Colorless

by Rita Stradling

  Nodding slowly, Sophie continued to rock. “They did, once. What did they do when they were among the humans for these prolonged periods of time?”

  “I can’t say I know,” I said.

  “You’ve never heard stories about any of the times that Nirsha and Sun lived among the humans? Never heard of how they had and raised their children?”

  “No, but I’ve always assumed that calling someone a ‘child’ of a certain god was more of an expression referring to their temperament. You’d say Nirsha’s child for a bad temperament, Sun for an easy one, and so on. Also, for Sun, of course, it’s said for plants and wildlife.”

  “True, true. I’ve never heard stories of the gods living among us either, nor of the children they had—always found that strange. Also, is it not odd that they do not visit us still? None of them do, not even on their solstices and equinoxes.” She rocked slowly, keeping her questioning gaze on me.

  “Perhaps they never did.”

  “Ah, but they did,” she said with a small grin creasing up the wrinkles of her eyes and cheeks.

  “How would we ever truly know?” I asked.

  Her dark eyes lit with some intense understanding I could not fathom. “Because you exist, girl. I know they had children, because you exist.”

  “Are you saying that this…” I gestured to myself, “is from some familial relation to the gods?”

  “One of them.”

  “You mean Nirsha?”

  It was the only god I could correlate with my malady.

  “Can you think of another explanation for the great power you’ve gained?”

  “Great power?” I laughed mirthlessly, raising up my gloved hands. “I’m cursed—the only power I have is to destroy possessions… things, objects. It’s of no use to me or anyone else.”

  “But it is a godly power—and a great one at that.” Her feet came down, stopping the rocking once more. “Annabelle girl, why do you think that your ability terrifies the magicians so deeply that they would stop at nothing to find and destroy you?”

  “I couldn’t say.”

  “Then use your mind, girl. I was under the impression that you had one,” she practically growled.

  “The magicians don’t want their… possessions destroyed?” I asked slowly. Before I said it, the idea had seemed ridiculous, but once it fell from my lips, it didn’t sound ridiculous at all.

  “I doubt they do. That, among other reasons.”

  “But by that thinking, the gods and the magicians are at odds? Is that possible?”

  “As I said, all sums do not add up so easily, child.”

  I took another step toward her. “Are there books on this, histories I might gain access to? If I could understand how I came by this, perhaps I could undo it.”

  “Undo it?”

  “The disappearing finger, the loss of color—you said it was possible to fix.”

  “It’s possible—but not in the way you think and going that route might lead to much worse.”

  “I understand—if you will not tell me how I can heal myself, please will you just tell me if there are books or some store of information out there that would have information on iconoclasts?”

  “I can’t say I know.” She examined me closely. “However, how would the magicians and monks know of the iconoclasts, if they cannot remember you?”

  “From records.” I nodded. “Where? Please tell me where.”

  “I will not. Cruel as it may sound to you, I am not sure I want you to succeed. It would be no good fortune for me and mine if you did.” Her toes pointed, chair rocked, and she returned to her lacework on her lap. “I have helped you enough, iconoclast—too much.” Rocking slowly, she said nothing more.

  The curtain whispered across the windowsill and Sophie’s chair let out a soft creaking. Otherwise, the house was silent. In the time we spoke, the ray of light had shifted, now casting its light on a circle of floor.

  “Sophie?” I reached toward her hand on the armrest, but stopped with my fingers hovering just above her thin and splotchy skin. Standing straight, I whispered, “Thank you for helping me, even with your reservations.”

  Sophie didn’t respond, and I almost thought she might have fallen asleep, though her eyes were open. She blinked, but did not seem to wake.

  I crouched down so we’d be eye to eye. “I’ll take my leave of you then.”

  When she still seemed to sleep, I backed away. Turning, I left the dark hovel, walked out into the daylight, and straight into Joseph.

  13

  Joseph’s Proposal

  Annabelle

  “Where are you going?” Joseph asked, towering over me in a way that blocked out the daylight, though I was a couple of steps past the door. He glared down at me as if I’d been running off to the monks to report him.

  “Where would I go that would offend you so much?” I asked as I glowered up into his big blue eyes. My impression of him in the near dark last night had been that he was a real bruiser of a young man, the type of worker my mother’s jaw would always clench around. In the light, I’d say he was even more so. He was the sort seen walking alongside merchants when they’d deliver their take to the bank. He looked almost as though his flesh stretched over bricks rather than anything soft. But for all that, his handsome features were eerily similar to that of his brothers.

  He thought on my question a little, perhaps hoping to find a way to be offended. “If they catch you, I hope you will not reveal us out of spite,” he growled.

  I stood up straight and frowned all the harder. “I would not. Furthermore, they can’t see nor hear me. I could shout it perched on top of an arcamagyk and they would never know.”

  “But some people obviously see and hear you. You could reveal us to them,” he said.

  “I will not. You have my word. Please do not do me the dishonor of questioning my word,” I preempted. I didn’t think I could stomach that, not after the past few days. I had so little left to me, and my word as a Klein had once been worth more than silver.

