Year of the Orphan

by Daniel Findlay

  They knew his face, knew that he’d be callin his numbers usin the hands, that he werent gunna be yellin anythin in a hurry, now or ever. That was well an good, more than a few silent faces in the System. When the boss showed up finally an watched two fellas go past on the block they knew he werent gunna be callin out either. Just left it to Karra. Hands was no good in a cipher but they was plenny fine for makin trades an whippin curs. Now the sun were up the heat were chokin, makin evry breath burn in his chest an even the little heeltoe steps of the sellers an buyers was draggin up enough dust to start sum other fella coughin in the back. Werent no moren forty blokes, just a quiet mornin, movin weight of wire, cloth an iron. Sum sellin old books but nowun was buyin. Usually rubbish these days, all the farmin an smithin an diggin books was long gone, hidden away. They was more story than anythin else anyway Karra reckoned. Werent nowun growin much out here. Werent the tools for smithin neither. Place were a fucken blight. What they had to go by was what was in their heads, for a long time now. What they had to trade was what they made or hunted or scavved an dust knew things was gettin harder out on the sand. All things even better to be in here than out there he reckoned. He remembered the walls goin up not that long ago, shitty things they was. Piled em around the Stacks an them tyres was gunna be more trouble than they was worth, mark him. He moved the stump of his tongue around in his mouth, workin sum moisture into the back of his throat as a yungen was dragged up onto the block by a rope collar. He could feel the boss straighten up an peer at the kid. Looked like a bag of bones but at least she had both her arms an legs. The scav what brought her pulled her up by the throat an her hands went quick to her neck as she got throttled. She kicked, showin them buyin that she could move. He dropped her back down hard on the packed ground but she dint cry out. Sumwun from over his shoulder spoke up.

  I seen that yungen before. Its blud of that woman what casts the ash, the wun what lives outside the boundary, out towards the Glows. Looks myling to me.

  The scav with the rope hawked an spat on the ground next to the kid.

  Aint no fucken myling, look at her. Live as they come. Shes an orphan. Bluds dead. Her nearenough too. Ghosts et em, dunno how they missed her but here she is. Her ma was a clever wun, this wun might be as well.

  Fucken scavs, had no idea. Karra knew her price was gunna halve at least. Ya dint mention the Ghosts on the block an ya sure as shit dint sell sumwun a clever bit of cattle. The seller werent a slaver though, Karra could see, just a scav from out in the dust whatd found a live wun. Knew no better. In here ya dint taint nuthin with Ghosts that was for sale. Out there it mighta been sumthin ya lived with but System fellas werent too keen to think on what was past the fence. He felt the boss tap his shoulder an for all his years servin he turned an looked at the Old Man, raisin his brows. The old fella was all hooded up spite the heat, face in shadow like it always were, a scatter of grey hairs on his chin an dust in evry weathered crack an wrinkle. He looked square back an nodded his head before turnin an makin his slow way through the gathered folk. Karra turned back to the block, not riskin a shake of his head, knowin that it could earn him a floggin but what was the Old Man thinkin? He stood still a moment more an then moved forwards through the fellas in front of him, diggin his hand into his pocket, feelin the scraps of gold there, shiftin them in his sweaty palm, his brow drippin with sweat an the heat startin to burn his pale skin that never seemed to darken. He raised his hand an the fella on the hammer pointed at him. Werent no other takers on this wun. First price was the last price. An for good reason. They was takin gold an bindings an a little clear wine. He waited ready to count and remember the price. The yungen had been pulled upright by its dusty hair now and stood swayin on bony shanks. He could see proper now its palms black with dry blud and the eyes dark blue and flat in the burned an dirty face. Karra felt a shiver on him as her gaze drifted over the fellas in front of her. She were worthless, he knew it sudden. She was already dead and gettin work from her was gunna be impossible. He had an urge to warn the boss but the old fella was already away up the road. Concerned with bigger things was the boss, though dust knew what. He sucked in a lungful of scorchin air an signed a weight an number to the cando man runnin the auction and it were done. He had his self a stablemate, a dirty bruised orphan standin no higher than his hip. Dark hair bleached to dirty brown by the sun an covered with the taint of the Glow and the Ghosts. He dint trouble himself too much with them superstitions but they shat him anyways. Wun more thing to be thinkin about. He stepped up to the hammerman who looked like he couldnt fathom his luck an dropped metal on him an took the rope roughly, signin wunhanded.

