The Short Life of Sparrows (2 page)

My fingers flex before reaching for the silver door handle. I jerk my hand back instantly, shaking the burning sting from my palm. The door handle glows, hissing like a branding iron. 
I should’ve knocked
. My knock is a quiet one, and I hope it says I come with the discretion the job requires. I wait. The door remains closed. After placing my ear as near to the door as I can without touching it, I still can’t hear a sound. I knock again.

The grass waves around me, and I turn, expecting the trees from the hill behind me to be moved by the wind as well. No trees sway—but a man is there. He’s dressed in black tailored garments, buttoned in gold. His hair is a much lighter brown than mine, combed meticulously. One golden chain hangs from his neck, the weighted charm on the chain shaped like a talon.

“What brings you here?” His voice is soft and almost pleasant. “I hope you weren’t trying to get a peek of a Seer or a Nightblood. We don’t really like being observed by snooping Ordinaries.”

I hold up the paper, nodding at it. “I came about the job.”

He strides toward me, narrowing his green eyes at the seal as he takes it. “Lil? I wish she’d let me and the other Nightbloods attend to her failing property—if she insists on avoiding magic herself. We do it for Mildred. Has it really come to this? She has no other choice but seeking out an Ordinary?”

Instead of acknowledging the insult, I stand there unmoved. He walks around me, an elfish smile spreading on his cheeks. “Come with me.”

Keeping a few feet in between us gives me some comfort, although I don’t know why I crave the distance. So far he hasn’t done anything specifically to make me feel threatened.  He pushes down on the latch as he uses his shoulder to nudge it open. I grip tighter to the strap of my bag, holding it to my chest as I follow. The houses are more like tiny palaces than living quarters. Ornate purple trim covers one house’s windows, as if it were a cake for frosting. Another house has an ivory colored walkway, pristine and unmarked by weather or wear.

The Nightblood smiles over his shoulder again. “Nothing Ordinary here, huh?”

“No,” I answer. A group of elderly women sits around a table under a canopy painted in orange rosebuds. There’s a fattened hog dressed in ruffles, sitting like a pet at the side of one of them. The ashen women in black lace look up from their teacups, and even though I pass them quickly I can tell their pitted eyes stay with me. I couldn’t keep their gaze anyway, not when they have the appearance of cadavers who’ve crawled out of their graves.

“I’m Lucas,” he says.
I note that he doesn’t ask for my name
. Maybe he already knows it. I have no way of knowing what a Nightblood is capable of, and I don’t trust this place enough to ask questions yet. “Lil and my mother are very close. She’s like an aunt to me. I try to do what I can to keep my family safe. I hope you understand and respect what I’m saying. You’re only a visitor, is what I’m getting at. Do you have any family?”

“No.”

“Hmm.” He takes a sharp turn to the left, and I see that down the way is a field much like the one on the outside of the fence. The houses thin. I know where we’re heading, because the last house on the row looks as out of place as I do. With bowed steps and a slanted roof that bears a lot of rot, the poorhouse I came from seems statelier than I previously regarded it.

He jogs up the stairs, opening the door without pausing to knock. “Lil?”

Instead of going inside, I plant my feet at the base of the stairs. I couldn’t respectfully enter a stranger’s home without the owner inviting me in, witch or not. A woman in her late forties emerges in the open door frame, and I’ve prepared my best unaffected face in case her skin is as deathly as the others we saw. She looks very much alive, not drained of color like the old women sipping tea. Wiping her hands on her apron, she is otherwise as still as I am. I must be a sight, because she squeezes her knuckles with her other hand as she studies my shirt that is a size too small.

“I’m here to inquire about work.”

“Come in then,” she replies, batting a hand at me. “Before the entire neighborhood comes out to stare at you.”

The stairs groan every time my boots meet them. Lucas scoots around me as I try to enter. He puts his icy hand on my elbow. “Remember what I said? No trouble, huh?”

Lil stalls from untying her apron, and she juts her chin a bit. “Lucas, your protection is very unnecessary but thank you for the sentiment. I may not be a practicing Seer, but I assure you I’m quite accurate with a rifle. And this Ordinary doesn’t act intimidating, does he?” She says it with an inflection that notes some approval of me, and I wonder at the woman who moves about and lives like an Ordinary.

