by E. S. Maya
The pickaxe didn’t budge.
Not one inch!
The men burst into laughter. Arnalus slapped his knee and roared, “Stupid girl! You’ll be scrubbing shit for years! Now get—”
But Safi was trying again, dropping to her knees this time. She gripped the head of the pickaxe and attempted to stand. It rose for a moment before slamming back to the floor, sending her cartwheeling backwards.
“She’s quite persistent,” the warden said.
“Quite annoying,” countered the vice warden. “Are you finished, girl?”
Girl, Safi thought as she climbed to her feet. That was all these men saw her as. An underfed, pathetic little Abed who was only good for cooking and cleaning. The boys could work hard and earn respect, but a girl was always a girl. Scowling, she shut her eyes and lowered her head, eyebrows tight with concentration.
Then she remembered: the span of her father’s back as she watched him leave home for the mines each morning. The occasional pinkness of fever on his forehead and cheeks, and him rising for work even then. A sack of grain under one arm, a bundle of wood for the other. A crate of iron ore, heavy against his chest. A pickaxe over his shoulder.
Safi smiled a toothy smile. She stood before the pickaxe and spread her feet, creating balance. The wardens watched intently now. She squatted low, remember her father’s tree trunk-legs. Wrapped her arms around the pickaxe’s long handle, for she didn’t trust her fingers to hold it. She straightened her back, raised her chin, and looked right into the warden’s indifferent gray eyes.
And pulled, praying to the Titans that she possessed some of her father’s strength after all.
The pickaxe didn’t move. Not at first, but slowly, steadily, she began to rise, and the digging tool with her.
“Impossible!” the vice warden roared, left hand gripping the hilt of his old sword. “Just—inconceivable!”
Finally, Safi stood, pickaxe heavy in both arms. Just like her father, she rested it on her right shoulder. Its metal head pulled on her bony clavicle. The pain was crushing, and it felt like the digging tool might fall straight through her. “There,” she said, panting.
“Well done, Safiyas Azadi,” said the warden, lightly clapping his hands. The girl teetered with the weight of the pickaxe. The warden gestured to the door. “Well then, miner.”
Safi gave him the smallest bow of her life. She clung to her pickaxe and wobbled towards the door, slow and steady. She fumbled open the handle, stepped through the doorway, and kicked the door shut behind her.
And collapsed to the carpeted floor, pickaxe and all.
Safi emerged from the manor doors to the collective, disbelieving gasps of her fellow first-years. Even the enforcers took a few steps backwards as she tottered onto the deck, frail arms clinging to her Titan miner’s pickaxe.
She searched the crowd, eyes stinging with sweat, though she dared not chance to wipe them. Found Rebecca’s face above the heads of the staring girls. The redhead was smiling. Despite her burden, so was Safi.
All in a row, the first-year girls descended the deck and began their return to the Heart of the Camp. Safi brought up the rear, carrying her pickaxe in both arms, but bearing the brunt of its weight on her shoulder. The warden’s butler had helped her carry it downstairs, but now…
Now she was tipping backwards.
Safi watched helplessly as the world dropped out of view. The sky was blindingly clear and bright. She pictured herself falling, her pickaxe cracking a hole in the warden’s white stone path. Falling into a panic, she attempted to right herself. With no small effort, the grassy green meadow swung back into view. She was marching forth once more.
She smiled. Perhaps she was stronger than she’d first thought.
“Heavy,” said a familiar voice in her ear.
Safi looked to find Rebecca walking close behind her, straining with both hands to support the head of her pickaxe. She felt her cheeks go flush but made no motion to refuse the Resmyran girl’s help. If there was anything that outweighed her embarrassment, it was a pickaxe of the Blackpoint Mining Company.
“Thanks,” Safi said, trying her best to shoulder most of the load. Rebecca grunted in acknowledgment.
They passed through the wrought-iron gate and tread the dust of the empty square. Nearing the meeting hall, Safi spotted a hundred-some first-year boys standing in rows outside the building. Though they had yet to choose their jobs, each of them wore the same standard uniform: a blue button-down work shirt with two chest pockets, a pair of brown canvas overalls—and in a few cases, trousers—and wrinkled cap-toe boots. An impressive assortment of hand-me-down clothes.
