Chapter 14

Steady Waves, Tangled Webs

The datu’s warrior had deposited Dalon in a small room about a quarter of the size of his family’s hut. There was a bamboo cot with a threadbare grey blanket but not much else. It seemed to be in the middle of the grand maze of the datu’s house, because there were no windows, and no light seeped through the woven walls. The distinct tang of metal emanated from between the bamboo slats on the floor, so Dalon surmised that the spot beneath him was a storage space for weapons or tools.

Throughout the day, he alternated between lucid dreams and dizzy wakefulness. In his dreams, he lived out Utaw’s most harrowing experiences. He begged pathetically on the streets of King Luyong’s city. He charged through the ferocious waves of the river in the wilderness. He risked suffocation in the compartment at the bottom of the boat. But when Dalon woke, he got little respite, weighed down as he was with guilt and regret.

All he’d wanted was a stupid, silly raft. He wanted to stop striding through the village on feet swollen and aching from a full day of working. He wanted one less reason to tally numbers and pinch beads. He wanted convenience, relief. Because, by the gods and ancestors, he was exhausted.

But Dalon’s hopes had been misplaced. There hadn’t even been any guarantee that a raft would give him any of the things he’d imagined. Knowing himself, he would have just found new ways to use the raft to work even longer, even harder. How ironic then to be on the precipice of a future where he would do nothing but work, not to fill up his savings jar, but to fill up a pit of debt.

Several times, a katalonan came in and fed him some broth and brewed herbs. Dalon took this as a good sign that Datu Hálgundî didn’t disdain him yet for offending one of the most important visiting merchants of Lurit. Although, perhaps he simply wanted Dalon to be more lucid during their next round of questioning. If so, it was working. The burning and roughness of his throat eased, and the coldness in his muscles subsided.

The next time someone came, it was the middle-aged warrior from the previous night. Dalon didn’t need any further instructions to know that it was time for him to meet with the datu again. He pushed aside the blanket and slowly stood up from the cot. There was the slightest wobble in his vision, but he didn’t have any trouble following the warrior as he led him down corridors. It must be night again by now, with the presence of candles, a few torches, and even glass jars of fireflies glittering in the rooms they passed.

Dalon’s heart thudded louder in his chest with every step. Was there any chance at all he could convince Merchant Tangad that the story wasn’t an insult? But was that even the real problem? Why had Datu Hálgundî focused so much on the eloquence amulet? If only Dalon could make sense of the real issue, perhaps he could still navigate his way out of this.

The warrior opened a room. Dalon was surprised it wasn’t the main hall in which the datu questioned him the night before. This one was about the size of his hut. It was richly appointed, with woven textiles of blue and green decorating the walls. A low table surrounded by plain cotton cushions occupied the middle of the floor.

Sitting on the side near the door was none other than Karí.

Dalon’s heart tumbled to the pit of his stomach. He barely managed to clear away the horror on his face as the guard told him to sit by the table and wait for the datu. The warrior stepped out of the room, shutting the door tight behind him, and only then did Dalon rush to Karí.

“I’m so sorry!” he said, dropping to his knees. “How did they find out you were involved?”

Karí frowned. “No, Dalon. I’m sorry my idea got you in trouble.” She looked toward the door, then admitted almost hesitantly, “And they didn’t find out about me. I came here to clear up the misunderstanding myself.”

“Oh, Karí.” Dalon’s limbs tingled with cold dread. “You shouldn’t have done that. I never told Datu Hálgundî anything about you. In fact, I told him I came up with that idea all on my own. It would be worse if you contradict that now. Look, there’s still time. You can tell them you made a mistake and leave.”

Karí cringed. “I can’t do that. I told the official who greeted me at the door that I have more information about the festival storytelling. She’s fetching the datu as we speak. It would only make me look even more suspicious if I back out now. I promise I won’t tell anything about that.” She pointed to the white pendant still hanging around Dalon’s neck.

“You don’t understand how much trouble I’m in, Karí. The rice merchant thinks I’ve insulted him. I’m on the verge of incurring an awful debt.”

“Yes, I know, and that’s why I’m here. I was careless in the way I imagined the characters, careless with the places I took inspiration from.” Karí’s voice was soft, and there was fear behind her eyes, but her posture was straight and determined. It was clear that this wasn’t easy for her, and it galled Dalon to think that after all the help she’d given him these past few months, this was how he would repay her.

“But I was the one who pressured you into finding an idea in time for the festival. If it had been up to you, we wouldn’t even have told the story at all while the caravan is here.” Energy from stress and desperation welled up inside Dalon, so much so that for a moment, his fever seemed to recede to the back of his awareness. “I’ll think of something to get myself out of trouble.”

Wasn’t that what he’d been doing his entire life, anyway? Swimming through hardship after hardship, finding ways to keep his chin above the water? It seemed unthinkable to him that a story was what would sink him into the abyss. Who would he be now if he couldn’t trust himself to take care of his own problems?

Dalon wouldn’t deny that there had been people who’d helped him throughout his life, but he’d paid them back for their trouble. Even his partnership with Karí was fair and balanced, something he’d ensured from the moment they’d formed it. What Karí was offering now was different. He could never match this in deed nor bead.

