Armaran chapter 3

The first weeks in her new home passed by quickly. Amina got to know Emma's kin better and they were polite to her, though not at all interested in her life. The children were older than she was. The boys, Stenvil and Kreg, were almost fully grown men and the daughter Amma was four years her senior even though her behaviour was quite childish. Amina finally learned the name of ther father's cousin. It was Kros. Kros and Emma were very kind to her and she helped them as much as she could. Emma and Elma spent a couple of days each week teaching reading and numeracy to Amina and Amma. The villagers would always greet Amina when she went out on an errand by herself or with Emma. Answers to the letters Kros had sent to Amina's kin from across Armaran were arriving one by one. Each one was filled with condolences and promises of help and care for Amina in case Kros couldn't manage.

Winter time arrived and calmed the lives of the villagers. First snow came early. Snow in itself was quite uncommon in those parts of Armaran. Amina hadn't gone to the graveyard since the funeral but the snow covered landscape peeked her curiosity. Simple crosses had been placed in front of each grave and they were now covered with a thick layer of snow. Amina held out her hand to wipe off the snow from one of the crosses but changed her mind before her hand touched the soft, white cover. She didn't want to see evidence of her lost family. When the crosses were covered in snow, it felt almost like a bad dream.

Some blotches appeared in the snow on the graves. Some more snow fell from the branches hanging over the graves. The falling snow made small holes on the smooth snow cover. Amina looked up. There were no squirrels or birds on the branches but some kind of figure was crouching and staring at her. ”Greetings, Gahim,” Amina said. She was a bit startled by her own voice which sounded much louder than she had intended.

The spirit slid down from the branch and hung in mid-air on eye-level with Amina. It didn't say anything.

Amina bit her lip, trying to figure out what she should do. Usually spirits weren't angry or violent but they could sometimes be unpredictable.

Even though the spirit had no proper human form, it's movement was obviously meant to be a pompous bow.

Amina tried to imitate the movement as well as she could by waving her other hand back in a dandy arch and leaning her other foot in front of her in a sort of a bow.

”Hail to you, young Fatil,” the spirit whispered.

Amina nodded. ”The story felt fitting for my family... You were listening. Was there anyone else?”

The spirit was writhing in midair. ”There were many of us. We liked your story. I – Fansi, also another Fansi, also Finko, also Trua.”

Amina felt the hair at the back of her neck standing up. She was a little bit scared but also a little bit proud. The spirit was talking to her and liked her story. ”I can tell you another story right away.”

The Fansi writhed a moment as though thinking it through. ”Only me?”

”If the others don't want to hear another story or aren't here anymore, then it's just for you,” Amina replied.

It looked as if the Fansi frowned.

”I have a lot of stories. I can tell one just for you some other time. Would you call the other Gahim here now, please?”

The Fansi writhed for a moment and then whispered something.

There was some rustling between the branches and more snow fell on the graves. Another spirit descented in front of Amina.

Amina hesitated. She couldn't recognise the spirits' elements just by seeing them.

The Fansi turned its gaze from her to the other spirit. ”Finko,” it said.

Amina made a theatrical bow at it.

It answered her greeting. It looked a little more human shaped.

Amina began her story. It was a children's story which was used to teach the pronunciation of some of the tricky Armaranian words. She moved her face excessively with these words. Maybe the spirits could better remember how to speak if she could remind them of different words. After she finished the story, the spirits bowed and were just looking at her. Amina didn't know what to say to them so she looked at them in turns. She could feel their powers close to her. Moment by moment, she could feel the differences in their powers more clearly. Fansi – the water – felt fresh and flowing, and Finko – the ice – was more robust but stable.

Suddenly the spirits stirred and stormed back in between the branches.

Amina could hear footsteps sinking in to the snow behind her. She turned around.

Kros was walking towards her. He was serious.

”I came to see the snow,” Amina replied even though he hadn't said anything.

”Were they Gahim?” he answered in a worried tone.

Amina nodded. ”They came to hear a story. They heard the first one, too.”

Kros bit his lip and frowned. ”They wanted to hear more stories from you? Are you sure? Were they talking to you?”

Amina smiled. ”They introduced themselves. I think they don't remember how to speak properly anymore.”

Kros calmed down a bit. ”Perhaps one day you'll be a Fatil of the level your dad and mum were,” he said and smiled nervously. ”But no spirits are getting in the house.”

Amina nodded and took his hand. ”They know to keep out of people's houses for sure. Besides this is a way better place to tell the stories. It's always noisy inside.”

Kros led her out of the graveyard. ”It really is very calm here,” he whispered in a sad tone.

