by E. S. Maya
Safi squinted. The landscape ahead was pooled in shadow, but on its surface, in the distance, floated a single yellow flame. “The bonfire,” she said.
Rebecca’s voice came out quivering. “I wonder why they put it so far from camp.”
Raven snickered. “Easier to break rules when there’s no enforcers to come save you. And if anything dangerous happens…” she paused for dramatic effect “…there’s a big ol’ bonfire to hide the evidence.”
Hearing Rebecca whimper, Safi wrenched her wrist free of Raven’s grasp. “Your tongue’s as restless as your fingers!” she said. “Titans, sometimes you’re just so—”
The girls hooted in surprise as the ground came to a sudden decline. Safi’s boots were a blur beneath her, kicking up clouds of dust as she stumbled through her rapid descent. When her feet found purchase, she was standing at the base of a valley between two hills. From here she could make out the recruits of the bonfire, gathered by the hundreds, chattering like birds in the morning. From somewhere within the noise came the deep, hollow sound of a single beating drum.
Raven skidded to a stop behind her, and together they waited as Rebecca picked her way down the hillside. Then they shook the dust from their clothes and, with some hesitation, continued towards the bonfire.
By the time they stepped into the firelight, the bonfire was tall as a house and as wide as a horse. A pair of boys were heaving pieces of wood into the fire from a dwindling pile of broken furniture. The fire hissed and crackled with each addition, and the light itself seemed to shiver. Safi rolled up her shirtsleeves and wiped the sweat from her forearms.
The girls were still composing themselves when she heard a pair of footsteps approaching, breaking away from the nearby chatter. She straightened her collar and looked. It was the pair of older boys from the chow hall.
One of them flashed his crooked teeth and tipped into a bow. “At last!” he said. “We are graced by your presence.”
Raven giggled, and Safi felt obliged to join her. Rebecca was not so generous.
The second boy, the yellow-eyed Serk, placed a hand at Rebecca’s back. Safi watched her stiffen at the touch. “Come and join us,” he said, guiding the redhead along. “It’s a small group, but we’re all dying to meet you.”
Safi hooked her thumbs beneath her shoulder straps and fell into step behind them. She wasn’t certain whether the yellow-eyed boy was speaking to the three of them or to Rebecca alone. Just thinking about it made her tummy ache.
The boys formally introduced themselves as they led the way through several small crowds. Safi’s attention was elsewhere, wandering the orange-lit faces of the crowds surrounding the bonfire. She spotted Matilda, cherry-faced with laughter, each thick arm pressed to the back of a different boy. And Suzy, perched alongside her fellow second-years on a circle of stumpy stones. The freckle-faced girl gave them a wink. Raven rolled her eyes and returned a quick, dismissive wave.
Safi scowled when she spotted the fifth-years, lounging in wooden chairs around a long pine table. The boys sat large and hunched while the girls were all curves and smiles. Noth leaned back in his seat, sipping neatly from a metal flask. Hannah sat curled on his lap, howling with laughter at some impossibly funny joke.
Meanwhile, the younger Serk slowed his pace, guiding Safi and her friends towards a circle of older recruits.
“What’s this then?” said a boy with an abundance of body hair. He stepped aside to allow them room. “An Anderan, an Abed, and a Resmyran?”
“Sounds like the beginning of a Titan tale,” mused a girl with thin blonde hair. Beside her, a shorter, thick-faced girl nodded eagerly in agreement.
Rebecca attempted to slip away as the circle righted itself, but the yellow-eyed boy was ever beside her. There was much attention on the pair, and Safi was not so daft to miss jealously when she saw it.
Then began conversation. Where Rebecca was silent, Raven engaged the older recruits in exaggerated tones and dramatic gestures. Safi found herself standing beside the boy with the hairiest knuckles in the world. Each time he spoke, she smelled the liquor on his breath and fought the urge to gag. All in all, the group seemed to speak of many different things and nothing all at once.
“Where did you find this one?” the thin-haired girl asked, motioning lazily towards Rebecca. “I just love your hair.” The thick-faced girl nodded in agreement.
Safi gave her a suspicious look. Sure, they’d never actually spoken to these girls, but they slept in the same barracks. It wasn’t like they were complete strangers. The thin-haired girl’s reaction didn’t seem to reflect that.
