Memories of Home - Part 4

“Enjoy yer’selves ladies!” Dean calls out, sending the three of them off to the barn under the waning moon. Marta leading in the front and Sammi pacing herself from behind, with Fiora between them.

They approach an old tree on their way to the barn, which Fiora points to. “Don’ use the swing, ye’re too big,” she says.

Sammi nods, and stops just before they pass the leafless tree. She follows the veiny seams between the bark from the top of the tree down to its roots. She traces her hand slowly across the tree, then turns her palm inwards and glides her thumb across her calloused fingers.

“C’mon Sammi!” Fiora calls out, and Sammi follows, releasing a deep sigh.

Once inside the barn, Marta grabs a large round wooden trough that’s propped up against the wall. She rolls it to the center of the barn, which Sammi helps with, then lowers it to the ground. “Follow me if you would,” Marta says to Sammi, leading her out the back of the barn. And just outside is a contraption of wood, metal and canvas that Sammi has never seen before. Marta grabs the end of a thick hose, and pulls it towards the barn as it unwinds itself. “Wait here, and crank that lever when I tell you!” She says to Sammi. Marta shouts ‘now’ and Sammi works the lever and the hose swells and water comes out the other end and fills the trough.

“Impressive!” Sammi remarks.

“Right? A Cloudsberg mechanic I met at the Crossroads installed it for me. Can you believe that? Coming from the other side of the continent! And all I had to do was make him and his whole family each a pair of shoes! Right, that’s enough. Come on back—” Marta says.

Sammi reenters, and Marta sorts through a clutter of tools and other items on a shelf, eventually finding a glass jar full of light purple salt and a thick dark sack. Then Marta puts on a glove and reaches into the sack she carried in and pulls out a few black steaming rocks and tosses them into the tub.

“Are those eternal embers?” Sammi asks with wide eyes.

“Eh, more like mock embers,” Marta explains, “they’re stones enchanted by a mage to retain heat. Only good for heating water, really.”

“Fascinating,” Sammi says, “in the desert we still heat our tea the old fashioned way.”

“Oh you think this is clever?” Marta says while throwing a handful of salt into the tub. “Those mages have figured out how to make stones rich in salt or other minerals hot. So people boil their tea with them to add flavour.”

“I’ll have to try it when I get there–” a faint snapping sends a cold wave up Sammi’s back, stiffening the hairs on her neck as she fixes her gaze on the forest.

Marta stirs the water, giving it a violet hue. “Alright,” she says, “you first smelly.”

“I’m not smelly!” Fiora whines.

Marta undresses Fiora then picks her up with an exaggerated grunt. She drops her in the tub, then she too undresses and gets in soon after. Marta turns to see Sammi standing in the entranceway, facing the shaded woods.

“It’s alright if you’ve changed your mind,” Marta says, “you can wait inside–”

Fiora pops up from under the water and puts her hands over the rim. “Come in Sammi, the water’s lovely!” She says. Then dives back down.

Sammi fixes back on the two. “Oh, right. Sorry,” She says, then methodically undoes her tunic. Marta looks over Sammi’s well defined muscles covered in faded scars, noting the history painted over her body. Sammi steps into the tub on the opposite side of Marta. The hot water soaks through her calloused skin, already she can feel her leg unclenching. She fully settles into the violet water, taking a deep breath to fill her lungs with the mystical aroma, and releases the air along with her worries.

Fiora cuddles up to Marta, throwing her arms over her mother’s shoulders and kisses her on the cheek. Marta embraces Fiora and returns the gesture. “You taste like a horse,” Marta says, making Fiora giggle.

“How do ya know wha’ horse tastes like?” Fiora asks. Marta laughs and splashes Fiora playfully, to which Fiora pushes herself away.

Sammi smiles gently. “You all make a wonderful family…” she says in a somber tone.

Fiora perks up. “Oh! Wha’s ya family like?” She asks. “I’ve never heard about families from the desert.”

“Ah, that’s…” Sammi forces a smile, “quite the question–”

Fiora’s eyes widen as she leans in closer to Sammi.

“Hmm–” Sammi continues, “mother left when I was very young, so I only knew my father, and–how do I say this…” Sammi rests her face on her index finger, scratching her chin while she searches for words that would not upset Fiora.

“Ever been to Khaled?” Marta asks. Sammi is thrown off by the sudden change in subject. “I always wanted to see it myself.”

Sammi’s expression brightens, and so does Marta’s. “I have,” Sammi replied, “what would you like to know?”

