by Drew Wagar
She squeezed herself out of the small window; precariously holding on to the ledge, conscious she was on the second storey. She grabbed hold of the vine and swung herself out as she’d done before.
Only then did she realise she’d underestimated Shalla once again. The vine had been unpicked from the wall. For a brief moment Zoella could see how it had been neatly trimmed so that it was standing upright, but with no actual purchase on the wall of the house. She wasn’t heavy, but it immediately bent under her weight, swinging her away from the wall in an accelerating curve.
Her screech of surprise was lost in the splash as she hit the fetid water of the pond. She splashed desperately, trying to reach the edge. The dank black water had a crust of decomposing mildew and algae floating on it. Her clothes ruined once again and her hair a mess of green gunk.
She heard a yell of triumph and the thumping of quickly running feet. Before she could escape the pond Shalla and the other boy had arrived, laughing at her predicament.
‘Oooh, what’s that stench?’ the boy crowed.
‘Ditchwater?’ Shalla replied.
‘No, it’s worse than that.’
‘Some disgusting creature then,’ Shalla said, stepping up to the edge of the pond. Zoella stood up, feeling her feet sinking into the foul mud at the bottom of the pond. ‘Ugh! Look what’s crawling out of the mud!’
‘Leave me be!’ Zoella fired back, fruitlessly trying to scrape away the mess from her face. Green and yellow stickiness dripped into her eyes. ‘Or I’ll …’
Shalla leant down closer. ‘Or you’ll what, stinky? Why don’t you just run away? Everyone hates you! No guardian to help you here. Guess you’re afraid …’
The girl was much bigger than Zoella, with a round sturdy body and closely cropped blonde hair. She could have passed for a boy, other than a noticeable chest.
‘I’m not afraid,’ Zoella screeched.
‘Oh please help me,’ the boy began to mimic her. ‘Lacaille darkens, woe and death are upon us!’
‘Shut up,’ Zoella said, staggering in the mud.
Have they been watching me dreaming?
The boy continued unabated. ‘It’s all burning, oh oh oh!’
‘I said, shut up!’ Zoella cried.
There were suddenly heavier offbeat footsteps and a tall darkly dressed figure limped around the corner, stopped and then bellowed at the three youths, waving with a thick walking stick.
‘What in all damnable shades is going on here?’
Zoella swallowed as she recognised Tarq, owner of the hall.
Shalla turned and curtsied, her voice dripping with sickly sweetness. The boy bowed low.
‘Zoella fell in the pond, sire. We were just about to help her out.’
Tarq looked up at the broken vine and then frowned at Shalla. A sneer crossing his thin lined and grey face as he looked down at Zoella. The skin of his face was pale, hanging loosely on a bony skull. It was uneven too, marked by a pox he must have suffered many rounds before.
‘I’ve just about had enough of your furling, girl,’ he snapped, gesturing at her with his walking stick. ‘If I find you messing one more time I’ll have you whipped, guardian or no guardian. D’you hear?’
Zoella knew well enough to look meek. Tarq enjoyed whipping the youths, particularly the girls. He licked his lips. She winced.
Tarq cleared his throat in disgust and annoyance, waving vaguely to Shalla and the boy. ‘Get her out of there.’
Shalla turned and gave Zoella a look of undisguised hatred before holding out her hand. The boy did likewise next to her.
She knew she shouldn’t have, but it was too tempting an opportunity to miss. Zoella grabbed their outstretched hands, braced a foot against the bank and yanked as hard as she could.
Zoella endured the kicks and beatings inflicted by Shalla the moment Tarq had left them alone a brief spell after he’d finished venting his annoyance at having three mud splatted charges rather than one. Zoella was no match for Shalla physically and she’d learnt it was better to put up a token resistance and then feign weakness to avoid any serious harm. Tarq had seen to it that she earned herself a spell without food along with extra chores for her little bit of revenge. Zoella felt the exchange a fair one, even if she’d had to stay in her stinking clothes. The work kept her out of the hall for the whole stretch; mucking out the hergs, feeding Raga and then fetching water from the creek down towards the edge of the forest. It was hard work, but no bad thing.
