II. The Tallying
July 5, 2024
Thanelin, Hamshak Province
Thanelin, on the eastern coast of Hlenderia, sat at the end of a broad plain that was once forest. From the working docks on the water, the extent of Sacharatanti[1] Bay could be seen, from Promontory Point on the southern end of the harbor to the lighthouse on the northern end, and then the cold waters of the open sea beyond. Thanelin had long had a reputation for ethnic division, even before the government assigned the city and its environs to the Kwari people in 1920. The “Reallocation” had been the high point of a century of Kwari fecundity in the city and that, combined with a Kwari king in the capital and some notions of manifest destiny, ensured that Mūni resentment would only continue to fester.
Back then, two months of riots between the former Mūni caretakers of Thanelin and its new Kwari government ended in the central government dispatching the military to control the situation. Soldiers, mostly Vrotrim from the west of the country, pointing guns at Mūni barricades on behalf of Kwarim: what a bitter pill for the people who were once “first-among-equals” of this Hlenderian national experiment!
Unrest of that caliber had not been seen in Whale-Jump Bay since, though. Yes, lobstermen occasionally clashed, sometimes even firing shotguns at each other’s boats over fishing rights, but this was nothing to call the papers about. For plenty of feuding clans in the interior, that’s what they got up to on a good day.
Census years were a bit rougher, but still nothing like the disastrous winter of 1920. The Traditionalist Kwarim, who controlled Thanelin with the same well-greased machinery they used in a hundred other settlements in the nation, ensured that their armed wing, the Kwari Sportsmen’s Association, turned up at the census office to eyeball everyone in line. In recent years, the Mūni Defense Force, another armed political organization, showed up as well to eyeball the Sportsmen.
Every eight years, scuffles would break out to be broken up by the police. For the natives of Thanelin, it was life. What could be done? No one was going to solve millennia of internecine conflict themselves. Besides, the famed Kwari fertility that had put the city in their hands was beginning to falter. This was the 21st century, after all, and Kwarim did not have a dozen kids like they used to. Perhaps, it was thought, the Mūnim would be back in control like they used to be. In Hlenderia, the ancestor spirits had a way of making everything even out.
Galdesa Cherano and Nehi-dadana[2] Dinadith sat together in a tea-house in the Hawk’s Hill neighborhood, across the street from their local census office. Longtime friends, the Kwari and Mūni women enjoyed going to the census office together every five years. Other than at these times, they rarely thought about the politics of their friendship. In Thanelin, as in so many other places outside Vrotri territory, inter-ethnic friendships were rare, and those involved in them were making a statement whether they intended to or not.
They each carried a small folder containing their birth and lineage paperwork. Nehi-dadana doodled on a napkin between sips of tea, and Galdesa looked out the window of the teahouse. It was a cold mid-winter day, and she repeatedly had to wipe the fogged glass to see across the street. At least two dozen people stood in the cold.
“Hm, the line is not getting any shorter, Nehi.”
Nehi didn’t look up from her drawing.
“I’ve got time, I took the day off from work.”
“How’s the factory?” Galdesa asked.
“It’s the slow season. How’s school?”
Galdesa sighed. “I think the children are getting restless. Vacation next week.”
Nehi looked up with some concern. “I couldn’t do what you do. These kids don’t know their manners. And the phones…” she trailed off.
“I heard that the school board is going to let us ban them during the day next year.”
Nehi looked back down at her doodle. It was turning into a somewhat grotesque caricature of the cashier at the counter. The teahouse’s door opened and rang a small bell attached to the doorjamb. Nehi was sitting with her back towards it, but Galdesa could see it was a tall Kwari woman, perhaps 60, in fine clothes. Galdesa made eye contact with her, and she could see a slight scowl. Then, the woman shook her head.
Galdesa, aware that anyone could see by her friend’s clothes that she was Mūni, was sure that the scowl was because she was sitting with an “ox-herder”. She turned red. Nehi looked back up from her drawing.
“What?”
“That woman that just came in gave me the evil eye.” Galdesa made a sign of blessing over herself, waving her hand in front of her face in a circular motion.
Nehi nodded slightly. When they were children, Galdesa standing up for her was endearing. As the years went on, though, she was beginning to find it slightly presumptuous. She would get especially righteous during every census, and had a tendency to make things worse.
