Note to readers: “2200 Blues” is a novel in progress, and each chapter is an early draft in its unfolding journey. Your thoughts and reactions are invaluable, guiding its evolution and refinement. 2200 Blues © 2024 by G.R. Nanda. All rights reserved.
“What are you doing in there, boy?” asked the man. He leaned back and stooped his head through the opening and the shaft, directly facing Nickel.
“Nothing!” Nickel said. His heartbeat was a metronome, its palpitations coursing throughout his skin. His eyes were wide with fear, but he purposely relaxed them, breathing through his mouth. “Nothing, I just got lost in the dark, just slipped because it’s hard to see in here.”
The man scanned the interior of the wind tunnel, shaking his head.
“Hurry up,” he said, waving his hand at Nickel through the opening. He stepped back, pulling his head away. “I wasn’t supposed to wait for you, but I did,” he said. “Everyone else left for the hunt.”
“Are they going down the platform?” Nickel asked, ducking under the opening of the wind tunnel and following the Thraíha back out onto the ringed roof, now awash with more sunlight than when Nickel had entered the narrow tunnels.
“They’ve left the temple,” the Thraíha escorting him out said sharply. “I don’t know where you were when they called after the omen.”
“The omen,” Nickel repeated, attempting to show understanding. “Where did it go?” he asked. “The machine.”
“We’ll find out later today,” said the man in front of him.
“Or this morning,” came the voice of another Thraíha man walking in front of the men Nickel followed. Seeing him and his trailing scraggs of brown hair trailing over his neck, Nickel recognized him as Theren.
“Have you seen the other men?” asked the man facing Theren.
“Our men have all left the temple,” Theren said.
“That’s what I thought,” said the man facing him in a dejected voice. “Why are you still here then?”
“I could ask the same of you,” Theren responded coolly.
“I stayed behind because I escorted him,” the man said, waving at Nickel. “Shouldn’t you be watching the hunt?”
“Akela granted me a special provision,” Theren said. Nickel stood behind the man facing Theren, standing at his side.
“Special provision?” asked the younger man. “The hunting masters agreed to—”
“The hunting masters have been granted a shorter watch,” interrupted Theren.
“By whose orders?” asked the young man.
“By Akela himself,” responded Theren.
“What about Farrul?” Nickel asked.
“Your friend, Farrul, has shown great disinterest in our affairs,” Theren said.
A sinking feeling dripped through Nickel’s chest, coupled with a guilt-laden feeling of triumph and relief that Farrul wouldn’t hinder Nickel’s path.
“And great aptitude for other tasks,” finished Theren.
Nickel’s eyebrows raised, feeling genuine surprise at what he heard.
“Farrul will stay in our farm,” Theren said.
“He’s not out on the plain for the next hunt with the rest of the men?” asked Nickel.
“He has been taken aside,” Theren said. He walked closer to Nickel. “Before you can join the first ranks of our hunters, you must learn to pole the canyons.”
“Pole the canyons?” Nickel asked.
“Yes,” Theren said. “And in order to do that, unburdened by walking, you must reveal what you’ve hidden inside your robes.”
Alarm jolted through Nickel, sending him buzzing with fear. He smacked his lips, opened them, moving soundlessly with fear.
“W-what do you mean?” stammered Nickel.
“The material sticking out of your robes,” Theren said, pointing at the lump protruding from Nickel’s left side against his tunic and his robe. Looking down, Nickel observed that the lump was bigger than he’d first thought. The furry folds of his robe formed against the protrusion of the object, enlarging the protrusion.
“Ah,” exclaimed the young man, turning around to stare at Nickel, frowning. “So that’s why you were in there so long!”
“No!” exclaimed Nickel. “I wasn’t looking to steal anything in there!”
“So, let’s see it then!” said Theren, smiling. He walked closer to Nickel, standing still a few feet from him. He crossed his arms in an expectant pose. The flaps of his sleeves fluttered gently in the breeze.
