CAI (II)
Cai stepped over to the wooden bowl on the dresser and splashed water on his face. He mulled over the idea that had come to him during his moment of panic. Was it really the only way out of his current situation? He straightened and saw a face in the mirror; his resemblance to his father was unmistakable. If he were to leave the human realm at the same age as Cai Senior, would it matter? What would he miss out on, really? Life was the ruddy same, each day of each week of each month of each year. Working all the hours he could to maintain his and Ilsie’s meagre existence. They grew what vegetables they could in the garden to have bland cawp every night. The land he’d acquired from his father was difficult to tame and an undesirable place for most crops. One day, whether in three days, three months, or three years – who really knew – he would fall dead out in those fields. And what of poor Ilsie? He could never give her the children she wanted. An ageing widow living alone, one mile outside of town. They’d probably think she was a witch and the ruddy Cognati would take her away. Wouldn’t that be typical? He wiped his sleeve across his face and rubbed his cheeks, feeling his rough, unshaven skin. As a child, he dreamed of joining the Regum Guards and travelling the realm on adventures, but look at him now: tired, sad, and afraid. Was it too late to change things? He’d tried it before, and it hadn’t worked out. But no, this time, it felt different, change wasn’t just an option, it was necessary, inevitable. If he wanted to remain in the human realm and avoid the cold grasp of the Wicked Uncle, he had to do what Cai Senior couldn’t. Modify or drop dead and die.
He reached up to his hair with his fingers to comb it and lessen the just-been-rolling-about-on-the-bed-crying look. He cleared his throat and opened the door. Ilsie was back at the pot stirring the bland broth that would be their luncheon.
“Back with us now, are you?” She didn’t look up.
“Suppose.” Cai sat down at the table, picked up his pipe, still half full of bush, and lit it with the flame of the candle. Smoking bush was one of the few unifying activities in Caputan. While faith was pushed on everyone, not everyone in the country wanted it or accepted it. But the sweet Gardelan leaf was desired and smoked by people of all colours and creeds in the realm – from the wealthy courtiers, business folk and academics of the south to the ignisat miners in the north; by the fishermen and the keepers of the High Domol in the east to the farmers, brothel owners, and anyone who could afford it in Trintan. Despite its popularity – and many attempts otherwise – the plant only grew in the Gardelas. Accordingly, demand never failed for farmers who produced the crop. Cai’s farm was one of the few that hadn’t taken it up – his father never wanting to be a bush farmer, adamant that those who were lived in the pockets of the Rix and the bastard blackguards of Pentan. Not even the Cognati – who regularly espoused the virtues of growing bush – could help change his mind, and he maintained a secret loyalty to the old gods and rejected their attempts to get him to follow in the footsteps of the Sacred Father. But in so doing, Cai’s father also rejected a steady source of revenue – severely limiting the potential of his farm and the prosperity of his family. Cai had always known this, but inside, something stopped him from admitting that his father was – in actual fact – wrong. He filled his lungs with the warm, sweet smoke of the burning leaf and realized his perspective on the matter had shifted and the idea that’d come to him minutes earlier really was the only way forward. Change it was to be. Modify or drop dead and die. As he stared at the glowing red embers in the stummel of the pipe, he noticed Ilsie glaring at him.
“Seriously, Cai. Smoking at this time of day?”
Cai cleared his throat. “I know what we have to do,” he said, ignoring her comment.
“Dearest Family, what is it now?” Ilsie narrowed her eyes.
With a growing grin on his face, he spoke. “We’re going to sell the sheep and grow bush.”
Ilsie’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“You heard me,” he said and maintained the smile.
“Change everything? Again?” The nostrils were flaring once more. “Are you mad?”
“I might have been, but right now, I feel saner than I’ve felt in a very long time.” He inhaled more of the sweet smoke.
Ilsie stared and spoke through gritted teeth. “But change everything? We haven’t had the sheep a full year yet.”
“We – I – need to change something otherwise, I swear, I am not long for this world.”
