The Diminished

by Kaitlyn Sage Patterson

  “Lower your weapons, if you please. My name is Bo Abernathy,” I said. “I’ve been hired by Gerlene Vermatch to assess the progress of operations on this estate. I would like to be taken to the manager of the property—Fredricks, I think it is.”

  The man lowered his rifle a scant inch and glanced at the woman next to him. “I can’t say I know a Gerlene Vermatch. Do you, sissy?”

  “I know that the Lady Myrella, whose place this is, gave some pretty strict orders about visitors. Do you recall what those were, brother?” The woman kept her rifle trained on me.

  “Shoot ’em,” he said. “Throw the bodies in the jungle for the wild dogs and catamounts.”

  “Reckon we ought to follow orders.”

  “Wait!” I cried. “Gerlene Vermatch is Lady Myrella Gyllen’s solicitor. I am certain that if you take me to the person in charge, I can prove the veracity of my statement.”

  “Veracity means truth, dunderheads,” Swinton said.

  “That is not helpful,” I hissed.

  The riders lowered their weapons and removed their hats, using them to shield their faces from us as they whispered back and forth.

  “I suppose if I get shot today, there’s little chance I’ll go on a killing spree tomorrow,” Swinton mused. “Not a total loss, then.”

  “If you keep talking, I might be the one taken by a murderous impulse,” I whispered.

  Swinton beamed at me, eyes sparkling.

  Settling their hats back in place, the pair—I could see they were twins now, with the same thick eyebrows and muddy eyes—slid their rifles into holsters that hung from their saddles.

  “You’ll come with us,” the woman snapped. “But one false move, and I’ll have a hole in your gut sooner’n you can say a prayer to your god.”

  Swinton grinned at me. “Today’s coming up aces, ain’t it, little lord?”

  I glared and kneed my horse into motion.

  * * *

  The rifle-toting guards led us to a rambling, shingle-sided mansion that possessed an air of dilapidated elegance. Under careful supervision, we tied our horses to a hitching post and climbed the front stairs. The woman told us to wait on the porch, which was shaded by tall trees, their limbs all hung with lacy, gray-green moss, while she fetched the overseer. Her brother settled himself in a wicker chair and propped his rifle against his knee. It was an excellent firearm, nicer than most I’d seen in the colonies.

  “Y’all go on ahead and sit down,” he said. “Makes me antsy watching you stand there.”

  “Thank you, I will,” I said with as much dignity as I could muster, and sat gingerly on a swing.

  Swinton perched on the porch’s railing, as casual as you please. “What’s your name, bully? I do hate to have my life threatened by a man whose name I don’t know, even when his weapon’s as nice as that one there.”

  The other man narrowed his already small eyes and pursed his lips, like remembering his name was a nearly impossible task. “They call me Hoss. Hoss Dickle. I’m the luckiest man in Ilor to be employed here at this nice place with the kind of boss we got ourselves. Woman knows her way around a weapon, that’s for damned sure.”

  I snorted.

  “You got a problem with my name?” Hoss snarled.

  “That can’t possibly be your real name,” I said.

  “Don’t be too sure,” Swinton said, tone serious. “I’ve known a number of great men named Hoss in my time. Dickle, you say? Any relation to the Lakehead Dickles?”

  I shook my head in astonishment. Swinton could charm the embroidery off a merchant’s coat and be paid for the favor, no doubt.

  “They’re my mother’s folks. She came up here ’round about...oh, I’d say near on forty years ago now. Right after she took up with my pa. He was a Munn, see. You heard about the Dickles’ feud with the Munns, I’ll warrant. Folks weren’t best pleased when Ma took up with Pa, so they decided to ride on up out of there.”

  “Well, I’ll be. I was just telling—”

  The screen door slammed open, and Swinton’s monologue cut off abruptly. Hoss’s sister stalked out of the house. Her sour expression twisted up even more when she saw her brother, elbows on his knees, grinning at Swinton.

  “Hoss, I swear. I’m going to wring your neck for you one of these days. What do you think you’re doing?” She smacked her brother on the back of the head, and he rose, rubbing his scalp and looking perturbed. “Boss’ll see y’all now. Best come on ahead afore she gets her toes twisted.”

