An Island for a Cloud

7.1 On Orvat with a Plan

Leivrat

Jori sat looking at the jolly crowd that filled Old Yak's den, yet his thoughts were grim and distant. He had never gotten into trouble with the Aleutan guards until tonight. The cursed Captain himself had to stroll into the den, with his shining sword and all the bravado. How was Jori to know that the little brats were of such high importance up there in Aleuta?

Jori wanted to kill Odan. Odan was one of those fellow Orvats in Leivrat, whom everyone knew by name, but not the story behind it. The man liked keeping to himself. Jori liked keeping to himself, too. He did not ask questions, unless he had to. Odan offered Jori to take up his post at the den for the night, while he himself had business elsewhere.

Suspicion crept into Jori's thoughts. Had it been a trap? Jori shook his head. Every Orvat he met since his arrival in Leivrat had been corrupted by the Veilys way of life. They stole from each other, tricked each other out of well-paid employment; they lied and they deceived. Yet, one rule remained unshaken - an Orvat would never choose a Veilys over their own kind. That is the only truth Jori still knew for sure.

No matter how long Jori mulled over it, the conclusion was the same - it must have been his own bad fortune.

Jori had been poor all his life and always dreamt of wealth and respect it commanded. Same dream brought many Orvats to Leivrat and the city's cobblestoned streets remember all those who tried and failed. But Jori was not like others. The Creators be thanked, he was blessed with persistence and endurance. And he was a man with a plan.

He got matched early. His wife - albite a good woman but not a very smart one - did not share his ambition. A woman decided when to have a child, never the man. The Creators willed it so and gave the women the power of choice. Yet, no objections on Jori's part made his wife want to wait with having children for ten years. Or five at least. Before they both turned two-and-twenty, there was a third additional mouth on the way. Staying in Rarrah Gigidi for a man with a dream meant to stay poor.

One fine morning eight years ago, he left for Leivrat. An Orvat could do odd jobs in the old city of Veilys that paid better. He slept in a tiny chamber that had only a sack filled with straw and enough space for him to stretch out. He shared it with mold and rats. He did not complain, it was still better than sleeping on the street as he had done in his first year.

Often, he went days without any sleep. He scrubbed kitchen floors and washed dishes; he cleaned eagles' cages in the Aleutan guard's barracks; he sold goods at the Leivratan market and cleaned bird's shit off of Veilys' homes. He built new houses and he demolished old ones. He carried wood from the forest and he carried stones from the mountain. He kept to himself, spoke little, offered his prayed to the Creators on all the right occasions, and that had kept him away from any trouble.

For eight years, during the prime time in any Orvat's life, he ate only once or twice a day; often those were someone else's leftovers. He did not complain about that either, believing firmly that the day would come when he would eat and drink whatever he wished. He counted again in his mind how much he had saved in the last eight years, surviving on the minimum and sending back to his family a minimal amount to survive, too. Adding to the count the coin he got from the Aleutan brats this night, he felt better. It was nothing to them, of course, but below the mountain one could enjoy sweet life for a while with it. But he was a careful man and not someone who tempted his luck.

Perhaps it was time to leave, as his wife begged him to do. The children had grown, and the eldest son was a few days away from his first Soul Tying. His wife sent notes telling him to be there. Yet one job came and then another, which meant more coin in his bag, so he stayed. And now it was too late to make it on time.