by E. S. Maya
Safi swung her boot and thumped the man in his shin. “Old enough to spot a drunk when I see one!”
The man gritted his teeth and grunted in pain. Lowering his chin, he revealed a twitching plum-red face, knotted stiff with anger. Safi felt herself shiver. It was the look of a man capable of violence. “You Titan-loving little—”
But then his expression softened, and Safi felt a great presence behind her. The man lowered her arm until her heels met the floor. She looked up and saw Kemal’s massive hand, engulfing the miner’s wrist like a fist around a porridge spoon.
“She is no Titan worshiper, friend,” Kemal said. “Sat next to her in church myself.”
“Like I give a damn about that!” the man spat. “She busted my beers!”
“I’ll buy you your damn beers!” Kemal reached into his belt, slamming a purse on the bartop. “Now, seeing that it’s Blessing Day, we’ve got nothing left to quarrel about, do we?”
“Suppose not,” the man grumbled. He released Safi’s wrist, and Kemal returned the favor. The clavichord continued its merry song, and the chorus of conversations returned to The Sleeping Canary.
Rubbing her wrist, Safi watched as the giant perched himself over his barstool. “Four beers for that friend,” Kemal told the bartender, nodding over his shoulder, “and a glass of milk for this one." He looked down at Safi and patted the stool beside him.
“Thanks mister,” she said, climbing into the stool and resting her forearms on the bartop. The bartender slid a full mug of milk down the length of the bar. She snatched it up and took a long sip, then caught herself wiping her forearm across her lips. Too much time around the boys was doing a number on her manners.
“Child, why in God’s name would you come to a place like this?” Kemal whispered, intending to be quiet, but sounding out all the same.
“I had to find you,” Safi said sheepishly. “I’m a little desperate.”
“Find me?” Kemal said, sounding embarrassed, to Safi’s surprise. “It’s not so often that people come looking.”
“It’s a big and unusual favor,” Safi said, “and kind of the strangest thing, but I’m not sure who else to ask.”
“Out with it already!” Kemal groaned.
“Well, um, you see,” Safi said. “I need you to give me two pairs of mining pants.”
Kemal choked back a laugh, then took a swig of beer that cut his tankard in half. “Do I look like a tailor to you?” He let his laughter spill out anyways, a great booming sound that shook up Safi’s insides. “Strange, strange Southerling.”
Safi took an enormous gulp of milk, nearly choking on it, then slammed the tankard down on the bar top. “I’m serious!” She whipped out her coin purse, dangling it wildly in front of him. “I’ll give you all this month’s pay money for two measly pairs.”
“I said I’m no tailor! And I don’t want your Fivers’ Camp pocket change!”
Safi rolled her eyes. “I don’t want you to make me pants. I want your pants.”
“Stone bless the prophet!” Kemal said. “What in the world do you need my pants for?”
Safi thought to tell him about Raven and Rebecca, about everything that had happened, but paused. “It’s kind of a secret,” she said.
“I don’t go about handing out trousers, friend,” Kemal said. “Never have, never will. At least not without good reason.”
“Quit sassing me, mister,” Safi said. “I said I’d pay up fair, so what’s the problem? I could be stitching ‘em up to slap on Cronus’s stony ass for all you care.”
Kemal’s voice came out in a low hum. “Strange female Southerling.” He tipped back his head and worked down the rest of his beer. Tankard to his lips, he peeked open one eye and said, “It’s for a good reason?”
“A terrific reason!” Safi said, throwing up both hands. “I’m only a first-year, but I’ll make it up to you one day.” She crossed two fingers over her heart. “Miner’s honour.”
Kemal stared into his empty tankard. “Then you’re not paying a thing.” Safi frowned, but before she could protest further, the giant rose from his seat. “If it’s for a good reason.” He left a handful of iron pennies on the bartop and started towards the exit. “Finish your milk and follow me.”
41
Shades of Blue
Safi watched in silence as Rebecca drew stitch from seam, disassembling the two large pairs of pants. She removed the pockets and belt loops last, spreading out on Safi’s bed four large panels of midnight blue canvas. Then, with everything sorted and tidy, she poked through her wooden sewing box and produced a pair of scissors.