  We followed her into the cool, dim foyer, past a broad staircase and into an elegantly appointed study. The rugs were silk, the bookshelves crammed with rich, leather-bound books and the furniture elegantly appointed. The woman gestured to a pair of wing-backed chairs. “Sit. Boss’ll be here in a minute.”

  Swinton raised an eyebrow at me. “Nice stuff for a backwoods farm manager, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  A well-dressed woman swept into the room, her attention focused on the folder she carried. “Excuse me. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. Clem says that you’re a clerk sent by Gerlene Vermatch. Is that right? Why Myrella would involve her solicitor is simply beyond me. We’ve been following her instructions to the letter. Is this to do with the last shipment?”

  I gaped. “Aunt Ephemella? What...what are you doing here?” I stammered. The one thing I had been counting on—my anonymity—shattered around me like a crystal glass dropped on a dance floor.

  “Ambrose?” She fumbled the folder, and papers floated gently to the floor. Her tan face paled above the high-cut neck of her long, Ilorian-style linen tunic, and her tiny hands fluttered around her face. “What are you doing here? It’s the twins, isn’t it? Oh, Dzallie preserve me.”

  My heart sank. Ephemella wasn’t technically related to me—she was Penelope and Claes’s mother’s twin—but I’d always known her as Aunt Ephemella. She’d been as close to them as their parents before they decided to immigrate, and she clearly hadn’t heard the news about them and Mother yet.

  I crossed the room and stilled her hands, leading her to a chair. “I’m so sorry, Auntie,” I said. “I thought you were at your estate in northern Ilor. The letter I sent...”

  Swinton knelt on the carpet and collected the papers that had fallen there. Tears gathered in the corners of Aunt Ephemella’s dark eyes. She’d grown stouter in the years since I’d seen her last, and her rounded cheeks did away with the hawkish quality she’d had in the past.

  “Don’t keep me waiting, darling!” she said in her high, timorous voice. “Tell me why you’re here.”

  I eyed Swinton over my aunt’s shoulder. He appeared to be completely absorbed in one of the papers he’d bent to retrieve. “After Mother’s death—”

  She interrupted me. “Myrella is dead? What happened? No, tell me about the twins. What’s happened to them?”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said awkwardly. “I wish you had gotten my letter. There was an accident at the mill. Mother and Penelope were there on business. I’m afraid there was nothing to be done.”

  “Was it murder?” Ephemella asked. “Was it Rylain? I never trusted that old horror’s supposed shyness and seclusion.”

  My back stiffened. “If it was murder, I’ve seen no evidence of it. I’d hardly suspect Rylain would be the one responsible, though.”

  “And Claes?”

  “I suspect he’s gone by now. He didn’t seem to have much time left when I left Penby.”

  Ephemella’s chin trembled, and her eyes filled with tears, but she did not weep. “What possessed you to come all the way here?”

  Something wasn’t right. Ephemella should have been running her own estates, miles and miles away. “I needed to get away from Alskad for a bit,” I said hesitantly, “and when Gerlene told me that Mother held land here, I thought I might c
ome to see it for myself. After all, Ilor is part of the empire.” I paused, and asked, “Why aren’t you at your estates? Where are Uncle Rudell and Aunt Limina?”

  Ephemella waved her hand dismissively. “They’re looking after things at home. You can’t mean that you’ve suddenly taken an interest in the management of your affairs? Runa surely can’t have approved of this trip.”

  Swinton continued to study the paper he was holding, but he tensed at the mention of the Queen’s name, and the muscles in his jaw tightened.

  “I’ve always been interested. That’s the reason I’ve taken it upon myself to understand the extent of my holdings.”

  “I’m sure that Runa wants you back in Penby as soon as possible. And she’ll need to find you a new match. You can’t be left unmarried. It wouldn’t do,” Ephemella rambled.

  “Runa gave me permission to come,” I said, gritting my teeth in irritation. “Why don’t you tell me about this estate? What’s grown here? Where is the overseer that Mother hired?”

