The Diminished

by Kaitlyn Sage Patterson

  “May I see your ticket, please?” he asked pleasantly. His voice was warm and carried a faint lilt I didn’t recognize.

  “It’s already been checked,” I said. “And you’re blocking my way. Excuse me.” I tried to shoulder past him, but the young man was all lean, hard muscle, and my head barely came to his chest.

  He very gently placed his hand on my shoulder and nudged me out of the door frame, which he now fully occupied. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m required to check the tickets of everyone who’s been assigned to this room.”

  A cluster of middle-aged Denorian men dressed in beautifully dyed and intricately knitted wool whispered at the end of the hall. Their broods of children swirled like storm clouds at their feet. I eyed the young man standing between me and the cramped room lined with bunks. It was empty, thank all the gods. I didn’t think I could bear to have one more person witness this exchange.

  The young man’s amber eyes refused to leave mine, not even to linger on the scratches on my cheek, and I was grateful to him for that small kindness. Heat crept into my cheeks, and I could’ve kicked myself for blushing. His wide mouth seemed unable to contain its smile, and with his high cheekbones and those eyes, he was easily one of the most handsome men I’d ever seen. It was a pity he was a sailor—a good-looking fellow like him could make a fair match in the city. He looked to be about the right age for marriage, perhaps five years older than me.

  I glanced at the Denorians and weighed my options. The part of me that knew better than to cause a fuss outweighed the urge to run—though only because the young sailor had some of the longest legs I’d ever seen and would surely catch me before I made it back to the stairs.

  I fished in my pocket and handed my ticket over. “See? 687. Now may I please pass?”

  He studied the paper for a moment and handed it back to me. “Miss Abernathy, would you come with me, please?”

  “Why? This is my room. Haven’t you got to check the other tickets?”

  His jaw tensed and his voice softened, like he was talking to a frightened animal. “Your cabin assignment has been changed. If you’ll come with me, I’ll escort you to your new room.”

  Alarms sounded in my head like the horns that blew each time some hovel in the End caught fire. I took a step back and my eyes flashed to either end of the hallway. This felt like a trap.

  “I’m fine here. Promise,” I said.

  “I must insist you come with me, Miss Abernathy.” He put a big hand on my shoulder, but I ducked out of his grip, thinking fast. He didn’t seem threatening, but I’d learned the hard way that looks were often deceiving. I didn’t trust anyone.

  “I’d rather wait for my twin,” I lied. “Don’t want to get separated. It’s a big ship, you know.”

  The young man leaned down close to me, careful not to touch me again, and whispered in my ear. “I know you’re traveling alone, and I think it’s for the best if we keep that knowledge as quiet as possible. Don’t you agree?”

  His breath tickled my ear, and fear roiled in my belly. I hadn’t been on the ship for an hour, and two people already knew I was a dimmy. But how? I hadn’t given this sailor any indication.

  “There you are, girl,” the deep, nasal voice of the crewman from earlier echoed down the hall. “Good thing you caught her, Whippleston. There’s something squirrelly about this one.”

  Whippleston. His name was familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. I adjusted my bag over my shoulder to keep my hands from shaking. The young man stepped between me and the crewman and put up a hand in warning, stopping the other man’s advance.

  “I’ll handle this, Hicks. Go about your business.”

  “I don’t remember passenger safety being included in the duty of—what was it they were about calling you this time? A steward?” Hicks scoffed. “Why don’t you let someone who actually earns his keep see to the ship’s safety, yeah? You can go fluff your uncle’s pillows or stir your daddy’s pot, hear?”

  I remembered. Whippleston was the name of the woman who’d arranged Sawny’s and Lily’s travel. A family business, then. Maybe this was her son.

  Whippleston drew himself up, and even though the other man was nearly as tall, he cut a much more intimidating figure. “If you’d like to clarify the range of your duties versus mine with the captain, I’d be happy to have that conversation—after I’ve seen to the task I’ve been assigned. Out of our way, Hicks.”

