The Clearing

by Lina J. Potter

  Eric looked surprised. “I don’t know. There were twenty slaves. A couple of them died. And we took the slave traders, too.”

  Lily bit her thumbnail. “Can you tell them apart?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “Good. Bring your men to the castle. For now, you can keep the prisoners in the dungeon. Leis will show you where it is. I’ll decide what to do with them later.”

  Lily remembered that the king’s envoy should be on his way, and she thought he might be happy to get his hands on some slave traders.

  “Do you have many wounded?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “Leis, have them all brought in and show them to Jaimie.”

  No one in the room could tell how hard it was for Lily to give that order. Jaimie would have to take care of them. She wouldn’t do it herself. It was one thing to jump in and help in an emergency, but quite a different thing to show off medical wisdom on a regular basis. She wouldn’t risk it.

  Lily hadn’t forgotten the strange look Martha gave her that morning. She would need to talk to her nanny again.

  Leis nodded. “Yes, my lady.”

  “Tell Emma I need to see her after she’s found room for everyone.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “You may go.”

  Lily waved a hand and the men left. Then she fell back in her chair. She felt awful. Just awful. The sun was much lower in the sky when she reached for a piece of parchment out of habit. Writing helped her order her thoughts.

  First: I don’t have much money. Second: I have enough warriors for an army. Question: what do I need them for? Am I going to war with someone?

  She thought about slave traders and chewed on her lip.

  Etor, what the hell did you have going on here? Why did the villagers just sit around and watch you sell their children into slavery? If you came after my child, I’d blow up this whole estate to get to you.

  The door creaked. Lily looked up. “What is it, Martha?”

  Lons Avels watched with horror as the hatch opened. He was more than afraid. He had already been through one sea battle and had no desire to ever live through another.

  Why are they letting us out this time?

  He didn’t know what was going on, but he suspected it meant nothing good for him. He was starting to lose his mind in the stuffy hold. The food and water were bad, and the last storm had been terrifying. Lons had listened to the screaming winds and felt the terrible waves, all the while knowing full well that if the ship went down he would go down with it.

  The worst thing about slavery was that nothing depended on him. He was no longer the master of his own fate. Whether he lived or died depended on decisions made by others.

  In a way, the storm bore fruit. It chased the slave ship far away from shore, where they encountered another ship. Virmans. Lons heard the sounds of fighting and was terrified once again. He had heard plenty about the wild inhabitants of Virma. They took no prisoners, and they sunk ships after they plundered them. They were crazed from being away from their women for so long, so they used prisoners in most unnatural ways.

  When the hatch opened, Lons expected all hell to break loose. Instead, he and the others were dragged from the hold and driven onto the other ship like livestock. The Virmans kicked them and yelled at them as if they were animals, because that’s how they saw them. It was terrifying.

  On the Virmans’ ship, Lons was seasick all the time. They were hit by a storm. The food was bad. The water was bad. And there was death. About ten people died. Someone died almost every night, some from their wounds and some from exhaustion. Lons knew that he wouldn’t last much longer, either. He was weak. He lost consciousness for long stretches of time. The only emotion he still had was fear. He wasn’t afraid of death anymore. He was just afraid of pain.

  Then the Virmans dragged them from the hold and shoved them to the gangplanks. Lons couldn’t believe his eyes. He was breathing clean air again. He was surrounded by trees. Dry land! Aldonai knew that Lons had never valued any of those things before. He had always wanted something better, something more important. But in the end, what mattered the most was fresh air.

  The Virmans led their prisoners along a path. Lons felt it would never end, and he didn’t want it to end. He just kept walking. Eventually, he looked up and saw a castle.

  “Earton,” one of the Virmans said.

  Earton? Is that in Avesterra? This is nowhere in Darkom and Elvanna and the Khanganate, where all the place names sounded very different.

  He knew he must be in Avesterra or Ativerna.

  What is going on? Slavery is illegal here!