The snow melt into slushy puddles within the next few days, and in a week the landscape was bare again. The winter continued mild as usual. Around the new year and as days were the shortest, the children of the Cacco family fell ill. Kros was also feeling weak for a few days. Amina made some herbal tea and light soup according to Emma's instructions as she had to run some errands herself. Amina looked at the coughing and feverish people and focused not to be coughing or feverish herself. Anyone could get better if they just wanted to. Cousin was only sick for a couple of days but the children a whole week.

A few weeks later Emma fell seriously ill. No one knew what was wrong with her but she was in a lot of pain. Mr. Cacco went to a village nearby to get some more potent herbs that might be of use, as Kros was sitting by Emma's bedside worrying his head off. Amina took turns in sitting in the bedroom or went down to the main room. She made the same soup to Emma as she had done when the others were sick, but Emma was in too much pain to eat or drink anything. The herbs Mr. Cacco had brought made her feel a little better after a few days but she was still very weak. Amina climbed into the bed next to her and pressed her cheek gently on her abdomen. ”Does it still hurt?” she asked and lifted her cheek in rhyme with Emma's breathing.

”Yes, some,” she replied in a tired voice.

Amina and Emma were getting along well even though Emma had doubted her abilities in child rearing as she was barely 18 years old herself. Amina understood that the woman was being kind to her out of pure kindness even though she wanted to rest. She adjusted the blanket covering Emma with care and found herself another blanket. ”Can I sleep here for a while?” she asked and placed her cheek on Emma's abdomen again.

Emma nodded. ”Your head is so light it doesn't hurt.”

Amina smiled and closed her eyes. She thought about Emma's abdomen, how it might look like on the inside and could you see the pain. She thought that if something was broken – if you could say that a body is broken – could it be fixed. Would she know how to fix it? Heavy fatigue overcame her and she fell asleep before she could plan any further how to fix Emma.

As Amina woke up, she felt a tingling sensation in her abdomen. Emma was still asleep. Dusk had set in outside. Wind was blowing hard and raindrops were hitting the windows. Amina got up and tiptoed downstairs.

Kros was sitting at the table cleaning mud off of his boots. Elma was working at the hearth and the boys were reading a book over their father's shoulder. Amma's humming could be heard from the next room.

”She's asleep,” Amina said to Kros.

He nodded. His hair was still wet. ”It's great she got to rest all day. It would've been really bad for her to go out in this weather.”

Amina sat down next to Kros. The tingling in her abdomen continued and she tried to think of something to get her mind off of it. A thought crossed her mind but it wasn't a pleasent one. ”I'm nine years old already,” she said in an almost sad voice. Her birthday had been a little before the new year, the shortest day of the year.

Kros stopped cleaning his boot for a moment and stared into space. ”Yes, you are. But you're so hard-working and take care of everyone that one might think you're much older,” he replied and continued his cleaning fixing his eyes on the worn leather.

”I remember when my brother turned nine. He got to go see the timber rafting in the rapid real close.”

Stenvil sneered. ”Your brother was growing up to be a real country boy, wasn't he? I bet he couldn't even read.”

Amina made a face at Stenvil even though he hadn't lifted his eyes from the book even for a moment. ”Yes, he did and so will I real soon!” she snapped. She was going to say something insulting but the tingling in her abdomen ended so abruptly that she noticed it.

Kros sighed. ”You are all smart kids. You'd all do well in an academy, if not at the university.”

Ermin chuckled. ”Of course! My boys will go to the best institutions. Perhaps not as far as Everion, but Armaran has some fine places as well.”

Amina saw Kros's shoulders relax. Kros and Emma were not poor but they had no assets, no property, like a house of their own. They would likely never have enough money to send even one child to study in an institution, but they could both read and basic numeracy and in the future were determined to teach their children all that they knew. Amina felt she was very lucky that she got to live in this house even though everyone in the Cacco family was obviously proud of their better circumstance and oppurtunities.

”I think it's nice that I got to stay here. You've been so kind to me and it's great to learn how to read,” she said to Kros in a low voice.

He stopped his cleaning and looked her in the eyes. He was smiling. ”Of course. You are as precious to us as your entire family was. And everyone else cares for you too. I've received letters where your aunts, uncles and cousins all want to hear how you're doing.”

Amina was relieved. She could remember only some of her kin vaguely as her family had always been much on the road and traveled across the heartlands of Armaran. They had a house in the south-east but she couldn't remember had there been any other tenants beside her family, like in the Cacco house. ”What will happen to my old home?” she asked after thinking about all her things left in the house.

