The Orphan of Woe

I trudged on the makeshift path to the farm. Valrissa was on the open fire, her ladle out of the pot and pointed at her husband. Waving it at him, as he sat dejectedly on the dirt, leaning against the wall.

“You're a fool. A complete and utter fool. You don’t even think to tell me! Do you have any sense, where were you when the grace forbid, was handing out shame!?” The old woman's voice was shrill, her hair matted, and her nostrils scrunched into a frown. She turned to face me, the wrinkled lines on her face becoming apparent and deeper yet. She glared at me before looking at the boy, curled into a fetal position on the woven bed. His face in his knees.

“Yacob.” Her frown was severe as she stared back at me. “Sit.” I sat on the stool opposite to her, the open fire deepening my discomfort in the sun.

I cleared my throat, and put the basket of fruits on the ground. “Just wanted to speak to the boy. Ask him some questions.” She scoffed. “And I brought some fruits, pears and apples.”

She scoffed; “The boy has a name.” Her eyes were glaring and I tried to smile and nod, but it came out as a grimace.

“Well, Valrissa. I just wanted to ask Viran some questions. won’t take too long.” I looked at the boy, who was peeking out of the corner of his eyes, from behind his knees. He was barely there, his eyes sluggish and hooded.

She sighed, “I suppose you do, don’t you?” She put the ladle back into the pot. Her shrill voice was soft, losing its temper as she spoke. “Viran, he’s a sweet boy. Be gentle, Yacob. Gentle. Poor soul, crying silently. Losing a father, hard on the boy.”

She rose from her stool, in aching motions and ushered for me to sit on the woven bed.

I rose and followed her closer, the boy was still not responding. Her voice was still soft and gentle as she spoke. “Viran, darling. Yacob would like to speak with you. You know Yacob, don’t you?”

The boy barely nodded, his face still hidden in his knees. She turned to me and glared. I nodded, attempting another smile. Her nose scrunched further. She gave the boy a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, “And I will be right over here if you need anything.”

She went back to her pot while Sarath looked on forward, at nothing. I was sure she would whip him with a ladle if he spoke. Wouldn’t be a grand sight.

I sat next to the boy on the woven rope bed. “Afternoon Viran, I’m Yacob.” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “You’ve uh, gotten older.” The boy barely moved his head.

17 summers past but he was grieving, losing a father would be hard at any age.

“Going to need to ask you some questions. Simple questions, you should try to answer them. We can speak now or later?”

The boy nodded, his head coming out from below his knees, as he stared at the stragglers passing by on the path, some distance away.

His hair was pitch black, his eyes brown and his face a set of sharp angles. All drawn severely, even as he sniffled and sat dejectedly. The boy looked nothing like Alarien.

We waited in silence, in the gentle breeze, underneath the sun. We watched the carts and travelers go by, as if it was the most intriguing thing in the world.

Viran broke the strange state of silence, his voice rasping but soft. “Ok.”

He still hadn’t faced me. “What day did you find him?”

“Yesterday.” I waited for more but nothing came.

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I spoke again: “What time?”

Viran seemed to think for a moment, his eyes focusing on the world in front of him. “It was evening.” The boy’s voice was sharp, even as he spoke softly

I resisted the urge to grimace. “That’s very helpful, Viran. Just a few more questions.” My voice was tinged with my annoyance.

“What did you find, was there anything unusual that evening?”

“Sword. The sword.” The boy paused, seeming to think or gaze off into the distance. “Just the sword.”

“Was there anyone that Alarien had a spat with recently, anyone that would want to hurt him, anyone acting unusual?”

The boy nodded his head, facing me. “Always. But they never can.” The boy seemed to smile, a sad thing, as a few tears rolled down his cheeks. His next word was a whisper in the wind “Never.”

His eyes were red, so very red. I blinked.

He turned away to face the open fields again. This was getting me nowhere.

“What about entrances to the mansion?”

“Oh…it’s a library. We have one entrance.”

My face twisted: “Are you sure?” The boy nodded. Alarien would never keep just a single exit. Too old to be that foolish.

“Did you see a crow?” I reached out, putting my hand on his shoulder. I ushered him to face me as Valrissa began to glare from her stirring.

The boy was silent and I spoke again. “That evening, did you catch any sight or sound of a crow or anything that you would think sounded like a crow?”

His temples were furrowed in focus: “..I..uh..no. Not that evening. I saw no crow.” Why keep watch over a dead body, why was the crow there? I needed to know when he died.

“This is important. Look at me. When did you last see him?”

“Yesterday night. I went to bed, he was eating. I left in the morning…” I ushered for him to go on but the boy wilted in his own silence. His eyes glazed over once more.

I spoke as clearly as I could:“And you found him dead yesterday evening, but you saw him last the night before?”

The boy nodded. I stroked my chin, seen living on the 5th day of Ash at night, dead on the noon of the 6th and I came at midnight.

“What did you do after you found him?”

“I-uh..I didn’t know. I didn’t know what to do. I just left. And I walked. I walked. I sat, Sarath found me.” Viran’s explanation was as confused and disjointed and his eyes moved back and forth furtively in their sockets. “I just…left”.

The boy curled back up into a fetal position, his head once more hidden behind his knees. “That was all for now, Viran. In peace.”

I rose, watching Valrissa give Sarath a pot of stew. The open fire had burnt out.

I sat next to Sarath on the ground, and the old man, all skin and bones stared at me as he sipped the soup hesitantly. He cleared his throat as he noticed me watching and spoke. “It’s hot, Yacob. Hot.”

I nodded. “Some questions for you Sarath, just a few.”

“Go on then. Speak your mind, speak it.” His voice always seemed to be a pace ahead than most.

“Where did you find Viran?”

“Was walking, before the rain you see. Before the rain. Wasn’t going to rain, didn’t look it. Just a few leagues, got closer, closer you see. Wasn’t going to go to the town. Dark, pitch black. Saw the boy, huddled in the mud and cold. Viran, he’s a good boy, he is. A little bit of temper, keep a watch on him from time to time as a favor. Said he was dead, Yacob, and by the grace of the divine, I didn’t think to be true, he was a man of war. Man blessed by grace-” Sarath began to cough, putting down his soup, and rasping for voice before he continued.

“Yacob, has he left us?”

I gave the old man a nod, “Alarien is no longer with us. Thank you Sarath.” I would have to go hire an herbalist and a priest, they should be able to give me more information.

I rose and began to walk before remembering and faced Valrissa and Sarath.

“Don’t mention this yet. We wouldn’t want a panic. We’ll mention it on the morrow. Stay here for tonight. Keep Viran with you, the council can decide what to make of him.”

Valrissa scoffed: “Your basket.”

“It was a gift, not many would have come at the din of night. Braver than most. But next time, try not to walk in the rain and cold Sarath. Bad for your health.”

Valrissa immediately turned on her husband.“ And the fool didn’t have the shame, the shame to tell me. A walk in the din of night, then a walk up the hills, this stupid fool.” Her face turned to a rictus of anger once more, as I waved at them, leaving the two to their own devices, while Viran watched, his bloodshot eyes peeking from behind his knees.