The Diminished

by Kaitlyn Sage Patterson

  I wanted revenge. I knew, from the newshawkers back in Penby and the warnings the Whipplestons had impressed up on me, that there was some kind of rebel group fighting back against cruel people like Phineas. I wondered if there might be a way for me to find them. Help them.

  And if they might, in turn, help me avenge Sawny and Lily.

  Halfway back to the barn, I heard hoofbeats and glanced around, wondering who it might be. People came and went on horseback all the time, and there’d already been scads of deliveries for Aphra’s birthday celebration since I arrived at Plumleen. Suddenly, a horse I recognized rounded the corner, and I gasped. My head spun, and, not sure what else to do, I dove into the clump of bushes closest to me, leaving my cart abandoned.

  I must look like quite the fool, Pru, I thought, but even as I thought the words, I felt fear coursing through my veins, remembering Phineas’s warnings. I watched from between the leaves as Aphra’s horse, a lovely sorrel gelding, cantered by with a woman on his back. The woman, who could’ve been no one but Aphra, rode like she was part of her horse. She wore her hair in a low coil, strands of red and gold knotted together and covered by a wide-brimmed hat. She, like me and the stable girls, wore tight breeches and a sleeveless blouse, though her breeches were impeccable, glowing white, and her blouse was light and dark green striped silk.

  After she disappeared, I stayed crouched behind my bush for a long while. I’d never imagined that I would see an amalgam, and I was as afraid of her and the stories I’d grown up with as I was terrified of what Phineas would do to me if she saw me. I kept myself hidden until I thought enough time must have passed for her to get back to the barn and tend her horse herself. Not, of course, that the lady of the estate would have enough time to do a chore like that, but I wanted to be safe.

  Myrna was walking the big sorrel gelding, Riker, into his stall, still a little damp from having the sweat washed off him, when I finally wheeled my cart back into the barn. She slid Riker’s halter over his ears and gave him an affectionate scratch on his forehead. She caught sight of me as soon as she closed the stall door. “Rayleane’s teeth! Where have you been? You decide to take a nap in one of the hammocks on the way back?”

  “I saw her,” I panted.

  “Saw who?” Myrna asked. She dipped a ladle into a bucket of well water kept for the stable hands to drink and handed it to me. I drank gratefully and splashed a little on my face. She eyed me up and down, plucking a leaf from my hair. “Where’ve you been hiding? I’ve taken three carts myself since you took yours, and the gardeners said you left near abouts an hour ago.”

  “I did,” I said, and told her about seeing Aphra in the garden. By the time I finished, all the color had drained from Myrna’s face, and her mouth was compressed into a thin, hard line.

  “Did she see you?” Myrna asked.

  “I don’t know. She was moving along at a right smart clip—that Riker’s faster than my Beetle by half—but I wasn’t exactly sly. I left my cart right there on the lawn when I dove into the bushes.”

  “Dzallie’s bosom,” Myrna spat. “This is all my fault. I should have kept you well out of sight.”

  “How bad would it be if she saw me?”

  Myrna pursed her lips again and glanced at her boots. “Breaking one of Phineas’s rules is bad enough on a good day. But with the stress of this celebration, and the fact that Singen arrived this morning... Magritte’s nose,” she swore. “Let’s hope she didn’t see you, or if she did, she forgets all about it.”

  “Why does it matter so much? Surely she doesn’t know every servant at Plumleen.”

  “You wouldn’t think so, would you? No, if she got even half a look at you, she’d know you were new. She knows everybody on this estate, for better or worse. Let’s hope she doesn’t ask Phineas, not while Singen’s here.”

  “Who’s Singen?” I asked.

  “Singen is Phineas’s twin. They—well, you know how some twins make each other better? Push one another to be nicer or more pious?”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “Well, the Oxfeld men—that was their name before they married—they bring out the worst in each other. Singen’s servants say that he hardly drinks when he’s at home, but when he’s here, he swills liquor like it’s water,” Myrna explained. “And Phineas is strict, but usually fair. The minute Singen shows up, anything might be enough to earn his ire. Singen was here visiting when...” She trailed off.

