EPIC: Fourteen Books of Fantasy (38 page)

‘Who? Jemely?’

I shook my head. ‘No, Mama. I can’t see. I might burn her like I burned my eyes.’

Once again Varago took his time before responding. ‘You must take care then. I know this is hard, but there is no one else to help you. You’re a big girl now. Listen to your instincts. You can use your nose, your ears, and your fingers to substitute your eyesight. Many people live their lives in darkness. Your mother depends on
you.’

‘How long will she be sick?’

He slurped down the rest of his soup. ‘This is a strange case. I can’t be sure she’ll ever recover the use of her legs. But, child, you can be of help to your dear mama. You have legs and arms, and she has arms, too. When she is stronger, you can work together.’

Yes
. I could make up for it. All of it. My uncle’s and father’s deaths, Mother’s sickness. I could make things better. I would take care of her.

‘With more food and drink, she will regain her strength. Ask Jemely for help if you need it.’

He threw water on the fire as it sizzled and hissed. He did that several more times until the room was smoky and the fire put out. I coughed.

‘Time for bed,’ he said. ‘I’ll take you to your room.’

Out of nowhere, the memory of my uncle attacking me came to mind. Varago was an adult like my uncle. He might want to hurt me. Maybe he would turn on me and try to drown me as Uncle Garrad had. My stomach lurched, and I took a step back.

‘Adenine? What is it?’

‘I-I want to stay with Mama.’

‘But of course…’ he trailed off, seemingly confused about something. ‘Jemely will come at daybreak. She will come upstairs to the kitchen.’ I nodded, and he patted me on the head. ‘Good girl. Get some sleep and drink lots of water.’

He said nothing more. His boots scraped across the room, and he took the stone steps down to Mystoria.

When I heard the back door close, I moved towards where I thought the basin used to be, but found nothing. My hands were grimy. I needed to wash them and get rid of the filth. I gave up and stumbled around until I eventually found Mother’s bed. I felt my way around to the side and pulled back the covers. The faint smell of her prolonged stay in bed reached my nostrils. While Varago had changed the sheets it was obvious that she had soaked the underlays. She would need new bed filling. Eventually, I became used to the lingering smell. I listened for her deep, slow breathing. She was alive, and she was going to stay alive. I grasped her hand. It was warmer, and I reminded myself to give her the rest of the soup in the morning. Everything had to change. I had so many fears, knowing that the coming days would be as hard as the ones that had already passed.

Maybe even harder.

Chapter VIII

T
HE
NEXT
MORNING
, I
JERKED
awake at the sound of a knock on Mother’s bedroom door. I sat up. ‘W-Who’s there?’

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,’ an unfamiliar voice said. ‘I’m Jemely, Varago’s niece. He said I’d be by today, right? I’ve brought a meat pie and basics for you and your mother.’

I roused Mother with a shake of her shoulder. ‘Mama?’

‘Mmmm…’

‘Mama, wake up.’

‘What is it?’ She sat up a little. ’Oh, Jemely. How nice to see you. Come in. This is…’

Mother seemed to have forgotten my name. The pause continued, and I thought,
I’m Adenine, your daughter.

‘This is my brother-in-law’s child. Her name is Adenine.’

That hurt, but I knew better than to correct her in front of the stranger.

‘Sorry to hear of your father’s death, Adenine. And your brother-in-law’s death,

Capacia,’ Jemely said.

Brother-in-law? Mother was telling Jemely that Uncle Garrad was my father. The shock and the rejection made me want to curl up in my attic bed and shut out the world.

‘Thank you. It happened a long time ago. And please excuse… well, I’ve not been out of bed for four days. So there might…’ Mother hesitated. ‘The smell…’

‘Say no more. I hadn’t even noticed it,’ Jemely said in a friendly voice.

But I was discontent. Mother told a stranger that I wasn’t her daughter, and all she could worry over was how she smelled? I squashed down the pressure inside me that bubbled and swelled, threatening to erupt as tears on my face.

‘That’s kind of you,’ Mother replied. ‘And thank you for your help today.’

‘Think nothin’ of it. Well, best be getting started in the kitchen then,’ Jemely said, and I heard her walk away.

Still upset with Mother, I no longer wanted to be in the bed beside her. I flinched as my feet touched the cold floor. I took a step, then another, and straightened my posture bringing my arms out in front of me, my fingers searching for the far wall.

