For Whom the Sun Sings Page 3

  A grin spread across Andrius’s face.

  “I can hear your stones just as easy as anyone’s. Five stones.”

  “What?” Herkus exclaimed. Adomas reached down and counted off the stones for all present.

  “One, two, three, four, five. The boy’s right.”

  Aleksandras beamed, and those who had bet on Andrius cheered.

  “That is impossible!” Herkus growled. He stood up sharply and pushed past Adomas’s arm. “You cheated!”

  “How could he have cheated, Herkus?” Aleksandras said. “You were right in front of him the entire time. The boy has magic ears.”

  Herkus spit. “Magic ears or not, he cheated somehow. Those stones were silent.”

  The men who had bet against him laughed and teased him. Aleksandras also joined in the fun.

  “He is unbeatable, Herkus, you fool! Your confidence isn’t so helpful now, is it?” He chuckled. Andrius kept his eyes on Herkus’s increasingly bitter scowl as the large man marched around to where Aleksandras sat and gloated. “Now when will I be receiving your chickens, Herkus the Brash? I have so many now, but two more will be wonderful.”

  Herkus grabbed Aleksandras by the front of his clothes and shook him. He pulled him violently to his feet.

  “Close your trap, you old fool; you’ll get nothing from me!”

  Andrius stood up and cried out. “Let go of him!”

  Herkus ignored him. No one else intervened.

  “Why would I give my chickens to a spineless woman like you, Aleksandras? Your boy may have won this stupid game, but you are still a useless excuse for a man.”

  “Stop that!” Andrius shouted. “Hit him, Papa!”

  The other men froze, waiting for the outcome of the exchange.

  It was Herkus who spoke next. “Remember, old man. My boy Viktor is strong, a talented musician, and he has the memory of an elephant. Your boy will never be anything more than a cheap trick.”

  He shoved Aleksandras back into his seat and spit on him. To Andrius’s great shame, Aleksandras’s only response was to cower.

  “Come along, Viktoras,” Herkus said.

  Andrius shook as they left. In short order all of the others shuffled on as well, their canes creating a discordant symphony as they slid and tapped along the ground.

  Finally they faded in the distance down the road, and Andrius and his father were left alone.

  The fire was dying upon its embers, but Aleksandras remained where he was, curled up and cowering. Andrius held his eyes on him a long time.

  With a sigh and a shake of his head, Andrius went to his father and helped him sit upright. He scratched at Aleksandras’s whiskers with his hand.

  “Magic ears,” Aleksandras whispered. He smiled. “Well done, my boy.”

  “Let’s go, Papa. It’s cold.”

  Aleksandras nodded.

  “Yes, yes, it’s cold. You did it, my boy. Magic ears.”

  Andrius quietly collected his things, taking a sip of his water and putting his offering under his arm. He walked back to his father and they began to make their way home along Stone Road.

  “Yes,” Aleksandras said, “you’re a special boy, Andrius.”

  “Let’s go home, Papa.”

  “All right. Let’s go home.”

  “Pay attention now. Pay attention. Your break is past and we have to resume.”

  Andrius sighed from where he sat in the branches of the spreading tree. He had not played with the other children during their recess. No one had invited him. Milda had talked with him briefly, but they only ended up arguing.

  “Settle down,” the instructor spoke again, clapping his hands. “Take a seat, fun time is through. Settle down and call out for roll again so I know you’ve all returned.”

  Andrius did not want to go back down. Viktoras might hit him again and no one ever seemed to notice. Besides, his mind was another place. The wind gently tousled his fine hair and he listened to the music of the crown of mountains, guarding him like sentinels in the place beyond the barrier. And the sun! It sang magnificently today. All he could do was listen in awe and let it warm his soul.

  He definitely wasn’t climbing down.

  “Berena.”

  “Viktoras.”

  “Milda.”

  “Runas.”

  The other children faithfully called out their names as the instructor nodded. When there were no more names to be said, the instructor paused. Andrius was daydreaming and listening to the sun.