  Hicks scowled at Whippleston, but stepped aside, vibrating with malice. He was clearly outranked and not at all happy about it.

  Dangerous.

  Whippleston strode past the other man, who glared at me. Given that my choice seemed to be to follow Whippleston or stay in the hallway with the now-seething Hicks, I fled down the hallway behind Whippleston, feeling the crewman’s eyes following me like baying hounds.

  We climbed three flights of stairs in silence before the young man stopped and turned to face me.

  “I’m sorry. I never offered you my name. I’m Mal. Mal Whippleston. Welcome aboard the Lucrecia.” He put a hand over his heart and bowed his head, the amused smile still playing across his wide mouth.

  I stared at him for a moment, flabbergasted, before blurting, “What was his problem?”

  Mal twitched his eyebrow up at me. “Hicks doesn’t appreciate the fact that my brother and I outrank him, and he has a rather nasty way of showing it.”

  Every lesson in good manners the anchorites had tried to cram down my throat in the first fifteen years of my life was gone, sacrificed to fear and a healthy dose of self-preservation. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Like I said, your cabin assignment has changed. My uncle, the captain, asked me to take you to your new lodgings. The anchorites alerted him of your, erm, status, and he thought it in everyone’s best interest that you bunk alone.”

  How very strange, I thought, for a man to be a captain. I knew men worked on ships—men did all kinds of work, and it would be a bad idea for their female twins to leave them behind, given how out of sorts twins seemed to get when separated for too long—but women were usually heavily favored to become officers. We women were the ones linked to the moon and the stars, after all. Our bodies, like the tides, were controlled by the moon’s twin halves. Or at least that’s what we’d been taught by the anchorites. Nevertheless, there was no doubt in my mind that what I didn’t know about shipboard life could fill volumes, and now was not the time to ask questions.

  “But why?” I asked, still wary. “Shouldn’t I be staying with all the other temple laborers?”

  “I’m sure you’ll be much more comfortable in your new cabin. Trust me?” He smiled at me again, all white teeth and warm golden eyes, and for a moment, I almost did.

  “I don’t, but you can call me Vi.”

  Chuckling, Mal led me out into the corridor and through the maze of halls that was the interior of the vast ship. His silence was a blessing, as my mind had set off racing. Sawny and Lily had left on this ship a month ago. Maybe Curlin had been wrong. Maybe I could find out where they were. Maybe I’d be able to get close enough to see them again.

  The hallways on the upper decks were well lit by brass lamps that hung from the walls every few paces. Plush carpets quieted our footsteps, and the people we passed wore elegant, fashionable clothes. Mal made frequent shows of respect to them, and they nodded back at him, but pointedly averted their eyes from my damp, threadbare wool clothing and disheveled hair. A gaggle of anchorites, the sides of their heads freshly razored and the rest of their long hair elaborately braided and oiled under tall, fluted orange hats, swept by us in a whisper of orange silk robes and heavy perfume. We both bowed deeply as they passed.

  At the end of the long hallway, Mal unlocked a door with an enormous brass key and ushered me inside. He crossed the room to fling open the shades while I stood, rooted in place, just beyond the room’s thres
hold.

  The room was nicer than anything I’d ever seen. An ornately carved four-poster bed was bolted to the floor and ceiling, covered in pillows and blankets and thick, lustrous furs. A sofa and two armchairs done in blue upholstery were clustered around a small hearth. A delicate table and three matching chairs sat next to a large window. A glass-paned door opened onto a deck that was the size of the room I’d shared with Curlin in the temple. Walls on either side of the deck enclosed it, ensuring privacy, and a pair of chairs held brightly dyed wool blankets for those brave enough to face the arctic air of the passage before we turned south.

  I took it all in, miserably comparing it to the room I’d seen over Mal’s shoulder. Guilt prickled up my arms. I didn’t deserve this kind of luxury.

  Surely, I thought, this must be a trick of some kind. What am I missing, Pru?