Safi heard giggles from the front of the line. She leaned sideways to look, forcing Rebecca to stumble behind her. Then her pickaxe grew heavy as the both of them burst into laughter.
There were the boys, heads shaved and utterly bare, shimmering under the sun like the surface of a freshwater pond.
As the girls filed through the meeting hall doorway, Safi spotted Wulf in the crowd, bald-headed and grumpy, alongside a bored-looking Stiv, and Goggles, who looked about the same as the day she had met him.
Stiv’s mouth hung ajar as he caught sight of Safi, and the pickaxe over her shoulder. He began frantically elbowing Wulf, but by the time the boy humored a look, the nearest enforcer had made her way over. With two swift hands, she slapped at the backs of their shiny bald heads.
Safi, and Rebecca, and several other girls, broke into stifled laughter.
Raven was seated in the chair where Safi had left her, only someone had patched her cheek with a white cloth bandage. When the Anderan spotted Safi shambling in, pickaxe in hand, and the tall redhead struggling behind her, she leapt out of her seat and sprinted across the meeting hall.
“Titan’s ass, Blondie,” Raven whispered, stepping fast beside Rebecca to help carry the pickaxe. “And I thought I pissed the warden off.”
Safi and Rebecca laughed once more. Raven’s eyes went wide as the weight of the pickaxe fell upon her.
The enforcer at the front of the room snapped his fingers thrice. “All right ladies, on your feet and back in line!”
Pickaxe over her shoulder, and with Raven on one side, and Rebecca the other, Safi hobbled along with a smile. The three of them followed the enforcers and first-year girls, out of the building and on to their next destination.
Part II
20
Miner
There was a hand on Safi’s shoulder, and it was shaking the sleep out of her.
She blinked open her eyes, expecting to find the simple comforts of her humble cottage bedroom. There was the wooden frame of the bunk. The howling wind at the window. The purring snores of more than a hundred sleeping girls.
This was not Ashcroft village.
“We’ve gotta go,” croaked Raven, puffy-faced and eyes half-shut. It was her familiar hand on Safi’s shoulder. “Second-years came to wake us. Says we’re on first shift.”
Safi tucked in her feet and pulled her blanket tight. She shut her eyes and yawned, and felt like she could sleep forever.
“Safi.” Raven shook her again. “Come on.”
Fighting every natural instinct, Safi crawled out of bed, spilling her scratchy blanket all over the barracks floor. As she mustered the willpower to fix it, she caught sight of a girl with freckled arms approaching from across the room. Her forehead was freckled too, as was just about everything. A white apron clung to her canvas work dress, which skirted the toes of her creased black shoes.
“Suzy,” she introduced herself, taking Safi’s hand and shaking it once. The girl had quite the grip. “And you’re Safiyas. Don’t have much time. Morning chow’s in a half-hour and the food’s got to be ready by then.” She put her hands on her hips, waiting. “Well don’t just stand there. Fix your bed and put on your work uniform.”
Safi gathered her blanket off the floor and tossed it over her pillow and bed sheets. She looked out the nearest window, where the stars still shone
in the morning sky. “I didn’t think we’d be waking up so early.”
“Girl, that’s no way to make a bed.” Suzy eased Safi aside and squatted beside her. “Look—just go and get dressed.”
Nodding sleepily, Safi hobbled around her bed and cracked open her bunk chest. Folded inside was a crisp blue work shirt and a pair of brown overalls. Her brand-new miner’s uniform.
Smiling, she slipped off her gown and pulled on her work shirt, tucking arms into sleeves and fixing her collar proper. The cotton was cool to the touch and covered in tiny bumps where the previous owner had darned it. Not exactly new, but more so than any hand-me-down she’d ever owned. The recruit in charge of handing out uniforms told her it was the smallest size they had, and it still left her swimming in fabric.
