Dried fruit in hand, he looked up and found himself staring into the eyes of this woman. She was angry. Even as a child who had never known anger, who had never felt the swat of a hand on his backside even after he had broken all the pots in one afternoon—scrambling up the cupboard and sending it crashing to the floor in a heap of powder and clay shards—he sensed that something wasn’t quite right. “I didn’t want to tell you—” his father was saying, and the woman turned from him and back to Jak, and the argument began again just as Grandma scooped him into her arms. He hid out the rest of the evening in the kitchen, where Grandma made him help her with the dough, pulling long strands of it to turn into noodles. Later that night, his father came to take him. Jak placed him on his lap, smoothed his hair back, and stared at him for the longest time. And then he told him, haltingly, that he was going to be a big brother.
Years and years ago, now, but the memory sometimes felt like from yesterday. Kasia turned and went back inside as soon as he reached the doorway. He knew what this meant and followed her into the kitchen. “I need those cleaned,” Kasia said without looking at him. She pointed at the direction of the table, at the bowls and plates that were heaped high, dotted with rice crumbs and cold lard. Luc suddenly remembered that there had been a feast last night.
Without a word, Luc took a bucket and cleared the table. He stepped through the backdoor and made his way down the familiar path to the pump. The air was thick with the sound of the wind whistling as it rushed through the trees. In the distance, the mountain peaks were dusted with white already, and he suspected they would see snowfall soon.
He heard footsteps, and turned around, half-hoping Jak had come home. He just wanted to get it all over with. But it was Kasia, carrying the pot and some pans. She dropped them beside him and paused to tuck away a stray strand of hair from her forehead. Luc gazed up at her, unsure if he had done something wrong. Kasia’s silences could be grating like that. It never really bothered him before.
It seemed that a lot of things didn’t bother him until now, and he wasn’t sure where it was all coming from. Was it the price he was paying for having allowed himself to get carried away with his dreams in the first place? General Luc, indeed. It was his father who first started on with it, and if he had known how much it would derail his life, how awful it was all going to make him feel, perhaps he should’ve never gone and tried in the first place.
“It’s going to be a lot harder, you know, with both of you gone,” Kasia said, breaking his train of thought.
“Maybe I don’t have to go,” Luc started. “It was a bad idea, anyway.”
Kasia’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t reply immediately.
“You’re right,” Luc continued. “Da’s got a bad back, and even if Alun tried to come home as often as he could, he’s not going to be much help around here. Ceri’s going off, too, so you won’t have anyone. Maybe I just should stay here.”
She gave him a look that made him want to crawl inside a hole and die.
“Why,” she said, “would you do that?”
“But you just said—”
“I was trying to make it clear how important it is you don’t bring shame to your father’s name while you’re up in Tilarthan,” Kasia said. “I’ve heard what those recruits get up to. Drinking, gambling, whoring, fighting.” She glanced at his brow and frowned. “I don’t know what you were up to last night—your father thought the worst, but I suspected it might have something to do with your newfound freedom. I told him as much. He wouldn’t believe me.”
He swallowed. “Where is he?”
“Ian and his family were heading to Blackwood with Loma this morning, and he and Alun came along to try to find you in town. I told them not to bother. Told them you’d be home soon enough, stinking of wine and women, and here you are.”
“Mother,” he started. Seventeen years later, and the word still made him feel uneasy. It never quite fit. “You know I’m not like that.”
“Whatever are you saying, Luc? You spend all of your evenings up at that village tavern. I’ve told you thousands of times that I’d rather you stay here like Alun does. Certainly would encourage your father to go up there less, Agartes help me.”
He fell silent. Her anger never exploded the way he’d heard some other mothers did—it leaked everywhere, like steam from a hissing kettle. He wouldn’t know how to push it back in even if he tried.
“I suppose passing the exam means you think you’re entitled to the town taverns now. Don’t try to deny it. Ceri told me this morning...she’d gone back last night to try to find you, too, and spotted you in that run-down place Old Bokta runs. She didn’t have the heart to tell your father, and neither did I. You may be off on your own for the first time, Luc, but I’ll have none of that in this family, you hear me?”
“I can stay,” he murmured, after a moment.
She narrowed her eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”
“But you do need the help, and…”
“And don’t use us as an excuse. We’ll get by. It’ll be hard, but we’ll get by. I just hope you understand how much of a sacrifice it will be, losing you around here…we’ll have to hire someone, and the chores aren’t going to do themselves…” Kasia sniffed, catching on to his hesitance. “Are you telling me you’re afraid?”
“Maybe…”
“You’re going to break your father’s heart because you’re afraid.”
He swallowed. How was he supposed to answer that?
Kasia took over the handle for him and returned to scrubbing the plates. They worked wordlessly for a few moments, and maybe longer. Luc found himself glancing up at her and the way she glared at the grease in that pot. She had never, as far as he could remember, looked at him with any sort of affection in those eyes. Mother, they made him call her, but whatever mothering she had in her all went to Alun, who had needed all of them from the moment he was born. If there was one person in the world who wouldn’t lie to him to spare his feelings, it was her.
