The August 5 (18 page)

“You'd rather put up with the grief than go home?” he asked.

“Well, considering I don't have a home,” she said. “I was Hywel's ward, not a close relation. With him gone, it's not like I can stay in his house.”

“Have you talked to that investigator, Sanneral? Is there any progress?”

“You know him?” Ellie said. “The man couldn't
investigate
his way out of a paper bag. I can't believe our system favors men like that.”

“I met him at the same party where I first talked to Kristin,” Tommy said.

“I was called to the headmaster's office a few weeks ago,” Ellie said. “He asked me a few questions. Dumb questions. He struck me as exceedingly incompetent.”

“I'm sorry you have to go through this, Ellie,” Tommy said.

“Honestly, it doesn't seem real,” Ellie said. “I have to remind myself that Mr. Hywel is a prisoner somewhere. I can't get my head around it. I didn't know him very well. I was only his ward for a few months before he vanished, but the thought of him trapped somewhere is horrible.”

“I hope he's okay,” Tommy said.

“I'm not sure your father does,” Ellie snapped. There was an awkward silence, and then she spoke again. “Sorry, I tend to open my mouth without thinking.”

“You don't need to apologize,” Tommy said. “Whenever we're not in Seminary, you can say whatever you want. About my family. About my hair. About the horrible state of the world.”

“I've been meaning to talk to you about your hair,” Ellie said.

Tommy's hands flew up to the sides of his head while Ellie laughed again.

“Kidding! You're such a girl!” she howled. She was the least self-conscious girl Tommy had ever met. Most Zunft daughters tried to act formal or flirt in this really forced way. Even Kristin had seemed a little unnatural, at least at the dinner party. But there was nothing false about Ellie.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked.

“Do you think you can trust me?” she said.

“Actually, I do,” he told her honestly.

“Why?”

“Because you know what it's like to have your father be the chief administrator,” Tommy said.

“Hywel is
not
my father,” Ellie said. “But that aside, you can tell me whatever you want. It's safe with me.”

“I was in Port Kenney during the Rising,” Tommy said. “Someone had blown up a Zunft warehouse, and soldiers chased me into the forest. I got away from them, but I found this girl lying under a tree. She had burns, as if she'd been in the fire.”

“A cottager?” Ellie asked. “Do you think she might have been one of the rebels?”

“I don't know,” Tommy said.

“What did you do?” Ellie asked.

“I took her to the nearest cottage and left her on the porch,” Tommy said. “Soldiers were patrolling the woods, and I was scared we'd get caught.”

“Did you ever find out who she was?” Ellie asked.

“No, but I worry about her sometimes,” Tommy confessed. “You know what scares me? That I didn't do enough or didn't do the right thing.”

“What would your father have told you to do?” Ellie asked.

“Report her to the passing soldiers,” Tommy answered. “Let them figure out what she was doing there.”

“Where was your father that day?” Ellie asked.

“At the manor,” Tommy answered.

“On Aeren? With you and your brother?”

“Yes. Why?” Tommy asked.

Ellie picked at a thread on her black skirt. Her leather boots were scuffed and unpolished, and the cuffs of her jacket were frayed. Either she didn't care about her appearance or she didn't have enough money to care—either way, Tommy found her all the more endearing.

“I think you did the right thing,” Ellie said after a moment. “It's not like you could take her to your manor house with your father there. And if there were patrols in the woods, you didn't have a lot of time to think your decision through.”

Tommy felt a strange sense of relief. It felt good to finally tell someone about the cottager girl in the lavender dress. Beside him, Ellie frowned as she peered over his shoulder: “Speaking of patrols,” she said.

Three Zunft soldiers entered the park and headed down the path in their direction. They weren't paying any attention to them, but Ellie was obviously uncomfortable.

“Let's head back,” she said. “I need to check on Kristin and then go to the hospital to see Charlotte.”

“Of course.” Tommy understood, but he felt disappointed. When they stood up, she linked arms with him, like they were old friends on an outing. He wondered if the gesture was for the benefit of the soldiers so they would pay less attention to them.

