This time the pause was even longer. Zynaid pressed his ear against the
wall, trying to hear if either of them had gotten up and just walked away,
leaving the conversation there. “We don't speak of it often. It was...
regrettable all around. Zyn was the only one who made an issue of it,” she
said with no small measure of understatement.
She sighed and kept on. “It was about two years before he left the
village. Esther was a girl who mostly kept to herself, rather shy but quite
strikingly beautiful.”
“Uh, I'm confused,” Parnsus admitted. “I thought you just said that Zyn
wasn't interested in anyone just now.”
Another sigh. “No, he wasn't,” Sadif said. “It would have been better if
he had in this case. If somehow he and Esther somehow would have already been
together... but we never even considered the two of them as a pair. In any
case, nothing that happened afterward would have occurred.”
She audibly shifted her chair in the kitchen. “Esther was a good looking
girl, but she was rather shy and very insecure. It was easy to drive her to
tears; she didn't trust others easily. But there were some boys in the
village...” Already the memories were starting to come back, and Zynaid found
himself balling his fists in bitter anger. “She had informally courted each of
them several times; she had... complicated relationships with them. There were
three of them in particular: Abram, Jonas and Eansoet.” The pause that
followed made it pretty clear that Parnsus recognized that last name. “What is
it?” Sadif asked; apparently she too could tell.
“We came across someone named Eansoet just before we came here, on the
shores of the Galean Sea. He was there gathering water and...” he stopped,
trying recollect. “He looked... strange. Almost a little androgynous.”
If he could have paid to see what was going on with his eyes Zynaid would
have picked that moment just to see his grandmother's expression, even as it
verged on morbid curiosity. She apparently didn't desire to respond to it
right away, at least no verbally. “Esther was eventually engaged to be wed to
another young man from a neighboring village, but shortly after she traveled
out one night, but she didn't return home. Finally near dawn she came back,
beaten up and disheveled. Word got out, and she mentioned those three boys'
names. Some tried to keep it quiet, they said it was just teenagers being
teens, but the fact that it was with three of them... it wasn't long before
she was accused of adultery.”
An audible gulp from Parnsus followed. “Was that what it really was?”
She harrumphed in an ironic manner. “That's exactly what Zyn immediately
asked of us. He claimed that he had been walking in the hills that evening,
and from afar saw the four of them. He claimed that the three boys were
dragging Esther off unwillingly.
“The elders came together, questioned Esther and the three boys. The
judgment was that she had committed adultery. The elders couldn't agree on a
punishment right away, so they deferred. That night... we found her body the
next day, hanging on a rope from a barn's beam.”
Parnsus gasped. “She... what was, was she afraid or...”
“Shame, at least, that's what we all said it was,” Sadif said. “All except
for Zyn.” She grew quiet again. “I'd never seen him like that before. I'd
seen him boiling over with anger, ready to shout and scream... but he was so
quiet. And yet seething at the same time. He insisted we had all failed
Esther, that she hadn't gone away willing, that we were burying a rape under
the rug...
“I knew he was angry, but I didn't think much more of it. I should
have...” she said fatefully. “The next morning, we found out that Eansoet had
wandered out by himself into the hills, very drunk. A neighbor claimed she saw
Zynaid stalking him from a distance. Eansoet was found...” she shuddered, as
if unable to handle the memories.
“His knife was covered in blood; they found him laying bleeding out on a
hillside, nearly dead. He had been... mutilated. Unmanned.”
There was no doubt that at that moment Parnsus was cupping his hands over
his groin wincing.
“Zynaid said that he had only seen Eansoet from a distance and left him.
He said that if he had mutilated himself it was because he was incredibly
drunk.”
“Did... do you think that he?...” Parnsus whispered.
“He was right when he said that Eansoet was extremely drunk,” Sadif
replied. “But... that also could have made it easier for Zyn.”
The room was silent for several minutes, making Zynaid again wonder if the
conversation had died again. “Zyn denied he harmed Eansoet, but he wasn't very
vigorous about defending himself. He just kept saying that Eansoet had gotten
what was coming to him and that Esther should never have been found guilty of
anything. Abram and Jonas left the village for good shortly after, so we
couldn't even investigate what had originally happened with Esther.
“Things went downhill from there. Those last two years, the arguments grew
worse. Aside from the priests there wasn't any authority he respected. All of
us came together as a community, trying to work out ways that we could help
him. We tried to get him books to read, we tried to involve him in projects to
help some of the neighbors when their homes needed to be rebuilt. Everything
we could think of, we kept trying...”
“...why though?” Parnsus asked.
“...because. Because if we don't try and make the world a better place,
how are we living Eli's will?” she replied simply. “We have something special
here, something visitors mention all the time. Gemesaret is a place... how do
I describe it? We look out for each other, and we won't give up on anyone...”
Then she made Zynaid's jaw drop. “It's not the path for him though...”
“Uh... what?” Parnsus said, surprised himself.
“I always pushed him, I always needed him to live up to our standards... my
standards. I never stopped to consider just how it must have come across to
him.
