by Colt, K. J.
That night in bed, I helped Mother bathe and dress, and she pulled herself into bed without any assistance.
‘Mama, why do the Meligna healers charge so much money?’
‘Because people are greedy. You will learn that the world is full of good people and bad people, but distinguishing between them is nigh impossible.’
‘If we are wealthy, does it mean we are greedy too?’
Mother sniffed. ‘I don’t like to admit it, but yes, I was greedy. The world is an insecure place, and I grew up poor and was afraid of being poor again. Fear makes people selfish, but if everyone is selfish, then those who need help won’t receive any.’
‘So if the healer was good, he would charge less money?’
‘Yes.’ She kissed me on the forehead. ‘And the healer is a she. Only women can be Meligna healers.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s just the way it works.’ She yawned. ‘Time for sleep now. Tomorrow, we open the shop.’
‘Tomorrow?’ I repeated anxiously.
‘We’ve been closed for nearly two weeks. Eventually, we’ll run out of exotic wares and have to make do with more general goods. Ordering from stores more than a week’s travel from here is too risky. We’ll cut back on expenses and live modestly.’
‘Mama, couldn’t you still travel if someone helped you?’ I hated the fact we had any restrictions on us. Mother’s chairs, the ropes above the bed—they proved that any problem could be solved.
‘No.’
‘Why?’
‘The stretch of road leading from Juxon City to Old Bow is dangerous, and you remember our talk about thieves. Your father taught me to wield a sword when I was seventeen, and Klaw—never mind.’ She laughed, a touch of sadness to the sound.
‘We can do it together,’ I exclaimed. ‘Let’s hire a henchman. We’ll take your chair. I can lift it; it’s not too heavy.’
‘There is no “we,” Adenine. I’ll not put you in harm’s way.’
Her words stung. I gritted my teeth. ‘Why is it dangerous for me and not you? You said I could never go outside. You changed your mind about that. Nothing really bad has happened to me or anyone else.’
‘I told you you’re not sick anymore. And don’t forget you got yourself lost in the woods and almost died,’ she countered. She always twisted my words to suit her own needs.
‘But I did that to myself,’ I said, realising that probably wasn’t the best response.
‘I said no, Adenine. Sleep now.’
Her dismissal of me only infuriated me more. Why did she insist on being a coward? Why did she keep treating me like a child? I jumped out of bed in a huff.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To the attic. My room.’
Mother sighed. ‘As you wish.’
I headed up the stairs. My heart raced as the memories of being closed inside the attic came to mind. It had remained unused since I’d found Mother sick in her bed. The space was familiar, though, and I wanted to punish Mother for keeping secrets from me, just as she was always punishing me by keeping secrets.
Under the sheets, my body warmed, and I became drowsy and drifted off into dreams of witches.
I awoke to something wet on my face, and the feeling made me bolt upright. I heard a yelp, and little teeth bit at my hand.
‘A puppy!’ I shrieked.
‘A pleasant morning to you, Adenine,’ Jemely said.
‘Is this yours?’ I asked, patting the pup as it licked and nipped at my hand.
She laughed. ‘No. It’s yours.’
‘Really?’ I asked in astonishment that was quickly replaced by fear. Could I really look after a dog? What if it ran off? I’d never be able to find it. ‘It licked me. It won’t get sick, will it?’ I asked Jemely.
‘No, Adenine. I meant it when I said you were cured,’ Mother replied.
I hadn’t known she was in the room. How did she get up here?
‘So I can keep it?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ Mother said.
‘This breed of dog is clever,’ said Jemely. ‘He’s easily trained and hunts game, you know, like rabbits and foxes or pheasant.’
‘And we can feed it our scraps so it won’t cost us much extra,’ Mother added.
‘What’s her name?’ I asked.
‘He,’ Jemely corrected. ‘His name is Butterbur, but you can change it if you like. He’s two months old, so he’s smart enough for you to start training him now.’
I liked the name. ‘I’ll just call him Butter.’
Mother laughed. ‘That’s a funny name.’