“You know the saying,” the yellow-eyed boy said with a grin. “The higher the apple, the lower the tree.”
A few of the recruits chuckled, Raven included. Safi scratched her eyebrow, confused. She peeked at Rebecca, and the girl looked petrified.
“We don’t get many Resmyrans at Camp,” the crooked-teethed boy explained.
“Is that so?” said Safi so forcefully she surprised even herself. She set her hands on her hips and looked beyond the circle. “Why, I can spot a few of them now.”
“Not that many Resmyran girls,” corrected the yellow-eyed boy, drawing Rebecca close for emphasis. “We’ve got more than enough redheaded bastards.”
At that, the stares of the older girls leapt at Rebecca like swords from sheaths.
“More than enough Serk boys, too,” Safi countered, forcing herself to smile, “if you ask me.”
“I didn’t,” the yellow-eyed boy said, forcing a smile of his own. He turned to the redhead beside him, looking upward to catch her gaze. Rebecca swallowed, Raven grinned, and Safi gritted her teeth. “In fact, you might be the first Resmyran girl I’ve met.”
“Well I’d heard tell that all Resmyran girls have green eyes,” said the thin-haired girl from across the circle. Her thick-faced friend nodded in agreement.
Reinforcements, Safi thought. Bless the prophet.
Raven moved close to Rebecca and popped up on her tippy toes. “Nope,” she said. “Just plain old brown on this one.”
“They’re not brown,” Rebecca snapped, and at the same time found the courage to place an elbow between herself and the yellow-eyed boy. “They’re chestnut.”
In a silent, smooth motion that lasted less than a second, Raven slipped between Rebecca and the Serk. His face twisted in surprise as Rebecca escaped from his grasp. Raven batted her eyelashes at him. “I’m the only girl with green eyes here.”
From the older girls came a sharp intake of breath. Safi felt her cheeks warming. “I think your eyes are very nice, Becca,” she said.
“Me too,” said the crooked-teethed boy, taking a clumsy step towards Rebecca’s freshly exposed side. But Safi was closer to her, cutting the boy off.
“I heard all Resmyran girls were really tall,” the hairy-knuckled boy said dumbly.
“That one is true,” Rebecca said, jutting her chin at Raven. “We are quite tall.”
“I sure noticed,” said the yellow-eyed boy, making another play towards Rebecca. But Raven clung to her arm, blocking his every maneuver.
“I noticed too!” said the crooked-teethed boy. He brushed his hands through his hair before tucking them into his pockets. “I mean, you were pretty hard to miss.”
The yellow-eyed boy laughed. “I was the one who pointed her out to you!”
“Well I noticed Rebecca before anyone,” Safi said proudly. “On our first day in Camp. Isn’t that right, Becca?” The older recruits looked at Safi in disbelief. She turned to Raven and Rebecca, who wore similar faces. Safi scrunched her nose. “What?”
“That wasn’t all I heard about Resmyran girls, though,” the thin-haired girl said.
The thick-faced girl put a hand to her friend’s wrist. “Don’t,” she said, though her smile said yes, yes, yes.
“You can’t not tell us now,” Raven said. “Not after teasing.”
Safi glowered at Raven. Just whose side was she on?
The thin-haired girl straightened her back and parted her lips. It took a moment for words to follow. “I’ve heard that the women of Resymr are as generous as they are tall.”
Safi swallowed, watching Rebecca’s face turn pale as fresh snow. She eyed the girl across the circle and said, “What do you mean by generous?”
“Don’t say it!” said the thick-faced girl, giggling as she reached for her friend.
The thin-haired girl kept her away with a skinny, effortless arm. She contemplated the stars for a moment, and said, “Generous with their bodies.”
“And their hearts!” the crooked-teethed boy added. “Such kind, giving people. Stone bless the prophet.” He looked around the circle and forced himself into laughter.
Rebecca’s face filled gradually with color, from white, to pink, to red. Red as an apple. Taking one long step forward, she pointed at the thin-haired girl. Despite Raven’s mischievous smile, Safi noticed the Anderan’s fingers were twitching.
“We are not generous,” Rebecca said to the thin-haired girl, thrusting her finger for emphasis. “Not like that.”