She was even more filthy and bone tired by the time she finished what had been assigned to her. She staggered into the courtyard hoping to find a cup of chai and a few scraps left over from the eight chimes meal. Unfortunately Tarq was waiting for her, leaning on his walking stick.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’
‘Just a drink, sire.’
‘You had that when you were furling in the pond,’ he said, spitting on the floor ‘Hergs need moving to the top field.’
That’s not fair!
Zoella’s heart dropped. Tarq was just being vindictive. The hergs were only moved when they had cropped the grass down to the roots in a given field. They’d only been moved a few stretches before. Shalla must have planted the idea in his head at the meal.
‘But …’
‘Don’t argue with me girl. You’re indentured, don’t be forgetting that.’
Zoella scowled. Moving the hergs would take half a stretch at least. It was already time for the sleeping, the last chime was due to ring.
‘Can I have Raga?’ she said, wearily.
Tarq straightened. ‘If he’ll come, he’s no use to anyone anymore.’
Zoella gave a low rising whistle. Almost immediately the old carn came trotting out of the hall towards her. Tarq whacked Raga on the hind quarters with his stick as he went past. The carn yelped and moved faster.
‘You shouldn’t be so cruel to him.’ Zoella knew she shouldn’t push it, but she was outraged on behalf of the poor animal.
It was the wrong thing to say. Tarq stepped forward angrily, swinging his stick around and stumbling towards her on his bandy legs. Zoella backed up rapidly.
‘I’ll do what I think is right and proper with what’s mine!’ he yelled at her. ‘And that’ll include you before long. Mark my words.’
‘My guardian will return and take me far away,’ Zoella returned, scowling at him.
Tarq’s face twisted into a cruel grin.
‘And what’s to stop me buying you, eh?’ Tarq was nearby now. ‘It can be arranged you know. Maybe your guardian don’t want you? Thought of that, eh?’
‘He does! He’ll come for me, some stretch soon.’
Tarq’s smile grew wider and Zoella caught sight of his uneven stained teeth. A strange wheezing cackle emerged from him. It took Zoella a moment to realise he was laughing. He fumbled inside the lining of his jacket for a moment, before pulling out a fresh but crumpled piece of parchment with a broken red seal.
‘Do you know what this is?’ he smirked. ‘I wrote to the King, let him know we had one of Sandatch’s charges hereabouts. Taking an interest he was. Got this back just this stretch.’
Zoella tried to suppress a rising sense of anxiety. For Tarq to be so gleeful could only mean bad news. Her eyes widened in horror as he began reading, enjoying the look of despair that swept across her features. He held the parchment up.
‘…being the right and true proclamation of the King’s own deputy, Guardian Guerrun Sandatch is accused of treason and is hereby banished from His Majesty’s imperial provinces never to return on pain of death. All titles, estates, vassals and funds are hereby seized and all rights and claims revoked …’
No!
Tarq stopped, seeing Zoella taking a step back and shaking her head. He looked up, the grin still fixed on his face.
‘Oh yes, little one. Your guardian got himself banished and all his goods are forfeit.’ His eyes gleamed with a cruel light and his fingers twitched involuntarily. ‘Which includ
es you. King’s guards will be coming to assess it all next stretch it seems. No more guardian paying for your keep, which means you’ll be falling on my great mercies while we wait for them to arrive. Oh yes.’
Tarq licked his lips, his tongue hanging out and he leant down over her, she caught a whiff of his disgusting breath and almost gagged. ‘I’ll be expecting something in return that being the case. You and me can get to know each other much better. I’ll cure your high and mighty ways, little posh knot.’
‘I’d die first!’ she snapped, pushing past and away from him.
‘That can be arranged too. See to those hergs and then get to the sleeping. You and I will talk next stretch.’ Tarq laughed and limped away, his stick scraping noisily in the gravel-lined courtyard before disappearing inside.
