The Diminished

by Kaitlyn Sage Patterson

  “Afternoon. Hope you’ve got an appetite.”

  “Have you invited half of the crew for tea?” I asked, brows raised.

  “They’re leftovers. Da won’t let food waste. Mind if I stay? I’m famished.”

  “Yes, please. My mind is going to mush stuck in here, and there’s not a chance I’ll finish all that on my own.”

  “What are you doing with your time? Have you been reading?”

  I had just crammed a pasty into my mouth, so I shrugged and chewed. Around a mouthful of spiced meat and flaky crust, I said, “Some. It’s hard to focus on a novel right now.”

  Mal wheeled the tray over to my little table and poured tea for both of us. I sat down and took another pasty from the tray.

  “Why’s that?” Mal asked.

  I pushed an escaped curl behind my ear. To hell with it, right, Pru? I thought. “I know we’ve not known each other long, and you’ve no reason to do me any favors, especially not after all the kindness you’ve shown me.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  I shook my head and studied the tea tray, avoiding Mal’s golden eyes. “Never mind. I shouldn’t ask.”

  Mal reached across the table and took my hand. His long, elegant fingers closed over mine, and his palm was warm against my skin. It felt comforting enough to near take my breath away. The last person who’d so casually touched me had been Sawny, before he left.

  “Tell me what it is you want, Vi, and I swear I’ll do my best to see it done,” he said.

  There it was again, the sincerity I’d heard from him when we’d met for the first time. I looked him in the eyes, searching for some kernel of a lie, for the fear and mistrust I’d seen looking back at me every day of my damned life. But it wasn’t there. All I saw in his eyes was blazing, incomprehensible sincerity and fathomless warmth.

  I took a deep breath. “I want you to help me avoid the temple’s sentence. When we get to Ilor, I want you to help me find a contract. Quill said there were people who’d take a person like me. A dimmy.”

  Mal jerked his hand away from mine and looked at me like I’d set myself on fire.

  “What?” I asked. “Quill said you’d make a fortune off a dimmy’s contract. I thought you’d be pleased.”

  “Ignoring entirely the fact that we’re to deliver you to the temple, and I’ve no interest at all in a quarrel with the Shriven, what on earth would make you think that life as a contracted servant would be any better than what you’ve got waiting for you in Ilor?”

  I rolled my eyes. “You can’t honestly think that being some rich ass’s plaything for a few years would be worse than half a lifetime of hauling rocks, can you?”

  Mal bit his lip. “I don’t know. Those contracts are ironclad, and they don’t allow any rights for the workers themselves. The folks who hire out that kind of labor think nothing of exploiting the contracts for everything they’re worth.” He paused, and said quietly, “I don’t think it should be legal. It makes me sick.”

  Mal picked up a sandwich, studying it, carefully not looking at me. “No one tells folks when they sign up that they may never see the end of their contract. Uncle Hamlin’s even had some reports that say there are groups of folks who’ve run out on their contracts and are revolting against the worst of the rich folks. You don’t want that life, Vi.”

  “Maybe I do, and maybe I’ll live to regret it immensely. But at least it’d be my choice,” I said. I hesitated for a moment, and decided to be honest. “My only friend in the world is in Ilor. He and his sister came over on your ship. This ship. This could be a chance for me to see them again. Spend the rest of my life close to the only people who care about me.”

  Mal’s brow furrowed. “I know what it is to want to be around friends, but there’re risks involved, Vi, things you haven’t considered. I don’t want to see you in a situation that could erupt into all-out violence at any moment. And that’s even if we could get Hamlin to agree to this.”

  “But you’d ask him? For me?”

  The muscles in Mal’s jaw clenched, and he stared me down, unblinking. “Vi, before I bring this to him, I need you to understand what a difficult life you’d be setting yourself up for. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about the unrest in Ilor. They aren’t just rumors. Estates have been burned to the ground, whole farms abandoned when their laborers run away from their contracts. And if the runaways are caught? The law is cruel at its best. Plus, it’s not like you’d be getting out from under the temple’s thumb anyway.”

  My stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

  Mal looked away and finally took a bite of the sandwich he’d been holding. He chewed slowly, avoiding my eyes. Finally, he said, “Most of the people who hire contract work in Ilor are in debt to the temple in some way or another. Either they themselves are growing things on the temple’s behalf—fruit, kaffe, linen, that sort of thing—or they’re folks who pay enormous tithes to the temple in order to be overlooked in some way. They don’t take care of their employees the way they should, and the temple doesn’t care as long as their goods are delivered on time. You wouldn’t believe how much of what we export is owned by the temple. They collect nearly all of the profits from Ilor, and all of the goods are produced by underpaid and overburdened contract workers.”

  “But five or ten years of that kind of work is still better than twenty-five years of hard labor. Twenty-five years of being forced to adulations and watched by anchorites waiting for me to give them a reason to slice my head off my neck.”

  Mal grimaced. “But you’d still be signing your life away, agreeing to years working beneath someone you don’t know at all. You’ve no idea the kind of people who’d pay money to have one of the diminished on their property. No offense.”

