One Job

       Onni was stuffing dry moss between the logs of his family’s house when he heard Tuuri’s happy laugh from the outdoor stair path. It wasn’t a good sign. First, she was out of his sight, he realised, and out of the dry and clean, roofed porch. Second, she was that happy when she’d see some mess to get into. And she’d always choose the right moment when he was busy! How could he finish with the moss in time for a big family dinner if she kept sneaking off the porch, or grabbing bumblebees, or reaching for a berry in the nettles, or getting stuck in a fence… Onni thought a two-and-a-half-year-old should learn from all previous bees, nettles, and scoldings, but no, she’d just grip anything that could bite, sting, or stain her. Okay, it was too cold for insects, but all other kinds of troubles remained. And parents were so busy with the celebration, too, because the Hotakainen family became one person larger. Well, cousin Lalli had been born in spring, but he got his luonto in autumn, and only after that could he be shown around and travel to the capital for an immunity test. Aunt Tuulikki had been back from central Saimaa the day before, with good news. The boy was immune. Of course it was good, but Onni hoped that Aunt Tuulikki wouldn’t ask him to look after yet another baby too. One Tuuri was really a lot. Like now. He dropped a dull knife he worked with and ran around the corner. A bee would have been better. It was Grandma Ensi. She was leaning over the flimsy hedge, tickling Tuuri’s nose with a grass ear, and doting over her. As usual, Grandma’s smile faded when she noticed Onni. “You,” she sighed as usual, “don’t you see that Tuuri’s cap is almost off? She might catch a cold!” And she adjusted the blue knit cap on the girl. Tuuri laughed again and shook her head. The cap slipped to another side. “Oh my dear,” Grandma Ensi was smiling back in a second. Onni wanted to say that he had other tasks, that Tuuri was too fidgety to look after, that there was no wind on the porch where she should have been sitting… But he knew Grandma Ensi hated excuses, so he just trod in place, wondering if it’s ok to go back to work or to take his sister back to the porch — no, for that, he’d have to come close to Grandma Ensi, and it was always… scary. Sure, she was protecting the whole village. Adults respected her and were taking her advice. Onni knew that but remembered her taking him outside, to the black voices, shadows, and rustles that would mean death to him. Even mom couldn’t stop her, and dad just had said it would be safe, but… Outside, fear had been overwhelming, it hadn’t left place for training or anything else. Grandma Ensi had said Onni was a failure, and had never brought him outside for training after two or three botched tries. But that fear remained, and a lump was settling in Onni’s throat every time he saw her. “We’re all lucky,” she said suddenly startling him, “that your cousin is immune and a mage. I do hope he won’t be such a coward when he grows up”. Oh yes, the cousin, Lalli. A mage, too. Which was definitely good—not for him, not with the voices in the head and nightmares, but for Onni. Maybe if Grandma taught Lalli to be a scout and hunter, she wouldn’t try to make Onni go outside anymore and would stop— “Such a waste, really.” She added, as usual. No, she wouldn’t stop telling him that. “One scout mage is good, two would have been even better. Come here!” He went to the stair path, slowly, shaking moss crumbs off his coat to bide time. “Scavedy Onni!” Tuuri piped. “Gvanny take me out, Tuvi hunter!” “No, sweetheart, you can’t.” Grandma Ensi patted her, then reached out to grab Onni by the shoulder and bring him closer. He flinched. “Now listen.” Grandma’s voice was dry and strong like her hand. Onni didn’t dare look her in the eyes. “Even if you are useless as a scout or hunter, I still have a job for you. Since you are stuck in the village, look after your sister. Is that clear?” “Yes,” he muttered, and swallowed. Eyes burned, he wished not to cry but, as usual, would lose it in seconds. The house door squeaked, and Onni jumped again. But it was mom on the porch, in her apron powdered with flour. “Good day, Ensi! I thought you’d go right to Jukka’s house from your place,” she smiled, but then looked closely at him and back at Grandma, and frowned at once. “What, are you scaring Onni again? Please stop it already!” She hurried to them, bristling like an angry cat. Grandma Ensi staggered back, even though she was taller than mom. “I won’t let you put my children in danger anymore. Neither of them!” Onni hid behind Mom’s skirts. It was lame, he was a big boy, he’d be nine very soon, but… At least he could wipe his eyes and nose unnoticed. Still, he heard her grumble. He knew by heart what they’d tell each other next. “Oh, come on, Anne-Mari, it does not take much to scare him. You spoiled him. And you can’t refer to immunity; look at Hilja, she’s not immune, and she has lived to sixty and will go on and on. Or Tapsa, he’s not even a mage, he copes fine with just a cat and a rifle.” “Not everyone should clear woods, someone needs to stay and produce your daily bread, and we need mages for that, too!” Mom hugged Onni gingerly, not to stain him with the flour. “Don’t listen to her, dear, Ensi deals away with monsters but does not know how to deal with children.” That was a familiar line, too. Grandma would say she had raised two sons, and mom would say they had been raised by their grandmothers and other villagers while their mother was away to kill monsters. But today, Grandma Ensi didn’t sound angry anymore, and Onni even dared to peek at her. “Calm down, switch the brooder hen mode off. We have a celebration today, right? And, speaking of daily bread,” she sniffed the air, “what is beginning to burn so deliciously?” “Oh!” Mom clapped her hands and gasped. “Pasties!” She rushed back into the house. A smell of baking wafted briefly from the doors. Grandma Ensi sighed and went without a word in the direction of Uncle Jukka’s house. Tuuri whined and wanted to go there too, Onni had to catch her, and of course she cried and grabbed the hedge planks. He looked around for anything—a dry flower, a yellow leaf—to draw her attention away from the retreating back of Grandma Ensi. The window creaked behind them, and it smelled like baked dough again, maybe a little too burnt this time. “Onni!” Mom shouted from inside. “Get Tuuri washed and dressed in the new blue overall, we will go in half an hour!” It was always that way. Onni, watch that Tuuri doesn’t fall into the water from the pier. Onni, make Tuuri eat her porridge. Onni, sing the runo against frostbite for her. Mom and Grandma Ensi argued on a lot of things, but if they both were telling him to look after his sister, then… Then it really was the only thing he was good for. If he coped, of course. Tuuri still clung to the hedge. He knew from experience that she’d screech like a seagull if he tried to pry her away by force. So he had to promise that she’d see Grandma Ensi again a bit later, when they go to see their tiny cousin, and that Grandma would be pleased if Tuuri came all neat and clean, and behaved. Dirty hands gather no apple pies. Apple pies made Tuuri more cooperative, she grinned and waddled home. Maybe if he managed to keep her tidy till dinner, Mom would hug them both and tell them she loved her bunnies. Maybe even Grandma Ensi would say that he did well.