by Jill Cooper
“Take care of yourself. Get inside out of this damp weather.”
She only laughed, revealing several teeth missing from the top of her gums. “I’m dead weight; no one wants me.” She huddled up under her afghan shawl, frayed and thin from the years of wear. “If I died here in the street, do you think anyone here would really help me? Miss me? My time is done, child. I did my part and now I need to move on.”
It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right. I stammered, unsure what to say and the old woman took my hand.
“But thank you for your kindness and all that you’ve done. I won’t soon forget it.” Her eyes sparkled with kindness for a split second. She waved me off, her fingernails yellow and thickened with an infection.
George took me by the shoulders as we moved on, but I glanced back at her as we left. If I was so gifted, if I could read and bring joy to the people I met, why couldn’t I save women like her?
“You disagree with what I did?”
He shook his head and his face brightened. “I think you’re more wonderful than I ever knew.”
I couldn’t help a small smile. I led him along the same alleyway I had walked through only a few days ago. Clothes were strung on a line above the door ahead of us, a small metal collection pot sat by the stairs to catch the dripping rain.
“This is where they are? The forgotten that helped you before?” George asked, a tepid expression of fear on his face. Maybe he was afraid of what he’d see, what they’d be like, but he was in for a treat.
I rapped the door with my knuckles and waited a moment for someone to answer. When no one did, I knocked again, only louder. “I’ve come calling for Ralph, if anyone is home.” My voice strained, fearful that they might’ve moved on, or that something dreadful had happened to them. Just as I was about to knock again the door was pulled open. Through the small opening, I saw the smiling face of Betty.
“You came back, oh, you came back.” Tears sprang to her eyes at the sight of me and I gave her a warm greeting.
“May we come in? This time, I brought a friend.”
Betty nodded and pulled the door open all the way. Inside was warm as the fire burned bright and it smelled of burned oats. Everything was as it had been before, with old men and the women taking up spots on blankets along the wall. I greeted them kindly, but they weren’t who I was looking for.
“This is George,” I said with a flip of my hand and George waved to them meekly.
“Good day to you.” He tipped forward in greeting, the manner his dear mother had taught him, and it just made Betty smile.
She took his hands and shook them. “Hello, Sir George! Are you hungry?”
“No, Ma’am. I’m fine. Keep it for yourself. Please.”
Betty’s hands went to her hips and I knew what she would say next. I would’ve interrupted them both, but I took in the sight of the old man sitting on a crooked wooden chair in the back of the room. Grinning ear to ear, he leaned on the armrest, one leg crossed.
“Tarnish Rose came back, just as I knew she would.” Ralph squinted one eye and pointed his pipe at me.
I grinned. “You’ve acquired a new chair.”
“I found it on the side of the road. It’s broken, homeless. Just like me.” Ralph cackled with laughter.
Pulling the map from my satchel, I waggled it at him. “I need answers.”
“Then answers you should get. Let’s see where we should start.”
****
We cleared a spot on the floor and I rolled the map out. George put some pebbles from the kitchen on the corners so the paper wouldn’t snap into a cylinder. I bent over it as Ralph leaned forward in his chair—the pipe in his mouth even though no smoke came out of it—and everyone else leaned in.
“Well, it’s blank!” One of the old men sighed. “This is what I get for getting excited and out of bed for the first time in thirty days!”
Blank? “There are words. There’s a map.”
Betty shrugged with a shake of her head. “That disappointment is more bitter than the last batch of bitter chocolate we found in the dumpster. I’ll go put the pot on for some tea and I won’t take no for an answer.”
Disheartened as everyone dispersed, I glanced at George. “You see it, don’t you?”
He nodded. “I can’t make sense of it, but I see the gold writing at the top and…mountains?”
“Pathways and valleys,” Ralph said as he pointed to certain areas of the map. “This map will take you to the land of Imagination. The gateway between our land and the barrier.”
