The Girl From Ortec: An Omnibus

by Amy Richie

  My parents had died in the last freezing season and their house was given to someone else who needed it. I wouldn't be allowed to live there alone even if it was still empty. Of course I should become a servant of Ortec. What else would I do?

  Veronica would return to her birth home, Number Two, since she had a child. They would provide for her and her small son. He would become their future, they would be well cared for.

  Anyway, I concluded with a self-indulged sigh, life wouldn't be bad in the council building. As the wife of Sid, I had lived there the past year already. It would be better now that he was dead, it had to be.

  The sigh had only barely died on my lips when I reached the house of Nanny Grace. She was sitting at the table with Veronica when I walked in.

  “You're back.” Veronica pushed her hair back with a nervous flutter. “Did they tell you?”

  I nodded quickly. “I'm to go back straight away.”

  “It's not until tomorrow night.” Her eyebrows puckered low on her forehead. “Sid and M–Mitchell were th–the only ones ... killed. A lot were hurt, b–but no others ...” She let her breath out in a quick rush unable to say any more.

  “The funeral is tomorrow?” I asked, tugging again at the bottom of my hair. I had forgotten there would be a funeral.

  “What did he want to say to you?” Nanny Grace demanded, guessing the funeral arrangements were not discussed.

  “I'm to be a servant of Ortec, I'll live in the council building.” I moved my eyes to the rough wooden floor that had given me a place to sleep the past few nights.

  “I figured as much.” She nodded at her own correct guesses. “Veronica will stay here a few weeks to get her strength back, and then return to Number Two.”

  I nodded a few times, but with nothing left to say, shuffled forward to collect my few belongings I had brought with me.

  The ragged brown backpack was still packed, leaning against the bed roll in the corner. I peeked inside, just to be sure that my most prized possessions were still there. A heart shaped pendant that had long since lost its shine hung on its equally tarnished chain, which was tucked into a corner; a gift given to my mother from her grandmother who claimed it was given to her by a boyfriend before the great wave hit. There was a faded blue blanket my mother had made herself and used to wrap me in as a baby. A hairbrush with a faded silver handle, also from before the great wave, and a postcard given to me by Nanny Grace. “An elephant,” she had told me.

  “Don't forget this.” Nanny Grace came forward, holding a small potted plant in her wrinkled hands. Three perfect yellow flowers thrived in the dark soil.

  “They won't live much longer,” I muttered.

  “They'll bloom again.” She thrust the pot into the crook of my elbow.

  “You ... you keep it.” I scurried over to the small window and replaced the flower. “I'll come back to get it after ... after I’m sure I can. It needs sunlight.”

  I hadn't been at Nanny Grace's long enough to consider the small cabin a home, so I couldn't understand why it was hard to leave. Maybe it was because there weren't many people in the city who were nice to me, and even less who spoke directly to me. I would miss her.

  “We'll see you at the funeral tomorrow,” she called when I hesitated by the door.

  “Okay,” I said, nodding my agreement.

  My footsteps were heavy as they carried me past the pen, which held Nanny Grace's chickens, and the dwindling pile of wood that would have to be replenished before the freezing season set in.

  Suddenly, without warning, green eyes flashed across my memory, knocking me off my feet. My knees hit the ground with a hard thump, and my breath came out in great gasps. No matter how many times I told myself to forget the man those eyes belonged to, I knew I never could. Not ever.

  “Hey.” A tiny woman with her dark hair tied in a loose braid came hurrying up the path. “Hey, are you okay?” she panted.

  “I'm fine,” I mumbled, hurrying back to my feet before she could offer to help.

  “Are you Rani, wife of Sid?”

  “Not anymore.” Maybe it was because I was still shaken by the green eyes or maybe it was something else entirely, but I didn't want to be known as the wife of Sid anymore.

  “You'll still be known as that until after the funeral,” the woman said with an easy smile that crinkled the lines around her eyes. “I'm Sasha, servant of Ortec. I've been sent to collect you.”

