Flicker of the Flame: A YA Epic Fantasy

by Evelyn Puerto

  His mouth fell open, then he laughed. “We’re a pair, aren’t we? Maybe I should still be an apprentice.”

  “And I’m failing my final test.” Tereka’s mouth drooped. “Maybe Juquila was right. I have no business trying to be a trader.” Her shoulders sagged and she leaned her arms on the table.

  Kemet took her hand in his. “Hey, what’re you talking about? It happens. Traders get cheated all the time. You’re a good trader.”

  “You think so.” She couldn’t muster up the strength to do more than mumble the words.

  “I know so. You’re a good companion on the road. When we camp, you do your bit. Even at the end of a long day, you’re still cheerful and polite to everyone. You know how to bargain and make a fair trade for both sides. You can calculate profits and taxes in your head faster than any scribe using an abacus. And you never complain about the weather.”

  She locked her eyes on the table. She felt too bad to look at him. Kemet thought all that? She’d had no idea he’d been paying that much attention to her.

  He kept hold of her hand, gently rubbing her cold fingers. Such a strong hand. His touch made her feel less alone, less like everyone was against her. He’d moved his face closer to hers so she could see into his dark eyes. He smiled like he enjoyed being near her.

  With a start, she realized she was enjoying his nearness as well. This was Kemet, who she’d first met in the market when they were about seven and got in trouble for throwing stale bread at the baker’s dog. Kemet, who was silly and rough and just another boy.

  Until now, when he was kind and reassuring and protective. And held her hand and made her want him to hold more of her. It was like she was meeting him for the first time. Now she was beginning to understand why her heart pounded when he reached for her hand. And she didn’t want him to let go.

  They looked at each other for a long while. Tereka wished she knew what he was thinking but was afraid to ask. He slowly pulled his hand from hers. “I’d better go confess to Da about the money. The sooner the better. Peace and safety.”

  She watched him leave. Up to now, he was just that boy from the market. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  16

  Juquila dipped her quill in the ink and signed the document in front of her. No matter how many times she had to write her name, she made sure her signature was bold and perfect. Always maintaining the illusion that she was in control.

  A slamming door prompted her to look up from her work, eyebrows raised. In the outer office, a chair scraped along the floor and creaked as someone dropped into it. Juquila touched the bell on her desk.

  Tirk responded to her summons. “Yes, Aunt?”

  Juquila looked him over. “Was that you making all that noise?”

  “I’m sorry.” His face, already red, darkened. “She’s so infuriating.”

  “Who?” Juquila suppressed her smile of anticipation. Gossip was one of her favorite tools for retaining her hold on her power. And this promised to be good.

  “Tereka.”

  “Go on.” Juquila picked up her quill, as if she didn’t attach much significance to what Tirk was saying.

  “She thinks the sun gets up when Da does.” He ran his hands through his dark hair. “All I said was Da chose to leave, which just about destroyed Mam. And made Aito suffer.”

  “And you as well, I’m sure.”

  “Right. He chose to take her. The girl. I’m the one who should have inherited his trading licenses.”

  Juquila raised one eyebrow. “Don’t you like working for me?”

  Tirk stepped toward her and dropped into the chair in front of her worktable. “Of course I do! But he chose her.” He twisted his face into a scowl.

  “Do you want to be a trader?”

  “No, of course not. But those licenses have value. Especially the one to trade with the Riskers. I could have sold them for lots of sheaves and sickles.”

  “I’ve trained you well.” Juquila smiled. Good. “But what did Tereka say?”

  “She got angry. Said Da sends money and gifts to me and Aito every month.” His face reddened. “I got mad. She said Mam lied to me all these years.”

  Juquila kept her face neutral. The last thing she wanted was Tirk questioning Groa. “What do you think?”

  “Mam wouldn’t lie. She sacrificed for me and Aito. One of the vendors wanted to marry her, but she refused. Because of us.”

  Of course, Juquila knew Groa had also refused because Tarkio might not be so generous with his support if she brought a husband into the picture. But Tirk didn’t need to know that.

