Chapter 16
Epilogue
The sky glowed with the pink of impending dawn by the time Dalon and Karí exited the datu’s house to return to their own homes. Datu Hálgundî told them he would announce an official explanation to the villagers to address the rumours about Dalon’s arrest, as well as Merchant Tangad’s decision to quit being their rice supplier. With his exhaustion and lingering illness, Dalon found himself unable to anticipate what that announcement would mean for him, his family, and his job.
A young man waited at the foot of the steps to Datu Hálgundî’s house. He had the same curly hair as Karí, though shorn short at the sides and tousled at the top. It was Haban. Karí ran down to him with something like relief.
“Everything okay?” he asked, voice gentle. They started down the path towards the pier, and Dalon followed a few steps behind.
“I wouldn’t say ‘okay,’ exactly,” Karí admitted. “I owe a penalty of forty-seven gold and fifty copper beads.”
“Not good news, but I suppose it could be worse.”
“I don’t think Ma and Pa would be pleased.”
“That, they won’t. But we’ll get through it, I’m sure.” Haban patted his sister’s shoulder. His gaze caught on Dalon behind them. An unusual shyness overcame Dalon, and he wasn’t sure how to address Karí’s family knowing the trouble he’d gotten her into behind their backs. But Haban only told Karí, “I’ll go get our raft ready,” before walking faster ahead.
Karí slowed until she was walking side by side with Dalon. “Will you be fine riding back alone?”
“Oh, I got company.” Dalon pointed his lips towards the three warriors readying the boat that had brought him from his stilt house. Datu Hálgundî had ensured he would at least have the same ride back.
The mossy scent of the river was strong here, and it was rare for Dalon to breathe in air that lacked the salty tang of the sea. It felt strange for a morning to feel so peaceful after the last day had brought him tumultuous waves of despair, relief, despair, relief.
“Karí, I want to thank you,” he said, turning to her. “For choosing to help me.”
“You didn’t think I would?”
He looked back at the river. “No, but I was wrong.”
Karí laughed sadly. “To be honest, I was so scared, I almost didn’t go. I expected the datu’s warriors would come for me, anyway.”
“You thought I would reveal your part that easily?”
“Yes, but I was wrong too.”
Dalon stopped walking. “Remember what you said on the first day of the festival, just before you got me the coconut drink? That I don’t ask for help because I’m afraid of owing anybody anything? That isn’t the exact reason, although it may seem that way. It’s only that for so long when I was younger, I did need help, but there wasn’t really anyone that could provide it. I had to figure things out on my own. I suppose I got so used to it I became afraid to look for help again.”
“Just in case you wouldn’t find it?”
“Yes, and in case I would come to rely on it too much.”
Karí laid a hand on his arm. “Dalon, you have been a great friend to me, and I think you’d be surprised at how many people would love the opportunity to say that about you.”
“I’m ready!” Haban called from the pier.
Karí stepped away. “I don’t know how I... or when I can...”
“I understand,” Dalon said. “Take care of things with your family first. I have to do the same with mine.”
She nodded and gave him a soft, tired smile before waving farewell.
The trip downriver was quiet. The villagers of Lurit were just waking up, and the warriors manning the boat were reticent. Dalon didn’t mind. There remained a slight ache to his throat, and he wasn’t sure what kind of conversation he could strike up with three warriors, anyway.
As more houses dotted the riverbank, a raft emerged on the river, heading in the opposite direction. Excluding the raft-rower, the three other figures riding on it seemed familiar. There was a tall, slender woman with a toddler strapped to a carrier on her back, and a man beside her holding a walking stick.
“Excuse me,” Dalon called out to the middle-aged warrior. “Could you get closer to that raft? I think that’s my family.”
The warrior hailed the raft-rower, and they moved closer to each other. It was indeed Dalon’s family on the raft, and once his parents had seen him, they began waving and calling out excitedly. When the boat was close enough, his mother leaned over and hopped into it.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re all right!” she cried, enclosing him in a tight hug. “We were so worried.”