Kros set down the finally clean boot. ”I don't know. Letters take a long time to get to those parts of Armaran and so far I've only got one reply from your cousins there. I can ask them in the next letter.”

The storm was smiting the town for another two days. Amina spent most of her time with Emma and snoozed several times with her cheek gently on Emma's abdomen as it didn't bother her. Emma was actually happy to have company and a warm cheek on her belly as she was starting to feel better. On the third morning sun was shining and the rays were reflect from all of the water droplets on the windows and tree branches.

”Such a nice weather. Go out today, if you just feel like it,” Emma encouraged Amina.

Amina thought about it for a moment. She had believed that her grogginess was due to the weather but her head didn't yet feel quite clear. She didn't want to leave Emma alone, either, even though she was more lively than she had been before the storm. She hesitated. ”I could go nextdoor after noon,” she suggested.

Emma smiled a tired smile. ”I'm sure that would be nice.”

Amina left the house after breakfast and spent some time with the children in the neighbourghood. She couldn't focus on anything so she wandered off and ended up at the graveyard. The altar had already dried in the sun and it was surrounded by the mist of evaporating moisture. ”I want to learn a dance,” she said out loud. She was thinking about all the stories she knew and how many of them described spirits and people dancing together. She would have wanted to dance in honour of her family but could only tell a short story through her grief at the funeral. Now she was about to burst with the repressed emotion and wanted to relieve it by dancing.

Finko stepped forward from between the trees. ”Why do you want to dance, child?”

Amina was still staring at the altar. ”I want to dedicate it to my family.”

Finko walked around the altar a couple of times. ”I cannot teach you the steps.”

Amina let out a disappointed sigh. ”Many stories tell about the dances but it's always only some part of the steps and movements, never the whole dance.”

Finko came close to Amina's face. ”Tell me. Tell all the steps and moves. Tell, tell!”

Amina stared through the semi-transparent spirit at the altar for a moment. She nodded. She recalled only the dancing parts of all the stories she knew, and Finko moved according to her words and then helped her find the right motion in her body.

Sun was shining only into the highest tree tops when Amina finally decided it was enough for the day.

Finko bid her a polite farewell and vanished in between the trees.

Amina rushed home and went straight upstairs. Emma was sleeping calmly. Amina crawled onto the bed next to her and placed her cheek yet again on her abdomen. She instantly calmed down. ”I meant to come sooner...” she mumbled and fell asleep.

***

Amina awoke to a clatter coming from downstairs. She jumped off the bed and peeked through the door. Elma was scolding Amma for dropping a bowl. Luckily, the bowl was made of wood and hadn't shattered and the hot water had only splashed onto the floor right in front of the hearth.

Emma made a sleepy sound and Amina quickly closed the door not to let the noise disturb her.

”Is it evening already?” Emma mumbeled.

”Yes,” Amina replied. ”Elma and Amma are making dinner. I'll go help them.”

”You don't have to. I'll go,” Emma said sitting up on the edge of the bed.

”You must rest!” Amina protested.

Emma smiled. Even though it was dark in the room, Amina could feel it. Emma walked carefully to the door and opened it slightly. She was still smiling, and Amina was relieved. Her smile was what it used to be even though some creases around her eyes bore witness to all the pains suffered.

Amma cried out downstairs as she spotted them at the door, and Elma turned to look at them. ”Goodness sake! Emma darling, you got up!”

Emma was still smiling as she climbed down the stairs taking care to support herself with her hand on the wall. ”I feel much better now.”

Elma agreed with Amina that Emma shouldn't work too hard and told her to sit down and only gave her minor tasks to do concerning their dinner.

Amina climbed down after her and helped with everything she could think of without anyone asking her to do them. She was happy. Emma was well again and her own abdomen wasn't tingling anymore. Emma smiled all through the night and her being well made everyone in the house cheerful.

Before she fell asleep, Amina heard Kros and Emma's conversation. They were happy and relieved, as was Amina, and Emma praised her conscientiousness towards herself over the past few days. Emma confessed that having Amina sleep by her side had greatly calmed her and she had always felt better afterwards. Kros jested that Amina had told Emma's body to recover and made sure it happened. They laughed, but Amina was serious under the cover of her blanket. She remembered how she had wanted to fix Emma. Had she done it? Only a few months earlier she had survived without a scratch as many people died around her. What was she? Or what was inside her? She recalled the small voice she had heard inside her head at her family's funeral. Tears were welling up in her eyes. She still couldn't remember what happened in the fateful moments when her family died but she knew it was something bad. However, she had a feeling inside her that she could remember but something was stopping her. Something that wasn't a part of her. It wasn't even human. It was Praie, a healing spirit. She was Kahtal.