  The Virmans led them through the castle yard and down into the dungeon. Lons preferred the dungeon to the dark hold of a ship bouncing on the waves. After what he had been through, a separate cell with daily meals, a straw-filled mattress and a torch on the wall felt like the height of luxury. He ate everything he was given, drank a cup of clean, clear water and fell on his mattress. He knew he needed to sleep and regain his strength. Whatever awaited him, he would somehow get back to Wellster and find Anna. He would never abandon his wife.

  Lily looked at her nanny. Martha looked down at the woman sitting in Lily’s chair. She saw many things that were not like the little girl she had raised. This woman held her head differently. She had a different look in her eyes, different gestures. Even the way she raised her eyebrows was different. Her little Lily could never have pulled off those raised eyebrows. And she could never have commanded so many people. She was a quiet, obedient girl who loved to stay home and say her prayers.

  Finally, Martha spoke. “Who are you?”

  The answer was immediate. “Lilian Elizabeth Mariella Earton.” It took all that Lily had to reply, but she couldn’t stop now.

  “No. You are not her.” Martha sounded almost certain. Almost. Lily grasped for her nanny’s doubts.

  “Is that so? Then who am I?”

  “I don’t know. I went to see the witch when Lily was dying, and I asked her for a potion. She warned me that I might get strange results. You are not like Lily.”

  I won’t admit to anything. I still have some fragments of Lilian Earton’s memories. I can use that.

  “Then who am I? What a strange thing to say. Nanny, I remember you teaching me my prayers. I remember how much I hated oatmeal. I remember crying when you brought me yellow flowers instead of the pink ones I had asked you for. I was fifteen then, and I remember my father saying he wouldn’t let anyone marry me until I was at least sixteen.” She went on, listing things she remembered from Lilian Earton’s childhood. She could see that it was having an effect.

  Martha’s face softened. “But you…”

  “I am different now. That is true. But who wouldn’t be? Nanny, I nearly died. I lost my child, and I almost lost my mind with grief. How could you expect me to stay the same?”

  Martha was wavering, so Lily finished her off. “I remember all the prayers you taught me. I remember what you talked to me about after my wedding, and how I cried on your shoulder. Do you want me to say it all again?”

  It was a sad memory. Lily had been complaining about how rough her husband was and how much it hurt when she lay in bed with him. Martha had comforted her, saying that someday it would get better.

  Lily stood and put her arm around the old woman. Martha didn’t flinch. “Martha, dear Martha. I am changing. I am trying to become stronger and wiser. That is how it should be. But it is hard work. Please don’t turn away from me. You’ve always been,” she paused, “my own little mommy.”

  My own little mommy. Lily had always called Martha that when she was a girl. She didn’t actually remember it, but somehow it had come to her when she needed it, and it helped. Martha gave a sniffle and hugged her girl.

  Tears and embraces. Curtain.

  Ali Akhmet was napping in his cabin when his assistant woke him. “My lord, the Golden Lily has been sighted.”

  “I see.” Ali knew the captain of the Go
lden Lily. He was a Khangan, one of the few who preferred sailing to long voyages over land. He was often found sailing along the continent.

  “They are signaling to request communication with us.”

  “Signal back for them to wait. We will catch up with them soon.”

  Ali climbed out of his bed and began to dress. His leg hardly hurt at all. He still wore a brace, but soon it could come off. He walked carefully, not putting too much strain on his leg. Layla helped him dress.

  Ali left his cabin and went up on deck. He was headed to Earton bearing gifts of silk and jewels, but he knew that Lilian already had those things. He hoped that Selim would have something better on board, something that Ali could barter for.

  Lily had a splitting headache for the next three days. Emma handled many things for her, but other things would just have to wait.

  I need to take a look at those prisoners the Virmans brought in, but not yet. I’ll tell Jaimie to take care of the sick and wounded among them.

