Floodtide

by Heather Rose Jones

  Once the first notes rang out, my ears were full of the sound. Celeste called out something from halfway up the stairs, but I couldn’t make it out. I counted off the peals. Nine. Ten. There were voices and shouts from the plaiz below. Through the window of the bell tower I could see two of the deacons come out on the church steps to stare. Fifteen. Sixteen.

  I had counted to twenty-four when I saw men in the uniforms of the city guard come into the Nikuleplaiz on the far side, walking determinedly across the cobbles toward the tower. Celeste was beside me, grabbing my arm and shouting, “Come away!”

  That was when I first thought I might have made a mistake. Celeste slipped down the steps before me. And that’s why she was the one the guards caught.

  If the floodtide bell belonged to the church, it would have been no business of the Guard. And of course if the priest had rung the bell, that would have been authority enough. But no one would believe that Father Mazzu had given us permission. And Celeste was the one who had argued with him. No one paid any mind to me when I slipped out of the tower.

  The sweet peals of the bell trailed off to echoes and were still. But even as the guards led Celeste away held stiffly between them, I could hear other bells taking up the floodtide call. Someone might send a command to silence them, but for now the two-tone cry spread throughout the city, “Alarm! Alarm!”

  Liv and I joined the cluster of charmwives who went to badger Father Mazzu for Celeste’s sake, but he wouldn’t listen. And all I could think was that it was my fault, because I’d wanted to be a hero for her. I would have sat down on the cobbles to cry but that wouldn’t help.

  “Liv,” I begged. “Can you go tell Mefro Dominique?”

  She nodded.

  Then I set off running to Tiporsel House. I needed Maisetra Talarico, but there was no knowing if she was in town or at the school. At least Maisetra Iulien would be there and surely she could think of something to do.

  Tiporsel House was buzzing like a hive of bees, and for half a moment I was confused. But of course all the city had heard the bells. I stopped in the common room to take off my bonnet and coat and saw Maitelen coming down the stairs with a tray.

  “Where’s Maisetra Iulien?” I asked in a rush.

  “In the library, I think. But you needn’t worry about being late. She hasn’t rung for you yet.”

  I wasn’t worried about that, of course. I slipped past her to take the steps up to the main hall, but the library door stood open with no one inside. I could hear voices from the front parlor and hesitated at the doorway, seeing Charsintek and Ponivin there with all the family.

  Charsintek saw me and came over to grab my arm and hiss quietly, “Rozild Pairmen! What are you doing up here dressed like that?” Because of course I hadn’t changed out of my pinafore.

  “I need to speak to Maisetra Iulien!”

  “You don’t need to do anything, right now.”

  But Iulien had heard me and came over to ask, “What is it?”

  I knew it would come back on me later, but for now I blurted out, “It’s Celeste. She had a vision floodtide was coming and the priest wouldn’t listen so we rang the bell and the Guard took her away.” I was panting and it came out all jumbled. “Please, maisetra! They think it was a prank or a dare, but it was a true vision. Floodtide’s coming.”

  “Is that what this is about?” Maisetra Pertinek said. “Some girl with visions has set the city on its ear?”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time for that” came a quiet voice from the corner.

  I quaked inside because I hadn’t realized the baroness was there too. The absolute rule we’d lived under all summer was not to bother the baroness with anything.

  “Who is the girl with visions?”

  My tongue was too stuck in my mouth to answer the baroness, so Maisetra Iulien answered.

  “She’s the daughter of the dressmaker Roz is apprenticed to. I know her. She’s learning to be a charmwife.”

  I turned toward the maisetra and added, “Maisetra Talarico said she was to come to you if she needed help.” It was only bending the truth a little.

  The maisetra and the baroness looked at each other like they were talking without words, and the baroness said, “Send for Serafina and we’ll see what can be done.”

  Charsintek pulled me out of the parlor and closed the door behind. “What has gotten into you, girl? What made you think you could take liberties like that?”

