by Moira Young
Git every last drop, she says, that’s the way. All done?
Thanks, I says. I hand our bowls back. I yawn. Emmi rubs her eyes.
You girls feelin sleepy? says Miz Pinch.
My eyelids is feelin so heavy all of a sudden. I yawn agin.
Guess I … ain’t used … to … all this walkin …, I says.
Saba, Emmi yawns. Why do I feel … so … tired …?
She curls up on deck an right away, she’s fast to sleep. Somethin ain’t right here. I git to my feet. I stagger a little.
Whoa … I shake my head, try to wake myself. My head’s so heavy, I cain’t hardly hold it up.
The Pinches is watchin me, a sly look in their eyes.
Then I know. The food …, I says. You put somethin in … the food. I go to slide my bow offa my back but my fingers go all slack. My hand drops down. My knees buckle unner me. I fall to the deck.
Why’d you … do that fer? I says.
My eyelids flutter.
Once.
Twi—
I’m lyin on somethin hard. Wood. My neck’s stiff. My head’s poundin. It hurts somethin fierce. I lick my dry lips. My shoulders ache. An my wrists. I groan.
I lift my head, force open heavy eyes. Rough wooden bunks, cookin pots hangin on the rickety walls. Where … cain’t seem to remember … wait … the landboat … the Desert Swan … Rooster Pinch … his wife. I must be inside the hut on the Desert Swan.
I go to move my arms but … I cain’t. I give ’em a yank. Metal bites into my wrists.
My heart leaps. Starts to race. I’m wide awake.
I’m lyin on a bunk. I’m chained, wrists an ankles, to metal rings set into a girder. Emmi’s on the next bunk, jest a few paces away. She’s chained up too. This hut ain’t the flimsy thing it looks to be. It’s wood panels attached to a frame made from iron.
We’re prisoners. A red hot wave of fury rushes through me. Fury an fear. Pinch! I roar, pullin at my chains. Pinch! Emmi! I says. Emmi! Wake up!
Slowly she lifts her head, eyes heavy an dull.
Wake up, Emmi! C’mon now! Emmi!
Her eyes widen when she sees me. She looks an sees her own wrists tied, sees her ankles. Her face twists with fear, she starts to breathe fast.
Saba! What’s goin on? What’re they gonna do to us?
Then I notice that the floor’s rumblin. The pots on the wall swing an sway. The Swan’s on the move.
Pinch! I scream. The hut door flies open. Miz Pinch steps inside an closes it behind her.
Well well, she says. Awake at last. Pleasant dreams, I hope.
Let us go! I yell. You got no right to do this!
Right ain’t got nuthin to do with it, she says. In this world, you gotta take what you want. She shrugs. We want you.
Whaddya mean, you want me?
She lifts the lid on a water bucket an dips a battered tin cup in it. Yer young, she says, an strong. A natural-born fighter from the look of it. I knew it right off. You’ll be perfect.
Perfect fer what? I says.
She straightens up. Look at me with her small dark eyes, cold as stones. Perfect, she says, fer cage fightin.
The little hairs on my arms stand on end. I shiver.
That’s right, girlie, she says. You better be afeared. Cage fightin’s mean. Nasty. An it’s big business in Hopetown. You’ll do well fer us.
I ain’t doin nuthin fer you, I says.
You ain’t gotta choice, she says.
You cain’t make me do nuthin, I says.
Oh you’ll do ezzackly what I tell you, she says.
I’ll see you in hell first, I says. Let us go! Pinch! Help! Pinch!
Save yer breath, she says. He does what I tell him. She walks over with the cup of water. Bends down an holds my head up. Drink it, she says. Cain’t have you goin thirsty. Cage fighters gotta be in prime condition.
I stare at her while I drink. I hold the water in my mouth, then I spit it in her face. She don’t say naught. Jest stares at me a moment, the water runnin down her face.
You shouldn’t of done that, she says.
She goes over to Emmi.
No! I yell. Don’t touch her!
She slaps her across the face. Hard. Emmi cries out. She lifts her head an I see her lip’s bin split open. Blood fills her mouth, trickles down her chin. She starts to cry.
Leave her alone! I yell. She’s a child! She ain’t done nuthin to you!
Miz Pinch comes over an kneels beside my bunk. Puts her face so close to mine that I can see every pock mark on her skin. So close I gag on her foul breath. It smells like meat left out in the sun. She smiles.
