Amber Sky (C.O.I.L.S Of Copper and Brass Book 1)

by Claire Warner

  “How often do you think I can see the same beggar at my door before my staff begin to question?” A wry smile crossed his face. “I don’t trust them enough to not call the authorities.”

  “Alright.” A sense of unreality settled over Tay as she began to process just what had just occurred. Absolutely none of the scenarios she had envisioned had given her this possibility. “So, if I do this, will I have to live at their house?”

  “You will.” He was watching her carefully, as though he expected her to panic.

  “What about my brother and sister?” Her voice grew stronger as thoughts of her siblings began to swarm through her mind. “I can’t just leave them to fend for themselves.”

  “How old are they?” he asked mildly.

  “Lana is fifteen and Roj is ten,” she answered with a crisp finality. “They’re not old enough to draw father’s ration.” She folded her arms across her chest, challenging him. “You can’t expect me to just leave them.”

  “I’ll see what I can do about them,” he said, pushing himself away from the fountain’s edge. “But I can’t promise anything.” He adjusted the scarf around his neck as he spoke. “Nevertheless I’ll expect you at the Frazers’ tomorrow.”

  “Now, wait.” She stepped forward and placed her hand against his chest, stopping him from walking away. Angry at his assumption that she would obey him without question, she continued, “I never agreed…”

  “You want your father safe?” She froze at his words, her objections abruptly cut off by the threat in his voice. He glanced at her hand on his chest, and she removed it, unnerved by the cold glint in his gaze.

  “What?” Tay felt her heart sink as she tried to process just what he had said.

  “I have just signed a transfer order,” he continued, his eyes not leaving her face. “It ordered your father removed from the coal face and sent to work in the administration building.” His voice was low, threatening and she stepped away from him, unnerved by the coolness in his eyes. “He is as far away from the danger of the Mine as he can possibly be.” He took a step toward her, closing the gap between them. “If that transfer is scrutinised, my head is on the block.” His voice was almost a whisper now, and she could feel the darkness behind it. “As I told you yesterday, I do not stick my neck out for nothing.” His hand reached up and came to rest on her shoulder. “I should think you would be willing to endure some hardship to pay me my due.”

  “But…” Her voice was a breathless whisper as he backed her to the edge of the garden.

  “I said I would see what I could do.” He loomed over her, his fingers gently resting against her collarbone. “I will try to arrange something concerning your siblings.” He released her. “I can’t make promises, but either way, I want to see you at the Frazers’ tomorrow morning.” He stepped back and began to turn away. “If you don’t show up, I may rescind that transfer.” He looked back at her. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” she uttered, misery in her voice. “I understand.”

  “Good.” Darius flipped the collar of his coat up and turned back to the path. “The Frazers’ will expect you at eight, wear the new clothes I gave you.” And with that, he walked away from the fountain and headed back through the park.

  Tay watched him walk into the distance, her heart thumping painfully in her chest. The weight of his words settled heavily on her mind, yet her skin tingled from the contact of his fingers. She had the distinct feeling that she had just struck a deal with the devil. Darius could potentially talk her into anything by holding her father’s fate over her head. Bowing her head, she stared down at the overly-large gloves that still covered her hands. For one moment, Darius had appeared to display a soul, but his threat burned her to her very core. She would have to go to the Frazers’ house the following morning and hope that he would hold up his end of the bargain. Picking herself up from the frozen ground, she began to walk home, dread weighing down every step.

  The kitchen fire had burned down to ash when she finally walked through the doors of her home. Stepping into the kitchen, she added another handful of coal to the dying fire and used the poker to stir it into life. For a moment, she stayed still, watching the flame lick the edges of the fresh coal, as the fire began to burn once more. The amber and gold flames danced before her eyes as she allowed her mind to drift back to the meeting. What on earth could he want so badly that he would insist on her taking a job at the house next door? She sat down on the chair before the fire and nibbled her lip, running scenarios through her head. He didn’t want her for sex, of that she was fairly sure. She had given him the perfect opportunity, and he had turned her down. Granted this could be an elaborate ruse, but she didn’t think so. He had seemed sincere in his denial of her. She pushed a strand of hair away from her face and began to think about the job. In some way, she could see it as a blessing. She would never have obtained such a position without the assistance.

