by Colt, K. J.
‘Butter only requires the basics,’ Mother said.
‘But I thought he was going to be trained to guide me,’ I said.
‘The girl would benefit from that,’ Klawdia agreed, ‘and I can help.’
‘Adenine, I’ve changed my mind.’ She sighed and addressed Klawdia. ‘Just teach her to control him, and please don’t teach him to hunt.’
‘Why would I? A merchant only need throw coin at farmers and butchers to live,’ Klawdia said.
‘A merchant struggles enough,’ Mother snapped.
‘Butter would love to hunt rainbow pheasants in the forest,’ I said, imagining his tongue flopping from his mouth, sniffing out burrowed animals and chasing tree rats and birds. His energy was wasted inside the house.
‘That’s what market stalls are for, Adenine,’ Mother said, hanging an irritable note on my name.
Klawdia gave a laugh so odd that I snorted.
‘The girl is eager for her dog to kill. Maybe she is a hunter too?’
‘You Ruxdorians think everything is about hunting. You’ll teach my Adenine no such things. Your job is to train Butter. That’s all we require.’
Why did Klawdia live in Senya if people hated the Ruxdorians?
‘Very well, then,’ the huntress said. ‘He’ll be spineless and useless, but if that is what you want, then—’
‘It is,’ Mother said curtly.
‘Let’s start now, if that is suitable for you, Merchant Capacia.’
‘Yes. Outside, though. Adenine, put on a coat. The day has turned to night.’ Mother wheeled herself towards the stairs.
‘Yes, Capacia,’ I said, and found my coat. Why didn’t Mother want Butter to learn how to guide me around town anymore? Did she want me to keep suffering?
Mother groaned as she pulled herself up the stairs. The rope rubbed against metal, and the wood of her seat slid against another wooden beam. I’d heard the same sound when passing the carpenter’s shop.
‘How interesting,’ Klawdia said, obviously observing the spectacle.
‘Varago built it,’ I told her. ‘Well, Fara and Krejald built it, but Varago designed it. It’s helped her so much.’ My enthusiasm for Mother’s mobility was boundless. I loved that she had her independence and was no longer confined to only one room or one floor of the house.
‘Perhaps. Maybe one day she will use that same determination to travel outside.’ Klawdia placed Butter in my arms and put a hand on my back to guide me outside. The Ruxdorian rattled an old lamp then placed it on the dirt.
After a few times of getting Butter to sit and stay, she asked me to go inside and fetch some leftover meat scraps. Jemely was upstairs cooking and asked me what the meat was for.
When I told her, she almost squealed with excitement and raced down the stairs ahead of me. ‘I love Klawdia. She’s brilliant. Ruxdorian blood is savage, and they know how to handle beasts. If I could do any job, it’d be a beast handler, it would.’
‘Wait,’ I said.
She stopped. ‘What?’
‘Is… is she wearing leather armour?’ I whispered.
Jemely laughed. ‘Yes, of course she is. She’s a Ruxdorian. They’re always ready for a fight.’
Back outside, Klawdia became the centre of attention… well, the centre of Jemely’s attention, anyway.
‘You can be whatever you want if you work hard enough,’ Klawdia said at one point, managing to interrupt Jemely’s gibbering on about how she wanted to become a horse trainer and work for the royal stables in Juxon City. ‘Do not let naysayers dissuade you from your fate.’
Klawdia was strange and mysterious. There was something confident and sure about her, as if she knew she would escape death or any other bad thing that life would throw at her. She was someone I would never be.
‘My uncle’d murder me if I took to animals,’ Jemely said.
‘Varago is a doctor of people. Why not use doctor skills to help animals?’
A doctor that only treats animals? I’d never heard of such a thing. It was a good idea. Father had said that horses and other prized animals were discarded if they were sick. Surely their masters would prefer them to live.
‘Could you teach me?’ Jemely asked.
‘No. I leave soon.’
‘Where are you going?’ I asked.
‘I am travelling north.’
‘To Ruxdor?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘By boat.’