  “I don’t believe I heard Andrius’s name. Did he wander off?”

  “No, Teacher,” Andrius replied from up above. He was bored with the class today. They would be learning reading skills again. It had been exciting when they first learned, but they stayed on the basics long after Andrius had picked it up. Reading was something that he was actually good at. All of the other kids had to run their finger across the page as they read, but Andrius didn’t need to.

  The instructor turned his head, piqued.

  “Andrius, where are you?”

  “I’m up here,” he answered. “I can listen from up here.”

  Suddenly the instructor’s face was aghast and the children began murmuring.

  “You mean to tell me that you’re . . . you’re up in the tree?”

  The children were really talking now. More than a few gasps were uttered. Andrius was confused. He swung his legs where they dangled off the large branch.

  “What’s wrong with that? I can hear you from here. I’m not up too high, only halfway.”

  The instructor stood up and approached the base of the old tree.

  “Andrius,” he said gravely. “I’m not mad at you, but you need to do as I say. Slowly, take your time, you need to feel your way down from that tree.”

  “I can’t believe he’d climb a tree!” Berena whispered loud enough for the whole group to hear.

  Andrius furrowed his brow as he shifted on the branch.

  “But why, teacher? I won’t cause any trouble up here.”

  “Blizzard and silence, Andrius! Are you so dull? It’s dangerous, stupid, and reckless. Do you want to break your neck? Or an arm or a leg? Or your spine?”

  They were reacting very strongly. Andrius did not understand why. He climbed trees all the time.

  He turned back one last time at the meadow beyond him, the thick swath of woods on all sides, and the proud mountains in the distance. He began to climb down.

  “I don’t get why I have to come down,” Andrius grumbled to himself.

  With a little leap, Andrius left the tree and his feet thudded to the ground. The children gasped, making Andrius tilt his head up and scratch it self-consciously.

  “He’s crazy,” Milda whispered.

  “Idiot,” Viktoras muttered.

  “It isn’t that big of a deal,” Andrius protested, hesitantly walking to where he had set his things. His throat felt suddenly dry, so he picked up his wooden pitcher and took a long drink.

  The instructor shook his head.

  “Andrius, for better or for worse, you are one of a kind. Now do me a favor and never do something like that again. Let’s not toy with death until we have a little more experience with life, hmm?”

  Andrius sat down on the grass and twisted his cane absentmindedly in his hands.

  “Yes, Teacher.”

  The instructor began droning on, and Andrius found his attention slipping away. He didn’t see what the big deal was about climbing a tree during break. The instructor passed out reading sheets, but Andrius was more interested in the meadow and the forest and the mountains beyond. A cloud drifted lazily across the sky. The children laughed at a joke that Andrius had missed. He was in his own world. The tall grasses swayed gently in the wind, harmoniously to the sun’s music.

  Something caught Andrius’s attention. Way off in the distance, did he hear something?

  Forgetting about everyone around him, he stood up. His eye caught a flash of movement at the forest’s edge.


  “Andrius?” the instructor asked. “Andrius, I’m waiting for the answer. You are behaving most strangely today.”

  The boy’s focus did not waver. There was definitely movement.

  He ran to the tree suddenly, without thinking, and began to clamber up it.

  “Andrius? Andrius! What are you doing?”

  It might mean severe punishment, but Andrius couldn’t think of that now. His hands reached up, one after the other, taking hold of alternating branches and pulling himself higher. If he was right, this was more important.

  “Andrius!” the instructor shouted. Now he was angry.

  “I heard something, Teacher.”

  Andrius’s head emerged from the canopy of leaves and there it was. The meadow spread out before him in the dazzling song of the late afternoon sun. At its edge, just outside of the forest, was where Andrius had noticed movement. He knew for sure now that it was not just his imagination.

  “There’s a man out there! Past the barricade!”

  The children reacted excitedly, chattering among themselves.

