“It’s been four days,” Isiah grunted as he sat down beside her. “Four bloody days. How could it possibly be taking this long?”
“There are a lot of people,” Samuel commented, looking up from the book he had borrowed from one of the guards. It was a manual really, a law book that a couple of guards had a right laugh when a redheaded one handed it over. Apparently, they never expected him to actually read the thing. “There isn’t anything we can do to speed this along, Isiah. Stop fidgeting.”
“Are we to stay until they pack us on a ship bound for Creators only knows where?” he snapped.
“They haven’t turned anyone away,” Payton pointed out. “We’ll get in. And I don’t think whining will speed it along.”
“Are you the Clark family?” a voice came from behind them. A guard had appeared holding a ledger in his hand.
“Evidently I was wrong. Next whine about coin. Say that it should be raining gold,” she said cheekily. Isiah glared at her as their father answered affirmatively to the guard.
“If you’ll follow me,” he motioned to them.
Standing, the four of them trailed after the mousy-haired guard, maneuvering their way through the crowd. Payton swallowed a glib comment about finally seeing what was behind the mysterious door as they were ushered inside. It was a simple room, four walls – obviously – bookcases lining them, a desk in the center, a couple of chairs, and a single window.
There was someone waiting at a desk. Ink was smudged on her nose and a pen poised in her hand. There was a mountain of papers on her desk and yet another ledger, this one open in front of her.
“Please, take a seat.”
Easier said than done given there were only two open chairs. Payton and Isiah motioned to Samuel and their father, who – after an awkward shuffle – took the seats. There was a beat of silence, tension and waiting, uncertain who might speak first.
“This is not an inquisition or an interrogation. We simply wish to get intake information for our records to be as thorough as possible. Do you understand?” Eyeing each other from the side, they all nodded. “Excellent. May I have your full names? Starting with the eldest of your party.”
And on it went. Names, relations, former occupation, what plans did they have once they entered the city. The questions were fairly standard but still, it felt invasive and heartbreaking when they had to reply. There was no wife and mother joining them. They had no jobs waiting for them. There was no home lined up. They had nothing. Truly had nothing.
“I’m afraid there is little that Imeryn can offer you,” the woman finally said after writing all the information she gleaned down. “We do not have the manpower to organize a workforce for the influx of refugees. As it is, our craftsmen are putting in hours they may not get paid their normal rates for as they attempt to build homes for our new citizens. We are helping the best we can because we know most of you have come with nothing, but frankly, times are hard and there are simply too many of you. You are four competent, uninjured adults and that puts you at the bottom of the list.”
Payton pressed her lips together. She wasn’t disagreeing with the assessment. In truth, she would have been upset if they had been given help in place of one of the refugees who had children but even so, knowing they were entering the city uncertain if they would even have as much as a poorly built roof over their head…
“I understand you have a friend within the city? A man by the name of…” the dark-haired woman scanned her notes for a moment and then looked up: “Simmons?”
Her father nodded, a little bewildered. “I contacted him before we left Vaelorn.”
“One of our guards, I believe one of you may know him, Darcy Bennett?” Samuel’s ears went pink at the mention, his grip on his book tightening. “He took it upon himself to try and track down your elusive friend. As it turned out, he had in fact received your letter but was unaware of your arrival in the city. He is waiting for you on the other side of the gate.”
Payton blinked. “You mean he’s here?” Isiah blurted what she had been thinking. That was a gamble they had been sure would not pay off.
“Indeed.” The woman was signing a set of four parchments with a flourish and then stamping a silver seal on the bottom. “Do not lose these. They are your papers, proof you entered the city legally. Guardsman Clemmons will escort you to get your things and then you shall be allowed within the walls.”
“And then?” Samuel asked.
“And then it is up to you what you do. Do not cause trouble or penalties will be harsh.”
It was all fairly surreal taking the papers and being ushered out of the office. There was nothing overly special on them, their names, the woman’s signature, the seal of the city and that was it. But it was enough, it would get them inside. They did not have anything to get because they hadn’t dared to leave their belongings behind.
It felt like it should be more climatic as the gates opened to let them inside but it wasn’t. Just iron bars parting and the guard motioning them through. Then a clang of them shutting and latching behind them. That was it. It was over, they were in the city. For a moment, Payton and the rest of her family just stood there. She wondered if the others felt as lost and intimidated as she did. Where were they supposed to go now?
“Leon?”
Her father turned and spotted someone coming toward them. It was an older man, likely close to her father’s own age but somehow the years fell harder on his face, the lines dug deeper – especially now he was smiling. He sported a scruffy look with unshaven stubble and messy dirty blond hair.
“James! Look at you,” her father greeted, moving forward.
“Me? Look at you. You got old.” The two shook hands, chortling at each other’s appearance. “I take it these are your kids. Last I saw of them, they were running around in diapers and Elaine was pregnant.”
“Aye. My eldest two, Isiah and Payton. And this here is my youngest Sammy.”
“Dad,” Samuel moaned. “Sammy’s the name of a gangly kid.”