My body came alive as I imagined travelling by boat and the smell of the ocean, one breath of which could cure any fatigue, Mother had told me. Mother had also told me that the ocean’s fragrance was akin to a salt mill, and that it was home to fish as big as houses.
‘Why are you going?’
‘My father is dying.’ Klawdia’s seemingly impenetrable demeanour had holes.
She had a father she loved. My father had already died. Soon, we would both have shared in the same sort of loss. I was jealous that she would never have to feel responsible for her father’s death.
‘Sorry,’ Jemely said.
‘There is a price for every action,’ Klawdia said.
Who was paying the price, her or her father?
She continued her instruction. ‘Part of an animal’s loyalty lies with food, but dogs are pack animals and they are loyal to their masters. Adenine, you will be Butter’s master, and a good master praises. Feeding Butter treats is your way of praising him. When he is grown, your words will be enough to reward him.’ Klawdia grasped my hand and put it on Butter’s head. ‘Now push him down and say, “Lay, Butter.”’
I did as she asked, and Butter lay on the ground.
Klawdia said, ‘Now, give him some meat.’
He gobbled the scraps from my hand.
‘See? He learns that when you say “lay,” he must go low to the ground. Then he will get a reward. Let’s try another.’
We continued the lessons for an hour or so until Mother yelled for Klawdia to come upstairs, which she did.
‘Wait here,’ Jemely whispered, and tiptoed inside. A moment later, she returned. ‘They’re discussing something. They seem like old friends, but not friendly no more.’
‘I thought that as well,’ I said. Jemely and I continued practising Klawdia’s instructions. At one stage, we heard Mother and Klawdia shouting, but I couldn’t make out the words and the row was brief.
‘What do you think they’re talking about?’ I asked Jemely.
‘Your mother’s a crafty woman. She’s likely rustling up some merchant business.’
As Klawdia was a traveller, it was possible they were making a deal. But I also knew that their familiarity with each other meant they could be quarrelling about the past. Klawdia’s footsteps were urgent as she came back downstairs; she gathered up her things, came out to us, and briskly said, ‘Goodnight.’ Her boots were soft as she left the backyard area; I never heard the latch on the gate.
‘That was odd,’ Jemely said.
When we went upstairs, Mother seemed agitated. She criticised Jemely’s cooking, saying the vegetables weren’t cut right, the meat was too salty, and the kitchen bench was messy. Jemely said nothing in return, which was a difficult feat for her.
Eventually, I asked, ‘What’s wrong, Mama?’
‘Nothing. Let’s eat dinner. Jemely, you join us. Adenine, you need a bath tonight.’
‘I’m going home, actually,’ Jemely said, and I didn’t blame her. She had taken Mother’s abuse without complaint, and I’d never known her to tolerate anyone speaking to her that way. When she was gone, Mother sat me next to the hearth. I scrubbed my body with soapy water, starting at my neck.
‘Will Klawdia be coming back soon?’ I asked.
‘No. If you practice Butter’s commands and reward him for good behaviour, then that’s all he needs.’
‘Did you fight with her? I wanted him to help my blindness,’ I said sadly.
‘Not everything is about you.’
‘You ruin everything.’ Disappointed, I went
silent.
When Jemely had first mentioned that Klawdia could train Butter to help me get about town, I’d been excited for the future. Together, we might have explored the entire town and run all Mother’s errands.
Klawdia’s visit had left me unsatisfied, so that night I stole coin from Mother’s purse with the intention of visiting the Ruxdorian woman on the morrow and paying her to train Butter properly.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE NEXT DAY, JEMELY WAS late to take me to school. At mid-morning, when she still hadn’t arrived, I snuck off without Mother’s permission, taking my walking stick, Butter, and a length of rope to tie him up with. It’s not like Mother could come after me even if she wanted to. I wasn’t trying to hurt her, or be mean spirited, I just wanted to show her I could be independent.