  “But you do. Quill does. You’d make sure I didn’t sign a contract with someone awful.”

  Mal’s eyes softened again. “Think this through, Vi. Even if we agreed to it, you’re supposed to be fulfilling a sentence for the temple. Don’t you think they’ll be looking for you?”

  “Who’s going to tell them? You? Worst luck, Anchorite Lugine thinks to ask after my well-being, and they come looking for me. Someone will’ve paid a fortune for me. The temple doesn’t care enough about me that a bribe won’t send them on their way in a hurry.”

  I plucked a small cake off a silver tray and picked it apart. Bright red jam spilled across my fingers and onto the white porcelain plate in front of me, pooling like blood. I started to lick the jam off my finger, but stopped when I caught Mal’s amber eyes watching me. I used my linen napkin instead, wincing at the stain it created.

  “So. Will you help me?”

  Mal studied his hands for a moment. When he looked up, he said, “I’ll talk to Quill about how to approach Uncle Hamlin. I’m not making any promises, but I will try. For you. If you’re sure it’s what you really want.”

  I smiled at him. No one had ever thought twice about what it was like to walk in my shoes, and yet here was this young man—so empathetic, so kind that he’d put himself at odds with the temple to help me.

  “Why aren’t you scared of me?” I asked.

  Softly, Mal said, “I guess I can imagine what it would be like for me, if I lost Quill. He’s a bothersome cad, but I can’t imagine my life without him.” His eyes looked sad at the thought. “I’ve never been able to blame the diminished for what they do. It’s not as if any of them can help it. And you—you’ve been alone your whole life, and somehow, you’re still strong and smart and, well, whole. I admire you for that.”

  I bit my lip, looking away. “I’m not so strong as all that. I’m terrified of what’s coming next. All I wanted was to find a little cottage somewhere up north and wait out the violence. I know it’s coming, and I can’t stand it. It’s like I walk every day under the shroud of a crime I’ve not yet committed.” I gestured at the remains of our tea, at
the room. “And now there’s all this. I can’t afford to forget what my life was like before—”

  Mal reached across the table and laid a hand over mine. I let myself appreciate the warmth of his calloused fingers, the memory of what it was to have a friend for a moment.

  “I wonder,” I said, “if I could ask you for one last favor.”

  “Why not?” He laughed and took his hand away to refill our teacups.

  “No matter what happens with me and the temple, I wonder if you might help me find my friends before you leave Ilor. I’d like to know where they are—maybe see them again if I can.”

  Mal looked at me in confusion, then grinned.

  “You don’t know!” he said. “I thought that’s why you’d asked for our help, but of course, we haven’t told you yet.”

  “Told me what?” I asked.

  “Quill and I are finished with sailing. Our mother and aunt have an import and export business in the capital, and we’re going to run their office in Ilor. Quill and I both like the islands, and there’s money to be made there. Chances that don’t exist in Alskad.”

  “And give up the adventure of the high seas, traveling the world, for the life of a merchant trader?” I quipped.

  Mal looked at me quizzically. “It’s what our parents have always planned for us. I’ll manage our exports. Kaffe, precious metals and gems, some weapons, wine.”

  “And Quill?”

  “Quill’s running the import side.”

  “Contract labor? Working with the temple?” I asked, but I already knew the answer. I went to stand near the glass door that led to the deck and stared out at the ocean. Quill was funny and charming, and something about him made me want to melt into a puddle of blushes. But for all that, the fact that he planned to make his livelihood from negotiating labor contracts when he knew how badly the folks who took those contracts were treated set my teeth on edge.

  But I couldn’t let my feelings show—I’d asked for Mal’s help in doing just that. I wanted to contract myself out, and not as a laborer, as an oddity. And if I did everything right, I might be able to land near my friends, spend the rest of my days with Sawny and Lily. I might get close enough to find a bit of happiness for myself. If I wanted a chance at that sliver of joy, I had to keep myself in check.

  Mal crossed the room, took my hand and said, “He’s not a villain, Vi. He does everything in his power to see that the folks who choose this path are treated fairly. He does more than you know, more than I can tell you, to change the system from within.”

  “Maybe my contract will help you make a name for yourselves,” I said, forcing my voice to be airy and light. I wondered, though, what Mal meant about Quill changing the system.

  “Vi...” His voice was strained.

  “Honestly, Mal. Don’t think about it for a second. I’m sure you’re right. Quill would never let someone be taken advantage of. Not if he could help it.” Despite my best efforts, I sounded exhausted, frustrated. I plastered a smile across my face and looked up at him. “I’ve lived my whole life under the temple’s thumb. Any life would be better than what I’m facing.”

  A bell sounded in the hall, and Mal started.

  “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get back.” He squeezed my hand once before letting go. “I’m happy to know you, Vi.”

  “Talk to your uncle?” I asked.