  “I ...” I glanced back at the cabin, swallowing quickly. Had I been too long? They were waiting, I should have hurried back. “I'm sorry,” I muttered, eyes down at the path.

  “Don't be sorry.” She waved her hand dismissively through the air. “Avery, leader of Ortec, asked me to come. He was worried you might need help. He's a nice man, Avery.”

  I kept my head perfectly still, careful not to agree or disagree with her sentiments. I was definitely reserving my judgment of the leader of Ortec. I bit hard on the inside of my lip, ashamed of my wayward thoughts. As if I had any right to judge him at all.

  Chapter 5

  “The room isn't so bad, is it?” Sasha gestured widely at the room she had shown me, which the two of us would now share.

  I spun in a slow circle, taking in the sparse but comfortable living quarters. Two beds were separated by a wide stretch of bare floor and two matching dressers with candles on top. On one wall, the one furthest from the beds, was a narrow, full-length mirror that had a thin crack along the top; a rug of multiple colors lay invitingly on the floor in front of the mirror.

  “We even have a window,” Sasha called out happily. She pulled back the bright yellow covering to reveal a small pane of glass, cleaned spotlessly.

  “It's wonderful,” I half-whispered, staring out at my new view of the endless water.

  The council building was built as close to the water as possible, to leave more of the mainland for houses. We must have been in the back part of the building.

  “I've been here for almost eight years,” Sasha spoke again, catching my attention.

  “What happened to your ... husband?” I asked it without much thought, half my attention still on the gentle lapping of the waves. I sucked in my breath, hoping she wouldn't answer.

  “We lived out on Number Seven,” she answered, explaining all I needed to know with just those words.

  Number Seven was the smallest of all the islands of Ortec, housing a mere dozen homes. The more violent storms forced the habitants to the shelter built for them among their fields on Number Six. Sometimes, they didn't make it in time. A dangerous sort of life, but someone had to do it. The people of Number Seven harvested the fields on Number Six, which fed us all.

  “Before you feel too sorry for me,” she grinned, “I've adjusted well here. I was lucky to start work right away with Doctor Gourini.”

  I turned back to face her, my eyes trained on a spot near my foot.

  “You'll do well here,” she promised softly.

  Everyone kept saying that I would be fine here. Did they mistake my silence for fear? I nodded my agreement, not sure if that was what she wanted or not. She smiled wider.

  “I'll take you to meet the doctor now,” she said, beckoning me to follow her again. “He wanted to meet you once you got settled.”

  ***

  We found Doctor Gourini just outside the infirmary, glaring down at a harassed looking woman holding a stack of white pages.

  “What do you mean you can't find it?” he bellowed in a deep voice that carried halfway down the hall.

  “I put it in this pile,” the girl cried, “I'm sure I did. I'll go back and look for it.”

  He watched her hurry away, his dark eyes narrowing to thin slits. “What are you two doing there?” he called loudly, noticing me and Sasha.

  I cowered behind the smaller woman, wishing for nothing more than to disappear. I couldn't work for Doctor Gourini, he didn't even want me here. I balled my hands into tight fists, attempting without much success to stop their shaking.
>
  “This is Rani,” Sasha answered, approaching the doctor with sure steps. I followed. “Wife of Sid.”

  “Sid is dead,” he snapped.

  “Servant of Ortec,” Sasha corrected herself.

  “She's the new OB assistant?”

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  “You're lucky,” he said after an uncomfortable silence. “Another day and the position would have been filled.”

  I tried to make my breaths come as quietly as possible. Lucky. Maybe I was, but for different reasons than the doctor said.

  “Do you speak?” he barked.

  I nodded.

  “How old?”

  “A—” I cleared my throat and tried again. “Almost seventeen.”

  “Too young. You should be sent back to your parents. Where are they?”

  “Dead.”

  “Hmm,” he grunted loudly. “Maybe not so lucky after all.”