Safi scooted back and folded her legs, to allow the girl some room.
Rebecca’s scissor-hand began its cuts, some straight, others curved, all of it smooth and precise. One panel was halved, the others trimmed and shaped. From the box came a needle and thread, and then she was stitching all the pieces back together. The work seemed nonsensical to Safi, but she trusted in Rebecca’s confident needlework. The four canvas panels became one, and on the inside went two sets of trouser patch pockets. A pointed hood finished the garment, with a metal trouser button for its neck clasp.
“It’s perfect,” Safi said.
“I suppose,” Rebecca said, easing the garment through her long fingers. After inspecting every inch, she passed it across the bed.
Safi folded the garment into a neat square and tucked it beneath her blanket. “Now we wait.”
They spoke for hours, about work in the mines and the tailory, and then the gryphon and the Siegestone ceremony. Rebecca agreed that taking the full amount for oneself was best, and that pleased Safi greatly. She learned that Rebecca’s sentence was a mere ten years. That she was eager to return to Resmyr where she was betrothed to a boy from her town of birth.
“You must visit me, Safiyas, when you get out. My hometown’s called Beausejour, haven’t I told you? You must have heard of it, right across the Anderan border. We’re famous for our wine and cheese.”
“I will,” Safi lied. She could hardly pronounce the place, let alone visit it. She couldn’t bring herself to remind Rebecca that her own sentence was twenty-five years.
It was late in the afternoon when then the barracks doors received three resounding knocks. Rebecca stiffened at the sound. She stood up from Safi’s bed and gathered her things. “Don’t you dare tell her who made it,” she told Safi with a smile, carrying her sewing box in both hands to her bunk at the long end of the room.
The girls in the barracks silenced themselves when Hannah entered with the matron. A pair of broad-chested enforcers followed, escorting a short, black-haired girl between them. Hannah took small, apprehensive steps, but stood straight-backed, one hand on her hip. Eager to prove her position in the camp hierarchy.
“Now,” Matron Gertrude said. “I expect the both of you to be on fair behavior from this day forth.” She nodded at Raven. “Young lady, I do believe you owe your head girl an apology.”
“Sorry,” Raven said, looking up at Hannah, but not quite meeting her eyes. “It won’t happen again.”
Hannah looked pleased with herself. She looked down at the first-year and said, “Good.”
“And you,” the matron said, turning to face the fifth-year. “I expect order to be kept in these barracks. Any more fighting, and perhaps I’ll need to find a new head girl!”
“Of course, Matron,” Hannah replied through closed teeth.
The matron gave the room one last looking over. Smiling cordially, she led the enforcers out of the girls’ barracks, who slammed the doors shut behind them.
Hannah took a moment to scowl at Raven. Then, much to Safi’s surprise, she brushed back her curls, turned around, and stomped back to her bed near the main doors.
Raven lowered her head and took her time crossing the room. Safi rose out of bed to meet her. The girl’s hair was past her ears now, and her brown burlap dress was covered in splotchy black stains. She was thinner too, as small as Safi was when she had first a
rrived at camp.
The girls met, and Raven looked up. “Blondie—”
Safi threw her arms around Raven’s shoulders, pulling her close. She had become so skinny and it was all her fault. She pressed her face to the top of Raven’s head and began to sob. When the two pulled apart, Raven’s eyes and face were red.
“I’m not crying,” Raven said with a sniffle. “You just hug too damn strong.”
They sat side by side on Safi’s bed, saying little to nothing. Safi wanted to tell her about the Siegestone ceremony, and the gryphon, and about her run-in with Noth. Instead she found comfort in silence. Being close to Raven was enough. It was good to have her friend back.
Then she remembered Raven’s present.
“Oh yes!” Safi said, fishing beneath her blanket to retrieve the midnight blue garment. “Rebecca and I got you this.” She held it out with both hands for Raven to take. “She told me not to tell you she made, though.”
