Scavenger Girl: Season of Toridia

by Jennifer Arntson

  When we heard Tali calling for her, she ran out of the tent as fast as her little legs could, eager to play with her friend. With everything that had gone wrong in the previous few days, she and her orphaned siblings gave me endurance for today. What they survived bonded them together, and despite Noran’s crippling declaration, they found joy in the things of the present.

  I drank the water though I wasn’t thirsty and lay down. The midwife said I had to take care of myself to take care of them. That was the only reason I chose to be compliant, not because Calish demanded it.

  Chapter 41

  Morning came to take Calish and his most trusted officer away. Both left early to meet with Noran and Reinick, leaving us a single guard assigned to protect the property. Trisk and Marsh took up their weapons and served as security—an attempt that insulted our lone Authority recruit.

  Determined to prove my vision wrong, my brother carried a thistle spear instead of his bow. I didn’t notice it yesterday since I spent most of my time sequestered in the tent, but visitors still came to the property for meals. Our guard had explained why we stopped serving so many times, his script became impatient and sounded needlessly rude.

  I grabbed a basket and tossed as many vegetables as I could carry in it. “When the people come, give each of them one of these,” I told him, setting the bounty at his feet. “And remember, these people are coming for help, not to be made to feel worse about their situation. Please try to be kind.”

  “What do I do when these run out?” he asked, slightly embarrassed to have his poor attitude addressed.

  “Then we’ll fill it up again.”

  “And when we run out?” he asked. “Because we will.”

  “Then we will give them herbs.”

  “And when they are gone, what will we eat, Lady Una?”

  “Then we go hungry, too,” I replied.

  Confident we’d be given more the next day, I secretly feared saying it out loud. Wouldn’t the gods love to prove me a fool? But my faith lay in the Great One, and he hadn’t let us down.

  Yet.

  With all our supplies broken or torn apart by the Disciples, we weren’t able to store our harvest. If we did, it would only inspire theft or worse.

  I will rely on the Great One’s bounty until he gives no more.

  After that, I didn’t know what would happen.

  Who am I trying to fool? I would harvest thistle.

  Noran would be the only one angered because the gods he served were nonexistent. Besides, I didn’t care about the priest and his ridiculous declarations, no matter where in the hierarchy he perched. If he wanted to crucify me in front of the Temple, so be it. I’d have plenty of declarations of my own to share while they did their best to silence me.

  The more I thought about Noran’s decision to protect the thistle, the angrier I got. What kind of man keeps his people compliant by starving them? Thistle was such a perfect, simple answer to many of our problems. It didn’t taste fantastic; still, it satisfied the most basic of needs. Sure, harvesting caused harm if done improperly, and processing it was tedious work, but it kept people alive.

  Ashlund couldn’t possibly prepare for Talium without it. Didn’t Noran know that? If anything, the weed was our gift from the gods, not something to mock us with. The Temple always took the first fruits from the harvest—didn’t he see there would be nothing to harvest? He may have some food, but he wouldn’t for long. Eventually, he would pick his own thistle to survive. With any luck, he’d choke on a thorn.

  I wonder what he’d have to say about divine nature then.

  I hated that man. I dare say I hated him more than I hated Reinick. The two of them were quite a pair, sitting on their well-stuffed chairs in guarded neighborhoods filled with goods stolen from unarmed families. I would love to invite them over for a meal only to poison them or slice their throats with the cutlery still in their own hands. Reinick wouldn’t be difficult to end. I could do that without blinking. Noran, however, by all accounts, was virtually untouchable.

  I considered how to kill a Charmer as I lazily watched the guard standing at the entrance. He distributed the food as I instructed, and the people who’d come were grateful to receive it. I was sure he thought I chose my spot to supervise him, when in reality, I hadn’t been paying attention to him at all.

  I entertained myself by imagining the High Priest in his repulsive dress of sequins and beads, pleading, gasping, and crying for mercy.

  If Noran died, would the thistle continue to be protected?