Zoella trembled as Tarq moved away, too shaken even to turn. Tarq had many unsavoury habits and taking some of the girls to his room was the worst of them. Zoella had to stop her ears against the screams on some sleepings. All the girls had different techniques for being absent when Tarq was in one of his more lascivious moods, from simply hiding to deliberately smearing themselves in herg droppings. Nothing was guaranteed to work. Some other poor girl was going to get caught this time.
It was one thing she had managed to avoid. Tarq had seemed reluctant to touch her on account of her mysterious guardian.
But now my guardian is accused of treason! What was his name – Guerrun Sandatch? Who is he and what has he done? The King’s guards coming here on his account? And tomorrow Tarq will …
Her stomach clenched and she was unable to stop herself vomiting, falling on the ground, hands apart as her stomach heaved. There was precious little food, just bitter bile that burned her mouth. For a moment she could do nothing but retch.
She straightened, spitting out the vile taste from her mouth. Raga was still beside her, looking up at her with big concerned eyes. Zoella turned to look at the hall and spat again, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
Raga whimpered. The air seemed cooler now. Zoella had no overcoat and she shivered. There was nothing for it but to venture out into the fields. Chimes rang out from the hall. The last meal would soon be served and then everyone would be turning in, drawing curtains, shutting out the eternal light of Lacaille and enjoying a rest.
No rest for me …
‘Come on Raga,’ she sighed. ‘Maybe we can turn up a marsip or two.’
She walked back out, the carn loping obediently beside her.
The first obstacle was the creek, a small but quickly flowing river that separated the hillside fields from the flatter land that formed the grounds of the hall. She paused for a moment, looking around her. It was quiet and calm.
Stripping off she washed her tatty and threadbare clothes in the water, watching as the muck and filth was swept away downstream. The water was cool, but not chill. She took care not to damage the fabrics any further. Asking Tarq for replacements guaranteed an ‘inspection’; a humiliating experience involving much unwelcome pawing. She shivered and not from the water.
She hung up the clothes on branches of the shades that overhung the creek and then walked in herself, pushing out into deeper water. By long practice she was a good swimmer, Shalla’s endless persecutions had made that a necessity. She ducked under the water, enjoying the sensation as her long light-brown hair was freed from the dirt of several stretches of unpleasant chores. She vigorously rubbed it, ensuring it was as clean as it could be.
Surfacing, she saw Raga pacing around nervously on the shore. Carns didn’t much care for water. She saw him flap his fans in agitation, blood turning the fans a deep red colour as he cooled himself in the air.
‘I won’t be long, Raga,’ she called, ducking under once again before reluctantly swimming back to the shore. The old carn greeted her enthusiastically as she emerged.
Her clothes were already dry. Lacaille’s unending warmth had seen to that. Only when the mist and storms rolled in from the sea was its welcome light interrupted and then only for a few spells. Rain was short and violent here in the sunright of Scallia.
Zoella dressed quickly, pulling on her breeches and tunic. She felt refreshed, although her stomach still protested inside her. Slipping on her sandals she made her way a little up the creek. It was easier to cross here, but the far side was a steep and muddy embankment, making it a difficult climb. It formed a natural barrier which stopped the hergs trespassing on to the grounds. They couldn’t descend the bank apart from a small area that had been deliberately tended and guarded with a gate. Zoella passed it with little thought and then climbed up the hillside to the waiting hergs.
It took her a little less time to move the hergs into the next field than she thought. Fortunately it was easier than it would have been without Raga. He seemed to realise what was required and instinctively moved himself to complement Zoella’s movements. The hergs grumbled and snorted, but eventually trotted into place, flapping their fans in irritation. Zoella gratefully closed the old wooden gate that served as an entrance to the field, looking up and down the low stone walls that marked the boundary.
They ran for quite a distance. Each field was a thousand paces on a side, a ‘mark’ as it was commonly called. Tarq had chosen this one deliberately as it was at the highest point, forcing Zoella to drive the hergs uphill, something they were naturally reluctant to do. From this vantage point she could see down into the gently sloping valley that was all she had ever known. All she could remember, at least.
