by E. S. Maya
Goggles got back to work.
“Team Wulf!” called Clayworth from behind them. The redheaded boy was pushing his own full minecart. “Can we get it moving up there, or do I got to push that tub for you?”
“You heard him, Saf,” said Wulf.
“I did,” answered Safi, leaning into the minecart handle. “That’s why I’m going to push.” The minecart lurched forward. She wasn’t sure who moved it first. Perhaps both of them. They stayed shoulder to shoulder, forearm to forearm, until the minecart squealed around the first bend in the passageway.
“You’re too stubborn!” Wulf said once the boys were out of earshot. He stared down the tunnel ahead.
“If you don’t like stubborn girls,” Safi replied, eyes forward, “then you shouldn’t have picked me for your mining team. You knew I was stubborn from the start.” She considered her next words. “Since the time I tried to run away, that night in the carriage.”
It was the first time she’d brought it up since arriving in Camp Cronus. She wondered if Wulf remembered at all. Or if he even cared.
“I must be drawn to troublemakers,” Wulf said. The minecart whined as it turned the next bend, entering another drift.
Safi pushed a little faster now. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I ran away?”
“To escape, obviously.” Wulf motioned his hand over the stone in every direction. “To get away from all this.”
“Not from the carriage.” She took a deep breath. The air was dusty. The air was always dusty. “From you, during the Siegestone ceremony.”
Wulf shrugged. The way his arm brushed her shoulder sent a shiver down her back. “I wasn’t planning on asking.”
“Then I’ll tell you anyway.” Safi raised her voice as the minecart took another corner, squealing loudly. “It’s ‘cause, honestly, I can’t do what that breaker boy did! Titan’s ass, Wulf. Giving away twenty-five years!” She turned to spit to the side, but remembered the neckerchief over her lips, and the remnants of her ladylike manners.
She swallowed, and continued, “When I find a Siegestone, I don’t want you to be angry or upset or anything of the sort, so I’m telling you now. Even though you helped me out a lot… I’m not sharing.” She sighed. “There, that’s said.”
Wulf was silent for a moment. Then he broke into a crackling, shaking, uncontrollable sort of laughter. He began slapping the minecart handle, leaning forward until it carried his full weight. The toes of his work boots dragged along the drift floor.
Safi grunted as she strained to support the extra weight. “What’s so funny?” she asked, trying to keep from laughing herself.
Wulf eased his laughter to a chuckle. He pushed himself off the handle and stumbled into a steady gait. “Say, I ever tell you why my dad sold me to Blackpoint?”
“No,” Safi said. “You know you never told me, so go ahead say it.”
Wulf worked out all the laughter from his voice before continuing. “Dad was a cordwainer. Finest shoes in Andera, nothing like these clunky old hand-me-downs Blackpoint calls boots. Notre, Serren, Emrys; you name the city, we’ve sold ‘em there.”
Safi sniffed. “If he was so good, how’d you end up here?”
“Big cities mean big competition. We hit the road eight months of the year. Worked out of a little shop in the back of Dad’s wagon. The man slept with his tools, Saf. It wasn’t pretty. A man’s got to have sons to run a business like that. And a boy’s got to pay for himself, one way or another.”
“He had a son,” Safi said. “He had you.”
“Sons, I said. I was his first and his last. But dad…” Wulf chuckled. “He wasn’t one to give up.”
The minecart squealed around its final bend. “And nothing?” Safi shouted over the noise.
“Got six sisters instead! Titans, if those girls don’t like to eat!”
Safi giggled. She could certainly relate. “So you’re saying your father sold you to pay for supper?”
Wulf nodded, grinning all the while. “Boys pay for themselves quicker. Get ‘em working young, at nine or ten. To a working man, girls are worth less than their dowry. But no, that ain’t exactly why. Dad hated to sell me. Thought he could gamble his way out instead. We were in Serren when he first bet on cards. Bet a little more than the family business, too. Got swindled right out. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have got twenty years in this hole. Five or ten at most, maybe.”
“I’m sorry,” Safi said. “That’s awful. My mama couldn’t have more kids after me. I’m her one and only.” She frowned under her neckerchief. “I’m not sure why she sold me. Maybe because I couldn’t work good.”