  I was thinking of Celeste, of course, sitting alone in a cold stone cell because of me, and her mother worried sick. It wouldn’t have helped to say so. I stared down at my feet and tried to look penitent. Charsintek wasn’t one to waste time in scolding. She gave me one last shake and said, “Go change into your working clothes.”

  Everyone else seemed to be going about their business as usual. I didn’t know different than that Maisetra Iulien would be going out visiting. After I changed, I went to lay out the dress she’d want and had everything ready for when she came up. With a mind to mending fences because there was nothing else I could do, I dropped a deeper curtsey than usual and said, “Please pardon me, maisetra, for having embarrassed you in the parlor.”

  “Oh,” she said, as if she didn’t know what I meant. “Oh, no, you needn’t worry.”

  But I did need to worry. Charsintek wasn’t finished with me yet. And I couldn’t let it be. “Maisetra, what do you think will happen to Celeste?”

  I’d started undoing her dress, but she grabbed my hand and squeezed it a little. “If Baroness Saveze says she’ll see what can be done, you can be easy.”

  * * *

  I couldn’t be easy. I wanted to go back to Mefro Dominique’s that evening to see if there was any news, but I didn’t dare ask Charsintek for permission. Talk in the common room said the maisetra was still deciding what to do about the floodtide alarm. Even so, we were set to straightening and tidying everything on the lowest levels—not that we ever truly left things in disarray.

  The bells had stilled. I tried to imagine what it was like across the city, hearing first one thing and then the other. The ringing traveled faster than messengers from the city guard telling them to hush. What would people think when the bells rang again as the water reached Saint Nikule’s statue? Would they believe it then? I had no doubts that the water would rise.

  There was no news to be had from Maisetra Iulien when I dressed her for supper, and no one was bringing gossip down from the dining room. It was hard not knowing what was happening when Celeste was all I could think of. There was no word about anything until after dinner when Ponivin called us all into the common room to give orders.

  “Tomorrow we’ll begin the usual floodtide preparations. The men will begin moving things up from the lower storerooms and Mefro Charsintek will direct the rest of you in making space up here and moving what might be spoilt if the water rises higher. When the lowest level is clear then we’ll see about the gardens.”

  The lowest rooms weren’t used for storing anything but goods. They were cut deep into the rock of the slope, like the back bedrooms, with no windows at all. I’d only gone down there a time or two and the place frightened me with its shadows. They say there was a door once, opening further down the slope near the dock, but if there was, it had been buried over long ago. I’d searched the garden and never found a trace.

  We worked hard all through the day. I was in an agony of guilt, but I didn’t dare ask Charsintek about going to Mefro Dominique’s. Every time she saw me she scowled. It didn’t matter that the maisetra believed the flood might be coming. I’d stepped out of my place. Liv had come by in early morning with the market deliveries like usual—folks still had to eat—but I’d missed the chance to talk to her.

  The work of moving things and helping arrange them took all the morning and mid-day, when I should have been going off to sew. I had no chance to ask after news until the bells started jangling for the family to get dressed for dinner. Then Charsintek let me tidy myself to go upstairs and I
nerved myself to ask Maisetra Iulien if she knew anything about Celeste.

  “I haven’t had a chance to ask,” she told me. “But Baroness Saveze went to speak to the captain of the guards. They know she has friends who care about her. That should help.”

  Of course Celeste had friends who cared about her. Everyone who got locked up did. But I knew what she meant: Celeste had friends who could do more than care.

  Even though I was bone tired, I lay awake into the night worrying. Then I heard it. In the dark stillness, when sound carries across the city, the floodtide bell started singing its sweet piercing tone. I listened for what seemed like hours until finally other bells took up the cry, drowning it out with the echo of other notes.

  Had the river already risen to the saint’s statue? Or only far enough that Father Mazzu knew it would? Had Princess Anna commanded the bells to ring? Surely now they’d let Celeste go. And with that thought I was able to sleep.

