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.
Chess (Photo: via cpacanada)
Part 4
The Builder
Rouss darra
Sage chatted quietly behind the bar with Tarshay as they tidied up after the
lunch crowd. The patrons had thinned out already as people decided that had
better do something useful with what remained of their day since half the
morning had been spent in a hastily called town meeting.
In the corner, in his usual seat Mister Bartim leaned back on his chair
watching her. Rouss glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He still wore
a formal jacket from the morning’s town meeting which gave his stern face a certain
elegance. He needed to smile more. She interrupted her train of thought and
admitted he wasn’t the only one. Perhaps he wouldn’t make a too bad a husband. She
felt her face flush at the idea. She looked at the frayed cuffs of her blouse. Oh
Leymo, you went off to find adventure and bring back money for our future, and
look at me now.
Bartim raised his arm and waved, “Rouss darra Sage, come and sit with
me a minute. I’d like to talk with you.”
She folded the dish cloth on the bar, winked at Tarshay beside her, and
then walked over to his table. “Eldmin and Mister.” He nodded as she pulled out
a chair and sat facing him across the solid wooden table. To his left a chess
board sat, its pieces stood at attention, ready for play. An empty beer mug
rested between his hands. “It so happens I have some things I want to talk to
you about too.”
“I’m pleased.” He smiled. “You look lovely as always, although a little
colour would suit you better.”
Rouss responded with a tight smile. The jacket enfolded his broad frame
a little tightly spoiling the effect a little. “I heard the town meeting this
morning was interesting?”
Bartim shook his head. “A kerfuffle as usual. Warden Lormah thinks he
can convince people of anything as long as he lets them vent. And he thinks it
keeps the Gaian Eldmin happy to ask the questions too. In my view it’s better
to give people two options you can live with and have them exhaust each other
fighting amongst themselves.”
“There were some good suggestions.”
“Hrumpf. Planting in the wastelands? None of us will be around long
enough to see any benefit from that.”
“Reclothing Mam Gaia for our children and grandchildren is no waste.”
Bartim touched the cross at his neck. “Building a monument would be
more appropriate for the Meer. A fitting legacy.”
“And more lucrative for the builder,” Rouss smirked. “I took you for a
more public spirited individual Eldmin Bartim.” Bartim’s brows lowered and he
suppressed a look of irritation. “I thought the library idea was a good one too,”
said Rouse. “There are lots of books that people would benefit from.”
Bartim grimaced. “Your friend Garint outdid himself with that one.
‘Books are a gift from our ancestors,’ he said. You should have seen Eldmin
Terrea’s face. She went pale as a ghost. The Gaians are as touchy as our church
when it comes to old books.” He shrugged. “I like the Warden’s idea of a commemorative
arch, I’ve always wanted to build one of those, but I’ll be happy to create whatever
the council decides.”
“If you win the commission of course.”
“Of course.” He waved a hand in the air. “Anyway that’s not what I want
to talk about.” Bartim pushed the mug aside and spread his hands on the table.
“It’s been some time since we last spoke Rouss darra Sage. I am curious to know
your thoughts.” He eyed her closely but she displayed no reaction. “I am a
widower, you are a widow. We have both experienced the grief of losing a child.
We understand each other.”
Rouss felt her chest tighten. Seeing one’s own flesh and blood emerge
lifeless into the world was an anguish she would not wish upon the vilest
creature on Mam Gaia’s round belly.
Bartim continued. “My daughter is nearly grown. We can have another child
and make a new family together. Have you decided yet to accept my proposal?”
She held her breath momentarily then shook her head slightly as she exhaled.
“I have told you Mister Bartim. I cannot make such a decision until I know for
sure what happened to my husband.”
“It’s been over three years Rouss, your mourning is excessive, many
people think so.”
“I do not live my life based on what other people think.”
He nodded. “Indeed, and that is an admirable quality. All the same, it’s
time to let go of the past and build a new life. I’m offering you a fine home,”
he smiled, “with a roof that doesn’t leak, a secure future…”
“I will give you an answer Mister Bartim, when I feel clearer about my
situation.” She took a breath. “Right now I have a few other things I would like
to discuss with you.”
He sat back and rested his hands on the table, a hint of amusement playing
on his lips. “Please speak your mind.”
She took a breath. “Firstly, while I appreciate you concern and generosity,
there is no need to have Tagair come and fix things at my cottage.”
He waved one hand in the air. “It is nothing. Things are slow this
winter. He needs something to do. Idle hands make for the devils’ work, yes?”