“Let's make a pact,” Ellie said as they strolled back down Dawson Street. “That bench is the safe zone where we can talk about whatever we want. We're going to come back there someday.”

“I can't wait,” Tommy said, and he meant it.

17

END OF BREAD SUBSIDY CAUSES GRIEF

The end of the bread subsidy has triggered riots among the hungry populace of South Sevenna. “People are unable to feed their children,” said one shopkeeper who refused to give her name. “I feel their pain, but I can't afford to give the bread away.”

—
JFA Bulletin,
October 6

Later that night, Tommy sat in the Estoria, a smoky cabaret near the marina. Squeezed between Kristoph and Dennett, Tommy was miserable. The red-light lanterns cast a disturbing glare on the black walls, and the weird shadows distorted people's faces into creepy masks. The other lads—including Bern—were smoking reets and drinking some sickly sweet wine out of long-stemmed glasses. A fake floral scent hung in the air, and it was making Tommy nauseated. Onstage, performers draped in pink tablecloths warbled in falsetto while the crowd—an odd mix of students, professors, and Zunft officers—laughed uproariously at the bawdy jokes.

The painted actors finished their tune, bowed, and shuffled off the stage. Another group of lads stumbled onstage wearing wigs and dresses that resembled the traditional garb of cottager girls from Aeren. The jests in the last skit had made Tommy uncomfortable, and he wasn't interested in hearing them make fun of cottager girls. Tommy stood up abruptly and mumbled something about finding the washroom, but Kristoph grabbed his wrist.

“Grab me another of these, would you, old boy?” Kristoph said, pushing his glass into Tommy's hand.

At the back of the crowded cabaret, there was a smoking lounge with a bar. It was quieter in there, and the tables were only half-full. The server was taking a tray of drinks to a table, so Tommy waited at the gilded bar for her to come back. In the background, he could hear the performers' mocking tone. There were small brass flamingos placed along the bar, and Tommy picked one up, fiddling with the tiny hinged wing.

“Can I help you?” a woman asked from behind the bar.

When Tommy saw her face, he dropped the flamingo. It fell with a thud and pockmarked the shiny wood surface of the bar. The woman's long red hair was pulled back in a thick braid, but her face was unmistakable. Even in the dim light of the bar, Tommy could see the shadows of the burn marks above the collar of her dress. It was the girl in the lavender dress that he'd seen in the forest the day of the August Rising.

“You,” he said in disbelief. “I remember you.”

The girl's eyes grew wide and she glanced around quickly. Tommy wasn't sure if she was looking for an escape or if she was afraid that someone would hear them talking. But they were the only two people at the bar.

“Wait,” Tommy said, leaning forward and talking softly. “I was the one who helped you. I mean, I think I did. I thought the porch would be safer than the forest.”

The girl had regained her composure. She stared at him, her face expressionless.

“I've been worried that you were all right,” Tommy said. He wasn't making much sense, but he kept talking because he wanted her to understand. “I didn't know what to do, but I couldn't leave you out in the storm for the soldiers to find.”

“Thank you,” she said, but she seemed to be speaking through clenched teeth.

“No, don't thank me.” Tommy was feeling flustered. “I wanted to ask … If I did the wrong thing, I'm sorry.”

She picked up a cloth and began drying a glass, but her eyes continued to scan the room over his shoulder.

“I'm Thomas. Tommy. And I'm glad to see that you're all right.”

“You're an estate boy, right? There's only one estate in that area.” The girl knew full well that she was talking to the son of Colston Shore.

“I didn't mean to bother you,” Tommy said. He felt embarrassed that she knew who he was. “I'll let you get back to work.”

He turned to go, but she said, “Emilie.”

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“That's my name,” she said. “And thank you. Really, I mean it. Getting caught would have been a disaster.”

“That storm was a bad one,” Tommy said. The girl tipped her head quizzically, and he realized she had meant getting caught by the Zunft.

“Right, getting caught by the storm would have been a disaster,” she said. “Ocean storms are the worst.”

He got the feeling that she was trying to joke with him, but her face remained humorless. Still, it made him relax a little. At least she didn't seem mad at him anymore.

