Chapter 9
Heated Herbs, Hidden Jewel
Vapours of earthy ginger and tangy calamansi greeted Dalon when he stepped inside his hut. The basket of dried fruits, raw taros, and leftover smoked fish had been pushed to the side of their dining crate to make room for a pitcher of steaming water. A filled bowl sat beside it, with a raggedy towel swimming on the surface. Next to it was a small cup half-filled with the herbal blend Grandma Ahel had given him that morning.
“Hello, Pa. How are you both doing?” Dalon greeted.
His father was sitting at the edge of the cot, folding clothes. His mother lay bundled beside him, but judging by her steady breathing, she was fast asleep.
“No worse off than this morning, I should say,” Dalon’s Pa said. He set the folded pile aside and stood, reaching for the cane by the wall.
“Good. Here, I’ll put those away.” Dalon hurried to take the clothes from his father.
“She still has a fever, still a little high. But the coughing has paused enough to let her get some rest. Thank you for getting those herbs from Grandma Ahel.”
Dalon tucked the clothes into their wooden chests. “And how about you? I hope it wasn’t difficult for you to keep boiling all that water.” Living at the edge of the beach, with the seawater reaching halfway up the hut’s stilts during high tide, meant that any time they needed to make a fire, they had to go inland.
“Don’t worry about me. I may have a lame leg, but I can put a pot on a fire just fine.”
Dalon chuckled. “It’s your climbing down the ladder and back up that worries me. Especially with a pot of hot water.”
“Our lift-basket works all right. Besides, there are always lads playing about that I can ask for help.” His father waved him off. “Are you going to visit Toba? I miss the little squid, but I think he ought to stay the night at Lisay’s.”
“I think so too.” Dalon gathered a fresh set of clothes for Toba. Then he pulled more beads from his savings jar, steeling himself against the disappointment that trickled down his chest. The jar was noticeably less full, and it had only been a day since his mother got sick. It must be all those raft-rides they were paying for now. How many times did he and his father go back-and-forth inland today?
Dalon dropped the beads into his pouch. “Will you be all right for a while longer? I’m going up north again after seeing Toba.”
“Telling another story tonight?”
“Ah, I am not, but I’m hoping to tell a story during the festival. I just need to do some preparations for it, talk with a few folks.” Dalon hoped that was vague enough. He fidgeted with the leather necklace of the amulet.
“I’ll be fine.” His Pa nodded towards the humble array of food on the table. “I’ll have some dinner and get your Ma to drink a bit more tea if she can.”
Dalon climbed out of the hut and, now that the tide was out, walked across the wet, squishy ground littered with broken shells to Aunt Lisay’s house. At least his father didn’t seem too despondent. Dalon worried that with his Ma ill, his Pa might succumb to a kind of paralysis brought on by the grip of stress or fear or hopelessness, the way he’d done after he’d gotten injured and couldn’t work anymore.
Back then, his Pa had done nothing but stare out of the window for almost an entire year. His appetite had been timid at best. Grandma Ahel had said that his spirit had shifted off-kilter, that it wasn’t sitting right in his body. Dalon wasn’t exactly sure how his Pa got better, and because of that, he wasn’t sure either what it might take for that brand of illness to alight on him again.
And Dalon wouldn’t be able to afford to have both his parents sick at the same time. If that were to happen, he might have no choice but to indenture himself, a fate he’d narrowly missed in the past.
It wasn’t quite a shameful thing to be forced into, at least not here in Lurit where most people outside of the datu’s family didn’t vary much in means. Yes, those from bigger families could often pool their resources together for a more comfortable life. And it was true that when Kawalanlunod was stingy with the fruits of the sea, the fisherfolk were the ones to feel his ire the strongest. But everybody worked hard, and it wasn’t uncommon for villagers to move up and down the ladder of prosperity. Even Karí’s cousin — the one who’d sculpted the Spirit Ship on top of the previous datu’s burial jar — had tumbled down its steps.
