by Colt, K. J.
I brought my walking stick up and hit whoever it was across the face. There was a sickening cracking sound before I lost my balance and started to fall over backwards. In an attempt to break my fall, I planted my hand into mud that covered sharp rocks beneath it.
‘Ouch! My nose!’ Jark cried. ‘Oh, it hurts.’
‘Serve you right, Jark,’ Emala said, laughing. ‘Oh, dear. It is bleeding, though.’
‘What’s going on here?’ an adult said. ‘Who did this to Jark?’
‘Adenine, Mr. Sagglewood.’
‘Well, is this any way to behave on your first day of school, Adenine? That’s a walking stick, not a sword.’
The stick was yanked from my hand, and the teacher grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. ‘Explain yourself.’
I clutched my bruised hand. ‘I-I…’ But my words caught in my throat.
‘He deserved it, sir. Jark tried to take her blindfold off,’ Emala said.
‘That’s not true!’ Jark cried. ‘I didn’t do anything, and she hit me.’
The teacher sighed. ‘Let’s go see the headmaster, both of you.’
And Mr. Sagglewood moved us inside. I could hear Frooby coughing nearby, and when we were questioned by the headmaster, Frooby cut in, saying, ‘Headmaster, if I may?’
‘You observed this quarrel?’
‘Yes, sir. I was standing near the door. Jark reached for her blindfold without her permission. I don’t believe Adenine meant to hit him across the face. After all, she is blind. She couldn’t see what he was doing.’
‘You make a valid point.’ The headmaster banged the whipping cane against a table. ‘Jark, I already punished you today. Your behaviour has been appalling. Your father and I will be having words.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Jark said between gritted teeth.
‘And, Adenine, try to be more careful.’
‘Yes, sir. I’m sorry.’ I wiped tears from my cheeks, and hated myself for crying in front of everyone. ‘I’m sorry, Jark.’
The boy didn’t reply.
‘Oh, well, I can see you didn’t mean it,’ the headmaster said. ‘Come now. You’re not in trouble. Just be careful. I want no more fighting between you two. Is that understood?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Jark and I said in unison.
The last two lessons passed without any more trouble from Jark. No one else teased me, either, and I wondered if they thought I’d hit them with a stick if they offended me.
Great. I’m the forest witch girl who beats up young boys.
When school was over, Emala offered to walk me to the council building, where her father worked. The idea of walking with my new friend was exciting. Besides, Varago and Jemely would probably see me on the way.
As Emala and I walked, she asked, ‘So, what happened to you?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Your eyes.’
I paused, wondering what I should say. ‘I burned them with water. It was a while ago.’
‘You poor thing, that must have been so traumatic,’ she said, and guided me out of the path of a horse-drawn cart. The hooves clacked against the ground as it passed. ‘Greetings,’ Emala called cheerily.
‘It wasn’t that bad. I fainted at the time, so I don’t really remember much.’
‘If you don’t remember, then how do you know you burned them?’
The question caught in my mind like a fly in a jar of honey. Up until then, I’d thought that part was strange too. I’d asked Varago about it, and he’d said that when the body experiences shock, the mind forgets in order to protect itself. But I remembered the worst parts: the blood, Uncle Garrad’s body, and how he’d attacked me. The water had splashed onto my face, but I didn’t remember burning my eyes, and everything after that was so muddled that I wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t.
‘My parents told me what happened,’ I said.
‘Couldn’t they have lied?’
I clenched my hands into fists. How could she ask me that? ‘Why do you care?’ I asked, folding my arms, which was difficult to do while holding a walking stick.
‘Oh, I didn’t mean to offend you. I guess… it just doesn’t make sense. Your face isn’t burnt.’
‘And? You weren’t there. Did your father tell you to ask me these questions?’
‘My father?’ she said.
‘He asked me these same questions yesterday. I burned my eyes, all right? There’s nothing more to it.’ I stormed away. She wasn’t my friend; she just wanted to laugh at my misfortune like everyone else. I was too annoyed to go home, so I walked around for a while, clumsily navigating the streets, noting the familiar noises of the busy town.
