Mine to Tarnish

by Falor, Janeal

  The pack is right where my mother said it would be, under the tree mostly hidden by a bush. I clutch it to me and rush to the dirt road. No one is coming in either direction. I go right, toward town, and make my legs continue their hurried pace. Have I already passed the point that the spell would have stopped mother? Would she have made it this far with me had she chosen to come? It doesn’t matter. She can’t be here so I shouldn’t even worry on it. Only I wish…

  I brush a few stray tears away and focus on running. Tilda tries to enter my thoughts, to make me believe her fate is going to be my own, but I won’t allow it to stay. Neither thoughts of Father or Jack or Nigel chasing me. Only thoughts of escaping, even if I’ll soon be caught.

  Chapter Four

  The day wears on, the sun waning, as is my energy. The sky is covered with clouds painted vivid red by its departure. The night air should be cooler once it arrives. Town comes into view, hazy at first but clearing as I get closer. I’ve never seen it in this state before. Because of women being required to ride in a windowless carriage, I’ve only ever seen the street and Father’s shop. Best avoid that. In truth, I should avoid everything except the house my mother told me to find.

  It doesn't take near long enough to follow the directions mother gave me. Despite the warmth of the evening, I go cold. I’ve never, ever done anything like this before. Never had a purpose of my own. Never been without a chaperone. My whole being shakes. It has to stop. I’m in front of the house mother told me holds tarnished who should be able to help, but I can’t stop the shaking. I shake and shake and shake.

  There’s nothing for it. I can’t stay out here on the street for everyone to see. At any moment someone could come by and start questioning me. I’ll just have to trust that whoever these tarnished are, they don’t notice or care that I’ve gone mad. Unease clings to me as I step near.

  Should I go around back to the servants’ entrance? Or to the front? Mother didn’t specify. It seems odd to go to the front door, but if there are tarnished here that can help, would they use the front door? I really don’t know. The whole situation makes me want to return to mother. Except Nigel is there. Besides, my legs ache from all the walking. Back door it is.

  The path to the back door is paved with stepping stones, with grass attempting to grow through the cracks. The bushes on either side have been clipped back to create a clear walkway. When I reach the door, I don’t hesitate. I force myself to walk straight up to it, knock, and lower my head. A moment later, the door opens.

  “Where’s your owner?” a male asks. Probably a tarnished by the looks of his drab trousers, but I don’t dare look up. Now would be the worst possible time to be caught breaking a rule.

  “He’s…” Where? Where? Think of a good lie. Think! “Not here.”

  That was not a lie.

  The male lowers his voice. “Is that so?”

  I nod. Of all the times to not find a lie worth believing, it has to been when I depend upon it the most.

  “Do you have a delivery?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are you here?” he sounds exasperated. I can’t blame him. I’m being rather unhelpful, but this is all so new and what if it is wrong? What if he won’t help, but instead, takes me back to Nigel?

  “I’m sorry. I believe this is the wrong house.”

  As I move to go, I finally chance glancing at him through my lashes. My breath catches. It is a tarnished. Bald with ink slashed across his nose, cheeks, and forehead. Most definitely a male, his muscles visible even beneath loose clothes. With a very stern look on his ink chiseled face.

  “Are you certain? You seem like you could use help.”

  I could use help. I need help. I wish so desperately that he could help. But it's been years since Tilda knew them. Something could have changed. Even my mother’s sleeping powder was gained through a channel of many people. I can’t be sure he is one of them. And even if he is, Tilda was caught. What if one of them turned her in? It’s not safe. No one is safe. I shouldn’t have come. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

  Before he says anything further, or decides I need to be taken to his Master, I hurry away. Once I’ve put some distance between us, I get on the boardwalk, glance down the empty street, and randomly select a bench to collapse on, keeping my pack on my back. No sense in taking it off if someone is going to walk by and haul me back to Father’s. Perhaps the tarnished is already informing them I’m here. Alone.

  What a dunce I’ve been. Even if today had presented the perfect opportunity, it wasn’t enough time to properly plan. Something else could have eventually happened. Most likely. Maybe. Well there are no guarantees, but coming out here in such a rush, knowing so little, isn’t the way to escape safely.

  I can’t just sit here, but what other options do I have? What does a woman out in the world by herself do? Run and hide? Give myself up? No. I won’t. Anything would be a better option. They can punish me, tarnish me, or hang me, but I won’t willingly return to Nigel. I refuse to be his bride. I will not bear his children.

  The walkway planks creak as footsteps near. When did they get so close? I glance up and quickly look down again. A law officer. His black breeches and orange shirt a giveaway almost as much as his baton.

  What do I do? There’s no time to do anything. If I run, will it help or hinder? I’ve made one mistake after another with this fouled plot. But it’s already decided. I straighten my back, prim and proper like, yet at the same time I tense my muscles, ready to move. I won’t make another mistake. For now I won’t run, but if he attempts to return me, I’ll fight with everything I have, no matter what hex he throws. I will not return submissively. I will not succumb.