Some part of Dalon had long accepted that Lakimpalad had just not favoured him and his family with much luck, and there was no use wallowing about it. His energy was better spent doing everything he could to ensure his family’s welfare. But his belly quivered at the thought of dipping into debt. It wasn’t unusual to pay off debts with servitude, but for many people, once they acquired one debt, it got easier to keep going. For Dalon, it must be the last resort.
Dalon knocked on Aunt Lisay’s door, which opened almost immediately.
“Ah, there you are, Dalon.” She stepped aside and nodded towards the inside of the hut. “There’s your sad little egg.”
Dalon almost laughed at seeing Toba, even though there was nothing funny about it. His little brother sat on the blue sleeping mat, shoulders slumped, legs splayed out, head hanging sulkily. Dalon approached and found Toba lightly tapping his dolphin toy on the mat. He was the very image of childish ruefulness, and Dalon felt so sorry for him.
“Hello there, little man.” Dalon laid down on the mat. From this angle, he could look up at Toba’s face. But his brother carefully avoided his gaze, mouth stubbornly set in a pout. “Aw, I know, I know.” Dalon rubbed Toba’s back, barely bigger than two of his handspans. He seemed so small and so lonely that Dalon’s heart clenched, knowing he’d have to leave him here for the night.
“He’s been like that for most of the day,” Aunt Lisay said. She sat at the edge of her cot and smiled sadly at Toba’s slumped form. “Even when a couple of other kids came, he kept to his own corner and played with his dolphin.”
Dalon sighed. “I hope you got him to eat, though.”
“He had some appetite, yes. And I made sure he got lots to drink too. But no energy for company, it seems.”
Dalon pushed himself to his knees and gave Toba an exaggerated smile. “Hey, the festival starts tomorrow! Why don’t I take you there, huh? There will be lots of food and toys!” He doubted, however, that he could buy Toba many of those. But he was certain that simply seeing and experiencing new things would help his brother regain his energy. “What do you say?”
Toba continued thumping poor Lum on the mat.
Aunt Lisay chuckled. “He’ll be fine. Kids sometimes get those moods. When he’s back with his Ma, he’ll feel better.”
“Actually, Auntie, I was hoping you can keep Toba here for the night? Ma isn’t all that much better yet.”
“Not a problem. There’s space for him, as you can see. And you won’t believe how much energy sulking actually takes. I don’t think I’d have any trouble putting him to sleep.”
“Thank you, Aunt Lisay.” Dalon passed several more copper beads to the older woman, as well as Toba’s change of clothes. “If he needs anything else, you can stop by our hut. Pa is managing things quite well, and I will also be back later tonight.”
He turned to Toba again and stretched out his arms. “Hey, Toba, can I get a hug? I’m so tired today! Work was so tough, but I’ll feel so much better with a hug. No? Oh, please, you give the best hugs. Please, Toba?” Toba angled his body a little to lean on Dalon’s thighs. It wasn’t an enthusiastic embrace at all, but it was good enough for Dalon. He bent over his brother, enclosing him in his arms. “Ah, you’re such a champ, little guy.” He gave Toba a final nuzzle on the hair, then bid them farewell. This time, Toba was too busy sulking to cry.
Cotton-like wisps of clouds ambled over the sky, casting Dalon and Karí’s meeting spot in dappled moonlight. Dalon rounded the shrubs of hibiscus growing by one wall of the hut and found himself face to face with Karí. She peered out at him from inside the hut, hair tied up in a high, twisting bun. A wide grin stretched over her face. Seeing her now brought to mind their last meeting, her drenched body crumpled on the sand.
“I’m sorry!” he blurted at the same time she said, “I have an idea!”
Karí blinked, and a confused frown dimmed her smile. “Oh, that? Don’t worry about me. Were you all right? You seemed unwell this morning.”
Dalon took the hand she stretched out, and he hopped into the hut without bothering with the ladder. They shuffled into their usual spot. “It’s not me who’s unwell. My mother woke up with a high fever this morning. I was rushing about to get some chores done before heading off to work. I should have been more alert by the river.”
