Lonethorn

Naturally, I was despondent. Having learned that my own mother was giving me up to my uncle's care drained me all of the usual vigor a boy of eight should have. I was beginning to learn the nature of change, the only forever constant in life, slowly chipping away at the innocence of my childhood as it was.

In my own little way, I rebelled at my mother's decision at leaving me to my uncle's care. I refused to smile, lethargic in whatever activity she tried to rope me in. She never said anything. She knew were I was getting at. Merely took all my minor temper tantrums with a sad but stoic resolve. From what I garnered from the occasional conversations I can overhear before my uncle had me set off to one chore or the other; when mother had came of age, she made no secret of her intention of ever returning to Sorez, resolving on venturing out into the wider seas and the open world. Something about a rather difficult childhood under their parents roof. From the hints and pieces I can find, I found myself grateful that I have not had the pleasure of meeting my grandparents, them being having long since passed on.

Uncle Arnao, their firstborn, was considered to be far kinder in contrast to them.

Uncle Arnao laid down the rule of law under his roof, plain and simple. I remember not soon afterward that initial greeting, he had me sat down and looked me in the eye. Mother cleaned up the plates and cups and busied herself in the kitchen as uncle had a "man to man" talk with me (his actual words, not mine). With him I never even dared nor thought to throw a tantrum. His evergreen glare was severe enough to blow whatever childish impulses I had reserved only to my mother. Crying outbursts would not work on the man, this I instantly deduced from the very first moment I laid eyes on him.

His rules were not many, nor were they unreasonable.

First thing was to wake and rise before the sun do. Much of the Sorezii woke up in the dim gloom that strikes the world, a cold blue film as the night slowly bled away giving way for what passes as sunrise in the greyed overcast skies of Sorez. He taught me how to stack the woods and kindling proper, to give them a decent airflow and good strong fire. As well as how to knead the dough for the morning fast and pair it with some cured bacon and steaming hot mallaca. Uncle Arnao can be stern and domineering, watching over me work with an executioner's level of intensity. Those first few instances working under him were nerve wracking but did them I had. I had a glimpse as to how my mother learned her craft of housecare back in our loft in the Tower. She never ordered me to clean the house, it was a ritual she herself conducted and maintained while it left me to do as a child pleases playing around and being tutored without a care in the world.

That was not the case beneath Arnao Serrano's roof. Everyone pulls their weight. Truth be told, it was out of fear and feeling out of place in the tall man's house that fueled my eagerness to learn and do my chores. My mother had warned me that back in their youth, Arnao Serrano became a third parent to the Serrano brood. My grandparents had placed great responsibility on him, the firstborn, to maintain discipline and care amongst his siblings ( a trait almost all of Sorez implements in their households it seems). Laziness and insolence was beaten out of the young Sorezii children with an almost semireligious zeal at the time.

I will say this though, Uncle never put me in a chore that was beyond my abilities nor did he hit me (unless I did something egregiously stupid, which I did aplenty as I approached my teenage years but I'll get to that later).His instructions were said loud and clear, not in an unkind manner nor a condescending tone. In his eyes, I was already my own person, rather than an eight-year old child in need of tender love and care.

After breaking fast each morning, before the first light of day, we prepared to venture into the city proper and the markets within. To stock up on the day's meals. Uncle took the reins after he showed me how to attach the horses to his very own kalesa and it was off to the markets. Mother simply trailing behind us as my uncle took me under his wing. We visited the markets. Plural. All the while my mother took a backseat to the proceedings. Merely watching with an amused, if not nostalgic look in her eyes at times while at other times giving commentary here and there to supplement my education at the ways of my motherland. We round our way on the cobbled path into the grey city, amidst sloping roads and steep inclines that so marked the outskirts of the city.

As we passed by people nodded and greeted at the direction of my uncle with jovial smiles.

"Morning consejo," they would say. Uncle only ever replied in a stiff nod here or a simple grunt there. The people did not seem taken aback. Mother had to hide a smile for some reason as she watched. I asked my mother what they mean as Uncle began chatting up a man that had strode up to him with a weaved basket full of grocer and vegetables. It was common politeness to greet a neighbor but when four out of every five people took the brief time to say their greetings it raised a flag of curiosity in me. It was a clear mark of high regard and respect.

"You uncle is a counsel. An attorney of the law. Amazing really, considering our circumstances as we grew up," my mother informed me as we browsed the freshly caught fish from the Grey Sea. I looked then at the old man. My fear was freshly given at the first instance of our meeting. Now it was filled with equal parts awe and respect. Mother and uncle merely alluded to a difficult past in their childhood and to see them now strived above that poverty filled me with pride then. Days would pass and indeed I did see Arnao Serrano conduct his affairs as a counselor of the Courts of Sorez. He would wear a great leather overcoat of fine make. It was not a gaudy piece of clothing, that was not Arnao Serrano's way. It was utilitarian in use and signified his profession. But even without the greatcoat he struck an imposing figure, standing amongst the tallest Sorezii and with that ever present glare his face was set in made for an unforgettable presence. His place of work was located some distance within the city center where much of the administrative affairs of the city take place.

My mother would take his place and show me how to care for the house, particularly the gardens behind as she toiled the earth, gave the crops in uncle's garden manure and weeded out the undesirables.

It was.....calming work to say the least. Slowly but surely, the sudden thunderstrike of change was easing its way into my spirit, the supposed wound closing up as I began to acclimate and accept my predicament.

I realized now, looking back, that I was merely deluding myself. I had thought that this would be the new normal. That my mother had merely changed her mind about abandoning me to my uncle as she travelled the expanse of the horizon. That she had overcome whatever internal want that she had over me, her own flesh and blood.

Childish delusions, really.