The Butterfly Effect

It was mainly a blur, at this point.

“We’re going to be staying with them for a little while,” his mother explained, softly, as if it really mattered to him.

Even back then, he knew he thought, Aren’t we staying with them already? But he said nothing, just giving her a simple nod.

He didn’t find it strange that his parents never told him what had led them to serve Lord Tyrus. They were good friends—that much was clear, even when he knew so little. What he did often wonder was why they still stayed, despite it all, when it eventually came down to it.

…

The initial announcement didn’t faze him: “We’re going to be traveling, by Master Tyrus’s request.”

He hadn’t look up from what he was doing or show a sign of interest. They’d gone on trips like these before and he assumed he’d never be invited.

Until they added on, “And we’re going to bring you with us.”

Consider. A five-year-old boy, traveling for the first time anywhere more than a few hours away from home. Not only that, he was going deeper into Solaris territory—the capital, in fact. What was the first thing this boy did?

He “lost” his parents among the bustling crowds, in order to see the sights for himself. The thought of running into trouble, or being unable to find them again, had never crossed his mind. He’d been taken captive by the atmosphere of the night market, where the mutters of merchants and clients kept it from ever being quiet.

In fact, he was so distracted by it, he hardly acknowledged that a girl on the other side of the street had just pickpocketed someone. It was only when their eyes met that he realized exactly what he saw, she knew that he’d seen her, and she ran back into the alleyway.

He didn’t know why, but he found himself compelled to cross the street and into that alleyway. Even though the lights of the street barely reached here, it didn’t take him long to figure out where she’d hidden. It would’ve been obvious even if she’d not chosen to hide behind a box smaller than her, or she wasn’t on the verge of crying.

Only years later did he muse how odd it must’ve been, to have just witnessed her commit a crime, yet casually sit down in front of her and say, “Hi, my name’s Jimar! My parents are here on a super important business trip. Who are you?” Only as an afterthought he added: “What were you doing?”

“I’m Tandi,” she said slowly, after a moment. “I—I know it’s wrong, but I…” She looked from the pocket change in her hand, to Jimar, to somewhere deeper in the alley.

Then, without another word, she stood up and darted away.

…

Of course his younger self barely understood the situation. He told his parents about it casually, and watched as their expressions changed into something more. Only then did he realize that the girl was no one random, but a person that could be helped. Once he knew that, he was more than willing to show them where he’d met her, and pointed her out when he saw her again.

She must’ve been terrified to have recognized him and when his parents asked her questions. But she understood it all the moment they said they wanted to help—that they were servants of a lord and thought they might be able to have her come back with them. She showed them where she lived.

Jimar was only in the place once, but it left a clear impression on him. The building itself was run down, perhaps housing more people than it was built to; being tucked away at the edge of the capital, none of the noblemen who would’ve been paying for its upkeep would care. The portion belonging to Tandi’s family was no better, with not even a hint of decoration to try to hide its poor state.

Her mother, too, was a figure he could recall even decades later. She was an older woman, one that could not stand up to greet them without the help of two other children, one who squinted through ancient glasses to see them. This was the woman taking care of at least six kids—going just off of what he’d seen in that short visit. Even if some of them looked to be teenagers, even with his minimal knowledge back then, he knew it couldn’t have been easy.

But, still, a smile was not unknown to her. She looked happy the moment they made the offer. Only after hearing that one of the older kids couldn’t go along that her smile faded, though it didn’t change her mind. She carefully explained the situation to Tandi, and watched her leave with Jimar and his parents.

…

It was strange to think that all this talent and grace would’ve been wasted on a petty thief in the Solaris capital. Tandi had only been there for five years and even he, though at the time still too young to understand most of it, knew she was special. Whatever Master Tyrus had set to teach her, she mastered it in a few months while it took others years. She was a good dancer, especially, and everyone had to admit they spent more time watching her than the actual “star” of any performance.

Jimar waited for her to walk up to him after she’d finished, and then he prompted, “You don’t have anything else to do, right?”

Tandi jumped at first—of course she hadn’t noticed him standing there—but eventually nodded. “Is there something you need?”

“I want to take you somewhere.”

He hadn’t let her overthink it. He didn’t even answer her questions after he briefly told his parents where he was going and guided her out of town. Honestly, though, it was more because he hadn’t yet memorized the paths and needed to make sure he didn’t get them lost.

He smirked when he finally reached the town.

“This is a quiet place,” he explained. “I went here with my parents a few times and I wanted to share it with you. You look anxious so much, and this place always helps me relax, so I thought it might help you, too.”

She seemed surprised for a moment, then gave him a soft smile. “Could you… show me around?”

He did an over-exaggerated bow. “It would be my pleasure.”

…

His parents weren’t there because of a debt, they were there because they were friends with Master Tyrus. That meant that, compared to those who needed to work, he had practically nothing to do. Usually he kept Tandi company, walking with her into town and bringing her to some quieter village when the work was done. If he couldn’t do that, then he was just wandering around the area, trying to find new places to show her. The look on her face whenever he’d brought her to a different place made it a worthwhile hobby.

Jimar had decided that he wasn’t going to tell her the reason they’d both been allowed to go was because his mother had offered to do her work instead. Tandi was amazing at what she did—Master Tyrus kept finding more and more ways to use her. Jimar somehow knew that, soon, there was going to come a time where he could no longer talk with her; when she’d be too busy and he might not even see her, or… perhaps one or the other wouldn’t be there at all.

He wanted to be sure that, whatever the last place ended up being, it was one she’d never forget.

So, out of all the places he’d shown her, which one had been the last? A lonely tree, just outside of town.

“I heard an interesting rumor about this tree,” he said, casually, as he laid out a blanket and sat their basket of lunch down on it. “They say it’s been here for ages—before the founding of the town. Lovers had met under here once a week for years… until the time came when, no matter what they did, they were unable to come. It took many years, but eventually they were reunited under this tree again—and they founded the town, to show that such miracles were possible.”

They both sat down on the blanket before he continued.

“There’s still one last piece. The spirits of those two people are supposed to lurk around here. Any others who meet under this tree, no matter what might happen to them, will always reunite here again.” He leaned closer and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’m not usually one for superstitions, but this is one that I think I’m willing to believe.”

She laughed. She thought he was joking—or, perhaps more accurately, she wished he was joking.

They were both aware of the kinds of things waiting for them. But even then, they’d chosen their sides for when the time came to stand by them.