The child came willingly, offering no resistance to the blanket that was wrapped around her or the worried arms that insisted on holding her. Her eyes were wide as she watched everything, but soon exhaustion began to tug at them and her blinking became slow and heavy.
“What I dun get,” Marla said over the girl’s smoke-darkened head, “is how th’ child is th’ only survivor o’ a lizard attack. Why would he leave one an’ not th’ other two?” Her eyes strayed to where the Cobber’s broken bodies had been pulled from the wreckage, the pair of outlines pronounced under the damp sheets that covered them. “And for tha’ matter,” she continued, almost at a whisper, “wha’s a lone gargoyle doin’ out here?”
Thomas grunted, allowing himself to slump against a crate now that the immediate danger was over. “Wha’ I’m not gettin’ is where th’ lass came from. Th’ Cobbers had no children. An’ even if they did, she don’t look like neither of ‘em.”
Marla knew what he meant. The Cobbers, like most in the area, shared the same pale skin and dark hair. The child dozing in Marla’s lap had bright red hair, teased into thick curls from the wind and the rain, and warm brown skin that looked like it had been sun-kissed from the heat of summer. An impossible feat, considering the harvest was almost done and over with.
Thomas scratched the back of his neck where the sling was tied. “So how she survived surely issa mystery, but no less than how she got ‘ere in th’ first place.”
Marla shared a worried look with him. The child shifted in her arms and, despite her reservations, she tightened her hold around the small body.
“We’ll figure it out,” Marla said to Thomas, resting her chin on the girl’s curly head. “She’ll be safe ‘ere ‘till we do.”
Thomas didn’t look at her, but he nodded his agreement. It was a statement, not a request, and no one argued with Marla once she set her mind.
The wind howled, shifting the rain and the charred wood around them. In Marla’s arms, in the security of the covered wagon, the child slept peacefully, unaware of the chaos around her.
PART I
CHAPTER 1
The barn enveloped her with warmth. Soft bleating slid its way into Phoenix’s consciousness, waking her from her troubled sleep. She lay unmoving, hidden in the hay pile, her eyes still closed as the rest of her senses focused. She could feel coarse straw poking through her clothing, the itch of dried sweat on her skin from the day’s work.
She had been dreaming. A dull sense of fear reverberated in her chest as the sleep-terror’s aftereffects settled in the old scars on her body. She rubbed her thumb against the ones between her fingers, tracing the hardened skin as if she could somehow disperse the lingering sensations of the bad dream. When that didn’t work she flexed her back, trying to stretch the ache from the tightened membrane between her shoulder blades. She concentrated on the soothing smells of the stables. She deserved to rest after all her hard work.
“Wake up!” Another prod to her side made Phoenix realize what had woken her. She clawed at the straw that covered her, struggling momentarily to remove the stalks that had tangled themselves in her curls. She dashed the sleep from her eyes and glared up at Millie.
Millie towered over Phoenix like a furious queen, brandishing a stick with an air of authority that she wasn’t entitled to. “Yer presence has been requested,” Millie announced, her expression sour. The stick dropped with a clatter and she eyed Phoenix with disdain. There was a moment of tense silence, then she huffed dismissively and marched towards the Lodging.
Phoenix bit back a sigh. She had been hiding in the barn since evening’s meal. Becca had kicked her out with a shriek when the cooking fire burned too hot - ruining the food that was being served. Phoenix had been on the other side of the kitchens when it happened, but the blame had still fallen on her. It always did.
Maybe it was time to look for a new hiding spot.
Standing was awkward at first, her long legs protested her body’s weight, and Phoenix spent a moment rubbing the feeling back into her feet before she took her first steps. Harvest had come and gone and she ached all over. She was strong for her fifteen years - as strong as any boy on the farm - and she had kept up with the lot of them to prove her worth. As the only girl working the fields, she didn’t mind exerting herself… but she had planned on a rest period, no matter how brief.