“So much I could have done differently if I had just been wiser...” her
voice softened to nearly nothing. Finally Zynaid heard chair stools moving
about. “I should retire for now. You should get some sleep yourself, Simon.”
And with that she left to her bed.
Over the years Zynaid imagined many times what his grandmother had been
thinking as she sternly looked at him, chastised him, kept pushing him. He
always imagined her gloating, being a small minded, petty woman who was more
concerned with having her grandson be “proper” than anything else.
And yet... she was admitting it?...
The onset of more pains in his stomach brought him out of his
contemplation. Without further ado he quietly slipped into his bed and tried
to sleep, all the while hearing his grandmother's words running through his
mind over and over again.
* * *
December 30th, 706CR
The morning decried that it was to be cool and, for once, still. Though
brisk winds were a common occurrence near the Galean Sea, for this particular
morning the air stayed calm. Dawn and rooster crows woke Zynaid early, along
with his aching leg and one of his headaches. The pain, though persistent, was
promptly dismissed as he stood up and stepped outside to breathe in the air,
trying to wake himself up.
“Still a morning person as ever.”
Zynaid smirked at his grandmother. “Life's too important to sleep away,”
he said, turning around to see Sadif standing near the door to the kitchen
behind him. “Let Parnsus be the one who sleeps all he wants.”
“Hmph,” she intoned as if to chide him. “He seems like a nice young man.”
“Oh yes, very amiable. But lazy as a sloth,” he responded grinning. Sadif
blinked, taken just a little aback by her grandson's relaxed stance. “You
should probably know, the wall between my old room and the kitchen are very
thin in some places. I heard your conversation with Parnsus last night.”
To his surprise, [i]she[/i] did not seem very surprised. “I figured.”
“...what?”
“You always knew more about sensitive topics that you had no business
knowing about as a child. I always suspected you had some way of eavesdropping
on our conversations; when you left home Ranshod refurbished some of the
house.” She turned around and slowly moved to take a chair in the kitchen,
staring at the wall in question. “We figured out just how thin the wall was
there and that you must have been listening on us all the time.”
Normally he expected to be figured out by people who by their professions
tried to outwit him. His own grandmother though... Suddenly all certainty
about what to say went out the window, as the two estranged family members
regarded each other at a distance, as if no longer separated by a raging fire.
“It's funny, but as I thought about it last night, I'm not actually sure
the life in the cloth would have been right for me,” he managed to say at last.
“Oh?” Sadif smirked a little, though unlike ever before she did not induce
tension with it. “Why is that?”
“Latitude, I think. Operating under a strict hierarchy of duties and
having everything laid not... not sure I would have been happy with that life,”
he said, wandering over to the table near her. “Though I do have to admit life
as a Questioner does sound like it would have been interesting in some
respects.”
Clearly the thought of her grandson as a Questioner hadn't ever crossed
Sadif's mind as her eyes widened in surprise. “You? A Questioner?” she tasted
the idea for a few moments. “I suppose you would be the type to enjoy grilling
people,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eye.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Zynaid laughed out of genuine
amusement from something his grandmother said. “Oh you have no idea,” he
grinned, before shifting his gaze to the door, contemplating, his expression
darkening. “Did Abram and Jonas ever return at all?”
Shaking her head slowly, Sadif sighed. “Never. We listened for word, but
they left like you did. No one has heard a thing in all those years since.”
She thumbed at a cup she was nursing, her expression uncertain. “I forgave you
for whatever you did, Zyn. If nothing else, know that is true.”
“I know,” Zynaid said quietly. He sighed to drive away the unsettled
feeling in his gut. “Even though... I wanted to believe that you didn't. It
was easier and quicker for me to think about it that way.”
Slowly nodding, Sadif slumped in her chair. “Do you ever have... regrets?”
she finally asked.
Zynaid took his time responding. “Regrets are for people who don't
understand that Eli doesn't grant us the privilege of living the past over
again.”
“Then, if you were faced with a similar situation again, would you do the
same?”
Another moment of silence. “I'd do whatever it took to bring depraved
souls like that to justice.” He expected his grandmother to chide him, but she
merely sighed, frustrated but perhaps unable as well to comprehend. “Even if
she had been willing, though she wasn't, what then? What would have been her
punishment compared to theirs?”
“Compared to? I'm unsure,” she admitted. “It would have to be decided by
the elders.
Zynaid scoffed. “And you think they would have treated her as equally as
them? She would have been punished as an adulteress, but the three of them?
They knowingly sinned and went after her; the three of them at once. Where's
the justice for those who willingly degrade themselves into beasts and give
into their basest passions?” He stared long and hard at his grandmother before
folding his arms and staring outside again. “If they refuse to control
themselves then they should be shackled. And if they bring harm to others in
the process, then they should be put into a place where they can never do so
again.”
Sadif sighed again. “And you've never felt such urges yourself?” she
ventured.
With clarity and conviction Zynaid was able to turn back to her and answer.
“No. To be perfectly honest, I've never felt it.”
“To no one at all?”