“Right, you’re just a gangly adult now,” Payton teased earning her a glare.
Simmons let out a laugh that was a little exaggerated. “Why don’t we head out? It’s a bit of a walk to my place.”
“So you don’t mind putting us up?” her father questioned.
The man’s eyes raked over them before he answered. “It’ll be a tight fit. I had to shift things about in what used to be my workroom for your kids and they’ll all have to share but it’ll be livable for a while anyhow.”
“I don’t know how to thank you for this.”
Simmons flashed a wry grin. “Join me at my shop and I’d say we’ll be even.”
Her father’s step stalled. “What?”
“Are you going deaf, old man?”
“Old man? I’m younger than you.”
“Then you should have heard me clearly,” Simmons said triumphantly. “Even if you’re only half as good as when we were younger, you’d still be a damn fine whitesmith. You’ll bring in twice the business to my shop than I’m getting currently and I’d wager the rich folks in Uptown ain’t never seen the like of your fancy engraved designs before. ‘Cept in trade.”
“You’re offering me a job.” Her father sounded dazed.
“Gonna get your head out your ass and accept already or do I have to point out all the nice things I’m doing for you?”
Isiah leaned towards Samuel. “I feel as though we’re watching ourselves bicker.”
“I know. It’s really creepy,” Samuel muttered.
“All the nice things, you’ve done one nice thing in the last twenty years.”
“I’m getting your children a job too.”
“Wait, what?” Now it was Payton’s turn to interject.
Simmons glanced over his shoulder. “That’s right. I have a few connections with the workers down at the docks. It ain’t easy work but the pay is well enough.”
“You’re serious? You realize none of us have ever don
e dock work before.”
“Well, I could always put in a word at the brothel.” Simmons cackled at the sour looks he got. “I’m sorry, princess, you can’t cherry pick your perfect job. Times are hard and with all the refugees coming, jobs are being snapped up faster than a man disappearing when a whore shows up pregnant.”
She stared at him. Then her father. She could hardly believe her even-tempered father was friends with someone who was so… crass and chaotic. But Simmons had a point, though she was reluctant to admit it. They couldn’t be picky about what job to take and working the docks was honest work at least.
It wouldn’t be that hard… right?
THE PRETTY RECKLESS
Chapter Seven
Working at the inner city docks was exhausting. More exhausting than anything any of the Clark siblings had ever done before. For the first week of it, they were arriving at Simmons’ house barely able to move. They were barely able to expend enough energy to eat dinner before they collapsed in that cramped side room they had to call their own. Only to sleep precious few hours before they had to get up and do it all over again.
But for Payton, it wasn’t so much the exhaustion of the work or the tight living quarters that was slowly driving her mad. It wasn’t even the tense silence that hovered between her family that Simmons tried to fill. It was the schedule. The strict hours, following orders, obey this, do that. Never before had she realized how blessed she had been to flit from job to job, position to position, helping where she wanted.
Her previous jobs: helping to train the guard, design jewelry for her father’s business, teach whoever had the coin to handle weapons, even aid the baker when she felt so inclined, it had all seemed so normal for her. She had been doing it since she was an early teen and it was only now she realized how unusual it was. Never having the same hours, the same schedule, the same job every day unless she chose otherwise.
So now that the choice was taken from her and she had to follow everything so succinctly, it felt confining, frustrating, and wrong.
More than once it led to arguments with the foreman of the docks and had her brothers dragging her away just short of getting fired. She knew she should keep her tongue and just stay silent. Shouting at idiots didn’t stop them from being stupid. And more than ever she needed this job, needed to be there for her family, needed the coin to help provide food and save for a place of their own. Unfortunately, as of now, the docks were the only way to do that as no one cared to listen to refugees or cared what actual skills they could offer. They only cared how little they could get away with paying them.
So she bit her tongue and tried to keep her head down.
But she didn’t have to think about it today. Today was the Spring Equinox and they may be in a new country with new holidays and new laws – new home, new jobs, new everything – but some things would never change. The Spring Equinox was observed around the world, a holy day to celebrate the Creators and their gifts. It would be a day off, a day of rest and recovery that was much needed.
But it would be the first holiday without their mother.
Not unlike Aodhan, Imeryn threw itself into the holiday, decorating the streets, shops, and homes to celebrate. Flowers – the first of the season along with fabric and paper ones– adorned every part of the city, tied with ribbons, tangled with garlands, woven in with twigs and ferns into wreaths. It was an explosion of color and life, honoring the Mother.
And it made Payton miss hers all the more.
The mood in the small house five people shared was grim. Her father had opened a bottle of wine early that morning and had not stopped drinking. Simmons had not been much help in that department, instead of deterring his friend, he had opted to join him. Isiah and Samuel had not been much better, deciding to begin drinking at noon. By the early afternoon, she had had enough.
It took her nearly a half hour to find everything; carefully balancing it all as she carried it from the back room to the main. She paused in the doorway, staring at her family and Simmons, each slowly taking drinks from either a bottle or mug, a look of brooding sorrow on their faces.
“We can’t do this.”