Karí squeezed his hand gently. “It isn’t anything serious, I hope? Has a katalonan seen her yet?”
“I went to Grandma Ahel this morning and told her of Ma’s symptoms, but she’s not too worried for now.”
“That’s good to hear. Does your Ma need anything? We have some herbs in our garden. I can get you ginger, tumeric, calamansi, whatever she needs.”
“Not to worry, I already bought an herbal blend from Grandma Ahel.” Dalon rubbed the back of his head and peered at Karí’s figure amidst the shadows. “Did I hurt you too much?”
“Honestly, I think I was more shocked than hurt. My side ached a little afterward, but I don’t feel anything at all now. I’m all right, I promise.”
“If you find out you’re injured in any way, just let me know, and I’ll...” He’d what? Pay for her treatment? With his fast-dwindling savings? But he had to make up for it somehow.
“Oh, don’t be so anxious, Dalon!” she pressed. “It doesn’t matter, I swear it. Look, I finally have an idea for Princess Maya.” Even in the dark, the excited gleam in her eyes was unmistakable. “I got to speak with Grandmother Damang earlier in the pavilion for the merchants.”
“You did?” Even to his own ears, Dalon’s voice dripped with awe. Grandmother Damang was almost as far up the ranks as the datu. He couldn’t imagine just speaking with her. “Karí, you’ve been holding back on me. Always so shy, but look at you, chatting with the official storyteller! Did you have drinks with Datu Hálgundî too?”
Karí laughed, swatting him on the arm good-naturedly. “Stop teasing. It wasn’t like that. It’s not like she sung an epic and I burst through the crowd demanding her attention. She retired, remember? She was sitting in the corner, and few people were speaking with her, so it was easy to drop in a word. And she was kind, not at all intimidating.”
When Dalon was a child, he would sometimes copy the dramatic flair Grandmother Damang used in her narration when he’d tell stories to his Ma. She had always found it delightful, clapping and encouraging him when he would turn the rhythmic delivery of words into an outright melody. His Ma sometimes teased him, “Your Pa and I would have to work hard to afford an apprenticeship for you.”
It was an impossibility, and Dalon had no false notions of his chances of becoming an official storyteller. The role was usually hereditary, and it took years to learn all the required skills. ‘Storyteller’ they might be called, but they were also story-keepers, story-gatherers, story-analyzers. He would have to dedicate time and money towards his studies that would be better spent on his family.
No, what Dalon did as a casual storyteller was sufficient for now. Even if the datu were to find someone to succeed Grandmother Damang, there was still a place for him, someone whose performances required little pomp. It was a good middle ground, and he heard that bigger settlements actually had a handful of casual performers like him.
“Grandma Damang advised we focus on the message we want to send,” Karí continued. “And I don’t know what kind of mood the goddess Lakimpalad was in, but soon after, I overheard a few servants talking, and the perfect idea struck me.”
“What is it?” A heady warmth blossomed in Dalon’s chest, a mix of relief and thrill. Maybe they would have a story just in time for the festival, after all.
Karí positioned herself in front of him, never once letting go of his hand. “Watch this and tell me what you think.”
Dalon hastily dropped into Karí’s sphere, and she began with the scene when Utaw finally managed to worm his way into Princess Maya’s cave. There, the princess revealed a secret nook cradling a magnificent ruby.
A series of historical scenes suddenly cut through this one. The first depicted a younger-looking King Luyong when he first announced that he’d hidden Maya for her own safety. The citizens who gathered for his announcement nodded somberly, eyes glinting with trust and admiration for his sacrifice.
The next scene was several years later, it seemed. King Luyong visited his daughter, but spent most of their time together cradling the mysterious ruby. When next he appeared aboveground, he was surrounded by foreign traders, all of whom were listening intently, wide-eyed while they made hasty calculations on their abacus. They all cheered and shook hands with the king before exchanging sacks of gold beads for wagons of porcelain.