Wulf let go of the cart to tickle Safi’s bicep. “If only she knew the work you do now!”
“Hey!” Safi yanked her arm away, chiming with laughter. “Hard to get strong when you don’t got food to eat.”
“True words,” Wulf agreed.
They emerged into the adit and the minecart veered left. The bend in the rail was wide this time, and quiet.
“You never did tell me what was so funny,” Safi said.
“Right. My point is, gambling doesn’t do anyone good, Saf. Not with money and not with Siegestones. That’s all this place is, one big gamble. They make you think you’ll work your way out. Then who do you think wins? The worker or the warden?”
“The warden,” Safi admitted.
“Exactly. Him and his red capes. You don’t think I want to get out of here too? I need to get back home and work. To put food in those girls’ mouths, God forbid Dad tries for eight! But I can’t, and you can’t, because it’s a rigged game, just like city gambling. The more you play by the rules, the more you lose.”
Safi wondered if she’d been playing by the rules. She didn’t want to be a loser. At least not for twenty-five years. “But you can find a Siegestone,” she said. “We saw it with our own eyes and that’s the stone-cold truth.”
Wulf shrugged. “You can do a lot of things. You could run away, too, if you really wanted. No walls around Camp Cronus. Odds on the road might be better than the Titan mines. Camp Cronus favors Blackpoint, Saf. Don’t let them fool you otherwise.”
“I don’t deny that,” Safi said. “But what if you did find a Siegestone? Would you really be able to share it?”
Wulf turned to face her, wearing an uneasy smile. It was unlike any expression she’d seen him make before. “No,” he admitted, “I don’t think I could.” Then he looked forward and laughed. “But some things, you don’t know until the moment you’re in it. I haven’t got any real family around, but I figure you guys are a close second.”
Safi laughed too, though she had never thought of Wulf like that.
The Pit was mostly empty. Safi and Wulf wheeled up to the dumping platform. Instead of Noth, she was pleased to see Foreman Adams. The older man smiled through his bright blond beard. His Blackpoint red cape brushed at his heels, more tattered than ever.
“Now here’s a surprise,” mused the foreman in his gravelly voice. “First time I’ve seen this strategy for cart pushing.”
“Finally made quota, boss,” Wulf said.
Foreman Adams held up a piece of black slate and white chalk. “About damn time, Team Wulf! Get your arses up here!”
Together, they eased the minecart up the ramp to the platform. The foreman squatted down, helping Wulf hook the wheels to the dumping mechanism. With a few easy turns of the crank, the minecart rose through the air and spilled its contents down the dumping shaft.
Safi inched the toes of her boots the edge, watching the rubble vanish into the shadows below. “I sure hope there weren’t any Siegestones in there.”
The foreman stood beside her and squinted. “What’s that!” he said, jutting a downward finger.
Gasping, Safi dropped to her knees and stuck her head out over the shaft. “I don’t see anything, sir.”
“Just fooling,” the foreman said. He and Wulf shared an easy laugh. Safi crawled back from the edge and stood. She set her hands on her hip
s and pouted, though it soon turned into a smile.
The foreman turned the crank once more, and the minecart came slamming back down. “Now get back to work,” he told them
“Yes sir,” said Wulf, tipping his helmet slightly.
Safi stuck out her tongue. Foreman Adams’ laugh was belly-shaking.
They guided the minecart out of the Pit, arms uncrossed this time. Halfway through the adit, eager to throw off her newfound strength, Safi heaved herself over the cart handle. She landed inside the empty minecart, leather soles clapping wood. There she sat backwards, facing Wulf. Teasing him with silence.
“Safi,” Wulf said, as the rail took them towards the first-year dig site. “What are you doing after shift?”
“Nothing.” Safi felt her cheeks go hot. She quickly added, “Oh, I mean, there’s this thing, with Raven. We have plans, and I…”
Wulf shook his head and smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”
Safi leaned her helmet against the wall of the minecart, cursing her slippery tongue. She felt the urge to say something but dared not risk it, lest Wulf say something first.
