by Marian Gray
We had been at this for an hour now while we waited for Aunt Margot to finish getting ready and nothing had happened yet.
“No, not like that,” he hissed. “You’re not snatching. You’re plucking.”
I rolled my eyes. My hands and wrists were beginning to ache from all the precise and uncomfortable positions he had placed them in. “I can’t do it. Lakshmi said it would take four weeks before I had my full strength. And if I’m as broken as Aunt Margot believes I am, I have a feeling I’m going to need my full strength.”
“Nonsense.” He shook his head. His salt and pepper bubble pony tail slipped from his shoulder. “You are strong enough. The color has come to the ink. You just need to practice more if you want pull and reshape.”
I side-eyed him. “Does that mean you no longer believe there’s anything wrong with my abilities?” We hadn’t readdressed the matter, and their silence had been torture. I had attempted to broach the subject with both of them on separate occasions, but they ended the conversation before it even had chance to take off. Aunt Margot refused to discuss it because she wanted me to return to my mom’s. She hadn’t come out and said it, but I could sense it. She didn’t want me there anymore. Uncle Hank on the other hand didn’t want to say anything until he had heard back from Maxwell Raby.
Blacksaw didn’t allow snuffed hands, but Uncle Hank appeared determined that I would attend. There was no doubt he was holding out hope that Dr. Raby would be able to work some magic and improve my abilities.
“Now, try again.”
I dropped my arms to my side. The muscles were sore, and my fingers were literally bent out of shape. “Why don’t you show me? Obviously, I’m not getting this by you just telling me.”
“Because you already did it, remember? In the kitchen—Margot’s English ivy.”
“Yes, but that I had come to me so easily. I didn’t even have to think about it or try. I just held out my arm and it came.” I shrugged. Mugwort Oil of the Fourth Essence was quite powerful, as Aunt Margot had alluded. “You need to show me.”
Uncle Hank’s shoulders cowered inward and hands slid into his pockets. “I can’t show you. I’m afraid your aunt will have a fit if I harm her new house plants in any way.”
She had bought some potted plants a week ago, and the seedlings had only sprouted yesterday. “But you want me to do it?” He was setting me up to get murdered.
“It’s a little more understandable if an untrained hand makes a mistake and pulls something by accident. She’ll be able to look past it, but if I do it—”
“Henry Francis Ebenmore, don’t you dare.” Aunt Margot’s voice cracked like a whip from the top of the ebony stairs. “I’ll having you sleeping on the couch for a week.” The muffled sound of her shoes on carpet as she made her way down filled my ears. “My poor, wittle babies,” she said to the terra-cotta pots that stood near the front door. “Don’t worry. Mummy won’t let them kill you.”
Uncle Hank rolled his eyes. “Zuri wouldn’t have been able to kill them. She’s not strong enough.”
She glanced at him from over her shoulder. The flames of hell burned in her eyes. “They’re babies, Hank. They maybe have an essence or two in them. That’s it. They would surely die if she pulled them.”
“Alright, alright. I’m sorry.” He huffed, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. “Are you ready to go yet?”
Her scathing eyes dashed away from us and over to the large mirror that stood near the door. With one hand, she primped her blonde hair, giving the curls a little more body. “I am, but I still don’t think we should be doing this. What’s the point of buying supplies? As it currently stands, Zuri’s unfit for university level studies and Raby hasn’t responded to you yet.”
“Regardless if Raby replies or not, Zuri is going to Blacksaw.”
“Hank—“
“Yes, she’ll have to work harder than the other students, but I believe in her, Margot. She can do it. She’s an Ebenmore. If she has half the strength of my mother pumping through her veins, she’ll be just as good as the other students.”
“Hank, stop it.” Her voice was silvery sharp. “She won’t be able to keep up. You’re just filling her head with impossibilities rewritten as hope.”
“You don’t know that. Like I said, she may have to work a little harder, but she can do it.” Tears built in the bottom of his lids, and he quickly dabbed them dry with the cuff of his sleeve. “You were there. You saw here pull from your ivy.”