Another scene showed King Luyong in a heated argument with a red-cheeked noble, all the while appearing calm and collected himself. The noble slumped in surrender, handing over a copperplate signifying some treaty.
The vision ended with a scene that was familiar to Dalon, having seen it the previous night: King Luyong banishing Utaw. This time, when every witness nodded eagerly with his decree, they displayed the same hungry nods or hesitant acquiescence that the citizens and traders and courtier of the past scenes did.
Slowly, the visions from Karí evaporated like steam from a cauldron. Dalon blinked away the shininess of her inner world, as his physical senses fought for prominence again.
“... think about it? Princess Maya is a guardian of an amulet!” he’d never heard Karí chatter so excitedly before. “I know it might seem like a strange power, but as someone who has a hard time coming up with the right words to say, I think an amulet that helps its user speak effectively will be immensely helpful for a king. For someone who wants to inspire and be persuasive.”
Dalon allowed her words to settle in his mind, stitching the different scenes of the vision together. “You mean, for example, convincing people you have their best interests at heart,” he supplied. “Or saying things so smoothly, people rarely doubt your ideas.”
“Exactly! Let’s say the amulet allows ideas to come to its user without effort, transformed into words in the right order, with the right power. We can call it an ‘eloquence amulet.’ That’s what I overheard some servants joking about earlier.”
“An eloquence amulet.” In his mind, Dalon shuffled through the events in their story. Already, he could see many parts in which to sprinkle some hints of this amulet. Energy coiled in his chest as the pieces slotted into place. “Karí, this is perfect. It will be a powerful tool for a king. And it’s not one of the more obvious powers that amulets bestow in tales. This will fascinate people!”
“I can see only one problem,” Karí admitted. “I don’t know why Princess Maya has to be the one who guards the amulet. Especially because she was still only a child when King Luyong made her live in the cave. Wouldn’t that be a big responsibility for someone so young? Or am I just thinking too much about this?”
“Well, what if...” Dalon scratched his head, tempted to leave that question unanswered. Would people wonder about it? Surely, this new twist in the tale would be enough of a surprise. But then again, that was usually when people picked apart new ideas.
Dalon recalled the group of children who’d been playing in the puddle by Aunt Nigo’s stall earlier, though he wasn’t sure what prompted the memory to surface. What was it that little boy said? The one who lost the game? That his mother called him her amulet, for he brought her good luck.
“Wait, what if Princess Maya isn’t guarding the amulet?” he continued musing. “What if she is the amulet?”
Karí’s contemplative frown ebbed away into a pleased grin. Her mouth moved as if she wanted to comment, but no sound came for a while. “Sorry, my mind just showed me a hundred different ways we can make that happen. Princess Maya, an actual amulet. Incredible! And,” her eyes found his, wide with creative zeal. “It gives us the perfect message for the story, just like Grandma Damang suggested! ‘Utaw and Princess Maya’ has always been about working hard and smart, but what if we also show what happens when people go to great lengths to hide a secret they benefit from? That’s a new perspective on this story!”
Dalon chuckled, brows rising. “Accurate, but hits a bit too close to reality, don’t you think?” He allowed his words to sink in Karí, and she choked on a giggle when she realized the irony of what she’d said. That the two of them would come up with this message, while they were both hiding in a little hut at midnight, using a secret amulet, seemed like the gods were being a little playful.
“We’re not like King Luyong, are we?” Karí bit her lip, trying to fight a smile. “We haven’t forced anyone to live underground.”
Dalon was certain that King Luyong’s justifications for his actions sounded reasonable to him too. But it also rankled to be compared to a king, when Luyong surely had everything at the tips of his fingers, while Dalon was scraping to get by. “I’m sure there’s a lesson here somewhere, but I think we’re more like Utaw. Just trying to live a decent life.”
“I prefer that interpretation.” Karí made a grand show of peering out of the hut’s window. “Let’s just hope our own King Luyong isn’t out there, wanting to banish us for stumbling on his secret. Now, if you’re on board with this new idea, what do you say we prepare the final version for tomorrow?”