Tag: Lano’s Children

So a few years ago I decided to try and write Silverwood from the perspective of an uninvolved character attempting to write a book about Anthem and Ithea years after the fact. It didn’t really work at the time. But I was bored today so I took another shot at it. This is a long time after what I usually talk about. Ro is probably around 62-63 here (which for Drezhein is more like mid forties because they age a little more slowly.)

               “Are
you Ro Silverwood?” Everett asked. The woman in the door frame wrinkled her
nose.

               “Kimyair.”
She corrected. “I’ve been married for over forty years and people still call me by that name.”

               “You
can’t blame them, when none of your siblings changed their names.”

               “I
suppose you better come in then.” She said with a sigh. “After all you must
have travelled a long way to get here.” Ro moved out from in front of the door.
Everett moved past her into a cluttered cottage. He looked around, trying to
seem inconspicuous. Drying herbs hung in bunches from the rafters, and the
small table was covered in more, ready to join them. A small shelf on one wall
was overflowing with bottles and packets of things he couldn’t identify. A
staff leaned against the shelf, tipped with blue quartz and decorated with
dangling shards of painted bone. One whole corner was dominated by a loom, a
spinning wheel and the fruits of and supplies for those two things. Most noticeable
of all was the painted lyo skull hanging on the wall by the door. Everett knew
that the Inuans wore skull masks – everyone did. But he wouldn’t have suspected
Ro to actually have one herself.

               “Not
what you expected, I imagine. Coming from Sanirra it must seem so quaint.”

               “I didn’t
mean to pry.”

               “Of
course you did. You wouldn’t have come out here if you didn’t.” Ro moved around
the table to grab two cups off of yet another shelf and fill them up with liquid
from a kettle hanging over the fire. “You’ll take some zirya though. It’s too chilly to do without.” She pushed the herbs
to one side of the table and put both cups down.

               Everett
took a seat at the table after clearing the chair of bits of leaf and ribbon.
Ro hadn’t sat down yet – she was busy pushing the herbs into baskets which had
been on the floor. He studied her. He’d only seen one portrait of Ro, but it
couldn’t be more different than what he saw now. She had been a young woman
then, preened and polished as any other Sanirran lady, albeit with her hair cut
almost scandalously short for the time. Now she’d traded silk for fur-lined
wool, slippers for leather boots and silver for painted bone. Her hair was
longer and worn in Inuan style now – part twisted up, part left down, all of it
braided with beads made of bone and feathers and tiny ceramic bells.

               He took
a sip of the drink she had poured him. It was sweeter than he would have
expected, thick and cloying. But there was an aftertaste of spice there, too,
and it sent a fire through him with completely chased off the chill of the
mountain air. He took another sip.

               “My
name is Everett Byrnes and I’ve been commissioned to write a book about Anthem
and Ithea.”

               “Oh?”
Ro didn’t even look up from what she was doing.

               “In
light of recent…er…events in Sanirra-“

               “The
revolution you mean. Don’t look so surprised. I can hardly be ignorant as to
what my grandchildren have been up to recently.” She said. He cleared his
throat.

               “Yes.
That. Drezhein have long memories and some of them seemed to remember that
Ithea was violently opposed to the treaty from the beginning and was working to
stop it. Those people are interested in the past, only there are very few
records on those two.”

               “Hence
the book.” Ro said.

               “Yes.
Since they stayed so much off the grid I thought it would be best to start with
their children.” He finished. Ro finally stopped fiddling with the herbs and
sat down at the table.

               “Then I’m
afraid you’ve wasted a trip. I have very little to say about them. And I was
too young when they died to have known much of what they were up to.”

               “Rona
seemed to think otherwise. She’s the one who told me how to find you.”

               “Of
course she did.” Ro groaned. “She’s so much like Ithea, really.”

               “So you
do remember them.”

               “I was
seven, almost eight, when they died. Of course I remember. I remember they were
both controlling and wanted their own way all the time. I remember that they
fought constantly, both verbally and physically. But they were never bitter
about it. I remember that Ithea would sing me lullabies at night until I fell
asleep. And that father spent most of his time shut up in his workroom. But we
always ate dinner as a family, no matter what. And that led to some incredibly
awkward dinners.” She paused.