Once she was all buttoned up, Safi reached for her overalls. They were the color of caramel and made from thick, heavy canvas. She set the garment on the floor and stepped into its legs, pulling it up to her waist. Then, one arm holding tight, she stuffed all the excess length of her work shirt into the overall’s depths. To finish the ensemble, she slipped the straps over her shoulders and fastened them nice and tight.
Now she felt like a miner. The gray woolen socks that came with the uniform had fallen to the floor. She scooped them up and took a seat at the edge of her neatly folded bed.
Suzy watched Safi as she began pulling on her socks. “You best get it done tomorrow, rookie."
Nodding, Safi leaned forward to reach between her legs. From under her bunk, she retrieved her brand-new pair of work boots, not hand-me-downs like the boys. Lucky they found a pair in her size, the Blackpoint man had said.
“That’s a miner’s uniform,” Suzy noted.
“Well,” Safi replied, rolling a sock up her skinny calf. “That’s because I’m a miner.”
“Figured you for kitchen crew.” Suzy glanced at Raven, who had gotten herself all tangled up in an apron. “Like the rest of the first-shift rookies.” She looked back at Safi. “How’s a girl become a miner?”
Safi fixed her eyes on the floor. “I just asked, is all.”
She tugged on her work boots. The brown leather upper felt oily and thick. The toes were capped with an extra layer of leather, must be for protection, which made her feet look like two big ol’ potatoes. The soles were also leather, and felt as stiff as wood. Her fingers began to fumble as she laced her boots to the ankle.
“Good grief,” Suzy said, kneeling at Safi’s feet. One boot after the other, she weaved Safi’s laces though four sets of shiny chrome eyelets. She pulled them tight at the ankle, tying off the ends in a pair of tidy bows. When Safi began to look away, Suzy held her in place by the cheeks. “I won’t help you with your bed or your shoelaces next time.”
“Thank you, Suzy,” Safi said with a bow, sending her blonde hair everywhere.
The older girl choked back a laugh, then gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Let’s get going, kid.”
The fourth-year called Matilda was pacing outside the barracks doors, shushing girls into silence. Yawns were stifled, footsteps made gentle, and yapping mouths ordered shut. Once all the recruits were gathered, the Matilda locked up the barracks, straightened her dress, and marched down the Fivers’ Camp road. The kitchen girls followed close behind her.
Leaving Safi, pickaxe in hand, wondering how in the world she was supposed to move this thing. She looked to the girls for help, but their backs were turned, and they were shrinking away by the second.
Wincing, she allowed her pickaxe to slip from her shoulder. It landed in the road with a crunch. That got her panicking. The last thing she needed was to be left behind. Not when she had started to make friends, and certainly not before breakfast!
Thinking fast, Safi wrapped her arms around the handle and dragged the pickaxe behind her. Then she smiled. It took some struggling, but the girls were getting closer. She was catching up. She wouldn’t be left behind after all.
At the front of the march, Matilda’s feet went still. She turned around to reveal a face so aghast that it sent Safi’s knees buckling. At the snap and point of a finger, the fourth-year sent Raven and Suzy scrambling to her side to help her.
Despite her hot cheeks, Safi sighed with relief. With Raven and Suzy’s help, she even got the chance to look over her shoulder. In the direction of the girls’ barracks, the head of the digging tool had carved a long, wiggling tail into the dusty camp road.
Suzy let go of the pickaxe the instant they entered the chow hall. She bolted for the kitchen doorway, and a series of lanterns bloomed to life inside. The rest of the kitchen crew filed in behind her, stretching their arms and tying their hair. Fixing their aprons for the long day ahead.
With some effort, Safi managed to prop her pickaxe against the wall. Then, without the slightest idea what to do, she folded her hands behind her back and allowed her eyes to wander. Six empty trestle tables striped the lofty room, and at this early hour the chow hall held fast to the darkness of morning. Through the windows, she could see the dust in the air, and the ever so dwindling stars of the Saerkonan night sky.
Weary with loneliness, Safi crossed the room and lowered herself into one of its many empty benches. A minute later, she mustered the courage to step into the kitchen and offer a helping hand. Matilda barked her straight back out to the main hall. “Leave kitchen work to the kitchen crew!”
