Of Dreams and Intrigue

Chapter 3 - The open door

Uravath skipped through the merchant square, making his way through the Rekuae Quarter. He noticed idly that he seemed to blend in better with his new clothes and wondered whether the mercer was right. He never heard the full story of what happened to his father, but he knew that his death had been rather controversial at the time, and that he and his mother had soon been evicted from their home soon after. He was too young to remember, but apparently, they had been a more respectable part of society before.
       He reached the small bungalow that he and his mother had been living in. It was the courtesy of one of his father’s old acquaintances who let them live there in return for his mother helping with the upkeep of his larger dwelling. He was a kindly old man and used to spend time with Uravath going over some of his books and talking about the newfangled inventions that seemed to be all the rage.
       But that was before he had died, and his son had taken over his estate a few years back. He doubted that the family even remembered the arrangement, let alone honour it, had they known, and he was glad that they appeared to have forgotten all about it, at least for the time.
       He felt invisible as he walked through the quarters, just as busy as the Harbourside in its own way, yet somehow more sedate. It was the people he supposed, somehow more judgmental and self-centred, overall more unfriendly, at least to him.
       He left a bland smile on his face as he approached home, his smile tightening as he noticed the door was left ajar. The only people who had access to their house were him and his mother, unless…
       Uravath moved carefully through the door, taking in the orderly living area and freshly making food set ready to fire them to eat. It was a better meal than they had right to in their circumstances, but a chance encounter with an otherworldly spirit by his father had left them this gift even after his death. Uravath never met the spirit who helped around their dwelling, but his mother once told him that she had seen the faceless creature helping around.
          Uravath made a note to try to get some fish to repay the spirit the next day and wondered if it was the spirit who had left the door open as a message. But what was he meant to find?
        It was with a growing disquiet that he entered the inner room. It was dark, and the lights were turned off, and he would not have noticed the fallen form had it not moved. He jumped, fumbling with the lamps to turn up the lights, hardly noticing that he put too much oil, making it flare as it lit up. The package with the present for his mother dropped to the floor with a deceptively loud thump. He jumped as the figure raised a hand to block her eyes, and he had to hold back a gasp.
          His mother lay upon the floor, having missed the bed, her arms covered with welts, which she tried to cover when she noticed that he saw but failed, lacking the energy. He approached her timidly, gently brushing away the cover, seeing the welts for the first time. It was clear that not all of them were new.
         Her eyes showed signs that she had been crying, but she put on a brave face and smiled, trying to distract him. “Uravath, you are home early today.” She tried to sit up, but he gently let her down. “How were things in the Harbour today? Did you see any new ships.”
Uravath shook his head in disbelief.          
          “How long, mother?”
           She tried to equivocate, to pretend that she did not know, but he did not relent. Finally, she sighed before gesturing to the small box where they kept their things. “Second bottle, yellow lid.”
           He went and found it lifting the lid, the familiar sharp smell of the ointment confirming its medicinal nature. There were several empty bottles there that confirmed his suspicions that it had not been the first time, and he wondered how he had not noticed it. He helped her up on the bed and put on the ointment, feeling aghast that he had not noticed it before. His mother understood his self recriminating silence. “It is not your fault, you know.” She offered.
        “But I should have noticed it sooner,” he said, his sharp gestures belying his anger.
         “There was nothing you could do. Can do.”
          There was a moment of shared silence before his mother took the bottle from him gently and let him help her up. She let him put the ointment away, and he brought her a tumbler of water. She took a sip before she started conversationally. “You shouldn’t blame them. It was the grandfather who had known. My pride is what left us in this circumstance.  Do not blame the younger generation. They either do not know or do not remember.”
        “Or they don’t find it important.” Uravath muttered viciously under his breath. It has been two years now since the old man passed away, but he still remembered his kind words and enthusiasm as he listened.
          “They don’t need to. Whatever debt had been incurred had been fulfilled many times over.” She looked musing. “Maybe we should move on.”
          “Where could we, mother? We are just the lowest of the low in the face of society; at least here we have a roof,” Uravath said, shaking his head despondently.
            His mother gripped his hands tightly at this, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Never think that! I’ve failed you if I let you think of yourself. You have many things ahead of you, my golden boy, and even if you have to leave me, you will go towards them. Promise me  that, my son,” she shook his hand gently when he automatically shook his head in negation. “Promise me this, so I’ll at least have hope.”
            Uravath shook his head, but his mother only repeated her request before starting to cry again. He let her lean into his shoulder, softly stroking her hair. He once soft locks of his earliest memories now coarse with poor care. He felt old as he sat with his mother, trying to comfort her as she had him, telling her of the strange offer he got from the foreign captain, and his dreams of sailing away with her. As she quieted, he asked thoughtfully.
             “What would happen if we did leave? Would …. you know...?”
              She had calmed down by now and took him in her arms and embraced him before softly brushing a lock behind his ear. “You are a good boy. But you know that when you leave it would have to be without me.”
              “But- but- I can’t leave you alone! Who will look out for you? What if you become ill? What if they kick you out?  What if they take our citizenship? What if - ,” she forestalled him by a soft laugh.
              “Goodness, is that what you fear? If we are to have a roof, they cannot take it away from us. Status is just a name, easily given and taken away, and hardly worth what it is given. As long as we do our best, it hardly matters. Besides,” she said more softly. “It won’t matter so long as you won’t be there when it happens.”
          He felt a growing dread and decided that he would do everything within his power to find his mother a good place before looking for a way to follow her wishes.