by R. K. Gold
“Why would he think he was cheated? It’s not like we took money from him.”
"You know, Toni. He’s not used to winning, and if he feels like no one else suffers when they lose, he’ll be pissed. And he talks to some not so friendly people when he’s upset.”
A small group of boys marched in a single file. They were the same ones strolling through the market the previous day, on their way like everyone else to earn what they could from those visiting the town. The one in front licked his lips and played his trumpet while the three behind carried the tune as best as they could. The drummer in the rear tried his best to anchor the beat. They were playing the same song, only their timing was off. The heaviest of the four puffed away on his tuba. His cheeks blew out, and the vein on his forehead popped as the tail of the sound screeched off. He lowered his mouthpiece and pouted. His eyes dropped to his feet, but the other three kept playing like nothing happened. The woman beating her rug stopped to clap for the boys. The dark-skinned boy with the tuba looked around at the small crowd on the street and balconies, clapping along with broad smiles on their faces, and joined back in. As he played, the clapping grew louder, and the sounds of the four instruments overlapped on the right beats. Jomi jogged over and handed the one in front his nickdem, then ruffled the pale drummer's red hair.
“So, we’re heading back to Wydser soon,” Jimo said.
Yael’s mind jumped to the stories she had heard on the radio. The ones that were impossible to miss. How Colodian guards and Emerlia loyalists fought along every inch of the border between the two countries except the Mother’s forest. It was one place Colodian didn’t need to guard. The toxins in the air and pollen made it impossible to mount a full-scale attack through the trees.
Few people left offerings by the Mother’s shrine in Eselport. It didn’t help that the shrine was so close to the factories and the warehouse district. Still, perhaps that was the best place for it since the forest only became toxic within the last century when the Emerlia steel factories sprouted along its border.
Part of the reason towns along the forest divide sprung up was once upon a time, the most likely place to reach the Mother was within the trees. People would visit from all over the south to leave a flower, a book, even a stone just to thank her. However, once Benedict the Wise, the grandfather of the current King Benny in Emerlia, developed a military to fight back against the northern nation of Dracar’s expansion, the trees suffered, and rivers turned dark. Factories and smoke replaced the rolling fields and tree lines in the center of the continent, and as the pollutants filled the air, the nature that survived turned. The trees grew closer together, almost shielding the heart of the forest from the smoke, and when the seedlings of the plants blew with the wind, those who inhaled the pollen fell ill. Some even died if they were exposed for too long, and all offerings to the forest stopped.
“So soon?” Yael adjusted the bags as they reached Port Street and turned towards the market. The crowds thickened. Crowds in sleek black jackets and high hats from the west crossed the road. Many still holding tankers filled with drinks from the previous night. They lived in a world where light and dark melted together into one long and never-ending day. They saw Colodian as an acorn that could one day feed their homes but didn’t mind eating as much as they could from the land while they visited. Not to mention, if war returned and Emerlia prevailed, those who came could cut ties with the land and pretend their time on the continent was just a brief vacation from reality. They all had homes to return to, homes far from this war and the northern skirmishes. Maybe freedom wasn't the lack of a home, but the building of one. The chance to go wherever you like without worrying about ever falling too far.
“The demand is high, feels like it’s ever growing. My dad is in high spirits about it, at least. He’s having Jaja work more hours than he ever had me work when I was his age.”
"I'm happy for you." Yael adjusted her sunglasses as they reached the crowds, pushing the frames all the way up her hooked nose, so the metal sides blocked her peripherals, and no casual onlookers could catch a glimpse of her eyes. She hunched her shoulders and kept her gaze on her feet.
“You sound a little more down than usual. Is it still about last night? If it makes you feel any better, I’m sure we’ll have another game tonight. No way Toni can be hot two nights in a row. You know how short his luck is when he can find it at all.”
“It’s not that,” she said.
“Elias?”
Yael nodded. It wasn’t the insults, she could handle those—she had managed them all her life. But the comment about her father leaving her stung. She knew nothing about him, let alone if he left. For all she knew, he died fighting the war, but not knowing didn’t make it any better. What if he did leave her after her mother died? Whenever she asked Ms. White about it, she would always say, “it’s impossible to know for sure," or "There are far more important things to worry about today." But half of her life died when she came into the world, and the other half disappeared without a trace.
The systems were a mess after the war. The government was doing everything in its power to make sure children had roofs over their heads. Finding Yael a home was far more critical than finding her a father. Just another thing the war took away from her—not a family, but answers. Even if he didn’t fight, there was no way to find him now. While the streets all over the country still lined with supporters whenever Armstrong or a military precession arrived in a small town, Yael was only reminded of the system she and thousands of other children were cycled through.
“I hear Armstrong is gonna be in Wydser when we’re there." Jimo changed the topic when Yael remained quiet. She shrugged. There wasn't a person in Colodian or the entire continent for that matter who didn't know about Colonel Armstrong and his victory at the Twin Rivers. "Bet they throw some kinda parade for him." She had seen a few in Eselport, and the musicians always did well. Nothing brought out more generosity in a large crowd than the blue and red flag and a man covered in badges. However, Yael always preferred to be in the back of those celebrations—or a few blocks away, and she knew Jomi only went when his father thought they could sell something.