Dalon accepted the embrace, more grateful for it than he'd imagined. Toba patted his head over their mother’s shoulder, and he grinned at the little boy. Eventually, he disentangled himself and helped his father step into the boat as well.
“What are the three of you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be resting, Ma?”
“My fever broke,” she said. “My sore throat is gone. It seemed like my illness jumped right out of my body and into yours. And at the worst timing, apparently.”
“We heard rumours of serious allegations about you,” his Pa chimed in. “We were going up to the datu’s compound to see if we could help explain your situation. We know little about the work you do for your storytelling, but we know you’re a hardworking and dutiful child. That should count for something.”
Warmth infused Dalon’s chest. Even after forgetting his Ma’s birthday and neglecting so many household chores, they still thought him dutiful.
“I’m sorry I worried you both. I did get into a bit of trouble, and I owe a pretty hefty fine. But Datu Hálgundî has dealt with me more than fairly.”
His parents thanked the raft-rower and sent him on his way. They settled into the boat, and for the rest of their journey home, Dalon explained everything that had happened, everything he’d concealed from them.
“That old heirloom really is an amulet?” his Pa asked with fascinated surprise. “All this time! I don’t think even my grandfather knew it. And all it takes to activate it is to hold it while your eyes are closed?”
“It was stored away in that very pretty box for a long time,” Dalon’s Ma suggested, arms looped around Toba on her lap. “I can imagine it isn’t the first thing people would try after seeing it.”
“Datu Hálgundî will keep it now.” Dalon couldn’t quite keep the disappointment out of his voice.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” His Pa sighed, lips curling down at the corners. “It’s been in the family for a long time. Did you know I was going to give it to you? As part of a bride price for when you find someone to marry?”
Dalon wasn’t expecting that. Although he was entering the age for marriage, not once had it occurred to him to even plan for it. There were always so many other things to think about.
The shock must have been evident on his face, for his father laughed. “Well, it doesn’t matter now, I suppose. I’m a little unnerved that we never knew what it was capable of. I’m just thankful it wasn’t dangerous, at least.”
It was comforting to see that Dalon’s Pa wasn’t too upset about his loss. But perhaps he never had the chance to grow attached to the King Eyes the way Dalon had. Dalon still didn’t know how he was going to continue storytelling, but it would never be the same without experiencing the vivid world of Karí’s mind. If he wasn’t so overwhelmed about everything that had happened in the past day, he was certain the pang in his chest would be stronger.
The warriors deposited the four of them at their stilt house. Inside, Dalon’s Ma settled Toba down on a mat to play with his stuffed dolphin toy. Then she turned to Dalon, patting the bamboo cot. “Get some rest. I’ll send word to Nigo not to expect you for a few days.”
“A few days?” Much of his illness had been eased by the katalonan’s ministrations. With some deep sleep, he would feel much better by tomorrow. It would be good to start earning out his penalty.
But his Ma sent him a severe look. “Rest, Dalon. Please, you need it. Even if you heal soon, you need to recover from what happened the last day. Big stresses like that take a toll on the body too.”
Dalon acquiesced and laid down on the cot. He stretched himself out, surprised to find that his feet now went past the bottom edge of the frame. It had been such a long time since he’d slept here. He loosened the tightness in his muscles and belly, and with that simple gesture, his body seemed to shut down.
The next thing he knew, he was blinking his eyes open to the light of late afternoon. His head was clearer and his body was lighter, and for a moment the view of his family’s hut under the soft wash of sunlight took him aback. When was the last time he’d seen the inside of their hut during the day?
The chests that stored their possessions were all swept clean of dust, stacked neatly by the wall across the cot. The hole in the roof that he’d been lamenting just a few days ago was nowhere to be seen. Their small dining area, a few steps away from the cot, was well-organized, the water jars filled to the brim. Beside the cot on the floor, his Ma and Toba were lying on the woven mat, carefree in an afternoon nap.
A rattling came from outside the door, and a moment later, his father stepped in. One hand clutched some loose rope and a handful of pegs. He limped over to the cot and smiled at Dalon. “Just making sure the ladder remains sturdy after my reinforcements.”