“I tried to convince him to get you to stay here,” she continued. “Not because we can’t get by without you here, but because I know what it’s like in Tilarthan. That place will eat you up, Luc. Nothing in this life has prepared you for what you’ll see there. Life in the military isn’t all fun and games…I’m afraid of what you’ll do once you decide it isn’t for you after all. But he wants this for you. He wants this more than he’s ever allowed himself to want anything in his life.”
“For me? Or for him?”
“For you,” she repeated, narrowing her eyes. “For a while, he was afraid you didn’t have it in you to forge your own way into the world. I told him he was out of his mind. He needs to stop treating you like you’re still that infant he found. You’re a man grown now, Luc. Show your father that. Make him stop worrying. If anything, you should’ve done this years ago.”
~~~
It was odd to be at home alone with Kasia. Before, he would’ve been convinced he would’ve found it an uncomfortable experience. But she left him alone, retreating to the safety of her bedroom as soon as she was done lecturing him, which meant he didn’t have to talk about whatever happened up in Crossfingers. He finished washing the dishes and began the laborious task of chopping firewood for the stove. He was staring at the empty road, halfway through his daily pile, before he realized the hunger gnawing in the pit of his stomach. Only then did he remember the mercenaries in the barn.
He wiped the sweat from his jaw and made his way to the kitchen. There was still food from last night’s feast—rice that had hardened in the pot and fried pork belly that must’ve been all hot and crispy last night, but was now covered in cold, jellied sludge. It still smelled good, though. He also found a stew that smelled vaguely of coconut, green chilies, and more pork fat—Ian must’ve brought the ingredients from Port Bluetree. Coconut was hard to come by in those parts.
Luc heaped as much of the food as he could into tin plates all while his stomach protested at why he wa
sn’t eating now. He also found old bread from yesterday morning, wrapped it up in a piece of cloth, and—along with a skin filled with fresh spring water—placed everything inside a basket. And then he made his way up to the loft he shared with Alun. There used to be a ladder, back when he slept on his own and before Grandma had left Port Bluetree to join them. Right around that time, Alun had gotten it into his head that he wanted to sleep beside his brother instead of his parents; after weeks of arguing and tears, Jak and Kaisa finally agreed and hired one of the neighbours to build a small flight of stairs. Luc would help his brother down each step every morning, and then up again at night, every day, without fail.
It all still felt like yesterday. Alun was old enough, now, and used a cane when he had to. He had stopped needing Luc a long time ago. Even the long flight up the steps of Skellcilan Academy had been a feat he could’ve done on his own, given time—Luc knew that. Somehow, he must’ve always known that.
Amazing how Kasia’s words seemed to have lifted the veil off his eyes. The dull silence reverberating through the small house intensified it. He remembered Brother Hamis’ words. You’re not dead yet, Luc.
So why did he feel like it?
He bit back against the frustration building up inside him and took three woollen blankets from the closet to add to his basket. And then, as silently and as carefully as he could, he left the house again, only stopping by the coop long enough to feed the chickens, all of whom seemed jealous of the attention he paid the ducks from earlier.
The barn seemed empty when he arrived. Only when he was in clear view of the windows did the two women emerge. “Heard anything?” Tasha asked as Hana reached for the basket.
Luc shook his head. He didn’t quite trust them enough to say that his mother was alone in the farm. He sat down as Hana pulled out the food, and felt his stomach gurgle again.
Hana must’ve heard it, too. “Come and join us,” she said with a smile, pointing at him with a spoon.
He took a plate and ate with his hands. The cold food was glorious. But once his hunger was sated, he began to grow drowsy. Somehow, in spite of everything, he found himself dozing off. He dreamed of Michell staring back at him, hands balled into fists. He wanted to ask if they could trade places, but it felt like his tongue had been cut off. It wasn’t even that he wanted to die—he just wanted the pain to end.
Luc woke up abruptly to Hana sitting beside him, a curious look on her face.
His mind cleared up. He stared back at her, noting once more how young she looked despite what her greasy hair and her manner of clothing suggested. Her eyes were hazel-brown, a little like Alun’s. Freckles dotted her nose and cheeks, and her skin had an uneven tan all throughout.
“Hey,” he croaked out. “I let my guard down and you didn’t kill me. I think we’re making progress.”
She cracked a smile. “You’ve been good to us. I told I didn’t want you dead.”
“Was that what your I’m sorry meant? It wasn’t clear.”
“Still sore about that, I see. I don’t blame you.” She settled on the cold ground beside him. “We’ve been a mess since we arrived in Port Bluetree. Between Oswyn, Tasha, and Demon’s arguing, our lives in constant danger, and everything we’ve left behind in Cairntown…we were just hoping to get to Crossfingers unscathed. No chance in hell for that, now.” She cocked her head towards him. “You remind me of someone I know. He’s about your age, too.”
“That’s the first I’ve heard. I’m Gorenten—I tend not to remind people of anyone they know.”
“You’re not the first Gorenten I’ve come across. Seems like your kind can be found anywhere Dageis doesn’t care to look.”