“And I also saw smoke. Smoke, Hank.”
His jaw clenched. “If we wouldn’t have oiled her hands, we wouldn’t know this. We would be carrying on as though everything were…” His lips smashed together, keeping whatever word he was about to say from coming out.
“Carrying on as though everything were what?” Margot challenged.
“Normal,” he whispered the word. His eyes drifted down to his buffed leather shoes. “The color has come to her ink.”
“I know.” Her voice softened now that his dismay was apparent. “But we did, and we can’t just ignore what we saw. Sending her to Blacksaw, knowing that she’s…” She cleared her throat. “Sending her to Blacksaw, knowing what we know would be wrong. It’s unethical.” She lifted her handbag from the nearby coat rack, and held the tawny leather bag in front of her. Both of her hands clasped the handle. “I won’t make her go back home if she would rather remain here. But we both know what kind of life lays ahead of her. Factory work isn’t an easy or glamorous thing. There’s a reason only the most desperate of commoners take those jobs.”
“Exactly. That’s why she’s going to Blacksaw.” He placed a hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “And don’t speak to me about what’s ethical and what isn’t. You’re the one who put the idea of running away into Zeineb’s head seventeen years ago, despite it being extremely illegal for flups to have sole-custody over children born to hands. If we were going to live our lives by the rules and maintain ethical integrity, Zuri should have gone to her father.”
Her mouth opened. Shock riddled her eyes. “How dare you.”
“I’ll take that to mean this subject is settled.” His back straightened. The old giant looked ready to beat down anyone who would challenge him.
“Thank you for ruining this outing before it’s even began.” Aunt Margot shifted the emerald pillbox hat on her head.
The squabble in the foyer should have wrecked my mood, but I couldn’t have been happier than I was right then. The bright sun warmed my face; I hadn’t tasted fresh air for a month now. I missed the sound of the birds and the wind and the easy rabble of life.
While the mountain’s mist swallowed Rotterpool whole during the evening and early morning, by mid-day it was a summer dream. A deep blue sky stretched above our heads with small puffs of clouds lying on the slopes far below us. Winding cobblestone paths whirled around the dark rocky tops, splitting off here and there to connect the peaks. Houses practically spilled onto the streets as they clung to the mountain side for dear life. They were built wherever they feasibly could, even onto the bridges, hanging off the sides, dipping under the path, and wrapping overhead.
“You know, these bridges were only put in seventy-five years after the city was founded,” Uncle Hank said as we entered a tunnel that eventually spilled onto a long-reach bridge. “Before they would catapult themselves across.”
“What? That’s so dangerous!”
Uncle Hank snickered.
Margot rolled her eyes. “He’s toying with you. The peaks used to be separate towns. As Rotterpool grew, it annexed the other towns and they built the bridges to connect them all.”
“You’re so funny, Uncle Hank.” I rolled my eyes at him as we strolled passed a section of open bridge. Stone structures, swirling paths, and staggering evergreens towered all around us. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing to a huge building that dominated the highest peak. It looked like a castle floating in the sky with its many windows sparkling in the sun.
“And part of it serves as the chairman’s residence,” Margot added. She glanced at the building with small smile creeping across her face. “Aren’t they hosting the families from Easternboar today?”
“You think I know?”
Aunt Margot ignored his apathetic attitude. “If they are, would you two want to head up and watch whatever bit of pageantry they have going on?”
Uncle Hank’s face twisted and contorted. “By the black and white, absolutely not. Why would we voluntarily subject ourselves to that?”
Aunt Margot chuckled. “It’s not that bad.”
The bridge spilled into three different paths. One led up the mountain; the second descended; and the third dove into the heart of the rock. Above the cavernous entrance hung an ornate wooden sign. On its face, Mandarin Market beamed in gold lettering. Past it, the cavernous plaza teemed with life. People meandered in and out of shops, carrying a multitude of colored cloth sacks on their arms filled with wares.
