by E. S. Maya
But the work was shorter this time, and the needle was soon replaced by the sting of wet fabric. Safi hesitantly opened her eyes. The working man was pinning a wet rag flat over her forearm. Bright red dots swelled on the surface. Whether his gentle touch served his work or Safi’s faltering constitution, she was grateful all the same.
“Not a sound out of this one,” an enforcer remarked.
“Southerlings mustn’t feel pain,” the other enforcer said. “Tough little bastards.”
“No wonder they won the war.”
The enforcers shared a chuckle as the working man removed the cloth and unbuckled the tight leather straps. Safi’s wrist burned exquisitely. It took her several deep breaths to muster the courage to look at her wrist.
There, tattooed in black against her swollen, bleeding skin, was the pickaxe crossed with the sword. The emblem of the Blackpoint Mining Company.
15
Homestead
In the evening they walked the lantern-lit roads, a maze of flickering orange lines beneath the blackness of night.
Safi stepped lightly as the girls crunched dust all around her. Most of them had started to whisper, but she dared not chance to join them. Not with the enforcers so close by, hadn’t she suffered enough for one day? She did steal glances, now and then, at the towering silhouette of Cronus’ left foot. Even from afar, it cut a shadowy slice from the starry night sky. A breathtaking sight.
“Welcome to the Fivers’ Camp,” said the torch-wielding enforcer at the front of the line, startling her. Several girls jumped at the sound of her voice and whispered no more. The enforcer turned them down another road where they passed five large rectangular buildings. “The barracks,” the woman explained, “one for each year of the boys.”
And they made their way to the sixth. Its only entrance was a pair of brass-handled wooden doors. The enforcer set her torch in an empty sconce and retrieved a chunky iron key from her belt. She unlocked the doors with a click and ushered the girls inside.
Safi walked on her toes, peeking over the girls’ heads as they filed through a small antechamber. It opened into the main room, whose broad and high-ceilinged space took up most of the building. About a hundred bunk beds lined its wooden walls, each of them footing a sturdy chest.
The sight of so many people in an enclosed space made her want to run out of the building. Blackpoint couldn’t possibly expect her to share a single room with so many other girls. Could they?
“Hey, not too shabby,” Raven remarked. “And we get our own beds, too!”
Bunked nearest to the doors were the oldest girls in the room. They were climbing out from their beds, gathering to meet the newcomers. Safi’s hands went to her hair as she recognized the pair from earlier that day. Why, those hair-cutting heathens…
The older recruits made passage for a tall, thick-legged girl who wasted no time in approaching the newcomers. A curtain of chocolate curls bounced off her shoulders with every step, and her left hand seemed permanently affixed to her hip. Freckles spotted her arms and chest, and a strip of them ran across her pert nose and her healthy, well-fed cheeks. She tucked a curl behind her ear as she looked over the new recruits. Then she offered the enforcers something resembling a smile. “I’ll take them from here, ma’am.”
A second enforcer stepped up to join her partner. She looked at the curly-haired girl and chuckled. “Go easy on ‘em. Scrawniest bunch of first-years I’ve ever seen.”
“They’re in good hands, ma’am,” said the curly-haired girl. She dabbled in curtsy as the enforcers turned to leave. The smile vanished from her face the moment the doors pulled shut.
She turned to the first-years as a pair of older girls took up positions beside her. “Listen up, rookies, ‘cause I’m not going to explain myself twice. This—” the curly-haired girl waved her arm across the room “—is your new home for the next five years, so try not to muck it up.”
“Ain’t she a ray of sunshine?” whispered Raven in Safi’s ear.
The curly-haired girl’s bare feet thumped along the floorboards. Only instead than Raven, it was Safi who found herself face to face with the older and much taller girl. She stood uncomfortably close. “You got something to tell us, Southerling?”
Southerling. The word put an ache in Safi’s stomach. Anger came rushing out of her, and she found herself glaring at the older recruit. Then, as if remembering who she was, she took a short step backwards and lowered her eyes to the floor. “No, ma’am.”