  Mal, who’d been lighting the lamps, saw me gaping and grinned at me. Laughter colored his voice as he said, “Best come all the way in and shut the door.”

  I did as he said, but had a hard time finding the right words. I didn’t want to offend him, but surely—surely!—this wasn’t simple generosity. I couldn’t see his play, his angle, but I knew it felt all wrong.

  “You look as wary as a cat over a bathtub. Speaking of, the washroom’s through that door there,” he said, pointing, “and there’s a tap for hot water in the tub, but don’t crank it all the way. Comes out near to boiling. One of the benefits of a sunship, I suppose.”

  “What’s the catch?” I asked.

  “The catch?”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m guessing you know what I am, and there’s no reason I can think of that a body would put a dimmy in a room so nice as this.”

  Mal pressed his lips together and slumped into one of the armchairs. “Would you like to have a seat?”

  “I would not.”

  “Will you at least put your bag down? No one is going to jump out of a closet and steal your things, I promise.”

  I realized I was crushing my bag to my chest, so I set it at my feet and stared at him. “It’s not like I’ve anything worth stealing,” I grumbled, knowing the only thing I owned of any value was safely in the pouch around my neck.

  “My uncle wanted you to have a room to yourself in order to keep you safe,” Mal explained. “A ship like this may seem big, but it isn’t—and if people find out that you’re a dimmy, they’re going to want you off the ship, land beneath your feet or not. They’d rather throw you overboard than risk storms and sea monsters, and loudest among those that’d speak up are a gang of superstitious crewmen.”

  “Why would your uncle agree to give passage to a dimmy like me in the first place?” I asked nervously.

  “Because the anchorites paid well, very well indeed, and my uncle worships nothing more than a bit of coin.” He sounded grim and a little sad.

  I perched on the edge of the sofa and narrowed my eyes at him. “So your uncle decided to risk the lives of all these people to make a few tvilling?”

  “It’s likely more to do with money owed than earned. My uncle’s not always so good at remembering his tithing.” Mal coughed. “And it’s not much of a risk if he manages to limit the number of people who see you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, as deplorable as I find this whole thing—and trust me, Vi, I do—I’m going to have to lock the door when I leave.”

  My hands knotted into fists and rage boiled in my belly. “I’ve gone sixteen years without hurting anyone. I think I can make it two more weeks.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. You seem about as harmless as a shark,” he said, eyes twinkling. “But you’ve been on the Lucrecia for less than two hours, and Hicks already has you in his sights. Imagine what’ll happen if the whole ship finds out there’s a dimmy onboard.”

  I could imagine it quite well, and I found my own concern reflected in his eyes. “You won’t survive the trip,” Mal said with a pained look. “ It’s for your own safety as much as anyone else’s. Besides, the anchorites said your twin died when you were still an infant. I think if you were meant to succumb to the grief, you would’ve done it by now.”

  I gaped at him. No one, not even Sawny, had ever considered aloud the possibility that I might not turn to violence like every other dimmy.

  Seeing I’d apparently lost my ability to speak, Mal went on. “My brother and I’ll bring you meals and anything else you want. Do you read?”

  The hidden insult snapped me back to myself, and I said, “I was temple-schooled. Of course I read.”

  “I don’t mean to offend you,” Mal said, that infuriating smile never leaving his wide, lovely mouth. “Not everyone does. I’ll bring you books then, too. Novels, histories, whatever you like.”

  “Fine.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “You just did.”

  Mal snorted. “Why would the anchorites send you all the way to Ilor, and you diminished?”

  My pearls felt heavy around my neck, and I thought of what Anchorite Sula had said in the kitchen. Anger had so clouded me in that moment that I hadn’t seen the truth of what had happened, of what they’d given me. Tears welled in my eyes, and I fought hard to keep my voice from trembling. “They saved my life. They gave me an impossible, horrible choice, but they saved my life.”

  Mal cocked his head to one side, sympathy on his face. “May I ask what the choice was that they gave you?”