So, he could see it. “I need to get there. I need to go to Imagination. Can you tell me where to start?” I pointed to the map. “Where are we in relation to this map?”
Ralph studied it and then he leaned forward and pointed to the center valley. “The closer you get, the more dangerous it’ll be. More hunters, ministers. A collection of fortresses and temples. Dark Lord Creighton likes to pretend Imagination doesn’t exist and it’s in our best interest to ensure he doesn’t know about the map. Or how to get there.”
“How did you get your hands on this map? Where was it when you found it?”
“I stole it from the storage keeps before this happened to my body. I became old and brittle, but my mind is still sharp.” He poked his temple repeatedly with a long, sharp fingernail.
“And no one has ever come looking for it?”
“Far as I know, no one knows it was missing. Blank old parchment. Why would the Dark Lord care?” Ralph snorted with laughter.
“Why can’t they see the map if we can?” George asked, and we looked to him.
“You’re young, special. Tarnish here is chosen for this map. She’s chosen for greatness. You love her, I can tell from how you look at her…that makes you special. Them?” Ralph tossed his head toward his roommates. “We’re old. Given up. We aren’t even civilized men anymore. We’re forgotten and cast out. There’s nothing left for us to believe in except death.”
I laid my hand on Ralph’s and he smiled. “Careful, a young woman hasn’t touched me in a good many years.” He cackled in good humor thanks to his joke.
“Why can you see the map? Is it because you know? Is it because you’ve been there?”
“I’ve waited a long time to tell my story, Tarnish. I feel like it’s no longer something I should share, but the secret is too good to keep. I’m nearly eight-five years old and this secret has been with me almost as long.”
Eight-five? That was the most absurd thing I’d ever heard of. People didn’t live to be that old. “Go on.”
“My mother and father were merchants. It meant a privileged life and we traveled the road together, going place to place. Something the ministers don’t allow anymore, unless you get a special decree from the dark lord himself these days. Sometimes we crossed the barrier, and in those times, they told me bed time stories.”
Ralph leaned in close. “A chosen warrior. A curator that could read, that could wield the magic of the lost library and send the ministers and the hunters, even the Dark Lord Creighton himself, back into the abyss into which they’d crawled out of. It was they who had plunged our world into darkness, Tarnish. And they do what they must to hold onto their power.”
His words scared me and I recoiled backward. “I can’t defeat Lord Creighton.”
“You lit the map, you read the books, you’re calling is this. Maybe you don’t know yet, but I do.” Ralph gave me a big gummy grin. “First things first, you have to get to Imagination. There are those there who can help you.”
“Who?” George asked. “Rebels?”
Ralph nodded in agreement. “Rebels. Those who have kept this secret burning alive and well for hundreds of years. They’ve scattered, their numbers have dwindled, but if you get to Imagination, they can tell you the next piece of the puzzle.”
“Do they know where the library is?”
Ralph shook his head. “If they did, it wouldn’t be lost!”
I laughed at the absurdity of my
question. “You’re right. Forgive me.”
“A young beauty like you? There is nothing to forgive. But what’s your story?” Ralph eyed George up and down as though he were a criminal.
“We were to be wed,” George said. “I pledge my honor to Ab—Tarnish.”
“His mother was taken by the hunters. Cast out as a forgotten, as yourself. Before her time.”
“It’s always before our time, but I’m sorry. It’s a horrible thing to bear for a kid such as yourself. If your mother knew what you were doing, she’d be horrified. Or proud. Depends on the quality of a person’s soul. Your souls look pretty good from where I’m sitting.” Ralph sucked on the end of his pipe
“You know you’re supposed to smoke out of that thing, don’t you?” I asked.
Ralph pulled the pipe out of his mouth and looked at it. “Is that what it is? Here I thought it was nothing more than a tooth cleaner!”
We both laughed at him as Betty returned with a wooden tray filled with tea and cups. “Tea time!”
Ralph nudged me with his foot. “Roll it up, keep it hidden in your bag. Don’t speak of it again until it’s time to move. Tonight, you’ll be our cherished guests.”