So Safi clung to the doorway and peeked in the kitchen. This was Matilda’s domain, and her girls were loud and fast and efficient. A pair of them tended to a massive pot of porridge, while others worked an assembly of sizzling iron pans. A few quick-fingered girls wielded dangerous-looking knives, chopping an assortment of vegetables into tiny square pieces.
Safi breathed through her nose and smiled. Grain and eggs and salted meat. How breakfast ought to smell.
Matilda put Raven to task. First, the Anderan stirred too fast and splattered porridge all over the clean kitchen floor. Then, too distracted to focus on any one thing, she burnt an entire pan of sausages. Safi cringed. It seemed that Raven wasn’t suited for kitchen work whatsoever.
That was until she got a knife in her hands.
Never had Safi been impressed by someone slicing onions, but there it was. Even the older girls nodded in approval. Brushing away her tears, Raven balanced the butt of her knife on the tip of her forefinger. “No big deal.”
Once the kitchen girls had built up a sweat, and the light of day shone through the chow hall windows, the mining boys rumbled in. Recruit Foreman Noth was first inside, followed by his loud, thick-bodied entourage. At the rear of the queue, Safi was pleased to find Wulf, Stiv, and Goggles, dressed in the same uniform she was. She looked around nervously before crossing the chow hall to join them.
She jumped when Matilda stepped out of the kitchen, banging a wooden ladle against the bottom of an empty pot. “You boys know better than that! We’ve still got sleeping folk. Lock it up!”
“Yes, ma’am,” the boys said, in a tone both playful and obedient. Safi smiled. Even the fifth-years knew better than to mess with the girl who prepared their food.
“Oh, dearest Safi,” Stiv began, draping an arm across her shoulders as she joined them in line. “The Abedi apple of my eye. I knew we would meet again. The Titans must will it…”
Wulf scoffed, and Safi rolled her eyes.
“We were surprised to see you yesterday,” Wulf said. He raised a hand to adjust his helmet. None of the other first-years wore their helmets to breakfast, but Safi understood how the boy felt at once. She missed her hair, too.
“You all became miners,” she said, fingering the points of her shirt collar.”
“Most of the boys did,” said Stiv.
“Especially those with long sentences,” added Wulf. Goggles nodded in agreement beside him.
“And a few with short ones,” said Stiv with a grin, flexing his right arm. “After all, nothing beats a hard day’s work.”
Safi had a few things to say about that, but
the line lurched forward. Breakfast was served.
“I smell meat,” Stiv said, rubbing his hands together. “Maybe joining Blackpoint wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”
“You actually got to choose?” Safi said incredulously. “Must be a first in Blackpoint history.”
“Only after hearing tales of beautiful mining maidens and scrumptious breakfasts, dear Blondie.”
Wulf lowered his chin and sighed. “It’s going to be a long twenty years.”
Safi fought down a smile. Wulf’s sentence was nearly as long as hers was.
“It’s not all that bad,” Stiv said, pointing a thumb at his chest. “I get out in ten.”
When it came their turn, Suzy extended a ladle over the serving counter. She left Safi’s bowl brimming with porridge, and that wasn’t all. Piled around her plate was a scoop of scrambled eggs and a fat sausage, fried to perfection. Even bigger than the ones her father used to bring home.
They carried their steaming trays to the first-year boys’ table, finding the closest empty seats and tearing into their meals. The older boys chuckled at the sight, but that didn’t bother Safi. With a meal like this, hardly anything could.
Fork half-raised, Safi heard an unfamiliar voice behind her. “You gonna finish that?”
She turned in her seat. An older boy was standing there, looking enormous compared to the first-years. “Girls can’t eat so much,” he said. “Let me help you clean that plate.”
The older boy reached over Safi’s shoulder. Before she thought to mount a defense, her sausage was forked, floating away from her plate and into the older boy’s mouth. Down it went in three quick bites. The older boy stifled a burp and lowered a hand to his belly. “All clean.”
Safi stared at her meatless plate, then scowled at Stiv and Wulf. They ate with their heads bent low, downing their meals in silent diligence. The sight made her furious. Weren’t they supposed to stick up for her?