“He is old enough to look after himself. He’s almost ready to be a
Mister, is he not?”
“In a year or two perhaps.”
“Why the delay?”
“In my judgement he’s not ready.” He smiled thinly. “Although I do
concede that he is more useful to me than all the junior prentices put
together.”
Rouss forced her jaws to unclench and spoke softly. “There is also the
matter of the young woman he…”
Bartim’s hand slammed down on the table. “No. I will most certainly not
allow him to marry her. She’s too young and he is…” He dropped his voice. “He
is not suitable.”
Rouss leaned forward over the table and hissed. “Is that your judgement
talking or something else entirely? You cannot treat people like…” she motioned
toward the chess board, “like pawns in a game.”
His face flushed and his eyes narrowed. He took a breath and stared at
his calloused hands. Finally he raised his eyes and smiled. “Rouss darra Sage,
I am concerned for her welfare, as I’m sure you can understand. I feel she has
missed the guidance of her mother and lacks the necessary...” he paused,
raising his eyes to hers, “…judgement in such matters. It is partly my fault. I
regret allowing her to work here with my sister-in-law. Too many unsavoury
characters. “
Rouss bit her lip to repress a smile. Bartim caught the glint in her
eye. “You would not think it so amusing if she were your daughter I’m sure.” He
glowered at the table then brightened a little. “Well now. Perhaps that is a
solution to all our disagreements. If you were to become her step-mother to
keep an eye on her I could consider allowing Tagair to court her, and then, in
time, consider a marriage.” He raised an eyebrow. “What do you say?”
Rouss darra Sage’s mouth tightened. “I understand your protectiveness
but if you are reluctant to train up a new senior prentice, how can you commit
to a marriage and raising another child. And ‘In time’ both your daughter and your
prentice will do as they wish, if you continue to be unreasonable.” She stood
up abruptly almost knocking the chair over. “Good day.”
“Please think about it soon, Rouss darra Sage. Neither of us can wait
forever.” He watched her weave through the empty tables, grab her coat from a
peg on the wall and slam the door on her way out. He scowled and looked over to
the bar where Tarshay stood, head down, arranging mugs behind the counter. The
clock still said it was early but he decided he didn’t care. “Daughter,“ he called.
“my mug is empty.”
Rouss left the tavern and strode towards her cottage. At a cross road
she hesitated, then turned south. The arched church door was propped slightly
ajar with a smooth round stone. She slipped inside softly, knelt briefly in the
aisle and sat down in a pew near the back. Rouss sat with her eyes closed and
tried to calm herself, seeking some clarity over the tangled thoughts filling
her mind.
Several women were sitting in the front pews. One glanced around and nudged
the woman next to her. “Look, it’s the black widow. Praying for her ghost to
return,” she whispered loudly.
“I heard she’s turning Gaian,” the other replied. “That’s why half the
believers in town won’t use her as a midwife.”
“I wouldn’t either if it were me.”
“You silly fool. We’re both too old
to be bothered with all that nonsense.” They both tittered.
Rouss waited silently for what seemed like an age, ears burning and
face set in a scowl. When she decided she had stayed long enough, she abruptly rose
to her feet and left.
****
Read The Prisoner of Genda - Part 5 The Messenger, here.
Glossary
Stars Reach words used
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New words coined for this story (in rough order of use)
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Darra
|
daughter of (e.g Rouss darra Sage)
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Sackamon
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exclamation derived from Sacrament – Quebec French meaning “God Dammit”
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Gaian
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Religion based on worship of Gaia (Mother Earth)
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heronna
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Her honour (official title)
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Genda
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Canada
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juree
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jury
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Gummint
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government
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munee
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municipality
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Mam Gaia
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Earth (seen as a goddess)
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crussin
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croissant
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Meeda
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metre
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maypa sirp
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maple syrup
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Meer
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Leader of Genda
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Eldmin
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Alderman/Alderwoman of the town council
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Meriga
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the former United States
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hizonna
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His honour (official title
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Meyco
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Mexico
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Nowell
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Christmas (from the French Noel)
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Old Believers
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Christians
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chinselk
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Chinese silk, obtained via trade with Rosh
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Otwa
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Ottawa
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Prentice
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apprentice
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Rosh
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Russia
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Semba
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December
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Senamee
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centimetre
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Sunna
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son of (e.g. Garint sunna Jardin)
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Constructive comments welcome :-)
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