I awoke to the nearly-silent pat-pat of sandals. Somebody quietly put something on my table and then just as soundlessly departed. When I was sure I was alone, I rose, looked at the plate of food and the glass of wine on the table, used my chamber pot, and donned my undershorts and robe.
I sat at the table, still morose, but being a curious boy, also wondering what the day would bring. Shortly after I finished my meal, the door opened and the same giggling girls entered with the same steaming jugs of water. Again they looked at me and giggled again before they departed. Almost at once, Jiraha entered. She was carrying a white shawl and a palm-leaf hat with a wide, long visor. “These are to protect you from the sun when you go outside,” she said before asking me to remove my clothes and helping me into the tub.
As she knelt beside the tub and bathed me, I asked, “Jiraha, what is it that makes the doors open and close?”
“Magic,” she grunted.
“Really? And when I was in the hallway yesterday I detected a wonderful scent. Where did it come from?”
“Magic.”
“Does everything here happen by magic?”
Jiraha sighed and settled back on her heels. “You are a curious one, aren’t you? To be truthful, I don’t believe any of this is magic. But if you ask the Conquerors, ‘magic’ is the answer you will receive. That is what they want us to believe because they want us to think they have special powers which we lack. That is not so. They are men and women just like us. But it would be better for you if you talked of these things as magic unless you want the Conquerors to be suspicious of you.”
“Why would they be suspicious of me?”
“They might think you were hatching some sort of plot against them. Some of them are very suspicious.”
“Is the prince?”
“I do not believe so, but you must be very careful. Now climb out of the tub.”
I did as I was told. As she patted me dry, I thought about what she had said. She sprayed me with scent the way she had yesterday and then dressed me in clean undershorts and robe. Before she went, she asked, “Would you like a scent in this room?”
“That might be very pleasant,” I answered.
“What scents do you like?”
“Citrus ones — lime, lemon, orange ‒ because they will remind me of home.”
“It would be better for you if you forgot all about home. You will never see it again.”
“I will not believe that. I refuse to give up hope. But even if what you say is true, I still want to remember it. It was a happy place full of people I loved.”
“Perhaps, but you must forget all that and adjust to your new life here.”
“But this is just a building full of people I do not know and certainly do not love. I need to keep that love alive in my heart because then I will remember that I too am loved.”
She sighed, nodded, and without saying another word took yesterday’s clothes and departed. Soon, I detected a faint lime scent wafting through the room. I marveled and smiled, picking up my lyre and strumming quietly.
This time when the prince entered, I was facing the door. I stood, knelt, and bowed.
An expression of annoyance flashed across his face and was instantly gone. But he said, “I told you that you did not need to do that when we were alone together.”
“Yes, Zwahe, but I was not sure you were alone.”
“And you should not call me Zwahe here.”
“What should I call you then?”
“Do you know the word ‘ammirus’?”
“No, what does it mean?”
“In our language it means ‘friend.’ From now on when we are alone I shall call you Ammirus, and you must call me the same.”
“But we are not friends. We are enemies. I am your slave.”
“True, you are my slave, but I hope that in time you will also be my friend. There are many examples in our society of masters and slaves becoming friends. Now, do you have a game for us to play?”
“Yes, I can think of a couple, although most of the games I played with my friends need more than two people. Have you ever heard of a game called tengteng?”
“No. Is it fun?”
“It is fun, and it requires a bit of skill. Do you have any chalk?”
He looked confused.
“Chalk is a soft white stone,” I said.
“We have white stones but they are much too soft to be of much use. Is that what you mean?”
“Yes. If you could get some small pieces and perhaps a harder stone about this big,” I said, indicating with my hands what I wanted, “we could play it in the garden.”
“Fine. I shall meet you there in an hour. And bring your lyre; I want to hear you sing again.”
Shortly before the appointed time, I donned my hat and shawl, opened my door, and stepped into the hall, nearly bumping into Hiwah. “Where do you think you are going in that ridiculous costume, brat?” the man demanded.
“To the garden,” I replied.
“You must stay in your room until Zwahe sends for you.”
“Yes sir, I know, but he told me to meet him in the garden.”
“And why would he do that?”
“Because he wants me to teach him how to play like other young people do.”
“What?!”
“That is what he said, sir. He wants me to teach him to play like other young people do.”
“Zwahe has no time to play. He must work at his lessons.”
“But if I do not go, I will be disobeying, will I not?”
“Oh, go ahead,” Hiwah replied, disgustedly, “but if he does not come to the garden, return at once to your room.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied scuttling down the hall. When I opened the garden door, I saw Zwahe waiting for me on one of the fountain benches.
“I thought perhaps you were not going to come, Ammirus. I would have been very disappointed.”
“You told me to come, so I came. Hiwah stopped me in the hall and asked where I was going. When I told him, he said you had no time to play, that you should be doing your lessons.”
Zwahe made a face. “I am tired of lessons. Do not worry. You will not get into trouble. But I do not trust that Hiwah, even though he has been my slave since I was born. He is a sly one. Be very careful with him.” Looking at me, he asked, “Why are you wearing that silly hat?”
“The glare from the sun hurts my eyes. It always has. My grandpapa says it is because I am albino and my eyes do not adjust to light like yours do.”
“And the shawl?”
“Well, my skin is very light, so it burns easily. When I am in the jungle, it is not usually a problem, but out in the open like this, my skin will burn very quickly.”
“I see. Perhaps we should get a pavilion built out here for you.” Then, changing the subject, he said, “I brought the soft stone,” and held it out.
