Chapter 2: Wary
My attempt at remaining discrete was ruined almost immediately. Of course I had expected this, but it was still disappointing. The moment I stepped into the town square people were turning to look at me, then turning back to their fellows, probably to whisper amongst themselves. When Hirath sees me, he practically sprints in my direction.
“Gwen!” He shouts, and if I hadn’t already caught the attention of every person in town that would have guaranteed it.
“Hirath,” I say back, voice muffled by my scarf.
He beams back at me, the happy look ruined by his eyes. Like I said, Wary folk have empty eyes, and no amount of smiling can cover that up. Still, Hirath always smiles when he sees me, and so I feel forced to acknowledge him.
Despite being a few years older than me, he acts like he’s five years my junior. He plays around with the younger kids, laughs at practically anything, and doesn’t seem to worry. It’s strange, because Hirath is one of the Wary folks with a good reason to be upset at the world. And yet, he’s like this. I always leave conversations with him with guilt chewing up my stomach.
There’s a reason we are the only young people in town on a market day. Everyone able is out fishing. It’s only the elders and the young kids who stay behind. Hirath used to be one of the fisherman, until four years ago when an accident left him without a right arm. I’ve heard his leg is mangled as well, though he always wears long pants and I’ve never asked to see it. It seems inappropriate.
Then there’s me. Healthy. Young. Able. Yet, somehow I’ve still ended up a burden. I’ve never been out on a boat, never learned the skills to help even if my father suddenly changed his mind and started taking me with him.
I can see it in every look Wary folk give me. I can feel the questions hanging in the air, never voiced but always there. I don’t have answers. The only one who does isn’t about to talk about it either. If my father doesn’t tell me why I’m not allowed out, he’s certainly not going to gossip about it in Wary.
“Got my nets?” Hirath asks, walking beside me as I head deeper into the market. Most of the space around the edges is taken up by others, wares laid out on pieces of ragged burlap. I note which I should return to on the way back out.
“Yep,” I say, having finally found an empty spot. I set the basket down and begin sorting through the nets. Hirath’s are near the bottom, the distinct green thread woven into the rope marking it as the Minir Family’s. I hand them over.
“How much?” He asks, a question I always dread. The work itself is worth maybe five coppers a net. Good quality, but nothing special. However, since repairing their last nets Hirath and his grandmother have given me food six times and brought me medicine once. I need to weigh this against the charge. I will not be in debt to anyone.
“Four copper,” I finally say.
“Each?” Hirath asks, and I can hear the hesitancy in his voice. I know he’s trying to give me an out, but I won’t submit. I won’t let anyone hold even a bread crust over my head if I can help it.
“Total,” I say.
He hands over five copper, and I decide not to argue. I’ll take it out of next month’s expenses.
I begin to set up the nets, easily laid out so people can see which ones are theirs. After a moment, I realize Hirath is still standing beside me. Ah. An extra copper for some small talk. Not the worst deal.
“How are your siblings?” I offer up. I know he’s the youngest of four, though I’ve only met the others in passing. Just enough to learn their names. From the way Hirath brightens even more, the questions seems to have been the right choice.
“Viktor and Tyran,” he begins, naming his two older brothers, “are out with Da’ on the Rue today. They’ve been thinking about taking a multi-day trip out there, try to get some deep sea fishing in. Delia though? She’s actually headed up to the Ishtar.”
I’m so stunned I actually jerk around to face Hirath, nets in my hands forgotten for a moment. The Rue? That’s nothing. That’s fished every day by every person in every fishing village along it’s coast. Ishtar though? That is a sea few people even get the opportunity to venture to.
“Yep,” Hirath says, grinning even more at my shocked face. “She got invited onto one of those whaler boats that stopped by last week. She’ll be gone for about six months.”
I whistle. “Damn, good for her. It’s a dangerous job, but rewarding.”
“She’s the best of us, so I’m not too worried.” Hirath laughs, a tight laugh that ends quickly.
I can see how his remaining hand clenches, and I wonder if he’s thinking about where he could’ve been, where he might have been invited to, if not for the accident. It’s making me wonder the same. What could we have been, if not for the things life decide to throw at us.
A shout echoes across the market. We both look up, and see Hirath’s grandmother waving at him. She’s seated beside two other elders, all relaxed and laughing. As soon as she catches Hirath’s gaze, she shouts again, a wordless burst of sound, beckoning him over.
“Duty calls!” Hirath says. “Talk to you next week?”
“As always,” I say, smiling a bit behind my scarf. Despite what I know to be true about Wary folk, Hirath still manages to cheer me up when I see him.
I watch as he walks off, his grandmother reaching up to pinch his cheek when he gets close. Want burns in my chest, warring with the jealousy that always seems to sit there. Maybe this is why I hate Wary folk eyes so much. I never seem to see the same emotions I feel constantly reflected back at me. Every time I come into Wary, I always leave feeling more alone.
