Roses (10 page)

The Herm-se-Hollis dining table conversation was strained in these days. Pa Hamish and Ma Dane barely spoke, their fear tangible. Pa Hamish had often suspected his wife of Magic but he had always pushed such troublesome thoughts to the back of his mind. However, he could no longer ignore the impending threat.

“Should we leave?” he said one afternoon as the family sat quietly in one of the mansion’s lounges.

There were few guests visiting these days and Beauty was permitted to spend more time with the family, though she would rather be in the stables with Owaine. Ma Dane made her sew handkerchiefs since she did not like to see her sitting and staring into the distance.

“Leave?” whispered Ma Dane, smoothing down her baggy dress. Since news of the rebels hit Sago, she had been deflating at an alarming rate.

“We could shut up the house and stay in the Forest Villages for a while. It would only be until things have blown over,” Pa Hamish said.

Eli looked up from his book.

“I will not be driven out,” hissed Ma Dane. “We have nothing to hide.”

Her eyes fell on Beauty and she quickly looked away.

The following morning, the State announced that Pervorocco’s Magical Cleansing would begin in the next moon-cycle.

Beauty was with Owaine at the time, tending to a skittish colt by the barn. They had just managed to calm it when a stable lad ran toward them.

“Owaine, have you heard the news?”

“What news?”

Beauty tried to steady the bucking colt, whispering soothing words as she had seen Owaine do.

“State has announced Magical Cleansing,” said the stable lad. “Anyone that needs to should leave the city now.”

Owaine’s brow furrowed.

“Thank yur, boy. But yur should go back to cleaning stalls.”

The stable lad slouched off.

“What is the matter?” Beauty asked.

Owaine stared at the ground, and the colt, sensing his unease, bucked even more.

“I feel I should go home.”

“Leave?”

“Yes. I never meant to stay, and if this is the way that Sago is turning, I should be in my hills. I worry for my daughter.”

“Please . . . please do not go.”

Beauty’s purple eyes begged and her lips trembled.

“Hush my child, yur shall see how things go.”

Over the next few days, Rose Herm was filled with an aching silence. Dread clogged the air and no visitors came, not even Eli’s teacher. The members of the house heard that there were more riots in the streets of Sago—as well as petitions and marches. People were indignant, frightened, and angry. But the State would not change its mind. One evening, a Leader was attacked while leaving the Chambers and his body was paraded through the squares. The next day, State officials were sent out into the streets to batter and slay anyone who stood in their way.

And the Magical Cleansing loomed closer. The State sent out leaflets asking citizens to give the names of those they suspected to
be Magics, and it released a statement informing all that the State would send out Magical Hunters to seek those that tried to hide. There would be no escape.

The evening this news broke, Beauty’s dress-maid led her to Ma Dane’s office. Entering, Beauty was shocked to see Owaine standing uncomfortably on a fur rug, his hands deep in the pockets of his trousers. There were boxes everywhere and Ma Dane was rushing about the room, her loose dress sliding from her gaunt shoulders. When she saw Beauty, she stopped short.

“You are sure?” she asked Owaine.

“My hills are almost a separate country in themselves, Ma. The rebels won’t go there. What would they want with hill folk?”

Ma Dane nodded, but her fingers trembled.

“We, too, are leaving,” she said. “So when you take her, you will not be able to bring her back.”

“That’s fine, Ma.”

“She is dangerous.”

Owaine turned to look at Beauty and he shook his head.

“She isn’t, Ma.”

“Her looks raise suspicion.”

“Everyone in the hills is suspicious.”

Ma Dane swallowed.

“I will give you sticks.”

“I have saved enough.” Owaine turned to Beauty. “Are yur happy to come with me to the Hillands, child? It’s a long journey.”

Beauty scarcely dared to believe what she was hearing.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Yur’ll become my daughter. Are you happy with that?”

“Yes . . .
yes
.”

Owaine smiled.

“She is more than she seems,” said Ma Dane, but he was not listening.

“I want to take Comrade,” said Beauty.

Ma Dane glanced at Beauty and she felt the bonds of a promise breaking.

“Pa Hamish’s riding horse? You may take him if you wish.”

Owaine did not have the heart to say that such a fine animal would be no use on the journey or in the Hillands. Beauty loved that horse and it would hurt her to leave it.

“You must go and pack now,” Ma Dane added in a voice that was breaking, “for the Magic Cleansing begins tomorrow and you must be out of Sago. We all must go.”

Owaine pressed his left hand to his chest and told Beauty that he would meet her by the stables once she had gathered her things.

A tense silence followed his exit from the room. Finally, Ma Dane turned to her ward.

“Beauty, I have something of yours that you must take with you.”

Ma Dane took a golden amulet from her desk and it caught the edge of a book, making a loud
chink
that vibrated around the room. Carefully, she carried it to the girl as though it pained her to hold it.

“The House of Rose?”

“Yes.”

Beauty touched the engraved rose and felt her fingertips crackle. Ma Dane placed the red sash around her neck and the amulet dropped to her chest, thumping against her beating heart.

“But what—”

“It was your mother’s . . . my sister’s, and it arrived with you when you came here. I will give Eli my amulet when I die. Do you understand?”

Beauty’s eyes widened. She had always believed that she came from a paupers’ hospital, the child of a fallen woman, as Ma Dane told everyone.

“You lied to me about my birth!”

“There is no time for that—”

“I am a House of Rose! I am your kin!”

“No, you are the daughter of a Hillander now.”

Beauty’s eyes flashed. “Who is my father? Where did I come from?”

“That, I do not know.”

“More lies!” she screamed.

Ma Dane took her by the shoulders and shook her hard. “There is no time now. But you must answer me this, for it is important. What do you dream, Beauty?”

Beauty hesitated.