  I swiped my eyes with the back of my hand and snapped, “No. But I’ll tell you that twenty-five years hauling rocks for the temple was far and away the best option.”

  I didn’t know why there was so much of me that wanted so desperately to confide in him. Perhaps I needed to feel heard by a real person, and not just the specter of my long-lost twin. It’d been only a month since Sawny left, but I still felt like there was a hole in the world next to me where he ought to’ve been. Maybe there was some idiotic part of me that hoped Mal might become something like a friend, at least for the short time we were both on this ship.

  Mal let out a long, low whistle. “I’m so sorry. That can’t have been easy.”

  “Wasn’t much of a choice anyway.”

  A bell sounded, and Mal got up to leave. He stopped at the door. “I’m going to do everything I can to make this passage easy and comfortable for you. It’s the least I can do.”

  I sighed. He seemed sincere, but I’d seen sincerity worn and discarded like a mask many times before. Still, it wouldn’t hurt me to be polite. “Thank you, Mal.”

  He beamed, and his white teeth gleamed against his deep umber skin. “You’re quite welcome. If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll do my best.”

  With that, he left. I waited until I heard the key turn in the lock before examining the rest of the room. I unpacked the few things I’d brought with me from the temple quickly, burying my little pouch of pearls in a drawer beneath my few extra pieces of clothing. I sat on the bed, regarding the package Lugine had given me. I didn’t want to open it, didn’t want to know how she’d chosen to say goodbye, but curiosity got the best of me. I untied the bit of twine, unfolded the butcher paper and opened the box.

  The scent of cedar and argan hit my nose, and I lifted a tin of the healing salve the anchorites made for the Shriven out of the box. I smoothed a tiny bit of the salve onto the scratches on my cheek and stowed the tin on my nightstand, the sting of the scratches fading almost instantly.

  On the bottom of the box, there was a plain, leather-bound book. At first, I assumed it was a cheaply printed copy of the holy books, the words of the gods and goddesses, but when I flipped it open, my breath caught in my throat. It was a novel taken from the temple library, the book I’d been reading when Sula sent me to serve the Suzerain. I took a deep breath and clutched the book to my chest. It was proof that they’d cared about me, these
women who’d raised me. The plan I’d so carefully constructed for the rest of my life had been ripped away, but at least I was alive.

  A wave of exhaustion washed over me, despite the sunlight shining through the windows of my cabin. I had no idea what the rest of my days would bring, but for now, I could at least get some more sleep.

  Sinking deep into the cloud-like feather bed, warm for once beneath thick down blankets, I closed my eyes and thought of my twin. Happy birthday, Pru.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BO

  I worried the gold cuff on my wrist, twisting it round and round. I hadn’t yet gotten used to its weight or the way it fell heavily against the joint at the base of my thumb. Birger, my tutor, was currently engaged in drawing a dining chart on the blackboard he’d wheeled into the parlor, his low voice droning like the buzzing of a well-smoked beehive. Queen Runa had decided that my engagement to Penelope ought to be announced as soon as possible, and a date only a few months away had been set. No amount of protest on my part had swayed Runa, my mother or even Penelope. It was like I was a puppy yapping at their ankles, better ignored in polite company than chased down and quieted.

  In the two days since my birthday, everyone—Mother and Penelope included—had swirled into action. No one in the household had been given time to recover. We’d packed up and left the capital in favor of the country estate where I’d grown up to escape the distractions of court. I was rather relieved by this—I certainly had no desire to stay in Penby. I was furious with everyone, and I didn’t think that I could keep a civil tongue in my head around Queen Runa at this point. Her duplicitous manipulations were the kind of thing that I’d expect out of Patrise and Lisette, or even Penelope, but from a woman who had dedicated her life to serving the people of the empire, these deceptions were outrageous. I knew that I ought to look past it, to assure myself that the Queen and my mother knew best. I should focus on my duties, on learning to be the kind of ruler I wanted to become.