But the boy remained silent all the way back to the first-year dig site.
43
A Thousand Simple Steps
Raven danced towards Safi with a flurry of darting strikes. Safi scampered backwards, waving the handle of her own cleaning weapon in a desperate attempt at defense.
How fast Raven was! Safi heel bumped into a bunk chest, and the ensuing stumble sent her ducking beneath the swipe of Raven’s broom-sword. She flinched as it recoiled off the bunk frame, inches above her head.
Nice!” said Raven from above.
“I’ve got you!” said Safi from below, whipping her broom handle up at her bunkmate’s heaving chest.
Raven dropped into a crouch so low that her bottom hovered inches from the floor. Safi’s broom cut air, and Raven punished her arms with three sharp wooden smacks.
“Ow, ow, ow!” Safi’s broom clattered to the floor as she pulled up her knees for protection.
Cackling, Raven took Safi’s hands and helped her up from the bunk chest. Safi patted down her messy clothes and sighed. For an hour now they had practiced, and she hadn’t landed a single strike. It was hard to understand how Raven, who had spent a month in the stockades, outfought her trained body with such ease.
They sparred again. By the end of the round, Safi breathed heavy, and Raven was panting.
Yet still Raven won!
Safi hunched over and groaned. “How do you keep beating me?”
“Every kid who grows up in Serren learns how to fight,” Raven explained between breaths, “and my big sister taught me right. Girls don’t win by being stronger than boys. Get ready!”
They returned to the center of the barracks. The stance Safi fell into, according to Raven, was the most common in all the Northern Kingdoms. Simple and effective: right foot pointing forward, left foot angled to the side. Her right, dominant arm led the way, holding the broom-sword at a diagonal angle.
Raven struck at Safi’s exposed left, and the half-Abedi girl reversed her weapon’s angle. The brooms clacked together, and Raven’s attack glanced sideways—leaving her guard wide open. Safi leapt at the opportunity, flicking her broom forward in a straight, downward blow.
But Raven threw up her sword arm in time, broom turned sideways. Safi’s attack landed heavy, then recoiled into the air. Following the momentum, Safi hopped backwards outside of Raven’s striking range. She snapped her weapon back into the starting position.
“You’re getting it,” Raven said, breathing hard, but holding her fighting stance.
“I am? Yeow!” Safi dropped her broom-sword, gripping her smarting elbow. She had barely seen the attack coming. “What was that for?”
“You’ve got to keep that elbow tucked in, Blondie. Easiest way to lose an arm.”
Safi heard the barrack doors creaking open, and the sounds of footsteps and voices wandering into the antechamber. The girls on second shift returning from work. She and Raven went to the cleaning room to put their brooms-swords away before anyone suspected what they were doing.
Safi caressed her elbow all the while, glaring at her ruthless instructor.
“We’ll get to hitting and wrestling tomorrow,” Raven said. “Why’d you want to learn to fight anyways?”
Safi stared out of a faraway window as they crossed the room to their bunk. She remembered Noth, and how powerless she felt, hanging off the edge of the dumping shaft. And Bernold, too, on the day they had claimed her as the property of the Blackpoint Mining Company. Not to mention Hannah, and how useless she had been on the day that her friend most needed her.
Safi had promised herself that, next time, things would turn out different. “No particular reason,” she said.
“Quit lyin’!” Raven pounced on Safi’s back, reaching around to give her a good pinch on the cheek. “Something bad happened, didn’t it? While I was all locked up?”
Safi squeezed Raven’s wrist and removed her hand with ease. “Let’s just say them boys can be dangerous.”
“That they can,” said Raven with a grin, and did not question Safi further.
Every afternoon, for an hour after work, and with the barracks all to themselves, Safi and Raven took to battle. They sprinted along the room’s perimeter, broom-swords clattering. They leapt through empty bunks, fighting their way into corners and back out to the room’s open center.
Each strike of Safi’s weapon was a word for which Raven had an answer. Their conversations were long and tiring.
On the night before Blessing Day, Safi spied Raven climbing out of bed. The next morning, she wasn’t at all surprised to awaken to Raven’s shaking hand.