“Wait, you already reinforced it?”
“Three days ago, just after the caravan arrived.” His Pa stored away the tools, then sat down beside him. Three days ago. Dalon hadn’t even noticed. “I had a bit of free time after helping your mother mend fishing nets.”
“You’ve been helping Ma with the nets?”
“Sometimes even the baskets!” His Pa chuckled, then waved his hands. “My leg might be weak now, but these hands can still do a lot of work. Now we’re able to double the amount of mending in a week.”
At Dalon’s speechless stare, his Pa’s cheer melted away, replaced by a wrinkle between his brows. “You apologized so many times this morning, but I believe it’s your Ma and me who owe you an apology. I’m sorry, Dalon. I wasn’t there for you these last few years, and I can see all the ways you had to compensate for it.”
A soft ache bloomed in Dalon’s chest, like he’d been holding his breath too long underwater. “Pa, you were injured. Then your spirit was ill. I don’t blame you for what happened.”
“It’s not about blame, son. And I’m not blaming your mother for being too ill during your childhood, either. It was nobody’s fault, but somehow, it all became your problem.” He stroked Dalon’s hair from his face, his touch tender. “I just want to acknowledge it. I want you to know that I know. What happened to you — to us, to our family — was unfortunate, and you’ve had to carry more than your fair share of responsibility.
“But I also want you to know that, at least for now, we are all right.” His voice was full of earnestness and love. “I want you to know that I am so grateful for all you’ve done, and that you can let go a little bit.”
Dalon had believed he’d woken up as well-rested as he could be. But his father’s words further unbound him from an anchor of strain that he didn’t even realize had been weighing him down for so long. Without it, he was so light he could float away.
“Thank you, Pa.”
“Get some more rest. Your Ma will make you some rice porridge tonight.”
Over the next month, the residents of Lurit came to know three things about the rice merchant and the village storyteller. The first was that the charge of insult was mostly a misunderstanding. The second was that the storyteller had been working with a youth from the potter family to craft his stories. The third was that they’d been using an amulet to envision the story better, which caused the misunderstanding.
It was accurate enough without revealing Datu Hálgundî and Merchant Tangad’s arrangement with the eloquence amulet. The datu reassured everyone that he was now searching industriously for a new rice merchant in time for the next caravan. At first, Dalon had expected to be at the receiving end of everyone’s ire, the reason that they’d lost access to a generous deal of rice.
To his surprise, things didn’t turn out that way. Aunt Nigo didn’t remove him from his position at her fish stall like he’d expected, and she even accepted his parents’ request that he work only four out of every five days. The fish vendor remained as practical as ever. The only time she’d mentioned the fiasco was when she’d admonished him for not disclosing the amulet sooner to the datu. “You would have avoided getting into trouble in the first place,” Aunt Nigo had said. “You and the girl could have just talked through your stories, no?”
Other people treated him less like a criminal, and more of a fascination. His role in losing their source of rice was less important than his role as the first person to discover an amulet in Lurit in decades. And though he had broken a decree in using it, it was what they were all most curious about.
“What was it like?” they asked as they passed by Aunt Nigo’s stall. Out of politeness, many ended up buying a pack or two of smoked fish. Dalon described the experience as well as he could, careful not to glorify the crime too much. Still, reminiscing kindled a strong longing in him. He missed his nights with Karí.
One time, Dalon had the opportunity to visit Uncle Ilas. With a healthy store of rice, the vendor was still happily making and selling rice-cakes in his stall.
“Hey, you finally showed up!” The portly man grinned at Dalon and gave his shoulder two hearty slaps.
“You’re not angry?”
“I was more worried than anything else. But even then, I know the datu has a level head on his shoulders, young as he may be. And between the two of us,” he leaned close and gave Dalon a wink. “I don’t think anyone was all that keen on Tangad, anyway. Rice is delicious, but it’s not always worth putting up with folks who look down on us. You know how we are here in Lurit. We may be humble, but we’re a hardy bunch. There are lots of amazing dishes we can make without rice.”