  “I’ve never known Tereka to lie, either. Who do I believe?”

  “Who, indeed?” Juquila pursed her lips and tipped her head to the side, thinking. Tarkio needs to be taught a lesson, brought under control. He should know better than to try to counter her. But was Tirk the proper tool? “You’ll need to use your judgment on that, Tirk. Think this through. Who has the most to gain from a lie?”

  “Well, if Tereka’s lying, then she could turn me away from Mam. I’d be more likely to side with her and Da. Then Da would get what he’s always wanted, to separate me from Mam.”

  Good that Tirk still believed that about his father. “Right. And what would your mother gain from a lie?”

  “That I’d resent Da, I suppose.”

  Juquila tapped her chin, pretending to consider his response. “That’s one possibility. Can you think of another?”

  “No.” Tirk frowned.

  “What if she was trying to protect you?”

  “How?”

  “What if some of the gifts your father sent were useless, or cheap. Or insulting.”

  Tirk wrinkled his forehead. “How can a gift be insulting?”

  “Last year he sent you a toy suitable for a four-year-old. It’s like he didn’t remember how old you are.” Juquila gazed into Tirk’s eyes, opening her own wide as if she wasn’t concealing a lie, willing him to believe her. “Some years he’d forget. And when he sent money, it was barely a handful of sheaves.” She shook her head. “Your mother didn’t want you to get your hopes up that you’d get anything from your father.” How convenient for Juquila that Tarkio naively assumed Groa would tell the truth about his regular support.

  “So Tereka’s the one who lied.” Tirk’s face flushed and his eyes took on a hard glare.

  “Perhaps she’s just repeating what Tarkio told her.” Juquila congratulated herself for infusing just the right tone of speculation in her statement. “But I think she’s old enough to know the truth.”

  “Why would she lie to me?”

  “Because maybe she’s feeling trapped with Tarkio and wants an ally. If she can lure you into their circle, she wouldn’t be so alone. Or, she is working with Tarkio to lure you from your mother. Either one is possible.”

  “Both are horrible.” Tirk curled his lip. “And she’s despicable.”

  “Hmm.” Juquila twirled her quill in her fingers. “I’ve been troubled by her for a long time. Haven’t quite figured out what to do about it.”

  “If you need help, Aunt, I’ll be glad to do whatever you say.”

  “That would be a big help, Tirk.” She laid down her quill and leaned against the desk. “If you could keep an eye on your sister and father and let me know what they’re up to, that would help me a lot.”

  “You can count on me.”

  “I know I can.” Juquila nodded. “Now, shall we get to work? How much pottery was brought in from Gishin last month?”

  She smiled as Tirk went to fetch the ledger. Yes, I can count on you to be my tool. Now if I could only manipulate Kaberco as easily.

  A few days later, Tereka ambled through the market in Trofmose. She loved walking through it in the evenings after most of the crowds had dispersed. The air was cooler, the streets quieter now that the blacksmith was done clanging for the day and vendors were no longer calling their wares. Those who remained were less hurried, just looking for bargains or novelties or gossip, or all
three.

  She kept an eye out, looking for stalls sold out of goods. The metal candlesticks from Anbodu were all gone, just a lonely sample perched in the center of the stall. Maybe on her next run to North Rivash, she’d pick up some. She planned to leave for Gishin in the morning. Perhaps she’d extend her route to include Shinroo and North Rivash.

  In any case, she needed a highly profitable run to make sure Juquila ended her probation.

  Tereka idled along, smiling as a young boy and girl raced each other, chased by a skinny yellow dog. Just like she and Tirk had played. Her smile sagged. Tirk. As long as he was working for Juquila or listening to Groa’s lies, there was no way she could make up with him. The idea of being at odds with Tirk left a sour taste in her mouth.

  The town bells rang, signaling the sixth hour, the time she’d agreed to meet Kemet at the Calling Birds Inn. She decided to take a short cut through an alley to avoid the fetid stench from the fishmonger’s shop.

