The Button Girl

by Sally Apokedak

  Repentance looked shyly at him.

  "Me?" she asked.

  "No, you're not funny," he answered looking at her with a kind of strange, hungry look. "I can assure you, you're not funny."

  She blushed. "You were asking me if I wanted to know something funny?"

  "Oh, you are funny, after all. Yes, I was asking you. Who else? You don't suppose my uncle likes to laugh, do you? Can't you see what a sour face he has?" He cocked an eyebrow.

  His insolence was shocking.

  He continued, apparently feeling no reproach from her shocked expression. "What's really funny is when someone turns off the hot water that washes over the top of the frozen pond. The children come to a screeching halt in seconds. The water freezes and they are stuck solid."

  Repentance tried to picture such a scene.

  The prince was laughing. "Small children waving their arms around and screaming hysterically." He waved his arms around to demonstrate. "Help, help!"

  "Their mothers didn't find it as entertaining as you did," the king said. "The cook quit."

  "But Uncle, you have only yourself to blame for that," the prince said. "A king shouldn't allow his servants to quit."

  "When the prince freezes a child's feet to a pond so they get ice-burned, it would hardly be fitting for the king to make the mother continue to cook for the young ne'er do well."

  The prince frowned. "I don't see why not. The king owns the child's feet. He should do as he pleases with them."

  "Yes, and the king was pleased to provide healing treatments for those feet. Do you question my rights in the matter, or only my wisdom?"

  "Neither, Uncle," the prince said turning away to gaze out the window. "You are all sovereign and wise and ever may you receive honor and glory," he muttered.

  The king's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. He pulled out his flask and took a swig.

  As the carriage approached the palace Repentance ducked down and looked out the window, so she could see the top of the palace towers, which soared into the blue sky like giant icy cliffs. "So tall!"

  "The palace is five stories," the king said, "with the towers going up four stories beyond that."

  The face of the building was carved in elegant scrolling patterns, while sculpted dragon hunters guarded the main doors.

  The carriage halted and the king stepped down first. He waved the footman away and turned to help Repentance down himself.

  The prince tucked his leather pouch under one arm and stepped out in front of Repentance. "Thank you, Your Majesty," he said, taking the king's hand.

  As he let go, he gave the king a little jerk, pulling him off-balance.

  The footman caught the king and steadied him.

  The king slapped the footman away, as if offended that anyone would think he needed help standing on his own two feet. Then he helped Repentance from the carriage and led her up the wide palace steps.

  "Here's Provocation," the king said indicating an old slave woman standing in the doorway, dressed in a fine gown. "She is head over the affairs of the house. If you are in need of anything, you may go to her."

  The prince brushed past the woman and into the house.

  The king squinted at the prince's back for a moment, then turned his attention to Provocation. "I've brought home a friend," the king said. "This is Repentance. She's to have the queen's chamber."

  Provocation's eyes widened for a moment before she bowed her head serenely.

  Repentance was much less composed. The queen's chamber!

  "And, send Biased to me," the king said. "I want to get out of this dratted turban. Makes my head itch." Turning to Repentance, he added, "I'll expect you for dinner." Without waiting for an answer, he strutted down the hall to the left with an energy Repentance knew did not come easily. He was acting like a strong and healthy king.

  "Follow me." Provocation looked as wrinkly as an old-mother, but not half as friendly. She marched ahead of Repentance, her back as straight and hard as Hatcher's Cliff, back home.

  They turned to the right. As they rounded the corner, they almost stumbled on the prince who was squatting in the middle of the hall. A boy, who looked to be in about his seventh year, sat on the floor in front of the prince. Parchment pages were strewn around the two.

  Provocation stopped abruptly and Repentance barely stopped in time to keep from knocking the older woman off her feet.

  "I'm sorry," the boy said.

  Repentance couldn't see his face. His head was bowed. He began to collect up stray sheets of parchment.

