Prosatio Silban and the Boundary Crossers

PROSATIO SILBAN HAD TO LOOK twice before he realized what he was seeing. Why is this Xao woman, he asked himself, dressed as an Uulian?

It was a fair question. The Xao were almost the oldest original residents of the Exilic Lands, whose mythology had prepared them to regard (some would say worship) the late-arrived Uulians as prophesied saviors – who would restore to pristineness their oblivion-shattered realms before sailing back across the Rimless Sea. Although the “saviors” did transform the landscape as foretold, centuries passed without their fulfilling the latter prediction; as a result, some of the indigenes lost faith in their people’s teachings.

Others had found ways to cope. Including, it seemed, by assimilation.

She was also one of the few people browsing Daywalk’s ordinarily thriving marketplace.

The beefy cook caught the woman’s eye as she passed his galleywagon. Her muscular bronze form was garbed in a simple earth-toned shift appropriate to the Uulian laboring class, and she bore on her left thumb the plain silver ring denoting an Uulian marriage. She was also one of the few people browsing Daywalk’s ordinarily thriving marketplace. Seeing Prosatio Silban’s smile, she returned one of her own.

“With what may I please you?” Prosatio Silban asked.

“Nothing, thanks,” she said in a thick Xao accent. “Shopping for family’s evening meal, and cannot afford to buy anything already prepared.”

“Let it be my treat,” he told her. “I get so few Xao customers that it would be my true privilege to serve you. How does a hash of red-rind and oal sound to your ears?”

Her smile broadened. “Would be lovely. Name is Tiglat, but married name is Gustio Tiglat.”

“And I am Prosatio Silban, the Cook For Any Price. I shall return in a moment.”

She sat down at one of the two tables-and-chairs, and set down a half-filled marketing-basket as the cook skipped up the galleywagon steps and inside. Some minutes later, he reappeared, bearing a tray on which was balanced a fragrant and steaming plate of colorful food. He placed the tray before her with an apologetic flourish.

“I am not as well-versed in your people’s cuisine as I would like to be,” Prosatio Silban said. “This village borders the Emerald Incessance, your ancient homeland, so acquiring ingredients is not a difficulty. The challenge lies in preparing them according to your tradition. I have had to make certain adaptations.”

She reached for a fork, hesitated, then scooped up a lump of the hash with her left hand and popped it in her mouth. The cook did not expect her reaction.

“Ulthar sarkomand,” she said after swallowing, and began to weep.

“My good woman!” Prosatio Silban exclaimed. “Whatever is the matter?”

“No matter,” Tiglat replied, wiping away her tears. She rolled her thumb-ring with the fingers of her right hand, studying the cook’s face. Something in her expression seemed to unlock, and when she next spoke, it was with careful decisiveness.

“In addition to Xao, the Emerald Incessance is also home to a number of Uulians. Through a combination of circumstances, was injured and separated from other Xao. Nursed back to health by an Uulian game-trapper. Circumstances recombined, and when recovered, out of gratitude agreed to become wife. This delicious Xao meal” – she lifted her chin at the plate – “brought back memories from long years. Thanks much for kindness.”

“You are welcome,” Prosatio Silban said. “It is my pleasure to serve and learn about you.”

She considered the plate, then the cook, and her eye-corners crinkled. “Would like to meet family?”

* * *

Two adolescent boys played in the front yard; they ran to greet their mother as she and Prosatio Silban approached.

Like most dwellings in Daywalk – so-called by the village’s distance from epicurean Pormaris – Tiglat’s home was modest: one-storied, thatch-roofed, with an adjoining vegetable garden and goat corral. Two adolescent boys played in the front yard; they ran to greet their mother as she and Prosatio Silban approached.

“Mother! Mother!” cried the older.

“Ib sarnath mnar!” shouted the younger.

The two soundly hugged their parent, and regarded Prosatio Silban with bashful apprehension. The cook smiled down at them.

“This is a new friend,” Tiglat said. “Met in the marketplace. Prosatio Silban, the eldest is B’aran, and the younger, Limni.”

“H’lo,” said B’aran, fidgeting a bit.

“Skai kraa,” said Limni with a curt nod, his eyes locked on Prosatio Silban’s.

“I am very pleased to meet you both,” said the cook-errant.

“Who are you?” asked B’aran.

“I am a cook,” Prosatio Silban said, and the older boy’s face became animated.

“That’s what I want to be when I grow up,” he said with proud emphasis. “Do you live in Pormaris, where all the best cooks are?”

“Sometimes. I travel around the Commonwell, and serve hungry people wherever I go.”

“I wish I could do that,” B’aran said. “I will, too, when I get old enough. Meanwhile, I do our family’s cooking – well, when Mother helps, anyway. I’m going to be the very best cook in the whole Commonwell!”

“Not me,” Limni said with emphatic pride. “Want to live in Ululuk, hunt and fish for food, herd oal through the bladegrass thickets, and go through the Ordeal of Three Suns.”