  I nodded again.

  “The funeral is tomorrow. You'll start after that. Put her with Shona.” He glared at me for a few more seconds, then stormed off down the hall.

  ***

  It was hard to sleep that night, even with the water playing music against the walls just outside our room. I tried not to think of the funeral that I would be forced to take part in, but my mind refused to obey my command.

  I had known Sid my entire life, he was a lawman even when I was a baby. Often, the lawmen were the scariest of the city and Sid was no exception. I had no one to compare him to, but my mother said he was the scariest she had ever seen and most certainly had the job the longest.

  The position stayed in one family, and more often than not was paramount to a death sentence. Before Sid, being lawman for a year was no small feat.

  Perhaps that was why Sid was given such a wide berth. Maybe that was why he was allowed to take such a young wife. And that had to be why no one would look me in the eye after just a few days in the council building, or why no one stepped in when the bruises became more and more visible.

  If I was in their shoes, I wouldn't have stood up to Sid either. I would have stayed away, averted my eyes, tried to console myself with the knowledge that Sid was risking his life to keep everyone safe. He had every right to do as he pleased otherwise.

  I turned to my side, allowing myself to sigh into the darkness where no one could hear. Why would I mourn the death of my husband when secretly I was glad to be rid of him?

  Chapter 6

  The sunlight streaming past the pinned back curtain didn't wake me up the next morning, although when I saw it I was surprised that I had slept so long. I turned my head quickly, focusing on the woman standing above me with the thick braid hanging down her back.

  “The doctor said to let you sleep in late this morning,” Sasha explained kindly, a smile already stretching the skin around her mouth. “The funeral will be starting soon. Chandler is waiting for you down at his shop.” With one final small smile, she turned and hurried back out of the room.

  Sleep in? I pulled the blanket off my bare legs and swung them over the side of the low bed. My knees hit the floor, smacking on the same spot that was still tender from my fall the day before. I hurried to my feet before my mind had time to dwell on why I had fallen outside of Nanny Grace's.

  There wasn't time for that right now, someone was waiting for me. With quick, sure movements, I neatly remade the bed I had slept on and pulled on my half pants from yesterday.

  My shoes were still waiting where I had left them just outside of the door; I shoved my feet into them without having to break stride. It wasn't necessary to worry about my hair, even if I did have the time to spare.

  The communal bathroom was thankfully empty when I entered, so it only took a few minutes to wash my teeth and face.

  “Good enough,” I muttered to the girl in the mirror. Large eyes stared back at me with lashes so long they had caused me a fair amount of taunting while growing up. A light sprinkle of freckles dotted my nose and cheeks, but once the freezing season came, they would be nearly invisible.

  My fingers traced across the ends of my hair, bringing flashes of memories with it of my mother braiding the long strands. I closed my eyes, only to have the once comforting darkness I found there to be invaded by green eyes bearing down on me.

  “Oh.” The sound had traveled up my throat and out my lips before I could capture it and hold it in.

  Turning at once from the mirror, I half ran back out into the hall.

  ***

  “Rani, wife of Sid.” Chandler—the short, bald shopkeeper—jerked his head in a small nod of acknowledgement. “Nasty sort of business we have here.”

  A woman sat cross-legged on a mat near the rear of the shop, her back to me. Her head seemed larger than I remembered it now that all of her hair was on the floor around her. The baldness was overwhelming; I had to fight my urge to run without having my own head done.

  Veronica, wife of Mitchell, barely looked over when I took my own place next to her.

  “The grieving process,” Chandler began in his low voice, “is a natural part of this life.” Tears slipped silently down Veronica's face. I had heard this same speech not even a year ago. I didn't cry then, either. “An outward show of your heartache that will lighten your burden.”

  A swift flutter of movement and a thick chunk of honey colored curls fell down past my knees.

  “As your hair grows back,” Chandler continued as more of my hair fell around me, “you can mark the days of your grief. That way, when it is at last long enough to warm your ears again, your heart will be fully mended.”

