Tallow

by Karen Brooks

  He turned his back to me.

  I left.

  I gathered my belongings, picked up Katina's scabbard and satchel and, without another glance, left the only home I'd ever known.

  I don't know when I started crying. All I know is that my tears didn't stop the pain.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  The charade unravels

  DANTE WAS BUSY RESTOCKING HIS great-aunt's shop. Now that the quartiere had been declared disease-free, it was time to think about getting on with their lives and restoring lost business. While no-one wanted to profit from the tragedy of what had happened, it was unrealistic not to be prepared. With people from the ghetto moving in and survivors staking their claim, it wouldn't be long before things returned to normal. Dante knew that both Zia Gaia and his grandfather, Renzo, had a great deal of work ahead of them, and, as much as he despised anything to do with chandling – soap or otherwise – the least he could do was stack shelves while they made arrangements for family members who had survived.

  One of Dante's uncles and two of his cousins had died in the last days of the outbreak, which meant that there were grieving parents and a widow to care for and console. Gaia and Renzo were doing all they could to help secure their nieces, nephews and children some sort of future. Already, the widow and her four children had moved next door – the boys were already apprenticed to chandling. Renzo's son and daughter-in-law would join the business as well.

  Dante couldn't help but be relieved that his grandfather and Zio Colzo would have four more cousins to train. It meant his chances of finding something else to do with his life were improving. But for now, he would help in whatever way he could, even if it meant rendering the fat that had been sitting in the vats for weeks or selling soap.

  Evening gradually draped itself over the calle, the shop's interior dimming to a dull grey. Dante climbed down from the small ladder and fetched a candle. He could hear his grandfather and Zia Gaia talking with his uncle in the workshop behind. Placing the thick stump of wax on the counter, he lit it, watching as the flame sputtered and caught. The candle led him to think of Tallow, and he wondered how his strange young friend was faring. Hopefully, when he had some spare time and people were again comfortable moving around other quartieri, he could find out for himself.

  He stood in the middle of the shop, hands on hips, and gazed up at the remaining empty shelves. 'You won't stack yourselves, will you?' He sighed and bent to pick up some more bars of soap. A movement outside caught his attention. Something was there. A thin stream of moonlight pierced the calle, forming shadows on the opposite walls. He studied them warily, convinced they were nothing but phantoms of his tired mind, when one of them broke away and came towards him. It crouched under the window-sill. His heart hammered against his ribs and his palms became damp.

  Damn, he thought. Don't those wretched thieves realise – the people in here survived! Looters had been a problem in the calle. At the height of the trouble, they'd broken into houses and shops, stealing whatever they could. Well, they aren't going to take anything from this shop. He quickly searched for something heavy. He'd teach them a lesson they wouldn't forget. The piece of wood used to prop open the workshop door caught his eye. He hefted it in his hand and, picking up the candle he'd just lit, tiptoed his way to the front door.

  Dante counted to three and then, with all his might, swung the door open. A body rolled over the threshold and slammed into his ankles, almost bringing him to his knees. He yelped and dropped the candle. The light went out and, in the dark, he lashed out with his boot, kicking hard. There was a series of grunts. He lifted the wood above his head as something large flew through the door and leapt on him.

  He fell to the floor, flailing, his makeshift weapon skittering out of reach. 'Get out! You have no right to be here!' he cried, the sound muffled in rags, hair and limbs.

  'Cane, get down! Off!' ordered a familiar voice.

  'Tallow?' Dante thought he must be mistaken.

  The struggle ceased immediately. Splayed on the shop floor in a jumble of arms and legs, Tallow and Dante stared at each other, their eyes becoming accustomed to the dark. Cane, freeing himself from beneath them, started barking.

  'Cane! Shut up!' ordered Tallow. Cane bounded through the open door and down the calle, still barking.

  'You kept him!' exclaimed Dante.

  Tallow nodded. 'Of course I did. I didn't have a choice, really.'

  Dante laughed. 'You never told me.'

  'You never asked,' said Tallow.

  Dante sat up slowly, taking in Tallow's filthy clothes and the dirt smeared across his face and neck. He noticed the scars that used to chequer his cheeks and lips had disappeared. And those silver eyes. They were luminous in the half-light. He found himself drawn to them. But he looked away lest Tallow remember he didn't have his glasses on and become uneasy. It was too soon for awkwardness. He wanted to know what his friend was doing here, curled up like a gypsy on the doorstep.

  He cleared his throat. 'To what do we owe the pleasure?' Then a thought struck him. 'Why didn't you knock?'

  'I did,' protested Tallow. 'For ages, but no-one heard. Eventually, I fell asleep. That is, until you so kindly woke me.'

