Figurehead

twenty-four

We don't enter Huistef's city itself. There is no point in doing so. Instead, we move through the paths connecting the fields of Ronseluf's  and Huistef's extended farms crossing the borders. Here, too, the city is growing. There are many evacuees from Kalsemir living in Huistef, too, although these are living in dwellings, not under temporary coverings in the streets. I haven't seen my family in a long, long time. I miss them, sometimes. I flick a glance at the distant outline of buildings packed together in the distance as we pass. My old home.

Fik and Jast are no longer jumpy, fortunately. It is very quiet out here, although the occasional wind carries with it the sound of voices and laughter as the farmhands move throughout the fields, greeting each other and making conversation. These crops are delicate ones, needing to be carefully tended to if they are to grow properly. Considering very few plants can grow during Dre, they are cultivated in mass quantities; and each bud must be paid careful attention to each day. Fussy plants.

I wonder how my family is doing. After all, there is only so much you can say in a letter. They are all physically alright, although I wonder sometimes if my afa really is as he claims to be. It is far easier to omit things when they are not spoken, only written. And what is my sister doing, anyway? I don't know, not really. There have been only vague suggestions of what she is training to become. She's 17 now, somewhat familiar with Med. Or so he claims. Will she become a messenger as well? Or a farmhand, or farmer, or stable hand, or tutor, walking in the shadow of our parents? What will she do? It is something she does not mention.

I wonder if my parents are provided for. Overall, this empire is in poverty. I am able to buy the bare minimum of food and clothing for myself. Most are able to, and that is all we can afford. Water is drawn from wells- or lakes or streams, and if so, purified- for free in all provinces, and furniture easily traded. Pottery can be crafted in any home; but then, there are still potters for that. Still. What are my parents doing for their living? Are they still teaching? Do they talk at all, or are they silent towards each other still?

So much goes unsaid.

Tui rides a short distance ahead of me, and I nudge Jast so she quickens her pace, enough to fall into step beside the other trusted messenger.

"What are you thinking?" I ask her randomly.

She raises her eyebrows briefly. "I'm wondering what Deritri will be like. I have only ever seen it from far, far away."

"Oh, that's right, you sent word from Dein's afa near Eska," I recall. I furrow my eyebrows. "You didn't pass through Ronseluf?"

She shakes her head. "I was in Huistef already, and when I went to Anshakim, I crossed only through the outskirts."

I nod. "What is Eska like?" I have seen the lake, of course. All of Huistef's northern border is Eska's lakeshore. But I have not seen the area unmarked on the map, between the two empires on the west of the lake.

She furrows her eyebrows in thought. "Well," she begins slowly, "the area is very large, and quite dry. The land is not very fertile." She tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "It's a huge expanse of land, really, and there are dwellings scattered across it, a bit nomadic in style."

"You mean like the old dwellings, like that little shelter on the stable roof back there?" I ask, glancing back. Far far behind us is Liet's farm, somewhere. It is sometime between first light and half-day now. We left at first light. Here near the feet of the hills, the light is present all day- dimly- but extremely dark at night, the outskirts of the provinces shadowed by the hills.

She nods. "Yeah, like that, but much bigger. More sturdy as well, since there are some sandstorms. Part of it is somewhat like desert land."

"Oh, right, because it's so inland," I nod understandingly. "But I hear it's beautiful."