Every time you disobey me, she says, every time you try to git away, I’m gonna hit yer little sister. Hit her or … burn her. If I take the notion to, I might even break her arm. But I ain’t gonna hit you. I ain’t ever gonna hit you, my beauty.
She strokes a finger down my cheek. Her filthy nail scrapes aginst my skin.
An you know why? she says. Yer worth too much to me. Yer sister … she ain’t worth nuthin. Not to me anyways. I guess we’re gonna find out how much she’s worth to you.
I feel it when the sails go down. The Swan gits slower an slower an at last it shudders to a halt. There’s a clunk as the anchor hits the ground. We must be stoppin fer the night.
We bin watchin while Miz Pinch gutted an skinned a rock lizard an set it to stew on a bucket stove inside the hut, all the time hummin to herself. It’s like we ain’t even here.
I ain’t opened my mouth since she said that about hurtin Emmi. I bin tryin to think of a plan. Tryin to think what Lugh would do if he was me. If he was here. An how much I wish it was him an me here together an not me an Em. It wouldn’t be so bad then. I’d feel like maybe we had half a chance.
All right, Emmi? I whisper.
She nods, her eyes big in her thin little face. Her lip’s swolled up where Miz Pinch hit her, the blood dried all dark an crusty. I cain’t stand to think how I hit her too, back at the lake, an me her own flesh. She cried them first few moments after Miz Pinch whacked her, but she ain’t made a peep since.
You was right about ’em, I says. I’m sorry. I should of listened to you.
That’s okay, she says.
It ain’t okay, I says. An it’s my fault she hit you. I shouldn’t of spit at her.
I’m glad you did, Emmi says.
That’s the spirit, I says. I’ll git us outta here, Em. I promise.
Quit yer gabbin! Miz Pinch yells at us. Then she yanks open the door an shrieks, Grub up!
Rooster Pinch slips inside the hut.
You lyin bastard! I says.
He’s all shifty-eyed an hangdog an don’t meet my eyes. Pretends he don’t hear me. Smells capital, my dear! He rubs his hands together, all fake cheery, an sniffs the air. Sheer ambrosia!
Shut up, she says. Siddown.
They shovel it down. When he’s finished, he swipes his finger inside his bowl an licks off the thin gravy. She nods our way.
You better feed ’em, she says.
Me, my dear? Oh! Do you think that’s wise? You’d be much better at—
Her big hand shoots out an she clips him on the ear. He scurries to fetch a couple of tin basins an fills ’em with stew. He goes to Emmi first. He helps her to sit, scoops a spoonful an holds it out to her. She looks at me.
It’s okay, I says. I smile at her an she gives me a little smile back.
She eats eagerly, hungrily, hardly stoppin to chew.
That’s a good girl, says Pinch. That’s the way. He looks over his shoulder. Miz Pinch’s busy clearin up, hummin agin, not payin us no attention. He darts a look at me, whispers to both of us, It’s best if you just do what she says, my dears. If you don’t, believe me, it will go hard for you.
You gotta help us git away, I whisper. Please.
I can’t. I don’t dare. If you try to get away, she’ll kill you. That’s what she did to the last one. She sees everything. She—
Miz Pinch no
tices what he’s up to. What’s goin on over there? I hope you ain’t talkin to them girls, Rooster.
No! Of course not! Wouldn’t dream of it!
You better not be. An if I find out yer lyin to me, you know what’ll happen, don’t you? I’ll give you the burn. How’d you like that?
I wouldn’t, my treasure, he says.
Then git on with the feedin an be quick about it.
He hurries to finish with Emmi, then moves over to me. Whaddya mean, she killed the last one, I whisper. What last one?
He don’t reply. I try to make him catch my eye, but he won’t, he jest stares down at the bowl. His face is shiny with sweat an the spoon trembles in his hand. Fer the first time, I notice his hands an wrists is covered all over with ugly purple burn scars. Like somebody’s gone at ’em with a hot poker.
So that’s what she means when she says she’ll give him the burn. That’s what she does when he crosses her. He ain’t gonna help us. He’s too terrified.
We’re on our own.
An I feel calm.