  The alley was dim and reeked of rotting fruit and dog piss. Maybe coming that way had not been such a good idea. She turned to go back and bumped into a burly man.

  “Sorry.”

  He stood in the center of the alley, blocking her way.

  “If you please, I’d like to get by.”

  The man punched her in the face.

  Her hand flew to her cheek. “What— ”

  When he struck her again, she staggered back against the wall of the alley. The man advanced and she put her arms up to defend herself. What had Da told her to do if she was attacked? His lessons came back to her and she moved almost without thinking. She waited for the man to start his swing, then ducked. She kicked him in the knee. He responded with a blow to her ribs. She thought she heard a crack just before pain knifed through her side.

  The man heard it as well. “Is that enough? Have you gotten the message yet?” he asked.

  “What message?”

  “You know. That you’re stupid spawn who needs to keep her promises. Next time it will be worse.”

  Her head ached and every breath felt like she was being stabbed. “Who—sent—you?”

  “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?” He smirked.

  She stepped forward and punched his chest, gasping as pain shot through her side. “Tell me.” Even if he refused to answer, she was sure she already knew.

  “No.” The last thing she remembered was him grabbing her shoulders and slamming her head into the wall.

  17

  The stench of dog urine and rotted apples filled Tereka’s nose. She opened one eye and squeezed it shut when dark spots danced in the air. She gagged on the bile rising in her throat. Sharp pain lanced through her side and she gasped, tears pricking her eyes. Where am I? She opened her left eye, the only one that seemed to be working. The round stones near her face were covered with mud and a few drops of what looked like blood. Then she remembered. The alley that was meant to be a short cut.

  After swallowing hard, she pushed herself to sit up and leaned against a log wall. She took a slow, shallow breath, trying not to provoke the stabbing pain. A man had followed her, hit her, and told her she needed to get the message. But he wouldn’t tell her who sent the message. The only person she’d argued with lately was Tirk, and she didn’t think he would send someone to beat her up. That left only one other person.

  How long had she been lying there? The dusk didn’t seem to have advanced much. Maybe she should try to find Kemet. She gingerly touched her cheek, wincing as she felt the tender places. She ran a hand through the hair on the side of her head and stared at the blood on her fingers.

  Wonderful. No wonder her head was pounding. She glanced around the alley and let out a breath. At least her attacker was no where in sight.

  It took her a few minutes, but she managed to stagger to her feet. Dark spots filled her vision and the pavement under her feet rocked a moment or two, then stilled. She took a deep breath, then nearly cried out in pain. Shallow breaths, she told herself. Slow and shallow.

  She tottered along the alley, the dark spots dancing before her eyes. As she turned the corner, she bumped into a man. Was this her attacker coming back to finish her off? Her heart thumped, setting the pace for the throbbing in her head.

  Just as she was about to whimper, the man spoke. “Tereka?”

  Her relief made her knees go weak and she just about fell into his arms. “Kemet. Oh, Kemet,” she muttered into his shoulder.

  “We were going to meet, right? Where have you been?”

  “I was on my way. Then I met someone else.”

  He stiffened. “Who?”

  “I don’t know. He followed me into this alley. Hit me a few times, then I passed out.”

  Kemet stepped back and looked her in the face. “He hit you?” Anger rumbled in his voice like distant thunder.

  “Yes.” She paused to get past the pain in her ribs. “It hurts to talk. Could you take me home, please?”

  “Of course.” He swung her up into his arms. When she cried out, he set her down gently. “What did I do?”

  “I think one of my ribs is broken. Just let me lean on you.”

  They made slow progress down the street. Tereka was glad there were few people about, the fewer people to jostle her or stare. Kemet didn’t attempt to make conversation. Stolidly he supported her through the emptying streets and down a few narrow lanes to the house she shared with Da.

  To Tereka’s relief, Da was sitting in the kitchen. “Da.” She had to huff the word out.