Lucas releases my sleeve. There’s not a lot I can do to encourage him to back off, but it’s instinctual for me to lock my back teeth at someone being in my space. I’m almost afraid he’ll sniff me because he’s looking at me the way a starved dog eyes a slab of meat. “No, I don’t suppose he will be any trouble.” He’s shorter and wiry. Without his rumored abilities to summon hellish powers, I’m sure I could daze him with one good thump to the top of his shiny, little noggin.

She ushers him out the door, drawing me in as she shuts it without a goodbye. “He’s been babied too much, that one,” she mutters. “Those young Nightbloods think they’re a gift that graces the world. Please. Sit at the table. We’ll get right to it.”

The room is nothing like I’d imagined. There’s no cauldron, no herbs hanging from the ceiling, and thankfully—no mangy cat to cling to my legs as I sit here. The old log walls are decked in woven blue and yellow tapestries, probably to cover the decaying timber. I turn at the creaking of the door.

A round, middle-aged woman sticks her head into the cottage. “Lil,” she calls, before looking over at me. “Oh bless me. You do have company. Lucas said you did. I hope my boy didn’t make him feel too uneasy. Lucas is such a good boy to worry about things and check in on us.”

Lil swivels on her heels. “Oh Mildred. Enough about Lucas and his sweetness. Please. Get your gander at the Ordinary sitting at my table so you can say you’ve seen it already. I’ve got better things to do than indulge in your silliness right now.”

Mildred stifles a laugh, her face rosy and peculiarly trusting. It’s sort of endearing, how the woman’s eyes are absent of any shrewd expression. “Oh. He’s not any older than Calli or Daphne. Hmm. I thought we’d at least have someone we could make eyes at. Okay, I’ll just show myself out.”

“You do that,” Lil exhales, waiting for the door to latch. “Excuse her. She’s a very dear friend of mine. But she’s given to romantic notions and merry chatter. It’s what sustains her, unfortunately.”

My potential employer wears a simple brown dress. Lil’s faded blond hair is restrained in a bun so tight that I can only assume would instigate headaches. She stands with one hand at her hip as she retrieves paper from the mantle. Her rigid posture prompts me to take account of how I’m slumped on the table. I remove my elbows, guessing that she’s already tallying my etiquette offenses in her head.

“When I posted a notice for this job,” she says, taking a seat across the table from me, “I didn’t expect someone your age to apply … Not for the same reasons as Mildred. Most young men want leisure time after work. I can’t have someone hired on who isn’t willing to board here. My property needs a lot of attention before it gets cold, and travelling back and forth will cut into that time. We don’t offer much amusement—for Ordinaries anyway. We don’t have pie socials or any of the quaint, lighthearted gatherings you’re probably used to. So if you’re looking for something that allows you to interact with—”

“I just need work,” I reply, shrugging it off. “I prefer to be left to myself. I’m not looking for anything more than room and board. Maybe a decent reference this fall after the work is done.”

She taps a finger at her jaw, scrutinizing me to such an extent that I shift in my seat.  “Your hair. I find it completely distracting. The younger generation could do with being more mindful of appearances. I’m going to hope you trim hedges better than the curly nest hanging over your ears.”

“Are you concerned that my hair will affect my capacity to stack firewood?” I accept that I’ve been passed over from the minute I walked in.

Her eyebrow arches as her mouth twitches. “It was just an observation and a courtesy that your own folk should have afforded you.”

“Well,” I chuckle, “there you go. I’ve been a resident of the Rickerton Poorhouse, just south of here. As I said, I really need employment. I don’t have much in the form of personal connections. If I’m not what you’re looking for, please tell me. I’ll be on my way.”

She scribbles furiously on the beige paper. The sharp scratch of the quill sounds like that of a school master about to deliver corporal punishment. “I suppose your hair is not a primary concern,” she says, as she continues writing. “You’d not only be here to mend the fence and the failing frames in my home, but you’d also be responsible for helping my niece with the daily chores. My back is no good anymore.”

I realize my hat has suffered from how I’ve bunched it within my hands. It occurs to me to ask why she refuses to spell her house into an improved condition. But it’s none of my concern, especially if she’s going to pay me. “I have the job?”