  He nodded, and in a moment, he was gone, the tea cart with him. I collapsed on the bed, all the pieces of my plan spinning themselves into place like so many gears. I imagined my twin, a mirror of myself, and wished she could be here to share this with me. But then, if she’d lived, I wouldn’t be here, wouldn’t be so thrilled to find a pair of friends like Mal and Quill. If she’d lived, we might have been scheming to start a business of our own, or giggling over what it might be like if Quill tried to kiss me. I imagined kissing Quill, how his lips would feel against mine, how his arms would feel around me, his hands on my waist.

  I shook my head to clear away those thoughts—I couldn’t indulge my growing feelings for him. Instead, I fetched my pearls from their new hiding place between the mattresses. I spilled them out onto the blue bedspread and counted them, one by one. Sixty-three pearls. I’d thought they might serve as a bribe for the Whipplestons, to help me out of the temple’s grasp, but I hadn’t yet needed to add the extra incentive. Maybe instead, they could do something even more important. Maybe they could buy me a future after my contract, if Mal and Quill could convince their uncle to go along with our plan.

  I poured the pearls back into their pouch, put the pouch back in its hiding spot and went back to counting ceiling tiles. There were 194.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  BO

  Several mornings later, a thick envelope bearing the Queen’s seal waited for me on the breakfast table, along with a stack of condolence notes. Though I couldn’t hope to keep anything a secret from them for long, I slid Runa’s letter under my chair. I didn’t want to give either of them the opportunity to read any correspondence that might prove to be sensitive over my shoulder. Claes might be sequestered in his room, but his warning about Birger and Thamina burned bright through the fog of sleep and grief that lay heavy on my mind.

  I drank two cups of strong kaffe and read the bulk of the letters before the heady smell of bacon cooking awoke my appetite.

  “How kind of you to wait for us,” said Thamina as she strode into the room. Birger stumbled in close on her heels. The dark smudges under his eyes and the cloud of tafia fumes that surrounded him belied his clean shirt and damp hair. Birger had always been fond of drink, but the stench of cheap tafia was a new one, and until now, he’d not let his drinking interfere with my lessons.

  I noted, with growing ire, that Thamina wore the third new indigo mourning jacket I’d seen on her this week. I wondered if she thought I was too blinded by grief to notice all her new things, or if she just didn’t care. I certainly hadn’t increased her salary since Mother’s death, so she had to have found a new source of income—and even if Claes hadn’t warned me, it wouldn’t take much to imagine who’d bought her services.

  Though it had not been their custom before Mother’s death, my tutors had taken it upon themselves to have their meals with me in the days since. Presumably they meant me to think they were there to ensure that my grief did not overwhelm me. But it was obvious that Thamina, at least, had other priorities.

  She eyed my stubbly face and rolled sleeves with distaste, and said, “I believe that we ought to begin to discuss your plans for the coming year. Without the assurance of an alliance with Penelope, it is imperative that you are an irresistible candidate for marriage when you reenter society. Therefore, we must spend some time working on smoothing your rougher edges.”

  Birger drained a cup of kaffe and eyed his sister warily. Perhaps there was still a shred of loyalty beneath his corpulent, tafia-soaked exterior. I wondered if I could trust Gunnar enough to see if we couldn’t sway Birger back to our side.

  “They’ve not been gone two weeks,” I said, tapping my cuff nervously on the wooden table. Since Mother’s death, memories of my family, especially my father, had screamed for my attention through every moment of every day. This familiar conversation about my future and my marriage—I could feel it chipping away at the floodgates. My eyes felt hot, my throat tight, but I did my best to keep my tone level. “I’d like to abstain from discussing my marriage prospects until I’ve had sufficient time to grieve. The Queen wishes for me to make an appearance at court before the Solstice. Please make yourself ready to travel tomorrow if you wish to accompany me.”

  “As you wish, my lord, but I’m afraid we mustn’t put off this conversation. I feel it is my duty to see that you make an appropriate match.”

  “Thamina...” Birger stopped at the derisive look his sister shot him and went back to moving food around on his plate.

  “Your
duty is to see to my education in preparation for becoming the King of the Alskad Empire. It certainly is not—” I bit out the word, making it as sharp as the anger rising inside me “—your duty to think about or plan for my marriage. If you continue to presume duties outside those you’ve been hired to fulfill, I’ll see that your time as my employee comes to a quick end.”

  Thamina’s mouth fell open, and even as I maintained my glare, I berated myself. It would do me no good at all to let Thamina know what she could do to get under my skin. Any advantage she was able to find over me would inevitably be passed along to Patrise, and he undoubtedly knew too much already.

  I cleared my throat. “As I said, we’ll leave tomorrow. See that Claes’s things are packed for him.”

  Both Birger and Thamina looked at me with horror in their eyes.

  “Surely Claes will not agree to return to Penby. Not with his...condition,” Birger wheezed.

  “I’ve no idea what you mean by that,” I said coldly.

  “He’s diminished,” Thamina said, looking as if she couldn’t believe she had to spell it out for me. “You cannot mean to bring one of the diminished into the capital. What will the Queen think? What if he were to do something? The Shriven would take him. Behead him. You cannot want that.”

  An image of Claes, pale and weeping softly in his darkened bedroom, flooded my brain. My stomach clenched, and bile rose in my throat. I bit my lip, forcing the contents of my stomach back down.