“What can we do?” Brine asked.
The Messenger shrugged. “Your home, your decision. Want my advice? Pack up and leave town before next new moon.”
* * *
Lesa left the house the next morning to help train recruits for the militia. On one thing, Selia and Jeorje were in agreement. They would be corespawned before they abandoned Tibbet’s Brook to the corelings.
A moment later, there was a knock at the door. Selia answered to find Tender Harral wringing his hands and looking decidedly uncomfortable.
Selia tsked. “How long were you waiting, hoping she’d leave?”
“Long enough,” Harral said.
Selia sighed and opened the door wider. “Might as well come in before she gets back. I’ll put a fresh kettle on.”
“Thank you,” Harral said.
“Stewert never told you I was a square girl?” Selia asked. “Night, the square girl?”
Harral shook his head. “Tender Stewert, Creator rest his spirit, died well before his time. Perhaps he meant to, when I was older.”
Indeed, Harral had been an acolyte barely in his twenties when his master died, leaving him Tender to seven hundred folk, not counting Southwatch. He’d stumbled in the beginning, but found wisdom in later years. Selia held out hope it extended to this.
“Selia—” Harral began.
“Creator made me, same as you,” Selia cut in. “Must’ve had a reason why He made me see boys as friends and girls as—”
Harral held up a hand, forestalling her, but she pressed. “Can’t even hear the words? Doesn’t bode well, Tender.”
“I know you, Selia,” Harral said. “Know your heart. Know how you look to the folk of this town like your own children. That’s why I’ve come. Make sure you’ve thought this through.”
Selia poured the tea and set a cup in front of the Tender, not offering sugar or a cookie. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve fifty winters on that girl,” Harral said.
“And Jeorje has ninety on his latest bride,” Selia said. “Stam’s got thirty on Maddy Fisher.”
Harral gestured at Selia with his mug. “Ay, and Selia Speaker always judged them for it. Never approved of Jeorje taking more than one wife, or of—night—anything Stam Tailor does.”
It was true enough, and Selia crossed her arms defensively. “Ent an excess of seventy-winter square girls in Tibbet’s Brook, Tender. Magic’s given me a new life. Sayin’ I should spend it alone?”
Harral spread his arms, drawing attention to his plain brown robe. “Ent the only one had to give that up, Selia. Think I ent got urges? But I don’t act on them, for the good of this town. Folk deserve a Holy Man who keeps his vows.”
“Ay,” Selia agreed. “Vows mean something. But I din’t pledge my life to the Creator, Harral. What’s me being alone got to do with the good of this town?”
“Folk look to you for an example,” Harral said. “What’s this say to them?”
“That I’ve a heart to love?” Selia asked. “That I ent barren, no matter what folk whisper at my back? That life’s bigger’n the box we put it in?”
Harral blew out a breath. “Is your happiness worth more than Lesa’s parents’?”
“They come to you?” Selia asked.
“Don’t blame them, Selia,” Harral said. “Only want what’s best for their girl. Wanted to know what the Canon says—if she’ll be denied Heaven.”
“I was reading the Canon before you were born, Tender,” Selia said. “Ent kind to square folk, but doesn’t say we can’t find Heaven.”
“Ay, and that’s what I told them,” Harral said. “We’re all the Creator’s children, and it’s our duty to love and stand by one another, sunrise and sunset. But—”
Selia’s brows knit together. “Bein’ real patient with you, Tender. Pick your next words careful.”
“Folk talk, Selia,” Harral said. “Word’s spreading like fire through the Brook. Just rumors now, but it won’t take long to confirm if you two carry on as you’ve done.”
“Sooner the better,” Selia said. “Secrets fester, and this one’s had fifty years. Time it was lanced.”
“Lot of folk don’t approve,” Harral said. “Makin’ up stories about why you really stood by Renna Tanner.”
Selia balled a fist. “Never laid a finger on that girl. You—”
Harral put up his hands. “Told ’em it was tampweed talk, but I don’t have to tell you folk don’t always listen to their Tender. Lots standing by you, but others are grumblin’, worrying about this . . . spreadin’.”