“Titan’s ass,” Raven said. “You didn’t have to get me nothing.” She opened her arms for a hug and Safi returned the gesture, gently this time. Raven took the garment and stood beside the bed. She held it by the hood and allowed it to fall open.
Raven gasped. She immediately bundled the garment and stuffed it beneath Safi’s blanket. “A cape! You made me a cape!” She peeked under the blanket and then quickly lowered it. “It’s perfect!”
“That’s what I said.” Safi smiled brightly. “Don’t you want to try it on?”
“Not in here.” Raven patted the lump under Safi’s sheets. “Later, after light’s out.”
“A fine plan,” Safi said. “Then I can give you your second present.”
When the collective snores of the fifth-year girls rumbled throughout the room, Safi reached up and tapped the wooden frame beneath her bunkmate’s mattress. Then she slunk out of bed.
Raven dropped from the top bunk, landing in a crouch beside her. Safi was impressed, for the girl made not a sound. She gasped when she spotted the yellow eyes staring out from the next bunk. But it was only Pearl, laying sideways in bed, up to her nose in blankets.
“Going for a stroll,” Safi whispered. “Keep an eye out for us?”
“Okay, Safi,” Pearl said, quiet as a mouse’s breath.
Raven tucked the cape underneath her armpit as Safi led the way to the cleaning room. “Over here,” Safi said, hoisting one of the empty shelves and easing it out the way. She knelt on the floor and pressed her palms against the wall’s lowermost panel. It fell loose to reveal an opening, just wide enough for a first-year girl.
“Clever, clever.” There was a slight tremble in Raven’s voice.
“Pearl found it,” Safi explained, “and don’t you tell anyone.”
Raven crossed her heart with two fingers and winked. “Thieves’ honour.”
Safi crawled out on her hands and knees. Raven passed the cape through and followed after.
“Let’s see if this thing fits,” Raven said, swinging the cape over her shoulders. There came a gust of wind, sending the fabric snapping behind her. She caught the cape with both hands and pulled it against her back. The hem brushed against her calves, and the hood barely covered her eyes. Most importantly, under the darkness of night, the midnight blue cloth was indistinguishable from black.
Raven clasped the cape shut around her neck. Her teeth flashed white in the dark. “You better lead the way.”
Safi took the long way around the Fivers’ Camp, a fair distance from the road, sneaking behind chow hall and out to Lazar’s Crossing. “Pearl says to only come out at night,” she said. “Too risky at daytime.”
“I know the basics of thievery, Blondie.”
“Just thought I’d remind you,” Safi said, scanning the dark lumpy shapes of Lazar’s Crossing. She gave Raven’s cape a tug. “This way.”
Even during the daytime, the Titan stones were difficult to tell apart. Cronus’ mighty arm had broken into several thousand similar pieces, and Pearl’s hiding stone looked like any other, only it was marked nearby by an unusual, triangle-shaped rock. Like an arrow pointing the way.
A minute of searching later, Safi came upon the hiding stone and pushed it with the heel of her boot. It fell over to reveal a clean-cut hole into the hard, dusty ground. Nestled inside was a narrow wooden box.
Raven whistled appreciatively. “That little runt dug this all on her own?”
“Right under the noses of the fifth-years and enforcers,” Safi said, putting her hands on each end of the box. “Ask nicely, and maybe she’ll teach you a thing or two.”
Raven squatted beside her and scoffed
Smiling, Safi lifted the lid. Inside were the many odd treasures of Pearl’s collection, neatly arranged by color and size. Colored candles, dried flowers, tiny earrings (Safi had noticed Pearl’s ears were not pierced), and a couple of small sacks, half-filled with coins, next to a larger Blackpoint money purse.
“My pay money!” Raven snatched up the purse and reached inside, combing her fingertips through the coins. “I was sure Hannah had got her hands on it.”
“Well she didn’t,” Safi said proudly, catching Raven eying the rest of the box’s contents. “And you’ve got to promise not to mess with Pearl’s stuff.”
“Yeah, yeah, I promise.” Raven set her money back inside. “Better leave this here for safekeeping.”
Safi lidded the box. “We ought to be getting back,” she said.
