by Jo Spurrier
I jumped back with a shriek, clapping a hand over my mouth to quiet the noise, and fled the room.
To settle my nerves, I had a bite to eat, just some bread and cheese and a couple of apples from the safe end of the orchard. While I was in the pantry, I heard strange noises through the door to the workroom and risked peeking through a knothole in the wood. Past the shelves with the grotesque stores, Aleida was erecting a complicated array of glassware, lots of strangely shaped bottles and twisting tubes linked together with some unwholesome-looking tubing.
I took my lunch out to the back step to eat, glad that I didn’t have to bother with that rubbish. Once my belly was full, I set to work again in the garden.
I was there for the better part of the afternoon, pulling out weeds, tying up plants, watering wilted vegetables and picking overripe and vermin-eaten produce to haul to the rubbish heap behind the stables.
It felt good to be doing something normal for a while, even if I did feel terribly lonely. Back home I’d have had Ma and Lucette working alongside me. Little Jeb and Maisie would be there too, chasing each other through the rows of plants, picking off caterpillars and bugs to feed to their favourite hens. I found myself imagining what it would be like to tell them all that had happened since I’d left home, all the things I’d seen. Lucette would cover her ears at some parts of the tale, she insisted that she hated scary stories; but one of my other brothers, Matto, would listen rapt and wide-eyed to every single word. If only I could write, I’d send them a letter, I thought. Lem would say it’s all lies and fancies, but he can carry on all he likes when I’m not there to hear it.
But it was a waste of time even to think such things when I couldn’t read or write a word, and I wasn’t likely to learn any time soon. Even if my mistress was inclined to teach me, I doubted she’d have the patience for it and, in any case, when would we have the time?
I was sunk deep into these dark thoughts when I heard a noise that made me freeze — the soft sound of a horse’s hooves, snapping twigs and rustling leaves.
My first thought was of the black rider, returning to claim the dryad he’d been promised. With the garden fork still in my hands I darted towards the cottage and flattened myself against the wall outside the workroom window. For a moment I nearly called out to my mistress inside, but I soon thought better of it. She had her own ways of knowing what was happening around us, after all.
Then, a moment later there came another noise, and I was glad I’d held my tongue. A soft rustling reached my ears, and then . . . chickens?
I crept around the cottage just as I heard a girl’s voice, talking softly. ‘Whoa now, Bess. Now I wonder, is anybody here?’
I recognised the voice, just as I recognised that she was talking as much to calm her own nerves as her horse. I leaned the fork against the wall and stepped out, wiping my hands on my apron. ‘Melly?’
She was sitting on a stocky bay horse with a pair of wicker baskets slung behind the saddle. Her face lit up with relief when she saw me. ‘Dee, I’m glad to see you! Is your mistress around? I don’t want to stray where I’m not welcome, see . . .’
‘Miss Blackbone is in her workroom,’ I said. ‘I don’t think we’ll disturb her out here. What brings you?’
‘I’ve brought the chickens your mistress wanted,’ she said, slipping down to the ground. ‘Four of them, all first-year layers. Ma picked them out herself. Where’s your coop?’
The thought of fresh eggs cheered me up immensely, until I remembered that I hadn’t given any thought to where the birds would live. There was a coop near the stables, but I had no idea what state it was in. And, given the condition of the rest of the cottage, I didn’t have high hopes. ‘It’s over here. But I confess I haven’t had any time to look at it.’
‘Oh?’ Melly said. ‘I suppose you would have had a lot of work to do.’
A lot of work and a lot of excitement, with little of it the pleasant kind. ‘Maybe we should go take a look before you get those baskets down.’
It didn’t look promising at first glance. The coop had a base of stone, which was a good start, but the upper part was built of wood and covered with shingles, a number of which were split and falling off.
Melly sucked her cheeks in as she looked it over, in a way that reminded me of the teamster, Yosh. She pulled a little knife from her belt and tested the wood underneath. ‘Well, the good news is that it isn’t rotten. Do you have any spare shingles? There’s only a few broken, it wouldn’t take long to patch it up.’
‘I honestly have no idea,’ I said. ‘Let’s go and look.’
She hesitated. ‘Your mistress won’t mind?’
‘I shouldn’t think so. She asked for the birds, after all, and they need somewhere to live.’