  Come collect the rest, word is bond.

  The yungen stumbled and he dragged her sharp upright. Karra dropped his gaze down an looked into the eyes of the yungen. Nah, werent no myling. Near dead but live enough. He signed awkward again with wun hand, keepin a grip on her shoulder.

  You speak the hands?

  She dint give no sign of understandin. Ferfucksake. He sighed, air whistlin past what was left of his tongue. Course the bossd choose sum sand rat without no lernin or voice an couldnt fucken sign. Sum skinny vermin with flat eyes that werent gunna live to see seven sunups. Ferfucksake. He slapped the kid across the face, then again harder, snappin its head to the side, sumthin like shock cuttin through whatever werent happenin in its head. It half looked up at him, stick arms an hands like dead spiders comin up real slow from its sides an bless his fucken eyes it were signin at him. Slow as a loaded cornerboy but the scrap could speak sum kinda hands.

  My mum …

  He leaned down to her, stopping her hands with his own an signin slow an clear.

  Yer mums dead yungen. Yer an orphan, unnerstand?

  The kid dint move but she was lookin at him. He raised his hand to slap her out of her daze again.

  I unnerstand.

  She signed back slow an deliberate, face blank.

  Good. That old fella what was just here, thats the big boss. Me, Im yer evryday boss. You belong to that fella an that means you belong to me. Yer gunna do whatever yer told, sun up to sun down an all the night between.

  Dust driftin in her breath. A small nod.

  Good. Now we’re goin home, Im gunna show you yer digs an then we’re gunna get you to work.

  The kid dint move. Snakequick he clipped her behind the ear. He were startin to see there werent gunna be much cryin comin from this wun. Dint look the type. Yep, he could pick em. Least when this wun carked it, it were square on the boss. She werent gunna take moren a scrap of food here or there, were gunna be dead in a week give or take. End up on the pits like all them others.

  Water?

  He looked down half surprised at his charge. She dry swallowed the heat.

  Water? This time she signed.

  So ya got a voice do ya? Water is for them what work.

  The yungen spoke again in a clear, low voice.

  I can find the water. I can see the sound, me mum …

  He leaned down to look at the kid again, but the voice faded to nuthin, lost in its breath again. It seemed like it was speakin sum kind of truth but the words were nonsense. It were a pretty small kid after all, mighta been lernin to talk, mixin up its words an made a bit mad by the sun and whateverd happened to it out past the boundaries. He looked it up and down and an then kneeled down so he were eye level with it. He kept the rope wrapped around his gnarled knuckles an signed slow for her.

  We’re goin back to the bosses place, theres water there. Stay in step an Ill take ya off the rope when we get back. Act up, Ill knock ya flat.

  He dint wait for a reply, just stood up, both knees crackin and protestin, an started walkin in the old fellas footprints back to the homestead, tuggin on the rope whenever she fell behind. The foot track led them back out of the Centre, past hooks and cuts. He kept his head up, draggin but not too hard on the scrap, an she kept up good enough. The odd stunted sheoak, even in here, tappin down into sum lost water, more specked around th
e wells. If he turned he coulda seen the tops of the tyre stacks an the tower in the centre but he had no need to be rilin himself this early in the day. The tower, the tyres, the walls an the boss’s place was sat all around him but he knew where he’d rather be. It werent on the wall, the Watch could have that all to their pissed selves, and it werent the Stacks with their stink an rotten faces an sharp knives. Nah, the Centred be good enough for him. Been in there plenny with the old fella, seen how there werent even much dust against the sills in the middle. Were cool in them old buildins too. Seen they had sum real old glass that still let the light in an werent crazed an cracked like most else around here. His mind were wanderin an he checked himself sharp. Quickest way to the lash. Aint had many stripes put on him but even once was enough. It were gettin hotter an he could feel the sweat drippin down his back. Sumwun musta brought in a load of roo an there were a smell of meat an brush fires as people got to cookin. No sign from the yungen though that she had a hunger, or anythin much else. Karras own mouth was waterin at the rank, oily smell of dust knew what fryin up but he never tarried no more with gold on him an business to finish up.

