ONA
Ona Tames avoided eye contact with the stuffed fox that perched on the schoolhouse master’s desk. She stepped away towards the window of the classroom and saw the sun was shimmering and cumulus clouds were drifting across the azure blanket that hung over the town of Cagwynt. Usually, a fine day like this would raise her spirits, but not this day, and she turned away and surveyed the classroom, scanning over Master Poones’ wildlife drawings hanging on the walls. As she waited for his return, she realized that no matter where she positioned herself in the room, she still felt the eyes of the stuffed fox on her. Master Poones treated it – Filix – like a real pet, or stranger still, like a member of his own family. The fox was frozen in a gaping expression and the look on its face suggested its last moments were spent deep in some intense thought; perhaps considering its next meal, or its mate, or maybe its young – if it had pups. How did it meet its fate, she wondered? Nature could be so brutal and unpredictable – something that always fascinated Ona during her natural science studies. Of course, such a view contrasted with how the Familists wanted everyone to see it. For them, everything was preordained according to the will of the Sacred Family. Their hallowed texts stated – unequivocally – that the realm of people was birthed by the Sacred Mother twelve thousand years ago. The Sacred Father ruled over all and provided for the family, while the Brother played, and the Sister shared her kindness. There was also a multitude of extended Sacred Family members – most created to give meaning to the various unexplained or unpredictable aspects of life. Amongst others, there was a cousin who brought inclement weather, another responsible for bad luck, and an auntie who made people ill. The one everyone most feared was the Wicked Uncle – who brought death and suffering and was said to reign over the island of Moros with his horde of Cadovari. Like the rest of it, Ona believed the existence of the Wicked Uncle to be questionable, but Moros certainly was a real place, and anyone falling foul of the Committee by openly questioning the hallowed texts or existence of the Sacred Family – a crime labelled sinsanguity – was given a one-way trip to the island. This troubled Ona deeply. A literal interpretation of the hallowed texts clashed with what she’d learnt in her studies, and in her view, chance and chaos meant that reality was far more precious without a silly extended family of deities being responsible for everything. But these were thoughts you could not share in public. To do so was to risk being called a sinsanguist by the Committee, and that was a label that stuck. And as the Trintan Familists gained strength, the number of sinsanguity cases increased dramatically. Even more troubling was the way their influence was spreading to other areas of life, like education. Schoolhouses across the region were closing under strict instruction that teaching would only happen in Domols and only under the supervision of the Cognati. The prospect horrified Ona, and she expected the worst as she awaited the return of Master Poones from his discussion with the Familists.
As if prompted, the door burst open, and the fox trembled as Master Poones collapsed in the chair behind his desk and grumbled. “Hock those blasted hornswogglers.”
Ona raised her eyebrows – not being accustomed to the old man using such language. He took out a handkerchief, lifted his glasses and wiped his forehead.
“Discussion didn’t go as well as hoped?” She crossed her arms and leant against the window ledge.
“No, it did not. The Cognati still want to close the schoolhouse and send the children to the ruddy Domol to be brainwashed in their nonsense by their own educators.” He used his fingers to make inverted commas when he spoke this last word.
“Master Poones, I hope you didn’t use language like that with them. The Committee take offence at any derogatory discussion regarding their faith or their methods. You know what has happened to others.”
“I honestly don’t know if I care anymore,” he said. “This whole region is falling apart. It’s the Rix who is ultimately to blame, you know. He needs all the funds he can muster for his wars in the East and to suppress the rebels in the North. Trintan is slowly turning into one big bush plantation and to keep the population compliant and stupid, he allows these buggers to blind it with faith. He stops people thinking and realizing they are merely farm animals doing his bidding to raise revenue for his Court and his military campaigns.”
He reached over and stroked the stuffed fox on his desk. “Filix knows the terrible muck storm we’re in – don’t you, boy?”
