by Jill Cooper
“Goodbye, Father,” Sebastian mumbled and then took leave. He raced up the stairs and as he stood on the metal scaffolding, he heard his name.
“Sebastian!”
His name coming from the sweet sound of Penny’s voice. With one foot on the stair in front of him, Sebastian turned to see Penny running toward him. She held the hem of her brown dress off the ground, her cheeks flushed with excitement and joy. “Is it true? Did you find her?”
She covered her mouth to stifle a laugh and his heart rose with a joy that mirrored hers. “It’s true. The curator has emerged, just as our people promised she would, but she doesn’t know it. I have to find her before the ministers discover her.”
Penny nodded and kissed both his cheeks. “God speed, Sebastian. I hope you’re able to find her. Do you know her name?”
Sebastian spoke quick and excited. “She calls herself Tarnish Rose—if that’s her real name. I doubt it, otherwise the hunters would’ve cast her into the stockades by now.”
“She should be so lucky,” Penny muttered. “Bring her here and we will teach her everything we know. Be careful, Sebastian. Civilized people can be weird. They don’t understand that the ministers are there to harm them, to control them. If they suspect you as a rebel, they’ll turn on you.”
Something he knew only too well. “I’ll be careful. With luck, I’ll find Tarnish Rose and be back here in a matter of days.”
“And with her help, we can restore the world.” Penny smiled. “Color, magic, the end of all of this could be within reach.”
It was too much to hope for.
Sebastian hurried along the corridors and his oldest friend, Jacob, raced to catch up. “Did you tell him?”
About the tower he had seen rise in the east? “He wasn’t ready to hear.”
Jacob sighed and chastised him. “He has to know, Sebastian! He can’t prepare if he doesn’t know. We must prepare our people for the coming war between the Temptress and Creighton. Things have gone from bad to worse and you didn’t tell him!”
“He is hanging on by a thread, Jacob.” Sebastian stepped into a small alcove and motioned his friend to follow. “His courage, his drive…it’s gone. It’ll be up to you to prepare everyone…just don’t allow panic to set in. Do you promise?”
“I promise.” They shook hands with a death grip. “What of the curator? Will you tell her about the Temptress?”
Sebastian sighed and thought it over, peering into the dark shadows behind him as though that alone would reveal the answer. “I will tell her what she needs to know to win. Anything else, might scare her too much.”
Jacob’s eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second. Maybe he questioned Sebastian’s answer. It was, however, the only choice Sebastian could make. “May you find the curator before the Temptress finds a way to cross the barrier.”
They parted ways. And with that, Sebastian sprinted for the exit with little time to lose.
Chapter Ten
Tarnish Rose
I tossed and turned all night, and when morning came, it was a reprieve. I dressed quietly in my merchant clothes, tucked my dark hair back with simple bobby pins, and slipped my merchant’s ID tag around my neck. I slipped my contacts into my eyes, ready for the day.
With a growing dread in my stomach, I checked beneath my floor boards. Maybe the paper would be blank again, maybe I had dreamt up what had happened. Maybe….
As I unrolled the paper, I saw the hint of gold markings and my heart sank, my eyes skipping across the parchment to see the words were as I’d read them the night before. Sighing, I rolled it up and stuffed it down deep into the crevice beneath the wooden floors. I didn’t want to be caught with it, and more importantly, I didn’t want to think about what it said.
I crept through the shop to start a fresh pot of pressed coffee for Poppa. It wasn’t something I normally did, but I wanted to make amends for how we fought. Not used to fighting with him, the argument left my stomach sour. I grabbed the canvas ration bags from beneath the counter and picked up the note beside it that listed our status as merchants. On it was the seal of the minister’s house, meaning we were top tier.
Meaning we got a better and more abundant supply of food than others. It was something to be proud and ashamed of, all at the same time.
With everything gathered up, I raised the window shade on the front door. It was still so early that fog and dew still clung to the windows. The sky was black with a swirl of grey as the morning sun tried to make its usual muted appearance beyond the ever-present clouds. As I opened the door, I shivered from the blast of cold air. Then I was on my way in the opposite direction from the distribution center of downtown. I headed uptown toward George’s home.
It was a bad idea and went against everything Poppa had said, but if I didn’t check on George, my heart would never forgive me. I doubted I’d get anything else done until I saw him.
With my ration notice tucked in my pocket, I climbed up the outer wall of his home, slipping my feet in cracks between the bricks. It was something I had been doing since a child, and I knew exactly where to stick my boot, without even looking.
On the small flat roof that peered up into the second story crawl space, I knelt by the window covered in a heavy black drapery and knocked gently three times. I bit my lip and waited patiently, gazing furtively around to make sure no one else was around. When the curtain drew back, I was relieved more than anxious.
George opened the window; he was dressed as if he hadn’t slept the night before. His eyes were tired and from the sadness in them, I doubted I’d be able to reach. But he offered me the slow spread of a smile. He climbed out of his window and we shared a forbidden embrace.
I wrapped my arms tight around his waist and buried my head against his chest. “Oh, George. I’m so sorry. I wanted to come sooner. I wanted to stay with you.”