I liked butter on bread. It had always been a treat in our home, and when Mother served it, it had always felt special. And the puppy was definitely special.
I hugged Butter against my chest and marvelled at how far I had to stretch to get my arms completely around him. His tail thumped against my leg as I stroked his fat paws and floppy ears. He smelled wonderful.
‘Butter,’ I said, and he yelped and gnawed on my fingers. ‘No biting.’ He stopped. Definitely smart. ‘What colour is he?’ I asked, running my fingers through his thick coat, letting the bones under his skin and the edges of his limbs guide my hand.
‘White. He’ll get lost in the snow season, I think,’ Mother said.
‘You gots to train him while he’s young,’ Jemely added.
‘Speaking of which,’ Mother said. ‘The reason I approved you having this puppy, and particularly this breed of dog, is that in Bivinia there are older blind people who use dogs as a guide to get about. We can train him up to help you find places.’
‘How?’
‘Well, the dog wears a special harness, and you become sensitive to his movements and he to yours. He’ll lead you around buildings, people, and other obstacles.’
‘So I can go outside on my own?’ I was so excited I could hardly contain the rush of questions.
‘Yes. But it takes a long time to train these dogs. You’ll need help from someone until then. I have to find a trainer, too.’
‘Klawdia could help; she’s trained horses and bears for the king before,’ Jemely said.
‘No,’ Mother said, her tone strained.
‘Do you know her?’ Jemely asked.
‘Not very well, but I don’t like Ruxdorians.’
‘Why not?’
Mother let out an exasperated sigh. ‘There has to be someone else.’
‘I have chores to do now. Excuse me,’ Jemely said.
‘Thank you, Jemely!’ I called.
‘Told you I’d make it up to you. He’ll grow up big. Figured he’d fight off anyone who ever tried to hurt you.’
I was excited. With Butter by my side, I’d be safe. Protected. I no longer disliked Jemely. In fact, I liked her more than ever. Butter was the most perfect gift I could have ever wished for.
Mother kissed me on the forehead. ‘I love seeing you so happy.’
‘Thank you so much for letting me keep him.’
‘You best look after him, then,’ Mother said.
‘Oh, I will, Mama. But how did you get up to my room?’
‘Jemely helped pull me up the stairs, and my arms are getting stronger. I can move my weight around pretty well now. Adenine, I know you don’t like it when there are things I know that you don’t. But I must protect you.’
There was pain in her voice, and I knew I was doing it again, hurting her, and I felt guilty. It was true that I had begun to resent her for keeping the secrets from me, only because I kept none from her.
‘I can wait,’ I lied. At that moment, I decided I was going to uncover all her secrets whether she let me or not.
‘I love you, Adenine. Don’t forget that.’
My heart seemed to stop in my chest. She rarely said she loved me directly, and I knew I was supposed to feel grateful. But her loving words were empty to me, and they passed by me in search of a more worthy recipient because I had been the reason for Father’s and Uncle Garrad’s deaths. Why would she lie to me? I was
sure she wouldn’t love me anymore, and even if she did, I didn’t deserve it. So why did she tell me that?
‘Do you love me, Adenine?’ she asked.
That made more sense. She needed my love; that was why she had lied to me. I felt relieved. ‘Yes, Mama.’ Why was everything so complicated?
‘Good. Come down for breakfast soon, and bring Butterb—I mean, Butter.’
‘I will.’
She made a lot of noise getting back downstairs, but I didn’t offer any help, because Mother was headstrong like me.
Delighted with my new puppy, I snuck in a few minutes of playing and patting before breakfast. His breath was hot, and he constantly licked my neck and face. Every time his wet tongue ran over my cheek, it was a shock—a gooey, smelly shock. Even though I didn’t know whether I loved Mother or not, I definitely loved Butter.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MOTHER AND I MADE PREPARATIONS to open the shop. Mother ‘ummed’ and ‘ahhed’ over Mystoria’s inventory of items while I kept Butter from jumping up on Mother’s lap. We were low on incense, spices, perfumes, and jewellery, but we had enough silk cloth, premade garments, and Bivinian slippers, which were popular in summer, to last us another month.
