, me younger brother. I'm Adamen, yeh know. Adam for shorts. Who are...are yeh a stranger?"

Twisten opened his mouth to speak, but had the sudden urge to lie. He wanted to belong, not immediately be alienated by the boy simply because he had come from far away. "No, I'm Twisten," he said quickly. "I live here with Wana an' Wilok."

"Oh," Adam said, crestfallen. "With Wilok an' Wana. You didn't come from far away, like where the monsters dwell in the Empire?"

Where the monsters dwell? Did the monsters not live here, outside the Path of the Sky Cities? Twisten shook his head slowly.

"Adamen! Andrew!" a woman's voice made its way across the town.

Adam jumped and began hurriedly to gather up the puzzle pieces.

"That's our aunt," Andrew whispered. "We'd better go." His large eyes and concerned gaze reminded Twisten of his brother, only much skinnier.

Twisten followed the brothers to the centre of the town, where log tables had been set up and covered with foreign and fragrant dishes. Adam and Andrew ran up to a tall woman, who was conversing with Wana.

The tall woman looked up, smiling. "Ah, they're here." She saw Twisten, and turning to Wana, asked, "This is your son?"

"Yes," Twisten said before she could reply. Somehow Wana did not appear shocked or surprised, but rather pleased. Mikal ran up, panting like a dog in summer. He was upset about something.

"Mikalen, where's the kite the Mroci boy gave you?"

Mikal gave a warped smile, wavering between crying and laughing. "His sister stole it," he exclaimed, pointing determinedly at a slender girl on the other side of the tables. The girl was running with Mikal's blue and orange kite, her blonde hair almost pale as white flowing behind her.

Twisten jumped as the women laughed.

"That's the eldest Mroci girl...was it Abigae, Sina?" Wana turned to the tall woman.

"No, Abiga," Sina replied.

"I want Wana to tell her to give me back th' kite," Mikal said loudly. It was the longest sentence he had said since leaving Stainborh.

Smiling, Sina knelt down beside Mikal. "Why do you want your ma's help?"

"My ma?" Mikal looked questioningly to Twisten.

"That's Wana," his brother explained carefully. Again, Wana did not object.

Mikal crossed his arms, glaring at Sina. "Th' girl's big an' mean an' strong."

"I can't help you, Mikal, although she's strong even for a mountainfolk child," Wana interjected. "This week, with people coming in from all the villages be they forest or mountainfolk...you've got to learn how to fend for yourself."

Twisten averted his eyes to avoid Mikal's begging eyes. "Wana-ma's right, Mika-boy. We can't always help you."

"That's not fair!" Mikal burst out. He stamped his foot angrily. "Marma would have—"

"But Marma isn't here," Twisten interrupted, voice seethingly low. He held Mikal's watery gaze. "Can't yeh get that? There's no marma here, no Marie, no...darmo – just me, yeh, an' now ma an' pa."

Mikal mouthed the last three words, experimenting with the sounds. Then he decided against it, mouth curling into a pout. "I don't want new parents," he complained, tears slid fast down his cheek. "I don't want new parents!"

Twisten clamped his hands against his ears, exasperated. The complaints turned into a continuous wail as Twisten turned and walked away, faster and faster, turning into a jog. He stopped as their house came into view. Distantly, he could hear Mikal's cries dwindle as Wana, no...ma knelt down and comfort him.