  “Philomenas,” Aunt Ephemella said with a sigh. “Your mother entered into a farming contract for this land, and when her manager fell through—well, I was close and willing to do her a favor. There wasn’t any reason that you should have known. I split my time between the two estates, and Clem and Hoss take care of the place when I’m gone.”

  Swinton gasped. My aunt twisted in her chair and caught sight of Swinton, papers bunched in his hand. He stuck his index finger in his mouth and smiled apologetically. “Apologies, ma’am. I got me a paper cut,” he mumbled around his finger.

  “I’m the one who should apologize.” I stood, smiling at my aunt. “Aunt Ephemella, may I present my friend and guide, Swinton. Swinton, this is the Lady Ephemella Brace, Duchess of Ablemarlis and Kinsingmore, Marchioness of Oysells.”

  Ephemella extended her hand, which Swinton bowed over. She smiled and said, “A pleasure to meet you. You will stay with us for a time, won’t you? I’ll have the servants make up rooms for you both.” She glanced at the papers in Swinton’s hand. “Oh, do set those on the desk. They came earlier, and I haven’t had time to sit down and puzzle them out. Tell me, Swinton, do you read?”

  “No, ma’am,” he said.

  That was a lie. He could read. I’d seen him. I wondered what he was up to.

  “It really is too bad about the horrible educational system here, isn’t it?”

  “Surely is, ma’am. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to see about our horses.” Swinton bowed obsequiously, and as he left the room, I saw a flash of white paper slip into his shirtsleeve.

  “Wherever did you find a strapping young man like that? I believe he might be taller than you!”

  I laughed. I’d forgotten how charmingly straightforward my aunt could be. She was so unlike her shrewd, secretive sister.

  “Now tell me, child, where did you find this Swinton fellow? I would hate to see you taken advantage of.” Her eyes were narrowed, and insistence crept into her voice, reminding me that this was a noblewoman I was dealing with. Someone accustomed to games and deceptions. I needed to sharpen my tactics and go forward warily.

  “He’s been incredibly helpful. No need for you to worry about him.”

  Aunt Ephemella nodded, and an affectionate smile spread across her face. “You look a mess, my dear. I’ll see that the servants prepare rooms for you and your companion. You’ll both want to get cleaned up before we eat. Dinner at seven?”

  My heart was in my throat as I left the study. The lies and half-truths I’d told Swinton swirled around my head. He had looked furious as he’d stalked out the door, and more than anything, I wanted to make it right with him. He was the only person I’d ever known who seemed to like me based on nothing but my personality. At this point, he was the only person who actually knew the real me—who I was behind the crown and the cuff on my wrist that shackled me to the throne.

  I didn’t want that to disappear.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  VI

  I woke to an earsplitting scream in the middle of the night. A crash followed, like a sack of grain being thrown down the barn’s steep loft staircase. I sat up in my bed, fuzzy headed and heavy lidded, wondering if I’d dreamed it. I’d had a lot of nightmares since leaving the temple, but they didn’t often wake me.

  Another shriek came from outside the barn. I sprang out of bed, the sleep washed from my limbs in a rush of fear, and hurriedly pulled on a pair of trousers. I slid my feet into sandals as I ran out of my rooms. The cries continued, but curiously, I didn’t hear the women who shared the loft room above my apartments scrambling to get out of bed.

  The barn was usually quiet after sundown, but for the occasional snorts and crackle of hay as the horses shifted their weight in their sleep. Tonight, though, the yelling had woken the sleeping beasts, and they stirred restlessly in their stalls. Riker, Aphra’s big sorrel, pawed at his stall door, and Phineas’s palomino whinnied in the stall next to him. I wished that I could do something to comfort them, but the screams coming from outside were human, and whoever it was needed help more than the horses needed soothing.

  I snuck down the stall-lined hallway and eased through a crack in the back door. The twin halves of the moon were just slivers that night, and clouds curtained the stars, blocking their light. I tiptoed along the outside of the barn, careful not to make any noise. Flickering firelight outlined the edge of the building, and when I peeked around the corner, my eyes went wide. I didn’t even have the presence of mind to stifle my own yelp, though screams covered the sound.