“Let’s see it,” he repeated, raising his eyebrows. Nickel stood, awkward and undecided on what to do, or reveal from under his clothes, if he should reveal anything at all.
The younger Thraíha man turned on his feet, facing Nickel closer. “Let’s see it, Nickel,” he added in a softer tone, frowning and crossing his arms as well.
“All right,” Nickel husked, chuckling nervously. He rubbed his sleeves, distracting from the hidden book with nervous motions. “I didn’t take it from the wind tunnel.” His own lies smarted as he said it. He suppressed a wince as he felt one arise.
“You came with naught but your ceremonial garb,” intoned Theren in a bellowing voice. “Take it out!”
Nickel’s fingers shook as he buried them underneath the folds of his robe, hiding their fearful shivers as he wedged them under the fur. Not the book. He dared not touch the book pressing across his ribs. It was hidden, concealed by the folds of his robe billowing wider around his hips. He grabbed the knapsack whose edge stuck out at the front.
He pulled the sack out, staring at its brown leather surface instead of Theren or the younger man.
“Hmm!” Theren stepped closer to Nickel, his bulky forehead and his scraggly strands of brown hair looming over Nickel. Nickel met his eyes only after Theren had swiftly removed the article, pulling the small pouch of stone tools out of Nickel’s grip.
Theren squinted at Nickel, thumbing the pouch. He knows I’m hiding the book too.
The younger man scoffed.
“Really?” he asked in a voice of dull disappointment. “Nickel, I didn’t expect you to be thieving. I thought you were the Past Worlder we could count on.”
“Disappointed, but not without indication,” muttered Theren. He smirked lightly, tossing the pouch into the air, catching it, then clutching it close to his chest. He turned away.
Nickel pressed his left elbow deeper into the book pressed against his chest. Wedged just above his hip, where his tunic was tucked into his waist, it was yet to be noticed, or noted upon by either of the two Thraíha.
“I don’t know if I can trust you, or if I should,” Theren started. “But the hunt is not ready for you.”
A mix of feelings rushed through Nickel. He was disappointed at losing the prospects of joining the hunt, but his stolen book went undetected—a priest’s book at that.
“Am I losing my hunting privileges?” Nickel asked.
“Not just your hunting privileges,” Theren said, “but your right of quest—temporary probation period.”
Nickel’s eyes widened.
“But the quest!” he exclaimed.
“The quest can wait,” Theren said. “When I tell the priests—” he waved the pouch that he carried, “you won’t be allowed back in here until you’ve learned your lesson. No rites will be done for your quest until the priests have agreed to it.”
Nickel felt resigned, unresponsive to the news. He slowly pressed his arms closer to his body, together, making sure to conceal his book. He felt a crackle of nervous excitement coursing over his disappointment. Leaving the hunt behind, if he was sent back to the encampment, he could safely hide his book underneath his cot.
Theren started to turn, slipping the pouch under the folds of his robe. He walked across the roof towards the elevator hatch.
“Farrul will do,” he said, turning his head to look at the younger man standing across from Nickel.
“Farrul?” the younger man exclaimed. “He’s to take Nickel’s place?”
“I know Farrul couldn’t tell hawk from an unfriendly Thraíha, but we need a witness from the birthing ceremony. The Huntsman has taken the shape of a gazelle this morning. New beginnings await.”
“If I’m beginning with that boy, I’d rather begin again,” the young man said, turning to follow Theren.
“Enough said,” Theren replied, stepping over the elevator platform, his footsteps thudding and echoing loudly with each step. He bent his knees, squatting next to a lever, pulling it towards the floor. “Lead him to Oreve,” Theren said. The grating of the chugging elevator chains ensued, echoing from below the surface of the roof. “I don’t have time to teach him this lesson, but she can. Be quick, I have a hunt to attend to.”
G.R. Nanda 