  Schooling was mandatory to the age of sixteen, and ration could not be paid to those underage. Promising students were removed from local schools at a young age and re-educated at the prosaically named, but restrictive capital city of Riverton. Once educated, and a lot older, these students would return to be the area’s doctors and engineers, with the appropriate money and privileges. Students left in local education had few options once school ended. The Factory was the primary employer in the area, but the rations paid were tiny and barely enough to sustain a family. The merchants in the district fared better; they were paid in actual money, making it easier for them to trade with other settlements and cities. Merchant families were dynasties, handing their businesses to their children and grandchildren and increasing their wealth through marriage. Service to the wealthier families was considered more stable than factory toil and far less demanding, as it not only came with an increased ration and accommodation, but they also paid in money. As such, these jobs were in high demand and rare. You could only obtain these jobs if you were taken up by an agency, and they usually recruited straight from the school system. Biddable pupils with little or no trouble on their school record were placed on the list of potential staff. Without an agency’s acceptance, there was only the Factory, or even worse, the Mine.

  If she were in a charitable mood, she would attribute his actions to some altruistic impulse on his part, but she was far too concerned about his motives to believe that. The kitchen door opened, sending a freezing gust of air through the tiny room.

  “Is everything alright Tay?” Roj walked through the door, his hair tousled from the weather outside. Tay stood up, schooling her expression into one of calm unconcern.

  “Everything’s fine,” she replied with a smile. “Why don’t you shut the door.” He closed the door and walked across the kitchen. Tay watched him with concealed worry as he sat down at the table. Despite the ragged layers that bulked out his frame, her brother was thinner than she would have liked. “Something to eat?” she asked as she moved to the pantry and drew out a small joint of salted beef and several puny carrots. Closing the door on the pitifully small selection of food, she turned back to the table and began to slice the meat into bite-sized chunks. “Take your coat off and start on the potatoes.”

  Roj nodded as he pulled his outer coat from his body and hung it next to the fire. Walking across to the pantry, he picked up a handful of the misshapen potatoes and began to wash them.

  “So how was school?” she asked, trying to find some normalcy in amongst the mess that their lives had recently become.

  “The same,” he replied, scrubbing the clods of dirt from the stunted potatoes as he gingerly held them beneath the jet of icy water from the tap. “Andrew Hazleton got docked ten points for graffiti.” He sliced the washed potatoes in half and placed them into a pot. Picking up a couple more potatoes, he continued, “They’re saying he won’t make the list.”

  Tay glanced over at her brother. Making the list was a significant advantage. It showed that you had the mental capacity for engineering
or science and that meant a transfer. She shook her head at the Andrew Hazleton’s idiocy. She would have killed to be able to make the list.

  “Where are you?” That was a more important question. With Andrew losing the ten points, it was likely that those further back in the rankings could move forward. Not that she particularly liked having to dance to the tune of the leadership, but starving for ideals seemed stupid. If Roj made the list, the authorities could ignore the negative rating imposed by their father’s arrest. It didn’t often happen, but gifted students had the chance to be elevated beyond their family. Though, with a mother dead in the food riots and a father arrested for sabotage, it was highly unlikely. She placed the meat into the pot and added some water.

  “Fifteen points below,” her brother answered, picking up the last of the potatoes. “Is that all there is?” he asked, looking at the empty tray.

  “Unfortunately.” Tay placed the pot on the stove. “Potato grubs ate half the crop.” Her lip set in a thin line as she began slicing the carrots. Adding the slices to the pot, she reached back into the pantry for the small bowl of pearl barley. The pantry was depressingly bare. Ration for the Mine was even less than ration for the Factory, and the Centre was very on the ball when it came to allocation. With the poor harvest, they could starve before the spring. Placing the last of the carrots into the pot, she came to a decision. She would have to take Darius up on his offer. It was that or starve. As the stew began to bubble, she hoped that she was making the right choice.