Raven nodded, kicking over some dust over the hole before Safi heaved the Titan stone back on top.
Back in the barracks, the girls lay facing each other in bed, sharing a pillow, not feeling the need for sleep. “I owe you big time, Blondie,” Raven said.
Safi smiled so hard her cheeks ached. “I know.”
Narrowing her eyebrows, Raven hesitantly asked, “What’s got you so giddy?”
“Just that I know a way you can make it up to me.”
Raven groaned, tugging over more pillow space. Safi yanked it straight back, and Raven hadn’t the strength to fight her. “Fine,” she said. “How in the world could I possibly pay you back?”
“It’s simple,” Safi said. “I want you to teach me how to fight.”
42
The Shoemaker's Son
Safi wailed on the drift wall, drowning out the voices of the chattering first-year boys. The Siegestone ceremony remained heavy on their tongues. In all her time in camp, she had never seen minecarts fill so fast.
Stiv and Jabbar lamented any discussion. Having wasted time blundering about in search of Safi and Wulf, they had found themselves at the rear of the crowd.
“It looked green,” Jabbar said. “And small.”
“And shiny,” Stiv added, in a tone so sarcastic Safi could picture his eyes rolling. “How could you forget shiny?”
Chipping away, Safi paid close attention for anything green and shiny. A swing of her pickaxe carved a fist-sized stone from the drift wall. It rolled between her legs and teetered to a halt behind her. Spinning about, she raised her pickaxe high and bashed the stone into pieces. No Siegestone of hers would find its way into the hands of a breaker.
Safi worked.
And while she worked, she waited. Waited for Wulf to hint or acknowledge what had happened between them at the Heart of the Camp. Waited for him to pull her aside and confess his true thoughts and feelings—like a boy should—which were a greater mystery to her than any Titan or gryphon.
Wulf made no mention of it, nor did he speak to Safi at all that morning. She thought him cross with her, but it was impossible to tell. The boy was always so damn quiet.
She took her frustrations out on the drift wall.
Lunch was a pickled sausage and a slice of sharp cheese, wrapped in a roll of bread. Safi ate in silence, thinking of Siegestones, and Wulf, and Raven, and worrying about their stone-covered hiding spot being found by that foul witch of a girl, Hannah, and what she would do if she ever did find a Siegestone, and how things were getting along back home with Mother,
and Mary Ruth, and even the old butcher whose name now escaped her.
Swallowing her final piece of sandwich, she realized she had finished her meal without having enjoyed it at all.
The work bells sang the miners back to their feet.
Hours later, Team Wulf made quota for the second time, and well before the end of shift. Jabbar and Stiv approached the minecart at once, bickering over who deserved to deliver it to the Pit.
Wulf stepped away from his work area. He pushed himself between the boys, setting his hands on the minecart handle. “I’ll take it,” he said, and both of them stilled their tongues. Over the past two months, Wulf’s word had become law on all things mining.
Safi let her pickaxe slip from her shoulder, setting it against the drift wall. She met Wulf at the minecart, crossing her left arm over his right. Gripping the handle tight, she swung her hips to push him aside. “I was supposed to take it last time.”
Wulf narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to speak. From his expression, she knew he wished to remind her of Noth, and how he’d nearly tossed her down with the Titan rubble two days ago. Knowing Wulf, she guessed he’d say no such thing. At least not in front of the other first-years.
Her intuition proved right. Seconds passed before Wulf found his words again. “No,” he said, in his most authoritative tone. “I’m team captain, and I say I’m taking it.”
He moved to shoulder her out of the way. Safi held fast to the handle. She was no longer so easy to move. “And I’m a Titan miner, and say I’m taking it,” she said.
“I’m going to start pushing this minecart,” Wulf told her, “and you’re going to let go and get back to work.”
“No,” Safi said. “I’m going to start pushing, and if you don’t let go, well, that’s your own damned fault.”
“Safi.” Wulf said her name like a warning. “Gogs, pull her the hell off of there.”
Safi heard Goggles’ boots crunching dust behind her. “Don’t you dare!” The footsteps stopped. “Get back to work, Goggles.”