  “How can you tell?” asked Runa, one of the duller students in his age group.

  “I heard him!” Andrius replied.

  The figure in the distance was in bad shape. His path was stumbling and erratic. Andrius was the only one to notice him stumble and fall.

  “Where is he?” Berena asked while the instructor tried in vain to restore order.

  “Past the barricade. He’s probably a whole road away!”

  “Andrius,” the instructor huffed, turning his attention back to the impetus of the upheaval. “Get out of that tree this instant!”

  Andrius was already in the air. His feet met the ground softly.

  “He needs our help!”

  “Andrius, this is so unlike you. Come back here and listen to me!”

  But someone was hurt. Andrius was running toward the fallen man as fast as his legs could carry him. Usually he would shrink back at his teacher’s instruction, but he knew that the man that he noticed, that nobody else did, needed help. Did not even the Prophet himself say that helping others was their primary occupation? For a better village.

  “Follow me!” Andrius hollered. “I won’t be able to carry him by myself.”

  Several of the children took up their canes and went shuffling after Andrius. The instructor, realizing that there was no stopping them, went along and urged caution.

  “Andrius!” they shouted, but he was far ahead of them now. “Andrius! Where is he?”

  “This way!” he cried. The grass whipped against his legs as he ran, and more than once he choked on pollen. He couldn’t hear the man any longer, only what was right in front of him. Birds scattered as he sprinted.

  Reaching the edge of the wood, Andrius stopped.

  The man was right there in front of him, only a few body lengths away, but he was on the other side of the barrier.

  “Andrius!” he heard his instructor call amidst the clamor of children. They were still hundreds of steps back. “Where are you?”

  “Over here!” Andrius shouted. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Follow the sound of my voice!” He waved in a grand motion, then turned back to the barrier and the strange man on the other side of it.

  His skin was burned and his clothes were dusty. He had collapsed facedown, which was not a good sign. Andrius hoped desperately that the man could breathe. He wanted to help him.

  A crazy thought came into Andrius’s mind, but he dismissed it quickly.

  “Andrius?”

  “I’m just over here,” he called to his instructor and his classmates as they parted the grass and tapped around with their canes.

  Andrius had forgotten his cane. Again.

  “He’s on the other side,” Andrius said simply.

  “How did he get out there?”

  “Is he a hunter?”

  “Of course he’s a hunter, stupid.”

  “Children, please!” The instructor was thinking.

  “I don’t think he’s a hunter,” Andrius mumbled, self-conscious again.

  Viktoras hit the boy standing next to him.

  “Of course he isn’t a hunter if he’s on the other side of the barricade. Stupid.”

  “He has a big pack,” Andrius said, noting the large hump that covered most of the stranger.

  “What do you think is in it, Andrius?” Milda asked, stepping forward and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Can you hear what’s inside?”

  Andrius frowned and took a step away. Milda tattled on him yesterday.

  “I don’t know. Food probably. And clothes.”

  The instructor was still thinking while the children gaped.

  “I think he needs help,” Andrius offered.

  “I know, Andrius, hush. Now let’s think . . . How far away would you say he is?”

  Andrius considered.

  “Three feet?”

  “Too far to reach, then?”

  The children nodded. The instructor tapped his lip.

  “Problem-solving time, children. How are we to help this man?”

  “Send someone for rope!” Berena’s crystalline soprano rose above the chorus of mostly useless suggestions.

  “Mm, I think we can do better than that, but perhaps. Someone needs to be informed, at any rate. Viktoras, can you find your way back? Get some rope and tell the Regent of Brick what’s happened.”

  Viktoras hesitated and kicked at the dirt.

  “There’s no path.”

  “The wind was in our face the whole way here. Put it at your back and move. It isn’t too far.”

  Still he hesitated. “I’m scared, Teacher.”

  With a sigh, the instructor asked for a volunteer to join Viktoras. A small boy named Paulius offered, and the two of them set out on their mission.

  “Any other ideas?” the instructor asked.

