The Exiles

4. Amaroot Cream

After the children had enjoyed their slice of cake and licked their fingers clean of the amaroot cream, Rita and Ursa passed steaming mugs of cocoa and they all settled back on the mismatched floor cushions with a satisfying lull. Granny rocked back and forth on her chair, looking into faraway worlds no one could see in the dying fire. Attin braved the icy blast of the night outside to grab an armful of firewood to last them the night. Ursa fetched the basket of patchwork blankets and draped them over the younger children, who settled around Mama. Mawsie and Vanylla laid their heads upon her lap on either side, Mawsie taking the space before their mother more so than the side. Nessa cuddled up to Mama the way she'd done before, resting her head on her arm; Rita rubbing the dear child's back to soothe her coughs.

As Attin fed two logs into the furnace, Mawsie, jittery on sweet cream, bounced back up as if he'd remembered something. "Granny, and then what happened to the Ferry boy?"

"Mawsie, it's almost bedtime. No more stories," his mother said, ruffling his hair, though it was not the only reason for her to say no.

"But Mama, we always wait up for Amer to return, and we always hear a story while we wait." Vanylla frowned.

"Yeah, and Amer hasn't come back yet!" Mawsie stifled a yawn, dropping back down into Mama's lap. "I'm not even tired yet."

"You all look tired to me." Rita glanced around the room as one by one they all stifled a yawn.

"Only till Amer gets here, mama!" Vanylla and Mawsie begged. From Rita's side, even Nessie tugged at her arm, "Please, ma" — cough — "ma!"

"Oh, all right. Granny will have to make it a quick one. I'm afraid you'll all fall asleep before she's done otherwise."

"No, we won't!" Mawsie grinned.

The other children too turned their heads to their grandmother, none noticing the lick of moisture Rita swiped from her eyes as she wrapped Nessa into her arm and kissed the top of the girl's head.

Granny rocked on. "So where was I, little Mawsie?"

"He was a boy who neither lived, nor died!" Vanylla blurted, often one to remember the details Mawsie couldn't.

"And he fought demons and monsters in battles, and won!" Mawsie bounced, grin as wide as it would go, eyes twinkling.

Granny cocked a brow up. "I don't believe I said anything about demons and monsters."

Mawsie grinned sheepishly. "Then what did he fight?"

Granny's gravelly laugh caused the air in the cottage to dance. "It's not a who but a what, dear Mawsie. Maan the Ferry Boy fought something you and I cannot see."

Bewildered eyes stared up at the old woman, all except Ursa's. Her brows knitted in half-formed memories. "He fought pain...?" she blurted, not meaning to even speak.

Vanylla stared at her older sister. "But how can anyone fight pain, unless it's with potion and concoctions the village apothecary makes?"

Ursa turned to their Granny with a look that said, "Well, does he, Granny? Does he use concoctions?"

"Maan fought the pain, the only way he knew how. He was a weaver, remember? The best our world had ever seen, and perhaps never see again..." Granny sipped her cocoa and smacked her lips, settling back into her chair. She twirled her hand about and images—dancing like glittery dust—above their heads, formed again. A young boy about as old as Attin. He held someone's hand. Another figure, smaller. Perhaps a child.

"Who's that?" Mawsie pointed, earning him a groan from Vanylla.

Granny leaned a little closer, as if trying to figure out who the smaller image next to Maan belonged to. After a moment, she said, "Ah, that was Maan's younger brother. The child for whom he created the Land of Peace. The child suffered a lot of pain, or so the story goes. Maan tried to save him from it, but when he couldn't, he, the most powerful weaver who's ever lived, and perhaps shall ever live, wove a world where there is no pain. Can you imagine that, little Mawsie?" Granny turned, eyeing him warmly as he slurped his cocoa. "A world with no pain—" her eyes darted to Nessa for a moment before settling back on the dazzling figures. "Maan created this world, and legend says he took suffering children there so they may never feel pain again, just like his brother. A land where there is no pain. No death."