  * * *

  There was still work to be done the next day, but everyone was acting like it was a normal floodtide now. As if it was spring instead of autumn. They didn’t seem as worried as I was, but I’d never seen a regular floodtide in Rotenek. Maybe I was being foolish.

  The maisetra had cancelled her school for a week, like she would have in the spring. Liv didn’t come by with the market deliveries because the river had risen above the landing and was creeping up the lower gardens and there was no safe way to tie up or unload. As soon as I could, I slipped away without waiting to see if Charsintek was still angry or if floodtide meant to stop my sewing work.

  The day before I hadn’t gotten more of a look at the river than a peek down the gardens from the back door. In two days it had gone from a thin muddy streak to all brown, not rushing, but flowing real strong. It was high enough under the arches of the bridges that a man standing in a boat might have reached up to touch the stones, but there weren’t many boats out on the water. When I looked across to the south bank, the river walk along the shore was lost from view and the paths down from the streets disappeared into the water. The warehouses further down looked like they were floating on the river. You couldn’t see the pilings underneath at all.

  Even remembering things Liv had said, I was surprised to see the water get so high so quickly. When I got past the Pont Vezzen, where the land starts sloping down toward the Nikuleplaiz, the streets were crowded with people hurrying and carrying things. In the marketplace, the water was lapping over the top of the steps around the statue and Saint Nikule was wet to the hem of his robe. When I came to the street where Mefro Dominique lived, I stopped short, because half a block down, the cobbles disappeared under a pool of muddy water.

  I knew it was like to happen, otherwise why move everything up to the second floor? But that was different from seeing it for myself. I thought about taking off my shoes and stockings to keep them clean, but I didn’t know what might be underfoot that I couldn’t see. So I hitched my skirts up before sloshing into the water. Some people had put oilcloths around their doors and were climbing in and out through the windows, but I didn’t figure that would keep the water out for long.

  Mefro Dominique had done the same. I went the long way around to the alley behind the shop. The front windows were set up for display and you couldn’t climb through them, but the kitchen had a split door and she’d left the top open. I called in, “Mefro Dominique, it’s me, Roz!”

  When I didn’t hear an answer, I jumped up to sit on the half-door, then swung my legs and hopped down. The oilcloth against the door had slowed the water to a trickle for now, but I could tell it wouldn’t last.

  “Mefro Dominique!” The stove had been let to go out and I wondered for a moment if she’d left to stay with friends on higher ground, but then why leave the kitchen door open?

  “Here, child!” came a voice from above and I met her at the stairs. Her face was drawn and tired. “Have you heard anything of my Celeste? I went to ask after her time and again yesterday and no one would tell me a thing.”

  I’d hoped that maybe she’d be home already. But right when I opened my mouth to tell what I’d done, there was a rattle at the shop door followed by a sharp knock. I rushed over to peer through the bow window and gave a glad cry, “Celeste!”

  She was standing there with Maisetra Talarico, looking frightened and miserable. Then Mefro Dominique was there at my side, undoing the bolt and pulling the door open heedless of the muddy water that poured in across the floor. She grabbed Celeste tight, saying things that sounded like, “Oh, my baby, oh, my cherry!” except they were in French.

  Maisetra Talarico apologized, “We’d hoped to bring her home yesterday, but it took most of the night to find someone to sign the papers. Everyone is preparing for the flood.”

  Mefro Dominique hugged her and kissed her on both cheeks. Then she stepped back and looked embarrassed like it had been an impertinence. But Maisetra Talarico took her hands and said, “I must return to Urmai. We’re preparing to receive people who flee the city. Celeste has helped to give us time.”

