Impulse Control I

With the note of that flute, a young man entered the stage. I knew him in passing but he was completely changed here. He angled his head back and forth, face covered by an elaborately carved deer mask; then ran lightly across the stage on his toes, making a few long jumps and landing them neatly—then spun and stretched his leg into a neat high kick. Following him came a woman, also wearing a carved deer mask, who nudged him with her face—like a deer—to run carefully. On the high edges of the stage walls, Seu-li and the other teenagers perched, preening their “wings”.

The Koteran were a ritualistic people and this sequence of plays came from ritual. They categorized plays as Animal, Man, and God and always ran them in that order. Animal had emerged as a way to honor their food and the creatures they shared the world with: while still implicitly putting them at the bottom of the hierarchy by running those plays first, the furthest from God. For people like the Ry’ke soldier I’d talked to earlier, the animal plays were fun because of all the acrobatics.

The fawn and his mother danced together as fast flute music with occasional drum and manjeera percussion played in the background. She lifted and spun him like a ballet dancer; he pushed off her to do a rolling, spinning move in the air.

With an eerie rattling and increasing drums, another man skulked onstage wearing a lion mask. The “birds” above reacted; twitching, peering down, trying to figure out what was happening.

The fawn and his mother continued dancing together as the lion prowled around. In the background, the drums and the susurrating rattle kept increasing, building tension as I leaned forward, eyes glued to the stage.

Then the lion sprang.

He jumped from feet away onto the fawn. The fawn’s mother, as a dancer, held the fawn’s dancer up so he could support himself as the lion gripped ferally onto him. The birds, simultaneously, all jumped, swinging on ropes to mimic flying as chaotic cuíca played like panicked chirps in the background. The person next to me gasped, pressing her hands to her mouth.

The fawn broke free, limping with a torn leg to behind his mother. Then it was time for the lion and the mother deer’s faceoff. The deer stood in front of her child, leaping in front of the lion whenever it tried to get around her and get through.

But I already knew how this ended. The lion jumped on the deer, fighting her on the ground and taking a ‘bite’ out of her side as bells rang and the dancer collapsed to the ground. Then, he finished off the fawn.

The birds leapt away and over the stage walls, creating a cacophony of colors as they left.

The crowd shouted and applauded. I was shaken, but got myself together quickly enough to clap for the talent of the dancers.

Half a minute was spent setting up the stage for the next play. A table and cabinet with a vase on it were set out, and a false wall with a window rolled in. Also set out were two cushions, which Kit-na, as actor, came out and reclined on. Jayla came out next, wearing a white kerchief over her ears, an apron over a Koteran patterned shirt and skirt, and whistling to herself, walking with a cheery bearing.

“Is that an Asan?” someone next to me whispered.

“Must be one of those half-breeds. Wouldn’t put it past a Koteran to mate with one.”

“Shh!”

I stepped forward to get a better view, “accidentally” stepping on the second speaker’s foot in the process.

Onstage, Jayla ran a rag over the dust on top of the cabinet. She then stuck it in her belt and opened the cabinet door. Taking out some caramels, she carefully counted them, and then her eyes went wide.

“Dad?”

“Y-Yes?” Kit-na said guiltily.

“Why’s one of my caramels missing? I bought twelve, and I’ve eaten two, but there are only nine.”

“Are you sure you didn’t eat three?”

“I’m sure, look!” Jayla pulled down her collar to reveal twelve caramels drawn under her collarbone, two with lines drawn through them. “I’ve been keeping careful track!”

The person next to me laughed in startled joy.

“If you ate one of my caramels, Dad, I’ll never forgive you.”

“I didn’t! It must’ve been a robber who broke in.”

“A robber,” Jayla said, unimpressed.

“I swear to you. You don’t believe me?”

“No, I don’t. I’m not going to speak to you anymore!” She flounced off through a backstage door.

Kit-na, alone on stage, started pacing, biting at his nails. An idea seemed to come to him—he looked around surreptitiously, then went offstage and came back with a black cloak in hand. As he started putting it on, I laughed despite having seen it before. The play really wasn’t complicated but it was funny, and Kit-na as the father kept glancing over at the caramel cabinet like he desperately wanted a second one throughout the whole scene.

Just then, there was a commotion at the entrance to the west square. I looked over and saw the promised group of soldiers coming in.

Some were cheerful, some were arguing, and all were at least slightly drunk. Eri-le took their money and found them spots in the crowd.

One of them, annoyed, said “Get us spots nearer the front!”

Eri-le lowered her head and did, moving aside a few non-soldiers who didn’t protest when they saw the uniforms and ornamentation.

Kit-na kept acting onstage, ignoring the noise. He finished putting the black robe on, then left through the door onstage that represented his own front door; locking it behind him.

To get back through, he banged on it several times and then ‘picked’ the lock, taking a key out of his pocket partway through and winking at the audience. Then he tiptoed across the floor of his house, purposefully stepping on a loose floorboard; a musician in the back used a creak box to make it loudly announce his presence.

Jayla, dressed in nightclothes, peeked her head out the door. “No way? A real robber…”

Her voice faded out, losing its emotion, as she saw the soldiers in the crowd.