On the other hand, Galdesa, whose namesake was Saint Galdesa of Makaltradi, tried to embody the nature of her spiritual forebear. The story was famous, and recorded in the scriptural book Acts of the Saints. The holy woman had encountered a Mūni hunter on the road who had broken his leg and was freezing. The hunter, who belonged to a clan with whom Galdesa’s was feuding, should have been left to die, but the saint instead gave the man her fur coat and helped him into town.
“Please don’t say anything.” Nehi said. Galdesa seemed to be working herself up into a frenzy, but she sighed and relaxed back in her seat.
“Okay.”
Galdesa wiped her hand on the window again. The line seemed to be a little shorter.
“I think the line is shortening, Nehi. Do you want to go?”
Nehi quickly finished her tea. “Yeah, sure.”
Bundling up in coats and hats, the two women walked towards the door, past the ill-humored Kwari woman, and went outside. They waited for a car to pass and then darted across the street into line.
They had only been waiting in line for a few minutes when they saw a man approaching. He looked to be in his thirties and wore a trim, dark beard. He looked wiry, had dirt on his cheeks, and a cigarette poked out from between his lips. It was obvious from his clothing that he was a member of the Kwari Sportsmen’s Association. He surely had a weapon, Galdesa knew, but it must be concealed.
As he walked down the length of the line, Galdesa could see a pin representing the Traditionalist Kwarim on his scarf. The man walked just past her and paused in front of Nehi.
“Mūni hours start at 6:00pm. Only Kwarim can check in right now.”
Nehi cleared her throat.
“This is the only time I can come.”
“Well, that’s too bad.” the man said, leaning closer. “Only Kwarim can check in right now.”
Galdesa could hold her tongue no more. “You and I both know there’s no such thing as Kwari and Mūni hours!”
Nehi looked at Galdesa and seemed to plead with her with her eyes. If Galdesa noticed, she ignored her friend for her own good. “Leave us alone, or I will call the police!”
The man glared at Galdesa and then looked back at Nehi. “Is this your friend?”
“Yes!” Galdesa interrupted. “You won’t intimidate us!”
The man took another drag from his cigarette, and then tossed it on the ground and stepped on it. The others in line, mostly Kwarim, seemed to back away from the unfolding argument. The man looked down the line towards another man and signaled him to approach.
Galdesa felt anxiety rise in her stomach, but she tamped it down. She reached into her skirt pocket for her cell phone. “I am calling the police. Census intimidation is illegal!”
The man knocked the phone from her hand onto the ground. Nehi tapped her foot and looked around. Looking over her left shoulder, she saw two men in Mūni garb approaching. Ahead of her, she saw two more Kwari Sportsmen walking up the queue. Surreptitiously, she signaled to the Mūni men, who sped up their stride.
The first man seemed to tower over Galdesa, but she did not cower and continued to stare him in the eyes. He reached behind him, towards the small of his back, at what Nehi knew was a weapon. Nearly simultaneously, the man’s two friends and the Mūnim Nehi had signaled arrived.
“Thou wilt leave our sister alone!” one of the Mūni men shouted, using the derogatory informal. He put his arm around Nehi.
“Get out of here, you smell like ox piss!” yelled one of the Sportsman. The first man indeed pulled out a small pistol, and pushed Galdesa towards the wall of the building, turning to face the men. One of the Mūnim withdrew his own pistol from a coat pocket. Those still standing in line scattered, and people from the teahouse across the street were beginning to gather outside to watch.
“Kwarim out of Thanelin!” the man with his arm around Nehi shouted. Galdesa, who had her breath knocked out of her when she was pushed against the wall, was bent over with her hands on her knees. The sound of sirens began to approach.
One of the Sportsmen threw a punch, and then received a punch in return. Nehi extracted himself from the man holding her and went to help her friend. Galdesa quickly picked her phone up, and the two hobbled away as the scene devolved into a general brawl. As a pair of police cars arrived on the scene, there was a loud crack and the man that had initiated the whole fight fell to the ground, clutching his foot.
“I’m shot!”
Officers surrounded the five men and began pulling them off of each other and shoving them into waiting cars. They could hear the screams of the man shot in his foot from up the street.
“You idiot!” Nehi shouted at Galdesa. “You could have gotten us killed!”
“That wasn’t… right!” Galdesa said between breaths of air. “I wasn’t going to let him do that to you!”
“I can take care of myself! I could have come back later!”
Galdesa looked at Nehi-dadana. She was furious and had tears standing in her eyes. Galdesa took more deep breaths and fell back on the wall of the building. “It’s not right.”
Nehi threw her hands up. “Call me when you’re ready to apologize!” she said, walking away.