Despite it being inside a mountain, the sunlight still shined through. Certain sections of the sloped ceiling were practically invisible, rendered so by a spell—at least that’s what I assumed, given the ripple that formed along its surface every now and then.
The pair made a sharp turn to the right, and it forced me to halt in my tracks. “We’re not going in there?” I pointed toward teeming marketplace. “I thought you said we were going shopping.”
Aunt Margot crinkled her nose. “No, of course not.”
I was a bit taken aback. “What? Why not? What’s wrong with Mandarin Market?”
“Nothing.” Her lips drooped. “If you’re a commoner.”
Uncle Hank came up behind me, taking both shoulders in his hands and giving me gentle push forward. My feet trudged up the inclined path with his guidance. “Due to the family’s status, we live our lives a bit differently than how you and Zeineb live back with the undermen.”
He had my attention. “In what way?”
“For one, it’s unwise and a tad tacky to publicly congregate with the commoners.” Aunt Margot smacked her lips.
“Well, that’s an extreme point of view,” Uncle Hank said. “What I was getting at is that in order to preserve our privacy we do certain things.”
“Is it extreme?” Margot asked. “How many commoners have you befriended?”
“Plenty back at Blacksaw.”
“And are you still in contact with them?”
He sighed. “No, but that’s because half of them are dead, and the other half…” Uncle Hank shrugged. “I just find socializing outside of the family to be more of a chore than anything. With commoners, you’re expected to be this pillar of power and an ideal role model. And with the other highborn families, it can transform into a dick-measuring contest real fast.”
I cupped hand to my mouth to keep from roaring with laughter.
“That’s your opinion,” Aunt Margot said. “We’re all entitled to have one, but I think you’re wrong.”
His hands fell from my shoulders as he scoffed. “We’re never going to see eye to eye on this, and you know it. I think I’m right because this has always been my life, and you think you’re right because you come from a common household.”
The idea hit me like a ton of bricks. Aunt Margot had been a part of the family for the entirety of my life. Not once had I ever considered her to be anything but one of us. “If it’s inappropriate for highborns to interact with commoners, then how did you two end up together?”
“Oh! I think this is it.” Aunt Margot pointed to sangria red door. It was rather unassuming, lacking any decoration or marker to identify where it led. The mountain curled around it, as though it were trying to swallow the door whole.
“We’re going through the back?” Uncle Hank asked.
“Unless you’re ready to announce Zuri’s existence to the entire world.”
“The back is good.” He nodded.
The three us climbed the several steps and slipped around the deep dusky red door. The room we entered was anything but simple. It was a posh square with a plush white rug and a pleasing cream colored the walls. The ceiling had a slight dome to it, making the room feel larger than it really was.
“Welcome, Lord and Lady Ebenmore.” A man stood at the end of the room, blocking the only pathway out. His black hair had been combed back into perfection, and a dark burgundy suit hung from his body. “And guest.” His eyes moved to me but didn’t linger. “Your presence is always such a treat.”
“You’re too kind, Edward.” Aunt Margot smiled with a noticeable hint of blush on her cheeks. “We appreciate you accepting our last-minute request for a private viewing. I remember how difficult these things can be to arrange.”
His face warmed, lessening his formal appearance. “We would never refuse the chance to have the Ebenmores grace our halls with their revered presence. Especially given how elusive the two of you have become.” He cocked an eyebrow.
“Overexposure is never good for business,” Uncle Hank said.
“I understand and sympathize.” His tone made me think otherwise. Edward extended his arm out to Aunt Margot. “If you’ll kindly follow me. I will lead you to your rooms.” His movement was rigid like a soldier’s, but he carried himself with such ceremonial grace.
Aunt Margot took his arm without hesitation. She sighed when they touched and melted in her kitten heels. Uncle Hank responded with a very obvious eye roll. “It’s okay, Hank,” Aunt Margot began. “You’ll always be my one and only.”