  His glare softened, the tension around his eyes and mouth loosening. “I had a profound respect for your father. Regardless of his birth, he was a good man. While I didn’t consider him a friend as my brother did, I still find the world a colder place without him in it.”

  “As do I. I thank you for your kind words,” I managed to say, though my throat dried. “I appreciate your family’s hospitality, even if you’d have preferred it not be afforded to me. If you don’t mind, I’ll take my leave now.” I gestured past him.

  While I didn’t want to be rude and provoke him into turning into the beast from last night, I needed to find the histories Sophie had hinted at, and urgently.

  “I have… words to say to you,” he muttered, his brow creasing.

  “That may be, but anyone on the street sees you speaking to only yourself.” I tried to peek around him, but saw no one outside near the cluttered dirt road.

  “It’s high noon. The young and feeble are hiding from the heat, and everyone else is working. This isn’t the type of place you’re used to where people take pride in being of leisure,” he bit out. “If you’d just step back inside, I only want a few minutes of your time.”

  I didn’t want to give him a few minutes; I wanted to run somewhere else, anywhere else. However, with the way he was blocking my path, it seemed more prudent to let him in, so that I could make my way out. And though I didn’t quite trust the old woman, I had the feeling that there was a certain amount of safety in having Sophie present.

  Nodding, I backed into the shack, keeping my gaze on Joseph as I did.

  “I’m not trying to scare you.” As he followed, the scowl on his face grew to consume his features. “You can turn your back to me. I will not attack you.”

  “I am neither scared nor attempting to offend you. I am merely cautious. You made quite a show of intimidation last night.”

  “Before you collapsed, grew entirely helpless, and were afforded a bed and safety
for the night,” he muttered darkly.

  “I thank you for that.”

  “Thanking me is just fine, but you won’t trust my word as I’m supposed to trust yours. I told you I won’t attack you. Just because I’m common doesn’t mean that my word isn’t worth something, just as your rank doesn’t mean that your word is worth more than mine.”

  “I suppose you’re right. We’ll have to prove to one another that our word is true. I should like to believe that you will not harm me,” I said as I retreated toward Sophie, who had not looked up or spoken.

  After closing the front door, Joseph stopped and leaned against the wall. The wall protested, squeaking and seeming to shift a little with his weight. His bright gaze found mine, seeming less like he was examining me and more as if he were tracking me like a hunter.

  I made my posture even straighter under his inspection. “Furthermore, Joseph, I have no rank, not anymore. As of now, I have less than the poorest commoner.” I stopped beside Sophie’s rocker, watching Joseph, who was still blocking the door.

  “She doesn’t know we’re here.” He nodded to Sophie beside me. “I don’t know how old she is, but she’s much older than she looks.”

  I glanced down at the elderly woman, wondering how that could be possible. I’d have put her age at nearly ninety.

  “More and more, she’s gone somewhere else in her mind. We’re lucky to have her for an hour or two these days,” he said.

  “Your grandmother spoke to me this morning, at length,” I said.

  “Yes, she’s been active in the last night, probably too active.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a scrap of coarse material tied together into a small purse. Looking down at it, he pondered slowly, “It’s odd—this whole matter with you. It’s not like her to invite trouble into our lives. She’s more apt to handle our troubles quietly in the night, whether we want her to or not.”

  I glanced at the old woman. Even with her age, I could believe his ominous words. “I see,” I said.

  “It makes me a little curious about you, I suppose. Is my brother in love with you? Have you had some sort of affair with Dylan?”

  I looked up at Joseph sharply. “Are you mad?”

  His glare only intensified. “Does that disgust you? Too high and mighty to even consider him because of some invisible barrier that makes you better than us?”

  “You must be mad.” I pointed my elbow at him. “My parents were murdered in the night. In the months since then, I’ve been living with cursed skin. Do you think I had any concern for affairs of the heart? Would you have? Everything I touch turns to ash—my home, clothes, food, the last remnants of my parents. I’ve been living a colorless, flavorless existence that’s grown only direr since being hunted by the Congregation—whatever their motive.”

  Obviously unmoved by my venom, he tossed the purse in the air and caught it with a loud clanking. “John mentioned to me what happened when you touched the bed. How come it didn’t happen when you picked up the paper last night?”

  I lifted my uninjured hand. “It has to be direct contact with my skin. My gloves protected the paper.”

  He made a grunt that sounded like acknowledgement. Keeping his gaze on me, he opened the purse, poured several coins into his hand, and then tipped one back in. Pocketing the coins left in his palm, he retied the purse and held it out to me. “Touch this for me, then?”

  “I am no player for your entertainment. But…” I pointed into the air. “I will do this for you, if after I do, you promise to move out of my path and do nothing to prevent me leaving.”

  He nodded slowly. “It’s a deal, Lady Klein.”

  Turning from him, I used my still-intact thumb and pointer finger to peel off my glove before spinning around to him. I let out a slow breath of relief, finding he hadn’t moved closer in the time I’d turned away.

  His hand with the purse lifted. “Take it.”

  Instead of taking it, I tapped it with my bare finger and stepped back.

  Immediately, the purse began to sweat off its dull browns and blues.