She smoothed out her clothing as she moved and tucked her necklace back under her tunic. Marla had always made her keep it hidden, but that had never stopped it from coming uncovered while she slept. More than once she had found it snarled in her curls when she awoke.
“Hey, Muler,” she greeted the leggy donkey, hobbling to his pen and giving his nose an affectionate rub. Muler flicked a sleepy ear at her.
He was dear to her. The crotchety creature did not like many people, so it was no surprise to anyone that Phoenix had kept him when Marla had passed. He was all she had in this world, and he meant everything to her.
“Be back soon.” Phoenix leaned in and kissed him on his bristly forehead. Giving him a pat, she adjusted his blanket and left the barn.
The wind blew stinging kisses against Phoenix’s cheeks when she stepped outside. It was not long after sunsdown, but the cold season already showed signs of creeping in without the sun’s light to deter it. Dried leaves danced ahead of her on the path, the slow ones crunched underfoot as she trudged to the Lodging.
She could hear sounds of celebration coming from the hall. Notes of merriment met her at the door, then trailed behind her as she bypassed the main room and entered the kitchens. Meetings always happened in the kitchens.
She was unprepared for the amount of people already assembled when she arrived. A few broke off their conversations when they caught sight of her. Several jumped when, unbidden, a door behind her slammed shut from the wind. They made the sign against evil as the flames flared in the hearth; fighting for life against the unexpected attack.
Phoenix glared. They constantly did that - blamed her for strange happenings. Marla had always told her not to mind them, and that they didn’t know any better. Marla’s teachings were often at odds with the practices of farm life. Why she settled here Phoenix would never know, but, once again, Phoenix swallowed her irritation and silently forgave them.
“Phoenix!” Speaker Thomas’s booming voice sliced through the room. “Come here.”
She heard a snicker behind her. She turned to see Millie standing next to a lanky youth named Jobe. The two were leaning against the stone wall, their postures relaxed and familiar in the crowded room. Jobe flicked his attention to Phoenix with a smirk, and Millie gave him a look of hopeless adoration.
Phoenix fought to keep the air in her lungs. It was until only recently that the three of them had been best friends. Two seasons ago they had been inseparable. So much had changed so quickly.
“Speaker Thomas?” Phoenix stopped several foot lengths in front of his seat, as custom dictated.
He looked tired. They all did.
The Speaker was well-known for his large harvests; an ambition that kept both the farmstead unified and him elected as the voice in charge. He was the one who represented them to the Proper, and he was the one who spoke to the Manor when necessary. His voice was law.
“Phoenix, sit down.”
The Speaker was at the head of the table. She sat several seats down and angled her body so that she faced him, ignoring the others in the room. She made sure that she was unable to see Millie’s gloating expression.
The Speaker appraised her silently for a moment, and Phoenix resisted the urge to squirm under his gaze. Phoenix became acutely aware of how dirty she was, and how unprepared she was for this meeting. She noted that everyone else in the room had cleaned themselves up and were dressed appropriately for the evening’s festivities, making her stick out like a lame foal.
Speaker Thomas looked around the room slowly. A bustling sound began as those assembled started up their conversations, or became instantly absorbed in the menial tasks
that they had been performing at the kitchens preparation tables.
Phoenix could still feel attention on her, but there was a look of satisfaction on the Speaker’s ruddy face as he turned back to her.
“I wanted t’ thank you fer all yer help wit’ th’ harvest. Dylan said you were quite th’ worker.”
Phoenix felt her cheeks redden with relief. “T-thank you.” It had been difficult convincing Dylan to let a girl work the harvest, so she had tried her hardest not to give him a reason to fault her.
Slowly, he ran his hand through his hair and looked away. He was obviously displeased about something, and Phoenix felt a tightening in her stomach.
“Th’ issue now, however, is where you’ll stay.”
Phoenix knew what he meant. With the Healer’s passing during the thaw and the seizure of her things, it had been easy enough to find places to sleep during the warmer weather. But now that the cold season was coming, the outdoors and the barn were no longer an option.