“Your kind?”
Her cheeks reddened. “I’m sorry. Was that offensive? It wasn’t meant to be.”
“I didn’t know mercenaries apologized as much as you did.”
“Demon always did say I was an odd duck.” She pulled out a dagger and began to play with it. “Tell me about yourself, Lucky,” she said. Evidently, she still found his name amusing. Most people did.
“What’s there to tell?” he mumbled. “I’m a foundling.” He’d said the exact same thing a hundred times before.
Hana nodded. “That much is plain.”
“And this is my life.” He indicated the barn, and the fields beyond it, with flourish.
“No goats though, you said.”
He grimaced. “Killed at the start of the season.”
“By what?”
“We don’t know.”
Hana’s face grew sombre. “I see.”
“What…what do you mean?”
She fingered the edge of the dagger. “Nothing. Lucky—I’ll be honest with you. We’re at your mercy. I’m not sure why you haven’t called the guards on us. Pa always liked to say you don’t look a gift horse in the mouth but I’m going to take my chances. Why are you doing this?”
“I don’t understand your question,” he said.
“Tasha killed your friend.” She gave a small nod towards the barn, where Tasha had hidden herself in after the meal. “And, being her usual, less-than-charming self, has threatened you more than once, I believe.”
“Michell wasn’t my friend,” Luc replied. “I told you that. He killed one of yours. And your manners aside, you haven’t done anything to me. My father always taught me not to turn my back on people who needed help.”
“Even if it means breaking the law?”
He hesitated. “I…I didn’t think of it that way.”
“You’re assisting a murderer.”
“It was an accident. I saw it with my own eyes.” He paused. “Maybe if you went to the guards to explain, I could—”
She shook her head. “Don’t even think about bringing that up with Tasha. I’ll be honest with you, Lucky—it’s not exactly the guards we’re trying to avoid. But there’s people after us, and the less trouble we run into until we get to Blackwood, the better. Go up to the guardhouse? We’ll be detained until this all clears up, probably for weeks. Tasha won’t allow something like that to happen. This job is extremely important to her. Poor Treda…I suppose there’s not much we can do for him now.” She sighed. “I brought this all up because I wanted to see what you were thinking. Aren’t you hoping to gain something from this? Maybe you’re waiting until the guards put up a reward for Tasha, and then you turn on us?”
“No,” he replied. Even if she hadn’t been twiddling with a blade so casually, he would’ve said the same thing.
“It’s almost too good to be true.” She gave a small, whistling breath through her nose. “Tasha will hate that I’m going behind her back like this, but we don’t have much choice right now. We need to get to Blackwood. The client promised he would clear our name if we do what he asks. If you’ll assist us, I think it goes without saying that we could make it very profitable for you.”
Luc swallowed. The promise of money didn’t entice him. “What did you guys do?” he asked.
Hana smiled. “If I told you, I might have to kill you.”
“Well, never mind that, then.” He glanced at the road. “Blackwood’s only about a few days’ walk away. It’s hard to miss.”
“We know that. But how far do you think we’ll get like this, especially once word gets out? We’ve left all of our supplies back in the inn.”
He glanced away. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“Don’t think too long,” Hana said with a grin. “Being at your mercy won’t sit well with Tasha, and if she decides to do something drastic, I won’t be able to stop her. You think she just carries her sword around for show?”
“Now look who’s making threats.”
“Not a threat,” Hana giggled. “It’s a fact.”
~~~
Hana, true to her word, allowed him to think about it, and let him leave the barn without a knife between his ribs.
Luc hadn’t realized how much he was holding his breath around the mercenaries until after he had stepped away
from them again. Hardly a day had gone by since he’d met them, but everything was starting to tumble around him like a wall of bricks. Perhaps if all of this had happened weeks ago—at least before yesterday—he would’ve had no problems approaching the guard and asking for help. They’d be able to advise him of the best way to get the mercenaries off his back—work with them to trap the women, at least, and point out what Demon looked like just in case he was still around town. They were relying too much on him being an ignorant, bumbling, kind-hearted farmboy. Which…given current circumstances, seemed to be about the only thing he had going for him.
He found himself standing on a quiet stretch of the road, past the livestock fences. Off in the distance, he could see the farmhouse. Jak wasn’t home yet—the windows were still closed, which was how Kasia liked to keep it. Their father was the complete opposite—he liked to air out the house even in dead winter, liked fresh air in general—which was why he moved all the way out here, away from the toxic fumes of Port Bluetree, or so he liked to say. Thinking about his father, about the things Kasia said, and Michell and everything made him feel like a damned fool, the worst son there ever was.
Tears pricked at his eyes. He wiped them away before they could fall.
He saw Ceri appear from the path that led to her father’s farm, her cloak fluttering behind her in a swirl of white mist. She spotted him just as quickly, her head darting up like a startled deer. And then—just like a startled deer—she slowly made her way towards him, almost as if she was afraid he would attack her at any moment.
“Lucky,” she finally breathed.
“Not a good afternoon for a walk,” Luc said, glancing at the fog.
Blackwood Marauders Page 6