  Veronica's body began to shake with silent sobs.

  “When you are ready,” Chandler stood up straight again once I was free of the burdens of my hair, “we'll be waiting on the hill.”

  As soon as the door closed behind him, I rose up off the floor. “Rani, wife of Sid,” croaked Veronica, “won't you take a moment to grieve your husband?”

  I stared down at a place where our hair had joined together; chocolate-brown long strands, which should have hidden my shorter, lighter curls. Somehow, mine were still visible, staring up at me brightly. My lips turned up slightly at the sight, and for once shame didn't follow the gesture. Maybe it would come later, but for now there was no reason to pretend.

  Without words, I turned away from the weeping woman and made my way alone to the hill where a sea of faces hurried to not look at me.

  One other woman stood apart from the others, easily identified by her bald head and angry set to her mouth.

  “Sybil of Number Five,” I greeted with a mumble and a jerk of my head, “sister of Sid.”

  “They made me shave my head,” she grumbled. “I told him I wasn't sorry the bastard was dead. They didn't care. Grieve Sid, the lawman? Hmph,” she grunted with a scowl.

  I took my place beside her and waited awkwardly for Veronica to join us. Keeping my eyes neatly away from the pyre where two bodies awaited their final send off, I studied my toes instead. Several places on my right foot were rubbed raw from ...

  I sucked in a sharp breath.

  When finally we were a completed trio, Sybil, Veronica, and I were asked to kneel next to the wrapped bodies. Sybil snarled enough for both of us, so I was able to keep my expression completely calm while Doctor Gourini came forward to make a thin cut across our newly exposed skin. The warm, red liquid ran across the top of my head and down past my ears.

  “Mourn now while your blood flows.” A tall man, wearing all black, ran his hand over my head, painting the entire thing red. “And as these visible wounds heal, so shall the ones that run deeper … the one invisible to the rest of us.”

  I never did understand that part of his speech. The pain in my chest still hurt when I thought of my parents being dead, and that wound had healed a long time ago.

  A great billow of smoke rose in the air, signaling the end of the funeral. It was difficult to say who got to their feet first—me or Sybil.

  Chapter 7


  “I still remember my husband's funeral,” Sasha called back over her shoulder. I watched the designs the sunlight made across the faded tiles, momentarily mesmerized. “I thought the doctor had made the cut too deep, thought for sure I was going to bleed to death and join my husband on the pyre.” She half-chuckled at her own memories.

  My own head was covered in a thick white bandage, held in place with strips of matching tape. I glanced up to find her watching me; curious but not unkind.

  I looked away quickly, shuffling forward to follow more closely. I should have been paying better attention so she wouldn't have had to wait for me. My eyebrows puckered in the middle of my forehead.

  “There are six women this year,” she said, changing the subject as we came closer to the maternity ward where the pregnant women of Ortec were housed. “They came in just last month. Doctor Gourini is sure that all of them have taken,” she continued happily.

  “There are six of us, we each take one. You'll get Shona.”

  She leaned heavily on two pure white doors, which sprang open to reveal a short hall of doors leading to a larger, well-lit room at the end.

  “Shona is in room six. Your job,” she started forward, “is basically to keep her comfortable. Pretty straight forward.”

  I glanced quickly at a white door with a black six painted on it.

  “Do you remember yesterday when I showed you where the towels and things were?”

  I jerked my head forward in a nod. The room at the end of the hall, door marked linens. I remembered.

  “And the food ...”

  In the kitchens.

  “Is in the kitchens. If you need any medicines ...”

  Ask Doctor Gourini.

  “You'll need to ask the doctor, he'll get you what you need.” We stopped in front of the door marked with a number six. “You'll stay with her ...”

  As long as she needs me.

  “As long as she needs you throughout the day. If she sends you away, you'll check on her frequently. Even at night, when you return to your own room, you'll be expected to be on call.”