“Do your dreams come true?”

“No.”

Ma Dane held her for one moment longer.

“Then you are lucky,” she whispered, turning away. “You must get ready to leave now. You most likely will not see me again.”

Beauty glared at her, seasons of abuse spurring her bitter anger.

“Why did you treat me so?” she cried, tears prickling her eyes. “Why did I have to suffer?”

Ma Dane paused, her face flushing.

“I was protecting you,” she said. “I was protecting all of us. You do not know what you are—”

“You are cruel! You are evil!”

“No! You do not understand . . . but you must leave now. You are not my responsibility anymore.”

Ma Dane went back to packing her books and Beauty wiped away a stray tear with her fist.

“You will die!” she screamed. “For I have dreamt it!”

Ma Dane gasped as Beauty fled the room.

Part Two

A girl stood on the docks of Sago at twilight in the balmy heat. Her dress was plain and old fashioned, but she held her chin high, as if she were a true lady with great riches.

Sailors passed, offering her winks and whistles, but she stoutly ignored them. The general bustle of the city was beginning to ebb at this time of evening, and all were flowing into the squares to savor the very best that Sago’s nightlife had to offer. Cargo ships were tethered and stocks were locked away. The tide was in and the water was high. The girl stood amongst it all alone, waiting.

A smoldering dash of amber ripped the horizon against the oncoming darkness and the sea glinted in the fading light. It was muggy and warm and the water slapped sleepily against the docks, beating a dull rhythm. The girl touched an amulet around her neck out of habit, feeling the hard undulations of the engraved rose at its center.

“Dane!”

She turned to see her elder sister, Asha, running toward her, skirts tangled around her ankles. Asha wore the tattiest and oldest of their shared dresses but never seemed to care.

“Where have you been? Mother is worried.”

Asha waved away her suspicions and stopped to catch her breath.

“Mother knows where I have been.”

Dane’s eyes darkened.

“Asha, you did not mean what you said last night—you cannot leave!”

“I cannot learn any more here.”

“But what will happen—”

“Mother knows and she gives me her blessing.”

The sea rippled and waves crashed against the docks in bursts of white froth.

“Dane, why must you fight it? Why did you stop your lessons? It can be more than dreams, visions, and premonitions. I have learned spells and I can—”

“I do not wish to hear what you can do.”

The waves crashed louder and water splashed onto the edges of the docks. Seagulls squealed and squawked and in the distance the temple bells pealed.

“Come with me. Do you not get tired of holding it in, Dane? Does it not drain you?”

“I can control it and no one need ever know.”

“You sound just like Father and look what happened to him.”

Dane shoved her sister hard. “Do not speak like that! How dare you leave us—what will everyone say?”

Asha looked at the ground. “No one will remember me,” she whispered. “I can do that, you see.”

“But Mother—”

“I have told her what I will do and she has accepted. It is the only way.”

Dane’s brown eyes glistened with tears.

“Even . . . even me, Asha?”

“No, you must never forget. I dreamt that seasons from now I will have a child—an important child—and you must look after her for me.”

She paused and touched the amulet around her own neck. It had been given to her when their father died. Dane had received hers when their great-aunt passed away and left no heir.

“The baby will come with this.”

Dane gasped.

“But that does not necessarily mean—” Asha paused.

“So, this will be the last time that I ever see you?”

“Perhaps.”

The sisters looked at one another as the last rays of light disappeared over the horizon.

“Promise me that you will care for my child.”

The waves crashed.

“Promise!”

“Yes. I promise.”

C
HAPTER
E
LEVEN

The Journey

O
n a warm Sago evening, Beauty followed Owaine out of the city. All that she owned in the realm could fit into a small saddlebag and she had packed it before Owaine had even readied the horses. As they went on their way, he gave her a thick cloak to cover her white hair, which made her sweat in the heat, and a pair of large gloves.

“We don’t want no trouble leaving and they’ll be useful on the journey,” he said, hoisting her into Comrade’s saddle. “We’re going somewhere that ain’t so hot.”

Beauty did not need to bid farewells, but as they rode through the iron gates of Rose Herm, she looked over her shoulder. In a far window of the mansion, she thought she saw a figure watching, his eyes following her as she disappeared. But when the house slipped away, she felt nothing.

The streets of Sago were dangerous in the current turmoil and would be worse still at night. Beauty remembered her last trip into the shantytowns, and her hands trembled as they held the reins.
Comrade tossed his head in response, used to trotting down the boulevard and not understanding why it troubled her so.

As they rode into a busier area, Owaine slowed his horse to a walk. He had chosen a bay named Sable from the carriage horses on account of her stocky build and sweet nature, in the hope that she would make a good field horse.

“Ride briskly,” Owaine whispered, pulling up beside her.

Comrade was so tall that Beauty had to look down on Owaine.

“It should take us a few hours to get out of the city. Make sure you stay close.”

They pressed on, traveling into the heart of the shantytowns. Shadows ran past them in alleyways and they cantered through a brawl in a square, the sound of State officials blowing shrill whistles echoing after them. Bodies slept on corners and under rubble while night-women prowled the streets. The darkness was thick—the moonlight could not penetrate the deep bowels of the slums, and the air reeked of feted slime and fear.

“Spare some sticks?” the pair would occasionally hear a voice murmur from the gloom.

At one point, two patrolling State officials came upon them and glanced at Beauty’s cloaked figure suspiciously, but at the same time there was a scream from another street and a cry for mercy. The officials ran in the opposite direction and Beauty and Owaine hurried on.

As the tense hours passed, Beauty found herself growing tired. She began to sit limply in the saddle, her hands resting on the pommel and her chin bumping on her chest. Comrade, too, was lagging, his hooves dragging against the roads, for he was not a young horse, nor was he used to such thorough exercise.