  “Where’s your owner, wench?” The law officer’s voice is stern and harsh, just as a proper warlock’s should. Almost the same question as the tarnished. It makes me want to cower, but I can’t. There’s no appropriate response, so I say nothing at all. Instead I push my feet against the ground, ready to spring.

  His baton appears seemingly out of nowhere and strikes my calf. “Answer, dolt.”

  I bite my lip to hold back a whimper.

  “Sorry,” a male voice intrudes, “she’s mute.”

  Mute? I am most definitely not mute. I peek through my lashes to see who’s making such a claim and the sight surprises me. The tarnished from before. Why is he making such a false statement?

  The tarnished continues, “Our Master didn’t want her in the shop. Last time she kept touching everything. I will return her to where she belongs.”

  What is he doing? Perhaps he’s going to take me back to Father and Nigel but is sympathetic enough that he’s helping me stay out of trouble? It’s the only reasoning that makes any sort of sense. Unfortunately for him, I’m not returning. But I won’t spurn help either. And if I’ve been mistaken, if my mother was right and he’s with someone willing to help, well then, we’ll just see how things go.

  The law officer smacks my leg with his baton again, bringing tears to my eyes, but I refuse to call out and break the claim I’m mute. He pulls back his baton a third time, but when he swings it the blow smacks the tarnished with a sickening thwack. The tarnished grunts and holds his chest, making my own hurt with guilt.

  “Tell him to leave her home next time. Or at least send her with a capable servant, one who’s not tarnished.” He swings the baton toward us again. “Get out of my sight.”

  The tarnished wraps a hand around my arm, pulls me up, and quickly drags me away. I keep a tight grip on my pack, as if somehow the link to the few things will give me strength.

  Once we’re out of sight of the law officer, the tarnished leads us down an empty, dusty lane. This is far enough. If I’m going to be fighting to get away from him or using his help to get away, I want to know it now.

  I yank my arm from the tarnished and stop. He promptly grabs my arm again. A hiss escapes me, but before I struggle, he says, “We’re not safe and you obviously need help. Do you realize law officers f
orce you back to wherever it is you're avoiding telling me about?”

  Of course, but what else should I have done? Planned this all out better is what.

  “Forgive me. I didn’t mean it so harsh. Girls just never understand.” He lets out a huff. “I promise I’m trying to help. Once we are away from here, we can talk and you can decide what you want.”

  What I want? Did he really just say what I want? Right now what I want is to pull away again, but my instinct says mother was right. He will help. It was only my own fear chasing me away before. He’s already proven he’s willing to help once, without me even telling him what is taking place.

  “Unless you have other plans?” His tone sounds sincere, as if he really wants to know what I’m thinking. As if he truly cares.

  “What if I want to go?” Even though I no longer think this is the case.

  He immediately releases me. “I’ll let you.”

  Silently, I weigh his words while he looks me over, not in a way that makes me nervous like Nigel did, but as if he’s trying to learn my story. After a moment, he says, “I don’t know what’s going on, but if you’re in trouble I can help.”

  “Why should I trust you?” I want a reason to.

  When he doesn’t respond, I chance raising my eyes to him. Even though he’s tarnished, it still feels wrong somehow, yet I’m glad I did. His hazel eyes are unlike any I’ve ever seen before. There’s something in them, something I can’t quite place or understand. The tarnished ink slashed across his face somehow works well with his chiseled features. He looks to be a few years older than my brother, maybe a year older than me. If this tarnished had magic and wasn’t condemned to a life of nothing, would they have been friends?

  Still he doesn’t respond, instead he holds out his hand to me.

  It’s not an ideal situation but holds a sliver of golden hope. I place my hand in his. It’s solid and firm against mine. I only hope the truth behind his words proves just as solid and firm.

  Chapter Five

  I’m not certain where we’re going, but it’s farther from town and farther from the law officers. Night grows dark as we travel. A ways from town, we enter the woods. The trees are close together, thick, almost like walls in a house. He guides me through them, keeping a tight hold of my hand and helping me over fallen logs and around bushes.

  Finally, he stops. It’s a nice quiet place, the land creeping upward next to us to form a wall where no one else exists. Or at least I could believe they don’t. The area is like Father’s, but wilder. The flowers free and twisting, the vines creeping without restraint, and no pattern to where the trees grow. Despite less order, I like it. Or perhaps I like it because there’s less order. I close my eyes and take a deep breath of air, doing nothing but listening to the calm sound of the birds and tiny animals around us. No matron’s shrill voice. No punishment. And definitely no stench of Nigel.

  “We can talk safely now,” the tarnished says.

  Likely. Doesn’t mean I’m ready to talk, though.

  “Why were you alone in public? Who and where don’t you want to be taken back to?”

  Especially when he asks that. Yet what else is he supposed to ask? It’s not as if girls show up wherever they want, whenever they want. We aren’t even supposed to have wants. Something I should have thought of, but I was only trying to escape. I must be smarter. Except I don’t know if that means talking with him or not. He’s given me no reason to doubt so far.

  “Why did you intervene for me when the law officer came?”

  His lip twitches, almost like he’s trying to smile. I haven’t seen a tarnished smile since Tilda.

  “It would be helpful to know why you assisted me,” I add.