I took a piece and began to draw on the walkway. He marveled, saying his people did not know the stone could be used to draw. I drew two long parallel lines and then joined them, marking them into six segments. The segment farthest from the fountain I made wider and divided into two parts. I did the same with another segment. Then I drew a semicircle joined to the farthest segment and marked it “Sky” and one at the segment nearest the fountain and marked it “Earth”. Finally I showed Zwahe how to stand in the Earth and toss the hard stone into the first square so that it stayed in the square and touched no lines. Then I hopped into each of the squares from Earth to Sky, turned and hopped back, pausing to pick up the stone before landing in Earth again.
Zwahe found this quite amusing and thought it was easy until he tried it. Time after time he touched a line or put down his other foot and had to return to the beginning. But he was persistent and eventually made the circuit twice before stepping on a line. By that time he was perspiring freely, so he suggested that we sit by the fountain.
We each took a long drink from the fountain before the prince said, “Play something for me, Ammirus.”
Taking up the lyre I began another sad song and in a few minutes sang, but the prince could tell that my heart was not in it.
“Why are you so sad, Ammirus?” the prince asked.
“If I tell you, you will be angry.”
“I promise I will not. Remember, I wish to be your friend.”
Sighing I said, “I am a slave. I have been snatched from my family, from my friends, from my home, from everything and everybody I love. And you wonder why I’m sad?”
“But I am your friend, and I am sure the palace is much more splendid than your home.”
“Perhaps, but I do not love you, and I do not love this palace or anybody in it. In fact, I hate you all!” I stood up and walked to a far corner of the garden, where the prince came to me, placed a hand on my shoulder, and realized I was sobbing.
“I am sorry,” Zwahe said. “I did not want to make you sad, and I certainly do not want you to hate me. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
“Send me home.”
“I cannot do that. That would be against our laws. But I hope someday you will learn to like me and to like living here. Perhaps after a time we could visit your village together. I would like to meet the people you say you love.” He thought a moment then asked, “Tell me, can you read?”
I shook my head. “No. I have seen my grandpapa read, and he said he would teach me, but he has not.”
“Then I shall teach you if you will continue to sing for me and play with me. Would that be fair?”
“I suppose so,” I murmured sadly.
“I truly want to be your friend, you know. It seems to me that right now neither one of us is happy or has a friend, so maybe we really need each other.”
I gave no answer.
“I shall leave you now. After our midday meal, I shall come to your room and begin teaching you to read.” The prince left through his private door and garden, while I gathered up my lyre and returned to my room.
As he had promised, Zwahe came to my room in the early afternoon. Sitting at the table across from me, he put down a book and opened it to the first page. Looking at me, he began, “Each letter makes a sound. Do you understand?”
“No. I do not understand what that means. How can something on a piece of paper make a sound?”
“I mean each letter stands for a sound. So ‘a’ stands for ‘ah.’”
“Oh. Always?”
“No. Sometimes it says its name, ‘ā’.
“How do you know which it is saying then?”
“Good question, but stay with me and you will soon understand it.”
I nodded skeptically.
“Now, if you put the letters together and combine the sounds, they make words. Do you understand?”
“Sort of.”
“Good. So, this is the letter ‘a’,” he continued pointing to the letter, made the short sound as in the word pad, and then had me mimic him. Then he repeated the process with “m” and said, “If you put the ‘a’ and the ‘m’ together you get ‘am.’ Understand?”
Again I nodded and made the sounds. Zwahe continued with the letters “m” again, then “i”, “r”, “u” and “s”, giving the sound for each one. Finally he wrote “ammirus” and told me to read it.
When I reluctantly pronounced the word correctly, the prince laughed and said, “Wonderful, Ammirus, you’re reading!”
“Can we do Gemji?” I asked. The prince nodded and taught me the sounds for my new name. Next, he showed me how to write the sounds. I learned quickly and within an hour I could read several simple words and write my name.
The prince laughed again and said, “You are a wonderful student. You will be reading as well as I do in no time. I will leave the book here with you, and tomorrow we can continue. Now we will go into the garden.” I think he was hoping that I would be more cheerful, because he asked me to bring my lyre, but when we were in the garden again, all he could get out of me was another sad song. So the prince practiced tengteng, getting better at it all the time.
Finally he asked me to play the game. I went through the entire game with a stone in each successive square never missing a hop or my target.
“I can see I need more practice,” said Zwahe. “Do you know any other games?”
“Well,” I replied, “If you can get two lengths of rope, each about twice as long as you, I will show you another game tomorrow.”
The prince agreed, saying he would come to my room at the same time in the morning. Then he departed through his private garden. I sat on a bench for a long time thinking. Finally, I took the lyre and played and sang but still only sad songs.
At length, the door to my hallway opened, and Jiraha appeared. When I saw her I immediately stopped the song, but she asked me to go on, so I did, reluctantly.
“I know that song, Gemji,” she said, smiling sadly. “It is such a sad one. Do you know any happier ones?”
I nodded but declined to play them.
“Oh, well,” she said, “perhaps in time you will be able to. Your dinner is ready in your room.”
“May I eat out here?” I asked.
“I do not see why not,” she replied and returned a few minutes later with my plate and my goblet of wine.
I ate slowly, smiling a bit at the thought that I had had more wine in the last day and a half than I had previously had in my entire life. When I finished, I sat staring at the emerging stars. I wondered if my friends and family were also looking at them and thinking of me. Finally, I picked up my plate, my goblet, and my lyre and went to my room where I prepared again for bed.
Lying down, I wept a bit, but less than the day before. I wonder if I will ever be happy again, I thought before at length I slept.