“‘Ululuk?’” the cook asked. “‘Ordeal?’”

“Ululuk is Xao name for the Emerald Incessance,” answered Tiglat. “The Ordeal is the Xao coming-of-age ceremony. Bring back to the clan a live oal after three days wandering alone through Ululuk – with no weapon.”

“Everybody knows that,” Limni said with naked condescension.

Prosatio Silban cast a curious glance at Tiglat, who blushed.

Prosatio Silban cast a curious glance at Tiglat, who blushed. “Raising boys in both traditions: teach and share holidays, language, customs, and stories. But the older favors Uulian heritage, and the younger prefers Xao. Want to make own decisions when old enough.”

“Already decided!” shouted Limni.

“Me too!” B’aran added. “I am an Uulian!”

“Good lad!” boomed a boisterous bass from behind. “I know you are.”

Prosatio Silban turned. A short, stocky man clad in green tunic and brown fez and kneebreeches was leering at him. “You’re the traveling cook from the marketplace, are you not? Por … Porsattio Something, right?”

“Prosatio Silban,” the cook replied. “And you are …?”

“Gustio Araz is the name,” the man said, and proffered an open palm. “I am a trapper by trade, and the proud father of these two boys. Well, one of them anyway …” His leer grew wider, and Tiglat and her sons contemplated the beaten earth beneath their sandaled feet.

The two men shook hands, and Prosatio Silban surreptitiously wiped his on his grey kneebreeches. “A trapper, eh?” he said. “I suppose that must be profitable, even at this season.”

“Yes,” Gustio Araz said. “You never know what you’ll catch. Ain’t that right, my love?”

There was an uneasy pause.

“Please excuse,” Tiglat said finally, and with obvious discomfort. “Must begin meal. B’aran, can help.”

“Thank you, Mother!” the older son said, beaming. “I’ll gather some vegetables.”

“That will make it a civilized meal,” the trapper said with a wink. “Not like what the savages eat, right?”

His wife closed her eyes for a moment, and then opened them.

His wife closed her eyes for a moment, and then opened them. “Have repeated and repeated this – not before the children,” she said, facing her husband. “And not about Xao.”

“Why not? I was only playing the joker.”

“Can’t always tell – and neither can the boys.”

Gustio Araz fixed his trademark leer on Prosatio Silban. “As a fellow Uulian, don’t you think a man can make a joke or two in his own front yard?”

The cook reddened. “It is not my place,” he said, “to take sides between a husband and a wife.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over the group, broken after a long moment by Limni’s little-boy quavering.

“Hurting mnar’s feelings again,” he said, taking her hand. “Don’t. It’s not nice.”

“The word is ‘mother,’ little one,” scolded his father. “In this family, you’ll speak like an Uulian, and say ‘me’ and ‘my’ and ‘you’ and ‘yours’ – or speak not at all!”

“Kadatheron lathi!” the younger boy shouted, and stomped into the house. Shooting a dark glance at his father, B’aran joined him.

Another tense silence.

Prosatio Silban cleared his throat.

“Thank you for the kind invitation, Mistress Tiglat, but I believe I must be tending my galleywagon,” he said. “I am glad to have made your family’s acquaintance, and you may patronize my portable business whenever I visit Daywalk. G’night.”

* * *

Next afternoon, as Prosatio Silban was clearing away what passed for the lunch rush, he was surprised to see Gustio Araz approach, hollow-eyed and pale.

“Master Cook,” the trapper mumbled. “May I speak with you?”

“Master Cook,” the trapper mumbled. “May I speak with you?”

Prosatio Silban set down the damp towel with which he was wiping his tables-and-chairs. “Certainly,” he said. “Please – take your ease at my table.”

Gustio Araz sat. “She left me,” he said in a small voice.

Prosatio Silban sat down across from him. “What do you mean?”

“I awoke this morning – to this note.” The trapper unfolded a piece of rag-paper and began to read in a shaking voice.

“‘Once-dearest husband. Many thanks again for Ululuk-kindness, but can no longer endure constant disrespect. Once a Xao, always a Xao. Limni too. Be consoled with B’aran. Look after with kindness. (signed) Tiglat.” He heaved a great sigh, and the paper fell from his hands.

“I am so sorry,” Prosatio Silban said, not knowing what else to say. “What does B’aran think of all this?”

Gustio Araz frowned, and shook open a second piece of rag-paper. “Father. You have driven away my mother and closest only brother by being so rude and mean all the time, so I am going to Pormaris to ‘prentice myself to a cook. Please – don’t follow me. (signed) B’aran.”

The ensuing sad silence was accented by the trapper’s rapid and shallow breathing. “I wanted everything,” he whispered. “And now, I have nothing. Only this.”

He lifted a fist, then opened it. In his palm lay a silver Uulian marriage-ring.

“Only this,” Gustio Araz repeated, and closed his eyes. “Only … this.”

(If you’re new to these tales, here are the preface and introduction. And if you want another 85 stories in one easy-to-read package, here’s the e-book!)