Scavenger Girl: Season of Toridia

by Jennifer Arntson

  It took a while for the bodies to cool enough to be carted away. Once removed, Calish came into view with a shovel and attempted to redistribute the burnt gravel from its concentrated area, leaving it smooth as if nothing had ever happened.

  “My Lady?”

  “Yes.” I wiped my eyes, turning to acknowledge Qarla. She had never addressed me directly, and those two words caught me off guard.

  “Are you all right?” She bowed.

  “Me? What about you?”

  “I’m fine, my Lady. I apologize for being so late. I hope you can forgive me.”

  “I’m just glad you’re not hurt. What happened out there?”

  Calish entered the house, slamming the door behind him. It rattled the walls, causing both Qarla and me to jump. Calish panted while wiping his boots on the entry rug, his black uniform darkened with sweat. The relentless heat of Toridia could make the strongest man collapse, and wearing all black probably made it worse.

  “I’ll get you some water, sir.” Qarla rushed out of the room.

  I wanted to apologize, but what good would it do? Burnt bodies on our doorstep moved us beyond typical responses intended for hurt feelings or harsh words spoken.

  He slicked his hair back, but the one center curl dropped back into place almost immediately. He stared at the mess he’d made beneath him, lost in troubled thoughts. I waited for him to acknowledge me, but he didn’t shift his eyes until Qarla returned.

  “Here you are, my Lord.” She offered him the drink.

  He drank half of it without breaking once for air. “I’m going to freshen up,” he said to her, “and you’re going to get Jeorge and Sterle and meet me in the dining room.” He finished the water and handed her back the glass.

  “Of course, sir.” She bowed.

  Calish pulled himself up the stairs, and I went where he requested we go. As much as I wanted to follow him upstairs, I knew him well enough to give him a few moments alone. I didn’t want to create more trouble, and too many nagging questions might cause him to lash back at his disobedient wife. He would regret enough about the day, I had no reason to add to the ledger of his perceived failures.

  I sat at the table first. Not an hour ago, it was bare, but Sterle and Jeorge had worked at a record pace to transform it. Sliced sweet loaves and an assortment of dried fruits and meat laid in beautiful designs to entice the eyes before the palate. They did well. A little too well.

  As much as I wanted to greet them when they entered the dining room, I couldn’t. My mouth, full of pastry, prevented my good intention, as did my attempt to disguise the missing piece. “You should eat, too,” I mumbled, but they did not respond.

  Sterle, with a tortured expression, set down two glasses and a pitcher of water. She folded her trembling hands at her waist and focused her gaze at the floor. Her stiff lips stifled her cry, and Jeorge wiped his brow with a tattered handkerchief.

  “Please, sit down,” I invited, yet they continued to stand properly, tallest to shortest along the wall, waiting for their lord as instructed.

  Calish joined us in a new uniform and freshly washed hair. The stubble on his face proved he’d been working too much to notice it. I hadn’t realized it either. He sat in the chair across from me, positioning himself to face the servants instead of the table.

  “What were those people doing out there?” He leaned forward, waiting for answers they failed to offer. He bit his lower lip and shook his head the same way our father did when he didn’t like our response. “Do you like working for me?” He picked up a roll and studied its shape.

  “Yes, sir,” they said in unison.

  “Would you tell me if you didn’t?” He took a bite, focusing on the bread as if glaring at the food made him less intimidating.

  Sterle brushed a tear from her face a moment too late. Calish saw her emotion, knowing the other two had years of experience of hiding their own.

  “I get it. More than you realize.” He set the roll down and wiped the evidence of it from his lips. “I want to help those people, but I’ll be honest: I’m running into opposition with every move I make. I wasn’t born in this class, I don’t belong in yours, and I can’t very well make up one of my own. You should work for me because you want to, not because you need to.”

  “Calish, do you really expect them to quit? If they don’t come here every day, they’d starve or worse.”

  He threw a look of disapproval over his shoulder, although we all knew I said what the servants couldn’t. He cleared his throat. “What if I told you I would make sure you ate every day, even if you didn’t work for me?”

  His question confused us all.

  He sat back, reclined in pure transparency, and spoke without reservation. “In case you didn’t notice, things aren’t ideal, for anybody. I need your help. I can’t do this on my own. Things will never change unless someone tells me what’s going on out there. Una and I are a liability for Reinick. No one expected us to make it this far, but here we are. Our survival, mine and yours, depends on what happens next.” He rubbed the lower half of his face and dropped his hand in his lap. “If I don’t understand what’s happening, we’re all as good as dead.”

  The baby kicked, and my stoic composure cracked.

  “What would you have us do, sir?” Sterle asked.

  “I need you to tell me what happened out there this morning before Reinick came out.”

  The servants glanced at each other before Jeorge chose to answer. “A group of people wanted to harm you and your family, sir.”

  “Me, personally, or the people of this neighborhood?”

  “You are not the primary target, but that doesn’t mean your house is immune.”

  Calish nodded, taking in a quick and shallow breath. “Did you know they were coming?”