  Celeste didn’t tell her mother it was me that rang the bell. She said it didn’t matter. But it mattered to me and I swore I’d never get her in trouble again.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  October 1825—Fever

  There was no sewing that day, but plenty of other work. We visited neighbors up and down the street to see if they needed help moving things and had food and sweet water. It was mostly shops and small houses, but not everyone had an upper level—not one they had a right to. Mefro Dominique wasn’t the only one going door-to-door to see after their neighbors. The chandler on the corner had taken in two old widows. The baker’s boys were refusing teneirs to help with carrying goods to safety. The woman who kept the tobacco shop was standing up to her ankles, trying to calm a screaming baby and watching over her two shopgirls trying to manage what her husband should have been there for.

  We lent a hand while she tried to quiet the child. “I think it’s the fever,” she wailed. “She’s been crying all night. They say it’ll be bad this time.”

  Celeste took the baby to hold and looked at its eyes and kissed it on the forehead. “No signs of any fever.” We could hear the word “yet” hanging in the air. Babies died of river fever a lot, they said, if their first one was bad. And it didn’t often take you quick. It could be a long slow burning away that came on so you hardly noticed.

  “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose her,” the woman said as she took her back. She was crying now too, maybe because she was relieved or maybe because she was still frightened.

  I thought about the fever charms Celeste had been working on that weren’t ready. This time I knew to keep my mouth shut in front of the tobacconist’s wife. But when she’d turned away for a moment, I asked softly, “Could you do something? Like that baptism charm we did at Saint Rota’s well? Liv said it would protect against drowning and river fever. If the baby isn’t sick yet, it might protect her.”

  Celeste bit her lip and closed her eyes for a moment like she was listening, then nodded. It made me think of how she said Saint Mauriz talked to her.

  “Mefro!” she called out and the woman turned. “Mefro, I might have something—a blessing.”

  The woman’s eyes widened. “I’ll pay anything!”

  Celeste shook her head. “No fee. Not for a baby, not for a blessing. It might give a bit of protection. Let me go get my things.” She turned to wade back toward the shop. No point in using the back door now.

  She returned with a basket over her arm with her candles and bottles and bits of paper to work the charm with words and flame and a dab of the water on the baby’s lips. It quieted and slept, though maybe it was all cried out.

  But the tobacco-woman must have told other folks, because soon there was a stream of people from the neighborhood coming to find Celeste, bringing children to get Saint Rota’s blessing, and even a few older folks muttering that it couldn’t hurt. By high afternoon the basket was emp
ty of what Celeste had done up and the bottle of water was dry, the last drop shook out carefully onto a wide-eyed boy’s tongue.

  “That’s it,” she said to me. “The last from Saint Rota’s well. Now there’s nothing left even to promise.”

  * * *

  At Tiporsel House, they talked about floodtide like it was a holiday. The maisetra was always down at her school, making a place for the families of her students who’d been flooded out. Mesner and Maisetra Pertinek left town to go visiting. They wanted to take Maisetra Iulien with them, “to be safe from fever” she told me after she’d refused to go.

  “I can’t think that the fever would be worse than sitting around in a parlor listening to all the Pertinek cousins reminiscing about things I don’t know anything about,” she said. “I wish Cousin Margerit would let me go down to Urmai. I want to do something.”

  There was plenty to do in the flooded parts of the city, but that wasn’t work for a proper young lady. There wasn’t anything for a proper young lady to do with no parties or visiting. That meant no one asked why I was still giving half-days to Mefro Dominique, when anyone with sense would know we couldn’t be dressmaking right now. I came home bone-tired every afternoon and it was all I could do to keep awake after supper until I saw her tucked into bed. For now I kept going back and forth between worlds—the one where floodtide was a holiday and the one where it was a disaster.

  You could see the change bit by bit, coming down the Vezenaf. When I got to the Nikuleplaiz, I’d hike my skirts to keep them clean, not caring who might see my ankles. It was like a muddy duck pond all the way to the steps of the church. Water had gone into the little cottages built between the buttresses where some of the old charmwives lived and down into the vaults under the nave. The charmwives had moved their trade to the church steps along with the other market folks who still had something to sell. It was strange to see so much water without a storm to drive it and not a cloud in the sky.