               “Most
of my siblings were in boarding school by that point. A month on, a week off. At
home it was just Kaite and me – until she went to school too. Ithea would encourage
us to go outside and get into trouble. She taught us how to set snares for
rabbits and how to climb trees and what to do if we got bit by a snake. Father
wanted us to be a little more reserved. He would buy fancy dresses and take us
into town – to the theater and to balls and concerts and picnics.”

               “I
remember how much they loved each other. People didn’t see it. They saw the
bickering and the fighting, the constant flirting and cheating and trying to one-up
each other. But I remember the day she died, and the look on his face
afterwards. How lost he was without her. I remember the fight he and Charlie
had about her, right before he threw Charlie out of the house. And I remember
when Ithea’s friend Sonya came to get us because she was worried for our
safety.”

               “Ah, but
that’s all domestic. I don’t remember anything political. If they talked about
it, I was too young to understand. So I have little to say that would be of any
use to you. Why ask the youngest, anyway? Surely Charlie would be better. Or
Gavin or Cyan, since they live in Sanirra.”

               “To be
honest…you’re the least intimidating of your siblings.” Everett said. Ro
laughed. “Not to mention,” he continued, “Perhaps the easiest to get to. I’m still
looking for Charlie but Gavin and Cyan are difficult to see. Kaite seems to
have disappeared and as for Keir and Dumas well. They’re currently off
somewhere, as far as I could tell, and there’s no way of knowing when they’ll
be back.”

               “Well,
I can’t help with that. But I might be able to get you in to see Gavin. In all
his life he’s never once refused me a favor. I can’t promise how much help he’ll
be. But if you interest him enough he might be able to point you to Cyan. And
she’ll know exactly where everyone is and how to find them.”

               “You’re
actually going to help me?” He asked. Ro shrugged.

               “My
family has a bad reputation, and I won’t argue the fact that they deserve it.
But, it’s still my family. And they have their good points too. Maybe this book
will help change the way we’re viewed.” She stood up and began searching
through the items on the table, then the counter and then the floor. Everett
sat, and sipped his drink, and watched.

               “I’m
sure I still have stationary in here somewhere.” Ro muttered. “Of course you
got here just in time. A week later and we’d be gone. In Inua we only live in
cottages during the winter.”

               “So
that’s the reason for the clutter, is it?”

               “One of
them. We have to replenish the supplies we used and the supplies we’re going to
take with us. To make sure everything is protected and packed away until next
winter. Ah, here we are!” She finally pulled a slightly rumpled stack of paper
out from under the pile of woven fabric. A quill came with it, looking more
than slightly worse for wear. She saw his expression and shrugged. “When you
have as many children and grandchildren and pets as I do, you’ll understand
that it is very difficult to keep anything nice and neat.”

               “Why
this? I don’t mean to offend you but after the splendor of Sanirra, why would
you choose to live such a meager life out here?”

               “Such a
city boy, taken in by glitz and glamor and looking down your nose at everything
else. Just like my siblings, really. They’ve never understood it either. But it’s
simple. I love it out here. The scenery, the people, the culture. Sanirra is a
country meant for people like my parents. But this kind of wild country is
meant for people like me. I never was as comfortable in the city as most of my
siblings. Besides, my life out here has been very rewarding – and full of far
less turmoil than any of my siblings face on a daily basis.”

               She sat
back down and began to write. It was a short note, five sentences at most. She
blotted the ink and sealed the letter before Everett could even begin to
decipher her rather horrid handwriting. She pushed the letter into his hands.

               “You
can give this to Gavin. He’ll meet with you now. I doubt he’ll tell you much,
but you can try.”

               “Thank
you. I mean that, truly.” He said. She waved his thanks away.

               “Don’t
start that. I’m not interested. Now. Do you need anything? A place to sleep?
Supplies?”

               “Oh,
no. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m travelling quite comfortably. But I’ll
leave you to your work if you don’t have anything else to add.”

               “No.
That’s all from me. My memories of my family are good and I’d like to keep them
that way. I don’t need, or want, to know what my parents did with their spare
time.” She said. Everett finished the last of his drink and stood up.

               “Then I
won’t bother to send you a copy of the finished book.” He said. But he said it
with a smile and Ro smiled in response.

               “Good
day, Mr. Byrnes.” She said. He saw himself out.