“Remember the deluge last December?” Tommy said. “That was the worst one I've ever seen.”

“The waves were practically lapping at your door,” the girl said. “We could see the flood from the top of the ridge.”

“And then it started snowing,” Tommy said. “It was the thickest snowfall I'd ever seen. And then thunder that nearly burst my eardrums. It was so surreal.”

“Typhoon, flood, and blizzard—all in one day,” she said.

“They say that was the storm of the century,” Tommy said. “I hope it was more like the storm of the millennium.”

Emilie laughed at his joke, but his comment hadn't been that witty. Tommy wondered if he should let her work, but didn't relish the idea of going back and sitting with the lads. He waited for her to say something, but she was staring intently at the glass in her hand.

“Well, I should be getting back,” Tommy said.

“There's a pub a few blocks south of the river,” she said. “It's called the Plough and Sun. You go over Shadow Bridge, take a right at Connell, and go two blocks east.”

“Is that your local?”

“You should drop by some Saturday night,” she said. “If you don't see me, ask for Emilie Johns. Let me buy you dinner as thanks for not leaving me in the woods.”

“You don't have to buy me dinner,” Tommy said. “You have to put up with too much, working at a place like this, to spend your coin on me.”

“If you don't like this
entertainment
, why are you here?” she asked.

“Mocking people doesn't qualify as entertainment,” Tommy said. “At least not to me.”

“Well, you're the first estate boy to say that, I think,” she said.

“I got dragged here by my brother and his Seminary friends,” Tommy said. “I didn't know what it would be like or I wouldn't have come.”

“Ah,” Emilie said. “Well, the offer for dinner still stands.”

“Sure,” Tommy said.

“I'm always there on Saturday nights. Emilie Johns. Don't forget.”

“Saturday nights,” Tommy said, feeling a little confused both by the invitation and by her persistence. “But would I be … I mean, would it be all right?”

“Well, don't wear a Seminary uniform,” she said. “Or announce your name at the door. But if you act normal, you'll be fine.”

“Normal,” Tommy repeated. “I'll do my best.”

A Zunft officer appeared at Tommy's shoulder and rapped impatiently on the bar with his knuckle.

“If you want to have a seat, I'll bring you that drink, sir,” she said to Tommy even though he hadn't ordered anything.

As he returned to his seat, Tommy ran the conversation through his mind. He couldn't believe that the girl in the lavender dress was here in Sevenna. Her name was Emilie, and she was all right. He hadn't done anything wrong that day after all. Maybe he
would
go to the Plough and Sun some time. Why not? He bet his brother never got an invitation to a cottager pub. If nothing else, he would have a good story to tell Ellie and Kristin.

 

 

When they finally left the cabaret, Tommy sucked in deep breaths of cool air to chase the scent of sweat and smoke from his nose. He couldn't wait to get back to his room and climb into the clean sheets. But instead of heading north to Seminary, the lads headed toward the Lyone River.

“Isn't this the wrong way?' Tommy said.

“Isn't this the wrong way?” Dennett mimicked in a snotty voice.

“My brother has an acute sense of direction,” Bern said. The other boys, including Bern, had had too much to drink. They stomped down the middle of the deserted road like drunken conquerors.

“It's a short detour,” Kristoph assured Tommy.

“To the cottager district? Why?”

“No worries, Tommy,” Bern promised heartily. “You'll like this.”

Tommy wanted to take off and go back alone, but leaving the group would be considered bad form, and Bern would never let him hear the end of it. They crossed the Seventh Stone Bridge onto the quay. By this hour, the lanterns had burned out and Tommy kept tripping over the ruts in the rough road as he followed the other lads. There was a singed smell to the air, as if there had been a recent fire. Someone had pasted rows of large posters along the wooden fences. They showed pen-and-ink portraits of different men, each with a name:
Michael. Brandon. Hector. Jack. Kevin.
And then:
Save the August Five.
Tommy remembered the black-haired woman who spoke in Mast Square. She had said she was the wife of one of the rebel leaders.