  'Woke you? How long have you been out there?' Before she could answer, he screwed up his nose. 'You could have at least had a wash before you came.' He hoisted himself to his feet, found the flint and relit the candle. Holding it above her, he shook his head, 'Look at you. You're a sorry sight. You smell worse than the canal in summ–' He saw the look on Tallow's face and stopped. 'Tallow? What is it? I didn't mean –'

  'OH, DANTE,' SAID TALLOW. 'I'VE made a real mess of things ... everything,' she said and bowed her head, unable to speak any more. Her shoulders started to shake. Dante stood there, uncertain what to do or say.

  'Well,' said another voice. 'I always think even real messes don't look nearly so bad when they're at least partly cleaned up, wouldn't you agree?'

  'Zia Gaia,' moaned Dante. He hadn't heard her come in.

  'Don't you Zia Gaia me, young man; I heard the commotion. Close that door and get out of my way. Our friend here needs help. A nice warm bath and some clean clothes will do for starters – and by the feel of those ribs ...' she said, one arm around Tallow's waist as she helped her stand, the other lifting the candle she carried, '... a good feed, too.' She took stock of the young person she held. 'Come on, no buts,' she said as Tallow tried to pull away.

  Tallow didn't want to argue. But the idea of a warm bath set her heart racing – and not just because she'd never had one before. Not when a wash behind the ears with a cool, wet cloth would do. It was the bandages around her chest she was worried about. How would she be able to hide those, let alone the rest of her from prying eyes if she had a bath? She tried to formulate a plan, an excuse. Until she came up with something, however, she would be meek and grateful.

  'Thanks, ah ... er ...'

  'Oh, you can call me Zia Gaia. Everyone else does.' She smiled at Tallow. 'My, would you look at those eyes of yours. I swear the light's playing tricks in here, because they look like a pair of mirrors!'

  Tallow almost broke out of Gaia's grasp. Of course! Her eyes. Damn! She glanced at Dante who was grinning at her stupidly. Did he even know what her eyes signified? She'd forgotten how they revealed her Estrattore blood. Especially now that she'd become used to controlling her urge to extract from anything she touched. But she'd also grown so accustomed to her spectacles. She'd have to get used to keeping her head down again, not looking at people so much.

  Almost reflexively, she pushed her hair across her eyes. As she did, her thoughts went to Katina. If Katina were here, she wouldn't have to worry. In fact, she wouldn't even be here – with Dante. Katina would never have allowed Pillar to throw her out. But where was Katina? For the first time in months, Tallow found herself thinking about the Bond Rider and wondering why she hadn't returned. And if she did, would Katina be able to find her? She found you the first time, didn't she? />
  Pushing aside her misery as Gaia dragged her out of the shop, she tossed around a few excuses in her head – something, anything to get her out of the promised bath, which would reveal her secret. But it was no good. She could tell from the grip Gaia maintained that this was a woman who, once she had made up her mind about something, could not be persuaded otherwise.

  Led into a small washroom out the back, Tallow was left against a wall while Gaia bustled around, boiling water and fetching towels, chattering the entire time. In time with his Aunt's conversation, Dante repeatedly opened and shut his fingers behind her back, causing Tallow to stifle a giggle.

  'Hmm? What's that?' asked Gaia glancing over her shoulder.

  Tallow looked away, while Dante ceased his mimicry immediately and simply shrugged. Gaia arched a brow at them before returning to her preparations.

  There was no shortage of soap and Tallow was given a bar all to herself. When everything was ready, Gaia waited by the steaming wooden tub, a small jug in her hands and a wash rag hanging from her fingers. Dante sat cross-legged in a corner. The water looked hot, and Tallow's eyes strayed uneasily from the tub, to Gaia, to Dante and then back again.

  'Well, come on,' said Gaia playfully. 'Dirty bodies don't wash themselves, you know. Take those ... clothes ... off.' She pulled a face. 'I'll see if I can salvage them later.'

  'Oh.' Tallow's eyes widened. It had never occurred to her that her clothes were so distasteful, but Gaia's expression told her they were more than that. She pulled her shirt away from her torso and for the first time noticed the blend of old stains and new streaking the front. Her cuffs were very dark, as were the tattered ends. She compared her worn, grey shirt to Dante's crisp cream one. Dante was right, she must look a sight. She sighed and waited for Dante and Gaia to leave. She'd have the bath then and try and do something about her clothes as well.

  'For goodness sake!' exclaimed Gaia, putting the jug on the floor and clutching Tallow's shirt front. Her fingers began to tug at the laces. 'We haven't got all night!'

  Tallow recoiled. They were going to stay and watch her? 'No. Please!' She gently knocked away Gaia's hands and pulled her shirt across her chest. 'I'm not used to, you know, washing in front of others.'

  Dante burst out laughing. 'Tell the truth, Tallow. You're not used to washing!'

  'Dante! Don't be so rude,' snapped Gaia. She looked helplessly from Tallow to Dante. She clearly hadn't expected this sudden display of modesty. Not when she was accustomed to a family who practically bathed together. 'Go and grab one of your old shirts and a pair of breeches, Dante. One of the sets you don't fit into any more.' She indicated that he should leave.