At first Melly looked around the cluttered stables with interest, only to shrug with a disappointed face at the decidedly un-magical mess of old, rusted tools, bits of rope, splintered buckets and bundles of rags, and dozens of other odds and ends. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I thought there’d be . . .’
‘Jars full of pickled ox eyes and glassware made by a blind madman?’ I said. It was meant to be a joke, but my voice came out rather too bitter to pull it off. ‘That stuff is all inside the house.’
Melly was frowning at first, but then it turned into a smile. ‘Truly, Dee, what’s it like in there?’
She thought I was only teasing, bless her. ‘Well, it’s mostly empty, now. Most everything got smashed up in the fight,’ I said. ‘Well, in the main room, anyway. I don’t really go into the others. Exploring only turns up surprises of the unpleasant kind. Oh, here we are.’ In a corner under a crumbling oilcloth I found a stack of shingles, tied up in bundles with string.
‘Oh, good,’ said Melly. ‘And here’s a hammer and a cask of nails. Are you sure she won’t mind if we use these?’
‘I doubt she’ll even notice,’ I said. ‘If we use them up, she’ll just have to buy more. It’s not like she doesn’t have the coin for it.’ I winced the moment the words left my lips. I hadn’t meant to say it, not really.
Melly’s eyes grew wide. ‘Is that so? Well, well, I always heard they were rolling in it.’
‘Oh Lord and Lady,’ I groaned. ‘I really shouldn’t have said that. Please don’t pass it on.’
‘I promise, Dee, my lips are sealed,’ she said, her eyes bright and merry.
I found another hammer and we brought everything outside. I wasn’t sure what to do with it all — back at home there were strict rules about whether something was a job for girls or boys, and anything involving a hammer was most definitely for the boys. But I watched Melly as she pried out nails and lifted off shingles, and then I started to copy her.
‘So how do you like the place, Dee?’ Melly asked as we set about the work. ‘It must be terribly interesting.’
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘If by terribly interesting you mean interestingly terrifying. But that’s only part of the time. The rest of the time I’m just looking after the garden or milking the goat or cleaning up inside.’
‘And have you, well, have you learned anything yet?’
The way she said it had me give her a sidelong glance. ‘What do you mean?’
The hopeful look she was giving me swiftly faded. ‘Oh, well, I suppose you have only been here a day or so.’
‘Melly . . .’ I said with a frown; and then suddenly I understood. ‘You think I’m going to be a witch?’
‘Why else would Miss Blackbone have hired you on?’
I dropped my gaze. ‘She’s been very poorly ever since the fight.’
‘Oh, I know that. But that can’t be the only reason you were brought here. I mean, why you? And from so far away, too?’
They were the same questions that had been burning in my mind since I’d left home. Funny, though, how they’d all but dropped out of my thoughts since I’d arrived here. Mind you, I’d hardly had time to catch my breath, what with all that had been happening. It wasn’t Aleida who brought me here, I thoug
ht. But it wasn’t Gyssha, either. So who was it?
Melly nudged me with her elbow. ‘Come on, Dee, don’t tell me you haven’t even thought about becoming a witch.’
I set my hammer down and straightened, looking past the stables and down to the orchard. The grey horse was still hanging close, I could see him grazing in the meadow through the trees. ‘I truly hadn’t given it a thought.’ I frowned then and picked up the hammer to get back to work. ‘Honestly, I’m not sure I’d want to. From what I’ve seen of it, being a witch is kind of . . . dreadful, really.’ I couldn’t help but think of the Nefari, the demon tree that had destroyed two earthbeasts, and the odd little spider-thing my mistress had made from the branch. And the dog’s hairy paws sticking out from the hem of Aleida’s skirts.
Melly huffed a sigh. ‘And there you go, spoiling my nice daydreams of how much fun it must be, learning how to cast spells.’
I must have given her a sharp look, because she raised her hands in a gesture of peace. ‘I’m just joking, Dee!’ She looked thoughtful. ‘Ma asked me to tell you again, though, if you wanted to leave, we’d help you.’
‘Thanks, Melly. But Miss Blackbone already told me that she’ll send me on my way with a bit of coin, if that’s what I want.’
‘But it’s not?’ Melly asked. ‘Even if it is a little bit dreadful?’
