Chad Gadya

Clay Is Your Best Friend

"Who chooses to live near a monster?" I asked at Marzipan's proclamation.

My mother shrugged. "Maybe this Rowan is on good terms with it."

I shuddered. "I hope not."

"He won't be," Alexandros said briskly. "Come on."

I wasn't sure how they knew, but I didn't argue. Kuni was silent as we walked the final mile. Alexandros gave him a piggy back ride and I leaned onto my mother for support. The snowball fight had left me feeling shaky and weak and I was pretty sure I'd missed a doctor's visit. Why couldn't demons be more respectful of medical conditions?

Rowan's house was a small, wooden cabin. Marzipan was twitching with excitement as we neared it, her fur standing up and her ears flicking back and forth. She bounded the last few steps to the house and knocked on it with one hoof.

Kuni slid off Alexandros' back. We waited in the cold for a couple minutes, but there was no indication that anyone heard us. The only sound was our breaths and the whistling of the winds. "I'll try," my mother finally said, stepping forward.

As she lifted one hand to knock, the door swung open. The man who had opened the door narrowed his eyes and said something in Russian. Alexandros stepped forward and spoke something in return. The man snorted and appraised us. "And who?" he asked in English, "are you?"

I was about ready to demand hospitality, but Kuni stepped forward and inclined his head. "We are wandering Jews on a quest," he said. "We were told to speak with you, Rowan."

Rowan's thin lips turned downwards. "How do you know my name?"

"Joseph told us to speak with you," Kuni answered.

***

Rowan's cabin was warm and cozy. It was a one-room cabin, but the room was large. A bed carved from wood lay in one corner beside a bookshelf crammed full with books. I saw Kuni gaze at them, his brown eyes twinkling in excitement. The mattress was made of caribou hides and a many-colored quilt draped over the bed.

The floor was wooden, but a thick rug decorated the space beside the fireplace. It seemed that Rowan had no electricity and I saw him cooking with a kettle and an iron stove. "Sit down," Rowan said, gesturing for us to sit down at his wooden table.

As he hustled around, boiling some water and rummaging through his cabinet, I looked around at the cabin. The walls were covered with weapons. There were swords, spears, hooks, bows and arrows, slingshots, and weapons I'd never seen or heard of before. Rowan displayed them like some people display hunting trophies. What appeasers to be a forge, larger than the stove, lay in one corner, opposite of the bed.

I was warmed up and even decided to unbutton my coat when Rowan set mugs before us and a plate of cheese blintzes. He gave Marzipan a couple carrots. We thanked him and quickly ate them up. After finishing, I studied Rowan. He had dark hair and a bushy beard. He wore clothes like a lumberjack save for the quilted kipa he wore on his head. "So," he said. "You've heard from Joseph?"

A lump rose in my throat and I met Kuni's gaze. It was my mother who spoke. "I'm sorry to inform you, but Joseph is dead."

     Rowen blinked and then suddenly sat down. A look of pure sorrow blighted his features and he wrung at his beard. "Joesph . . He was a good man."

      He shuddered and we let him sit in his thoughts for awhile. It was kinda awkward watching a stranger cry because I didn't how to comfort him. It was Marzipan who licked his fingers and got him to look up. "How — how did he die?" Rowan asked.