‘Veal, chicken, pork, what meat do ya desire? Red, white, or pink, eh?’ the butcher called.
Then I passed the hammering of a carpenter, who I thought might be Krejald, and when he yelled, ‘Greetings!’ I yelled hello back.
Spring was leaving winter behind. While the nights were still freezing, the midday air filled with the chirps and cries of busy animals. I knew the lambs would have been born, the ducklings would be waddling clumsily behind the mother ducks, and the calves would be at their mothers’ teats. But I had never seen it with my own eyes. Well, I’d seen some of the animals on my uncle’s farm, but it was so long ago that the memories were hazy.
The sounds of the town fell behind me, and with each step, I was careful to check with my stick that the ground in front of me was flat. I felt more and more pulled towards the surrounding forests of the west side of town, which I could tell judging by the position of the sun. As I passed beneath trees, daylight seemed to be playing hide-and-seek with me as my sight turned from red, to pink, to maroon.
Upon hearing a twig snap, I stopped walking. Someone was there, and one part of me said I should run. But I wanted to be brave; I needed to be brave. The person came closer. I clenched my fists and stiffened my arms, determined not to move. Have courage. The person would fear me. But when my resolve weakened, I realised everything I was telling myself was a lie. I turned to run.
‘Stop,’ a woman ordered.
I froze.
‘Forgive me. It was not my intention to startle you.’
I recognised the voice—Healer Euka. Mother didn’t like the woman, and that put me on my guard. I could smell the sweet perfume of soaps and oils on the breeze. Her fragrance now was different to yesterday’s: wild lavender and strawberry.
‘It’s Healer Euka. We met yes—’
‘I remember,’ I said.
A part of me wanted to run, but I wasn’t afraid of her. A witch was supposed to be a bad person. King Erageo wouldn’t try to make peace with the healers if they intended harm. I remembered Varago’s hatred of the healers; he had called them golden whores, but I still did not understand the meaning of the phrase.
‘Someone…’ I paused, thinking about how to frame my question. ‘My friend said you are a whore.’
She laughed. ‘How forward. I suppose I can’t expect much more from a reclusive child. What I practice could cause me to be mistaken for a whore.’
It didn’t seem like polite conversation to ask for more details about what whores did, but I did know that it must be a profession of some sort since they put a price on the service. ‘Are you a queen?’
The woman chuckled. ‘Oh no, I’m an ambassador of sorts. I’m on my way to Juxon City to see the king. Your name is Adenine, isn’t it?’
I nodded.
‘It’s a beautiful name.’ She moved closer, and the rich materials of her gown—that’s what I imagined she wore—rustled and circulated her perfume. ‘I’d like to ask you a question, with your permission.’
I hesitated. ‘Very well.’
‘We talked about your eyes last time, remember?’
No one seemed to care that asking about my eyes reminded me of Father and Uncle Garrad’s deaths, and reminded me that it was all my fault.
‘You can’t remember scalding them, can you?’
I was shocked. E
mala had asked me the very same question only half an hour ago. I turned and started walking away, and the woman ran to me and grabbed my shoulder. ‘Hear me now, all is not what it seems.’
‘Leave me alone.’ I shrugged out of her grasp. ‘I won’t tell you anything because I know you’re bad. You can heal people, better than a doctor, and yet you demand so much coin for it.’
‘You’re right. Let me remove your blindfold and I’ll heal you for free.’
My heart raced with her offer. The idea that I’d be able to see again thrilled me. I knew she had special healing powers, and all she wanted was just to look at the scars on my eyes. Surely that wouldn’t hurt, right?
I reached up to my blindfold.
‘Stop! Adenine!’ Varago yelled.
I froze. Two sets of footsteps thudded on grass, and knowing how bad Varago’s knees were, I hoped he wouldn’t injure himself.
‘You were supposed to wait for me and Varago at school!’ Jemely yelled, huffing and puffing.
When they caught up to me, they grabbed at my arms and tried to lead me away. I fought them. ‘She said she’d heal me.’
‘Stop it. Be still,’ Jemely ordered in such a harsh tone that I gave in.
