by Alex Quill
They toweled off and Synago paid special attention to Mellie’s mud soaked boots. On the way to their room Synago deposited the towels into a nearby rolling laundry cart. They climbed the old, creaking staircase to the dormitories. However, when they reached the top stair and headed towards their room a noise stopped Synago. Someone was crying nearby.
She followed the sound to a door on their right, and realized it was coming from Yolanda’s room. The sliding door was ajar a few inches, clearly closed in haste, and Synago could see inside. On the edge of the bed sat Yolanda, sobbing with her face in her hands.
Synago chewed on her lower lip, her mind torn into two. Should she stay or should she go? Part of her wanted to comfort Yolanda and find out what was wrong. Another, smaller part of her wanted to ignore this whole thing and just focus on her problem with Mellie. Before she could decide what to do, Mellie slid open the door so forcefully it smacked against the wall. She barged into Yolanda’s room and picked her up in a tight, squeezing hug.
“Mellie, no! What are you doing!” shouted Synago. Mellie paused and put Yolanda down.
“Sorry, she… well, we saw you crying and… are you okay? Did she hurt you?” said Synago with a sigh, giving up halfway through her apology. She buried her face in her hands. This day was not going well. To her surprise, Yolanda started to laugh.
“It’s quite all right, girls. Thank you for the hug Mellie. I’m just upset because… because Roland’s been drafted. And I don’t know… Don’t know what to do!” her small smile at Mellie’s theatrics faltered and she burst into tears. Mellie sat down on the small bed next to Yolanda and patted her back. At six feet tall, Mellie dwarfed everything in the Yukan sized room. Even Synago felt like a giant. She stood awkwardly in the doorway. She’d crossed halfway over the threshold to try and stop Mellie but cut herself short out of politeness. This was her boss after all, even if she was a sobbing mess at the moment.
“May I come in?” she asked.
Yolanda nodded through her tears and pulled out a kerchief from the pocket of her dress. As she blew her nose into it Synago sat down on her other side. She looked around the room.
On the far wall was a rolling cart, the same ones they used to bring food to guests downstairs. There was a plain porcelain tea set on the top tray, and Yolanda’s belongings on the second two trays below. In the corner of the room was the smallest kitchen Synago had ever seen. A miniature faucet and sink, a heating element, and one small cupboard were all set into the plaster wall.
“Would you like some tea?” Yolanda said.
“Oh, you don’t have to—” started Synago, but Yolanda was already off the edge of the bed and making her way to the miniature kitchen.
Synago watched her prepare some boiling water. It felt odd to have the person she was supposed to be comforting doing something for her instead. But perhaps it was taking care of others that made Yolanda feel better. Synago knew how that worked. She’d been taking care of her sister their whole lives, and it always made her feel better to do something nice for Mellie.
Yolanda poured boiling water into three dainty cups with tea leaves, and brought them over on a small tray. Synago took hers, and smelled it before taking a small sip. It was still very hot, but the mint flavor lingered on her tongue. She watched as Mellie went to drink it but put her hand out to stop her at the last second.
“It’s hot! Wait a minute,” she said. Mellie grumbled but obliged Synago. She’d burnt her tongue too many times not to heed Synago’s warnings.
Yolanda jumped back up onto the bed between the pair and sipped at her own tea. She was the first to speak out of the silence between them.
“How did your drafting go?” she said. Synago tightened her grip on the small teacup’s handle and gritted her teeth.
“She was drafted,” said Synago, nodding her head towards Mellie. Mellie smiled at her, and Synago’s heart broke all over again. “She can’t be alone out there, she just can’t. You know how she is I… I don’t know what to do. There’s nothing I can do.”
Yolanda set her tea down on the tray, which rested on her lap.
“That’s what I thought, too. And then… and then…” Yolanda burst into tears again and buried her face in her hands. Mellie rubbed her back to comfort her, whilst blowing on her tea.
Synago frowned. “And then what?” She asked. Yolanda knew of a way to get around the draft?
Yolanda took her face out of her hands and wiped her tear soaked fur with them. She sniffled, blew her nose into her kerchief once more, and then looked at Synago to address her.
“Suppose I should start from the beginning, dear. I was drafted, and then…”
“Then?” asked Synago. Yolanda nodded and continued,
“Roland volunteered to take my place.”
“Wait. It’s possible to volunteer in someone’s place?”
Yolanda shrugged. “They tried to stop him, but he had a plan. That ex diplomat next door, Tulie, told him about a loophole in the law that would let him do it. If you volunteer to take someone’s place on the same day they’re drafted they’re required to take you in. And now he’s… now he’s…”
Yolanda burst into tears again. Her whole body shook and the tea cup on the tray in her lap slid precariously towards the edge. Synago downed the rest of her tea and took all three of their cups back to the miniature kitchen on the tray. When she returned Yolanda was calmed down a bit, so Synago decided to ask for more details.