  I winced, realizing she was referring to the incident with Lily.

  Myrna bit her lip and paused for a long moment before she finally said, “It wasn’t just Lily that time, either. Phineas gave one of the houseboys fifteen lashes for eating an apple too loudly. He happened to walk by when the boy was having his snack, and the next thing any of us knew, the boy was tied to the fence, screaming his lungs out. Cracked two ribs and only just got back to work. He got two days added to his contract for each one he missed.”

  My stomach turned and twisted, coiling into a heavy knot in my belly. It didn’t seem possible. It couldn’t be legal. But I remembered the warnings Mal and Quill had given me, everything they’d told me about the unfair balance of power and the law. Fury was well on its way to replacing my grief now. If I could manage to do anything with my life, I wanted to put an end to this kind of injustice. The problem was, I had no idea where to start.

  “All that for eating an apple too loud?” I asked. “How are you supposed to eat a damned apple?”

  Myrna chuckled grimly. “Far, far away from Phineas. He hates to hear anyone chewing. There’s always a musician in the dining room. Always. It’s the only way he can eat in the same room as anyone else.”

  “What does Aphra say about all this?” I asked.

  “She won’t take a whip to any of us, but I’ve never heard of her stopping him. It seems like she indulges him in everything. Never mind about that, though. There’s nothing to be done now. I need to get the herd fed and turned out for the night.”

  “Can I help?”

  “No,” Myrna said, taking me by the shoulders and steering me toward the door to my rooms. “You any good with a needle and thread?”

  “I’ll do,” I said cautiously.

  Myrna grinned, opened my door and gave me a gentle shove. “Good. I’ve got a heap of saddle pads what need mending, and we should probably keep you out of sight for a while.”

  I sighed and closed the door behind me, turning over the day’s events as I absently greeted the dogs. I wished Madame Laroche hadn’t gotten her eyes on me, but a part of me was glad I’d seen her at last. My glimpse of her assured me that she didn’t have green skin or a second head, but as I sat down to repair the pile of saddle pads my mind churned, wondering how I might coax more information about Aphra out of Myrna. That, I supposed, was better than the alternative, because thinking about Phineas made my skin crawl, and I’d almost certainly begin to weep if I spent another moment dwelling on Lily and Sawny.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  BO

  Where Cape Hillate had been a rabbit warren of twisting paths and secret squares, the lamp-lit, cobblestone streets of Williford were laid in a wide, spacious grid that extended out from the harbor and stopped within a hair’s breadth of the jungle. Even late in the evening, long after the sun had fallen below the horizon, heat still oozed from the earth and sweat prickled my neck as I tried to keep pace with Swinton. His long strides ate up distance with an ease and grace that totally escaped me.

  When we finally stopped, I was drenched and heaving. Swinton led me across a wide lawn to a three-story, porch-ringed house set far back from the street. A line of lamps glowed along the front porch rail and the high garden wall. Two windows on the lower floor shone with the warm light of solar lamps, as did the glass-paned front door.

  “Ready?” he asked. Before I could answer, he rapped on the door and whispered, “Remember to follow my
lead.”

  A lithe, middle-aged woman with fiery red hair and laugh lines around her freckled mouth swung open the door, took one long look at Swinton and flew at him. I drew in a quick breath and squeezed my eyes tight shut, steadying myself against an attack. But laughter rang through the thick night air, and I looked up to see Swinton twirling the woman in a circle, their heads thrown back in glee.

  “Whenever did you get back to Williford, pet?” she asked. Her musical voice carried the lilt of Ilor and was backed by a rasp like nutmeg in a spice mill.

  Their questions came fast, toppling over each other like eager puppies.

  “When did you leave my ma’s place?”

  “What’re you doing here then, and at this hour?”

  “Your brother still making those cocoa cream rolls? I’m hungry just thinking of them.”

  “How’s your Auntie Kelladra?”

