The Diminished

by Kaitlyn Sage Patterson

  For Lily. For Sawny. And now, for Myrna. The thought of it was sweet on my tongue.

  “I told you to keep out of Aphra’s sight,” Phineas growled.

  I glared at Hepsy, but she assiduously avoided my gaze. Phineas was less than a pace away. I wanted to break his nose. I wanted to feel it crunch under my fist. I wanted to do to him the same violence he’d done to my friends.

  Thump, thump.

  “But wouldn’t you know, after dinner tonight, my darling wife said something that took me quite by surprise. What did she say, brother?”

  “She said she’d seen the strangest thing. She saw a girl she didn’t recognize dive into the bushes when she rode by the other day. She has the irritating habit of learning the name of every servant who sets foot on this estate.” Singen’s voice was thick with disdain.

  Phineas loomed over me. “I can’t whip you and give you to Aphra bruised and striped. What would the guests at the party think? But Hepsy said she told you to find something to do, and Myrna admitted that she sent you into the gardens when she knew Aphra was out riding.” He paused, and a wicked smile spread across his lips. “Now, Hepsy and I have an understanding. She’ll see her wages docked these next few months, and that’s punishment enough. But Myrna can still do her job with a few stripes on her back, and she should have known better. Isn’t that right, Hepsy?”

  “It is, sir.” Her voice came from over my shoulder, but I was too frightened and furious to look away from Phineas’s eyes.

  “And I can make Vi watch, can’t I, Hepsy?” Phineas asked.

  “You can, sir. You’re the boss.”

  I clenched my jaw and did everything in my power to keep the fear off my face. My fists were knotted by my sides. If I hit him with his brother right there, it would be the last thing I did. I’d lose my chance for real revenge.

  Self-control was a whisper-thin net holding me back.

  “Do you know what I can make you do, Vi?”

  I glowered in response.

  “I can make you mete out your new friend’s punishment.”

  My mouth dropped open. He couldn’t be serious.

  Singen cackled. “Oh, Phin! That’s too good.”

  I growled a single word. “No.”

  Phineas grabbed my jaw in one hand. The crushing force of his fingers brought tears to my eyes. “Now you’ve broken two rules, girl. You do not say ‘no’ to me. Not ever.”

  Terror flooded my body, and my knees went wobbly. Phineas grabbed me by my hair and dragged me, stumbling and cursing, to stand next to his twin in the circle of torchlight.

  “What’s the count, Hepsy?” he asked.

  “Myrna’s had twenty, sir.”

  “I was going to stop at twenty-five, for the number of years my dear wife has been alive,” Phineas said. “But for your edification, Vi, we shall up the count to thirty.”

  A low moan rose from Myrna’s slumped form, and she started to wail. I was going to be sick. Phineas opened my balled fist and closed my hand around the hard, braided leather handle of the whip.

  I wanted to turn it on him instead.

  “Ten, please. And if Singen or I think you’re going too easy, we’ll add two more lashes each and dock you a month’s pay.”

  “You’ll need to step into it to make it really count,” Singen said wickedly, and handed his brother his own whip. “Put your weight behind it.”

  Between gritted teeth, I said, “You can’t make me do this.”

  In a flash, Phineas’s hand was tangled in my hair. He yanked my head back and leaned over me. Pain radiated from my skull. His eyes glowed in the torchlight, and he raised his other hand, the one holding his brother’s whip. “You’re a dimmy. My dimmy. And you’ll do as I say.”

  I howled, as much with anger as with pain. The whip cracked behind me, and a flash of pain seared the backs of my legs. I fell hard onto my knees. The whip cracked again, and Myrna whimpered.

  A new voice, one I did not recognize, rang out across the stable yard, clear as silver bells. “What in the names of Rayleane, Dzallie and Magritte do you think you are doing?”

  Phineas let go of my hair, and I swiped a hand across my eyes to clear away the tears. My chest heaved, and I fought hard to keep the sobs that robbed me of breath from devolving into wails. A soft, cool hand cupped my elbow and brought me to my feet.