“So your number was called, and then all he had to do was stand up and volunteer to go in your place?”
Yolanda nodded, still wringing her kerchief in her hands. “Yes. They had to pull a big book out on the law. He was right. It said that ‘anyone can volunteer to take the place of a draftee by the end of the first day’. Or something like that.”
Synago’s heart raced as a plan formed in her mind. Could she take Mellie’s place? Surely the law would apply to her, too. Yolanda must have seen the look on her face, because she stopped sniffling and asked her, “Are you all right?”
“It’s just… It’s Mellie. She was drafted too, like I told you. Maybe I could take her place. Do you think they’d take me?” said Synago. Yolanda quirked one of her furry eyebrows.
“I don’t know much about that law, dear. There’s only one way to find out, and that’s to go back. Do you really want to join the Resistance, though?” she asked.
Synago clenched her jaw and steeled her resolve. “I’d do anything to keep Mellie safe. Will you take care of her while I go back alone?” Synago was already up and standing in the doorway, itching to get back to the emissary before they closed for the day. She had only one shot at this and if she wasted too much more time she wouldn’t make it.
Yolanda smiled and looked at Mellie, who was still rubbing her back. “I think she’ll be the one taking care of me, the big sweet girl. But yes, of course.”
“Thank you Yolanda. For everything,” Synago said, and then disappeared down the hallway towards the stairs.
When she got out of the inn and onto the road the sun was already setting. The few light stone lamps that hung outside of the various shops on either side of the road were already lit. Despite the hour and the previous rain the roads were filled with vendors and people shopping their wares. By the looks of it, if she ran she’d barely make it.
She shot down the road as fast as her legs would take her, darting amongst the crowds of people. She took the first sharp right and ran into a man holding a basket full of apples. The man toppled over and the apples went everywhere in the mud on the ground. Synago tried to go around him and the apples but her food caught on one and she slipped to the ground.
“High Mother, girl! What are you doing?” said the man. Synago groaned, she’d broken her fall with her hands, but it still hurt, and now she was covered in mud.
“I’m sorry, it’s an emergency. I have to go,” she said to the man. She picked herself up, lifted her skirts up a bit from the ground and then kept running. She�
��d save Mellie if it killed her. She took another right and nearly ran into a horse its rider. The horse spooked and reared up, nearly kicking her in the face with it’s front leg. She dodged it just in time and kept running down the road. This last stretch of the journey was even more full of people than the first. Her pace was forced to a slow, meandering trot. It almost felt as if she were in a dream; she wanted to run but her legs would not go.
Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, she reached the last corner. She took a left. This last road was nearly empty. It was lined with government buildings, where vendors weren’t allowed to sell. She took advantage of the emptiness and sprinted down the straight mud path.
When she reached the building, the crowds of people grouped up for drafting were all gone. Her heart dropped. Had they finished already?
“No, no, no,” she chanted under her breath. She jiggled the bronze doorknob, but it wouldn’t budge. She banged on the door but she could see the building was empty through a front window.
She slumped down against the door and began to cry. She’d missed them, and now the volunteer law wouldn’t apply to her. Mellie was still in danger and she’d failed to protect her not once, but twice in one day. All it took was being probably five minutes late, and now what? How would she help Mellie? She pushed the thoughts away and stood up, then wiped the tears away with the back of her fist. She’d figure this out.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Plan
ROLAND WASN’T AT the desk to greet Synago when she made it back to the inn. In fact, no one was there. Synago realized that while she was gone the inn closed up for the night. It was getting late. She navigated her way through the inn’s many hallways until she arrived at the staircase to the dormitories. She was sore, wet, and muddy. All she wanted to do was climb in bed and sleep to forget the horrible day. But she had to take care of Mellie first.
When she arrived at Yolanda’s door she knocked, and then waited. Her legs felt heavy, and her eyes weary. The door slid back and Yolanda stood in the frame. She appeared much improved from before, the redness in her eyes and tears were gone and replaced with a soft smile.
“I see you’re back, dear. Come in, come in,” she said, and then ushered Synago inside.
Mellie was on the floor playing with some children’s toys - there were some wooden blocks and a small fabric doll. As soon as she saw Synago, she dropped her things and stood up to hug her.
“Syn!” Mellie shouted. Synago hugged her back.
Yolanda stood watching the pair of them, and when they broke apart she spoke. “How did it go? Did you get there in time?”