It seems crazy, seein how we’re both chained hand an foot an there ain’t a soul to help us, but I’m calm. Because now I see what I gotta do. An what I ain’t gotta do, which is waste time thinkin that anybody’s gonna help us. That somebody’s gonna come along an rescue us. I cain’t count on nobody but me.
So what I gotta do now is watch. An learn. An think. An plan. I’m gonna make sure we stay alive, Emmi an me. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll do what the hellhag tells me.
But I’ll be watchin an waitin. An when the time comes, when it’s the right moment to make a move, I’ll be ready. I’ll know what to do an I’ll git us outta here.
Then we’ll go find Lugh. I promised him I would. An I ain’t no quitter. No matter what.
Miz Pinch comes towards me. She’s got a knife. She reaches out an I cower back aginst the wall. She grabs the back of my neck in a tight grip. I feed you, water you an then I slit yer throat, she says. I know that’s what yer thinkin. Huh. No such luck.
She grabs hold of my long braid an gives it a sharp twist, bringin my head down. I wince as pain shoots along my scalp. She saws at the top of the braid with her knife an pretty soon she’s cut it off. She holds it up.
That’s a fine tail of hair, she says. Should fetch a good price.
Then she brings over a basin of hot water, a bar of soap an a straight razor. Without sayin a word, she throws the water over my head, soakin me. She rubs the soap over my head. It runs down into my eyes, makes ’em sting an water. I don’t make a peep. I look at Emmi, give her a little smile to tell her not to worry.
Then I stare straight ahead. Once she’s got me soaped to her likin, she takes the razor an starts shavin off my hair. Clumps drop onto the floor with a wet plop.
You don’t want hair fer the Cage, she says. A smart fighter shaves their head. You don’t wanna give yer opponent nuthin to hang onto. Whatever you do, don’t let ’em git hold of yer ears. They’ll rip a ear offa yer head before you know it. Cage fightin ain’t ezzackly what you’d call clean.
Jest then, I notice what she’s got around her neck. My heartstone. The pink heartstone that my mother gave to Mercy. That Mercy gave to me. She must of gone through my stuff an took what she wanted.
I hiss in a breath. My heart leaps into my throat. I wanna rip it from around her neck. Claw her face to pieces fer darin to even touch it. I twist myself outta her grasp. Gimme that back! I says.
She jumps back, all startled. Then she sees what I’m lookin at. Stretches her mouth into a mean, thin lipped smile. Oh, she says, I see yer admirin my new necklace. I found it lyin around. Ain’t it amazin how careless people is with their valuables?
I glare hate at her. Pull on my chains, my fists clenched.
Careful now, beauty, she says. She lifts the razor in her hand an looks over at Emmi.
I slump back.
She reaches out. Grabs my hair. Then she goes on shavin my head till I ain’t gone none left. Till I’m completely bald.
They set Emmi free an put her to work, scrubbin the floor, haulin water an washin the dishes an pots. All the dirty work they don’t wanna do theirselves.
An jest to make sure I unnerstand the way things is, that she means what she says, Miz Pinch hits Em when she catches her speakin to me or when she don’t move quick enough. Hits her over the head, pinches her on the arm. Once, she sticks out her foot an trips her while she’s carryin a bucket of water an then she hits her when it spills.
Em jest picks herself up an keeps workin. She don’t make a sound.
Neether do I. But my hands curl into fists an my nails dig into my palms so hard that they bleed.
We travel with the wind. Stoppin when it rests, movin when it blows. But it rests more’n it blows. I only git glimpses of daylight or moonlight when the Pinches come an go outta the cabin. I ain’t got a clue how many days have passed an nor does Em. Feels like we’ve bin here ferever.
Emmi’s face gits more pinched an pale. An she weeps silently at night.
They feed me all the best food. They want me to be strong.
I spend my time sittin on my bunk. I’m shackled hand an foot an chained to the wall fer good measure. Miz Pinch sets me free three times a day to stretch my arms an legs, but only inside the hut. While I do, she holds a knife to Emmi’s throat.
But not jest any knife. My knife. The one I keep shoved down inside my boot sheath. The one she took offa me. Miz Pinch smiles, tauntin me, provokin me. Go on, that smile says, jest try it. Try it an see what happens. She’d like that. To hurt Em with my knife.
So I’m free but I cain’t do a thing.