We had carved wooden boxes for storing clothes, wall mirrors with metal frames of different designs and shapes, and statues of animals and people from other lands. Mother told me that one of the statues was of a woman from Ruxdor with red hair and blue eyes.
‘Like Klawdia?’ I asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Are Ruxdorians witches?’
‘No. If someone calls a Ruxdorian woman a witch, it is because they are threatened by her power and skill.’
I was delighted that Mother thoroughly answered my questions for once, so I braved several more. ‘The healers are sometimes called whores,’ I said. ‘What does it mean?’
‘I’ll tell you when you’re a bit older. It’s the term used when a healer asks for coin to heal someone.’
‘And that’s bad?’ I said.
‘When the price is so exorbitant that it makes a person choose between destitution and life, then yes.’
‘What does destitution mean?’
‘Being poor. Can’t afford food or lodging.’
‘They call the healers witches as well…’
Mother inhaled deeply. ‘They call healers witches for the same reason someone would call Klawdia a witch. This may not be entirely true, but your Father often agreed with my observations… men seem to use the word witch more than women. That’s because men have more power than women, and any threat to that power becomes a source of fear. When any person, man or woman, has wealth and influence, it tends to ensure a comfortable living for them and their families, and they will lash out at anyone who might try to take it from them.’
‘I don’t understand how a witch having power means a man will lose his wealth,’ I said.
Mother chuckled appreciatively. ‘Precisely. If a woman is called a witch, and ostracised and forced out of all good society, then other women won’t be influenced by her. Well, that’s what the men and sometimes women, think. Men see women as their property. They think to own them, and their bodies, like a horse, or a cow. Witches are often herbalists or nature worshippers who make their own coin, using knowledge of the lands to brew potions and remedies. There was an instance where a witch was drowned after being accused of planting bitter herbs in a farmer’s field which ruined his crops. The post-mortem found her with child, and the wife admitted to knowing it belonged to her husband.’
‘So he lied.’
‘Yes, and then in his defence stated the witch had used a powerful love potion to make him give her a child.’
‘And they believed him?’ I said in astonishment.
‘Unless it can be proved different, a man’s word is often taken over a woman’s, especially if that woman has a poor reputation.’
‘Can witches really use magic?’ I asked.
‘Well… think of it like this. Magic is a vague word thrown about to describe mysterious events that happen as a result of a person’s will, or in the case of witches, by their prayers, rituals, potions, and remedies. This frightens people, and what people don’t know, or understand, stirs hatred and fear.’
‘Is that why people fear healers?’ I said.
‘Partly. But the healers somewhat earned their reputation by stealing the northern city from the king during the plague.’
‘Why did they do that?’
‘That’s enough talk now, we’ve got work to do.’
My imagination wandered to witches and I found myself wanting to meet one. To steal a city while their countrymen were dying, the healers must have been evil, but knowing that such black-hearted scoundrels existed in the world didn’t dampen my curiosity to explore it. What terrified me was also exhilarating. To speak another language, to smell or taste new spices—these were enticing ideas that brought me joy.
Yet ideas were all they’d be while I remained blind, and so I focused on being grateful about helping Mother run Mystoria, and keeping my promise to Father. I was determined to make him proud of me by taking care of his wife.
At seven o’clock that morning, Mother hung out our shop sign. Mystoria was open for business for the first time in two weeks, and I was excited about the coming day. Jemely would return at noon with pumpkin soup to celebrate. She’d also promised to inform the town crier that we were opening again. Mother was happy, determined, and proud. She hugged me constantly throughout the day, and I had never felt closer to her.
We passed our time by talking about the tricks of merchant trade. She said that in order to make a profit, we had to price an item higher than it was worth to give room for bartering. We practiced negotiation, and Mother laughed at how terrible at it I was.
‘We aren’t charity, Adenine. You don’t sell at the price you bought it for. You sell higher.’