“Ent a flux, Harral,” Selia snapped. “It’s who I am.”
“We are who we choose to be, Selia,” Harral said.
Selia took the cup from his hands. “Time you chose to be out of my house, then.”
“Ent your enemy, Selia.” Harral pushed back his chair and got to his feet. “But Raddock’s got the Fishers in a stir; the Marshes are refusing to come to Town Square, and the Watches . . .”
“Know all about the Watches.” Selia gave him a gentle but firm push toward the door.
“Raddock’s called a council meeting,” Harral said.
Selia froze. “Ay?”
“First morning of new moon,” Harral said. “Says we can’t afford to face it with you as Town Speaker.”
* * *
“Can he do that?” Lesa asked.
“Any Speaker can call a vote of no confidence,” Selia said.
“Don’t matter.” Lesa took Selia’s hand. “Folk don’t like what they don’t understand, but they understand Raddock Lawry turned this town upside down and got a spankin’ from Arlen Bales for it. They understand you’ve bled for the Brook ever since. Ent no way they’ll take him over you.”
“Night, girl!” Selia pulled her hand away. “Ent Raddock rippin’ Lawry we need to worry about. It’s Jeorje.”
Lesa crossed her arms. “Folk don’t want to dye all their clothes black, give up ale and sugar, and go to the Holy House every day, neither.”
“What they want is to not get et by corelings,” Selia said. “Jeorje’s got Soggy Marsh and Fishing Hole under his protection. That’s half the folk in town right there. Just a few from the other boroughs vote for him . . .”
“They won’t. They can’t.” Lesa sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as Selia.
Selia told herself the same thing over and over in the coming days. She didn’t hide that Lesa was staying in her house now, but neither did she flaunt it, keeping the girl with the others of the militia when they continued to scour the Brook at night.
But on the morning of new moon, when every fit man in Southwatch arrived in Town Square, grim-faced and with spear in hand, she knew it was already too late.
“Night,” Lesa breathed.
“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Selia said. “Ent the first time the Watches marched into Town Square looking for a fight.”
4
Far as We Need
284 ar
The Watches stopped bringing their children to Town Square on market day, but it didn’t make Selia’s job any easier. Without supplies and labor from Southwatch, work slowed to a crawl rebuilding the schoolhouse, and without Anjy, Raddock, and Deardra to help teach, the bulk of the extra work fell on Selia.
She took it in her stride, refusing to let problems of her making deny the children of Tibbet’s Brook a proper education. She didn’t know what rumors spread in Southwatch, but the rest of town acted as if nothing was amiss. The Watches had always been queer folk, prone to righteous fits, and the Fishers hadn’t expected their Speaker’s children to teach reading and arithmetic forever.
Selia rang the great bell, signaling the end of classes for the day. As the children filed out, Lory handed Selia a covered basket. “Jahn Messenger leaves this afternoon with his caravan. Made them butter cookies for the ride. Make sure to deliver them before you tend the shopping.”
Selia took the basket, finding Jahn and
her father talking amiably as the last of the Duke’s rice, lumber, produce, and fish was loaded onto the carts. Jahn cut an impressive figure in his armor, polished to shine in the midday sun. Isak Fisher was with them, Raddock at his heel.
She slowed her approach, wondering if she might delay until they left, but the Messenger caught sight of her. “Selia! Come give Uncle Jahn a hug before I tread into the naked night!”
He swept Selia off her feet, and even the glares of Raddock and Isak could not keep a smile from her face. Jahn had been Edwar’s apprentice long ago and was treated like family when he came to town. He crushed her to his breastplate, the smell of oil and metal and leather so like her father’s that his embrace felt like home.
Jahn set her down. “Getting hard to lift you from your feet, girl. Grown tall as your father. Give good strong children to the Brook.”
Isak coughed.
“Wouldn’t be sure of that,” Raddock grumbled.
Jahn cast an irritated glance his way. Raddock was wise enough to drop his eyes, and Jahn let it go. “Do I smell your mother’s butter cookies?”