‘Oh, it’s mostly just dreadful for her,’ I said. ‘I’m just a serving-girl. I keep my head down and do as I’m told.’ It was time to change the subject. ‘Do you get a lot of visitors to Lilsfield?’
‘Oh, hardly any at all, unless you head across to the Overton road. Just merchants who come through to buy our goods, or bring in wares to the store. Oh, and then there’s . . .’ She broke off, pulling a face.
‘There’s what?’ I said.
‘Oh, Dee, we just got done talking about how awful witchcraft is, I didn’t mean to bring it up.’
‘It’s all right,’ I said. ‘I did ask the question.’ A thought came to me, then. ‘Were you going to talk about Old Miss Blackbone’s visitors?’
Melly gave me a sharp look. ‘Are you sure you’re not going to be a witch? Because you did just read my mind. Nasty characters,’ she said with a shudder. ‘You’d spot them on the road and just know something weren’t right. If you had the chance you’d turn away and find some job to do elsewhere, but sometimes they’d want directions or supplies and you wouldn’t get a choice.’
‘Do they cause a lot of trouble?’ I said, thinking of Brian and my first sighting of the black rider.
‘I always had the feeling that they could do a lot of harm,’ Melly said. ‘But they never did. Ma reckons they were too scared of Miss Blackbone, Old Miss Blackbone, that is. Gran says there was one who made a lot of trouble, long ago, before Ma was even born, but Old Miss Blackbone settled her good and proper. No one was allowed to mess with us but her.’ She frowned, then, looking up into the afternoon sky. ‘I wonder if that’ll change, now that Old Miss Blackbone is gone and we’ve just got the young one instead?’
I thought of the black rider, and shivered. ‘Oh, she’s pretty canny,’ I said.
‘But she’s hurt.’
‘Yes, but she’ll get better. She just needs rest and some good food.’
‘Lucky she’s got you, then.’
‘But you don’t have any other trouble?’ I said. ‘Like with poachers, or thieves?’
I wasn’t even sure why I said it. I certainly didn’t think the question through before it left my lips. The words seemed to bubble out of my mouth unbidden.
‘Poachers?’ Melly looked at me with wide eyes. ‘Around here?’ She seemed puzzled. ‘I don’t know how things are down on the plains, but up here it’s a fool’s errand to fuss over who owns the wild game. I mean, anyone who messes with our cattle or such will get what’s coming to them, but the deer and the rabbits and the other wild beasts? They belong to the mountains, not to men.’
‘So you do get folk who make a living from hunting them?’
‘Like Mr Attwater, you mean, or Bennett Winthrop, gods rest his poor soul? Yes, a few. Mountain folk, we call them. They’d rather live rough and wild in the woods than clear a patch of land and make a farm. Nothing wrong with that; it takes all kinds, as Pa says.’
I thought on that, as we hammered the new shingles onto the henhouse. Kian had definitely said that the Sanfords didn’t like him; it didn’t add up.
Maybe, I reasoned, he just thought they didn’t like him. Or maybe it wasn’t his thought at all, but his ma’s. I remembered how my ma was, after Da died. For a time there she’d been convinced that folk hated her, that they looked down on her and talked behind her back, that they conspired against her. That was one good thing about Lem, as much as it pained me to say it. After he took us in, Ma was so much happier and all those dark thoughts seemed to fade away. But if things hadn’t worked out that way, if it had stayed being just her and me, I might have eventually believed all she said about how everyone hated us.
‘Melly,’ I said. ‘You’ve lived here all your life, haven’t you?’
‘Sure have,’ she said.
‘So if there was a boy I’d seen, who lives around here, you’d know him, right?’
Melly tossed her hair back. ‘Oh, I know everyone. A boy, hey?’ She grinned and nudged me with her elbow. ‘What does he look like?’
‘He’s got brown hair with a touch of red, and curly. Brown eyes, and freckles, and pale skin. He’s tall, and skinny. And he has bony wrists.’
Melly rolled her eyes to the sky, tapping a finger to her lips. ‘There’s a lad lives on the far side of the Overton road who looks a bit like that. He was an orphan from down on the plains but came out here to be the wheelwright’s apprentice. He’s not all that skinny anymore though. I tell you, he’s got some lovely arms on him now, and those shoulders . . .’
I shook my head. ‘No, that’s not him.’
‘No? Well, it could be one of the Belltree boys from over the ridge, they’ve all got their ma’s curly hair. Was he with a fat little boy or a spotted dog? The Belltree boys never go out without one or the other.’
