Blossoming Fruit
The mature woman Vantaiga dutifully dug into her garden. Palm trees overhead protected her and the lush vegetables she tended from Coronus’s withering stare. She leaned back and stretched before wiping the sweat from her forehead. It was hard work to keep the garden healthy in the heat, and no amount of shade trees would change that.
Vantaiga and her garden were nestled between rows of tall desert palms. Next to the garden were a couple of pens for her livestock, also taking advantage of the shade. Beyond the garden, a few small fields of cereal crops waved in green sheets with the breeze. Surrounding the fields, a barrier of tall grasses kept the desert and the dunes at bay.
Next to her garden sat a small mud-bricked dwelling with a thatched roof. It was also shaded by trees. But instead of the tall, sparse palms that only blocked the midday sun, Vantaiga had shaded her house with lush fruit and nut trees. The thirsty roots of the trees dipped into an ever-flowing spring at the foot of the mountain that had almost taken her life as a child.
After escaping slavery, Vantaiga had eventually found her mother and siblings, but she could find no peace of mind being around them or being in the city that held so many bad memories for her. With her hidden secrets of magic and the ways of plants, she eventually earned the resources for a small farm and made her way back to her childhood home.
When Hydar had seen that Vantaiga returned alone to the spring, he restored the flow of water for her. With it, she was able to create her small oasis in a land surrendered to the desert long ago. It was desolate and isolated, but there was also no one here to berate, command, or abuse her. Loneliness was a high price, but she found it was the only way she could pay for her peace of mind.
Vantaiga stood and took in her tranquil surroundings. Through the smells of the grains and the palm trees, a hint of her livestock grazed her nose. The prize of their fertiliser came with its own price. She had heard the birds chatter of sweet-smelling grasses far to the east. Perhaps she would have them bring her some seeds one day.
She turned and made her way to her small home. That was enough work for the day. It was time to prepare a supper: vegetable soup and millet bread with herbs, followed by dates and other fruits. She was keen to try a sweet new orange fruit she had only recently learned to cultivate but had yet to learn the name. Strangely, the birds that brought it to her would only talk about its bright colour and never told her what it was called.
***
Coronus’s eye hung low in the sky with the heat of the day waning. A cool breeze slid down from the mountain to wash over Vantaiga’s farm. Vantaiga herself was warm inside, tending to her supper and the small fire of her oven. Her home was neither elaborate nor small. It was comfortable and functional for someone accustomed to being alone. The cosy home was adorned with potted flowers, trees, and vines, so she was never really alone after all. With so many plants at her close command, she was safe and protected in her vibrant little desert farm.
Her mind drifted as she quietly went about the daily routine of her evening meal. A nagging thought of how nice it would be to cook for someone poked at her tranquillity, but she ritually pushed the thought aside. That would mean travelling to the city she loathed and its cacophony of sounds she hated. It would mean searching among strange men for one that didn’t think she was inferior or wanting to exchange her body for money. It would mean giving up what dignity she managed to gain beneath the solitude of her trees.
Having company would be desirable, but then so was letting her thoughts wander without concern of being harassed. Vantaiga stretched out her mind and let it join with the thoughts of the garden, immersing herself in the quiet calm of the afternoon stillness and the needs of her plants. A small smile crossed her lips. The beans were annoyed at some weeds she had missed. The cabbages of the southern corner were drying, again. There was always something going on with the cabbages.
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She moved her mind over to the fruit trees and thought of how they were doing, before finally letting herself float along the waves of her grain fields. She was free to drift along anywhere her plants touched. There, she could feel their serenity and appreciation for her care. She settled her mind across the field to enjoy the grasses as they cooled and prepared to rest for the evening.
She was only vaguely present in her kitchen when there was a disturbance in her musings. At first, the disturbance registered as little more than the background of her thoughts. She ignored it. But still it persisted in attempting to pull her from her daydreaming. She did not like being disturbed from her mental wanderings and resisted the request for her attention even more.
The disturbance came again. It surged into her awareness and then quickly settled down. Yet it left even more unrest in the back of her mind. It grated Vantaiga’s nerves and threatened her peaceful meditation.
The disturbance returned. This time it thrust itself onto her awareness and grabbed hold of her with a repeated thump. When it released her, she was left with a cacophony of thoughts in the back of her head she could no longer block. In frustration, she brought her mind back to her small kitchen.
She realised the thoughts at the back of her mind were her plants calling to her. Angered by their interruption, she chastised them for bothering her, but the plants insisted. They had something to say. They had to tell her a stranger was here. The disturbance… was a knock at her door.
Fear and a ripple of panic ran through Vantaiga’s body. Nobody came out this way into the desert—there was no reason to. She drew in a breath and clenched the knife she was holding. No, it was too small. She tucked it into a pocket of her dress and looked around at her kitchen utensils. The heavy wooden roller for her bread was more suitable. She picked up the roller and made determined steps to the door.
Any fools that would attack her in her own oasis would be dearly sorry. She threw open the upper panel of her door to glare at the intruder. The vines hanging beside her bristled in anticipation.
Instead of fools or thieves, she was greeted by a lone man who courteously stood back from her doorstep and smiled at her. She paused for a moment; she was not prepared for pleasantries.
By instinct, she unintentionally snapped, “Yes?”
The man’s smile broadened, and his eyes twinkled in the half light of the setting sun. “Hello, ma’am. I’m sorry to disturb you.”
He was a middle-aged man with striking red hair and beard. With his accent and hair, it was obvious to Vantaiga he was not from the desert. She found herself struggling to maintain her coldness towards the stranger, especially with his warm eyes. They were disarming her, and she didn’t like it. “What do you want?”
He replied with a soft voice that pushed Vantaiga even further off guard. “I don’t mean any harm. I am a messenger travelling through, and I was wondering if you could help me.”
Vantaiga suddenly found her annoyance of the intrusion fighting with her long-abandoned need to help others. The strange man’s green eyes and polite manner were not helping her defences either. Her many years of being alone joined the fight against her better judgement. She fought her senses and hardened her composure to snap at the intruder, “How can I help you?”
“I need to deliver a message to a kingdom far on the other side of this mountain range. However, when I tried to cross through earlier today, I found the way so littered with snakes I came back in hopes that you might know of a safer route.”
“You came by earlier today? I didn’t see you pass.”
His smile turned a bit mischievous. “That’s because I didn’t want you to see me.”
Alarm clenched Vantaiga’s chest. “You’re a wizard?”
The man chuckled in surprise. “Oh, certainly no. You just seemed to be enjoying your gardening so much, I didn’t want to disturb you. Normally, I would not have stopped to ask, but it is a long way to go back and around the mountains.”
Vantaiga took a moment to contemplate the stranger. She found his unassuming manner and soft voice refreshing. She allowed herself to relax. Surely someone that could walk by unseen in this barren range would not be knocking at her door if they wished her harm. But still, she needed to find an excuse to turn him away, even if he was the only man she’d met that had been so considerate of her.
As she breathed easily, her tension faded, but the adrenaline remained. It washed her with a sense of energy as it spread from her chest to a warm feeling growing in her abdomen. She found herself trying to stifle a sheepish smile. It was distracting her. She needed to say something to have more time to think of an excuse to get rid of him. “Those mountains belong to the Snake King. It would be foolish to cross them alone.” She cursed herself. That wasn’t going to help.
The man’s demeanour brightened. “Would you be able to help me then?”