Zynaid shrugged. “Never even once. It's just something Eli didn't give to
me. And frankly, I don't see what I'm missing out on. Just a rat race of
having desires that are a struggle to fulfill and never ending temptations that
can drag you down. I don't know [i]why[/i] someone would want urges like that.”
“I suppose...” Sadif sighed, losing herself in thought. “I should have
listened to Ranshod more. He was more right about you than he ever realized.”
The bearded man regarded his grandmother curiously. “How so?”
“He was the one that said you needed space, that maybe you were different
and needed to find your own path. He always told me I was pushing you to hard,
that I should let up just a little. He warned that I was suffocating you...”
she buried her face in her hands and rubbed. “When you left, I couldn't bear
to look at him for days.”
She lifted her gaze and locked eyes with Zynaid. “I never could admit it.
I've lived my life up to this point, feeling so [i]right[/i] about what I
believed...” she lamented as she stared off into space. “And now he’s gone.
And I’ve lost the opportunity to apologize for ignoring his advice for all
those years. I'm a foolish old woman.”
It was hard, almost impossible for Zynaid to summon words in response. He
stood up, wandered to the door, staring outside at the cool, serene morning
light rise into the sky. “Then you know... you know I can't stay here.”
Sitting up from her own chair and wandering to the counter, she filled her
cup with some water from a pitcher. She didn't respond before taking a drink.
“It wouldn't be right for you to.”
For the first time in his life, Zynaid felt like he was at some kind of
peace with his grandmother. “I...” he started to say, before staring outside
again. What was he going to say? That he wished she had been able to say this
sooner? It seemed like something that was fully within his right, but it
felt... wrong somehow. Too much like gloating. Too wounding when there was
already hurt.
“Just...,” Sadif said, taking another sip from her cup before setting it
down. Zynaid turned around to face her. “Did it hurt? The arguments? The
leaving?”
On some level it seemed like such an inane question. Pain was pain, and no
amount of wishing could push it away or keep it from coming. “What does it
matter?”
“Because. Because I need to know,” she pleaded.
The young man rubbed his fingers against the doorframe. “I dealt with it.
I deal with it,” he responded at last.
“That would definitely be your mother then,” she mused aloud. “She was
willing to do whatever she needed to do, no matter what it cost her.” She
seemed to genuinely smile as memories passed before her eyes, until she cast
her gaze downward again, other memories also making themselves known. “It
always costs more than you imagine, more than you may be willing to give.”
The screaming and the bitterness passed through Zynaid's mind. The hate,
the vile words, then the angry, empty searches on the streets of Korazin, the
humiliating (if very useful) lessons from Lorian... then the island, facing
that infinite expanse of ocean, feeling trapped, seeing and [i]feeling[/i] his
mentor's soul ripped apart... then the trials of setting himself up on his own,
the bitter tastes of failure.
“I'll go wake Simon. We should be leaving soon.”
* * *
It didn't take long at all to prepare. Parnsus, once actually aroused out
of bed, was quick to catch up with them sharing in breakfast. Since he had
already brought the horses to the house during the night, all that was required
was making sure they were well watered and fed for the journey.
Unlike their entrance, Zynaid and Parnsus found their departure to be a
quiet affair that aroused little attention from the village. In fact, the only
one who came by to see them off was Ioel.
“Will you ever return?” he asked of his old departing friend.
As he adjusted the saddle on his horse, Zynaid shrugged. “We'll see,” he
said noncommittally. “If I'm in the area someday again... we'll see,” he said
again.
It wasn't fully what Ioel wished, but it seemed to be something he could
live with. “Zyn, whatever happens... if you do ever need anything, I'll be
ready.”
At first Zynaid pondered if there could be any practical use for such aid
vis a vis his trade, but then again, it never did hurt to have people ready
help around like that. He nodded to his old friend, and was about to turn away
before stopping to add a soft “Thank you.” It seemed to be more than enough to
bring a small smile to Ioel's face.
As the two travelers mounted their horses and bid their ado, they were
stopped by Sadif. “Zyn!” she shouted as she hurried her old, feeble frame
over. “Zyn, wait.”
“Yes?”
“Take care of yourself. And...” she gazed up at her grandson. “Are you
ready? For whatever's to come?”
The question seemed a little strange and out of the blue, but it was one
that he had no trouble answering. “I'll manage.”
His answer didn't serve to resolve her concern. “Zyn... you've dealt with
pain all your life. Not just your body, but...” she took his hand to her own.
“You were right. Even here, there's pain. But out there... are you ready for
what's to come? You've already endured enough pain for a lifetime. What if...
what if you find more than you're prepared to meet? What happens when you're
not strong enough?”
Zynaid's gaze cast out to the horizon, as the stillness of the morning
lifted and cold winter winds began to billow again. “Then I'll push and
[i]make[/i] myself strong enough.”
With that, he and Parnsus directed their horses north, leaving the village
behind. Ioel faded back to his home, leaving Sadif to retire to her own. She
stepped inside and sat down at her table wearily.
“That's what I'm afraid of...” _______________________________________________
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