Ona looked away, unsure of what to say. She knew all this, of course, and agreed with his sentiments. But what could be done? Between the Rix’s Court and his government, Domonostra, and the high societies of Mandatrev and Luxatrev, the Caputan establishment was extremely powerful. At least she could be proud she hadn’t joined it, the way her mother had, or wanted her to. She could easily have become part of the ruling machinery, but Ona had chosen a different life and had distanced herself from the whole thing as best she could. She wanted to aid the people that really needed help – not hide away in the dinner parties and luxuries of the South, virtue signalling and paying lip service to the injustice and the suffering of the poor and indigent.
“When will they close the schoolhouse?” She said, laying her hand against the wall of the ageing stone building.
“I think I bought us some time, but they will keep pushing and threatening us.”
“You should speak with the City Guards about their threats,” she said, crossing her arms.
“The City Guards were there,” he said. “Heard the whole discussion. There’s nothing they can do because the ruddy Committee have the mandate to do these things. The Cognati are going completely unchallenged.”
“They’re out of control,” Ona said. “People are facing charges of sinsanguity on a daily basis.”
“Wait.” Poones leaned over his desk and positioned his head next to the fox’s muzzle. “Say that again, Filix?”
Ona pinched the skin of her throat as she waited for the insight from the stuffed creature.
“Filix wants to know if your mother could help, seeing as she has the Rix’s ear in Court?”
Ona sighed. “I write to her fortnightly and tell her what is happening, but it makes no difference. I don’t know if she cares, or maybe she’s too focused on her work at the university.”
“I guess there isn’t much we can do at the moment,” Poones said. “Other than keeping our schoolhouse open and the children in attendance.”
Ona dropped her head and a thought came to her. “Speaking of that, I saw Pimmy near the market on Sabaday.”
“Pimmy.” Poones smiled gently. “Such a bright boy. He hasn’t attended the schoolhouse for over two months, has he?”
“No,” Ona said. “When I asked him why, he told me he’s had to sell bread in the market to help make ends meet for the family. His father’s bookshop was closed by the Committee due to sales of inappropriate material.” This time it was Ona’s turn to use her fingers to make inverted commas.
“Inappropriate material,” Poones scoffed. “Meanwhile, brothels are booming, and bush sales go through the roof.”
“Indeed,” Ona said. “They’re not even consistent with their fundamentalism.”
Poones tapped his fingers on his desk. “And the poor boy – that’s the tragic part. So much potential. He could be anything in the human realm with the right support, but he’s selling bread.”
“I told him to come to the schoolhouse when he could, but what can be done when his family are struggling so?” Ona dropped her arms to her sides and felt her hands knot into fists. “I get so angry when I realize there’s nothing I can do.” Unsure of whether she wanted to punch something or break down and cry, she reached into her skirt pocket for a handkerchief to dry the tears forming in her eyes.
Poones lowered his head slightly and cocked it to the side – Filix was saying something again. “He says you shouldn’t blame yourself – it isn’t your fault.”
“I can’t help it,” Ona said. “I came to Trintan to try and help people but I’m failing. I can’t stop a single instance of this injustice. I wanted to be here in the middle of the battle, but it’s not a fair fight, it’s a massacre. It’s futile, and I’m not sure how much more of it I can bear.”
Poones’ eyes went from Ona to the fox, and he started nodding. “Filix says you evidently care a lot, but maybe you should rely more on your brain than your heart. Use your influence and intelligence to implement change. That’s where you can make a real impact. Keep your eye on the big picture – not on individual cases.”
Ona wasn’t sure what to make of this comment. “Right… He’s saying a lot today, isn’t he?”
Poones raised his hands in the air. “He can be quite opinionated at times…”
“…for a dead animal,” Ona added.
Poones recoiled slightly as his eyes widened and his head shook. “We don’t use the d-word around him. He doesn’t like it.”
“Right.” Ona sighed, wiped her eyes, and looked out of the window once again.