On my way, I found people were nicer to me and called me by name. Things had changed in the town. On occasion, I tripped on a stone paver or got lost in blocked laneways, but eventually I arrived at school.
‘Adenine,’ Emala said. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’
I remembered how angry I’d been at Emala during our fight and felt foolish for it now. ‘Morning,’ I said, wanting to apologise, but at the same time I feared she’d laugh at me.
‘Will you forgive me for asking about your eyes?’
I was relieved she’d apologised first. ‘No it wasn’t you, I overreacted. You can ask me things if you want.’
‘Then I will,’ she said lightly, and I imagined she was smiling at me so I smiled back. ‘You’re really nice, Adenine.’
I blushed. ‘Er, so are you.’
‘Let’s be friends,’ she said.
This time the smile stretched wide, and my heart swelled with pride. My first real friend. ‘Sure,’ I said, but inside I was bursting with joy. I wanted to say, ‘Thank you. Thank you. Come and meet Mother. Come and meet Jemely and see my house.’ But I didn’t want to seem too eager. And I knew that being too keen wasn’t a popular way to be.
Butter yelped.
‘That is a really cute dog,’ she said. ‘Can I pet him?’
‘He likes to lick,’ I warned, but by the sounds of her squealing, Butter had already begun mauling her face.
‘Want me to help you to school?’ Emala asked.
I nodded, and she linked her arm in mine, which felt nice, and walked me to my classroom.
Butter yelped and whined during the lessons, but I’d tied him up far away so he couldn’t disturb Headmaster Donlage. Emala had left a bowl of water for him to drink from.
‘Now, can anyone tell me why Ruxdorians are not allowed citizenship in Senya?’ the headmaster asked after an hour of naming the different tribes and customs of the north.
Either Klawdia was in Borrelia illegally, or there was a special reason she could live there. Since Emala’s father was the mayor, she might know Klawdia’s story.
There was a slight movement of air against the hair on my arm, and I guessed someone next to me had raised a hand.
‘All right, Biaka,’ Headmaster Donlage said.
‘Because they murder.’
‘Correct. A man who kills takes justice into his own hands and places himself higher than the king. There is no greater crime.’
At that moment, I imagined everyone staring at me, for that’s exactly what Father had done to Uncle Garrad. Justice was an idea. Mother had taught me this years back, that a wrongness could be righted through a punishment of equal weight. It’d never made much sense to me until now. Laws serviced the masses by providing a constant, like the heat of summer or the pale moon. They were forever, and always.
That was why a king must not be wicked, for in his hands was the power to change the constants of justice, and if he did so in order to service his own needs at the cost of his subjects, he would lose their trust.
The healers hadn’t betrayed the king, the king had betrayed them, and that was a dangerous opinion that I would never say out loud.
At lunch break, everyone made a fuss over Butter, and I allowed him to run around and play. ‘Emala, do you know Klawdia?’ I asked.
‘I’ve never talked to her, but she’s lived here for a long time.’
That explained how Klawdia and Mother knew each other. They likely knew each other from before I was born. ‘Why is she allowed to live here?’
‘If they swear allegiance to our king, and to South Senya, then they can stay. They have to prove it, though. Father said Klawdia spied on the king’s enemies. That’s all I know. Father doesn’t like her, though, because he says that a traitor once is a traitor always.’
Klawdia was travelling back to Ruxdor soon. What if she was a spy for Ruxdor? What if she was helping the Meligna Queens?
‘Is she allowed to leave Senya?’ I asked.
‘With the king’s permission. Why are you so interested in her?’ Emala asked.
‘She’s training Butter. Well… she was.’
‘Why would you hire her to train Butter?’
‘Aunt Capacia said Butter could aid me in sight.’
‘Oh, I get it, yeah that would be great. He could bark at bad people too.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Why don’t you buy him a proper leather collar?’ Emala suggested. ‘You merchants are supposed to have the best of the best, and so should Butter.’
Jemely yelled, ‘Adenine,’ from right behind and I jumped. ‘Your mother has been worried sick about you.’
I turned around to face her.