“My name isn’t ma’am. Do I look like an enforcer to you?” The curly-haired girl hooked a finger beneath Safi’s chin and forced her to raise her head. “What’s your name, Abed?”
“Safiyas,” she mumbled, averting her eyes.
The curly-haired girl made a show of snatching Safi’s left arm, holding it up in the air. She looked about the room until all the recruits were watching, then slapped Safi’s freshly inked tattoo.
A gust of air escaped her lips. Pain sailed through her, followed by a sudden and complete weakness in her legs. The rest of the first-years gasped as a pair of older girls caught her arms, keeping her from collapsing to the floor.
“Abed don’t get any special treatment here,” spat the curly-haired girl. She took a deep breath and sighed, then stepped back to address the lot. “But where are my manners? My name is Hannah, the head girl in these barracks and all of the Fivers’ Camp. I don’t give a damn what you do at your jobs, but in this building you follow my rules, or the say-so of any other fifth-year who so chooses to address you.” She looked over the twenty-five new girls. “Is that clear?”
“Yes, Hannah,” the first-years answered, while Safi struggled to catch her breath.
Hannah ordered the first-years girls into pairs, to choose any of the empty bunks spread throughout the room. Safi groaned as the fifth-years handed her to Raven, who carried her, arm over shoulder, shambling across the room. After what seemed like forever, they came upon a bunk directly opposite the main door.
“That was my mistake, Blondie,” Raven said, letting go of their clothing sacks to take Safi in both arms. Safi made her body as limp as possible as Raven eased her into bed. The smaller girl grimaced from the effort.
Curled up in bed, Safi cradled her smarting wrist against her tummy, fighting back sniffles and tears. “You made a fool of me,” she said shakily. “An enemy of the head girl on the first day.”
“I said I was sorry.” Raven wiped her sweaty forehead and looked up. “You okay with me taking top bunk?”
“I hate you.” Safi rolled on her side and pulled up her knees. “Go pick another bunk across the room.”
“You’ll get over it.” She heard Raven toying with the lock of their bunk chest. It opened with a creak. “I’ll even unpack your clothes for you. Here, they left us a pair of keys.”
A rusted metal key landed beside Safi’s nose. Frowning, she tucked it beneath her pillow for safekeeping.
From her sideways view, she watched the girls of the Fivers’ Camp prepare themselves for bed. They spoke with a tired ease that did not betray the truth of their occupations. They’re slaves, she reminded herself, the whole lot of them. She squeezed her wrist until it burned again and swore she’d never forget.
Minutes later, Hannah marched to the center of the room. She placed a hand on her left hip and cleared her throat. “All right girls, lights out!”
A pair of fifth-year girls began circling the room, snuffing out the candles along its many windowsills. They lifted the windows and extinguished the lanterns outside, leaving the distant glow of the main road. Here in Camp Cronus, nightfall came twice. Conversations ended mid-thought and mid-sentence, as if the dark had stolen the words from the air, leaving the slow, steady breathing of over a hundred weary girls.
Breathing wasn’t the only sound in the barracks.
There was sobbing in the darkness. A choking, moaning, uncontrollable sort of sob. A pitiful sound that made Safi’s eyes wet.
I am not going to c
ry, she thought to herself. I am not going to cry…
If she were to survive, she needed strength in both mind and body. And heart. So she flooded her thoughts with happy memories, of her parents and of home, of Ashcroft’s main road, and even her mother’s cooking. Now that she thought about it, she would gladly trade her years in Camp Cronus for a lifetime of cabbage soup.
From the top bunk, Safi heard Raven crying gently. The sound almost broke her. At the long end of the room, one of the first-year girls was sobbing the loudest. When her cries became groans, some of the older girls began to shout.
“Some of us have work tomorrow.”
“If she wants to whine like a dog, put her outside.”
“Someone shut up that prissy Resmyran harlot!”
Safi rolled onto her stomach. She watched the head of the fifth-years march barefoot across the room. Hannah quickly identified the girl responsible for all the noise. The frightened first-year recruit named Rebecca.