Samuel didn’t even bother to look up. He just stared at the liquid in his cup. “Do what?”
“This. Drink yourselves stupid. Lose yourselves to silence and grief. Is that what m-mom,” her voice caught, “is that what mom would have wanted?”
Now she drew their eyes and their ire. “We will never know what she wants, now will we?” Isiah asked snidely.
“Dragon piss,” she snapped. “It’s been a month. You think I don’t mourn her? You think I don’t wish every second of every day she was still here?” She placed the bowl on the table along with the items in her hand. “It’s the Equinox. How can we justify letting it pass by like this?”
Her father abruptly stood up. Her lips parted, trying to find a way to speak but the words did not come. He still would not look at her. He grabbed the bottle off the table and walked away. A second later the door slammed shut, presumably the door to the bedroom he shared with Simmons.
The dirty-blond shifted at the table. “This has become uncomfortable. I shall go do my celebrating elsewhere.”
He lifted his mug, downed the rest in two giant gulps and stood. His arm brushed uncomfortably close to Payton as he scooted around the table – possibly the hundredth time he had done such a maneuver. But then, like her father, he left. Only in the opposite direction, grabbing his coat as he went out the front door.
Payton exhaled loudly through her nose. Simmons was… something else. She wasn’t certain if she liked him or not. He was normally obnoxious and loud and had admitted he had been down on his luck for a few years. Though she had to wonder how much of that was because he had been drinking most of his profits away. He always had a drink handy, even when he was working! A flask, a bottle, a mug. And the more he drank, the louder and cruder he could become.
“The Equinox is about celebrating life. Mom is gone, Payton. You of all people should know that,” Isiah said coldly.
She flinched. “It doesn’t mean we shouldn’t remember her. We should honor her life today. Not wallow in her absence.”
He slammed his mug down. There was a heartbeat where they all just stayed still, Isiah completely tense as he struggled internally. “Do what you want. You always do anyway,” he muttered before storming off. The second slamming door of the afternoon vibrated through the house.
Payton struggled to block the chorus of: “your fault” that was singing in her head. Her blue eyes turned to her youngest brother. He quirked his lips to the side in a strange expression he was known for when he was thinking. Finally, he glanced up and gave a quick and sharp nod.
A faint and relieved smile tugged on the corners of her lips. With shaking hands, she fumbled with the herbs she had found. They weren’t quite right but they would have to do.
“On this day, the day of new life, the gift of the Mother, we remember our own. Elaine.” She wasn’t certain what memories her brothers and father might want so she had brought everything.
Samuel stared at the items for several seconds before reaching out and plucking a few sprigs of mint. “I was never like my siblings. Never the fastest or the strongest. I thought I’d never amount to anything. Mom always made me feel important. Special. Like I could be someone. She taught me true strength comes within your spirit not within your body. For this, I remember her.” He sprinkled the leaves in and then plucked a trinket, a locket that had belonged in their mother’s family for years, from the pile on the table. He placed it next to the bowl and then bowed his head.
“I was sick.” The voice came from behind them causing both to start. Isiah was there, his arms crossed. “No one knew what it was. When I was six or seven. Sam was just a toddler. Dad had to take both him and Payton out of the house to keep them safe but mom wouldn’t leave me. No matter what the medics said. I was so scared. But she stayed by my side. She taught me true healing can come from t
he heart as well as the body. For this, I remember her.” He took a pinch of thyme and dropped it into the water and then placed an aloeroot potion around the outer rim of the bowl.
Payton stared at him, gratitude shining in her eyes. He gave her a look that made it clear he was not doing this for her but it didn’t matter. He was doing it.
Blinking back tears, she faced the bowl. “I… I remember the day mother had me help her for the first time in the kitchen. I made a mistake and the whole house smelled of cinnamon for a month. It cost a fortune but she wasn’t angry with me. She never got angry with me when I made mistakes like that. She taught me love is not conditional. For this, I remember her.” She added the cinnamon stick to the bowl of water and then hesitated before tugging the blue ribbon forward and adding it to the circle around the bowl.
For a heartbeat, she waited, hoped, prayed even, her father might come out. That her father might reconsider and join them but the door remained shut. Closed off to them, to the memory of their mother, to her.
Taking a breath, she placed the candle in the center of the water. Her hands were shaking as she struck the flint to light the wick. “With this flame, we remember your light. We remember you as you were, not as you are.”
“We honor your love and goodness,” Samuel added quietly.
“We honor your stubbornness and beauty,” Isiah continued.
“We honor you for giving us life,” they recited together.
“We honor you, mom,” Payton whispered, a tear running down her cheek. “And we miss you so much.”
Then it was over. The three of them sat there in silence of a different sort for a while. Each lost in their own thoughts, their own memories, each watching the candle flicker away as it floated atop the bowl.
Finally, Isiah stood and mumbled some excuse to leave, hurrying out of the house as though something had bitten him. Samuel was quick to follow, appearing with a book – a different one this time – he had borrowed from the same officer and claiming he had to return it. Payton felt the weight of the loneliness creep in on her and she buried her head in her arms and cried.
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