They found Rebecca atop the girls’ wall, placing modest bets with her coworkers from the tailory. (Safi noticed the redhead didn’t actually watch the fights.) Raven pulled out a large coin purse and joined them.
While they watched the boys take turns clobbering one another in the sword ring, Safi spotted Goggles’ bald head bobbing up and down in the crowd. She took Raven’s hand and together they leapt from the wall, pushing through the boys to meet her mining team.
“Titans almighty,” Stiv said, upon seeing Raven’s thin body, her narrow chin and hollowed cheeks. “What in the Nine Stones happened to you?”
“I missed you too, dear,” purred Raven. Then, with Safi holding him in place, she delivered a well-deserved blow to Stiv’s upper arm. At least Safi thought so.
“Two on one,” croaked Stiv, backing away from the two tittering girls. He pressed a finger to his arm and winced. “That’s hardly fair.”
“I’m disappointed in you, Stephan,” Jabbar said, arms folded high on his chest. “Pained from such a small girl.”
Raven guffawed. “Kid, I’m taller than you!”
Safi clung to Raven’s waist, shaking with laughter. It took little effort to hold her back. “Raven! You can’t beat up my whole mining team.”
Wulf chuckled into his fist. “That’s a Serren girl for you.”
Safi blinked. She hadn’t the slightest idea what Wulf meant, but Raven sure seemed to. She wriggled out of Safi’s arms and rested a hand on her hip, grinning. “And what’s a small-town boy like you know about Serren girls?”
“Spent most of my life in Anderan cities,” Wulf said defensively. “And I’ve been in Serren more than enough to know a troublemaker when I see one.”
Safi looked at Wulf in surprise. She’d never seen him like this, pushed to his heels from a few harmless words.
Stiv looked at Raven, then Wulf. He scratched himself behind the ear. “I always thought you were from the city.” Goggles nodded, following the sentiment.
“He ain’t from no city!” Raven said, touching a finger to her chin. “You can tell from how he says his name. Wulf. It’s the real deal, not a nickname like mine. That’s countryside stuff.”
Wulf stared at the girl for a moment. His stormy expression cleared to re
veal a handsome smile. In an instant, he was the same easygoing boy Safi had known, like his composure was something he could shape in his two big hands. He turned a shoulder to Raven and winked at Safi instead. “Like I said, Serren girls are troublemakers.”
Raven smiled at the boy and opened her mouth to continue, but the clinking of coins drew her attention to the crowd.
Bet collectors, Safi realized. The fifth-year boys were making their rounds, collecting iron sovereigns by the handfuls. She had once heard that a single bet collector carried a whole years’ worth of pay.
“Who’s up?” asked Wulf.
Goggles stood on the toes of his work boots. “It looks like Recruit Foreman Noth and a fifth-year from the North Camp.”
Safi could hear the announcer, Spanky, letting loose his usual torrent of words. Fighters being named, wagers being demanded.
“Let’s get a closer look!” Stiv said, leading the way through the crowd.
Shoulder first, Safi pushed her way after the boys until they came within view of the sword ring. Preparations for the fight were well underway. Noth had his sword tucked into his armpit, dense forearms flexing as his hands unbuttoned his work shirt. He left it halfway open, enough to hint at his powerful, sculpted form. In the distance, Safi heard a high-pitched squeal from the wall of girls.
Even Raven fanned her scarred cheek. “Whew!”
“Raven!” Safi scolded her, reaching to yank down her wrist. “He’s the bad guy.”
“Typical of an Anderan street rat!” Stiv said. “No loyalty. Sell their own mothers for a fistful of coin.” He paused, glancing at Wulf, looking uncertain if he was an Anderan street rat, too. “No offense.”
A broad-bellied bet collector made his way through the crowd to meet them. “You kids got wagers, or you here to block people’s views?”
“I’ll bet on the recruit foreman,” Jabbar said, handing over about twenty Blackpoint sovereigns. A small handful of iron pennies, but the equivalence of one week’s honest, quota-filled work. The bet-collector slid the coins down his fingers and into a numbered brown sack. He handed Jabbar a strip of cloth with a matching number.