Phoenix felt a wave of apprehension wash over her. She already had her answer prepared, but she had counted on coming to him. “I have no trouble workin’ fer m’ room an’ board, Speaker. Muler’s, too.” There was a long pause and Phoenix cleared her throat. “I’ve worked in th’ kitchens every cold season. I already know most of the recipes by heart, an’ Becca always says wha’ a help I am...”
She looked around at those assembled to find Becca, hoping for some form of affirmation to her claim. When she located her, the woman was busily inspecting the hem of her bulging apron and seemed to be unaware of the girl’s pleading look. Phoenix got a sinking feeling in her stomach.
Speaker Thomas shook his head. “Yer a hard worker, Phoenix. Any man ‘ere who says otherwise is a liar.” He said the last part slowly, as if it pained him to admit it. “But be tha’ as it may, we can’t ‘ave a girl runnin’ around wild. It ain’t proper an’ you knows it. Now, we’ve ‘ad-”
“So if I was a boy it’d be proper then?” Phoenix’s outrage guttered into embarrassment when she realized she had interrupted him. Marla had always warned her about her temper. She would have to keep a better eye on it now that she was living on the farm.
The Speaker paused, surprised at being cut off, then his expression hardened. He opened his mouth, but was forced to pause as a clamor came from the hall.
Phoenix shifted positions in her chair, aware of the bite of the hard wood beneath her and the damp chill that clung to the stone floor. The flames flickered in the hearth as if mirroring her mood.
“We’ve ‘ad,” he continued, when the noise level died down, “an excellent offer. Herder Samuel’s lookin’ fer someone t’ help out tendin’ his home; eventually even t’ run everythin’ fer him...”
She stared at him in disbelief. Millie’s nasty snicker was the only thing to break through her shock.
She knew of Samuel. Samuel was a goat-herder who lived between the Farm and the Proper. His wife had died during the thaw, same as Marla, and he had been left alone to rear two boys - the oldest of which was only half her age. They all kept mainly to themselves, so Phoenix had hardly ever had the chance to meet with him.
“... But he’s so old.”
Thomas’s lips pressed into a thin line. “He’s agreed t’ wait until you settle in before makin’ anythin’ official. He’s even offered space t’ house yer beastie. You have t’ accept such a generous offer. Don’t disgrace us wit’ yer bad manners.”
Phoenix hated to admit it, but he was right. The offer was more than reasonable with room for Muler. She was Bloodless - she had no worth, no stature: no family to arrange marriages; no security for suitors who may be interested. She knew it was common for a Speaker to arrange a contract in this case when enlisted, but she had never entered an agreement with him to negotiate anything on her behalf.
“I don’t accept,” she said softly.
The following silence was profound. The wood crackling in the hearth was the only noise in the room. Thomas’s word was rarely rejected, and never once by a child or girl. His reaction was instantaneous. His face flushed as he jumped to his feet, knocking back his heavy wooden chair with a large thud.
“What?” he demanded. Menace laced the single word.
Phoenix sat very still in her chair. She had never seen him so furious.
“I don’t accept,” she repeated, shakily. “But thank you,” she added as an afterthought, remembering what he said about having good manners.
No one moved. Most were trying very hard not to draw attention to themselves while simultaneously trying to hear everything that was said.
“Cast her out,” said a quiet voice with bell-like clarity. If anyone else had heard Millie they gave no sign. Thomas fixed Millie with a hard stare and Phoenix heard the girl shrink back. After a moment his attention returned to her.
“It ain’t a request,” he said shortly, recovering his temper.
Phoenix began to tremble. She tried hard to keep her body from shaking, but it wouldn’t work. Tears filled her eyes. “I’m a hard worker. You said so yerself! Me an’ Muler, we’ll-”
“It ain’t no request!” he repeated. Losing his composure, Thomas kicked the fallen chair. It slid across the stone floor and into the woodpile, causing a small log to roll into the fire. A spray of sparks hissed across the floor. “You got no place here! We dun want you! Yer more trouble than yer worth. You have been ever since we pulled you outta tha’ barn. You an’ yer crossbreed - you jus’ take up space. An’ only by m’ allowance did tha’ happen. Well, I ain’t allowin’ it no more!”