  Chapter 3

  Tay stood in the kitchen of the Frazers’ house and waited for the housekeeper to arrive. Still cold from the bitter conditions outside, her fingers tingled from the warmth of the kitchen. The itch beneath the skin intensifying as the blood returned to the numb digits. She stood awkwardly by the door, her eyes taking in the sights and sounds of the room with wonder. A large stove heated the space and provided scalding hot water. A long table dominated the room, it’s wooden surface scrubbed clean and laid with pots, pans and other utensils. Against the walls, cupboards loaded with food and other items commanded her vision. When one of the cooks opened the pantry, she stared with open wonder at the sight of the fully stocked shelves. Controlling her desire to drool, she shuffled her feet and looked down at the well-scrubbed, tile floor. As she waited for the housekeeper, she thought back to the previous evening and the conversation with her siblings. Lana had been sceptical of the plan, as she expected, but Roj was surprisingly encouraging. He had pointed out that as Tay’s rating had been badly affected by their father’s arrest, the best opportunity she could hope for was Line Operative at the Factory. Correctly summarising the dilemma, he noted that even if she couldn’t stay with them, her new employers couldn’t stop her from visiting or drawing ration. Encouraged by her brother, Lana had reluctantly admitted that as they spent so much time at school, there wasn’t an issue with them being home alone for too long.

  “Besides”－Lana had said, toward the end of the conversation－“If you go to the Factory, you will be away just as much.”

  That was the end of the discussion and, armed with her siblings’ approval, she had made the journey this morning in the cold.

  “Ahh. Here we are.” Tay looked up as the bustling form of the housekeeper reached her side. “Carfax just confirmed your appointment.” She waved the typed piece of paper like a banner. “I understand you have ration responsibilities?” Tay nodded, wondering just how much clout Darius really had. “You are released from duty every Thursday afternoon so that you may collect ration.”

  “Thank you,” Tay stuttered out, wondering just what that piece of paper said.

  “Of course you are still expected back on Friday morning.” The housekeeper slid the piece of paper back into her pocket. “Well, now that’s out of the way, we’re ready to go.” Turning back to the kitchen, she beckoned, “Come with me.”

  Tay picked up her satchel and followed the other woman as she led her across the room.

  “Now, your duties are simple,” the housekeeper called as they reached a door. “Washing dishes and pans,” she recounted as they walked into a plainly decorated, narrow hallway. “The laundry, and lighting the kitchen fire.” Moving quickly toward the stairs, Tay had to hurry to keep up with her. “That means you have to be an early riser.” Tay nodded as she tried to keep pace with the long legged woman. Almost tripping up the next flight of stairs, she tried to follow what the woman was saying next.

  “I don’t expect you to have anything to do with the family,” Tay heard as she steadied herself with the bannister, “and there’s no reason at all for you to be in the main house.” She moved up another flight of stairs. “If I find you in any of the family rooms, you will lose this position.” The woman stopped abruptly and glared down at her. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” Tay breathed finally, stunned by the sudden antagonism in the woman’s voice.

  “Sometimes, the Master or any of his family will visit the kitchen.” The housekeeper turned and continued up the next flight of stairs. “When they do, I expect you to stay in the scullery unless specifically asked for.”

  Tay nodded, stumbling up the next flight of steps with inexplicably clumsy feet. They reached the top step and the housekeeper turned right. Leading Tay along the narrow corridor and past several closed doors, they finally stopped in front of the last door on the left.

  “In here.” She removed a heavy key from the bunch at her side and unlocked the door. The room beyond was small and cramped-looking. A small window tucked into the eaves provided minimal light and revealed a small bed, a nightstand with a cracked pitcher and bowl, and a single chest for her clothing. Spread across her bed were two uniforms of rigid gabardine and cotton.