He stroked my hair and said little, but I listened to his breathing, my ear pressed against him, hoping there was comfort with us being together.
When I peered up at him, I was disheartened. He stared off in the distance as if he saw nothing. “Is there anything I can say? Anything I can do?” I asked softly.
George shook his head as we separated. He took my hand and led me around the corner. We jumped down to an old fire escape platform—the ladder long decayed and fallen off—and we sat side by side, our fingers intertwined and our legs straight out. I rested my head onto his shoulder.
We had a view of the fences that kept us blocked from the local neighbors, but in the distance, three hunters circled above the minister’s tower. The sight of the dark creatures cast everything in despair and my stomach rolled.
“My mother is that way,” George jerked his head toward the tower. “Rumor is they send the forgotten to the stockades for a few nights first. Break them in and get them ready for their life of solitude. If you can call what they do living.”
I bit my lip and didn’t know what to say—so I said nothing. I hoped lending him my ear would give him some comfort.
“Rumor also says there’s a secret passage beneath Rottenwood in the old city, centuries of years old. It might not be safe, but it can get you into the stockade, past the minister’s home without being seen by the hunters.”
“What are you saying?” I lifted my head off his shoulder. “You want to break her out? Of the stockade?”
“I’ve thought about it. I’ve been thinking about it all night.” George tensed noticeably. It was a sensitive subject—he was emotional—but I couldn’t let him think he could break his mother out of the stockade and live to see another day.
“And if you manage to escape, you’ll go where? You won’t be able to stay here. We won’t be able to be married.”
“We cross the barrier, we find a city on the other side. I know it wouldn’t be ideal and that life would be hard.”
Had he lost his mind? “Into the Unforgiving Lands, where the barbarians live?” Anger and anxiety built rapidly in the center of my chest and
my heart sped out of control. George couldn’t be serious, could he?
“What would you have me do then? Nothing? Forget her, just as my Poppa and the minister demand?”
I wanted to scream ‘Yes.’ I wanted him to forget his plan to rescue his mother, so he’d be safe, so we’d both be safe, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I bent my head and couldn’t look at him.
“I know you wouldn’t forget your parents. It’d kill you just as this is killing me,” George said. “I can’t let this happen to her, Abby.”
“There are no laws in the Unforgiving Lands, George. No rulers. Anarchy and wild animals. There are rumors that further, beyond the expanse, ferocious beasts live. Trolls and ogres that were once human who have been reduced to absolute monsters. I don’t want that for you or your mother.”
“And then you’d have me do what?” George’s eyes narrowed, and anger practically fumed straight out his ears.
“I don’t know,” I said meekly. I couldn’t tell him to forget his mother, but he needed to. We all did if we wanted to keep on living.
“You’re afraid, as you should be, Abby. We all should, but it’s no way to live. The forgotten…how will I know if she has enough to eat? What if they treat her badly? What if…”
“They won’t,” I rushed on, trying to find the words to feel better, “they’ll treat her as family and become a little commune. Sure, they have to scrounge for food, but they have beds and a tiny living space…they do have something.”
“How do you know all that?” George pulled his knees under his chin. “You’re lying to make me feel better.”
“It’s true. I…” I swallowed hard and gazed around, “I met some in Iffletown. They were nice, they treated me well. I know I shouldn’t have talked to them…”
“They’re people, just as we are.” George touched my fingers. “You are full of surprises.”
“You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“Just as you won’t tell anyone about my stupid plan?”
Did that mean he was going to give it up? I hoped so.
“I’ve been preparing,” George said. He put his hand under his shirt and I wondered what he was doing, but then he pulled out a blade—a knife he had sharpened. “It might not kill a hunter, but it might kill a minister.”
My eyes widened. What he was suggesting…. “You didn’t do that last night. George, what’s going on?”
“There are rumors of rebels, Abby,” George whispered. “People who resist Creighton and the ministers. People who gather to discuss the world sometimes talk about it. I was afraid, but, maybe it’s time I join them. Maybe we could join them together.”
I shook my head. “George, please, to do so would be suicide. Please promise me you won’t. Please.”
George sighed and gazed far away. I think my answer disappointed him and I was sorry, but I didn’t want to risk losing him. “I thought you’d support me. You’re the one who travels to other places. I thought you’d understand.”
I rested my head on his shoulder as an apology. I wasn’t sure he would welcome it, but he put his arm around me and held me close. We gazed out as the sun continued rising and I hoped the warmth of the love we shared would be enough to convince George not to try anything stupid.
It was all I had.
****
We parted ways before his father would be up and it left me uneasy and afraid. People were already gathered on the street for the slow procession toward the distribution center and I joined them. With an inward sigh, I fell behind a couple and slowed my speed to match. Already the line was forming further up the hill.
I was going to be waiting all day at this rate.
“Abby!” The call came from the side and a young woman raced toward me. She wore a black cloak—similar to the one I hid in my room—and it was buttoned up tight under her chin, hiding her petite frame from the world.
