Karen Lord - Redemption in Indigo

Bini's level gaze did seem to flicker at that point. ‘Has my lord forgotten the legacy inherited from his illustrious godfather?'

'N-o,’ Alton replied uncertainly.

'The excitement of the engagement has been too much for you. A little more rest?’ Bini suggested soothingly.

'Engagement! That memory is true and firm at least!’ He threw back the covers energetically, his face illuminated with joy, and came to his feet with a spring.

'My lord, do you have orders for me?’ Bini asked gently.

'Orders?'

'For the day's work, the week's operations, the month's pre-planning. Orders.'

Alton's spine lost some of its steely temper. ‘I??hat do I usually?'

'You usually have breakfast, freshen up, and dress, and then I tell you what new things require attention,’ Bini said kindly. There was a hint of a twinkle about his expression, which was very odd considering that his eyes appeared as dead as ever.

That was how Bini began to ease Alton into his new life. He lacked the puppeteer's power of his indigo counterpart, but he had something equally effective—that trickster knack, which was now turned to the benign task of fooling Alton into believing in himself. He mused at the irony; if he did his job well, Alton would never know how much he owed to chance. Illustrious godfather, indeed!

Paama was utterly confused.

They had landed on a hillside overlooking a town unknown to Paama, yet familiar enough in design and outlay that she felt she must be back in her own country, albeit in a province hours ahead of her own Makendha. Rather than murder or torture, the indigo lord's first action towards her was to hand over to her the entire sack of gold and order her to go down to the nearest town and buy for herself more suitable clothes, food, and other necessities.

She placed the coins into her bag beside the Stick, expecting that pickpockets might not find it so easily there, and set off down the road, leaving the djombi standing alone on the hill. Once in town, she found the hour too early for the shops to be open, but not too early for her to gain entry to a guest house. The bandit gold bought a spacious set of rooms with a balcony, a light meal of fruit, and, best of all, no questions. She bathed, ate, and finally, exhausted by travelling half the world in minutes, fell asleep. Remember, she had not slept since the night before.

She did not sleep well or long, for she did not know how long a time she would have before the djombi appeared again. As soon as she saw the first shutters opening, she flew down to the shops. First she bought strong sandals suitable for walking long distances, and then, remembering the snow, she also bought a pair of boots. Both sets of footwear looked ridiculous with her dress, so her next purchases were clothes for travelling, different suits for different climates. By then she was so tired that she returned to her room and fell asleep again.

Her dreams were troubled, filled with the anxieties of her recent experiences. She dreamed she was walking home to Makendha from a far country, and every time she came within sight of her house, the djombi appeared and whisked her back to the other side of the world with a flick of his fingers, forcing her to start the weary trek again and again. After the tenth repetition of this scene, she gave up in disgust and opened her eyes, feeling less rested than when she had first laid down her head.

She was sure she was still dreaming. There was the blue-skinned djombi on the other side of the room, sifting through her purchases with interest. To see an odd and inhuman being doing such an ordinary thing was so incongruous that she forgot to be afraid of him.

'So many things needed,’ he commented, knowing that she was awake without looking at her. ‘The sun scorches you, the rain drenches you, the rocks tear at your feet, and the wind scours your face. Who would be human?'

He gently threw aside a handful of clothing and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘I have figured it out. I cannot take the power of chaos from you, because in your secret heart you believe it is better entrusted to your hands than mine. I cannot blame you. I came to you in disguise, I tried to take it from you by violence, and you judged me by those deeds. I was wrong. I did foolish things because I feared the interference of those who unjustly stole my power. So, let us begin again.'

Paama sat up slowly, moving as cautiously as if facing a lion who had just declared his intention not to pounce, but to have a friendly chat instead.

'Put on your boots and gather your things together. We are leaving. They will be after us soon, but I want enough time to present my case to you fairly.'

'Where are we going?’ Paama asked with renewed anxiety in her voice.

'For now? Just a place,’ he replied indifferently. ‘Damp, slightly cold this time of year. We will not be there long. We must keep moving.'

Paama packed her new clothes into a neat bundle, all except for the boots and a grey woollen wrap. Those she put on, and, after leaving a few coins on the bed for the housekeeper, she stood nervously beside the indigo lord.

'What about you?’ she asked as she examined his linen tunic and blue skin with doubt.

'No-one will see me if I choose not to be seen,’ he said.

The feeling of moving from one space to another was almost pleasantly familiar by now. Paama watched his hand as he did it and wondered how it was accomplished. Then the sight of their destination drew away her attention once more. A light but persistent drizzle was falling when they arrived, giving a sense of overwhelming greyness to the land, sky, and everything in between. They were standing in the middle of a narrow, muddy street in a town. On either side, the buildings were fairly tall but irregular in their architecture and alignment. There was an uncanny quietness and a feeling of midafternoon in the featureless light.

'What is the name of this place?’ Paama asked, squinting against the raindrops and pulling the wrap over her head.

The indigo lord, who was managing to keep himself and his clothes dry with his usual effortless power, paused before replying. ‘Names are very important for humans, aren't they? How do I translate for you the name of this town as it seems to me, the true name that tells of its history and people and lands and weather and??verything? Names have some meaning to humans, but names are all meaning for us, and we cannot translate them in a way that you will understand.'

'Do you have a name I could understand?’ she asked and was surprised to hear the snappish irreverence in her tone.

It seemed to surprise him, too, but he rallied.

'No, I do not,’ he replied haughtily. ‘I will know when you are speaking to me, and you will have no reason to speak to anyone about me, so no name will be needed.'

'Then, O nameless one, tell me why you have brought me here.’ She was beginning to understand why she was speaking so carelessly; she was tired of being frightened and growing increasingly angry that he had kidnapped her and was keeping her from her home.

He looked even more morose than usual. ‘There is a plague in this town. That is why it is so quiet; this is a quarantined area. Only those who are dying remain here.'

Paama found fear again, and it silenced her. She barely heard him as he continued to explain.

'I want you to see why chaos is not a power that should be taken up lightly. You were proud of yourself that you saved a boy from drowning. Now see if you can help anyone here. Do you hear that sound?'

She strained and heard it. It was a man weeping loudly, certain there was no one to hear, his angry words mingling with wretched sobs. Almost absently, she began to walk in the direction of the sound until she came to a dark doorway with a door standing ajar. A stale, dank odour wafted out from the shadows into the fresher, rain-washed air of the street. It smelled as if someone inside had been sick and uncared-for for a long time.