  He jumped to his feet, nearly knocking over his stool. “My dear girl, what happened to you?” He stroked her cheek and gently touched the side of her head. “What’s all this blood? And your eye— ”

  Kemet answered for her as she struggled to stay upright. “Someone jumped her in an alley.”

  “Here, sit,” Da said. He guided Tereka to a stool, then set the tea kettle on the ring over the fire. “Care to fill me in?” His voice was tight, constraining the anger that sharpened his tone.

  Tereka repeated her story. “He wouldn’t tell—who is sending—the message.”

  “I think it’s obvious,” Da said. “Juquila.”

  “That’s what I thought. She’s the one— who wants— me to stay in line.” Tereka winced as she took too deep of a breath. “But why this? She can’t do this. I’m going to—have to talk to her. Tomorrow.”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Tarkio said.

  “Why? She’s the one—who’s out of line.”

  “She’s also got the power.”

  “That she’s abusing.” She curled the fingers of one hand into a fist.

  “Um-hmm. Hold still, let me wash your face.” He poured warm water from the tea kettle into a ceramic bowl. He dipped a cloth into the water and dabbed at the blood on Tereka’s skin. The warm water soothed the raw patches on her face and eased the throbbing in her eye. Tarkio dabbed her face with a towel, then applied some salve. “Better?”

  “Yes, those spots. Now the one on—my head hurts worse.”

  Da placed a basin on the floor in front of her. “Can you lean over? I want to get the blood out of your hair.”

  She bent over the basin. She felt herself sliding off the stool. A strong hand pushed her back.

  “Kemet, could you make sure she doesn’t fall off?”

  She felt Kemet’s hands steadying her shoulders, her nerves tingling with his touch even through the pain. Da poured water over her head, rubbing her hair gently. Then he dabbed the wounds on her scalp with salve and wrapped a towel around her shoulders. Kemet pulled her back up so she was sitting straight.

  “There. All better?” Da looked at her with raised eyebrows.

  “I wish. There’s still my ribs.”

  “I’ll have to find something to bind you up with.”

  “Will I be able—to go out tomorrow? I want—to see Juquila.”

  “That’s a really bad idea, dear girl. Especially now.”

  “Why?”


  “You haven’t heard? Either of you?” Tereka and Kemet looked at each other in confusion.

  “Poales received a beating much worse than yours.”

  Tereka gasped. Poales was one of her da’s oldest friends among the traders. If someone had laid hands on him, too, he could be in danger of being taken, the ultimate punishment for those who threatened safety and fairness. Those who were taken were never heard from again. “I’m sorry, Da. Do you know why?”

  “Knowing Poales, it could have been any number of things. He’s been known to tangle with bandits. But the point is, you were both given a warning. You could have been taken.”

  Tereka felt like all her strength was draining from her. “This isn’t fair.”

  “I know. It’s not.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “We bind up your ribs and we leave town. Tonight. Before anyone gets any other ideas.”

  “Are you sure?” Tereka gripped her chair.

  “No, I’m not. But we need to be gone, just in case they come for you tonight. I don’t think they will, but better to be safe than taken.”

  “I’d rather—stay here.” She suppressed a moan. “Surely they wouldn’t do that.”

  Da sighed. “We have no way of knowing what they’ll do.”

  Biting her lip, Tereka studied Da’s face. His brows were drawn together, his jaw clenched. He was really worried, but all she wanted was to lie down and not get up for a long time.

  She had to admit he was right. Juquila was capable of anything. “As long as you have—plenty of whatever that is that takes away—the pain, I think I can move.”

  Kemet stood up. “Let me come with you.”

  “Thank you, but no.” Tarkio shook his head. “I don’t want you mixed up in this more than you have to be.”

  “But— ”

  “I know you want to help. You can help by going home to your father and letting him know what’s going on. I’ll be in touch with him soon. Tereka’s scheduled for the caravan to Gishin in the morning, and I’m supposed to be headed for North Rivash via Shinroo. If anyone asks, tell them that’s where you think we’ve gone. After that, it might be best for you to have an urgent trading run somewhere else.”