  If Reinick died, would the Authority prosecute those who harvested it?

  A law was only as good as the Authority’s ability to enforce it. If everyone disregarded the rules, would they execute all of Ashlund for it?

  Of course, they would.

  They’d be glad to watch the fatal last efforts of a starving burden of society. Obviously, they made that particular law to further cripple the people. They outlawed thistle because I chose to serve it. If I’d served it from the Temple and gave credit to the gods, we’d still be working.

  No, this was personal.

  They did it simply to shut us down and remind us of our true place. We were still Scabs, and we were making them look bad. They couldn’t kill us, so they did the next best thing. They tried to stop the Citizens from idolizing us. Noran and Reinick didn’t like competition. They weren’t used to it; they felt immune from it. The two of them came at us so quickly we didn’t see it coming.

  You want to make this personal? It’s personal.

  * * *

  I yanked the blanket off the mirror, a pen and paper in my hand.

  “Take me to Nik.”

  As soon as I touched Anu’s fingertips, I felt the chill of her world. I took but a single step when I recognized the dark frame of Nik’s mirror. While waiting for him, I took the opportunity to write down all the things I thought he would want to know. I wrote about Kash’s mark, what it meant, and how there were still three others wandering somewhere about Ashlund. I noted that while I hadn’t read Reinick, I was sure the Woodsmen didn’t need him.

  “Kash has men working undercover in the Authority and proved it to me.”

  I wrote about Noran taking away the only source of food for the people, and finally I asked the question I’d come here to answer.

  “How do you kill a Charmer?”

  I had just finished the sentence when Nik startled me. I giggled and caught my breath.

  “Are you all right?” he mouthed in silence.

  I nodded and shrugged, handing him my pages of notes to read. He pointed at it and gave me the thumbs-up for writing it all down before he arrived. When he had finished it, he held his hand out for the pen and made a sloppy reply.

  “You are not going to kill Noran.”

  I took the paper back from him and underlined the sentence again.

  “Not even Lark knows how,” he wrote. “Charmers make people change their minds.”

  “Not mine.”

  He smirked. “No. Not yours.”

  I stood, ready to leave. While I didn’t get the information I came for, hopefully I gave Nik something useful. He gently grabbed my arm and stopped me. He wrote quickly. “Your mother said the baby should be coming soon. Do you want me to send her to you?”

  Reading his words made me long for her more than ever. It broke my heart to refuse his offer, but I didn’t want anyone else sent for me. “No, I have a midwife. Keep my mother safe.” I showed him my answers before adding, “And tell her I love her.”

  He stood with me a moment. I sensed he wanted to hug me, perhaps have me stay a little longer, but why would I? To tell him I prepared for my own death? To ask him what he saw in Marsh’s future? To confirm Nik had seen my end and accepted it? And know my mentor lied to me when he swore he didn’t know?

  I didn’t want to know any of those things. If I’d learned anything, it was that one answer is never enough to answer a complicated question. Answers were overrated anyway.
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  My feelings for Nik were strong, but I couldn’t bother myself with unidentifiable emotions any more than I could worry about formulating unnecessary questions. Yes, he loved me. Honestly, I loved him too, but I also loved my family. I loved Marsh, Trisk, and the children I rescued. My unborn child. I could love Nik because there were many, many forms of the emotion. Loving him was not the issue. The physical space between us existed because I loved Calish more. I could stand before Nik forever, and my feelings would be the same.

  Nik’s confession didn’t need to come from his lips; it came from his eyes. He told me in the step he took toward me, and I replied with the step I took backward. Although time stood still in the mirror, and my spirit had only momentarily been separated from my body, I had stayed far too long. Nik’s broken smile confirmed it.

  Goodbye, Nik.

  He reached for me, but I left him there in the reflection of his private quarters.

  * * *

  I covered the mirror with the drape for what would be the last time. I felt it. The bed waited to receive me, but I wandered outside to check on the children.

