Doubleborn (13 page)

“People would steal beer,” said Tamrin, “but the tavern yard’s open. He doesn’t want people looking in.”

“We’d better go and eat, then, and think it through.”

The gate was painted dark blue, with a black iron handle. Tamrin put her hand to the handle and turned it slowly, softly. It turned, but the gate did not give way.

“Locked. Bolted,” she said. “Made very safe. No sealing spell, though.”

“Can you open it?”

“Of course I can. If I want to. But can I open it without him knowing?”

“Can you?”

“I don’t know. I think so. I can’t feel an alarm spell.”

Solder stood on his barrel and tried to peer over the wall. Tamrin grabbed his hand and pulled him so he was crouching above her.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking to see if he’s there.”

She tugged and he dropped to the ground, very lightly for someone who didn’t seem very keen on walking or standing.

“And what if he sees you?”

“I’ll wave.”

Tamrin gaped.

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll wave,” he said. “And smile.”

“What are you thinking of?”

He hoisted his barrel and trotted off. Tamrin hadn’t finished telling him off and she felt put out at having to do it while she was keeping up with him.

“It’s a roffle thing,” said Solder.

He led her from the alley into the street, along, left and right and into a busier road.

“Normally, if someone’s spying on someone else and they get caught, they duck and hide or look away and it’s easy to see if they’ve been spying. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“What you should do, if you’re caught spying, is wave and smile. Sometimes I put my thumbs up.”

“Why do you do that?”

“No sensible spy is going to draw attention to himself, is he? Think about it. So, if I do that, I’m not a spy, I’m just nosy, and a bit stupid. See?”

Tamrin did see, and she felt a new admiration for Solder at the same time as she began to feel a little nervous of him. All this time she had thought he was a cheerful but rather silly boy. Now she began to wonder what he thought of her and what he was doing following her so obviously.

“Here’s a place,” he said, and he darted into an open doorway, found a table by the wall and sat down ready to order something to eat.

Solder had lots of ideas for how they could spy on the tailor.

“Will you just shut up,” said Tamrin. “I’m trying to think.”

She pulled a “sorry” face straight away because she thought she’d hurt his feelings. Solder grinned at her, ate a piece of cheese and said, “Or we could climb on the roof and I could lower you down on a piece of rope and you could look through his window.”

“No. Really. Please just shut up.”

“Are you going to pay for this?” he asked.

They had eaten a big meal. Or he had. Tamrin only had a bowl of soup and some bread and a mug of water.

“I haven’t got any money,” she said. “You’ll have to pay.”

Solder finished his cheese quickly.

“We’ll have to make a run for it,” he said.

“We can’t do that.”

Tamrin was shocked at his easy acceptance that they could steal their food and run away.

“Magic some money,” he suggested.

The woman who had served them was watching their whispered conference. She moved slowly and not completely unobtrusively towards the door. They couldn’t get out without pushing her out of the way. She was short, fairly slim and with close-cut black hair, but she looked as though she could put up a fight if they tried to dodge past her.

“I can’t,” said Tamrin.

“You’re a wizard. You can.”

“Yes, I can,” she agreed, “but I can’t.”

He shook his head.

“That’s wizards for you,” he said. “And they say that roffles talk in riddles.”

“I can,” she said. “But I’m not going to. It’s not what magic’s for. It would cost more than the meal’s worth.”

“All right. We’re in trouble, then.”

He grinned at her and waited for her to sort it out.

The woman came over to their table.

“That’s ten shillings and fourpence,” she said. “Please.”

Solder gave her his friendliest smile.

“My friend will settle the bill,” he said.

Tamrin glared at him.

“I’ll pay for my own,” she said. “He can pay for his.”

For the first time, she saw Solder become alarmed.

“That isn’t right,” he said. “And anyway, you haven’t got any money either.”

The woman crossed her arms, stood with her feet slightly apart and stared at them.

“You’re thieves,” she said.

“No,” Tamrin protested.

“What else are you? You’ve stolen food from me. I call that thieving.”

Tamrin found herself close to tears. She couldn’t believe how suddenly she had changed from being a girl who hid in passageways, and learned her lessons, and kept away from people as much as she could, into a bully and now a thief.