The yellow-eyed boy stepped between them, looking uneasy. Safi noticed the thin-haired girl was smirking behind him.
“She’s just saying what she heard,” the yellow-eyed boy said, revealing where his true loyalties lied. “No need to get worked up over it.” He looked at the thin-haired girl, then around the circle. “We’ve all heard that rumor, ain’t that right?”
“I sure heard it,” said the hairy-knuckled boy. The thick-faced girl nodded beside him.
“Yeah, Becca,” Raven chirped. “I heard the same thing too. In fact, I hear about it all the time.”
“You do not!” Safi hissed. Her arms grabbed air as the snickering Anderan ducked beneath them. Then she looked up at Rebecca and gasped, for the girl of Resymr had risen to her full, towering height.
Rebecca’s perfect teeth showed between her pink, frowning lips. Safi felt a pang of jealousy herself; even in her anger, the girl was breathtakingly pretty. The redhead addressed the Serk, “The women of Resmyr are good honest followers of Holy Law; myself included, my mother included, Her Majesty included. The prophet herself included, stone bless her! Just because you heard some half-wit Titan tale about a whorehouse in Trebledour, doesn’t mean—”
“Let’s all take a breath,” interrupted the crooked-teethed boy, grabbing the Serk by his shoulders and easing him away from the bristling Resmyran. “He didn’t mean nothing by it. You know how Serks can be, especially after a couple years in the Titan mines.”
For all the squabbling, Safi noticed that the thin-haired girl and her thick-faced friend wore a pair of pretty smiles. They looked quite pleased with themselves.
“No, I don’t,” Rebecca answered, “And I don’t intend to find out.”
On that note, Rebecca raised her chin, turned on her heel, and strode away, long arms swinging. Safi and Raven looked at each other, then broke into swift pursuit. “See you around,” Raven called to the boys with a wink. Safi rolled her eyes, and together they ran to catch up.
29
Boys' Business
“You’re going to start fresh rumors,” Safi finally said, “that Resmyran girls are all tall and angry.”
The girls laughed, but not the sort of fleeting, ladylike laughter Safi’s mother had long imposed upon her. This was the sort of laughter that brought about aching tummies. That rendered prying glances all but powerless.
Rebecca lowered her fingers from her mouth, revealing an honest smile. “Good,” she said. “Better that than… whatever those boys were talking about.”
They walked on, wandering the crowds of the bonfire. Not quite searching, but not quite aimless, either. Safi brightened when they found the first-year boys, gathered by the dozen in the dimly-lit space at the fringes of firelight. How odd that none of the first-year girls sat with them. She had seen plenty of them mingling with the older recruits, closer by the fire.
“There’s some familiar faces,” Raven said, pointing at a trio of first-year boys. They were standing side by side, scooping fieldstones off the ground. Taking turns pitching them into the darkness.
Pausing his throw, Wulf greeted the girls with a smile. Stiv was quick to join him, waving a stone above his head. Jabbar stared at the girls, yet his hands remained still at his sides.
Raven propped up Rebecca’s elbow and waved her long arm back at them.
As they approached, Safi caught her hands fidgeting with the buttons of her overall straps. She faced the girls and gave the boys a dramatic, open-palmed gesture. “Rebecca, Raven, I present to you the members of Team Wulf.” She blinked. “Where’s Goggles?”
“Sleeping,” Stiv said, hiking up his trousers as he swaggered over to meet them. He slowed his step when his eyes met Rebecca’s. Safi peeked at the redhead, finding her expression unusually stern. Was Stiv going to fall in love with Rebecca, too?
“Who’s the Abed?” asked Raven.
Jabbar opened his mouth to speak. “I’m—”
“This here is Jabbar,” Stiv said quickly, “fifth member of our terrific mining team.” He slapped Jabbar on the back, sending the boy stumbling.
Raven snickered, then turned her grin towards Wulf. “You ended up with one-and-a-half Southerlings on your team?”
Safi frowned, and Jabbar’s dark eyebrows narrowed with disapproval.
Wulf rested a hand on Jabbar’s shoulder. “A Serren girl like you, I’m sure you’ve seen how well Abed can work.”
“I’ve seen how well they can steal, too.” Raven caught Safi glaring. “Don’t look at me like that. I meant it as a compliment.”