‘No, no, that’s not right either.’
‘Hmm. Well I know it’s not my other brother, Todd, he’s still laid up with a broken foot. There’s Gavin Carson, out to the south, but he won’t set foot out this way since Mr Greenwood caught him trying to sneak in through Tamsin’s window last summer. Thrashed him within an inch of his life and told him he’d finish the job if he ever saw his face again. He doesn’t have freckles, though, and if it was him you’d have mentioned his ears.’ Melly shook her head. ‘Anything else you know about him, Dee?’
‘Well, he dresses kind of rough,’ I said. ‘And he carries a bow with a quiver on his belt.’
Melly slowly shook her head. ‘Nope, don’t know anyone like that.’
It was curious. Very curious. ‘All right, thanks anyway,’ I said. ‘If I see him again, maybe I can ask him.’
Melly looked sombre. ‘I’d have a care, Dee. Strange things happen around here sometimes . . . well, not that you need me to tell you that, hey?’
‘No. You know, it’s a wonder there’s so many folk live around here, what with the stories I’ve heard.’
‘Oh, well,’ Melly said. ‘There’s a reason for that, you know. It’s the tax collector, you see.’
‘Tax collector? What about him?’
‘There isn’t one. Not anymore. Old Miss Blackbone saw to that.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Well, that makes sense.’
We soon had the henhouse finished, and popped the new hens inside. Melly fetched some water for them while I searched for something to line the nesting box, and settled on some chaff from the black rider’s construct, since there wasn’t anything else available. Since it was getting too late to let the hens out I gathered some vegetable scraps for them and left them to settle in, happily clucking and warbling to each other in the cosy darkness.
We put the tools and the unused shi
ngles away, and on our way back from the stables Melly’s foot hit something hidden in the grass. Her hobnailed boots struck it with a high-pitched chink, and she bent down with a frown.
When she straightened, she held a little glass bottle, no bigger around than my thumb and forefinger and about as long as my palm. She held it out to me. ‘You’d better have this, Dee, it must belong to your mistress.’
It was sealed with a cork and was mostly full of some clear liquid. There was a paper label pasted to the glass, and though it wasn’t brand new it wasn’t all faded and dirty, either. ‘Doesn’t look like it’s been here long,’ I said with a frown. ‘What does that word say? Can you read it?’
‘It’s laudanum,’ Melly said.
‘Oh.’ I tucked it away in my apron pocket. I knew what laudanum was. Ma had a little bottle, back at home. I wasn’t sure where this one had come from, though — maybe the old witch had dropped it, before Aleida came to confront her. Or maybe it had fallen from Aleida’s packs when I’d been putting all the gear away.
‘Well, I’d best head back before it gets dark,’ Melly said.
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Thanks so much for your help, Melly.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ she said, mounting up onto her horse again. ‘But there’s just one thing, Dee. If you do end up becoming a witch, I’m going to say I told you so. Just warning you now.’
I shrugged. ‘That’s fair enough. Safe journey.’
‘You too,’ she said with a wink, and turned the bay to ride away.
I milked the goat and shut her in the stables, then I brought in some wood and water and closed up the house for the night. I thought about knocking on the door to see if my mistress wanted some dinner, but after our words earlier I decided I wasn’t quite game. Instead I fixed her a plate of food, with another plate over the top to keep any vermin away, and left it by the workroom door. Then I had my own dinner, sitting beside the fire in the barren kitchen. It seemed a waste to light the lantern when there was only me here to use the light, and in any case, I didn’t have any handiwork to do to make it worthwhile. Back home I’d have socks to knit or mending to do or a dress or shirt to make for someone, but here I didn’t even have a needle, let alone thimble or shears. Lem had kicked up such a fuss at me taking my needle-book that Ma had rolled her eyes and taken it for a keepsake. It had made me happy at the time, thinking that it was important to her to have something that I’d made and used every day, but now it meant that I was just sitting here twiddling my thumbs. It felt so strange, sitting still like this, having nothing to do, and part of me kept expecting Lem to come through the door and start berating me for being lazy. Then I imagined what my mistress would do if he did, and I smiled to myself. Brian’s reading was right after all, I thought. I am free. This might not be what I expected freedom to look like, but I’ll take it.