  “Now”－The housekeeper turned about and handed her the key－“This is your room.” Tay shoved it into a pocket, the heavy piece of metal banging into her leg as she let go. “Get cleaned up and make yourself presentable, then come back downstairs to start work.”

  Tay nodded and glanced back at the uniform. The material was sturdy and considerably warmer than the clothes that she was currently wearing.

  “Wait.” She called as the housekeeper turned to leave the room. “What do I call you?”

  “Mrs. Mitchell,” she called back over her shoulder as she walked through the door, and closed it behind her, leaving Tay standing in the middle of her room. For a moment she stood still, staring at her new bedroom. The room was cold and impersonal. The iron-framed bed looked hard and uncomfortable, and the window provided only a bare minimum of light, but she had accommodation and the potential to earn money. She crossed to the bed and climbed onto its starched surface, using the height to stare out of the window to the frozen yard below. She caught her breath. Standing in the garden below, the now familiar figure of Darius looked up at her, a tiny, knowing smile playing about his lips. She drew back sharply and closed the curtains, wondering just how he had managed to get her employed. Her father’s friends had said that he could transfer people but had mentioned nothing about his other skills. Not for the first time in two days, she wondered what she had gotten herself into with the Overseer’s son.

  Climbing off the bed, she looked down at the uniform. Slowly, with shaking hands, she removed her threadbare garb and quickly washed. Drying herself with the rough towel she discovered in one of the drawers, she dressed quickly, the chill air of the bedroom raising goosebumps on her skin.

  Once fully clothed in the cumbersome uniform, she pulled on the pair of shoes and headed back down the stairs to the kitchen. The room was a hive of activity as she shyly walked through the door.

  “Ah, there you are.” A short, dumpy woman walked toward her, flour was dusted all over her apron, and her hands were covered with pastry. “I’m Meg, the assistant cook.” She looked down at her messy hands and shrugged. “I would offer to shake but…”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Tay replied, smiling at the other woman. “I’m Taya, but people usually call
me Tay.”

  “Good to see you.” Meg walked past her and picked up a pitcher of water from the side. “I’d start on the breakfast pans if I were you,” she continued, as she moved back to the large basin sitting in the centre of the table. “And be quick about it.”

  “Right,” Tay replied as she walked past the table, and toward the scullery door.

  “They’re on that side,” Meg called just as she entered the room. Tay turned back to the kitchen and the pile of pans that were stacked on the worktop nearest the stove. An embarrassed flush flooded Tay’s cheeks, as she moved to pick up the grease-encrusted pans. Stacking them easily within her hands, she moved back into the scullery and set them in the sink.

  “So where did you come from?” Tay jumped as a voice sounded from somewhere behind her, and she whirled around. Another girl walked out of the corner and stood before her. Dressed in the same black and white uniform she was wearing, the girl’s heart-shaped face smiled at her from beneath a fringe of strawberry-blonde hair.

  “Carfax.”

  “We’re all from Carfax,” the other girl answered in a slow, slightly mocking tone. “I meant, where do you live?”

  “Oh”－Tay flushed slightly－“I’m from Westford.” She gave the name of her street, hoping that it matched the information on her transfer. The other girl said nothing as she processed the information, but a mocking, slightly supercilious smile curved her lips.

  “Really?” she asked, her voice revealing volumes of meaning in that one small word. Tay gritted her teeth and tried not to look at the ground. Westford did not have the best reputation in the city, and it was clear that this girl was not impressed by her address. “Where do you come from?” Tay threw the question back at the other girl, unwilling to be cowed by her.

  “Larkway,” the other girl replied, naming one of the areas in the city closest to the Merchants’ District. Larkway was slightly better off than some other parts of the city. Its population were mainly servants of the merchant houses, and as such, they assumed a superior air to the rest of the slum. It was evident from the girl’s tones that she considered herself a cut above Tay and her humbler surroundings.