Stiv wiped his hands on his trousers. “What do you mean by how well they can work?”
“Plenty of Abed in the cities,” Wulf explained. “Like ‘em or leave ‘em, they get the dirty work done. Mostly in the warrens, but you see them in the trade quarters, too. Not so many in the high city.”
“Except for when royals come to visit,” Raven added. “At least in Serren.”
“Abedi royals?” Safi asked wondrously.
“Sure,” Raven said with a shrug. “They’re always mingling with the Anderan royal family.” She ran a finger down her chin and smiled. “Great days those are, to lift a purse or two.”
“Great day to get your ear notched,” countered Wulf.
Raven stretched her ears and stuck out her tongue.
Safi looked at her dark hands. “I had no idea there were so many Abed in the Northern Kingdoms.”
Wulf smiled. “Just in the cities, and only ‘cause of the Third War. You wouldn’t see ‘em in small towns. Ain’t that right, Jabbar?”
Nodding, Jabbar raised a hand in search of his missing hair. Instead he folded his arms high across his chest. “Since coming to the Northern Kingdoms, my brothers and I have lived all over the Sovereign Coast.” He eyed Safi warily. “Those people, their skin is nearly as dark as ours. The free cities are good to us.”
Not good enough to keep you from being sold, Safi thought.
“Nothing good comes out of the city,” Stiv said frankly. “Been to Perridus with my Pa a bunch’o times. The Men are fat or starving, the women empty their chamber pots in the street, and the children! Filthy would be putting it kindly. Even the wind there stinks.” He raised his arms for a stretch. “Give me the smell of countryside any day.”
Raven cocked her head. “Only you would judge a place by its smells, farm boy.”
They shared a round of laughter. Smiling, Stiv knelt to scoop a fieldstone off the ground. He took careful aim and pitched it into the darkness.
“So,” Wulf said. Half of his face showed in the firelight, the other was black with shadow. “Some bonfire, huh?”
Then began talk of work, of putting pickaxes to stone, or, in Raven’s case, knives to vegetables. There was no talk, Safi noticed, of putting needles to fabric. Eventually, Rebecca leaned into her ear and whispered, “Safiyas, let’s head back to the barracks soon.”
“The night needs a good drink,” Stiv said abruptly. “It’s not a bonfire without a good drink.”
Safi gasped and shook her head. “We’re too young to drink.”
Snickering, Raven gave Stiv’s elbow a playful shove. “Stiv will always be too young to drink.”
“I wouldn’t mind a glass,” Rebecca said, much to everyone’s surprise. “Though I doubt you’ll find good wine in Camp Cronus, and I refuse to drink anything less.”
“I bet them fifth-years know where to get some,” Raven said, nodding towards the bonfire.
Safi followed Raven’s eyes to the fifth-year table. There Noth sat at the head of its narrow length, surrounded by a handful of standing recruits. Their attention, however, was centered on a pair of boys settling into the two closest seats.
The recruit foreman smiled approvingly as the boys positioned themselves before him, facing one another. They rolled their shoulders and stretched their arms before setting their elbows on the tabletop.
Hannah approached the pair, chocolate curls bright with firelight, towing by the wrist a cat-eyed brunette who was making a great effort to smile prettily. The head girl took her place at Noth’s side. Then, at a nod from the recruit foreman, the opposing boys met hands in a rigid embrace.
Spanky came bobbing up to meet them, face glistening with sweat. He squished his belly against the table and placed his hand on top of their fists. Over the crackling fire and ever-increasing chatter, he cleared his throat and shouted, “Begin!”
The audience rolled with excitement as the opposing fifth-years jolted in their seats. Safi watched from afar as the boys began to tremble in place. A web of veins crawled up their forearms and wrists. The sight left her squirming, yet she couldn’t bring herself to look away.
Safi blinked. She remembered this game.
This was arm wrestling.
Their arms slammed down on the tabletop. The crowd roared with approval as the victor threw his fist in the air. The loser leaned over the table, clutching his wrist to his chest. Eyes aflutter, the cat-eyed brunette leaned towards the winner. He took her by the neck and pulled her close, delivering upon her lips a powerful, open-mouthed kiss.