‘How many steps, Adenine?’ Mother asked.

I stopped. ‘What?’

‘How many steps from the edge of the bed to that wall?’

‘I don’t know.’ I was confused by her question and became worried I’d done something wrong. Why did she tolerate me? It would be easier for her if I wasn’t even alive. She could throw me out on the street or feed me to the forest wolves. That would be easier for everyone.

‘If you know how many steps it takes to get from one place to another, you’ll never be lost.’

Without sight, I had no way of measuring distance, but I could measure my steps. Her idea was clever, and I was reminded why I’d always admired her: she was smart, a trait I lacked.

‘And, Adenine?’

‘Yes, Mama?’

‘Put your blindfold on. Never ever forget to wear it.’

‘Why?’

‘So people know you are blind without having to see your scarred eyes.’

I knew it. My eyes were ugly. Uncle Garrad once said I was a prettier than any girl he’d ever met. But then, I couldn’t trust anything he’d ever told me. If he could lie about loving me, then he could lie about everything.

The night before, I had gone to sleep with the blindfold on.
It must still be on the bed,
I thought and found it entangled amongst the bedclothes. I folded it on the horizontal and fastened the ends at the back of my head. Then, I made my way back to the wall taking Mother’s instruction and counting my steps.
Five.

Not only could I measure the distance between features of the house, but I could judge the angle of one straight surface against another. I turned to the right and guessed that if I walked straight, I would meet the green wardrobe. I took three steps forward, and my right hand found the grainy timber. I raised my left arm to the side and felt only air—the doorway.

‘Why don’t you go help Jemely?’

‘Yes, Mama.’

‘Bring me some water too, please.’

‘Yes, Mama.’ I turned to face the living room. Jemely rattled about in the kitchen, and the coals sizzled and popped in the hearth as she stoked the fire. More rustling noises were followed by the banging of pots. The kitchen area was to my right, so I followed the wall with my right hand, trailing it over rough stone brick. I discovered the kitchen counter.

Seven steps,
I concluded upon reaching the bench. Jemely was next to me, chopping at something with a knife, and I decided to pick up objects and try to identify them. The surface of the counter was at chest height, which meant I could reach quite easily. I identified a spoon; I found a clove of garlic. At first, I wasn’t sure what it was until I sniffed my fingers. There were other straight, twisted, bowed, and spiny instruments that I couldn’t make out at all, and that frustrated me.

‘I’m heating up this leftover stew from last night. It’s tasteless. Did you make it?’ Jemely asked.

I lowered my head. ‘No. Varago—’

‘Oh, that makes sense. My uncle couldn’t cook to save his life. I guess that’s why he became a doctor instead.’ She snorted. ‘Fetch me some salt.’

I paused. Varago had said that Jemely couldn’t catch my illness, but what if she did?

‘Well?’

‘Don’t I need to wash my hands first?’

‘It’s just salt. I’m boiling this dish anyway. Just fetch it.’ She sounded irritated.

‘I don’t know where to find it.’

Jemely groaned. ‘Pantry. And you best be paying attention to all this, Adenine. I got a life, you know.’

The pantry was to the right of the kitchen bench. With my fingertips, I felt a rectangular wooden latch holding the door in place. I pulled down on a piece of rope and heard a click, followed by the long creak of door hinges. A warm burst of air fragranced the kitchen, carrying hints of thyme, rosemary, and other spices. Grabbing a shelf, I stood on my toes and handled various pots and bowls of different sizes.

‘Salt is in a bag, Adenine,’ Jemely said, her tone irritable.

I was taking too long. I was doing everything wrong. On the floor were barrels of vegetables—potatoes, leeks, carrots, and onions. One container was smaller than the rest, and inside was a hessian bag tied with twine and full of salt.

‘How much?’ I asked.

‘How much do you think?’ she snapped. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to be a witch. I’m a little tired. One handful should do it.’

I found straw-like string that I untied. Cupping my hands, I scooped the sharp granules into my palms and moved back towards Jemely, who I bumped into.

‘Watch where you’re—’

‘Sorry.’

‘Well, be more careful.’

I put out my hands, and when I felt her hands under mine, I let the salt slip between the gaps in my fingers. Remembering Mother’s thirst, I brushed the leftover salt grains onto the floor and found the water barrel alongside the kitchen counter.

