Read Online The Silences of Home by Caitlin Sweet - Free Book Online
Authors: Caitlin Sweet
Ads: Link
together, before Gwinent and the rains. He was looking down at a lynanyn, peeling it in one unbroken, winding strip. She felt weak with relief as she watched him: he was here, he looked the same as he always had.
“Nellyn,” she called at last, wanting to see his face, and when he lifted his head she saw that he was not the same.
He smiled at her as she swam to the bank. “Lanara,” he said when she was sitting beside him, wringing out her tunic. She dropped the folds of cloth and stared at him. “What is it?” he asked.
“My name,” she said. “I’ve never heard a shonyn pronounce it.”
“Lanara,” he repeated, drawing out each syllable. “Do I say it well? Did I?”
She smiled. “You did, yes.” He held out a dripping piece of lynanyn to her. She took it from his fingers, which were warm and dry and steady. “How are you?” she said, her eyes slipping away from his. “How were the rains, after your . . . experience with Gwinent?”
“Gwinent. So that is his name. I am well, now. I was perhaps a bit mad at first, and my sleeping companions were afraid for me. But now I am well. I stayed alone in an empty hut just there. I needed this loneliness.” He picked three seeds from the lynanyn and put them in his mouth. “You still stare at me.”
“Yes,” Lanara said, her own piece of fruit forgotten and slowly staining her palm. “It’s just that you’re so different. And you speak almost perfectly, as if you’ve always used our words for time. I’m amazed that you’re so calm, I suppose.”
He shook his head. “Not calm—but I thank you for this thought. And my speaking is smooth because I always heard these words as a small one. A child. They were in my mind all this time, without understanding—but now I understand, and they are ready. It is strange, yes. I wish to tell my teacher Soral.”
“I could write to him,” Lanara said. “I’m sure he’d be very proud.”
Nellyn nodded. He threw a seed into the water and it disappeared immediately beneath. The rings that bloomed after it widened to the shore. “And you,” he said, “how were your rains? And Gwinent’s?”
Lanara cleared her throat. “Gwinent is gone. He left while you were still unconscious, and he didn’t come back. Which was a good thing. The rains were difficult, but I wouldn’t have wanted his company after what he did to you.”
Nellyn smiled again. She thought suddenly that he seemed drunk, or younger, or not shonyn. “Tell me about your difficult rains,” he said.
She ate the piece of lynanyn before she answered. The stain on her palm was crescent-shaped. She traced it lightly with a finger. “I thought I was lonely here before this. That seems silly now. Each day of rain was a bit harder, a bit emptier. At first the sound of it on my tent was soothing, but very quickly it grated on me. There was no quiet and no escape and no one to talk to or laugh about it with.” She sighed. “I was so excited when Queen Galha told me I’d be alone here. Such responsibility! Such a perfect way to prove myself to her! But I’d have begged her for companions, those last few days. Even Cannin.”
“But not Gwinent.”
She glanced sidelong at him. “No,” she said. “No, not him. But since you’ve mentioned him again, and since you’re obviously quite comfortable with talking now, tell me why you ran at him that day. And don’t tell me it was only the rains.”
He did not answer for a very long time.
The old Nellyn
, she thought. She wished she had her parchment and writing stick and hoped she would remember if he told her something useful.
“It was only the rains,” he finally said, very solemnly.
My Queen, you will notice that there are several days not accounted for in this batch of correspondence. This is because the fabled shonyn rains kept me secluded in my tent, with no one—not even the children—to speak to. Without such contact I found I had little of any importance to relate to you.
“Nellyn,” she called at last, wanting to see his face, and when he lifted his head she saw that he was not the same.
He smiled at her as she swam to the bank. “Lanara,” he said when she was sitting beside him, wringing out her tunic. She dropped the folds of cloth and stared at him. “What is it?” he asked.
“My name,” she said. “I’ve never heard a shonyn pronounce it.”
“Lanara,” he repeated, drawing out each syllable. “Do I say it well? Did I?”
She smiled. “You did, yes.” He held out a dripping piece of lynanyn to her. She took it from his fingers, which were warm and dry and steady. “How are you?” she said, her eyes slipping away from his. “How were the rains, after your . . . experience with Gwinent?”
“Gwinent. So that is his name. I am well, now. I was perhaps a bit mad at first, and my sleeping companions were afraid for me. But now I am well. I stayed alone in an empty hut just there. I needed this loneliness.” He picked three seeds from the lynanyn and put them in his mouth. “You still stare at me.”
“Yes,” Lanara said, her own piece of fruit forgotten and slowly staining her palm. “It’s just that you’re so different. And you speak almost perfectly, as if you’ve always used our words for time. I’m amazed that you’re so calm, I suppose.”
He shook his head. “Not calm—but I thank you for this thought. And my speaking is smooth because I always heard these words as a small one. A child. They were in my mind all this time, without understanding—but now I understand, and they are ready. It is strange, yes. I wish to tell my teacher Soral.”
“I could write to him,” Lanara said. “I’m sure he’d be very proud.”
Nellyn nodded. He threw a seed into the water and it disappeared immediately beneath. The rings that bloomed after it widened to the shore. “And you,” he said, “how were your rains? And Gwinent’s?”
Lanara cleared her throat. “Gwinent is gone. He left while you were still unconscious, and he didn’t come back. Which was a good thing. The rains were difficult, but I wouldn’t have wanted his company after what he did to you.”
Nellyn smiled again. She thought suddenly that he seemed drunk, or younger, or not shonyn. “Tell me about your difficult rains,” he said.
She ate the piece of lynanyn before she answered. The stain on her palm was crescent-shaped. She traced it lightly with a finger. “I thought I was lonely here before this. That seems silly now. Each day of rain was a bit harder, a bit emptier. At first the sound of it on my tent was soothing, but very quickly it grated on me. There was no quiet and no escape and no one to talk to or laugh about it with.” She sighed. “I was so excited when Queen Galha told me I’d be alone here. Such responsibility! Such a perfect way to prove myself to her! But I’d have begged her for companions, those last few days. Even Cannin.”
“But not Gwinent.”
She glanced sidelong at him. “No,” she said. “No, not him. But since you’ve mentioned him again, and since you’re obviously quite comfortable with talking now, tell me why you ran at him that day. And don’t tell me it was only the rains.”
He did not answer for a very long time.
The old Nellyn
, she thought. She wished she had her parchment and writing stick and hoped she would remember if he told her something useful.
“It was only the rains,” he finally said, very solemnly.
My Queen, you will notice that there are several days not accounted for in this batch of correspondence. This is because the fabled shonyn rains kept me secluded in my tent, with no one—not even the children—to speak to. Without such contact I found I had little of any importance to relate to you.
Similar Books