She jumped to her feet and shouted at the woman.

“I’m not a thief! I’m not! It was a mistake.”

The woman backed away.

“I’m not a thief. I’m not a bully. I’m not a liar.”

She was really crying now. The tears poured down her face and her nose was running.

She clenched her fist and shook it. She stamped her foot.

The window shimmered and clouded over, grey and heavy. The light in the shop faded. The table they had been sitting at buckled, its legs bent and it collapsed to one side, all the plates falling off and shattering on the floor. The door slammed and was covered in an instant with old ivy. The woman lurched to one side and fell to the floor. Solder grabbed his barrel and stood on it. Tamrin gasped and stopped shaking her fist.

She dragged her sleeve across her face, wet with tears and snot.

“I’m not,” she whispered. “I’m not a thief.”

Her side hurt. Her fist hurt. She tried to unclench it and found she couldn’t move her fingers. They were locked with rage. She looked down at the woman.

“I’m not,” she said. “I’m not a thief.”

The woman nodded and put her hand out. Tamrin took it and helped her to her feet. She leaned in towards Tamrin.

“It’s all right,” she said.

“I’m not,” said Tamrin.

“I’m Jaimar,” she said. “What’s your name?”

“Say it,” said Tamrin. “Say I’m not a thief.”

Jaimar took Tamrin’s hand in hers. She gently unfolded the fingers, disarming the fist.

“No, you’re not,” she said. “You’re not a thief. It was all a mistake.”

Tamrin nodded.

“Say you mean it.”

“I do. I really do mean it. You’re not a thief.”

Tamrin couldn’t stop herself from asking the next question. She knew it was stupid. She knew it was a waste of time, it was just the question she asked herself every day, many times a day. It was the only question she cared about. She asked it without thinking. She asked it from habit, not from the expectation of an answer.

“Who am I?” she asked.

“You’re Shoddle’s girl,” said Jaimar.

“What?”

“Shoddle. The tailor. You’re his girl. You’ve come back.”

Tamrin allowed Jaimar to put her arm around her and lead her out of the shop, through a door at the back and into her own living quarters. Solder trotted after them, his barrel on his back.

Jaimar guided Tamrin, making soft noises of comfort. Tamrin had stopped shouting and sobbing but the tears kept running down her face. She couldn’t stop them. It was still hard to breathe as well.

Tamrin sat when Jaimar led her to a chair. She shrugged her shoulders to indicate that the woman could take her arm away. Jaimar left it there. She sat on the arm of the chair and waited for Tamrin to be ready to speak.

Solder hopped on to his barrel, sat with his legs swinging and surveyed the room.

“This is nice,” he said.

Jaimar put her finger to her lips to tell him to be silent while Tamrin was distressed.

“It’s cosy,” he said.

Jaimar frowned and shook her head. She exaggerated lifting her finger to her lips again, to make sure he understood.

“It’s not cosy like a roffle house,” he said. “But it’s comfortable, and it’s nice and light with that big window. What’s out at the back of the shop? Have you got a garden?”

Jaimar whispered, “Shh. Let’s just think for a moment.”

Tamrin laughed. Dragged her sleeve across her face again. Jaimar produced a big clean handkerchief and gave it to her. Tamrin blew her nose very loud and cleaned herself up.

“You can’t shut roffles up,” said Tamrin. “Not this one, anyway.”

Jaimar smiled.

Solder crossed the room and looked out of the window.

“It’s a lovely garden,” he said. “Is that a medlar tree?”

“Yes.”

“And figs, and a quince. And the orchard is bigger than you’d think.”

The more she got used to Solder the more Tamrin liked him. She appreciated that he had broken the painful mood she had fallen into.

Jaimar took her arm away and moved off the arm of the chair, allowing Tamrin more room.

“What do you know about me?” asked Tamrin. “What did you mean about being Shoddle’s girl?”

“Is he the tailor with the big scissors hanging outside the shop?” asked Solder.

“Yes,” said Jaimar.

“Good.” Solder pointed to Tamrin. “I won’t have to hang you by a rope from the roof now.”