Phoenix held back a sob in the silence that followed. Speaker Thomas calmed himself before pointing a thick finger at her face. “Take yer mule, an’ get t’ th’ herder’s, or pay us back fer board an’ feed. Either way, I want you outta here by th’ end o’ th’ week.”
More clamoring came from the hall. Several people called for the Speaker; their voices carrying a foreign cheerfulness to the room.
Speaker Thomas adjusted his tunic and turned on his heel, his boots clicking on the floor as he left the room. He’d said all that he had needed to say. There was no need for him to waste any more of his time on her.
Quietly, those assembled filed out after him. Millie sneered at Phoenix as she left, and Jobe paused long enough to spare her a pitying glance before he left the room. Becca sniffed and blotted her eye with her apron as she shuffled past, but none of the others even acknowledged her. They laughed with excitement and hurried towards the hall. Phoenix wasn’t surprised. She knew that they had only been there for the gossiping rights.
She watched them go without a sound, feeling too numb to move. The idea that she owed the Lodging had never occurred to her. She had done nothing but work from sunsup to sunsdown, and, somehow, she still owed for the time that she had stayed here.
Alone, Phoenix hung her head as helplessness washed over her. Her breathing became ragged and she began to cry in earnest. Avondale Farm was the only home she had left. These were the only people she had ever known. How could they do this to her?
None of this would have happened if Marla were still alive. She would still have somewhere to belong and someone to care about her. Someone to vouch for her.
An angry pop from the hearth distracted her. The fire had found the new log and consumed it greedily, shedding a renewed light throughout the empty room.
Limply, she dragged herself towards it and sat in the growing glare of the fire. She outstretched her hands and felt her fingers absorb the new heat, helping to soothe her agitated state. The idea that she owed the Speaker for anything, especially after all of her hard work, was ridiculous. She had worked for her keep and then some. She wasn’t about to let him trade her for any additional profit.
She had a week to work with. The Speaker’s anger would be terrible, his loss of control was evidence of that, but if she could outrun it...
Her resolve strengthened with each passing moment. Phoenix waited for the drums to start up, signaling the b
eginning of the dancing. Standing, she slipped from the kitchens and into the back of the hall.
The long tables had been pushed aside. The center of the room had been cleared and couples had taken up with each other to twirl around on the dance floor, switching with one another as the song progressed.
Millie and Jobe were in the center of the room. The Speaker was off to the side, his back to her, clapping self-importantly to the beat. No one noticed her slink along the back wall.
Phoenix’s stomach protested. Whether she was hungry or anxious she couldn’t tell, but she hurried along to the back banquet table. Spying a discarded linen, Phoenix quickly filled it with the closest foodstuffs. When she finished, she wrapped the ends over each other and tied them together.
While everyone was distracted, while they celebrated the fruit of her labours, she slipped out of the Lodging and back towards the barn.
CHAPTER 2
It was raining. It had been raining non-stop for hours, the kind of rain that clung to everything and permeated through the thickest clothing layers. Even the clouds seemed tired of crying for half the day. Phoenix knew she was tired of it.
Despite the rain, and the constant flow of water, the ground remained hard with the cold, refusing to allow the smallest drop between its cracks. In retaliation, the rain pooled in the ruts and dips of the road, the puddles resembling clusters of ponds that stretched endlessly before her. They reflected the clouds, bleak and grey in the waning light.
Phoenix surveyed the road ahead with a frown. It would be sunsdown soon, and there was still no sign of the next town. She was unprepared. She was unfamiliar with this area, and as such she had no good idea of where to camp… or how. What was worse, her carrysack was already emptied of the small amount of food she had brought.
Muler shifted uncomfortably at the foot of the bridge where they stood, giving what Phoenix thought was an exaggerated snort of disgust.
Ashes Page 2