She pauses, her pen left in mid-stroke. “Did you not want it?”

Of course,” I nod, linking my fingers until they turn white.

“There’s a bed in the largest shed at the edge of the field, before the river,” she says, pushing the paper toward me. “You can take your dinner here and sleep there. I’ll just need you to make your mark that we’ve come to an agreement.”

She slides the glass inkwell to the middle of the table with her other hand. “Now. Rules. Besides repairs, there’s the extra firewood we need for the fall. I already mentioned that, didn’t I? Yes. You’ve seen the state of my fence—and the porch,” she sighs, rubbing her forehead, “and the appalling state of the paint on the porch posts. There’s plenty to busy yourself with, so I don’t think I’ll have to remind you with too many lists. As you know, you’re not likely to be addressed by many of the women here other than me. I suppose Mildred can’t help herself. I’ve had to get special permission to hire outside help. The coven is rightfully suspicious of an Ordinary living among us. So you’d do well to tread lightly here. There are plenty of beautiful girls in our village, but you’ll keep all appropriate boundaries. That’s as much a favor to you as it is a rule the coven has asked me to stress. You will stay off Blackridge Mountain too. It’s a cursed place. Not even Seers venture up there. Now. The Nightbloods will come through on occasion. It so happens that they’ll be by here tonight. When they do come through, you’ll make yourself scarce and avoid eye contact. The rest of them aren’t like Lucas. They’re much more transparent about their feelings. It’s for your own safety that you abide by what I tell you during your stay.”

I scrawl a lopsided x on the paper, relieved that I have a place to sleep tonight.

“You heard the last part of what I said?” she presses. “That’s more important than anything else I’ve addressed. The Nightbloods abide by their own set of rules, which aren’t many. You wouldn’t want to irritate them for any reason. They’re not the approachable kind.”

“Noted,” I say, sliding the paper back in her direction. “I don’t go around running my mouth, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Her tense shoulders make me curious if the Nightbloods are as shocking and violent as the stories I’ve been told. Lil’s cautionary words about them turn funny in my stomach. It’s probably nothing—nothing worse than the kinds of people who run a poorhouse—or the men there I’ve had to slug off of me.
I’ll get through a summer of work and then I’ll find another means to survive. Just like I always do.

She stands, extending her hand to shake mine. It takes me off guard, but I hurry to return the gesture. “Were you going to introduce yourself with a name?” she asks, “Or did you assume a Seer would know it?”

“Isaiah.”
Don’t ask my last name, because I don’t know it either
. Another courtesy my mother afforded me when she discarded me.

“Isaiah,” she repeats quietly, as if she’s committing a secret object to a vault. “I’ll see to finding you some clothes that are less threadbare. Go settle your belongings. You can start tomorrow. We’re having my niece’s birthday celebration tonight. So dinner will actually be in the village grove. In fact, if you don’t mind starting this evening, I could use the help getting everything carried and set up. I can’t just snap my fingers and put on a show like—well, never mind. You can follow me there after you’ve unpacked your things. But plan on all other dinners being here at this table.”

“Thank you ma’am,” I say, slinging my bag over my arm as I open the door.

“Oh,” she calls out as I begin descending the front stairs.

“Yes?”

“You seem bright enough. But just in case—don’t go around saying
witch
or
warlock
to anybody. Those are ignorant terms that will get you slapped or raised off your feet.”

I’m wondering how quickly I can get away before this Lil remembers another rule that makes me rethink this place. Three snickering women wince as I pass, as if I might shout boo at them or say a prayer. All that’s on my mind is what might be for dinner—and how many days I have until I leave with my pay in hand
.
I’ve calculated it, and although I am not always accurate with numbers, I think I can keep track this time.
87 days
.

3

CALLI

I
pull a falling strand of my red hair back into the jeweled combs. Buttered vegetables and stewed beef blends with the jasmine oil that Lil gave me to wear. The tart and sugared smell of roasted apple carries on the wind the closer I get. Tugging at my sash, I tie it over again so it isn’t squeezing the life out of me. Beyond the perfect and tidy homes of the other Seers, past the rickety eyesore that Lil and I live in—is the Willow Circle. I don’t know who named it, because there are no willow trees here.