‘I know what your scheme is, harlot. Who do you think you are?’ Varago said.
‘I am a royal ambassador, peasant.’ The woman spoke with a confidence that I envied.
‘Charging fifty gold for a healing, are you? That is nothing to be proud of. I’m a real doctor.’
‘Oh, a real doctor?’ she laughed. ‘Tell me, Doctor, how many lives have you saved this year?’
‘With my affordable prices, more than you. The women especially seem pleased with my services.’ Varago turned to me. ‘Healers can’t heal girls or women, Adenine, only men.’
‘Why?’ I asked.
‘Ask your mother,’ he said, and put extra pressure on my arm to lead me away.
The healer followed us. There came the sound of clanging metal, a sound made only by armour. ‘They’ve kept you in the dark, Adenine,’ Healer Euka crowed. ‘And how convenient for you, Doctor, that her father is dead and that you’re such close friends with her mother.’ The healer was accusing Varago of something, but I couldn’t work it out. I hated being dumb.
‘Go to, wench. Take your traitor soldiers and go back to your witch city.’
The smell of her perfume faded, and Varago’s story about the arrows and the bear came to mind. He’d said that in the face of his enemies, he remained silent and kind. Why did adults give advice that they didn’t heed themselves?
Healer Euka’s only crime seemed to be charging too high a price for healing people. What if healing someone made her ugly, or old? In some books, witches grew ugly when they used their magic, and so they cast spells of beauty to hide their hideous appearances. Perhaps healing someone brought her excruciating pain, or awful shame, and if so, then who was Varago to say how much she should charge?
‘She didn’t hurt me,’ I said back at home where Mother was stricken with worry over me. ‘She only wanted to help.’
‘Nonsense. You’re young and don’t know what you’re talking about. They use their healing gift to obtain political and moral power. When our country needed them most, they betrayed us.’
Healer Euka seemed genuinely interested in helping me. Maybe they could heal women, and Varago was the one lying. She had smelled so beautiful and elegant. I couldn’t imagine a lady like that, so noble and well spoken, being hateful. In fact, it seemed the only hateful person was Varago, and now Mother.
‘Varago, I’d like to speak to my daughter,’ Mother said.
‘Of course. Jemely, leave us,’ Varago ordered.
‘Alone,’ Mother said firmly, hinting that Varago should leave also.
When they were gone, Mother wheeled her chair over to me and held my hands. ‘You liked this Healer Euka, didn’t you?’
I nodded.
‘They are a fine and impressive people, aren’t they? As fine as the people of Bivinia. Coin makes people seem rational and reasonable, but as fine as they are, the healer women harbour anger strengthened by time, injustice, and the oppression of King Cevznik.’
‘The Wicked King,’ I said, remembering my lesson from school.
‘Yes, sweet one, the Wicked King. Revenge is an ugly monster that grows inside us, and when the Wicked King hurt them, they sought vengeance. People ruled by retribution cannot be trusted. They’ve turned away from goodness. They used to worship the life-giving sun and represented holiness and kindness. Put your confidence in those around you who only want to protect you.’
I was confused again, not knowing what to believe, but one thing seemed certain: Healer Euka couldn’t heal my eyes. Being able to see the flowers on the trees, the vibrant colour of ripened fruit, but most of all, Mother’s face, her smile—to truly see her would be worth anything.
A tear slid down my cheek. ‘Why would she want to hurt me?’
‘She doesn’t want to hurt you. But remember when you were ill?’
I nodded.
‘Healer Euka suspects you of carrying the Death Plague. If she knew, she’d try to take you away.’
‘Why?’
‘She’d worry about it spreading to her city. Trust your mama. Stay away from her, please.’
‘But I’m not sick,’ I said.
‘You were.’
‘What happens if she finds out?’
‘Everything that I have always feared,’ she said, and wheeled her chair towards the stairs to go back down to Mystoria.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
JEMELY TRIED TO CHEER ME and Mother up with a story about a boy who wedged himself stuck in a latrine hole. When we didn’t laugh, she said, ‘The moaning sick are better company than the miserable pair of yous.’ And she left to go assist Varago at the surgery.