  “Untie Myrna, Hepsy, and take her to the old stable master’s quarters. Tend to her wounds. I’ll discuss this with you later. Goddesses’ sakes, she’s your sister.”

  “Aphra, please. If you’ll let me explain,” Phineas whined.

  “I can’t even look at you right now,” she snapped. “Singen, I want you out of my house before luncheon tomorrow. You are no longer welcome here.”

  The two men looked at her dully for a moment. Aphra stamped a booted foot and, in a dangerous tone, demanded, “Get out of my sight.”

  Phineas and Singen turned on their heels and fled into the darkness. My legs shook as I watched them go. Aphra took my chin in her hand and gently turned me to face her.

  “Let me see you,” she said. “You’re new. What is your name?”

  My eyes widened, and it took every grain of self-control I possessed to keep from screeching when I saw her full face. Her right eye was grassy green, while her left was violet. The skin on her right was peppered with freckles, like mine, and on her left, it was clear and pale. Her hair was parted in the middle, the right side a bright, fiery red; the left, pale gold. She looked like two separate halves of two distinct people had been stuck together.

  Seeing my expression, Aphra gave me a wry smile. “Don’t worry. You can look. Phineas thinks I’m far more sensitive about it than I actually am. Will you tell me your name?”

  “Vi, ma’am,” I whispered. “Obedience Violette Abernathy.”

  “Obedience? Was that wishful thinking on your mother’s part, or is your twin’s name something like Piety?”

  I returned her smile. Her forthright kindness set me at ease. “My twin was called Prudence. Ma called the others Patience, Remembrance, Amity, Clarity—you get the idea.”

  Her smile disappeared. “Was? Oh, I see now. You’re one of the diminished. Where’s Phineas been keeping you?”

  I didn’t correct her. My anger at Bo still smoldered beneath my skin, but there was something else there, buried deep—loyalty. Irritating, illogical love. He’d said it was important to keep quiet about our being twins, and I’d do it—at least until I got the explanation I was owed.

  “In the barn, ma’am. In the old stable master’s quarters.”

  “Shall we go inside then, and have a chat? It’s too late to wake someone for a cup of tea, but I know where Torsha kept a bottle of tafia stashed.”

  I bit my lip. “Ma’am, I...” I stuttered, trying to find the right words.

  “I won’t let Phineas do anything to you. Let me guess. You were supposed to be a present for me. For my birthday.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, then, we should get to know one another. Come in out of the heat. I’m being eaten alive, and I think we could all use a drink.”

  * * *

  We found Hepsy in my washroom with Myrna. Myrna held a bottle of tafia in one hand and steadied herself against the counter with the other. The air was stuffy and hot, and the room smelled of alcohol, herbs and metal. Bloody rags littered the floor, and Hepsy’s attention was focused on the stripes crossing Myrna’s back.

  Seeing my concerned face in the mirror, Myrna bared her teeth at me in a semblance of a smile. “Don’t worry, Vi. It’s just a few stripes. Soon they’ll be scars, and all the men’ll be swooning.”

  Aphra coughed behind me, and the young women both paled.

  “Excuse my sister, ma’am,” Hepsy said, snatching the bottle away from Myrna, who’d just taken a pull. “She’s had a li
ttle too much to drink.”

  Aphra came into the room holding another bottle, which she offered to Myrna as she perched on the edge of the tub.

  “Don’t be absurd. After a beating like that, I’d want to numb myself, too. I feel I owe you an apology,” Aphra said, her face full of regrets. “I had no idea that he’d gotten this bad again so quickly. After Singen’s visit last month, well...” She pursed her lips. “He’s usually so much more reasonable. I know I can’t take back blows already dealt, but we’ll see if I can’t make things a bit better.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Myrna said softly.

  “Hepsy,” Aphra said, “may I speak to you outside? Vi, if you’d finish tending to Myrna’s wounds and see her settled, I would greatly appreciate it.”