  Andrius couldn’t take his eyes off of the man. A fly was buzzing around his head, then landed in his hair. The stranger still did not move.

  “Teacher,” Andrius said softly. “Do you think I might, I mean, since he is in trouble and all, just this one time . . . I mean, it wouldn’t be hard. It’s only a couple of big logs, and I wouldn’t even need to climb, really. Could I—”

  The instructor was horrified. The children were silent.

  “Andrius,” the instructor began gravely. “You aren’t seriously suggesting that you would cross the barrier, are you?”

  Shame filled Andrius, but he turned back to the helpless man again. The fly was crawling on his ear now.

  “But . . . but he’s only right there. He could be dying.”

  “And he could not. But if you pass this barrier, he’ll still be dying and you could die too! Andrius, we are forbidden from the Regions of Death for a reason! I’m surprised at you.”

  A few birds tweeted nearby and insects clicked from their hiding places in the grass. Andrius hung his head, and all of the people there with him stood in helpless quiet, until finally Berena spoke up again.

  “We could use a cane.”

  The instructor drew back the corners of his mouth thoughtfully.

  “Hmm. That could work. Andrius, do you think we can reach his straps with a cane? His pack does have straps, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, teacher.” Andrius nodded vigorously as he borrowed Milda’s cane and jumped up on the lowest tie that made up the barrier fence. It was about two feet above the dirt. The man should fit under it easily. They might have to get him on his side to accommodate for the pack.

  “Andrius, here,” the instructor said. “Use my cane; it’s longer. Guide it into the straps and I will pull him in.”

  Andrius traded canes, and then he gently prodded the unconscious man. The fly buzzed away, but the man was still motionless. Andrius leaned over the barrier as far as he could and attempted to work the cane under the straps, trying to brace it somewhere.

  “Did he do it?” one of the kids asked from the back of the small crowd. />
  “Not yet,” the instructor patiently replied.

  Andrius leaned over so far that he was balancing his torso on top of the barrier now. The cane kept slipping out, but an idea occurred to him. There was a little loop on the top of the pack. Andrius fitted the far end through, then dipped over just a little more and put the near end through the middle of the barrier. It seemed like it might work. They didn’t have to move him far.

  “Here you go, teacher,” he said proudly. “Like a lever. Keep the far end up and pull him in.”

  The instructor took the cane wordlessly and began the laborious task.

  It was rough going as the stranger was full grown and wearing a heavy pack. The cane slipped out of its hold several times and Andrius had to reposition it, but finally the instructor got the man close enough to the barricade that he could reach through and get a hand on his clothes. He and the children heaved him through to their side, to rescue, civilization, and life.

  The instructor, who was not as strong as he liked to fancy himself, sat down in a heap after the man was through. Everyone who had helped was breathing heavily.

  Andrius cautiously approached the man and pushed him onto one side.

  He studied the man’s face.

  He was a young man, of marrying age no doubt, but perhaps he did not yet have many children. A bandana was tied around his forehead, soaked with sweat. His eyes were closed.

  Andrius leaned in close. He was breathing.

  “If I,” the instructor began, pausing every few words for breath, “take him by the . . . arms. Can three of four . . . of you . . . carry him by . . . the legs?”

  Andrius turned to the unconscious man again and patted his chest.

  “You’re going to be okay. We’ll help you.”

  The children and their instructor brought the strange man to the house at Eighteenth Brick, falling down several times along the way. Andrius had never been around Zydra and Stephinius before—the people who lived in the house at Eighteenth Brick. He had heard of them, of course, being so close to where he attended lessons. They were a young couple with two small boys, making their living by raising cartwheel flower on the outskirts of the village and supplying Gimdymo Namai with ingredients for the cure.

  The house was full of dust. Zydra cleared the wooden table with an arm, sending everything clattering to the floor, and they laid the strange man on the table. The instructor was going about the business of removing the man’s sizeable and heavy pack when Stephinius chased all of the children out of the house.