They refilled the village.
Few carried baskets of sugarcane, because there were only so many harvesting when Joseph arrived. The building that acted as the mill stood along the innermost edge of the patch. Those women with their baskets bounced and giggled toward the building. The large entrance faced away from the river and stood open along the path where Joseph and Tamara walked. This path was wide and ran straight up through the middle of the village.
The mill wasn't the first structure. Since those women had run past, they had beat Joseph and Tamara there, but Joseph meant to take his time. He wasn't able to keep up with how many days had come and gone since he last walked this named land. Though there was a confrontation to
prepare for, he slowed his stride, taking in the detail of the shack to his right.
When the edge of the sugarcane curved away from the river and started to run upstream, it met the second establishment built by the villagers. Sitting two feet above the ground, supported by stones piled at the four corners, this was the tool shed. A narrow porch wrapped around the entire
building. Wooden steps were constructed at the center of the section facing the main path. The entrance was aligned with them.
As Joseph and Tamara passed by, an old man stepped out from the darkened interior. He carried a staff in both hands. On his side rested a satchel with a strap laced around his waist. There was a cloth sash protruding from underneath the top flap. The other end was tied near the bottom of the staff. A thin piece of leather spiraled all the way up to the top. Like the sash, the leather had been dyed a dark red.
Stopping to share a glance with Joseph, the old man nodded, and then hurried down the steps. He dashed down river, leaving the village. Joseph looked ahead, grinning.
Coming upon the mill, he didn't have to look inside to know the women were already hard at work. At the very top of the thatched roof was a smaller square-shaped structure. Portions of its walls were opened in all four directions, letting the sweet-smelling smoke escape from inside.
He heard them chattering among one another. Not ceasing his pace, he used those few seconds to gauge their tone. He knew he wouldn't be able to understand their words. Even if all he got were syllables and rhythms, he still marveled that this barrier between he and them could still be side-stepped. Though, he also marveled at the sounds he was able to
receive. Names were one thing, but mostly everything else he always attributed to the whimsy of poetry.
But words weren't always important. It was the feelings evoked from the sounds.
His arrival had excited them, yet how long did they have to look upon the tower without him here? Chantale only showed him what he could stomach. And it was his heartache that stopped him from asking what he was about to ask Tamara.
"So," he began, and she snapped her head in his direction, "did she allow him to cross the river?"
She must have expected him to say something else, because she had turned a smile his way. Realizing who he was referring to, her smile vanished. Looking at the ground, she forced the sadness down and leveled her gaze ahead.
Some of the women rushed across the path in front of them, leaving the structures that acted as sleeping quarters on the left to enter the wider structures on the right. They carried with them bundles of fabrics, many colors, multiple patterns.
In the split second each of them were aligned with Joseph,
one after the other, they tossed a single piece of fabric upon the ground.
Joseph paused, watching them enter the wide structure. He knew what they were about to do with the bundles they carried. The old man who just left wouldn't be alone for long.
Turning his attention forward, he studied the number of pieces on the ground. None of them were touching. Noting this, he counted the different shades of red, the different shades of purple. There were more reds than purples.
"He not cross it." Tamara finally answered.
Looking her way, Joseph asked, "What? Then how…?"
"It was a storm." she said.
Joseph nodded at the wide structure still beside them, "I'm seeing the colors, the shapes." He then nodded at the ones in front of him, "They show me nothing of a storm."
"Day can not show you da storm," Tamara shook her head, "Only I saw it."
Joseph looked at her again.
"Dat is," Tamara added, "I and Chantale."
Another woman ran across the path. She was a distance
beyond the pieces on the ground. In her arms was another bundle. Joseph studied them. He saw no shades of gray. No lines of white among darker colors. Most of what she carried were solid hues. Yet, just as he saw in the arms of the women
before, there were few symbols. He couldn't make them out in the seconds it took her to hurry across the path. And she did so without tossing a piece out for him to see. He'd have to wait until the actual meeting later.
Tamara started walking again, signaling to him the vision was over. He looked down at his feet, remembering he wasn't wearing any shoes. Then he straightened his back and gazed ahead. Walking to catch up to Tamara, he stepped upon each cloth. They had landed on the ground in an almost perfect line.