  She ordered Leif’s men to build small fishing boats and start fishing. Ingrid was put in charge of the smokehouse and the salt pits, so she and her workers would need huts or dugouts down at the shore to live in.

  If we waste time now, we’ll starve this winter.

  The glassblower was instructed to follow Ingrid to the shore and bring back everything he saw that could possibly be useful. Lily finally managed to explain to him what the word “samples” meant, although she almost turned her hair gray in the process. They agreed that he would load up as much sand as he could and bring it back under guard.

  Once Jaimie had treated the worst off of Eric’s men, she sent them to repair her old fishing boats and build a covered shed to store them for the winter.

  Those boats will keep us fed if we treat them right.

  While talking with the Virmans about boats and boat repair, Lily was reminded that Earton’s coastline was a hazardous place, full of reefs and shallows. The Virmans’ boats had shallow drafts and were able to navigate through waters where others would be grounded. Lily didn’t know a thing about shipbuilding, but she made an effort to understand and remember what the Virmans told her. And once again, she pondered what had brought the slave traders to Earton in the first place. It was hard to reach and there was little of value.

  While she was laid up in bed, Lily also called for the blacksmith and showed him her latest idea: a crochet hook. She wanted to teach her dressmakers how to make lace.

  Ingrid had brought Virman goats with her. Lily could hear them bleating in the yard. A handful of the Virmans’ children had been entrusted with caring for the goats, and that included combing them daily. Once there was enough hair, the women would spin it into fine yarn.

  Jaimie was also kept busy. When Lily went to see how he was treating the sick and wounded, she noticed that he had a small store of haircap moss that he was using to make primitive bandages. She immediately questioned him and learned that he had gotten it from the old healer.

  Emma was instructed to send out as many children as she could get her hands on to search for more haircap in all the bogs and low-lying areas on the estate. The more they could find, the better. Lily wanted them to bring back absolutely everything they found, just in case there were other useful plants out there. She would sort through it all later. Once she felt better, she planned to comb through the bogs in person.

  If I find peat, we’ll figure out what to do with it. At the very least, peat will be a cheaper source of heat for the castle. And there could be mushrooms, too!

  Lily remembered spending weekends in September, October and even November hunting for mushrooms with her mother. She knew which mushrooms to salt and which to dry, and she knew how to make a terrific mushroom soup. That was one more item on her to-do list.

  She decided to call a meeting with the village elders. In the back of her mind, she still needed to know who had been helping Etor. And how.

  He was selling their children into slavery. Why weren’t they protesting?

  The only possible explanation she could think of was that the villagers were all so scared that they didn’t dare open their mouths.

  But if they were scared, who were they scared of?

  She reflected on the possible answers to that question, and wondered if she would soon need to call on her armed guards. From her conversations with the pastor, Lily knew that large private armies were frowned on these days. In earlier times, each feudal lord had kept a large army of several hundred or even a thousand men, all of whom had to be fed and clothed. But those times had passed. It was now considered more than sufficient if a nobleman kept forty or fifty guards to watch over his estate and family. The times were so quiet that most guards were nothing more than armchair warriors.

  Lily expressed wonder that Earton had been completely unguarded until she took measures. Pastor Vopler explained that Etor had sent the men away approximately six months ago.

  “But why?”

  “I have no idea, my lady.”

  Lily couldn’t understand it, either. Something smelled fishy in Earton, but she didn’t know what it was, yet. She would call in the village elders for a little chat.

  From a hastily penned letter:

  “My lord, the countess has brought many Virmans to the estate. She is alive and well and doing as she likes. There is no way to get to her. I will do my best, but I cannot guarantee success.”

  “Lily!”

  Waking up was always agreeable, except when Lily had a heavy child bouncing up and down on her stomach. One eye open, she caught the little girl and tickled her.

  “Mirrie, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

  “I am!”

  “Why did you wake me up this early?”

  “I wanted to see you. Are you going to stay in bed all day?”