Four steps from the pantry to the water barrel
. On the bottom shelf of the kitchen bench were cups and mugs. I used a cup to scoop up the liquid and then froze, realising my dilemma. If I went back the way I had come, I might spill water on Jemely. That meant I had to walk out into the middle of the living room, without a wall or bench to guide me.

There were seven steps from my mother’s room to the kitchen counter. So it should take seven steps from the barrel to the middle of the living room to put me in line with Mother’s bedroom. Slowly, I shuffled forwards, making my way around a table and some chairs. The process seemed to take forever.

‘That’s it, Adenine. I can see you now. Walk towards my voice,’ Mother called.

My knees hit the end of her bed after eight steps. I turned left and took two more steps.

‘Now turn to face me,’ she said. Her enthusiasm and interest in me was overwhelming.

I smiled, feeling proud of myself. Within three paces, the bowl was removed from my hands.

‘Well done. You’re getting good at this,’ Mother said, and my face warmed.

Jemely brought in the food, and Mother and I ate our chicken and potato stew in silence. Jemely insisted I drink two bowlfuls of water.

‘But I’m so full,’ I protested.

‘Doctor’s orders,’ Jemely answered, and I could feel her standing over me while I drank it.

Varago had seemed a kind man, and I imagined him in his house, saving lives and curing diseases. I made a note to ask Jemely questions about being a doctor’s assistant when her mood had improved. One thing continued to niggle at me. I had not known Varago, yet he had known me.

‘Ma—’ I stopped. I wondered if I would embarrass her by calling her Mama in front of Jemely. ‘Capacia,’ I said instead and waited.

‘Yes, child?’ she replied, and I knew then that she no longer wanted to own up to me as a daughter. I had shamed her somehow.

‘Varago knew who I was. How did he know?’

‘When you were born, Varago helped your mother give birth to you. Then when you burned your eyes with boiling water, Varago helped care for you. Your father, Garrad, told me this.’

I remembered thinking that the man in my room that night was my uncle. But it had been the doctor.

The bed dipped, and I knew Jemely had sat down.

‘That happened a while back didn’t it?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ Mother said, and there was a sudden tension in the air.

‘I’ve heard of you before.’ Jemely tapped the side of my arm, and I flinched. Even though Varago said Jemely was immune to my sickness, maybe she wasn’t. Maybe Varago didn’t really understand just how sick I was. Mother always said that no one should touch me. ‘Didn’t know you’d gone blind, though,’ she continued.

‘She was very young,’ Mother said.

I hadn’t been that young. Ten wasn’t young enough to not know but somehow I always struggled to remember the details of blinding myself. I remembered knocking over a bucket of boiled water, but didn’t remember the water getting in my eyes. I’d always been a fast healer, so that explained why I didn’t have more burns, but for some reason, my eyes didn’t heal.

‘Strange, I thought the girl had…’ Jemely paused. ‘Hm, never mind.’ But there was something in her tone, disbelief maybe, or surprise. ‘And you didn’t get burned anywhere else, either? Guess you’re a lucky one. I’ve seen bubbled skin before, like blisters, deep burns on a woman. She was ruined. No chance of marriage for that one. You make yourself useful, and one day, you’ll be just as good as any housewife. Look at you. You’re prettier than lots of girls in this town. That’ll count for more than havin’ eyes.’

‘She’s still young yet. Her eyes might heal,’ Mother said.

‘Nah. Not this one. Burned too young and too much. Varago told me yesterday.’

Despite mother’s reassurances, I’d never had any real hope that I would see again, but to know that Varago’s assistant had confirmed my worst fears left me feeling horrible and hopeless. Why had Mother kept saying they would heal?

‘Well, Adenine, we have to bathe and dress your aunt now. Smell that odour? We have to clean her and the bed every day. Understand?’

My stomach churned when Jemely drew my attention to the soiled bed sheets. They smelled like rotting food.

‘And I don’t mind doing your laundry for now, Capacia, but Adenine here will have to learn to do it for you. I’m not making a habit of being a maid. I’m a doctor’s assistant.’

Mother had told me that women in Senya were not allowed to do certain jobs. And while Jemely could assist a doctor, she would never be allowed to practice as one.

‘Hardly fair to expect Adenine to cart clothes and sheets down to the river,’ Mother said. ‘What if I pay you for your trouble and you teach Adenine to change my sheets? I think she can learn to do most of it.’