Again, Yael nodded without saying a word.
“Maybe you want to come with us? Bet you could mark up the price on those spices if you’re in the capital.”
“Maybe.” Yael pulled at the hem of her poncho.
“And, oh yeah, I forgot—last time we were there, we heard about a girl with the same kinda eyes like you.”
Yael stopped. “You what?”
“Same eyes as you. Didn’t see her, of course, but you know how it is. People talk. Said they’d never seen anything like it. Thought she was touched by the three gods or something. That’s the crazy thing about the capital though, you can find anything—”
“You didn’t see her though?” Yael wanted to ask what she looked like. What if they were related? She had never heard of anyone having her eyes. More often than not, she heard how no one should match the colors of the Mother.
"Didn't have a chance." He stopped his cart as he reached his first delivery stop. "Come by later for another game if you want!" he called as he walked inside, but Yael didn't hear him. She was too busy thinking about the girl in the capital—the girl with her eyes.
She could find her—she could go to the capital and look for her. The weight of reality tugged her back as firmly as the strings of the sacks digging into her shoulders. But what could she say? If they were related, how come they never came looking for her? Did she know about Yael? Ms. White was given as much background on Yael as the government had. All she knew about her life before being in the system was that Yael was found alone in a garden of purple and yellow flowers just outside Eselwayne, one of the small southern villages, and brought to the capital like all the other children without families.
A pressure boiled in her forehead and seeped to her temples. Closing her eyes, she tried to puff the air out in wafts of smoke through her ears
and forced out a deep breath. If it was meant to be, it was meant to be. Her life had never changed for the better when it was her choice. Chance was the only fair decision maker she ever knew, so her life moved forward one dice roll at a time.
3
Yael returned to her stand but kept thinking about the news Jomi shared. Could there be a girl with the same eyes as her? By the Mother of three, what were the chances another living soul could match that description? She used to think her eyes were a curse. Not just from the gods, but from the same people who made them. She adjusted her sunglasses as they rode down her nose.
It was chance that she was brought to Ms. White’s house. Plenty of the orphans after the war weren’t so lucky. They were packed in small residences in Wydser and other large cities until they were old enough to unsuccessfully beg. Unlike those children, Yael never had prime cadge years. Just a look at her big nose and discolored eyes would’ve made people think it was more charitable to kick her than to drop her a nickdem.
A man with a sleek black jacket and matching slacks walked uphill from the taverns by the end of the dock. His tie was undone, and the collar of his white shirt poked out. He sipped from a tin cup, and no steam came out of it, so Yael knew it wasn't a morning coffee. He smiled at all the stands then stared at Yael. She pushed the sunglasses further up her face and squinted, so there was no chance he could see. He approached her stall and thumbed through the leaves.
“Oh, those are—”
But before she could say the price, he grabbed two mint leaves and popped them in his mouth. “Hey, wait a second.”
He walked across the street and into Toni’s shop.
Yael followed the man with the high hat. Many of the fair-skinned foreigners were in there. A lanky one with a mustache so thin and straight it looked drawn on, examined a painting of the king of Emerlia in drag with the caption The Three Save the Queen under it. The one who took the mint leaves from Yael’s stand was at the counter, looking at the rifles on the wall behind the massive red-haired figure.
“Yael!” Toni called to her with a grin. Each day of summer peppered more freckles on his face. “Coming back to Jomi’s later?”
“Actually, came in here cause this man took from my stand.” She jabbed her thumb at the tourist who looked from Yael to the towering figure behind the counter, and his previously upright posture faltered.
“Did he now?” Toni’s open hands curled on top of the counter. The scars on his knuckles went white as he bared his yellow teeth.
The man pulled at his stained collar and turned back to the girl. “Sorry, it was an honest mistake.” His voice cracked, and he kept his eyes on Toni as he spoke to Yael. “Was out late last night. Don’t even remember walking in here. Love the—love the shop.” He went to pat Toni on the arm then pulled his hand back after thinking better of the motion. “How much do I owe you?”
Yael fell silent. She felt silly demanding payment for two leaves. They didn’t even add up to a nickdem, and there was no way he carried pennies. She just couldn’t stand the thought of returning home with anything less than the previous night. Not after Ms. White rationed what food they had left. She needed the money today to buy more.
“I’d say an Emerlian crown will do,” Toni said.
The man’s jaw dropped. “A crown for two mint leaves? You must be joking.”
“Thought it was an honest mistake. Thought you didn’t remember, and now that you do, I figured you’d want to not only repay the young lady for her spices but also her time.” He showed his yellow teeth once more and adjusted his vest, revealing the glint of a large knife in his waist.
“Of course. That’s exactly what I was hoping to do.” The young man brushed his now sweaty blonde hair off his forehead and forced a swallow. He slammed an Emerlian dollar on the table and rushed out of the shop.