  When the barrage of questions finally ended in more laughter, Swinton said, “It’s right good to see you, Noona, and I’m that sorry to trouble you so late, but I’m here looking for Mal and Quill. Might I speak with them?”

  She swatted him with a towel she’d had draped over her shoulder. “And look at you, forgotten all your manners as soon as you got grown and out of your ma’s house? Who’s this, then?”

  Swinton glanced over his shoulder at me, grinned and dropped into an overly elaborate bow. “My dearest Noona, it is my great and profound honor to present to you Mister Bo Abernathy of the Alskad Empire, newly arrived in our great colony of Ilor. Mister Abernathy, the woman who is responsible, if not for my good looks, then at least for my excellent manners and brilliant education, Missus Noona Booker-Hirsch. My ma hired Noona when I was wee to help care for my brother and me.”

  A shadow crossed Noona’s face at the mention of Swinton’s brother, but she took my hand and gave it a firm shake, studying my face with narrowed eyes. “A pleasure. You come on in. Mal’s still out, but I’ll see if Quill can’t come down and have a chat with you.”

  Noona ushered us into the house and deposited us in a comfortable sitting room before bustling up the stairs. She returned a moment later with a young man, presumably Mal’s twin, Quill. He was identical to the man I’d met earlier, but for the hair. His tied back in long locks rather than the short curls Mal sported. Swinton stood and grasped Quill’s elbow, drawing him close and clapping him on the back. Both of them were beaming when Swinton released him.

  “It surely is good to see you, bully. Quill, this is Bo. Bo Abernathy. He’s hired me to help him find his sister. We think you might be set up to lend us a hand.”

  Quill looked over Swinton’s shoulder at me, and took a step back, fumbled his way to a chair and sat with a loud exhalation. “Abernathy, is it?”

  Swinton raised an eyebrow at me encouragingly. I sat in a chair opposite Quill and tugged my sleeve down over my cuff in a swift, practiced motion. It’d become habit at that point, to tuck the telltale gold into my sleeve. To keep it hidden. I bit the inside of my cheek, wondering how close to the truth I might tread. “My mother’s name is Abernathy, as is my sister’s. We’d hoped that you would know her. We think she may have crossed the Tethys on your uncle’s ship.”

  Quill’s face had turned impassive. I looked to Swinton, hoping a touch of his confidence might bolster me. He squeezed my hand.

  “Look,” I continued, a pleading note in my voice. “We’d heard your firm made an enormous commission on her contract. I’m trying to find out if the girl you worked with was my sister.”

  Quill’s tawny gold gaze locked on me, and he seemed to choose his next words with a great deal of care. “I don’t discuss other folks’ contracts. Even if I did remember your girl, I wouldn’t be able to help you. Bad for business, see.”

  “You’d remember this one,” Swinton said. “She’s a dimmy. Vi Abernathy, by name.”

  “And why, exactly, are you looking for her? Not saying as I know her or not, but if she’s taken a contract in Ilor, she’ll not be going anywhere for quite some years.”

  Swinton gave me a long look and nodded. I steeled myself and plunged closer to the truth than was necessarily comfortable. I hoped that sympathy—or if not that, then gold lust—would convince Quill to help me. “I only recently learned of Vi’s existence. It seems that my father had an affair with her mother that led to the birth of Vi and her twin. He left a large estate, and, well, it seemed only fair...”

  I cleared my throat. Before I could go on, heavy footsteps on the front porch interrupted my thoughts, and a moment later, the door was flung open. Mal stormed into the house, shouting for Quill. He slammed the door shut, and the windows rattled in their frames.

  “Quill! Haul your gods’-damned arse out of bed.” Mal’s thunderous steps started up the stairs and stopped abruptly. “Oh. Noona. I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t wake you. Have you seen my brother?” His voice took on a chastened, almost boyish tone, and Quill looked as though he was struggling to hold back a smile.

  “Might be if you took a moment to look around before you came hollering, you would’ve seen your brother in the sitting room.” She lowered her voice into a dramatic, though still-audible, whisper. “With guests.”