“You going to stop crying,” asked Hannah, “or will I have to make you stop?”
Rebecca rolled over in bed, facing away from the older girl. She drew her knees close to her chest. “I want to go home,” she groaned.
Hannah grabbed Rebecca’s shoulder and spun her onto her back. “You are home, you stupid Resmyran whore.”
Safi clutched her pillow to her chest, heart pounding. It wasn’t enough that the Northerners hated Abed. They hated each other, too.
“Here’s the second rule of our barracks,” Hannah said. “Lights out means you shut your mouth and don’t open it till sunrise.”
“It’s a mistake,” Rebecca whined. “I’m not supposed to be here.” She buried her face in her hands and began to bawl.
Hannah sighed loud enough for everyone to hear. She wound Rebecca’s red hair around her fist and pulled her out of bed. Rebecca slammed into the floor. Hannah dragged her kicking and screaming to the center of the room. Then she was raining open-handed blows on Rebecca’s face.
“Teach you—what happens—when you don’t—shut up!”
Safi’s teeth clattered. She thought she might wet herself, but her fear of asking permission to use the latrine far outweighed that of soiling her bed.
When Hannah was finished with Rebecca’s beating, the girl of Resmyr cried no more. A few girls shared hushed comments. Others let out snickering laughter.
They’re worse than the Blackpoint men, Safi thought.
“Lights out for real this time,” Hannah said breathily, heels knocking wood as she made her way back to her bunk.
For the rest of the night, not a girl made a sound. Not Safi, not Raven, and certainly not Rebecca, who remained curled on the floor until morning.
16
Morning Chow
Safi sat up in bed, one hand clutching her blanket, the other her pounding heart.
For a moment, she was certain Camp Cronus was under attack. An awful shrieking sound was tearing through the girls’ barracks. Wrapping her pillow over her ears, she turned to look and, of course, the fifth-year girls were stomping about the room, rousing their fellow recruits out of their much-needed beauty slumber.
Massaging her throbbing temples, Safi climbed out of bed. Raven leapt from the top bunk and landed in a crouch beside her. Safi gave the girl a harsh look, knowing she ought to be cross for yesterday. But she was simply too tired to care.
Mirroring the older girls, Safi and Raven went about fixing their beds. It took one on each side to get the sheets straight. Uncertain what to do next, Safi looked around the room. Then her ears went hot, and her hands flew to cover her eyes.
The older girls were pulling off their sleeping gowns and shifts and revealing everything. Had their parents sold off their modesty, too? They began dressing in an assortment of uniforms. Some wore brown hemp dresses and clean white aprons. Others wore collared white blouses tucked into dark red skirts. A few wore leather bodices over their clothing. A pair of hardy-looking girls wore tunics and trousers.
Safi yawned and ran her hands down her sides. Thankfully, she was still wearing yesterday’s dress. She sat at the edge of her bed and slipped on her pair of hand-me-down leather shoes. Then, following the older girls’ lead, she and Raven hurried to stand side by side in front of their bunk chest.
Garbed in red, Hannah marched out to the center of the room. A fussy bespectacled blonde scurried after, unfurling a long paper scroll as she went. Hannah tapped her foot until all the girls were changed and ready.
“Begin count!” Hannah said.
The fussy blonde wiggled her nose and began barking off names from a list. The girls sounded off with “present!”
Safi grew nervous. It took until her turn to realize they were going in alphabetical order.
“Safiyas Azadi!” called the fussy blonde.
“Present!” shouted Safi, before slouching with relief.
When they got to the R’s, the fussy blonde scratched the side of her head. “Raven?” she asked, sounding uncertain.
The cat-eyed girl from yesterday leaned over her shoulder to look at the scroll. “There’s only one name, how odd. Do we have a Raven here?”
“Present!” chirped Raven, wearing a satisfied grin. Safi rolled her eyes.
After confirming the presence of every girl, the fussy blonde turned to Hannah and said, “All present and accounted for!”
The head girl cleared her throat and screamed, “Everybody line up for breakfast!”