The moment he left, Toni chuckled. “Come on, Yael, two leaves? Two?” He held up two fingers as he spoke. “And you left your stand unattended for that?”
Yael's eyes widened. She left her shop alone! She grabbed the coin and ran back into the street. Sure enough, a group of boys was pocketing everything they could find. "Hey!" she shouted, but they scattered, taking everything except a single sack. Yael dropped to her knees. Her breath quickened, and each inhale filled her lungs a little less. Her face went numb, and her fingers tingled. The world spun beneath her. The more she tried to force down air, the more it felt like a barrier blocked her windpipe. She leaned over her stand, barely holding herself up. The back of her throat scratched with each breath. She slipped to the ground with her back pressed to the wooden panels of her stand.
Her hands trembled, and pressure built up in her temples until her vision tunneled. It was happening again. She couldn’t make it a whole day without making everything worse. Elias was right—if she had any family left, why would they find her? She would be nothing but a burden to them.
“Yael?” a high-pitched voice spoke up. She lifted her head from her palms and saw Jaja standing in front of her. He had a folded piece of paper in one hand and wore an apron around his waist like his brother. His wild curly hair was tied back. “Are you okay?” He stretched his hand towards her, but Yael remained still. Her left hand rubbed her right forearm. Her fingers sank into the grooves from her scars. She could feel the flames licking her all over again.
“Yeah—just fine—just fine.” She sniffled and wiped the corners of her eyes. The memory of Ms. White taking the blame for her fire hovered in her brain like muddy water. He grabbed what was left from the stand. Two basil leaves were pinched between his fingers, but he didn’t run away or tease her. He put them in the only remaining sack and sat beside Yael. She rested her head on his shoulder, and the two sat in silence.
Mr. Lamb handed Yael a bowl of chicken stew while his boys cleaned up the shop. Jomi had just filled his father in on the boys who ransacked Yael’s stand. She couldn’t bring herself to recount the story. Now that the monthly payments from Wydser stopped, how many more mistakes would Ms. White put up with? It was only a matter of time before she was returned to the system.
“Rotten kids, the lot of them.” His thick black mustache wiggled as he spoke about the scoundrels who robbed Yael’s stand. Yael nodded. Jaja turned the radio up as he and his brother cleaned. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asked.
Yael nodded. The warm liquid filling her stomach spread through her body, its comfort held her hands. She still had to go home and face Ms. White. The empty sack draped over the back of her chair, as hollow as any excuse she could come up with. "Jomi says you’re heading back to Wydser soon.” Yael finished her bowl just as Jomi and Jaja joined her and their father at the table. Mr. Lamb rubbed his youngest son’s head. Jaja giggled and took a big bite of bread.
“That’s right. High demand up there right now, and offering to pay more than the other continents, that’s for sure.” He sipped water from his cup. The logs in the fire beside the wooden table crackled.
“I should get going,” she said. Every second in the room tightened the blanket around her. If she waited any longer, her legs would be too heavy to move.
“You can’t go yet. We have a whole chicken on the stove.” Jaja popped out of the back, rubbing his hands over a washcloth. Yael would’ve loved to stay, but each second she put off Ms. White felt like she was adding another keg of gunpowder to the end of a lit fuse. Jaja and Jomi were able to eat a family dinner with their father every night. The food at Ms. White’s home was every bit as good as theirs, but something was always missing—something she found between Mr. Lamb and his two sons. Marcel put Jaja in a headlock, and the two laughed as the youngest son slapped his father’s shoulder and tried to wiggle free. Jomi entered the kitchen and kissed the top of his father’s head. Sitting in their presence was only a reminder of what Yael never had.
The dining room fit them all comfortably. The square table sat in the center with three candles lit in the middle, and the bare walls had two gas lamps a piece o
n them. A bookshelf rested on one side of the fireplace next to Marcel’s office and a plush chair on the other. A single fan hung overhead and whirled to life when its crank on the wall by the stove was wound up.
Jomi sipped his stew while Jaja slurped it. “President Wendell is hopeful her negotiations are going well, but the local guard is eager to load up on any defensive equipment they can get. Got an order in Wydser and the neighboring towns,” Mr. Lamb said.
“Any surplus can be sold at the Wydser market too for almost twice the price. You should ask Ms. White to send you there with spices. Everything up north is so expensive.” Jomi finished his soup and used his bread to sop up all the broth.
Yael doubted Ms. White would want her to leave the port. Especially after the last two days. "Do you know for sure if there really is a girl there who—looks like me?" She brushed her hair over her left eye. Without her sunglasses, she felt naked. Like she was trapped in the back corner of a chest, and the entire world could hover over her and watch the freak.
"Didn't see her, but there were plenty of rumors. By the Three's sanctuary, I heard some saying she was a true descendant of the Mother. That the blood in her veins came from a god." Mr. Lamb slapped the back of his younger son's head as the slurping grew louder. Jaja sipped quietly for the rest of the meal.
“When do you leave?” Yael asked.
“First light,” Mr. Lamb