  “Not until this morning, sir,” he confessed.

  “They were already here when I arrived,” Qarla said. “When guards refused to open the gates, we stayed out of the way. There’s been talk before, but they were never organized until today.”

  “I think they knew staff pass through in the mornings,” Sterle added.

  Calish folded his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling, so I asked a question of my own. “Do you have families out there?”

  “What does that matter, Una?”

  “Well, if the servants have been followed for any length of time, they know more than their work routine. If those people wanted to take advantage of our servants’ access to get in, who’s to say they won’t hold their family members as collateral to carry out their agenda? A neighborhood full of desperate servants would make competent assassins, don’t you think?”

  Sterle gasped. “Would they do that?”

  Qarla clutched the ring still hanging around her neck.

  “Will you give Calish and I a moment?” I asked.

  “Yes, my Lady.” They bowed as they filtered out.

  Once we were alone, I moved to a chair closer to him. “The people out there think we have everything here, and they’re right. Why wouldn’t they want this for themselves? If they fail, at least they’d feel better knowing we suffered also.”

  “No one has survived unscathed!”

  I hushed him, peeking down the hall to make sure our conversation remained private. “What if we bring their families in to live with us?”

  “I’m not against opening our home, Una, but what would that accomplish?”

  “Loyalty, for one. Security for another. We provide them with shelter, food, and safety, and in return, they’d help to protect what we share. Maybe they could be some sort of ambassador between the Authority and the people. I don’t know,” I shrugged, “but I don’t know how taking care of people is a bad thing when we have so much to give.”

  “It’s not going to prevent further attacks.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.”

  “I doubt any of them will take us up on the offer.”

  “Then ask and find out,” I dared.

&nbs
p; Calish shifted in his seat and stared me straight in the eyes. “You’ve been trying to get me to agree to take people in since you arrived here, this is not the time to—”

  “I’m not,” I defended myself.

  “I’m in no mood to argue with you. My morning has been far more disturbing than my wife wanting to run an inn for wayward Citizens.”

  “Run an inn?” I repeated with disgust. “I’m suggesting we take care of our people and their families. It’s not like we don’t have the room.”

  “And I’m saying your idea has nothing to do with what happened in the yard this morning!” His voice rose with each word.

  I refused to let his voice overpower mine. “You don’t have to ask the servants about what transpired out there, Lord Calish, any idiot can tell you what provoked that situation!”

  “Really? Why don’t you enlighten me, wise Una?”

  “They’re hungry!” I sprang to my feet and pointed to the front door. “They’re sick! They’re homeless! They want what you have!” I yelled. “And what did you do? You set them on fire!”

  “I did no such thing!” he bellowed, knocking over his chair as he stood.

  “Your hand didn’t control the bow, but it may as well have.”

  Calish’s face flushed with anger. “You shut your mouth!”

  “What have you done to help these people?” I challenged him.

  “I’m working out there every day to end this! Every damn day! With every sliver of energy I have!” He paused, tucking his hands comfortably in the pockets of his trousers. “And what are you doing?” He shrugged. “Reading books, right?”

  I slapped him across the face. He righted his chin, glaring down at me with narrow eyes.

  “You are not the man our parents raised you to be.” My heart pounded against my chest. “I don’t even recognize you anymore.” I turned to go upstairs, noticing the servants were witness to our entire argument.

  Wishing I’d stayed with the Resistance, I ran to my room, knowing I would never make it back.

  Chapter 3

  I half expected Calish to come upstairs to apologize, but he didn’t. Determined to stand my ground and not search him out, I sequestered myself in the master suite. I knew him to be just as stubborn, so I committed to wait him out. I took a shower, dressed, and made the bed. I knew the servants wouldn’t be pleased. They hated it when I poured my own water. Today would be a day I’d make every effort to anger the people around me. Why not?

  The steam fogged the bathroom mirrors, hiding my reflection from view. I sat and waited for the vapor to clear, revealing my alternate self in the glass. I didn’t need to call for her, my presence drew her here like food summoned Marsh. Since I’d avoided her for so long, I had a feeling she might play hard to get, and she didn’t disappoint. She presented with her arms crossed and nose upturned. Her defiance made me laugh.

  Did I look like that when I pouted?

  That’s why my brothers never took me seriously.

  “It’s dumb that you’re angry with me,” I whispered. “We’re the same person.” She untwined her body in the same way I used to when Father accused me of having an attitude. While her body mimicked one more relaxed, her eyes bore into mine with resentment.

  She doesn’t like to be ignored.

  “Might I remind you about the last time we were together? You got overly passionate with a man.” I raised my eyebrows at her. “You do remember we’re married, right?”

  She blushed and shrugged.

  “What is so important that you have to bother me in the window’s reflection?”

  She scooted closer to the mirror and put her hand on the glass, her palm facing me and her fingers sprawled out as far as she could manage.

  “You want my hand?”

  She nodded.

  I pressed my hand against hers, and she closed her eyes.