  “Damn it!” Joseph dropped the purse like it was on fire. He flicked the remaining color off his fingers.

  There was little enough color to shed before the purse was ashen and the droplets of color had sunk through the floorboards.

  Joseph glared at his hand and then me. “Pick it up.”

  “Are you afraid?” I pulled my glove on. I was not quite able to contain my smirk as he gaped down at the little ashen purse.

  “It’s unnatural.”

  “It’s what you wanted. I need to leave now—it’s time to show me the worth of a commoner’s word,” I said. A moment after I said it, I was internally slapping my forehead. I shouldn’t be trying to infuriate such a volatile boy. Well, he was more of a man than a boy, looking to be perhaps twenty in the light of day.

  He leaned over toward the purse. “Wait, just one moment. I’m not blocking your way, just asking for you to linger another second.”

  “I must apologize, but I have urgent business elsewhere.”

  “So, then, you’re not actually that thankful,” he growled.

  I clenched my fist. “For what exactly?”

  “For the hospitality. You said you were thankful, and now you can’t afford me five minutes of your time?”

  I leaned in toward him. “If it had been up to you, I’d have been turned over to my death. I’m grateful, but I owe you nothing but grief, Joseph.”

  He reached for the bag, hesitated a second, and then grabbed it up. After peering in amazement and rubbing his fingers over it, he turned to me. A somewhat-bewildered expression played across his face; it quickly dropped away. “You owe me a little. I could have carried you up and tossed you into the street.”

  I glared. “I detest violence, but I abhor bullying even more. I will not be browbeaten by your manipulative words or by your… girth. You forget I grew up in the lowest rank among the peerage. If you will not stand by your word, then I will fight my way out if need be.”

  “All right, then.” He stepped aside. “I am good for my word.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  As I walked toward him, he untied the bag and dropped a gleaming steel coin into his hand. “Remarkable,” he whispered. “Dylan told John that the things you touch are forgotten as well.” He held up the coin. “Does this mean that this coin will be forgotten?” he asked.

  “No, only the purse,” I said as I passed him. “Good day to you.” With a dignified nod, I walked once more into the daylight.

  The street was transformed in the light, and not to its betterment. But more than anything, the smell was altered. Last night, it had been unpleasant; this morning, it was practically unbearable. My nose ached and my eyes watered. Though I knew it was unforgivably rude to the tenants of the street, I covered my nose as I pressed forward.

  A second later, the door opened and slammed shut behind me. There was a shuffling sound, and then Joseph fell into step beside me.

  “So, if you vanished a purse, the purse’s owner would know there was gold still there out of sight?” he asked.

  “I cannot say that I know the answer to that,” I said as I accelerated my footsteps, walking in the direction I remembered from last night.

  Heat rose in waves off the road. Judging from the position of the sun directly above me, heating my exposed skin, it was likely noon. I’d give almost anything for a parasol, though the thought was ridiculous as I had absolutely nothing to give. Likely due to the heat, the street was deserted but for dust and a bedraggled man huddling into a bit of shade. A few heads peeked out from behind heavy curtains, though quickly ducked away.

  All around us, the houses cluttered together. The night had been kind to their façades, most of which looked to be peeling forward over the street. Several of the buildings had no doors at all, closed off by hole-riddled swaths of material.

  At the first fork in the road, I turned the direction I thought we had come the night be
fore. The spires of the Templum of Weire pierced into the air just a little to the street’s right.

  “You going for a swim in the river? This dead-ends with no crossing,” Joseph said in a low voice.

  “No—I…” I spun around, looking from unfamiliar street to unfamiliar street. One of the roads looked perhaps recognizable. There was a leaning pole that I thought I’d seen. “I’m going this way.” I strode forward.

  “You going to someone’s house in the neighborhood? This also takes three turns before ending at the river.” He pointed. “Just beyond that bend.” His hands fell, digging deep into his pockets.

  “Well, then.” I turned to face him. “If you’d be so kind, please direct me to the Congregational Library.”

  His thick white-blond brows rose. “So, you are going to turn yourself in, then?”

  “No. I’m not turning myself in, but I’m not going to sit around waiting to die, either—if you will not direct me, then please leave me in peace. Your presence is galling and tiresome,” I said.

  Between the blazing sun, the horrendous smell, his unwelcome presence, and the fact I was literally disappearing, this situation didn’t seem like it could deteriorate any more.

  He glared. “Are you talking to me this way because I’m common?”

  I pointed into his face. “Ugh!” I screamed, and then I continued walking straight up the middle of the street.

  Joseph caught up to me a few houses down.

  “Go away,” I snapped.

  “In a moment. But first, I have a proposal for you,” he said.

  “I respectfully decline; I’m already engaged to be married to one horse’s ass,” I grumbled as I stomped up the street.

  “You are truly different from your father. He’d never be so callous as to mock a man who was degrading himself while asking for help.”

  I slowed, his comment so horribly close to Sophie’s recent accusation that I took after my wild and hot-tempered mother rather than my rational and steady father. Spinning around, I looked up into Joseph’s wide features to see sweat dripping liberally from his chin and down his neck. “If you’re asking for my help, you are doing a poor job of it,” I said.