“Oh no, we can’t impose,” George said. “We should get moving soon. We have a lot of ground to cover.”
Betty snorted and waved her hands at him. “Pish posh! You will do as we say for tonight. The hunters have been out in droves after dark ever since you left last, Tarnish.” The deadness in her eyes darkened my soul and I felt cold.
“They know something is up.” Ralph winked. “They know the tide is turning, bad for you. Now you have to share a sleeping quarters with us old farts.”
I glanced at George as we both picked up our small cups of tea. We clinked them together, our fates in each other’s hands; all we could do now was wait for tomorrow.
Our journey just beginning to unfold.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tarnish Rose
As we settled in for the night on our bedsheets and pillows, Betty turned to us, her hands damp from rinsing the tea cups after our small dinner. “Food supplies are shortening, I see it every week when the new rations come out. Even the rich hoard the vegetables that have rotted. Famine is coming to Effletown and when it hits, it won’t be pretty.”
“We haven’t experienced anything like that in Rottenwood,” George said.
I thought about the food rations and how Margret received none. It was starting, wasn’t it?
“A big town, one of the richest,” Ralph said from his place still at the table. “It’ll be the last to fall.”
“Fall?” I asked, lifting my tired head off the pillow.
“Don’t worry about it, not tonight. It’ll keep until morning,” Ralph said.
I wanted to ask him about it, I wanted to know more about what he meant, but my eyes were tired and slowly I drifted away. George’s warm body next to mine lulled me to sleep and I stretched out for him, my hand curling up on his chest. When his hand covered mine with a gentle squeeze, I smiled, my blurry eyes focusing on him for a moment.
He had gotten more than he bargained for. Would he be glad for it?
I didn’t want to force him into anything he wasn’t ready for, but here we were. Here we were…. Sleep took me and, undisturbed, I slumbered in a dreamless state. As the hours ticked by, I was barely aware of my breathing when suddenly someone let out a blood piercing scream and I was awake, gazing up at the ceiling.
Beside me, George stirred, and I heard the thump of a cane. Ralph must not have slept because he was on his way to the door. I opened my mouth to speak and a knock rang out against the door. Ralph waved me off with his hand, and I lay back down, pulling the sheet up to my nose, my heart thumping wildly.
What was it Ralph had told me before? No one ever visited a forgotten, not even a hunter or a minster. If someone had come now…. George and I locked eyes. How numbered were our days? Had they ticked down into minutes so quickly?
“Can I help you, sir?” Ralph asked, coughing wildly into his fist. “Forgive me, but I think I’m coming down with a plague! Have no fear, it’s only contagious ninety-five percent of the time!”
“Forgotten, bite your tongue and mind your manners. I’m an officer of the minister’s office! From City Affairs.”
The minister? He was here and we might get caught. Panic gripped me and it was hard to breathe.
“Forgive me,” Ralph said meekly, humbly, and bowed at the waist. “What can I do for you, officer of the minister, at this unworkable hour?”
“Have you heard of any strangers in the area? Anyone looking suspicious.”
“No, sir. We keep to ourselves, struggle to get by day by day.”
“Pity you don’t lay down and die, forgotten one. If you see something, turn them in. There would be a day-old bread in it for you, straight from the minister himself.”
“Oh, officer, thank you! Thank you! We’d be humbled to eat anything that had touched the ministers hand. If we hear anything, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Good evening, then.”
With the officer gone, Ralph slammed the door shut and mumbled while I counted my lucky stars nothing bad happened.
“Disgusting little man with beady little eyes, I’ll show him where he can shove that loaf of bread! I tell you, it wouldn’t fit up there either!”
“Stop it, Ralph,” Betty chastised him. “What if he hears you. Go to bed, for Pete’s sake!”
“I don’t know no men named Pete,” Ralph waggled his finger at her. “Even if I did, I’m sure I wouldn’t care about his sake, one way or the other!” He stood by my bedding and crouched down, his knees cracking. “I only care about you.”
