I began to consider how many complex things I had thought about over the last several days. Our departure from Kapabaj, the ilnarvattar, shame, the Hakol-Pata and right and wrong, the Almorstines and the Qhalam, and challenges to my own belief system. They were so many that I had not given the simple things thought in some time. Did I even need them anymore? I began to recall them again, but I did not think any further than the first one that came to my head: Yakko at the sinedratha on the University Chapel. I could not think of any more simple things, because this had once again become complex. Nidath had mentioned that my actions shamed my brothers. Etiar had said that he owed a debt to my brothers that had been paid through me. Was I such a drain on the Poniubiress name? Did they give everything they had, only to have me take? Even Anzidrion, who had spent his days sleeping while Yakko labored on his behalf, had given more than I had. What would Yakko think of me when he returned?
This, of course, was a painful question, for I knew the answer. He would see me in this condition and say that he understood why it had been so, but he in his heart, he would be deeply disappointed in me. He had risked his life and gone on a journey many miles away, sometimes through treacherous territory. Was it not too much to ask that I take a bit of action while he was gone?
What if Yakko had died? What if he had been assassinated by Kapbaji Hihaytheans while in Grontinion, or been kidnapped and executed while on his return to Ilepya? Who would reformists look to then? Of course, there were many other activists and heroes in Hihaythea, but what would happen if I were all that was left of the Poniubiress family? Three brothers as martyrs of the revolution, and the fourth as the martyr of his own fear. The citizens of Ilepya needed me to carry on where my brothers had left off. My family needed me, besides, as the revolution and reform would have to be finished and won, lest all of my relatives die in vain.
Kapbaji was inaction caused by ignorance, and ilnarvattar was inaction caused by mental exhaustion or complacency, and I felt as though I had just bested them both. I knew better than to be ignorant or complacent now. But what of physical exhaustion? I was in no state to take to the streets, or to organize anything at all that might best the enemies of the reform! What was I to do?
Then I lifted up the blanket and peered down at my bare body. I was covered in sores, and if I tilted my body just to the left, I could see a large bruise near my right hip. But what else? Considering how much time I had spent idly, I had not wasted away or lost too much of my flesh. Yes, my legs and belly were certainly lesser than they were two weeks ago, but it was not as if I looked like an old street woman during a famine! I was able-bodied! I could benefit from a few good meals, but otherwise I was just fine. In fact, I had demonstrated a few remarkable signs of revitalization over the past few days. I had freely spoken and shouted words and sentences, I had moved my limbs with very little obstacle and even lifted my body into a seated position. Surely, returning to the streets would first take retraining my body on how to walk and carry, but I was still young, and would learn again easily.
In order to best that old flaw of mine, whereby I considered an action as long as possible before I actually took it, I decided right then that there was no use in considering it more. I spun my body to the left and draped my legs over the side of the bed. Then I planted my feet on the ground and took a moment to steady myself and take a breath. I was still dizzy from the Hakol-Pata, but I was determined not to let it hold me back. I placed my palms on the side of the bed and used all of the strength in my arms to propel myself onto my feet. I began to sway forward, but I thought quickly, and placed my right foot forward and underneath my body, in order to catch myself. I glanced down at my feet to ensure that they were still steady, and I noticed that my member had, once again, become slightly enlarged, and had decided to become active along with the rest of me. This time, however, I did not feel embarrassed, and I chuckled at the irony. “You shall not shame me today,” I said to it, “for I have more complex things to do.” Slowly, fighting the dizziness and the fatigue and the cold, I took steps toward the old bureau in the opposite corner of the room. Once there, I outfitted myself with a sturdy pair of trousers, a thick shirt and a wool winter coat.
No comments:
Post a Comment