Page 11 of Beyond the Ruby River
“Not bad for your first try.” Mahu sliced off the second side.
Daka improved with his next attempt but had to make several passes to rid the pith of all its greenery.
“Somewhere between the two pressures lies the sweet spot.”
“The sweet spot you say.” Daka’s tongue darted out to moisten pink lips.
Mahu, though distracted, managed the third slice and held the core between his fingers.
Daka did the same. His piece of core wasn’t as cleanly cut as Mahu’s, but it wasn’t a total waste either.
“Switch with me,” said Mahu. “It will be easier with mine. Next the pith can be cut to three thinner strips. Just as before, careful with your pressure. Nice and even.” Mahu demonstrated, managing to divide Daka’s slightly mangled core three ways.
“You made that look easy.”
“It is easy with practice. Go on.”
Daka studied the pith, placed his knife, and carefully proceeded to cut three somewhat uneven strips.
“Well done. And on your first try no less. A quick study.”
Daka’s inky-blue eyes held Mahu prisoner. “A good teacher.”
Mahu fell into his gaze, lost. A playful spark in the quality of Daka’s stare captivated him and would not let go. Daka seemed to know the power he wielded and its effect on Mahu.
Daka gave him the courtesy of looking away first. “What happens next?”
Mahu shook off the hypnosis and led Daka to a worktable. “The fibers are too brittle straight from the plant. We must roll them to squeeze the sugar out then leave them to soak over several days.”
“The sugar? Are they sweet?”
“Indeed, have a taste.”
Daka brought the pith to his lips, watching Mahu as he licked, then sucked the plant into his mouth.
“Mm, lovely,” Daka mumbled around the core.
The thought of kissing Daka, of chasing the sticky sugar at his lips, rose like the seasonal flood waters. He wouldn’t, of course. Silly to even think of such a thing, that someone as young and hearty as Daka would be interested in a sad old man like Mahu. But the temptation lingered in the thick air between them.
Mahu focused on the work, laying his pith upon the table and grabbing a roller. “This part is simple. Roll the pith flat, expelling the sugar and moisture, then soak up the excess with a cloth.” Mahu demonstrated, then moved aside for Daka to finish.
Daka rolled all six strips and used the cloth to clean them off.
“Good.” Mahu indicated the water bins. “You can add them to the others in the first bin. They’ll soak for three days to make lighter paper, or six days for darker paper.”
Daka added the strips to soak and leaned against the bin, hip cocked, weight on one foot. “What do you do in the meantime?”
“Oh there’s always more to do.” Mahu went to the farthest bin. “For instance, these are ready to be laid.”
Daka’s attention turned from him to the stacks of finished product. That curious gleam returned to his eyes. “How is it done? Can we do it now?”
“Yes.” Mahu scooped a dripping bunch from the bin. “Take a handful and bring them to the next table.”
Daka collected his own bunch and followed. “Your work is quite fascinating.”
Mahu smiled, sat down, and demonstrated the pattern, laying each strip flat and straight, with the next overlapping. “There are two ways. You can do the entire piece vertically, like so, then add the second layer horizontally. Or you can weave as you go.”
“Which do you prefer?” asked Daka from over his shoulder, standing close enough Mahu felt his breath against the shell of his ear.