After a few more tries, it made a little more sense, but I still thought the whole idea was silly and wondered why everyone didn’t agree to pay what the items were really worth.
Thankfully, Mother said I wouldn’t have to do any of the bartering and that she’d take care of that part. ‘Bartering is in your blood. You’ll get it eventually.’
By mid-morning, several lanes had been constructed between the store’s wares so Mother could wheel about. I played my part by moving, stacking, and fetching items, cleaning shelves, making food and drink, and keeping her company.
‘This is strange,’ Mother said with a touch of concern in her voice.
‘What is?’ I asked.
‘Still no patrons.’
I attuned my hearing to outside where the market square was a commotion of buy and sell. It seemed like our shop was invisible to the rest of the town. ‘It’s still early,’ I said.
Mother rubbed my arm. ‘You’re sweet, but most people shop early morning. Some are even gathered outside before the cock crows.’ She sighed.
I upturned a bucket and sat.
And we waited.
And waited.
The town crier made a special morning announcement for us.
‘Here we go,’ Mother said. ‘Perhaps the townspeople didn’t realise we were back in business.’
More hours passed.
Mother said, ‘I will go to the door and invite people to come inside.’
Her chair squeaked, and then she yanked open the front door. It blew back with a bang, and the village-square sounds flooded the room.
‘Greetings, Merelda, how goes the fan I sold you last month?’
‘Good,’ a woman replied curtly.
Mother greeted many more people, but no one seemed to have time to stop and talk. After another hour, a lady—heavyset, judging from the loud placement of her feet—entered the store.
‘Welcome, Vonna,’ Mother said.
‘Merchant Capacia! I’ve not seen you these three months as I’ve been visiting my grandson in Juxon City. He apprentices with the king’
s royal smithy now.’ The lady sounded elderly.
‘You must be so proud. He was always a polite lad.’
‘Indeed, and if not for me, he’d be toiling at the mines or earning a pittance on the land. Kept him away from his drunkard parents, I did, and now he’s the tallest wheat stalk in the field. Now, I’m on the hunt for some rare green silk, something special. I’m to make a dress.’
‘We can certainly help you there, Vonna,’ Mother exclaimed. ‘Adenine, will you fetch my dear friend our finest green silk?’ Earlier, Mother and I had sorted the cloth materials according to the colours of the rainbow. Red would be on my right, then yellow, and then green.
‘Yes, Capacia,’ I said.
But as I turned, the lady said, ‘Adenine? The forest girl? Is this Garrad’s girl?’ There was a note of disgust in her tone.
‘Yes, poor thing got lost the other night,’ Mother said. She’d handled gossip before, and in the past had said a merchant’s greatest battle was in maintaining a reassuring façade and a persuasive tongue.
‘I see. Oh, silly me.’ The lady laughed nervously. ‘I’ve made a fuss over nothing. Silk! I’ve no need for silk; it is far too much for my trivial little house visit. I’ll wear one of my usual dresses. Good day.’ Her shoes scuffed against the ground as she left.
‘I can’t believe it!’ Mother exclaimed. ‘She seemed put off by you, Adenine, but why?’
A better question was, why was Mother confused? The things people had said about me when I was blind and wandering on the streets the first time had shown me I was unwanted in Borrelia. They knew I was afflicted. They sensed that I was dangerous.
‘Mama, no one likes me.’
‘Nonsense. What could they have against you? They don’t even know you.’
‘Remember when I first went into the market square to get Varago for you? People were… whispering, saying I was dirty, disgusting, and that they think I have the weeping pox.’
‘Forget them. You’re perfect. Lots of people lose their sight or get lost in forests. Who are they to judge?’ Mother harrumphed, slamming the front door and briskly wheeling her chair back to me.
Perfect? I wasn’t perfect. Why did she keep saying untruths? Perhaps I should have gone back to the attic, back to my room. Mother would make sales, and I would have Butter to keep me company. Everything would be back to normal. That would be perfect.