  "You know better than to run in the hallways, Tigen," the prince answered angrily.

  "I have been told many times," the boy said. "I keep forgetting." He scooped up a page and glanced at its contents.

  Provocation and Repentance both stooped to help collect stray papers.

  "No," the prince said to Provocation. "Leave them."

  The boy picked up another page. "You are going to take slaves my age?" he asked, reading from the sheet he held. "Will they come to the palace?"

  "Give me that!" The prince said, grabbing the sheet.

  "It says you're taking all the boys—"

  "Provocation," the prince said. "I'm sure my uncle's new concubine is tired. You should take her to her quarters. Tigen is capable of picking up the pages he knocked loose."

  Provocation bowed. She and Repentance skirted the mess and continued down the hall.

  Tigen's voice followed them. "That page said you were taking all the lowborn boys from their sixth year to their fourteenth year."

  Repentance gasped. That would include both of her little brothers.

  "Will any of them come here?" Tigen continued.

  Provocation and Repentance took a right-hand turn and Repentance stooped down to fiddle with her slipper.

  "Can you not read?" the prince said. "That was a provision for the Ministry of War. They are going to the trooper camps to be trained for front-line soldiers. I've told you before that I don't want you playing with them, anyway, Tigen. Your interest in slaves is unnatural."

  Provocation looked around. Repentance jumped up and trotted to catch up. The two continued a long ways, taking several more turns. Repentance, thinking about her brothers being trained as front-line soldiers, couldn't concentrate on the path they took or the countless doors they passed.

  Finally the old slave woman stopped and threw open the door to a big room, its floor covered with thick, soft, buttery-colored carpet. In the center was a bed piled high with quilts.

  Repentance stood in the doorway, closed her eyes, and breathed in, trying to regain her balance.

  But the prince was going to take Fullness and Restoration. There was no balance in the world. It was hopelessly tipped in favor of the overlords.

  "Well go on." Provocation said. "I can't stand all day in the hallway with you. Some of us have work to do."

  Repentance opened her eyes and stepped into her new quarters. The room was richly furnished and smelled sweet and spicy. A hearth sat in one corner. It would be lovely and homey once a fire was lit. In front of the fireplace sat several stuffed chairs with small tables in between. On the wall to the left were three windows.

  She crossed the room, approaching one window, and looked over the grounds toward the front gates, wondering where the trooper camp was and who the overlords were at war with. What made them need to take lowborn boys for soldiers?

  Warmth flooded through the window and Repentance reached out and touched the clear ice pane.

  Pain bit at her fingertip as if she'd touched red-hot iron.

  She yanked her hand away and stuck her finger in her mouth.

  "A good lesson," Provocation said, her voice deep and scratchy. "The ice is so cold it burns the skin."

  Yes, she'd discovered that. It would have been nice if Provocation had warned her a little earlier.

  She crossed to the opposite wall. Carved in relief, with bright paint frozen on top, was a city scene, depicting houses and markets and
streets full of wagons. On the sidewalks were merchants raking their stoops or hanging signs, and fine ladies in colorful gowns. The detail was incredible. She would love to show Comfort.

  She turned away with a sigh, holding her stomach. Missing Comfort felt like a physical pain. And now to hear that the little boys ….

  She crossed to the bed and sat. She wanted to lie down and cry. She felt sick and dizzy and a little bit like she wanted to throw up.

  Provocation glared at Repentance, as if offended by her presence. She turned and threw open the doors of the wardrobe which stood in the corner opposite the fireplace.

  Empty.

  "I didn't know you were coming." She said it like a rebuke. "I'll send for the seamstress tomorrow."

  Fear prickled Repentance's scalp. The housekeeper was as cranky as an old-mother with fish nets to pick in mosquito season.

  Provocation closed the wardrobe and continued acquainting Repentance with the room. "Your desk." She pointed to an oak desk, its top polished to a shine.