  “No. I’m getting up today. Now, go wash your face while I wash mine. Then we’ll eat breakfast. Agreed?”

  Mirrie leaped off the bed and accidentally hit her leg on the bedside table. Several choice phrases echoed around the room.

  “$%&*@@!”

  Lily gasped. “Mirrie, where did you pick up language like that?”

  “But yesterday you said…”

  Lily could have pulled out all her hair. So that’s where she got it from.

  This isn’t medical school, where every other word has four letters. I’ve got a child following my example now, and it looks like I’m doing a great job of teaching her all the wrong things.

  “Mirrie!”

  “Yes?”

  She took a deep breath and wondered how on earth to save the situation.

  “Mirrie, dear, that’s a very bad word.”

  “But you said it, didn’t you?”

  “You’re right, I did. But I only said it because I was extremely angry. In all other situations, we don’t use that word. Do you understand?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because your father won’t like it. And a young girl shouldn’t talk like a soldier who just dropped a dresser on his foot.”

  “What’s a dresser?”

  Lily scratched her nose. Mirrie had a point. She hadn’t seen any dressers in her new home.

  “I’ll tell you later. Now go get dressed, and don’t say any more bad words.”

  Mirrie ran from the room. Lily sighed.

  I’m going to have to restrain myself from now on. Maybe I should take some classes from Maria Reichart. Good manners – that’s what I need.

  Lily admitted to herself that she knew precious little about manners – modern or historical. She had devoted her entire life to the pursuit of medical knowledge, and now she realized that she had missed out on a few things. She hadn’t even read many books, other than her medical references. Who had the time?

  In her previous life, Aliya Skorolenok had been an active child who preferred playing ball to playing princess. Plus, she was an army brat who moved often, so her education had suffered. When she read for pleasure, she reached for Arthur Cona
n Doyle and Agatha Christie.

  I get a big fat zero in etiquette. If I was stunningly beautiful, I might get away with not knowing how to curtsey the right way. But as it is…

  She slid off her bed and opened up the wardrobe mirror. Her reflection looked back at her. She could see improvements – and cheekbones – but she still had a long way to go. As an estimate, Lily thought she weight between 180 and 200 pounds. That was better than the 250 she had been recently.

  Lily called for a maid. Then she washed, dressed and headed downstairs with Mirrie to eat breakfast. Mirrie tried to follow Lily’s example by eating a bowl of plain oatmeal for breakfast, but soon she reached for the milk and honey.

  “It tastes better that way!”

  Lily didn’t object. “Of course it does. You can have it that way, but I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m still a little bit bigger than I should be if I want to be healthy.”

  As they ate, Lily told the girl the principles behind the body mass index. “There is nothing wrong with being large,” she told her. “Some people are built bigger than others. But no one should be soft and fat. That makes your heart and kidneys work too hard.”

  Lily remembered plenty of large women from her old life – the kind of women that could “stop a galloping horse and enter a burning house,” as the poem went. They were large and strong and muscular, not soft and covered with fat rolls. And they gave birth easily.

  Miranda was all ears. Lily knew how to give a health talk that wouldn’t bore a child. Medicine was her whole life, and she enjoyed sharing what she knew with the girl. She told her about the heart, how it pumps blood through the arteries, and about pulmonary and systemic circulation. This was where she could shine.

  After breakfast, Lily and Mirrie went to see the dressmakers. Lily proudly lifted up the culottes and blouse they had made for Miranda.

  “Put them on,” she said with a wink. The little girl needed no persuading. Lily shook her head. “You girls are just wonderful!”

  The culottes were so wide that even the strictest eye would find no fault. Only the tips of Mirrie’s little shoes peeked out from under the hem. The girls had gone a step further, attaching two long strips of fabric in the front and the back to hide the fact that the skirt was actually a pair of pants. They looked like decorative aprons and neatly hid the fact that the child was wearing pants, even when she took large steps. All in all, the effect was of a very fancy skirt.