  One, two, three…thirteen, fourteen.

  If Calish were still around, he’d make me lie down again. I couldn’t sleep. I was all wound up thinking about Noran and his unnecessary cruelty, which was better than obsessing about Nik and what he did or didn’t know.

  My eyes rested on the lone guard out front. His opinions floated to the forefront of my mind as I watched him hand out vegetables. I guessed several people came to hear the new law, as if others would lie about it. Thankfully, we had something to offer. Our wandering guests would eventually turn into long lines when the Citizens learned we still had food to give.

  The guard’s concerns echoed in my ears.

  He was right. If we gave it all away, we’d have nothing left. My fingers traced the straight marks on my arm. They didn’t hurt anymore, but they hadn’t lost their pink hue either. I had fourteen children to care for.

  What happens when we run out?

  I called for Braylie and Huxtyn.

  The brothers raced each other to get to me. “Yes, Mother?”

  “Can you bring the opened seed bags out here, please?”

  The boys did as I asked, and when they returned, I pulled the twine from the sack. “We’re going to plant them all.”

  “All of them?” Huxtyn asked.

  “Yes,” I confirmed then called for the rest of the children. “The brothers are going to help you.” I then turned my attention back to the boys. “Instead of giving them one seed at a time, give them each a small handful. Even if they drop a seed or two, there’s a chance it will take root anyway.”

  Fyn approached cautiously as the children mobbed the brothers. “Are you all right, Mother Una?”

  I gently tugged on the end of the braid lying over her shoulder. “Yes, sweetheart. Why would you ask?”

  She shrugged. “You look sad.”

  “Sometimes sad and happy look the same.” I forced a smile. “I’m just really happy I found you. All of you.”

  She hugged me, and the fear I tried to hide fought its way to the corners of my eyes. “Me too,” she said.

  The boys gave everyone a small handful of seeds at a time, but after Cazret spotted a grass snake, the little ones didn’t want to poke their fingers in the ground anymore. Kort vowed to protect the homestead and chased the terrified reptile to the berm, while Ky tried to find more.

  Needless to say, a lot of seed ended up scattered on the ground rather than being planted, but I had no doubt our efforts would be fruitful. Watching their activity was quite entertaining.

  One, two, three…thirteen. Where’s…?

  Aria tiptoed around the corner of my tent, concentrating on a glass of water as if she challenged it to a staring contest.

  There she is!

  Making sure not to lose a single drop, she offered me the drink. Complying to her silent demands, I drank half of it then and there. Her persistence would have earned her a medal if Calish had any to issue.

  Eventually, the children returned to plant more. They ran back and forth, getting seeds and planting them as if it were some sort of contest. When I felt comfortable we’d have more than enough for tomorrow, I sent the children off to play in the shade. The seed bags weren’t marked, although I was pretty sure I identified at least a few species. It didn’t matter what grew. We’d eat whatever the Great One provided.

  Once I finished my water, I realized Aria had been so focused on me, she hadn’t planted anything. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart. We need to get you some seeds!” I rolled my eyes, and she smiled.

  I scooped out a few from the bags and braced her tiny hand to put them in the center of her palm. I folded her fingers up around them. “Nurse Aria”—I kissed her forehead—“I think you’re ready to plant.”

  When I took my hands from hers, I gasped. Out from between her fingers stretched long white roots and green sprouts. Instinctively, I hid her hands and pulled her against me, frantically looking to see if anyone else saw what I saw.

  No.

  No one saw.

  I thrust my hand into the seed bag, pulling out a handful but spilling many more in the effort. Scooping her up, I whisked her inside the tent. Aria thought it funny, and if she could make a sound, she would have been giggling uncontrollably. By the time we were alone, the seeds in her hands had grown into well-developed, juvenile seedlings complete with tiny leaves and wiry, tangled roots.

  “How did you do that?” I asked, piling the seeds I brought on the crate next to me.

  She looked at the plants within her grasp and shrugged. Picking one up by the top, she wiggled it free from the other two.