  Those awful, blood-curdling wails came from a woman, stripped to the waist and lashed to the fence posts. Her long hair hung in knotted ropes that spidered across her welted back and over her shoulders, trailing blood. Two men, silhouetted in the torchlight, swayed with their backs to me. They were of a height, with the same sloping shoulders and thick waists, and they each held a whip in one hand. One other person stood in the circle of torchlight: Hepsy, her face carefully impassive.

  The whips cracked once and again, and two more red stripes appeared on the woman’s back. One man turned, laughing, to face the other, and I saw clearly then that it was Phineas, his pale skin turned red in the firelight. The two men weren’t identical, but the similarities in their hard faces were striking. Phineas, whose jaw was squarer, clapped the other man—his nose much sharper than his twin’s—on the shoulder, and over the sobs and moans of the woman, I heard him say, “What do you think, brother? Has she had enough?”

  “She ruined your surprise, Phin. Didn’t she? Give her ten more.” He turned to Hepsy. “You wouldn’t let her get off so easy, would you, Hepsy? You’re tougher than aurochs’ hooves.”

  Her lips compressed ever so slightly, but then Hepsy smiled. “Thank you ever so much for the kind compliment, Mister Spivey. I’m sure you know better than I what’s for the best.”

  “Call me Singen, won’t you, dear?”

  Phineas barked a laugh, which was matched by his brother. “Five more lashes, Singen. Then we’ll have a nip and turn in.”

  The woman moaned and twisted in her bonds, trying in vain to get loose. Her sun-bleached hair fell away from her face, and I saw the upturned line of Myrna’s nose. As Singen and Phineas lifted their whips, all I could see was Lily. Her sharp face contorted in pain. Her sleek black hair damp with her own blood, and Sawny forced to watch. Before I had a chance to talk myself out of it, I ran from my hiding place, shouting one word over and over again.

  “Stop. Stop it! Stop!”

  Phineas’s arm dropped to his side, and the whip coiled by his leg. It wasn’t until he turned to look at me, his face contorted in a furious grimace, that the weight of what I’d done settled on my shoulders like an iron mantle. For one endless moment, the world stood still, and the only sounds were Myrna’s sobs, the crackling of the torches and the orchestra of our collective breathing.

&
nbsp; “I think that girl gave you an order, brother mine,” Singen said.

  Myrna groaned and sagged against the ropes that held her, blood and sweat rolling over the welts on her back. Phineas glanced from her to me and back again. A slow smile blossomed over his face.

  “You tell me to stop, Vi, but you are as much to blame for this as she is. But it’s good you came out here. I should have thought of this beforehand.”

  “String her up, too. I’d warrant a few stripes would be becoming on skin like that.” The lustful, untamed violence in Singen’s eyes sent a panicked need to flee screaming through my veins, but I remained rooted in place, held by some invisible force. This scene was so blindingly, infuriatingly wrong. I didn’t know how it could’ve happened. How it could’ve even started. I just knew that I had to make it stop.

  “Get over here,” Phineas ordered. “See what you’ve done.”

  I didn’t move. I’d spent my whole life keeping my head down, working to keep the grief from breaking me and not knowing my own twin was close at hand the whole time. I’d kept my mouth shut when I saw other dimmys harassed, beaten. I’d watched the cruelty of twins equal anything I’d seen from even the worst dimmys.

  I was done with shutting up. Done with holding my tongue. I wouldn’t let anyone else die at Phineas’s hand.

  “I’m not the one with a whip in my hand,” I said coldly. “I don’t see where you get off claiming this is my fault, you pathetic, horrible little man.”

  Phineas started toward me. “I gave you one simple task,” he said, beating a steady cadence against his thigh as he slowly closed the distance between us. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

  “Can’t let them mouth off like that. You’ve got to show her who makes the rules,” Singen slurred.

  My heart raced in my chest, screaming for me to run.

  Thump, thump.

  The rabid fury in Phineas’s eyes hypnotized me. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. But there was something else, too. My own rage grew like a fire in my chest. I’d spent my whole life tamping down that anger, and now, standing in front of me was a person so insecure, so unstable, that he’d decided he could use another person’s pain to fuel the fire of his power. I wouldn’t let this moment pass without taking revenge.