Dalon chuckled. “Thanks, Uncle Ilas. I miss visiting you here.”
“Are you going to tell a story tonight? My customers miss you, too.”
“Ah, perhaps if they’re all right with an old tale told straight. No unexpected twists. No new versions.” Dalon wasn’t comfortable with telling one of the stories he and Karí had worked on, not until he knew how to move forward with their own partnership. He still hadn’t seen her since that morning they’d departed from the datu’s compound.
“You haven’t met with your partner yet, have you?” Uncle Ilas asked, almost as if he could detect Dalon’s thoughts. “Why not go up to her family’s compound? They’re there. They’re doing fine. Pay her a visit.”
“I don’t know if I can face them yet. Not after everything.”
Dalon knew one day he would have to muster the courage to apologize to Karí’s family. Having to shoulder a fine of almost fifty gold beads was no laughing matter, even if they could afford it better than his family could. He may not owe Karí and her family money, but he would harbour a debt of gratitude for them all his life.
More than that, Dalon still hoped that he could continue his storytelling eventually. Although having freer evenings and nights was restorative, it couldn’t replace the gratification of moving a crowd with well-timed words and carefully honed storylines. And he had a hunch Karí would still want to work with him if she could. It wasn’t lost on him that although their strengths lay in different places, she also considered stories as a way to show bits of her heart and mind to others, and glean theirs in return.
The days passed more slowly than before. Dalon didn’t need to wake up so early, and without his nightly storytelling or planning, he came home early, too. A part of him strained at the pace, itching to pay off his debt to the datu. A different part scolded him to take it easy, to not be hasty. There would be time to find an additional job, to make more money. For now, rest. And so Dalon ate breakfast and dinner with his family, and during his days off, they walked down the beach or splashed around in the Big River.
It was early afternoon during one of these days when an unexpected knock came at their door. His Ma and Pa were folding the fishing net they had just finished fixing. Dalon set aside the tunic whose holes he’d been stitching and made his way towards the door, dodging Toba who was waving Lum around and making whooshing noises.
Dalon opened the door and was gobsmacked to find Datu Hálgundî standing right behind it. Beside him was a little elderly woman with deep wrinkles around her smiling eyes. Her thin white hair was braided over one shoulder. She’d aged in the three years since Dalon had last seen her perform a story, but he recognized at once that this was Grandmother Damang.
The surprise didn’t end there. Off to the side, almost uncertain of her presence among her company, was Karí. Dalon’s breath quickened. Although it had just been a month, their separation had felt longer. She looked well, and he was so glad to see her now.
Dalon just barely remembered to bow in front of the datu. Behind him, he heard his parents scrambling to do the same, urging Toba to get down as well. There was a plop on the floor that told Dalon his brother did exactly that.
“Thank you for the warm welcome,” Datu Hálgundî said, voice gentle and amused. “You may rise.”
Dalon did so, then stepped aside and invited all three in. With seven people inside, the hut seemed even smaller, but neither the datu, nor the old woman, nor Karí showed any discomfort.
“I was hoping to have a moment to talk with you and Karí here,” Datu Hálgundî explained. “You’re not in trouble, don’t worry. Instead, I’m here for a proposal.”
“Ah, yes, of course,” Dalon said, although his heart was already hopping to his throat. What proposal could this be?
He and his Ma arranged his sleeping mat on the floor and softened it with all the blankets and cushions they had. Karí sidled up to him, took one of the blankets, and patted it down on the mat.
“Hello,” she whispered with a shy smile. “It’s good to see you.”
“Karí,” Dalon could barely contain all he wanted to ask. “How are you? How did your family take the news?”
The cringe she gave him spoke volumes, but she grinned right after. “Oh, they were upset, but mostly about me sneaking out at night. The amulet, the rice, the insult, the penalty — all of those are secondary.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Well, if it makes you feel better, it’s not entirely your fault. Ma actually felt partially responsible. She believed I wouldn’t have done it, or at least I would have told them about you earlier, if they had paid more attention to me. I think she and Pa felt guilty about not even knowing I enjoy making stories. To be fair, I don’t think I shared much about it. That said, no more sneaking out for me. When they said they’ll pay me more attention, they were serious about it.”