As soon as his heel came up, the cloth he stepped upon came up with it. When that foot left the ground, the cloth stuck to his skin. Lingering there but a second, the cloth slipped up his ankle and disappeared underneath his pants. Each step grabbed every piece of cloth laid before him. In succession, they rushed up his legs, emerging from the waistline of his pants, and found a random spot on his torso. Once in place, the cloths sunk into him, forming random shapes in his skin. Whatever color, whatever pattern had been on those pieces were now like tattoos upon his body.
"Why couldn't they see the storm?" he asked.
"Day mourning da gate." Tamara answered.
He huffed, "Eliska. She…"
"Chantale show you." Tamara said.
Trying to rip the memory out of his mind, Joseph answered, "Right there at the gate. Once it was lowered," he considered the colors now attached to him, "anger at first, but then sudden shock."
"But no advance." Tamara said. "He only want access."
"You mean that was all he needed." Joseph said.
"Yes and no." Tamara offered.
"Then there was a panic." Joseph said, according to another color.
"Storm happen same time as rumble." Tamara said.
"A rumble?" Joseph asked.
"Gate rumble." Tamara said. "Also mountain. Hide dah storm."
"Everyone was facing the mountain." Joseph said.
"But I see dah storm." Tamara said. "Heard it in dah rumble. Look up. Saw it start dare. Den form a tornado. Struck down where tower be now."
"But wait," Joseph said, "Eliska…where…?"
"He and Eliska disappear in rumble." Tamara answered.
"Disappeared?" Joseph asked, "But…are they not inside
the tower?"
Tamara shrugged. "Don't know."
Even Chantale wasn't sure if Eliska was trapped inside the tower, Joseph recalled, "She has to be. If the gate is gone…"
"You tink you would see her dare even now?" Tamara asked. "Sitting where gate was? In mourning?"
"Because it was mostly hers." Joseph said. He extended his arm to point over the roofs of the structures along the right side of the path. Indicating the tower, he finished, "That replaces her gate. She'd be tied to it."
Their conversation paused when they noticed the old man ahead. He was facing them, so when he saw that they noticed him, he started forward. Joseph readied himself as Tamara spoke.
"Ah. You speak of arrangement. Dah named land shuffle it elements accordin' to wills involved. Notting outta place."
They were about to meet the old man. From the way he stared ahead, unblinking, never meeting either one of their gazes, he made to pass right between them. Joseph knew what the man's expression meant. He also knew why the old man was wearing a green scarf. In light of his regular attire,
the scarf was bulky, thick enough to sit upon both shoulders. Tall enough to hide his mouth and touch the bottom of his nose.
Then there was the length that trailed off to the side. It hung down and ruffled against the back of his right arm. The end of it extended a few inches below his middle finger.
A good sign, Joseph thought.
"Ya will," Tamara continued, "and Eliska agree: dat establish gate. Now invasion. Some ground taken."
"But…" Joseph said right as the man was about to pass
between he and Tamara, "…what of the river?" He reached out when he was shoulder-to-shoulder with the old man, grabbing the extended length of the scarf. The old man kept walking, leaving the two of them behind. The scarf's material stretched between both parties. Joseph noted the texture as the material ran through his loose grip.
He tensed.
The end of the scarf left his fingers, and he lowered his hand. Behind him, the old man kept walking. Joseph's shoulders sagged.
"True." Tamara said, "River strong. Only you pass before. Invite us to pass after."
"And the gifts," Joseph began, but Tamara continued.
"You strengthen by making dem mark. Fortify river."
"But after the fact." Joseph sighed.
"Would have been enough against invasion," Tamara said, "but gate was opened."
Again, Eliska's doing, Joseph thought, his shoulders wanting to sag further, but he remembered the colors upon his back and stomach, so he straightened his posture.
She looked up at him, "New land needs name."
Sharing her gaze, he said, "It has a name."
"But has not been declared." She added.
Turning away with a scoff, he said, "But it can't now."
"No." Tamara agreed. "Must break stronghold. Only den."
"Which is why…" Joseph began, and came to a stop. He and Tamara had reached the edge of the village. Looking down at his toes, the change was barely visible – which he was thankful for – but he could see the line along the ground. This path through the village was established by the dirt worn down by foot traffic. So on this side of the line, the dirt was
packed tight. On the other side, a similar path continued upriver, but the dirt was soft like sand.
There hadn't been a whole lot of foot traffic along that path. It had been established upon an agreement.