The hall seemed small and distant now. Zoella could see smoke rising from both chimneys as fires were prepared for the last meal of the stretch. Shalla would doubtless have found out the news, Zoella’s life would become even more intolerable now that she had no protection whatsoever. In a stroke she was just another unwanted youth, with no status and no rights. Tarq could do to her as he pleased …
She stopped that train of thought and deliberately looked away from the hall. Beyond was the forest, which stretched inland as far as the eye could see. No one ventured far in there. It was too dangerous. In recent times, cainar, the wild form of carns, had been heard hunting in packs. They were coming down from the shadeward by all accounts. The weather had been chill of late, forcing them sunward in search of prey.
Turning around Zoella could see the town of Serenia just two or three marks distant. It was reached by a dusty track from the hall. At busy times there were many herg-drawn carts moving along the track which ran past to the sunright. To the shaderight, that road eventually led to the capital, Viresia. This close to the sleeping it was quiet. Zoella spotted only a lone traveller heading toward Serenia. The town had been built on the coast and served as a fishing port for much of the area. Zoella could just make out a few fishing junks clustered behind the sea wall that jutted out. Lacaille hung in the sky above the sinuous coastline, unmoving, the same as ever.
Beyond the coast was the sea; the bay of Scallia. It stretched beyond sight, to the distant horizon. The fishermen said there were other lands beyond the sea, but none had ever been there. Catches had been poor recently, forcing the boats to travel further in search of a decent haul. A fair few had never returned, driving their respective families into poverty. Many of the children had ended up in the halls; there were two recent additions to Tarq’s establishment that Zoella had seen arrive in recent stretches. They were lost and bereft; their fathers lost at sea and their mothers reduced to … Zoella didn’t even want to entertain the thought.
Fishing was dangerous work. The realists said that storms at sea were claiming the boats and it was true to say that the weather had been worse than normal, but rumours of strange clawed, toothy and tentacled marine creatures grew in the telling, each one more fearsome than the last. There’d even been talk of a flying creature snatching sailors from the decks and devouring them in front of horrified crews. Zoella had heard tell of flying creatures in a few fireside stories, but paid them little credence. The biggest thing she’d ever seen flying was a gl
orious amber flit, a dainty winged insect. They were rare enough, particularly here near the coast, preferring warmer climes inland. She’d taken it as an omen of good luck.
Yet my luck has run out, it seems …
The town itself looked grey and dusty in the hazy light. A modest collection of simple stone buildings set around a town hall and a square. She’d been there a few times. The square was where the unwanted children were bought and sold. Sold to people like Tarq. He would take the youngest, bring them up as near slaves and sell them back as young adults for ten times their original price.
Tears came to her eyes and she sank down against the stone wall, pulling her knees up to her chin. She bowed her head and allowed herself to cry.
Why didn’t my guardian come for me?
Time had been when she fully expected her guardian to turn up after the very next sleeping. Every first chime she’d been up, looking out in anticipation. But then so many interminable stretches had passed she had almost given up hope. She didn’t understand it. Her guardian had been paying Tarq to keep her fed, in exchange for working at the hall. She’d been the only child there not owned by Tarq. As a youngster she’d foolishly crowed about this, ensuring the antagonism of most of the others. It turned into a cruel joke when her guardian didn’t appear and they delighted in teasing her. Shalla was the worst, having taken it upon herself to make Zoella’s life as miserable as possible.
For her part Zoella worked as hard as she could. Working hard kept you out of most of the trouble. She volunteered for all the chores that kept her out of the hall even if they were foul and dirty, or if the weather was poor. Each time she awoke from the sleeping she hoped her guardian might appear. Mayura passed time and again. He had never appeared.
She had known time was running out. Only last week one of the other girls had passed eighteen rounds of age, marking her as an adult. Not long after she was taken to Serenia and sold back. Zoella remembered the lifeless expression on her face and the dead desperate eyes.