  Hepsy rose and followed Aphra out of the room in silence. When Myra’s wounds were cleaned and bandaged, I gave her one of the soft nightshirts out of my trunk. It didn’t take much to convince her to spend the night in my big, pillowy bed rather than the hammock she used in the upstairs loft. Though it was late, I wasn’t the least bit tired anymore. Not after what I’d seen. Myrna would certainly make better use of my bed than I could that night.

  I settled on the couch in the front room and pulled Mal’s note from the drawer in the side table. I’d already unfolded and refolded it so many times that the creases were worn, but the scratchy handwriting and familiar words comforted me.

  I jumped when the door creaked open. Aphra emerged from the mudroom, her expression grim. “It’s just me,” she said. “Is Myrna still awake?”

  I shook my head.

  “Good. I wanted to have a word alone with you.” She went to the cabinet and retrieved two glasses. She handed one to me and picked up the bottle of tafia from the table where I’d left it. “Care for a drink?” Aphra asked.

  “No, thank you. I don’t have the taste for it.”

  “Nor do I, usually, but after a night like tonight...” She trailed off. “So. Vi. Tell me how it is that you came to be here.”

  As I told her the story, she nodded and took sips from the bottle of tafia. When I finished, I tucked my hands under my legs and bit my lip, waiting for her to respond.

  She looked at me thoughtfully for a few moments and finally asked, “How much is he paying you?”

  “Eight hundred ovstri a year, less the Whipplestons’ commission.”

  Aphra paled. “Please tell me I misheard you. Eight hundred?”

  I nodded.

  “That bloody fool.” She sighed. “His need to be seen as powerful and fearless is infuriating. It’s the only reason he married me—to show me off, and show others how much power he has. Everything he does is about power. How little he thinks he has. How out of control he feels. He wants to be brave, but he’s nothing more than a worm.”

  “Brave?” I asked. It was better than the real question that was spinning around and around in my head. The question I knew I couldn’t ask.

  Aphra arched her red-gold eyebrows at me. “You can ask, you know. One of the two people in my marriage is scared of it, but it’s not me.”

  I looked away, and she laughed. It was a bitter sound.

  “You want to know what I am.”

  I pursed my lips, not meeting her different-colored eyes. I didn’t really need to ask. I knew. She was a fearsome story come to life. She was powerful, dangerous, two-faced. She was an amalgam. She was magic.

  Amalgam were the stuff of nightmarish stories told to children to make them behave. Some stories said they were oracles, while others claimed they could control the minds of those around them and use that power to destroy whole nations. I’d even heard that they were the ones who’d split the moon and nearly wiped out our ancestors. The anchorites insisted that they’d been eradicated by years of worship and toil on the part of the faithful.

  “We’re called amalgam, people like me,” Aphra said, echoing my thoughts. “But you would have grown up with the stories, of course. I imagine you know what it’s like, to exist in a world where everyone fears you.”

  Aphra gave me a wry smile and offered me the bottle of tafia once more. This time, I took a sip, letting the sweet, fire-bright alcohol slide down my throat and burn in my belly. I grimaced.

  “I do. But you...” I paused. “You must’ve felt so alone.”

  “Most times, when a child’s born with two different eyes, the Shriven come to get them and they disappear.”

  “I wish I could say I was surprised,” I said. “But I grew up in the temple. I know the kinds of horrors the Shriven commit at the bidding of the Suzerain.”

  “I suppose I could call myself lucky,” Aphra said thoughtfully. “Lucky that my parents were wealthy. That they cared enough to save me from the Shriven.” She looked out the window, staring at the broken pieces of the moon. “My mother and father hid me long enough to sell their businesses and estates in Alskad, then booked us passage here. They gave up everything to protect me.

  “Mother died in childbirth when I was still quite young. My siblings, twin girls, went with her, and it was just Father and me until I was nineteen. When he passed, I was left without protection from the temple. For years, Father had bought their silence with extraordinary tithes and gifts to the anchorites here in Ilor. But when I tried to send the tithes on my own, the anchorites came calling. That was when the threats started. Unsigned letters, underhanded implications from the anchorites, from people I’d once called friends. I knew it was a matter of time before the Shriven showed up.”