  “You need me to close my eyes?”

  She nodded, so I did as she asked.

  Before I knew it, I tumbled through the mirror into her side of reality. Her world lacked sound and temperature, and everything existed as the exact opposite of how I knew it. She beckoned me out of the house to the edge of the neighborhood by the gate. She pointed beyond the driveway to the tall weeping thistle growing along the neighborhood’s brick fence. I tried to ask her a question, but my voice lacked volume. She didn’t seem interested in my query as much as her planned tour of the other homes. She led me through the kitchens, pointing out presses, stock pots, ladles, bowls, and glasses, then she vanished.

  When I opened my eyes, I found myself sitting in the master bathroom, looking at my reflection. The woman beyond had gone.

  What is the deal with these mirrors?

  I thought of Nik and how much I missed his answers. I still had so much to learn, and I knew he would be more than willing to teach me. While it would have been nice to understand the mechanics of what had just happened, I understood what needed to be done. My anger toward my husband inspired productive defiance against him. As upset as I was, I actually had the courage to follow my alter’s suggestion.

  I made my way downstairs and into the kitchen where the servants were preparing my lunch and beginning dinner.

  “My Lady.” Sterle bowed.

  I felt compelled to apologize for everything and as such failed to address anything coherently.

  Qarla patted my shoulder and offered permission for me to stop trying. “It has been an emotional morning for everyone.”

  I accepted her compassion, although I didn’t deserve any. Sterle brought me a cup, another example of our undeserved status.

  “Thank you.” I smiled. “Can I ask you a question?” I sipped the tea too hot to be enjoyed. I set it on the table to cool.

  “Of course,” Qarla answered.

  “If Calish asked you to do something, would you have to do it?” I grabbed a piece of dried fruit.

  She thought before answering. “I guess so. Do you need something repaired or a function planned?”

  “No, nothing like that. It’s not for me, actually. What if I asked you to do something outside your typical duties?” I sensed my questions were making them nervous. “What if I asked you to do something and not tell Calish about it?”

  “We serve the lord of the house, my Lady, and it is our honor to do so,” Jeorge said in a proper tone.

  “I’m not trying to trick you.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Speak your mind, my Lady,” Qarla insisted.

  “I want to make some soup,” I blurted out.

  “But I’m making your lunch right now. I can make that instead though, if that’s what you want,” Sterle replied as she put down her bowl and rummaged through the cupboards for adequate ingredients.

  I shook my head. “Not for me. I want to give it away.”

  “To the neighbors?” Sterle asked.

  “No…”

  “Who is it for, my Lady?” Qarla asked suspiciously as she wiped her hands on her apron.

  “For whoever is hungry.” I paused, expecting the confused expressions on each of their faces. “That’s why it needs to be our secret. I don’t want you to do anything against your conscience, but I refuse to ignore mine after this morning’s events. If you don’t want to help me, then don’t; I’ll understand. All I ask is you don’t tell anyone else what I’m doing. Especially Calish.”

  “We don’t have enough food to feed everyone,” Qarla commented.

  “Yes, we do,” I corrected her. “Have you ever heard of thistle soup?”

  Of course not.

  “Calish told you about our past, right?”

  “He mentioned you weren’t always people of status,” Jeorge said diplomatically.

  “We were Scabs, Jeorge.”

  He shuddered.

  “Frankly, I always will be. As hard as I’ve tried to deny it, I cannot change the way I exist in the world. I am no better than the people outside those gates. The difference between me and the other residents in this neighborhood is
I know it.”

  In the short time that passed since my time in the mirror, a passion took root. I started to feel something I hadn’t experienced since leaving the Resistance: a feeling of purpose.

  “This will be so much easier if I have some help.”

  “What if Lord Calish finds out?” Sterle asked.

  “I’m sure he’ll be angry.” I shrugged. “But not at you. He’ll know who’s responsible. I’ll tell him I ordered you to do it.”

  “Is that what you are doing?” Jeorge asked. “Are these orders?”

  “No!” I sighed. “Do you realize this is the first time we’ve ever talked? It’s nice to have a real conversation. To be honest with you, I don’t understand the need for servants.”

  They gasped.

  “I mean no offense,” I apologized. “I’m just used to doing things for myself. I don’t enjoy sitting around idly, and if I read anymore, I fear my eyes will fall out. Calish forbade me to leave, none of you talk to me, and—”

  “And?”

  I fought back tears. “I have no friends.”

  “Do you have a plan?” Qarla asked.

  “No.” I fiddled with my fingertips. “But I know where we can get supplies.”

  They glanced at each other.

  “So? What do you think?”

  * * *

  In the hours that followed, we talked about how to turn our ideas into a reality. Qarla offered to ask the maids of the other houses for supplies. Trying not to act too eager, I agreed. My reflection had shown me exactly where the things were but borrowing them felt better than stealing them as my alter seemed to suggest. The servants had good relationships with each other, so there should be no problems getting what we needed.

  “The best part is the masters will never know they’re gone,” Sterle agreed.