  The Old Mans place rose up outta the shacks an dust like it were sprung from the soil but Karra knew it were put there not all that long ago. Were from before his time but werent no proper leavebehind, though it were made outta stuff from the before. Three big steel boxes pushed together, two end to end in a crookleg shape an wun on top makin an eyrie. He dint know how theyd stacked em but there werent no give in the thing. Just jagged cuts in the steel done with blunt saws an hammered flat, rust creepin on the chopped edges. Inside were holes and hung sackcloth makin rooms outta corners, an a partbroken ladder in the dark leadin up to where the boss kept the books an salves, all the strange things of medicine he’d collected over who knew how many years walkin the sand. Karra turned back to the Orphan but she werent lookin. He jerked on her lead an waited till she caught up, crouchin low on the sand next to her, tryna see it through fresh eyes. It were all he knew, an now it were gunna be all she knew too. Hadta remember his own awe when he first saw it. It were wun of the only places in the System that had sum kinda fence, rusted girders sunk into the dirt an strung with wire, the whole place a kinda warped three sides an sittin a hundred strides inside the edge of the big wall itself. A gate of corrugated iron and an awnin made outta burlap that he’d strung up an hadta clear of sand an dust evry other day. That were gunna be her chore now. The big steel boxes that made up the house was different colours, eaten an chipped by rust and the endless sandstorms, wun faded blue with Maersk on the side an Hanjin on the two rust coloured wuns. Old time words, musta meant sum big stuff back when and werent nuthin now. He’d heard sum fellas say now an again they was goin up the Hanjin when they was fetchin medicines an poultices an the like. He looked away from it, at the Orphan, who was starin slackjawed at the boxes. Musta been the biggest thing she ever seen. He took her shoulders an unhitched her from the rope, signin slow an careful when she were standin free.

  This is yer new digs. Im tellin ya twice cos Im feelin real kind this mornin. The bloke what owns this place owns you an me. Whatever shit yer peoples mighta told ya about who ya was an what yer worth, ya can forget it. Theres nuthin special about ya an if yer like the last three yungens that come through here youll be dead in a week. Yer keep yer head pulled in an dos yer told while yer breathin. Stay outta me way unless I call for ya. You hear me clappin, ya come runnin. Unnerstand? Ya stuff up, or dont do what yer told, first Ill beat ya, then the lash.

  His mouth filled with saliva an his back ached for a sec when he mentioned the catonine. The kid was lookin at him kinda dumb an all a sudden he couldnt stand her face no more. He cuffed her around the head, harder than he meant to. A perilous small kid, skinny wrists and legs, a halfwild thing from the waste, eyes standin out like opals, sharp bones cut outta its face. Clear though, he saw, she were lucky that way, the flies seemed to leave her alone. Most of them what came from outside the boundaries werent too bad, it were more System kids what came to see the boss with gummed up dusteyes. Werent gunna be too much heavy liftin goin on by the look of her stark shoulders. In fact it were just gunna be more work for him. The boss werent gunna have nuthin more but another wastrel an less on the plate for Karra. He grabbed it round the neck, fingers almost wrappin the whole way. He could feel the little nobs of her spine stickin into his palm. Coulda squeezed hard an saved em all the trouble. Werent gunna be long anyway he figgered. He pointed at the small pit next to the building.

  Shit goes there, ya eat inside when I tell ya, an work starts now. Go inside an get a step an a stick an get the dust off that cloth up there. Then come find me.

  She moved like he’d ordered. Stoppin for a second at the door just like he remembered himself doin the first time.

  3

  She dint know when she’d fallen asleep but it werent when she planned. Meant to lie still an keep watch but exhaustion took her. Had enough wits about her to wrap her mouth again an that were a small blessin itself. She’d dreamed again. Itd been happenin more an more of late. Bright an sharp too. She remembered slicin herself on brittle old glass as a yungen. Her mum’d cleaned out the cut with Jon watchin on an then she’d held em both close a moment. Tellin em to look after each other. She knew now why Mum an Jon’d been lookin at each other. If she’d picked up infection there were precious little to be done. The wound was clean though, she’d healed nearenough overnight, her mum lookin hard at her next sunup, turnin her wrist this way an than, mutterin to herself. Now she dint even have a scar to remind her. Hadnt thought of it in years but the look twixt her mum an Jon was fresh in her mind.