‘Mother?’ Emala asked.
‘Grandmother,’ Jemely corrected quickly. ‘She’s visiting us at the moment. You should have waited for me, Adenine.’
‘She’s been here all morning,’ Emala said. ‘You’re Jemely aren’t you? You work with Varago.’
‘That’d be me…’ Jemely said. ‘Who do you belong to?’
‘Mayor Vawdon.’
‘Oh,’ Jemely said, and I could hear the unease in her reply.
Mayor Vawdon had made Mother uneasy, too. His many questions about my eyes had put everyone on alert. Jemely seemed reluctant to leave me, but I encouraged her to go.
‘Be careful who you make friends with,’ she whispered to me before standing.
When Emala and the other children had gone back inside for their afternoon lessons, I took Butter and snuck away from school. I had hidden coins in a pouch in my dress—five silver had seemed enough.
Being blind made sneaking around impossible. I was soon lost and asking people for directions, not to mention I was a vulnerable girl carrying a modest sum of money.
I soon found a boy willing to lead me to Klawdia’s house in exchange for a silver. When I made the offer, he sang and danced with joy and said he’d been saving to buy his father a special pipe, which he could now afford.
The sun was warm, the wind was still, and the ground had soaked enough heat that I could remove my coat. The fullness of spring was a week or two away, and the days were growing longer and the nights barely needed a hearth. The harvest had begun, and soon all my favourite foods would be available.
Klawdia had said that merchants lived off the work of others. I’d never picked a vegetable from the ground, or milked a cow, and I wondered if that made me a bad person. Was the work of a merchant less important than that of a farmer?
Butter trotted happily alongside us, panting, stopping only to sniff things briefly. When he tarried too long, I’d tug on his lead, encouraging him to come. The road became rocky, with potholes and large rocks.
Finally, we stopped, and the boy said, ‘She lives ‘ere.’ He took me to the front veranda and placed my hand on a supporting beam. I thanked him, and when his footsteps had moved away, I used my stick to find the steps leading up to the balcony.
‘Is anyone home?’ I called out.
A door opened in front of me. ‘Adenine? You’ve the heart of a lion to visit me here. Where is Capacia?’
‘At home.’
She grabbed my arm, pulled me inside, and slammed the door behind m
e. ‘How did you get away?’
‘I left school—’
‘Then go back immediately.’
‘No. I want to learn more.’
‘I have nothing for you, girl.’ Her accent had thickened.
‘I… well… you know things. Mother never tells me anything.’ I felt around for a chair with my walking stick and sat down, determined to get answers. Butter pawed at my leg, wanting to sit on my lap. I pushed him away with my boot so he settled on the ground. The room smelled of hay and bitter salves and oils, the kind used in maintaining armour or weaponry; Father had kept similar stuffs at home.
‘A girl of twelve should be at school.’
‘Thirteen,’ I corrected.
‘Thirteen,’ she amended in a strained voice. ‘You’re thirteen? Hm,’ she murmured.
Next, I heard the banging of a pot, and a flow of urgent words that I figured was her cursing in her native tongue.
‘So that is why Capacia lied.’ She spoke the last words in a bitter tone.
‘Lied about what?’ I thought was a good time to produce the coins, and I poured them on the table.
Klawdia sniffed with amusement. ‘Typical merchants’ child. My loyalty cannot be bought. I promised your mother.’
‘Everyone promises her. No one tells me anything. How did you find me in the forest that night? What were you and Mother speaking about last night upstairs? Are you two friends? I demand to know what’s going on!’
My chest ached, my head throbbed, and I was tired, exhausted of thinking and worrying and living under the watchful eyes of overprotective friends and family when I didn’t even know what they were protecting me from.
‘When do you turn fourteen?’ she asked.
‘Around the winter solstice. June.’
‘When I return, I’ll tell you what you want to know, but not before.’
‘What does my age matter?’
Klawdia didn’t answer my question, but instead said, ‘My father is a sort of king in Ruxdor. We call them chieftains.’