Without another word, Edward led us through the vaulted hallway. The antique herringbone floor was protected with a red Persian runner that acted like a red carpet walk. Gold sconces dotted the walls, illuminating the centuries old portraits and fragile vases, It gave me museum vibes but was short-lived.
Edward guided us through a pair of gleaming white french doors and promptly closed them behind us. “As requested, we have asked that vendors leave their wares for your perusal and step out. All transactions will be processed through the Burgundy Exchange in order to maintain your anonymity. If you would like, I will remain and note everything…”
He continued reciting protocol, but my mind was consumed by the tables upon tables of goods and wares, standing at attention in never ending rows. It spanned the length of three large interconnected halls, separated only by gigantic white archways. Racks of clothing raced the entirety of the back wall with black and white outfits consuming a little more than half of the available room.
“Yes, I think keeping you with us would make things a lot easier,” my aunt answered.
“As you wish.” Edward reached into the inside of his coat jacket and retrieved a fountain pen that appeared to be older than my uncle.
“Let’s start with the required list, then we’ll select the extras.” Aunt Margot’s eyes glided over to Uncle Hank with an expectant air hanging onto her stare.
His tawny colored cheeks heated to a blushing red as he squirmed in his shoes. “I thought you were bringing it,” he mumbled.
Her brow lifted. “I specifically told you this morning to fold it and put it in your jacket pocket.”
“I have all school lists on file,” Edward chimed in. “Which institute will she be attending?”
“Blacksaw,” Uncle Hank answered.
“Blacksaw, of course.” The words sauntered off his tongue with a lazy ease. “What a silly question to ask an Ebenmore.” I wasn’t sure if he had pieced together how I was related to Uncle Hank and Aunt Margot, but there was no denying he now knew that I wasn’t just a family friend but the next generation. “Shall we begin? I have ordered refreshments to arrive in about ninety minutes.”
Aunt Margot turned around, facing a row of tables littered with creams and rejuvenating wraps for worn hands. “Yes, let’s begin.”
The first item on the list was a crystalline distillation set, casted to extract and infuse essences one through thirt
y-three. The rule of thumb was the fewer essences the set could handle, the more reliable and sturdy it would be. This, combined with the fact that essences one through thirty-three were consider very basic and pliable essences, made it a near guarantee to never break. But Uncle Hank swore up and down that he witnessed several classmates’ sets shatter, and therefore, we would be purchasing a leaded crystalline distillation set at nearly five times the cost.
“We don’t even know if she’ll be any good at distillation much less enjoy it.” Aunt Margot pushed.
“Then she’ll never have to worry about replacing the set.” He shrugged.
“Except when she moves onto the following years in school and they begin to require thirty-four through sixty-six and onward,” Edward added. I thought it was rather brave of him but neither Aunt Margot or Uncle Hank appeared taken aback.
“That’s if she moves on,” Aunt Margot muttered.
Edward tilted his head with a small smirk on his lips. “Surely, you’re not insinuating that an Ebenmore would be held back.” His weight shifted from one foot to the other. “Even if she never cracked open a book or prepared for exams, the familial ability alone would carry her into her fourth year at the very least.”
Margot sighed. There was tension shared between the three of us, and judging by the uneasy look on Edward’s face, he sensed it as well but couldn’t fathom what it could possibly be. He cleared his throat. “Just as a reminder, Burgundy Exchange policy states that all conversations and information shared between client and associate shall remain strictly confidential. Should a representative of the Burgundy Exchange break that contract, he or she shall not receive a full trial but arbitration administered by the client with punishment ranging from imprisonment in Luciveld or in the most extreme circumstances, death.”
Aunt Margot released her breath. “Bloody hell that’s barbaric. They’ve really tightened the noose around here, haven’t they?”
Edward didn’t reply.
She sighed, exasperated. “We aren’t certain that Zuri has the Ebenmore ability.” My chest tightened as I prepared for her to release the maiming remark that I was snuffed. “Her mother, the flup, is the Ebenmore.”