“Listen,” Karí placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned close. “Sometimes getting yourself out of trouble means reaching for the hand waiting to pull you out of it. Dalon, you’ve no idea how much it means to me that you’ve been telling my stories these past months, how much you've helped me by saying all the things I couldn’t. Now, let me do the same for you.”

The energy that had coursed through Dalon just a moment ago seeped out of him in the space of a breath, leaving him hollow and frightened.

But just beneath those feelings, there was also relief. Like releasing a lifeline he’d been painfully gripping for so long, only to find out there was a soft undercurrent towing him to shore all along.

Footsteps sounded from the hallway, and a moment later, the door opened. Datu Hálgundî strolled in, and Dalon bowed and placed his hands on his cheeks. Two sets of feet passed him by and settled on the other side of the table.

When the datu told them to rise, Dalon found that Merchant Tangad was there, too. Datu Hálgundî sat opposite Dalon and Karí, while Merchant Tangad stood a little off to the side. The datu was garbed in a humble but well-woven cotton tunic the colour of unripe mango and a matching loincloth. There were golden rings on his finger and one band around his wrist, but other than those, he remained unadorned. Merchant Tangad was brighter and shinier with his dark orange silk robe embroidered with red and yellow floral patterns.

Datu Hálgundî took a long moment observing Karí. “Well, I’m surprised to see you, Karí. It appears you have information regarding the story that Dalon told during the first night of the festival.”

Karí nodded, taking a deep breath. “I worked with Dalon on that story, my lord. As I understand it, the honourable merchant here found some of our ideas objectionable. Perhaps I can help clarify some misunderstandings.”

“Interesting.” Datu Hálgundî raised a brow. “I know for a fact that you and Merchant Tangad have met each other before, or at least seen each other in passing.”

“Yes, my lord,” Karí responded.

“Would that explain how Dalon described King Luyong as similar to the merchant, despite not having met him?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, but pressed on. “Quite possibly, my lord. I remember imagining King Luyong as wearing a beautifully embroidered indigo jacket, but I swear it wasn’t on purpose! I was just wondering how a regal man ought to dress, and that was the image that came to mind.”

Dalon glanced surreptitiously at the merchant, but he couldn’t tell whether the man believed Karí’s explanation or was even flattered by her comment.

“And at the point that I was imagining him and describing him to Dalon, we hadn’t come up with any of the new revelations. King Luyong was still exactly the same as he’d been in the original version of the story.”

“Ah yes, about those revelations. How did you two get the ideas for those?”

“I overheard a few young men talking about an eloquence amulet, and Dalon heard a little boy saying to his friends that he was his mother’s amulet, since he brought her good luck. We came together and combined—”

“Hold on for a moment,” Datu Hálgundî commanded, planting his palms on the table. “You overheard some men talking about an eloquence amulet? Dalon claimed to have come up with the idea himself.”

Karí gave Dalon a helpless look. He could only bite his lip, knowing they could do nothing but answer truthfully. “Yes, I overheard the idea. Dalon must be protecting me, because you see, my family doesn’t know that I was helping him craft this story.”

Datu Hálgundî turned to Dalon. “You know that lying to your datu is a punishable offence?”

Dalon could only bow his head and admit somberly, “Yes, my lord.”

But the datu swiftly shifted his attention back to Karí, leaning forward with eagerness. There really seemed to be something piquing his interest about an amulet that could make people talk better. “Who were these men who mentioned the eloquence amulet?”

“I-I don’t know, my lord,” Karí replied. “They were in the pavilion the day before the festival began. They were playing a game of shells, and one of them teased that the other ought to use an eloquence amulet.”

“Describe them to me.”

Karí gave basic descriptions of the men, but Dalon felt like they could pass for just about half of the men in Lurit. Still, the datu gave Merchant Tangad a meaningful glance, before sending a servant off to fetch the merchant’s own servants. The next time the door opened, three men walked in, heads bowed in reverence, shoulders hunched in anxious anticipation.

“That’s them!” Karí said.

Merchant Tangad stepped forward. “Which one specifically mentioned the amulet?”

Karí paled, possibly sensing that she was going to get someone else in trouble. Still, she pointed to the tallest one. “Him, sir.” She summarized the conversation she’d overheard, helped along by the datu’s probing questions.

The furtive glances each of the young men gave the others indicated they had an inkling of what was being discussed. Merchant Tangad gave an irritated huff. “Send them back. I will talk to them later.”

Silence blanketed the room after the three men were escorted away. Dalon’s muscles were taut with apprehension, but the datu in front of him seemed more relaxed now, somehow. Dalon still couldn’t make sense of why exactly this amulet seemed like such an important lynchpin to his own arrest.

“Well, it appears as if it is not my subjects who are at fault here,” Datu Hálgundî said, looking up at the merchant as he sat back down on his spot behind the table.