  She were losin it mayhap. Not enough water, runnin ahead of the breeze she was. Had been gettin slack, leanin on the ship too much. She’d been on shanks pony most her life but now she were sailin she were slippin. Aint forgot her craft though. All day she’d been backtrackin through the gullies, draggin brush over her prints and stayin in the old water tracks. She wore boots trimmed with frayed rope, her tracks just marks in the dust that coulda been made by the wind. Near enough invisible she were, findin the riverbeds long dry an the hard ground. Learned that wun from the old scavs she had. Only cost her a finger an the nights in the cipher she werent gettin back. She looked down at the halfpinky on her left hand. Bothered her more than she let on. Theyd told her back when, water would always find the lowest ground and so should she. Stay off the ridges, watch your shape against the sun. Sumtime durin the day, she couldnt right remember when, she’d lost sight of the dusty shadow that tracked her from just inside the horizon. Not seein him at all, hours of loopin an backtrackin mighta been wasted. She’d know soon enough. Had been edgin her way towards the System and now it were only a day, maybe two from where she lay. In the cold just inside the boundaries she could tell herself for seconds here an there she was safe and there were no Reckoner on her trail. She thought of Block. If she made it to the walls she was gunna pay him a visit, owed him that at least. On top of all else he was her best buyer an the Wide Open Road meant sumthin to him as well. She was gunna need his help again if she was ever goin to get it back and even with all the blud tweenem it paid never to get on the wrong side of Block. The ground sumtimes wept the blud of those Block had sent down. She looked at her hands, even in the dark they had a shine, dint need any special eyes to see that. It hadta be no moren a few degrees but her palms were sweatin like she were down the Spirals. The foolin herself werent lastin. She shook herself, tryna fight the sleep an the long night comin.

  4

  Before

  Block sat sharpenin his hook knife, watchin the backs of the fellas facin the sale. He stroked the pitted blade across the oilstone, feelin the burrs disappear, listenin to the edge come up. Without lookin down he grazed his thumb across the blade and then took a thimble of steel from his pocket. He rolled the blade over it, straightenin the sharpness, and then slipped blade, stone and metal back into a pocket of his dusty corduroy. There were a kid o
n the hammer today. A bony orphan dragged on a rope, knees like marbles. Dint often see other kids up for sale. His mind were wanderin. He spied the rich old fella that lived out near the wall. He were watchin the yungen on the block, an the bald prick that come an bid for him near evry other day. Plenny to spend the old rich fella did, plenny to lose, enough to spare a scrap or two for a hardup yungen Block reckoned. Sum metal gone to barter, then sum old gear, wire an such, an then Block watched the old fella bugger off back up the road. The kid got bought, no surprises there. Dragged off by the bald fella. He shivered in the heat. Next were a yung bloke. Blocks eyes flicked back and forth between the hammerman an them what was buyin. The fella were tall but weak lookin, skin a pale cast under the sun, hair like dirty copper. He dint seem to speak no tongue, come from the sand, a wanderer sumhow left out there he reckoned. Lucky to even be breathin. The trade on him picked up an then he were gone, weighed against clear wine, cloth an spars, hard tack. Scavver buildin a ship he reckoned an him cattle for wun of them cando fellas in the middle. Wouldnt wish that on nowun. The swap kept swingin back an forth, steel scraps for blud, glass for wire. Food an gold, trash an treasure up fer trade. More metal than regular, scavs musta found a vein out in the Glows an come to sum kinda parlay cos they was all bringin it in an dint look like no blud been spilled. Innerestin. Long while since a truce got held outside the boundaries. He’d heard tell it was gettin harder out there. Hadta go farther. Might be that he gotta head out an see for himself but not today he reckoned. Today he was gunna do his scavvin inside. He picked his mark while the sun were still low. There was enough trade goin on around the System, enough back ways, enough swapsie between block and pocket that nowun was ever gunna notice. Them fellas in the middle that was buildin up their wall was all worried about what was outside, dint look too close at the inside no more. They got it twisted he reckoned. Plenny to worry about on the inside. Block ran his finger along the string that ran into his pocket, all the way to the birds beak he’d just honed up. He was gunna eat tonight, nuthin more certain.