  “Did you know you could do that?” I whispered.

  She shook her head.

  “Wow,” I said excitedly. “Put those down.”

  She laid them gently on the dirt as I picked three more seeds from the pile. I dropped one in her hand. “Now, grow it.” I beamed with anticipation, but the seed simply sat there. “Huh.” I crossed my arms on top of my belly and thought. “Oh, make a fist like this.” I demonstrated my request.

  She copied me, but when she opened her hand, the seed had not changed.

  “Maybe you need three again,” I said, laying two more in her hand. “Try that!” I clapped my hands together softly. She closed her hand over it, but once again, the seeds remained just as they had been.

  What the f—

  I needed help. “You wait right here, don’t move.”

  I darted out of the tent to get Marsh, waddling with my arms swinging to increase my momentum. “Marsh!”

  What is he doing in the field?

  I cursed then called him again. The guard at the entrance heard my call and decided to assist. His voice carried better than mine. “Hey! Marsh! Lady Una wants you,” he bellowed, pointing back at me.

  Marsh began to jog toward us, his thistle spear in hand. “Yeah, what?”

  I didn’t want to tell him there. When he got close enough, I looped my arm in his and pulled him to the tent. “You’ve got to see this.”

  “Oh, hey there, Aria.” Marsh propped his thistle gun in the corner. Aria waved, still holding the seeds in her hand.

  “She’s the Grower,” I whispered.

  Marsh slowly knelt next to her, his eyes twitching with excitement. “You’re kidding?”

  “No.” I sat so the three of us made a small circle. “See these plants? They grew from seeds right before my eyes.”

  “Really?” Marsh squeezed Aria’s shoulder, giving her a bit of a wiggle. “Way to go, kiddo!”

  The seed shells split, and a white tail sprouted from one in her outstretched hand.

  “What the—” Marsh fell backward onto his rear, and the seeds didn’t sprout any further. He blinked hard, righting himself on his knees.

  Aria and I laughed.

  “What? Why’d it stop?” he asked, and Aria shrugged. Marsh knee-walked closer to her. “Mayb
e the seeds are bad?” he guessed, scooting them in her palm.

  One by one, Aria placed them on the dirt next to the ones already sprouting. I put three more seeds in her hands, and nothing happened. “See, I don’t know how she did it,” I sulked.

  “No problem,” Marsh said intently. “We’ll figure it out.” He licked his lips while staring at the seeds. “What exactly did you do when these grew?”

  “I gave her three seeds.”

  “Did you do anything special?”

  “No.” I swallowed, feeling a bit pressured. “I held her steady like this.” I touched her wrist, and the seeds began to split and twist in her hand. Each seed grew a white root that thickened as it stretched across her hand.

  “Good river and stones!” Marsh pointed to the seeds Aria laid on the dirt. They were growing too.

  I let go of her hand, and their progress stopped.

  “What happened?”

  “I let her hand go.”

  “Touch her again!” he urged, trying to keep quiet.

  What had come so naturally before was now made heavy with anticipation. Timidly, I reached for her hand. The moment we touched, the plants grew more. I let her hand go, and it stopped.

  “What happens if we both do it?” he wondered aloud.

  “Can we hold your hand?” I asked, feeling wrong about testing her gift without permission. She nodded.

  …And the seeds grew even faster.

  “Oh, my gods, that’s incredible!” His mouth hung open.

  I giggled as the plants on the ground turned and flipped on themselves. Marsh laughed, and Aria began to bounce happily on her toes. The seeds on the crate sprouted and pushed each other onto the dirt.

  The happier we were, the faster they grew.

  “Come here, you,” I said, taking her into my arms and hugging her tightly. The plants grew so fast we could hear them. Growing thicker, they pushed us out of their way, demanding room for their branches to stretch and their leaves to uncurl. They thrust their roots into the soil, and suddenly, dozens of tomato plants bloomed inside the tent.