Ilsie had a look of disbelief on her tired face. “You can’t be serious. In the last five years, it’s been one thing after another. We had dairy cows but you didn’t like the way they looked at you…”
“Sad eyes…” Cai mumbled with the pipe in his mouth.
“Then we had pigs,” she said. “But you got too attached, and we couldn’t send them to the slaughterhouse.”
“Lovely animals… can’t believe you sold them.” Cai had given names to each of the pigs, and there was no way he could send them away to be made into sausages.
“There was our foray into growing vegetable crops; blood neeps and night onions, which you decided no one would want…”
“Only veg that would take in this soil, and they really were disgusting – no cooks would’ve had them in their kitchens…” His eyes moved to the pot as he said this. Another bowl of cawp really didn’t appeal to him at that moment, but he knew the bush would give him enough appetite in a short while to swallow the ruddy stuff.
“Oh, and the brown beans that succumbed to mudflies…”
“Not my fault…”
“That brings us to the grindor sheep. Their wool was meant to be the saviour of our farm…”
He gestured to Ilsie with the pipe. “That was your idea.”
“It still is a fine idea.” Ilsie straightened her back and sat up in her chair.
“Except when they drown in the river.” He tapped the ash from his pipe into a small cup on the table.
Ilise cocked her head to the side. “Is that what set you off? Did we lose one of the sheep? Sacred Mother wept, Cai. That is why we needed insurance. You said you were going to make arrangements in town; to make sure we weren’t at risk after the brown bean crops were destroyed.”
“Well, I forgot,” Cai said, shrugging.
There was a moment of silence and Ilsie returned to stirring the broth in the pot over the fire. She shook her head silently, but he could see she was thinking it all through. It seemed he’d made it over the first barrier. This was always how it went when he proposed something new. The first barrier was always the hardest to clear. Now he would just wait for her next words.
“But why consider bush now – after all these years? I thought you and your family were against it?”
“My father was dead against it, but I’ve realized he was wrong. Very wrong. He had peculiar views on many things, and this was one of them. I can’t be like him. I just can’t.”
“Is that what this is? You don’t want to be like him? You don’t have to keep changing everything to avoid that, Cai. Changing the way you think and act is much easier than changing the things around you.”
“It’s not just that, it’s practicality as well. Wool, produce, dairy – it all comes in and out of favour but bush, well the demand for bush hasn’t waned in years. Surely you must approve – your man, the Cognatus, that fat hock in the Domol, is always droning on about it.”
Ilsie’s face changed, and she hurled the cawp-covered spoon at Cai, and he swiftly moved his head to avoid it.
“How dare you use your sinsanguine words to refer to Cognatus Hamrey like that,” she said. “I should report you to the Committee myself. See what they think of your ideas.”
He picked up the spoon and leaned over to hand it back to his wife. “I don’t mean to speak badly of him. He’s the one telling us it’s the right thing to do; always on at us that it’s what the Sacred Father decrees. To grow bush, help the ruddy realm, and provide for the family. This is me trying to provide for ours.”
Ilsie dropped her head. “It just seems like another fad – a passing idea that you’ll get bored with, and this time next year we’ll be discussing Puckwind turkeys or nop berries.”
Cai looked at the jugful of nop juice on the shelf and tensed his jaw. “No fear of us growing nop berries – ruddy juice tastes like pig’s piss.”
He took a long drag on the pipe and repeated himself. “This is different, Ilsie. I feel different this time. I know it’s the right thing to do. Cai Senior was wrong about bush, and the more I think about it, the more certain I am.”
She shook her head. He could see she was getting there. “How will you do it though? Bush is different to animals or other crops. Needs more expertise. Irrigation and such. If you don’t do it right, you’ll end up wasting more of our money.”
“You’re right. That’s something I’ll need to learn about. Fortunately for us, I know of someone who has the expertise and would be very willing to help.”
“Your brother? But you two haven’t spoken in over a year.”
“Well, I think it’s time dear Rolo and me made amends.” Cai attempted to blow a smoke ring, failed, and started laughing, which then turned into a cough. Ilsie muttered something under her breath, but she would see. He was right about this. Modify, or drop dead and die.