  I managed to get to my feet as Mal barreled into the room. Mal took Swinton and me in with a single glance and shot an accusatory stare at his brother. Noona followed him, clucking with irritation, and set a tray of pastries and a pitcher of milky tea, beaded with condensation, on a low table.

  She patted Quill on the shoulder, pinched Mal’s arm and said, “I’m off to bed now. No more shouting, or else I’ll wake my sister and set her on you.”

  Once Noona left the room, Mal demanded, “What’re you doing here? I told you before I don’t know anything about the girl you’re looking for.”

  “We didn’t think to trouble you with it again,” Swinton said, charm oozing from his smile. “I’d thought your brother might know more, him being the one who handles contract work and all. We’re happy to pay you for any information you care to pass along.”

  Quill raised an eyebrow and shrugged. Mal shook his head, scowling.

  I tried a different tactic. “My only wish is to meet my sister and see that she receives the inheritance she’s due. I’ve no desire to disrupt the life she’s chosen for herself.”

  Swinton narrowed his eyes at me. “What Bo means to say is that if you do, in fact, know where his sister is working, he’ll do nothing to jeopardize your relationship with your customers.”

  I caught the thread of his argument and ran with it. “Actually, I may even be able to help grow your business. My employer has an estate here in Ilor that she’s asked me to look in on. I believe the majority of the work there is done by contract laborers. It wouldn’t be outside the realm of possibility for me to make some kind of arrangement with your exchange firm in return for your assistance.”

  “That’s all well and good,” Mal said. “But we don’t know the girl, do we? Now, I hate to be rude, but it’s awfully late and—”

  “Mal, don’t be—”

  “Enough!” Mal said firmly. “Now, I’d like for these gentlemen to leave so that I can find my bed.” He extended his hand to Swinton. “If you find yourself in these parts again soon, I’d love to have a game of brag with you, yes?”

  Our window was closing, and I couldn’t imagine how I’d manage to find Vi without the help of the Whipplestons. I needed them to see how dire her situation would soon become, even if it meant breaking my agreement with Swinton.

  “Please,” I said, a desperate note in my voice. “I need to find her. The Shriven are, even as we speak, looking for Vi. I’ve no idea how long it will be before they manage to track her down, but if I’ve found you, they certainly will, and there’s no telling what they’ll do to her. I’m begging you—please help me.”

  Swinton’s face turned to stone, and within a moment, Mal was st
eering us through the door and onto the porch, closing it decidedly behind us. The lock thudded into place, echoing like distant thunder, and inside, heavy footfalls mounted the stairs. We stood silently on the porch, side by side. I moved to leave, my heart crumbling to dust in my chest, but Swinton caught my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “Wait,” he said, and his lips curled in a sly smile. “We’re going to have a talk about your little outburst, but just you wait a moment.”

  Even though my throat was as tight as if I were being choked, and I felt as though I’d flayed myself open and left my heart beating in that entry hall, I was comforted by Swinton’s touch. As his thumb absently drew circles on the tender skin of my wrist, I closed my eyes and breathed in the cool night air. It smelled so green, so fresh. I thought I could actually smell the new growth as it shot out of the ground. I inhaled the salty ocean wind, too, carrying its deep secrets. It was, however, Swinton’s scent that captivated me—musky, pine-scented soap overlaid with smoke and makgee, and below that, something uniquely his own. A scent I would, even after such a short time with him, recognize anywhere.

  “Do you trust them, Swinton?” I asked.

  “Enough,” he said, and brought my wrist to his lips, asking a silent question that sent delicious shudders all down my spine. It wasn’t until our hands dropped back to our sides and the gold bracelet—the symbol of my place in life—fell heavily back into place, and my heart with it, that I realized what Swinton might now suspect about who I was.

  We couldn’t have been on the porch for more than a few minutes, my heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings as my thoughts raced to match, before the front door opened once again and someone stepped out onto the porch. Swinton let go of my hand, and my treacherous stomach sank. We turned, and Quill stepped into the circle of lamplight where we stood. I scrubbed a hand through my hair, waiting for him to speak.