An hour before sundown, Mother closed Mystoria, stating enough money had been made and that she wanted to spend time with me, which was a lie, because she then quickly closed herself in her bedroom. I spent the rest of the afternoon wallowing in my disappointment and playing fetch with Butter in the backyard.
When the air cooled and Butter started whining for his dinner, we dragged ourselves back inside, and had started up the stairs when someone knocked on the front door.
No customers ever visited so late, and Mother’s urgent voice echoed down the stairwell. ‘Adenine. Adenine. Don’t you answer that door!’
The sound of rope rubbing against metal from behind startled me. Mother was frantically lowering herself on the stair-slide and must have let go too early at the bottom, because there was a loud bang, followed by cussing. Her wheelchair creaked.
The knock sounded again. Butter barked this time, and I shushed him.
‘Stay here,’ Mother said, wheeling past me to the entrance of Mystoria. ‘Who is it?’
I heard the scrape of metal. Mother had a dagger, or a sword of some kind. Was someone here to hurt us, or kill us, maybe? Whatever secrets Mother kept, they were dangerous ones.
‘It’s Klawdia. I’m here for Adenine and Butter,’ said the woman who’d rescued me from the forest.
Mother unlocked the door.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
‘GOOD EVENING, MERCHANT CAPACIA,’ KLAWDIA said. Her peculiar speech caused her to roll her Rs and emphasise each E. Metal clanged as she stepped into the room. A cool night breeze blew in from outside, carrying the strong smell of horse and campfire.
‘Welcome, Klawdia. Leave your weapons at the foot of the stairs inside, please.’ Mother seemed guarded, and I didn’t blame her. The woman had a presence that filled the room and demanded caution.
‘As you wish,’ Klawdia said. She walked past me, and I listened intently as she set her weapons against a nearby wall.
Long ago, Mother had told me that the Bivinian people to the south spoke as if they were making long strokes with their tongue, whereas Klawdia had short, sharp pronunciations.
‘I’m surprised you were a
vailable at my request, since you travel so often,’ Mother said.
‘That was once true of you, Merchant Capacia…’ The Ruxdorian paused. ‘How disappointing to see that you no longer distribute the work of other cultures here.’
‘That reason should be obvious.’ Mother’s tone sent a shiver down my spine.
Klawdia and Mother knew each other well, it seemed. Whenever I learned about the way Mother used to be, a fearless trader with youth in her step, it made me sad to think of how she had become.
‘Obvious, but not justified,’ Klawdia said. ‘Your legs might be useless, but your mind is still intact, and we both know a merchant is not what he does, but what he thinks.’
There was a strange tension in the air. The huntress didn’t seem interested in being polite or impressing Mother.
‘You are as bold and wise as ever, Klawdia. Maybe you will settle for my excuse that I will not leave my blind niece alone in this house.’
‘She is not crippled,’ the Ruxdorian said. ‘Take her with you.’
I was thrilled at the idea since it was one I agreed with. Maybe Klawdia could change Mother’s mind, and in the morning, we’d be off on an adventure.
‘She has school, and Adenine is prone to dangers other people aren’t as you well know. I doubt I could leave now anyway.’
‘Because of a certain stranger, perhaps?’
They were talking of Healer Euka, surely, and I wondered whether Klawdia knew of the secrets Mother kept from me.
‘Is this the canine that needs instruction?’
‘Butter,’ I said, and he flopped against my leg, his tail thumped against the floor.
‘A soft name for a dog.’
‘Adenine, close the door and greet Klawdia properly,’ Mother instructed.
I stepped towards the woman. Her scent was intoxicating. She smelled of freedom, of a life lived properly, fully, and I breathed in deeply, allowing it to fill me up. When I’d closed the door, I put my hand out for her to shake it. She yanked me forward and grabbed my arm.
‘Let go,’ I cried.
‘Good. You don’t mind telling people how to treat you. Then you won’t mind telling Butter how to treat you, too.’ She let go of my arm and crouched down beside me. Butter gave a playful growl as Klawdia roughed him up. ‘A sturdy canine. Strong legs. Strong tail. An excellent hunter.’