I don’t let my face show what I’m thinkin. Don’t let her see the hate that burns in my heart. The rage that gnaws at my gut. I keep my face blank.
I watch her. I watch him.
I wait fer the right moment.
If the wind blows us fair, tomorrow we’ll be in Hopetown.
HOPETOWN
ROOSTER PINCH THROWS ANCHOR ON THE DESERT SWAN jest outside Hopetown.
Miz Pinch unties me an jerks her head.
I follow her, shufflin onto deck in my ankle an wrist chains. I stand there, blinkin in the bright daylight. I feel dazed. I ain’t bin outside the dark cramped hut since they snatched us. Must be five, six days ago now. I squint at the sun. High noon.
Hopetown spreads out in front of us, half a league away. It squats at the foot of a dusty hill an straggles up its slopes. I ain’t never seen more’n one shanty at a time before. Heard tell of how Wreckers lived, all crammed close together in cities an towns, but never thought I’d see such a place.
An it never crossed my mind that if I did see such a place, it wouldn’t be nuthin more’n a heap of ramshack shanties leanin one aginst th’other. It looks like the whole lot ’ud come tumblin down if you gave one a good kick.
What a fine sight! says Pinch. Nothing like the hurly burly of city life to gladden the heart!
There’s commotion all around us. Folks rattle past the Swan in clouds of dust, in carts pulled by fierce-lookin wolfdogs, on horseback, by mule an camel, on foot. They flow in an outta a big gate in the junk palisade that runs all around Hopetown. I ain’t never seen so many people before in my life. I look this way an that, tryin to take it all in.
Emmi’s standin next to me. The Pinches ain’t lookin. I lift my chained hands an she slips unnerneath. She wraps her arms around my waist an gives me a fierce hug. The Pinches keep her workin so hard, she’s even scrawnier’n usual.
This is it, I says. Hopetown.
What’s gonna happen now? she whispers.
I dunno, I says. We’ll find out soon enough, I reckon. Whatever happens, keep yer eyes peeled fer Lugh.
Jest then, a familiar caw caw caw rings out. I look up. A big black bird circles, high above. I’d know that wingspan anywhere.
Nero! I says. He swoops down, buzzes jest over our heads, then soars on up agin. My heart soars with him. Tears spring to my eyes. He
must of bin followin us the whole time, I says.
I knew he wouldn’t leave us! says Em. I knew it!
You better move, I says. Quick, before she sees you.
I lift my hands an jest as she slips out agin, Miz Pinch turns around. She frowns. What’s goin on? You know the rules!
She grabs Emmi. Raises her arm to backhand her. Jest then Pinch calls out, Miz Pinch! The chariot’s here, my love!
She stops. Looks over her shoulder.
A scabby camel steps up beside the Swan. He’s pullin a rusted out car behind him, hitched on with a harness. By the filthy look on his face, he ain’t too pleased with how things’ve worked out fer him. He rolls his eyes an snaps his long yellow teeth at the legs of the little boy perched on his hump.
Miz Pinch turns back. I’ll tend to you later, she hisses to Em. Right now, I got bigger business.
C’mon, missus, I ain’t got all day, says the camel boy. Where to?
Miz Pinch yanks at my chains. I stumble forwards.
Take us to the Cage Master, she says.
I peer outta the windows as we bump slowly through Hopetown on flat tires. It’s so crowded with people we cain’t hardly move. They press aginst the chariot, starin in at us. The camel boy leans down an cracks his whip at ’em, tryin to clear the way.
I look fer golden hair tied back in a long braid. Fer eyes blue as a summer sky.
Are you here, Lugh?
A man’s back. Broad shoulders, gold hair—short, but they could of cut his hair by now—the right height. My heart skips a beat. Every muscle in my body goes tense.
Turn around, turn around, oh please turn around, let me see you.
He does. It ain’t Lugh.
At that moment, a man leans through the window. He grabs my arm an starts to try an pull me out, chains an all.
I don’t stop to think. I twist, I scrabble, I brace myself on the chariot, give myself a foothold.
Stop! Rooster Pinch beats at the man’s head with his tattered umburella. Unhand her!
Saba! Emmi cries.
The red hot floods me. I bite down on his filthy hand. He yells out but hangs on. I bite harder. Deeper. I bite till I taste his blood. He shrieks an lets go. He falls back. Gits swallowed by the crowd.