  "Your bathing room, here." She opened a door revealing a large room with a small pool in the floor. "You share with the king. His sleeping chamber is through that door, there." She pointed across the bathing room. Repentance leaned forward to see.

  "I'll send Generosity to help you get ready for dinner. She'll be your maid."

  "I'm to have a maid?" She looked at her huge bed, covered in soft, fluffy quilts. Draped overhead, hanging down around the bed, was gauzy material. Repentance rubbed it between her fingers. The material oozed warmth. Everything about the room was rich and comfortable. Of course she would have a maid.

  Provocation studied her. "How old are you, child?"

  "I am barely in my sixteenth year."

  The old slave shook her head and clucked her tongue. "What possessed him to take a concubine now? At his age!"

  Repentance gave a slight shrug.

  "Yes, you have a maid." Provocation said. "Poor child. You know nothing of the ways of the mountain, I'll wager."

  "I would not be opposed to someone sharing the particulars with me."

  Provocation nodded. "You will grace his dinner table. You will go with him to parties. You will laugh at his jokes and hold on to his arm and gaze into his face as if there is nowhere you'd prefer to be."

  She smiled sadly at Repentance. "You'll dance with him. And when he requires it, you'll go to his bed and keep his old bones warm."

  Repentance said nothing. What could she say to such an embarrassing statement? But she was happy that, at least in one particular, Provocation was wrong. The old king did not like to share his bed.

  "You'll eat well. And you'll not do any work. You won't even dress yourself. But don't get used to it, child. It won't last. It never does with these nobles. A summer. Maybe a year. Another one will take your place and you'll be sold to another man or put into service in the household."

  Repentance's heart jumped. "How long has the king kept his other concubines?" She had to keep him happy, at least until Comfort came up in the slave cart.

  "And why now?" Provocation asked, ignoring Repentance and apparently speaking to herself. "He's never taken a concubine before." She looked at Repentance as if to see what it was about her that would make the king act so uncharacteristically. "We all assumed he was unable to ... unable to ... well, with his illness, we assumed he'd never take a concubine. Why now?"

  He said he was trying to save her, but she couldn't tell anyone that. She had to convince this old woman that the king really wanted a concubine.

  Provocation stood staring, as if waiting for an explanation.

  "Maybe he was waiting for the right girl," Repentance offered, meekly. "Maybe he was being careful and that's why it took so long for him to choose. Maybe now that he's found me, he means to keep me."

  Provocation harrumphed. "Yes, well, that's a lot of maybes all strung prettily together like gemstones on a necklace. In all my life I've yet to see a situation hanging on so many maybes turn out for good in the end."

  She left then, thank Providence, and took her grim predictions with her.

  Still, Repentance couldn't help but notice that the room was a little grayer and colder than she'd first thought.

  The old housekeeper had been gone only a moment when the door swished open and the prince stuck his head into her room. Without knocking!

  "Ah, getting nicely settled?" he asked.

  Fear coursed through her. She stared at him mutely.

  He smiled. "You are far too young and pretty to be stuck with a smelly old man like my uncle."

  She hadn't noticed an odor on the king. "Thank you, your highness," Her voice was no more than a whisper. "But I cannot accept such a compliment. It is untrue, and it comes at the expense of my master, besides."

  "And you're loyal as well." He nodded. "An admirable quality in a concubine. Very good. He can't live forever, can he? And then I'll inherit his throne. And his concubine. And I'm not sure but I'll enjoy the one as much as the other."

  He bowed and left her.

  She collapsed onto the floor in despair. The prince was apparently going to take her brothers and make them go to war. He would put them up front like peons in a game of Kings and Conquest, to be sacrificed for a cause they had no part of. And she could do nothing to stop him. She was stuck with an old king who did nothing but sign papers like an obedient child. And when he died?

  As hard as it was to comprehend, when the king died, things would get even worse for Repentance and her family.

  A harsh word, rashly spoken, can't be snatched back once it's been released upon the world. Consider carefully, then, before you open your mouth to instruct others.