Dalon’s parents and brother kept to the dining area and left the prepared floor for the four of them. Datu Hálgundî fluffed up one cushion, and the old woman settled on it with a satisfied sigh. Then he knelt on the blankets himself. Dalon and Karí faced him, and for a moment, Dalon felt a sense of time repeating itself, even though they were in a different place, in the company of different people.
“I don’t know if you’ve ever met my old tutor, Grandmother Damang,” Datu Hálgundî gestured to the old woman.
“Hello dear,” she greeted him with a smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. Her voice had an airy quality to it now, something he didn’t recall from her last narration. Still, Dalon’s skin warmed and his belly fluttered. He had teased Karí the night before the festival about holding a conversation with Grandma Damang, and now here he was, about to do the same.
“You both likely noticed that Grandma Damang’s voice has abated the last few years, resulting in the absence of her performances during feasts,” Datu Hálgundî said. “It has not escaped me that all those nights you were telling the stories that you crafted with Karí, you were providing an important and much beloved service for the villagers. Even though your audience was limited, those who had a chance to listen to your stories have all said how amazed they were by the creative changes you made to the traditional tales. So here’s what I propose.”
Dalon stiffened, not quite ready for the hope that was sprouting in his chest.
Datu Hálgundî pulled from his pouch a familiar white pendant hanging from a leather twine. “My katalonan has tried all the common methods of activating an amulet on this,” he began. “She has come to the same conclusion as you. The King Eyes can only be activated by closing one’s eyes and holding it at the same time. And same as your experience, the only magical ability it showed her is transmitting imagined scenes about people who don’t exist.”
The datu continued, a playful smile emerging on his face. “For now, I’m granting this to you as an indefinite loan. I propose that you and Karí receive training and further education on storytelling from Grandma Damang. In turn, you will serve as the new official storytellers of Lurit during feasts and festivals. And should time allow for it, you may also tell stories at any of the markets you fancy.”
Dalon looked at Karí, gauging her reaction to make sure he was not hallucinating the datu’s words. Her open-mouthed stare — unusual for the self-conscious Karí — told him he wasn’t.
“B-but, I mean, my lord, this is an astounding offer,” Karí managed to say. “The price for the apprenticeship, though...”
Grandmother Damang nodded. “Normally it would be expensive, as it must entice the storyteller to take on more apprentices besides her own children. But we are in a unique situation where we must entice the both of you to become apprentices.”
“You will be compensated,” Datu Hálgundî confirmed. “You’ll receive a monthly stipend of seven silver beads during your studies, a portion of which would pay off your penalties. You will also receive an additional gold bead for every official performance you deliver. Do you accept?”
Again, Dalon exchanged glances with Karí, unable to believe the enormous opportunity lying in front of them. Seven silver beads a month meant he could steadily chip away at his debt and still ensure that his family was comfortable. Not just today, or this month, or this year, but for the foreseeable future. He wouldn’t need to worry about juggling his job at Aunt Nigo’s stall while studying at the same time. He would learn the tricky techniques for narrating that he couldn’t on his own, study entire collections of stories that he couldn’t even number.
Beside Dalon, Karí seemed to be tallying up all the advantages of this proposal, too. She opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again to emit a series of stutters. He could only imagine how fast her mind was working. “I can’t even, I mean of course I would, but what if I... oh, what am I saying? This will help me learn how to speak better than I’m doing now?”
“How to speak, how to sing, how to observe, how to remember,” Grandmother Damang listed the skills off on her fingers. “How to think about the world.”
“Then yes, of course!”
“How about you, Dalon?” Datu Hálgundî prompted.
Dalon reached out to touch the amulet, its shape still so familiar on his fingers. He and Karí could use the King Eyes again. Be partners again, doing what they both loved.
Breathless and brimming with excitement, he answered, “Yes.”