  My jaw tensed, and I couldn’t help but picture the tattooed, white-clad Shriven hauling Aphra off her horse and away from her home. She was right—one person alone could disappear without much effort on the part of the Shriven. A body needed at least one other person—if not a whole community—to keep them safe.

  “Phineas started coming around at just the right time, and when he made it clear that he wanted a marriage, I was at my wits’ end,” Aphra said. “With his family and connections, I knew he could keep the Shriven at bay.” Shaking her head, she took another swig from the bottle of tafia. “I wish I’d known then that he’s the real monster in this marriage. He was so charming, so tender with me as I grieved for my father, and the moment we were married, the anchorites stopped visiting, stopped threatening me.”

  Though she wore no visible bruises, it wasn’t hard to see that she’d not escaped her marriage unmarred. As we continued to pass the bottle back and forth, Aphra told me more about her life. Her parents had left her a great deal of money and land, which lent weight to the strange, dangerous appeal that drew Phineas to her like a fly to honey. Plumleen Hall belonged to Phineas’s family, but he’d bungled the management of the estate so badly that he was near about destitute by the time Aphra agreed to marry him. Her money and management had pulled the estate back toward its past glory.

  As the moon’s halves sank below the horizon, Aphra fixed me in her startling, mismatched gaze. “You, my dear, have managed to go an entire night without asking me a single question about what it means to be an amalgam. Not many people last more than five minutes without asking me if I can read minds or do magic or see the future.”

  I looked down, blushing. There were so many things I wanted to ask, but those questions, each and every one, boiled down to rumors and myths that had sprung out of fear. The person sitting in front of me was just that—a person. And one who’d trusted me with her story. My curiosity hardly mattered in the face of everything Aphra had faced in her life.

  * * *

  I woke at midmorning, disoriented from the few hours of sleep I’d had on the couch. It had been nearly dawn when Aphra left my rooms, and my mind still reeled from the glut of information she’d shared. I eased myself off the couch, joints crackling. Just outside my door, I found a basket and a pitcher of tea.

  I unpacked the basket. Inside, there were thick slices of sweet nut bread and a
covered bowl of fruit for breakfast, a jar of salve and an envelope with a note from Aphra.

  Vi,

  Phineas has agreed to go on as though nothing has happened. He will present you to me at the party. In the meantime, see if you can’t pick Myrna’s mind about the inner workings of the estate. She might be able to see that you don’t find yourself in a situation similar to last night’s again.

  —A

  When Myrna emerged from the bedroom, her eyes still bleary with sleep, I poured her a tall glass of tea and slid the note across the table for her to read. The puppies and their mother came tumbling out of the bedroom behind her, all wagging tails and joyful yips. It was as though the night before had never happened, at least not for them.

  “How do you feel?” I asked, and winced, knowing the answer couldn’t be anything good.

  Myrna scanned the note and snorted. “Like I got the skin whipped off my back last night. Just wonderful.” Then her eyes softened. “Thank you for giving up your bed last night. My hammock would have been right awful.”

  “Stay as long as you’d like. Please. It’s my fault you got those stripes.”

  “Hogwash,” Myrna said. She crammed a whole slice of nut bread into her mouth. Mouth full, she said, “Singen and Phineas are the only ones who can shoulder the blame. You hear?” She poked me. “Get it? Shoulder?”

  I groaned. “That’s not even a joke.”

  “What did Aphra tell you last night?”

  “She told me what she is and explained to me about her and Phineas. She said he wasn’t so bad when they got married.” I tried to work myself up to asking what Aphra meant in her note. After what I’d seen the night before, I was even more determined to see that Phineas never hurt anyone again. But to do that before Bo went about executing some half-cocked scheme to get me free of my contract, I’d need help. I’d need someone to rely on.