Glancing to the left and right, he noted the corners of those buildings, knowing their walls facing upriver were almost perfectly aligned with the boundary indicated at his feet.
Tamara arched an eyebrow at him, "You not backtrack because gate tainted?"
"It's not that." Joseph said. "The help I want isn't one of ours."
Both her eyebrows went up as her jaw dropped. "Recall any named land! None from dose? You understand dare words. Not like here. Dis new! Why not pull from lineage?"
Lifting his gaze over the roofs of the buildings along the river, he targeted the tower, "Because of what Chantale said."
Tamara took a step toward him. Scowling, she asked, "What she say?"
Joseph lowered his gaze and turned enough to look back at the village. There were already women leaving those structures along the river. Turning down the path, they hurried in pairs or small groups, heading down river. All of them were now wearing clothing made up of the bundles of cloths they carried across the path earlier.
Where they were dressed in aprons and dresses having their hair covered with shawls, now some of them wore sarongs and other forms of skirts around their waists. Their tops were wrapped at lengths that revealed their midriffs and bear shoulders. Shawls of different shades of red covered their hair this time. The deeper the red, the calmer they were.
"Calarapan is heading down the lineage." He said.
"How she know?" Tamara asked.
"You both saw the storm." Joseph answered, "but she received a message."
"When? From who?" Tamara asked.
"Apparently from someone in the lineage." Joseph answered. "And at some point after everything settled. A banner floated to her."
Tamara narrowed her eyes, "But not from da gate."
Joseph shook his head, "No. One here was sent a vision. Not knowing what the pattern meant, they cast it upon the air. It came to Chantale, and she read it."
Tamara gazed down the path, watching the women running down river. "I never notice."
"Calarapan is trying to best the stronger members of the lineage." Joseph said. "So, I don't want to pull from them." He looked up at the tower, "What I want to do is break that stronghold. When I do, Calarapan will have to fight on two fronts."
Tamara turned her wide eyes upon him. After a moment, he shared her gaze. She grinned, her eyes still wide.
"And once mark grows," she said, "river cut him off."
"That all depends on how long he stays away." Joseph said.
She took a step toward him, "I wait for vision!"
Joseph tilted his head slightly, "By the gate?"
She shrank back a little, pointing a scowl at the ground. Then she let out a sigh and looked up toward the dip on top of the
mountain. "I can withstand it."
He laid a hand on her shoulder, drawing her attention, "We're all hurt by what Eliska did. Hopefully, when all this is settled, we'll learn why she was so easily tricked."
"You mean bought off." Tamara scoffed.
Joseph had tried to wear a brave grin for her, but that comment bested his defenses. "Whatever the case," he said and turned his gaze away from the village. They both looked toward the neighboring land upriver. "I need to cross this boundary." Looking down at his torso, he continued, "These colors will help my cause, but I need something from you."
She took a step back and turned her head away from him, scowling with a grin, "I not give back shirt."
Smiling at her gesture, he said, "I'm surprised you didn't take my pants."
She tried to keep her scowl, but couldn't. Still, she wouldn't look at him. Even when she asked, "You not have my shirt." She almost whispered her response.
He snickered and took a step forward, closing the gap between them again. Reaching for her, he said nothing. She held her breath,keeping her head turned. Her eyelids fluttered when his hand slipped before her face. He cupped her cheek and coaxed her head in his direction. When she was looking at him again, he moved his hand upward, slipping his fingers underneath the bandana that covered her hair. She uttered a silent gasp when his thumb caught the edge of the fabric. He tugged the bandana upwards, loosening it from her head. Her dark brown hair bushed out like feathers. Unlike Eliska and Chantale, her hair was short and swept back, not falling past the nape of her neck.
With the bandana in his hand, Joseph brought it to his mouth, giving it a kiss.
Tamara gasped louder this time, no longer hiding her growing smile.
Returning her smile, Joseph stuffed the bandana in his right front pocket. The plastic bottle with the gift inside was still kept there, but Joseph allowed a portion of Tamara's bandana to spill out.
"That aught to do it." He said, winking at her and then turning to face the path upriver. "I won't be gone long. Even if I don't
find the help I'm looking for, I'll be back in time for the meeting."
"We look for you." Tamara said.
Acknowledging her response, Joseph stepped over the line in the dirt. His foot landed safely on the other side. There had been no resistance, but he could already feel the difference against the bottom of his foot.
Taking another step, he breathed in different air.