  With that, he does smile, and I’m not sure I like how quickly it lowers my defenses. “It’s what I do.”

  “You often come across girls alone being accosted by a law officer then?”

  “No. That was most definitely a first.” He quirks an eyebrow at me. “I meant, I try to help.”

  “Help.” The word sounds foreign despite knowing what it means. But everything feels in line with what mother said. I should have talked to him at that house instead of having to deal with the law officer and the consequences of being seen by him. “Help how?”

  “I’ve never had a girl ask so many questions.”

  He’s right. I am asking too many questions, but I want answers.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he says. How am I looking at him? “It’s not a bad thing. Just uncommon without coaxing. I usually spend at least a month being nice before they relax.”

  “Why do you spend time with so many girls?”

  “Simply trying to help.”

  Again with the help. “Why?”

  “Because the way women and tarnished are treated is wrong.”

  Can he truly believe that? Mother was right to send me to him. Yet I still narrow my eyes at him. There’s no reason yet to let him know how much relief this brings. “How are you going to help?”

  At this he shakes his head and gives a chuckle. “I’m with a group of tarnished who work with people who need assistance.”

  Even though my mother had said as much, to hear it from an actual tarnished sounds nice. Unrealistic, but nice. “What type of assistance?”

  “Whatever they need that we can help with.”

  “You’re being very vague.”

  “I don’t know if I can trust you enough yet to be more specific.”

  Not the answer I would like, but valid. I haven’t given him any reason to trust me, a woman who was where she shouldn’t be, asking questions she shouldn’t. He rubs his chest where the law officer hit him. Already he’s proven much. I say, “I don’t want to be owned anymore.”

  He gently rests his hand on my arm. “That’s exactly the sort of thing we help with.”

  A sense of peace seems to spread from where we’re connected all the way through me, stilling the last of my suspicions. Perhaps he can assist me. Perhaps that glimmer of hope can grow a tiny bit more.

  He turns, picks up a large bush off the side of the mountain, and moves it aside. At first, the action seems strange, but then I spot a small wooden door behind where the bush used to be. A hidden doorway built into the rock of the mountain. When my mother said there are tarnished who can help, I never thought she meant this. Just who is this tarnished and the others he’s working with?

  He opens the door and gestures me in. It’s dark.

  “What’s down there?”

  “One of our hideouts.”

  One? Meaning there’s more? And what’s in these hideouts? My leg still aches from where the law officer struck me. “It doesn’t look very inviting.”

  “It’s not so terrible once you’re in. You came to us for help. Let us do that. We’ll find you some food and water as well.”

  Too tempting to pass up, except I wonder, “Who is this 'we' you keep speaking of?”

  He motions toward the door again. Further answers don’t matter at this point. Taking one more chance isn’t going to change whatever fate is waiting for me down there. I step into a small entryway. He quickly joins me, pulling the bush back in place before closing the door.

  “This way.”

  I follow him through a hall that leads to a large room lit by candles and full of tarnished. They’re all ages and genders. All staring at me.

  “What are you doing with one of them down here?” one of the women asks.

  He made it sound as if he conversed with girls often, but she makes it sound as if I'm a bad thing. A very bad thing.

  “Helping.”

  “Helping get us all caught, you mean.”

  What does she mean by caught? Are they in trouble too? If so, is hiding with them putting me at more or less risk? What happens when my owner realizes I’m gone and comes looking for me? Will it endanger them? Doesn’t matter the risk. On my own, I was going to end up back with Nigel. Besides, I thought the male tarnished and mother said that
is what they did: help.

  “We aren’t only helping a few chosen people, Helen. You’ve got to understand this,” the male tarnished says. “Other people besides just you need us.”

  Any remaining doubts about him flee. Though I don’t understand his reasoning or purpose, I know he’s trustworthy. The tarnished girl questioning him, though, her I’m not certain about. I can understand not wanting to help me, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to trust her. Or any of the others.

  As he leads me past those gathered, I get a better look at her. She’s a little taller than me and older, with slight curves hiding behind her dark purple skirt and maroon blouse. Her nose is thin, made sharper with the ink on her cheeks. She glares at me. At least the rest of them have the decency to leave me be.

  The male grabs us a candle from a table, lights it, and takes us down a hall tunneled out of the mountain. I peer at the ceiling above us, the craggy rocks formed at a slant. How much mountain are we under? More importantly, what is keeping it up?

  It weighs on me, making the way seem longer until he turns into a room. It's a good change, though. Perhaps there’s still rock overhead, but at least it's completely covered with wooden beams and is bigger. I only have to pretend I’m in a windowless room. Not pleasant memories of being punished but better than Katherine-crushing rock. There’s a desk with nothing on it and several rickety chairs. Other than the furniture, the whole place reminds me too much of being locked in a dark closet.

  “This should do. Feel free to get settled. I’ll return shortly and we can talk more. Please make yourself comfortable.”

  He’s gone before I’ve decided if I’m fine with this arrangement or not. At least he left the candle on the desk. There’s nothing else. In all likelihood the roof is about to collapse on me, and so far I’ve only seen other tarnished here. Not ideal. But preferable to Nigel.