I sat up, pushing the covers off of me. It wasn’t safe for us there any longer. “Thanks for everything that you’ve done.”
“Get out of Effletown as fast as you can. Avoid city streets and populated areas. If you must, blend in.”
“I’ll get you a bag. Some food,” Betty said.
“No, you’ve done enough.” I rose up from the bed and left George to tidy up after us. “Just do me a favor. There’s an old woman out there on the step. I worry she has nowhere to sleep and nothing to eat. Take her in, if you can spare any kindness.”
Betty gripped my hands. “For you, I will do whatever you wish.”
George shook hands with everyone and we peered outside. He put his arm around my shoulder as we made sure the coast was clear. We headed for the train station to catch the next freight train straight toward Beantown and hopefully a step closer to the Imagination caves of excellence.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Minister of City Affairs
“It’s late, Minister,” Robert Taylor said as he stood in his pajamas. “Can’t this wait until morning?”
The minister of city affairs placed his cane in the doorway so Robert couldn’t close the door on him. He walked inside with a limp and gazed around. “It can’t wait, Mr. Taylor. Questions have been coming up in my office about your family. Where was it you said your daughter was?”
“I sent her to Barnstable on an errand. We’re low on black tea. It’s popular in town.”
That it might be, but the minister didn’t believe Robert, the man’s voice betrayed him. “That was two days ago. Why isn’t she back yet?” He approached the cove where he knew Abby slept. He poked the curtain back with his cane and peered to the side to gaze beneath it.
“She may have been delayed. Sometimes the trains don’t run on schedule the way they’re supposed to. Old machines, you know how it is, minister.”
“Indeed, I do,” the minister whispered and as he stepped into Abby’s sleeping quarters, Sandra pushed her way through the curtain.
“Minister! I was just making Abby’s bed for when she arrives home. Would you like to see it?”
The minister’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, I would.”
“Of course.” Sandra laughed far too nervously and peeled the curtain back.
“As you can see, just a teen girl’s bedroom.”
“I’ll be the judge of that, Mrs. Taylor.” The minister looked under the mattress, beneath the blankets and in every drawer, spilling the contents onto the floor. He sifted through rocks, clothes and hairpins in varying size, but there was no evidence of anything going on that would get the Taylors, or their wayward daughter, in trouble.
“Everything in order then?” Robert asked.
The minister turned to face them, spinning his cane in his hand. With a hearty bang, he slammed it down onto the stone tile floor. “Not even a hair out of place. I do beg your pardon,” he raised his top hat in apology, “for the mess I made.”
“It’s no trouble,” Sandra said as she folded her hands together, “I’ll have it cleaned up in a jiff.”
“Shame about Margret though,” the minister entered the shop again and studied at how Robert stared at him.
Margret? The girl they had eaten breakfast with a few days past?
“Margret? Abby’s friend?” Robert asked and chased after him. “What do you—”
“She thought she saw Abby sneaking away the other night, ‘course maybe she just told us that because she was caught stealing an extra bag of bread. Claimed her family was hungry. Stealing and lying to a minister is a capital offense, as you know.”
Robert stuttered and stepped forward to speak, but when Sandra stepped out of the bedroom he glanced at her, and slammed his jaw shut. “As I do, minister.”
“She’s just a child,” Sandra said, “surely you can make an allowance for a hungry child. We’ve all gone hungry time to time—sometimes it makes you do bold things, minister.”
The minister smiled. “Make an allowance for one and our system falls apart. There must be order and discipline. Please impart that on Abbigail when she returns home. If she’s not back in two days’ time, I’ll be back. And this time, I won’t be alone, Mr. Taylor.” He tipped his hat to the parents to bid them good-day and strolled out of the shop.
They knew more than they’d said, that was clear. The minister wasn’t prepared to give up on them yet and was sure they’d still be useful, one way or another.