“Margret.” I smiled as she stopped beside me. She hooked her arm through mine and we continued our walk. She was a little taller than me and her complexion was pale. I dared to say Margret and I are friends in a world where friendship was forbidden, and relationships existed only for work and procreation.
“I didn’t think you’d ever return from your trip,” she said with a joyful laugh and an infectious smile.
“It was only three days. I had to get some supplies. I got them real cheap, too.”
“That’s great. While you were gone, I made bars of soap,” Margret said proudly.
“That’s great. Your parents must be excited.”
Margret nodded. “In two years when I’m wed, I’ll be taking our family tradition of soap making to Everfolk and settling down.”
And having babies, being responsible. I felt the weight of her words even if she didn’t, though, from her disheartened expression I thought she might. “This is the only home I’ve ever known but they say once I’m married, I have to move on and spread our good fortune,” Margret said.
“I’ll visit you. I promise.”
Margret sighed and gazed off wistfully. “The ministers won’t like that. We’re not supposed to keep attachments to where we’ve come from.”
I touched her hand and squeezed gently , aware that her wrist was so much thinner than my own. “I’m a merchant’s daughter. I come and go as I please.”
People stood single file as we approached the distribution center and we fell in line. “Soon,” Margret went on, “you’ll be the wife of a merchant. You won’t be able to come and go as you wish much longer.”
My lips twisted in a frown. “George and I have an understanding.”
“Ahh, yes. I’ve seen that ‘understanding’ in your eyes for years.” She laughed. “Oh, what? You think the twinkle in your eye was hidden? I’m happy for you, and for George. My future husband can barely get out of his own way when the path is clear of thistle and people.”
I pouted slightly for her. The line moved a bit and I stepped forward. “Did you hear?” I whispered. “About last night?”
Margret leaned forward—her eyes shifting left and right—and whispered. “The ministers were by late last night. We’re not even supposed to be talking about it.”
“I know.” I sighed.
“How’s George?”
“Not well.” I thought about his plan and his knife. I shivered.
“Life sure is complicated,” Margret said. “I’m sure his head will clear by the wedding. Six months is a long time around here. Crawls pretty slow when you’re the daughter of a soap maker.”
“I’m sorry,” I said with a scrunch of my nose.
“Sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for. I just wish this line would move faster. The cupboard is bare this month, so bare. I’m so hungry, I feel like soon my stomach is going to eat itself.”
I felt such shame that we had so much to eat when my friend had so little. “I wish I brought something for you.”
“There’s no need. It isn’t you fault, Abby.”
Even so…I could see how thin she was beneath her robe, how small her wrists were, barely thicker than bones. “Still, tonight you come for dinner. I’ll make sure we treat you well…like family.”
“Abby…” Margret sighed. “Your parents don’t need another mouth to feed.”
“No, but I need a friend. You can help me stock the shelves or something. It’ll be fine.”
Margret’s eyebrows rose as though she didn’t know if it would in fact be fine, but I was sure it would be.
The line progressed little by little and mist fell from the clouds. Up ahead, we were approaching the first checkpoint and an officer of the minister stood there, checking ID tags. Within a few minutes, he made his way to us, first checking Margret’s and then mine.
“Merchant here with the seal,” he said over his shoulder. He turned his attention back to me. “This way.”
My stomach dropped with dread and I felt Margret’s arm tighten around mine. “But why? Won’t I get any food?” She asked.
“I’m sorry,” I mouthed to her.
The officer kept his hand on my shoulder and kept me moving forward. “Slim pickings for the regular folk this week. Next time, try to get here earlier.”
Shame washed over me to be treated special while so many went without. “Will there be enough for everyone?”
“That’s neither of our concern. Keep moving.”
He pushed me past the rope where so many women stood, some with crying babies on their hips. Their eyes convicted me of crimes I hadn’t committed but I felt guilty. Some glared at me while others couldn’t be bothered to look as the officer handed a piece of paper to the officer at the front.
“Merchant’s daughter. She carries the seal of City Affairs.”
I shrank back, my shoulders rounding as I felt the look of a hundred hungry mothers and wives gawking at me. The system wasn’t right. It was wrong in so many ways, but when they asked me for my bags, I gave it to them.
“You’ll be among the first and get first call on anything you want. Only the freshest for the family of a merchant.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. Tears sprung to my eyes and I moved to hide them. The tears weren’t just for the hungry but for me. How selfish was I to never have seen everyone’s plight before now?
I couldn’t do anything about it, but my mind shifted back to my hidden sleeping cove and the paper beneath the slats. These people needed help and they needed a hero. What a silly dreamer was I to think that I could do anything but take my rations and go home.
****
I didn’t see Margret on my way out. Ashamed of myself and my bags bursting at the seams with vegetables, grains, and fruits—even a slab of salted meat—I escaped out the back , avoiding everyone’s eyes.
I went through the city square, walking past the old stone fountain that no longer flowed with water. Its basin was cracked and beside it was an old rickety bench. Someone stood upon it and addressed the crowd, but the hood from his robe obscured his face.
