The story is set in a town in Genda (Canada), somewhere in eastern Ontario near Quebec. The time frame is approx. 25th century. Weather patterns have settled after the long drought and it is a period of ‘peace and prosperity’ including trade with Rosh (Russia) across the northern ocean protected by the Genda navy and the southern neighbours Meriga and Meyco.
Read The Prisoner of Genda - Part 1 The Prisoner, here.
Read The Prisoner of Genda - Part 2 The Widow, here.
Read The Prisoner of Genda - Part 3 The Gardener, here.
Read The Prisoner of Genda - Part 4 The Builder, here.
Read The Prisoner of Genda - Part 5 The Messenger, here.
Read The Prisoner of Genda - Part 6 The Jailer, here.
Read The Prisoner of Genda - Part 7 The Adventurer, here.
Shoots (Photo: via Dailybell )
Part 8
The Hero
The swelling
moon emerged from above the rooftops as Marin skulked down the lane to the
cottage. Rouss flinched at the knock. She opened the door a crack. “Marin.
You’re early. Quickly.” She opened the door wider and he stepped inside.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t wait.” He looked at her black blouse, skirt, and
coat topped by a long black cape. “You still wear the mourning clothes?”
She gave him a thin smile. “Tonight will be the last time.” She turned
to face the mirror on the wall beside the door and pulled the hood over her
head. “Stay here until I get back.” She nodded toward a neat stack on the bed.
“Get changed into some of Leymo’s clothes. I think those will fit you.”
He nodded and stepped toward her. “Rouss.”
She raised to gloved hand to stop him. “Please Marin, wait until I get
back.”
An hour later Marin paced the path behind Rouss’s cottage. He watched
his breath form hoary clouds in the air in front of him.
Inside Rouss buttoned up a green blouse which matched her eyes. The shimmering
chinselk traced her curves from her shoulders to the belted waist of her
flowing skirt. She fastened a silver chain around her neck and placed the cross
carefully in a drawer. She hummed to herself to try and stop her mind from racing.
She brushed her hair in the mirror and chose a colourful clasp to hold it in
place. She bent down and opened a cupboard, searched in the back for an old
bottle, covered with foreign writing. She drew it out and blew off some dust,
frowned at the worm lying at the bottom, and removed the cork. She filled two small
glasses and placed them on the table, then went to the back door. “Marin,” she
whispered. “you can come in now.”
Marin stepped back inside and draped his coat over a chair. His eyes widened
as they took in her transformation. “You look more beautiful than ever.”
She dropped her eyes and waved at the chair. “Please sit.” Marin did as
she bid and her red lips parted to speak before a loud knock interrupted her.
She put her finger to her lips. “Who is it?” she called.
“Rouss darra Sage, it’s me, Bartim. I’ve come to talk with you again. I
feel we parted unhappily last time we spoke and I would like to set things
straight.”
She looked at Marin. “It’s late Mister Bartim. Perhaps tomorrow would
be more appropriate?”
“I fear I have already left this too long. I have been thinking about
the things you said.”
“I am pleased to hear that Mister Bartim, but I don’t feel this is the
right time or place to continue that conversation.” She looked at Marin and her
face contorted in desperation.
Marin slid one hand inside his coat and pulled out a knife. Rouss
glared at him and shook her head. The door latch scraped as Bartim tried the
handle. Rouss spun and lunged for the bolt but too late. The door opened and Bartim
stepped in. He stopped in mid stride. “Who is this?”
“An old friend. Marin sunna Elevar, this is Eldmin and Mister Bartim.”
The men exchanged the barest of nods.
Bartim looked her up and down. “He is obviously someone worth dressing
up for.”
Rouss blushed. “He has brought me news of Leymo sunna Seena.” She took
a breath. “Marin has confirmed that he died at sea in a terrible storm.”
Bartim nodded slowly and gestured to her clothes. “So, you are now
ready to live again?”
“Yes.” She flashed a glance at Marin.
“And you will accept my proposal?” He moved toward her.
“Not so fast.” Marin stepped between them, the knife still clutched in
one hand behind his back. “I have known Rouss for many years and loved her all
that time. She is coming with me to the north.”
Rouss raised her hands. “Sit down, both of you, and hear me out.”
Marin and Bartim reluctantly lowered themselves into chairs on opposite
sides of the table. Bartim picked up the glass, sniffed its contents, and
downed it in one gulp.
Rouss paced the room and wrung a handkerchief in her hands. “I have
done a lot of thinking these past few days. About our discussion Mister Bartim,
the news of Leymo, Marin’s return and escape…”
Bartim stared at Marin, his eyes ice cold. “You are the prisoner?”
Marin nodded, returning his glare. “It is not important. I will replace
the glass.”
Rouss dabbed a tear with her handkerchief. “I have never felt more
confused at any time in my entire life, but I think I am clear now.”
She nodded to Marin. “One of you asks me to leave my home and venture
into the wilderness and make a life somewhere I have never been.”
She turned to Bartim. “The other allows me to stay in familiar
surroundings, but I fear will require to me compromise too much. And that is
not how I want to live, nor how I wish bring up a child, if Mam Gaia should bless
me again.”
Bartim scowled. Rouss blew her nose into the handkerchief.
“I have come to realise that I have other choices which I did not even consider
before. My roots are here and my skills are still in demand, at least enough to
keep bread on the table. Making babies is a growing concern in town these days.”
She attempted a smile. Neither Marin nor Bartim responded. The grin wilted on
her lips. “I fear neither of you will like what I am about to say.”
“What?” Marin pushed back his chair and leapt to his feet, hands
clenched at his side. “You can’t be thinking of accepting this oaf’s proposal.”
“You can curse me all you wish from your cell, deserter.” Bartim rose, placed
his hands on the table and leaned forward glowering. “I will see you rot in
jail.”
“Stop it!” Rouss cried.
Knock, knock, knock.
The rapping on the door froze them all in a bizarre tableau.
Knock, knock.
Rouss turned her head toward the sound. “Come in,” she croaked, barely
able to get the words out.
The door opened and Garint limped inside, hair and beard brushed and
wearing clean clothes. “I thought I’d get changed before I came over. Those
Rosh clothes are...” His voice trailed off at the sight of Bartim and Marin.
Rouss smiled and rushed to embrace him. “Garint. Thank goodness you’re
safe.”
****
Come back next week for a new story.
Glossary
Stars Reach words used
|
New words coined for this story (in rough order of use)
| ||
Darra
|
daughter of (e.g Rouss darra Sage)
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Sackamon
|
exclamation derived from Sacrament – Quebec French meaning “God Dammit”
|
Gaian
|
Religion based on worship of Gaia (Mother Earth)
|
heronna
|
Her honour (official title)
|
Genda
|
Canada
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juree
|
jury
|
Gummint
|
government
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munee
|
municipality
|
Mam Gaia
|
Earth (seen as a goddess)
|
crussin
|
croissant
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Meeda
|
metre
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maypa sirp
|
maple syrup
|
Meer
|
Leader of Genda
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Eldmin
|
Alderman/Alderwoman of the town council
|
Meriga
|
the former United States
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hizonna
|
His honour (official title
|
Meyco
|
Mexico
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Nowell
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Christmas (from the French Noel)
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Old Believers
|
Christians
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chinselk
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Chinese silk, obtained via trade with Rosh
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Otwa
|
Ottawa
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Prentice
|
apprentice
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Rosh
|
Russia
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Semba
|
December
| ||
Senamee
|
centimetre
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Sunna
|
son of (e.g. Garint sunna Jardin)
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Constructive comments welcome :-)
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