“What’s that?” asked Jaimar.

Tamrin smiled.

“We weren’t going to do that,” she assured her.

Jaimar took another chair and picked up a square of linen she had been embroidering. She found a needle and silk thread and started to sew. Tamrin found it reassuring, and it meant that the woman’s eyes were fixed on something else. They didn’t have to look at one another much now.

“Is Shoddle a friend of yours?” asked Tamrin.

“I sell food in the town,” said Jaimar. “I try to keep on good terms with everyone.”

“So he is a friend?”

“Not everyone is as easy to get on with as everyone else.”

It sounded like a no to Tamrin and she decided not to ask again.

“Do you think I should go and see him?” she asked.

“Well, that would depend on whether you like him a lot.”

“Would you go?”

“If I were you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a difficult question.”

Tamrin took her time and thought about this.

“Are you frightened of him?” she asked at last.

Jaimar concentrated on her sewing.

There was a question that Tamrin was frightened to ask. She had hidden it from herself for a long time. She saw that Jaimar might be able to answer it. And it had all come too soon, too quickly. She thought only the tailor could tell her and now she thought differently. She started to cry silent tears again.

Solder looked out of the window. Jaimar started to stand up and go to her. Tamrin held up a hand to stop her. Jaimar sat back down and concentrated on her sewing. The needle glinted in the sunlight.

Tamrin asked the question. Jaimar heard something and looked up. It was so soft, so hesitant she had not caught it.

“Sorry?”

“Is he my father? The tailor. Is he?”

Each word was stronger than the one before it.

“Oh, no,” said Jaimar. “No. He can’t be.”

“Don’t you know?”

“He’s not. I’m sure of it.”

This was too difficult for Tamrin. Either he was or he wasn’t.

“But do you know?”

Jaimar looked up and they held each other’s gaze.

“I’ll tell you what I know, shall I?”

“Yes.”

Jaimar put her sewing down, started to speak, then picked it up and started again, her eyes occupied.

“It was about twelve, thirteen years ago. Shoddle was making a living. His shop sold clothes enough to keep him, and his work was good enough for most people around here. There were better tailors in bigger towns and richer people went to them.

“He came in here one day for his dinner. He didn’t often do that then. He couldn’t afford to. But this day he was happy as a haystack in the sunshine. He bought the best food I had and he even had a small flask of wine with it. He wouldn’t say much except that he was going off to make some clothes for a rich man a day’s journey away.

“I congratulated him, of course. I was glad to see him go. He wasn’t easy to get on with when he was miserable. Being happy made him even more difficult.

“He was away for weeks. The shop was locked up and I thought that it had better be a good job he’d been offered because he was losing a lot of trade while he was away.

“He came back late at night. The streets are narrow here, as you’ve seen, and we know mostly who comes and goes.

“Anyway, it was late at night. He locked himself in the shop and didn’t appear for days. People knocked on the door and called in to him. At first he didn’t answer. Then, when they started to say they’d better knock the door down to see if he was all right, he called out through the window that he was fine. He was busy. He’d come out in a few days.

“When he finally appeared he carried you in a basket. He came here first and asked for some food.”

Tamrin held up her hand again to stop her.

“What do you mean, he was carrying me in a basket?”

“Just that. We asked him who you were and why he had you. He just wouldn’t answer at first. When we pressed him, and believe me it isn’t easy to press Shoddle for an answer, but when we pressed him he said you were a foundling.”

“What’s a foundling?” asked Solder.

Jaimar hesitated and looked to Tamrin for permission to interrupt her story.

“You’d better tell him or he’ll never stop asking.”

“Sometimes, when people don’t want their babies they leave them on doorsteps or in the town square or somewhere where they know someone will find them and look after them.”

“Why wouldn’t they want them?”

“There are all sorts of reasons,” said Jaimar. “That’s not the important thing. What matters is that they’re found. Foundlings.”

“Why they don’t want them sounds important to me,” he said.

“It really isn’t,” she insisted. “Not in this story.”

Solder shrugged and carried on looking out of the window.

“Where did I come from?” asked Tamrin. “And why had he got me? And what did he do with me? And how did he find me?”