  Dante rose to his feet reluctantly. 'But –'

  'No buts. Do as you're told,' she said firmly.

  Gaia faced Tallow. 'Come on then, you don't need to be self-conscious around me, young man. I've helped raise enough nephews that nothing you have could surprise me.'

  She opened the door and shooed Dante out.

  Dante went into the shop. His heart was lighter than it had been in days and he knew it was because Tallow was here. He was about to climb the stairs and fetch the clothes when he heard a scraping at the door. He turned around and saw Cane's long nose pressed against the glass.

  'Sorry, boy! We forgot about you, didn't we?' He quickly unlatched the door and let the dog in.

  Cane jumped on him gratefully. Thrown off balance, Dante fell onto the floor. Thinking it was a game, Cane launched himself on Dante, licking and yapping. Laughing, Dante pulled him onto the slate and began wrestling. Just as he did, a loud shriek came from the washroom, followed by hearty laughter.

  It was Gaia.

  Dante leapt to his feet and ran down the corridor, Cane on his heels. He tried to open the washroom door, but something was preventing him. He pounded with his fist. 'What's going on? Are you all right?'

  Through the door came the murmur of voices. 'Zia Gaia? Tallow? What's going on?'

  He heard a giggle, followed by whispers.

  'Come on! What's so funny?'

  'Go away, Dante. Everything is fine – just fine,' laughed Gaia. 'We'll be out in a while. Turns out young Tallow here did surprise me after all.'

  AFTER A LATE SUPPER AT which Tallow was introduced to Dante's grandfather and his Zio Colzo, Gaia made up a bed for Tallow in the kitchen.

  'What are you doing, Zia Gaia?' said Dante. 'Tallow's sleeping in the attic with me.'

  'No,' said Gaia firmly. 'No, he's not. He's sleeping right here where I can keep an eye on him.' She glanced at Tallow, who flashed her a small smile.

  After the initial shock of seeing Tallow's breasts, Gaia had listened to Tallow's story of a cruel uncle who had beaten her ruthlessly and wanted to sell her into slavery until kindly Pillar had rescued her and disguised her as a boy. But Pillar, her only saviour, had disappeared during the outbreak. She had nowhere to go, no-one to turn to.

  'Even now,' Tallow had woven her tale quickly. 'My zio searches for me. If anyone were to find out my real identity – anyone – I would be taken away and given to the Vyzantians.'

  Tallow could sense that Gaia didn't really believe her. Too sensible to credit such a wild story, she studied Tallow's face. Desperate now, Tallow decided to risk everything. She met Gaia's gaze and, summoning her powers, rested her fingers lightly on the woman's arm.

  It had been easy to extract honesty and credibility from the surfaces in Dante's home. The entire place contained the essence of everyone who had ever lived beneath the roof. Magnifying her extraction by drawing on Gaia's own sense of rectitude made it even stronger. Quickly, she distilled it into the woman, allowing it to mix with the qualities Tallow could feel Gaia already possessed.

  Releasing Gaia, she lowered her eyes and waited.

  Seconds passed.

  Finally, Gaia spoke. 'You'll not go to any zio, let alone a dirty Vyzantian, while you're under my roof,' she said.

  It sounded like an oath.

  Tallow breathed a sigh of relief. Exultation filled her. She'd never done that before, used her gift to deliberately manipulate someone. But her excitement was contaminated by remorse. It had been too easy! Katina hadn't told her. Why, if she could influence someone as grounded as Gaia, then perhaps things might be all right after all.

  Until Katina returned to finish training her, Tallow knew she had to stay low and keep safe, and that wouldn't be easy. Hopefully, she wouldn't have long to wait and, maybe while she did, she'd be able to stay here with Dante and his family. After all, she needed Katina's help to improve her talent. There was no way she was ready to strike out on her own. Seeing the earnestness in Gaia's face gave her pause. Or was she? Her skills had improved immensely since her first clumsy efforts. Was it simply courage she lacked, courage to stand on her own two feet?

  No. She still had a lot to learn, and not just about being an Estrattore. Now that someone else shared the secret of her sex, the pressure of maintaining the charade on her own lessened. She decided that while she was under Dante's roof, she would try and learn as much as she could about being a woman from observing Dante's female relatives.

  Using the soft towel Gaia gave her, she dried herself, marvelling at how different her flesh looked and felt. She relished the smell of Dante's old clothes against her clean skin, the freshness of the fabric, and the knowledge that these garments had once rested against him. She took her time, knowing she had some important decisions to make. But at least now I have an ally, she thought, glancing at Gaia fussing around her.

  For the next five days, Tallow lived the type of life she'd always been denied. Meals were shared without fights. Vino was drunk in moderation, not to hasten forgetfulness and sleep. Even the work, which was laborious and long, wasn't infected by the usual recriminations and criticisms. Bedtime was not something to look forward to as an escape, but as a genuine rest period that Tallow not only found she needed, but actually regretted because it took her away from Gaia, Renzo and Dante.