Witness

18 - Towards the Front

Grandmother Zosime sat cross-legged on a worn red rug, a shawl of bright blue loose around her. She wore her hair in a long braid that curled around her shoulders like an albino python. The wrinkles of a smile arranged themselves across her face, already as lined as the skin of a dried date, when we sat down. "Ioudas says you came from Seisa." Even reedy with age, her voice carried strength in every syllable. "You must have fought long and hard there."

I looked down at the scars across my knuckles from the endless street fights that came before the war. "We did, but they demolished our districts into dust."

Zosime pulled out a long clay pipe. "We heard about the bombing. Typical of them." She shook her head slightly. "We are lucky we have not suffered the same. I suppose once we push the garrisons out, they will turn that attention on us. Still, it is wiser to take things one step at a time and worry only about things you can change."

I handed my package of tobacco to Zosime. Even if it was a precious commodity to me, I wanted to give this woman a gift, a thanks for taking us in with such easy trust.

She smiled at me and took a large pinch, bringing it to her nose and inhaling the scent. "You have good taste. Thank you. We share and share alike here. You'll fit right in."

I felt a small glow of warmth in my chest at that pronouncement. "What is the situation here, Grandmother?" Zosime insisted we call her by the familial word rather than a more formal greeting. She wasn't a woman who stood on ceremony and knew how to make people comfortable.

"They are attacking the northern villages. Several have burned. Our militias have stopped them from crossing the Silver Branch and are gathering for a counterattack. You would be welcome to join them. The fight could always use a few more dedicated souls."

Thaïs nodded. "We know how to use rifles and a few other things. I'm sure we could help."

"This is good." Zosime considered something as she tamped the tobacco down into her pipe with a touch of care. "I should explain our way for you. Things here are...fluid. The elders help settle quarrels and give advice, but the young have run most of the fighting. Always, we talk and listen. No one is above anyone else."

"But someone has to be in charge," Thaïs murmured.

The old woman laughed. "I tell you what to plant, when, and where. How to compost, how to harvest, how to tend to the soil. I carry the voice of the village to the other villages when we need to. Achim tells how to build. Bailos knows how to tend to animals. Enyo teaches everything there is to know of weaving and everyone knows Xene is the best at cooking. Rhea commands when a medic or a midwife is needed. On and on I could go. Everyone has the knowledge of something and that is when their voice needs to be lifted. This is how things follow. This is how Zelen has always been. This makes it different from the men with iron hands who crush the life out of the people."

"The barricades in Seisa were the same way, everyone in it together." I remembered deferring to Sostrate often, but also to the others who were more experienced or skilled than I was. Meliton knew how to construct the best barricades. Isidoros had been a fine medic and knew how best to handle someone with pepper spray in their eyes. "That sounds good to me."

Zosime smiled and puffed on her pipe. "What about you, Thaïs?"

Thaïs shrugged. "I don't understand it, but I'll listen. Maybe it'll be clearer in time."

"A fair answer. Not all of us are the radical sort. People come to the valley looking for a better chance at a better life." Zosime's tone grew firmer. "I will say this: there are Iéro families in the valley. Some have lived here for generations, others are new arrivals fleeing the war. They are not to be treated any differently than Lathraí. Everyone who lives in the valley are our people. Once a person's tears and sweat strike the soil, they are part of Zelen forever."