“No, it appears they are not,” Merchant Tangad admitted begrudgingly, though not without some grace. “However, without your subjects’ retelling of the tale, none of this would have been brought out to such a public extent. I will deal with my servants myself, and I suppose I must leave the punishment of your subjects to you. They did, after all, show some impertinence. That said, after the events that transpired, I’m afraid I have lost confidence in my ability to conduct business here. I’m sure you understand.”

“This will be your last caravan with us, then?” Datu Hálgundî asked. “What of my end of the deal?”

Dalon shot Karí a questioning glance at the same time she did, too. Was this deal related to the underpriced rice?

The merchant took his time answering, but at length, he said, “Perhaps I wouldn’t be needing your assistance anymore.”

“You’re welcome to come back should you change your mind.”

“I highly doubt it, but I thank you for your generosity. If you’ll excuse me.”

The datu waved a hand, granting the merchant permission to leave the room.

Cricket chirps and an owl’s hoots dominated the stillness left in Merchant Tangad’s wake. Dalon didn’t quite dare to breathe deeply yet, his belly still roiling with nerves. Everything felt like an out-of-body experience, almost as if he were watching the events unfold from Karí’s mind. But Dalon knew that was impossible. The King Eyes could never transmit imaginings about himself and other real people.

“My lord,” Karí’s soft voice punctured the quiet of the room. “If I may implore you, Dalon had nothing but good intentions with his story and with his attempts to keep me out of the investigation.”

Dalon’s heart hitched. He fought the immense urge to take responsibility, to prove to himself that things were still in his power to change. But what power he did have in this situation was small, and here was someone else with a bigger safety net who was willing to share her power with him. He remained quiet.

The datu shook himself slightly, as if he’d been lost in thought. “You’re asking for a reduction of punishment for your friend? While I admire that Dalon was so loyal to you, he was willing to yank himself and his entire family into debt to spare you, lying during an investigation prevents us from enacting justice. If the situation had been worse, many people could have been hurt by his decision.”

“I understand, my lord. And I’m not asking for a reduction of punishment. I’m asking you to commute the punishment to me. I was being shielded, and I... I don’t need to be.” Karí sent Dalon a sad smile. At a loss for anything else to do, he took her hand and held it tight.

“Well, I hope you know what you’re asking,” Datu Hálgundî continued. “As a fellow human being, I empathize with the trouble you’ve inadvertently gotten yourselves into, but as a datu, my leniency can only go so far without my authority coming into question. The penalty is twenty-five gold beads. You think your family would willingly pay that?”

“I will work hard to repay them back,” Karí said. “And the penalty for accidentally tarnishing Merchant Tangad’s image through the story?”

“Ten gold beads.” He must have sensed their surprise. “As I understand it, there was no malicious intent and there is some ambiguity in how to interpret King Luyong’s character. And it doesn’t appear as if the gossip has affected Merchant Tangad’s business yet.”

“Thank you,” Karí exhaled. While thirty-five gold beads would have been a heavy penalty for Dalon to shoulder, it appeared manageable to her, judging by her reaction. “And I promise you, we will never tell a story that can insult anyone again.”

Dalon nodded vigorously to this, but Datu Hálgundî’s lips quirked at the corners. “No? What a miraculous day that would be once you’ve figured out exactly what kind of story will insult absolutely no one.”

“My lord?” Dalon asked.

Datu Hálgundî shook his head. “All I ask is for you to refrain from blatant and deliberate insults that harm the well-being and dignity of another person. But you must know better than me how powerful stories can be. For the dozens who went home satisfied and amazed after hearing your tale, there would have been a few who went home confused or frustrated. And we know at least one who got embarrassed and offended. That’s the power of what the two of you do. You make people feel.”

His response sent a warm tendril through Dalon’s chest, easing a bit of his tension. Still, there was one other thing he wanted to clarify. “My lord, has Lurit lost our source of rice? Because of what we did?”

Datu Hálgundî heaved a sigh. It made him seem younger than he was, and suddenly, Dalon’s problems appeared miniscule in comparison.

“Yes,” the datu replied. “Yes, we lost our source of rice. And yes, it is partly because of what you did, but mostly, it’s because of a miscalculation on my part. I will not burden you with a penalty for it.”

“I mean no insolence if I must ask again, but why was Merchant Tangad so insulted about an eloquence amulet?” Dalon didn’t know whether he should imply what he now suspected: that the man had been using one.

Datu Hálgundî fiddled with his thumbs, a gesture of indecision or procrastination, Dalon wasn’t sure. “I suppose leaving you in the dark would only make you more curious, and I’d rather have the information come from me rather than someone else. Here, come along.”

He stood up so abruptly that Karí and Dalon had to scramble up to their feet. The datu was already out the door and striding down the hall just as they managed to make it out of the pile of cushions surrounding the table. Dalon teetered a little, and Karí looped her arm around his for support.

“You’re sick,” she noted.

“A katalonan gave me some medicine to ease the symptoms,” he said as they hastened after Datu Hálgundî. The warrior who stood by the door tailed them. “I wouldn’t stick too close if I were you. I might be contagious. I think I got this from Ma.”

“Ah, well, I believe it’s too late now.” Karí kept her arm linked with this.