  ~Mercy Atwater, wisdom passed on from

  mother to daughter and largely ignored

  Chapter 15

  Repentance had one hope. She might please the king and make him want to save her and her family. Surely he could tell the prince not to take Repentance's brothers. They were just two boys. The prince could live without two little slave boys. And the king could save Comfort, too, when she came up on the slave cart.

  If he lived that long.

  And if he lived long enough and she served him well enough, he might even let Repentance and her family go to one of those places Lord Carrull had spoken of. One of those states where slaves went free. He could do that before he died.

  Repentance pushed herself off the floor, went to the bathing room, and washed her face. She would work hard for the king and make him want to help her.

  She was leaving the bathing room when the maid arrived and drove the prince and his evil plans from her mind.

  Generosity was everything Provocation was not. She was young—in her eighteenth year—and jolly and talkative. She'd been sold as a slave when she'd failed to button. She told Repentance all about it as she bathed. Her intended button mate had died in an accident—they were from a logging village halfway up the mountain on the other side from Hot Springs—and all the other potential button mates in the village had been spoken for.

  Repentance found it harsh that Providence would take Generosity's button mate two months before the ceremony. If He'd waited until after the ceremony to take the young man, Generosity could have lived out her life with her family and cheated the overlords out of slave children. It would have been the perfect life. Sometimes Providence made no sense.

  But Generosity seemed not to mind. Her warm, brown eyes were quick to smile and she seemed genuinely happy to be taking care of Repentance.

  "I'll braid your hair for you when you go to the Moonlight Festival next month." She steered Repentance into a chair by a sunny window. "But for dinners here, you'll wear it long and loose."

  "Moonlight Festival?"

  "You didn't keep the festivals to Providence in your village?" Generosity asked as she began to brush her long, wet hair.

  None that had to do with moonlight, anyway. Or sunlight, for that matter. But she didn't feel like explaining about the fog generated by
the hot springs and how she'd grown up without heavenly lights. "Not the Moonlight Festival, no," she said.

  "We have the Moonlight Festival to thank Providence for the gift of mooncloth."

  "That's why we never had the Moonlight Festival. We never use mooncloth in Hot Springs."

  Generosity took a small snatch of cloth from the wide front pocket of her work tunic and looked at it fondly. "This is made from mooncloth my mother wove. It's all I have to remember her by." She sniffed and held it out to Repentance. "I'll wager you've never seen finer."

  Repentance had never seen any, let alone any finer. She rubbed the satiny material between her fingers.

  As Generosity stashed the cloth back in her pocket, Repentance thought she saw a flash of light. "Let me see that again."

  Generosity complied.

  "That was strange. I thought I saw a blue light as you stuck it into your pocket."

  "It's mooncloth. It shines in the dark."

  Repentance frowned. She was so ignorant. When she'd offered herself up to the slave cart in hopes of cheating the overlords out of her babies, she'd never dreamed there would be so many oddities filling the wide world on the other side of the river. Cloth that lit up in the dark. Houses made of ice that were never cold. Horseless carriages with no wheels. She blew out a breath and looked out the window at the cloudless sky. "Windows made of thin plates of ice that never melt in the sun."

  "What's that you say?" Generosity asked.

  "Nothing. I was thinking out loud." She reached up to feel her hair. Almost dry. "So are there more festivals I should know about? Sunlight festivals, perhaps?"

  Generosity looked at her as if she were a two-headed toad. "You jest."

  Repentance gave a tight-lipped smile. She was not anxious to look stupid in the eyes of a maid. Especially not in the eyes of one as talkative as this one. "I don't know how you celebrate up here on the mountain. Tell me about the festivals."

  "Oh, I see. You wish to test me. My knowledge? Or my devotion? You need not worry, my Lady. I'm not like so many today that claim devotion to Providence but never serve Him. I know all the festivals, and I attend them."