The girls scurried around the barracks, forming a single file line that wrapped halfway around the room. The order went by seniority, and the new girls found themselves at the rear. Safi looked down at her feet as they marched, feeling like a pair of legs in a long, hungry caterpillar.
Outside, the buildings of the Fivers Camp followed the length of a dusty road. Each of the barracks stood identical to one other, rectangular and imposing. At the end of the road awaited an even larger building, taller with its steep angled roof. It welcomed the girls with a crudely-made sign nailed over its double doors.
In sloppy white paint, the sign read: CHOW HALL
The air inside was thick with the smell of porridge. Safi’s stomach growled. She was surprised to find the room full of boys, halfway through their meals. The building housed six long wooden tables, the last of which sat empty and waiting.
“Sure isn’t fair that the girls eat last,” she whispered.
Raven shrugged. “Food is food, so long as they leave some for the rest of us. Would you look at those boys eat…”
Hannah was first to the counter and the cooking girls took turns serving her. She picked up her tray and went to sit at the head of the empty table. Then, fetching their own breakfasts, the rest of the girls began filling the benches before her.
When it came Safi’s turn, she set a bowl on her tray and slid it down the serving counter. On the opposite side, a kitchen girl dunked a stained wooden ladle into a huge metal pot, big enough to bathe in. With a single scoop, she filled Safi’s bowl to the brim with steaming porridge. That got her mouth watering.
Safi scooted on, plucking a roll of bread off a shrinking pile, along with a cut of butter and a mug of warm milk—tucked into the crook of her elbow.
With short, careful steps, she followed her fellow first-year girls to the far end of the table. Hannah shouted to them as they passed, “Absolutely no talking during breakfast!” Safi looked down at her porridge, not daring to scowl openly at the head girl.
Settling into a seat, she watched as her fellow first-years slurped thick porridge and crunched stale bread. They dared not say it, but their faces told her everything. The food at Camp Cronus was awful. She tried a bite of porridge herself, then licked her wooden spoon clean. She took a second bite and swallowed with a smile.
Why, the food tasted just like home.
Beside her, Rebecca was clasping her hands together and muttering a quick prayer. Then she began to eat, wincing as the hot porridge met her bruised lips.
“How are you fee
ling, Rebecca?” whispered Safi.
Rebecca said nothing. She snapped her roll of bread half and dunked both pieces in porridge.
Frowning, Safi stuffed her mouth full of porridge to hide her embarrassment. She peeked across the table at Raven, who was chipping away at her bread with small, toothy bites.
Raven caught Safi staring and banged the roll against the wooden tabletop. “As if we didn’t have enough rocks around here.” Then she cracked her bread in two and slid a half across the table.
Sheepishly, Safi returned the favor.
Rebecca glowered at the pair. “Would you knock it off! You’re both going to get us in trouble.”
Safi leaned forward, peering down the long table. There were more than a hundred girls eating breakfast. She had never seen so much food at once. From a doorway at the far end of the room, she spotted an older girl carrying a particularly full tray of food. Rather than sit with her friends, she approached the first-years’ section.
“Mornin’, rookies,” the older girl said. She wore her hair in a low bun and her broad forehead was slick with sweat. Safi hadn’t seen a girl with arms quite like hers. Distinctly muscled, yet layered with healthy fat. She set her bowl next to Raven's and took a seat. Safi noticed her porridge was sprinkled with raisins. Oh, how she missed raisins…
“Matilda,” the girl introduced herself.
Safi and Raven and few of the other first-years whispered their names.
“Y’all are a quiet bunch,” Matilda said.
“We’re not supposed to talk,” Rebecca said. “Miss Hannah says so.”
“Did she now?” said Matilda. “Then I can talk and y’all can listen. I’m the head cook in the kitchen and I could use some new hands. Kitchen crew, it don’t matter what year you are—” she glanced at Safi “—or where you come from. Wake up early and work hard and you’re good with me.” She stirred her porridge while making eye-contact with each of the first-year girls. “Think about it.”