Selia excused herself quickly, wanting to be far from the Fishers. It was late afternoon, but there were still a handful of Watches in the market making last-minute purchases. A group of them noticed her and turned their backs. Creator only knew what Jeorje had told them. She drifted to another row of stalls before anyone took note.
The sight greeting her there was no better. Peat Orchard offering a shiny apple to Deardra Fisher with an exaggerated bow. “. . . almost as sweet as you.”
Single young men courting Deardra, so pretty and well monied, was nothing new. But no one ever caught her attention, despite her claims of wanting a husband. Even Peat got little more than an eye roll and a patient smile—until Deardra spotted Selia.
“Always the charmer.” She gave Peat a delighted laugh and her hand lingered on his as she took the fruit, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Blushing, Peat was oblivious to the self-satisfied smirk Deardra threw Selia’s way.
Selia turned before Deardra could see the look on her face. It shouldn’t have stung, but Deardra’s betrayal couldn’t dim the memories of their time together. Perhaps Deardra felt the same, and that was why she led so many boys on without a promise.
Wasn’t so simple to stop being a square girl.
The day was wearing on and most folk were packing up against the coming dusk as Selia finished her rounds. She walked by Bil Square’s stall to say hello, but there was only his mother Neta, haggling with Coran Marsh.
“A barrel of rice for a rippin’ quilt?!” Coran cried. “You spin the thread from gold?”
“Quiltin’s harder than havin’ kids stick rice seedlings in the marsh,” Neta shot back.
“Psst! Selia!” Bil hissed as Selia hurried by. He was beckoning from behind the stall, in the same secluded spot where she had confronted Raddock not long ago.
“What is it?” Selia whispered, glancing to make sure she wasn’t seen before moving to join him.
She barely registered Anjy Watch before the girl threw her arms around Selia, nearly making her drop her basket. She stiffened for a moment, then fell into the embrace, holding tight and burying her face in Anjy’s hair, breathing deeply of her scent.
“What are you doing here?” Selia kept her voice low as they pulled apart. Her eyes widened as she took in Anjy’s left eye, purple and swollen shut, and her right one, blackened. Her nose was twice its normal size, dried blood caked at the nostrils.
“Who did this?” Selia gripped the basket so hard the wicker dug into her fist.
Anjy dropped her gaze. “My . . . husband.”
Something sour squirmed in the pit of Selia’s stomach. It had only been a few weeks. Anjy was already married? “What did your grandfather say, when he saw?”
“That I had it comin’,” Anjy said. “That runnin’ from sin wasn’t enough, so it had to be beat from me.”
“Creator,” Bil murmured.
Selia felt a growl building in her throat. “Anyone know you’re here?”
Anjy shook her head. “Snuck out the window, and it’s nearing dusk. Don’t think any in the market saw me, but Grandfather will come looking for me in the morning.”
“And he’ll know right where to look.” Selia lifted the shawl around Anjy’s shoulders up over her head. “But we can’t stay here. Bil, be a dear and fetch Sallie Trigg. Ask her to come to the Speaker’s house on the quick.”
“Ay, Selia.” Bil ran off as Selia made sure the path was clear and ushered Anjy along. The weather was chill enough that a head shawl was not so unusual, but they moved as quickly as possible past other folk and took a back path to her house.
“Selia, what . . . ?” Lory’s question died on her lips as Selia pulled the shawl back and she took in Anjy’s appearance. “Here, girl,” Selia’s mother pulled out a chair at the kitchen table, “let me get a cool cloth for your face.” She looked to Selia. “Have you—”
“Sent Bil to fetch Sallie. Is Da . . . ?”
The front door opened, admitting Edwar, Sallie, and Bil. Her father had no words as he watched Sallie tend to Anjy’s face, but his balled fists said it all.
“Da, we can’t let them—” Selia began.
Edwar silenced her with a raised hand. “We won’t.” He sat across from Anjy, his deep voice gentle and soothing. “Know it ent easy to talk about, Anjy, but I need to know who it was that hit you.”
“My husband.” Anjy bit her lip, trying to hold back tears. “Obi Watch.”
The growl that had been building in Selia’s throat broke free at last.