Synago flinched at the questions, as if she’d been offered some kind of sour fruit. Her answer hurt. “I didn’t, no. I don’t know what to do.”
Before Yolanda could reply, the door slid open behind them. Synago turned around and saw that it was Roland. His face was taut and his fox like ears downcast, but he perked up when he saw Synago and Mellie along with his mother.
“Oh. Hello. It’s you two. What’s going on here?” he said.
Yolanda put her hands on her hips and sighed. “It’s the draft. They’re here because poor Mellie got drafted. We’re commiserating. I’ll make us all some tea, get comfortable you three.”
Before Synago could tell her otherwise, she began to fix some tea in her little miniature kitchen. Synago sighed and took a seat in a plush chair by the window instead of attempting rebellion. Mellie went back to her toys and Roland sat on the edge of the bed. Roland was the first to break the silence after a few minutes.
“So I guess she told you about my volunteering?”
Synago nodded. “Yes. And I just got back from the emissary. I was going to volunteer just like you did to take Mellie’s place but they were closed by the time I got there.”
Roland grunted in response, he seemed lost in his own thoughts. They were silent for a few more moments before a thought popped into Synago’s head. She had a question for Roland.
“So, Yolanda told me someone helped you find a loop hole in the law? A flower shop owner? Do you think they could help me?”
By the time Synago finished her question, Yolanda was done making the tea. She used her tray again to hand out cups to everyone and then took her place by Roland on the bed. The porcelain finery was miniscule in Synago’s hands but she sipped from it as if it were normal size anyway. Roland took a sip of his own before replying to her question.
“If anyone can help you, it’s Tulie. That’s her name. She’s an ex diplomat for some pro-Resistance country. Ishka, I think. I went into her shop next door one day to get flowers, and got to know her a bit. When we got our letters for the draft I asked her if there was anything I could do to help my mother.”
They were silent for a few more moments while Synago thought. “What did you do before to avoid being drafted?
Yolanda and Roland looked at each other, to Synago, and back to each other. They chuckled together like Synago’d said something funny. When they saw Synago’s questioning look, Roland answered for them.
“We’re both refugees, but because we were Yukan we didn’t have to take part in the draft until now. After doing some research Tulie came over and told me about the law. And here we are.”
Synago sipped at her tea and looked to Mellie. While Synago was paying attention to Roland, Mellie had started dunking the cloth doll’s head in the tea. Synago sighed and put her tea down on a nearby chair side table.
“Mellie, don’t do that,” Synago pleaded.
Mellie scowled at her. “But she’s thirsty! My doll’s thirsty!”
“The doll isn’t…” Synago didn’t bother to finish her sentence. She turned to Yolanda instead. “Sorry.”
Yolanda smiled and laughed. “It’s quite all right. Those are just some of Roland’s old toys. They’ve been through worse,” she said. Synago smiled. High Mother bless that woman, she was good with Mellie. And that was rare. Synago turned her attention back to Roland.
“So you think I should visit Tulie and see what she has to say about my situation? When should I go?”
Roland scratched behind his ear and thought for a moment. “To be quite honest with you I’d say go now. After someone is drafted it’s only a few days to a week before they leave for training.”
Synago was taken aback. “Now? When it’s this late?”
Roland smiled at her. “She’s an odd one. Definitely not the early to bed type. Her shop is closed but she lives in the back so if you knock on the door she should answer it still.”
Synago rubbed her chin in thought. Roland was right, she had to see Tulie before Mellie left. The sooner the better. “All right, I’ll go,” she said, “But only if you’re able to put Mellie to bed, Yolanda. I don’t want to trouble you.”
Yolanda waved her words away. “It’s no matter, dear. I’m happy to help. Mellie and I get along, don’t we Mellie?”
Mellie looked up at Yolanda and smiled. Relief washed through Synago. It was exceptional that anyone understood Mellie, let alone knew how to take care of her. If a child took a village, Mellie took two villages at least.
Synago stood up and headed for the door. “I better be on my way, then. I’ll tell you both how it went in the morning. Don’t stay up for me. Thank you for the tea, Yolanda. And you for the help, Roland.”
The street outside the inn was lit by dim light stone lamps in every shop’s window. It was well into the night now, and stars shone pinpricks of light above Synago’s head. She looked on either side of the inn. On one side was a stable full of the inn guest’s horses, and on the other was a shop with a wooden sign that read “Tulie’s Tulips”. The wooden sign was set with intricate carvings of flowers, and swung in the night breeze. Synago approached the door to the flower shop and paused for a moment. She was still very torn about whether to do this now or tomorrow morning. After a few more minutes of deliberation she steeled her resolve and knocked on the door.