“Everything!” Marta answers, and Sammi obliges: They talk back and forth about Sammi’s home. The great city of Khaled, which is built along the longest river in the world. She also spoke of the forest of palms, and the cities there. Then the villages and nomads on the fringes. The bright sun and hot dunes that, under the calm cool moonlight and fresh evening wind, blow misty glittering sand clouds into the heavens.

“FIORA!” Dean’s voice calls out. “BEDTIME!”

“Noooooooooo!” Fiora cries.

“Dad’s right missy,” Marta says, “time for bed. Off you go now.”

“Let me hear one more story! Please!” Fiora protests. Before Sammi can speak, Marta picks up Fiora and sets her out of the tub.

“Nono, now get dressed and go to your father.” Marta says.

Fiora picks up her dress with a grumpy frown. “Goodnight miss Sammi…” She says.

“Goodnight, Miss Fiora. You were an absolutely lovely host.” Sammi says.

Fiora runs off.

“Well put yer dress on, silly girl!” Dean shouts in the distance.

As the bath water begins to cool, Marta turns and gives Sammi an intense look. “Alright then Miss,” Marta says, “My husband and daughter trust you, that means a lot to me, but I’ve got to ask you something.”

Sammi pulls her legs towards her chest and sits upright.

“You’re an awfully long way from home,” Marta continues, “and it’s strange, while desert folk do come through the Crossroads, they always travel along the main road as it’s quicker. And the way you’ve been acting, it’s like you're hiding or running away. So I must ask, as a mother, is anyone after you? Because if you bring anything here that could hurt my family–”

“No—“ Sammi interrupts, “well, I have no enemies: My tribe was wiped out. No one would have held a grudge.”

“Oh dear…” Marta says. “Bandits?”

“Not exactly. My people got in a fight with someone else, and we lost. Simple as that. Though it’s unfortunately not too uncommon now for villages on the fringe of the desert to be wiped out,” Sammi replies. “That's why I must get to Tyrmid: I believe my sister can help me bring peace back to my–everyone’s, home.”

“That’s terrible” Marta says in a whisper. “I’m sorry Sammi. truly.”

They sit in a silence only broken by the whistling breeze.

“If I may ask,” Sammi says, causing Marta’s head to perk up, “why are you all the way out here? You’ve gone to the academy in Tyrmid, so why not stay?”

“Ah, I suppose I owe you an answer since you’ve been so open with me,” Marta replies. “I was born wealthy, so I got to go to the academy. I went with others like me: rich, pompous aristocrats. And, well… I couldn’t stand them. The longer I spent there the more I realized how selfish and arrogant my peers and superiors are. Then after a nasty fight with my mother, a fellow scholar, I decided to pack up and never look back.”

“What was the fight about?”

Marta scoffs. “I had the gall to suggest that men should be allowed to enroll. Mother… vehemently disagreed.”

Sammi somberly shakes her head. “That’s terrible. Has Emily not given men more agency since she took the throne?”

Marta shrugs. “She has, and I have only respect for our Queen Emily and her daughters. It’s the hags around her that are the problem. Still stuck in their old ways, not ready to give their power and position to anyone else.”

They rest in more silence.

“I suppose my mother has rubbed off on me more than I thought. Sorry for being a git,” Marta finally says.

“‘Gits’ don’t invite strangers into their home and fix their shoes,” Sammi says. “You and your family have been incredibly gracious to me, whilst I have been vague and distant.”

“Hey, everyone is entitled to their secrets,” Marta says. She then looks at her wrinkled fingers and rubs them together. “Right then, I’m starting to get pruny. About time I got out. You can stay as long as you like.”

“No, I’ll follow,” Sammi says, “I should be on my way, and I’ve gotten all the grime out of my hair and… crevices, anyway.” A big laugh burst out from Marta, in a manner that reminded Sammi of Dean. She could see now why they are together.

As the two are getting dressed, Marta pauses. “Sammi,” she says, “it really doesn’t make sense for you to leave so soon. You should stay the night.”

Sammi releases a deep sigh. “I…” she clutches her tunic. “I should confess,” she says, “while I have no enemies, trouble tends to find me. It’s why I was so hesitant to even stay. It’s why I must–”

“Wander off into the woods on your lonesome?” Marta interrupts. “That’s certainly no way to treat a guest, or a friend. Take Philip’s room, we can handle any trouble.”

Still feeling her aching knee, Sammi drops her head slightly. “Oh, very well.”

“That’s the spirit!” Marta says.