“Obi has more than fifty winters,” Sallie said. “Man like that blessed with a wife less’n half his age should be thanking the Creator, not raising his hand.”
“That’s undersaid,” Lory agreed.
“Nose is broke,” Sallie said, “but there ent much for it but to rest and keep a cold compress on it till the swelling goes down. I’ll work on a splint to see it heals straight.” She ran a hand along Anjy’s side, and the girl winced. Sallie looked at Bil. “Run along home now, Bil. Turn your back, Edwar.”
Edwar dropped the bar across the door after Bil left, facing the kitchen window with his arms crossed and back turned. Sallie undid the fastenings and lowered Anjy’s dress, revealing bruises—some dark and fresh, others yellowed and half healed.
“Night,” Lory whispered.
“Nothin’ else broken,” Sallie said when her examination was finished. “Best let the girl rest.”
“She can sleep in my bed,” Selia blurted. When her parents turned, she dropped her eyes. “I’ll sleep in the common.”
Edwar nodded. The sun was setting as Sallie hurried off home. Lory helped Anjy get cleaned up and into a nightdress, bringing her supper in bed. The rest of them ate in silence. Edwar’s face was dark, and Selia and her mother knew better than to press him when he had that look.
Selia tossed and turned on the common-room floor after the lamps were turned down, waiting until her father’s snores could be heard from the bedroom. Then she got up and slipped quietly into Anjy’s room.
“Starting to think you weren’t coming,” Anjy said in the darkness.
“Caused enough trouble in that bed,” Selia said. “Ent looking to make it worse.”
“How’s that?” Anjy asked. “You didn’t make me marry a fat old man who hits me. You didn’t tell Raddock Fisher he had a claim to your hand just because he’s got a rich da. You didn’t force Deardra to be a square girl against her will.”
She reached out, fingers grasping in the darkness until she found Selia’s hand. “What Selia Square did was run into the naked night and save me from corelings.” She squeezed tight. “And make me feel like I wasn’t alone.”
Selia laid her free hand over the one Anjy held. “You ent. My da will fix this.”
“Won’t,” Anjy said. “Grandfather ent one to let a thing go. Bring men with him come morning. Kick in the door and take me.”
“Already got it figured,” Anjy said. “Going to the Free Cities.”
Selia was glad of the darkness, hiding her gape. “Can’t be serious.”
“Didn’t come today by accident,” Anjy said. “Messenger’s caravan just left, but they’ve got carts to haul. We cut across the Brook, we can get ahead of them up the road, too far to turn back before night. They’ll camp on the way to Sunny Pasture, and we can hide in the carts.”
It was a mad plan, but Selia barely registered it, her thoughts locking onto a single word. “We?”
“Go alone if I have to. Ent two thousand souls in the Brook. Hundred times as many in the Free Cities, the Jongleur’s tales are true. Got to be square girls there.” Anjy squeezed her hand again. “But I don’t want any of them, there’s a chance Selia Square wants me.”
Selia choked. Only in her dreams had she heard such words. “Don’t need to run to the ends of the world to be together, Anjy. Said it yourself. We didn’t do any wrong. Why should we leave while they get to stay?”
“So no one else gets hurt over this,” Anjy said.
“And if it’s us that get hurt?” Selia asked. “What if we can’t find the caravan before the sun sets? Corelings won’t care who’s wrong and who’s right.”
“Your da was a Messenger,” Anjy said. “He still have his portable ward circle?”
“Ay,” Selia said. “Gonna rob my da, on top of taking his daughter?”
Anjy pulled her hand back, and it was like she took a part of Selia with it. “Ent taking you, Selia. Ent Obi Watch or Raddock Fisher. Don’t own you and you don’t own me. Want you to come, but it’s your choice.”
There was a silence, and then whispered words in the darkness, almost too quiet to hear. “Love you, Selia Square.”
Selia felt her chest constrict, and blew out a shuddering breath. She groped in the darkness, finding Anjy’s hand and gripping tight. “Love you, Anjy Watch. Run with you. Far as we need. Just askin’ you to wait. Give my da time to sort things.”
Barren Page 8
