Light in the Darkness

by CJ Brightley

  No tonna berry preserves for the whole cold season . . . ugh. I shuddered at the thought. Tonna berries were an early crop, so we’d already harvested most of what we’d get for the year. By harvest season, the tonna bushes would have already started going into hibernation. “I agree with Father on that,” I said fervently. “I volunteer to harvest tartberries all morning.”

  Mother started laughing. “We can’t very well not have any tonna berries, given that’s what we’re known for,” she said. “But I’ll see to it that not too many of those go out. And if they do, I’ll inform Yaika that she will be growing tonna berries in her garden next year. That should keep her from trying to ‘accidentally’ improve the refreshments.”

  I grinned gleefully.

  “It’s just too bad the Ruler won’t let us use her magicians to prepare for the party,” Father muttered, tugging a crease out of his shirt.

  “Wait, what?” I asked. I’d just sort of assumed they’d be helping. I mean, that was what magicians were for. “Why won’t she?”

  Father made a face. “Because their magic is hers, and it has to be kept in reserve in case she needs to return to Central immediately. Apparently.”

  Oh, I thought. Well, I guess that makes sense . . .

  “I suspect it’s more than that,” Mother said. “She probably isn’t unaware of the danger of having left Central with both her husband and her first heir. The magicians might also be guards in case of danger. Not that she’d admit that.”

  I stared at Mother, startled. I would never have thought of that.

  “Or healers,” Father said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin, which had a slight hint of tomorrow morning’s stubble. “In case of disease, or even minor things like food poisoning. I see your point.”

  “But nobody would go against the Ruler,” I protested. “What purpose would guards serve?”

  Mother chuckled.

  “I’m glad you feel that way,” Father said, smiling wryly.

  “You mean some people would?” I gaped, appalled. Who in their right mind would beg for a death sentence that way?

  “Revenge for a family member who had been executed for criminal activity,” Father said. “Resentment over something the law forbids. Wanting attention. Just plain insanity. There could be lots of reasons for an isolated criminal to do mischief.”

  I shivered, rubbing my arms under my thin torron nightgown. Now I felt unsafe.

  “Don’t worry,” Mother said. “It seems very unlikely. Especially since we don’t know of anyone who’s been executed for a crime in the whole time we’ve lived here.”

  We don’t know all the vassals, I thought. And if I were a landowner, I wouldn’t go around telling anybody that one of my vassals had forced a woman, or a murder had occurred, or one of my mathematicians had defrauded people. It would be unpleasant and embarrassing to deal with. So how would we know if somebody had been sentenced to death in this neighborhood while we lived here?

  So what if there was some vengeful stranger who was planning to show up at the party? What if we’d all be in danger? What if they were lurking in the shadows right now? I gulped, inching closer to my parents. Outside in the darkness no longer seemed like a good time for privacy at all.

  “Would you still like to use the latrine?” Mother asked, moving away from the door to the makeshift building that was moved whenever we dug a new hole. Apparently she had misinterpreted my moving closer. “We can leave you to it.”

  “N-no!” I lied. “I don’t need anything right now. I’m fine. Let’s go inside together.”

  I can get rid of my magic tomorrow morning, I thought, whipping my head around to look at every shadow as we walked to the kitchen door. When it’s not so scary and there’s sunlight.

  Of course, in the morning, there were people everywhere, including in my garden.

  “What are our vassals doing in my garden?” I cried, running inside. The door slammed into the wall behind me, and I didn’t even try to close it. I nearly ran straight into Lala, who was carrying a tray of fresh fruit back to her room. She glared at me.

  “They’re cutting inna blossoms,” Mother announced, sweeping over from the sitting room. It had, I noticed, already been stripped of furniture, and it looked like she had been removing the wall hangings. “You’re the only one that grows them. Next up will be your adlies.”

  “But — but —” I stammered. “But it’s my garden!”

  “We’re all contributing something,” Mother said. “Your father and I have bared gardens of everything decorative. Don’t worry, I told them not to touch your filias.”

  I scowled. Like that was my primary worry.

  “Too bad Hurik hasn’t taken the oath of status yet, eh?” Grandmother said, wandering from the kitchen with a ladle in hand. She held her other hand underneath it to catch dripping. “If he’d had his coming-out party, he’d probably be growing flowers to ask girls to social events already.”

  “Those would have gone over better than the insects he used to try to give girls he liked,” Mother said, pulling out the pins from another wall-hanging.

  Grandmother chuckled. She held out the ladle to me. “Well, Raneh? Would you taste this and tell me what you think?”

  “I . . . uh . . .” I really needed to get rid of my magic, but there was no way I’d find enough privacy outside for that right now. “Okay,” I said slowly.

  I followed her back to the kitchen, where she rustled through a drawer to find a fresh wood spoon, and scraped sauce off the ladle carefully. Then she held it out to me. “What do you think? Too sweet?”

  I took the spoon and licked it, distracted. Then sourness stabbed my tongue. “Blech!” I cried, flinging the spoon onto a stack of dishes on the corner of one counter. “What are you making?”

  “Tartberry fillings for the pastries,” Grandmother said. “I don’t think they were ripe enough, though.”

  “Sourrrrrr . . .” I said, shuddering.

  “And I told you not to make pastries,” Mother said from the kitchen doorway, hands on her hips. “We have way too little time before this party begins. Just make preserves and jam and be done with it.”

  “Do you think I’m going to let my granddaughter’s coming-out party be poorly refreshed?” Grandmother asked indignantly. “You prepare your way, I’ll prepare mine.”

  “We’ll need you to explain propriety to the vassals that come!”

  Grandmother sniffed. “And I can do that in between making new batches of these.”

  “Just offer them some of that tartberry filling,” I said. “It’ll frighten them away.”

  Grandmother gave me an amused look and reached for one of the large glass jars on the counter near her. She twisted the lid off and poured the entire contents of its sticky goo into the gigantic pot over the fireplace. The liquid bubbled blubs of yellow-orange mush the color of not-quite-ripe-enough tartberries. She used a large wooden paddle to stir it.

  “There will be enough sweetsap left to last us through cold season, won’t there?” I asked, eyeing the jars. “That isn’t all we have left, is it?”

  “We didn’t sell all of our surplus last year,” Grandmother said. “We have plenty more in the root cellars, don’t worry.”

  “Raneh,” Mother said. “What can you do to make yourself useful?”

  Uh oh. Mother had that glint in her eye. If I didn’t come up with something, she would volunteer me for a duty that no one else wanted to do.

  “Uh . . .” I glanced through the kitchen door. The downstairs couldn’t be decorated until Lala had enlarged it for the party, and there were already people cutting flowers in my garden. The tartberries had already been gathered, too. “I could take breakfast to the Ruler?” I said hopefully.

  “Hmm . . .” Mother said, her eyes narrowing. “Yes, I suppose that would be a good idea. She’ll probably be waking up soon.”

  “Here,” Grandmother said, gesturing with her free hand at the counter on my opposite side. “Fresh fruit. The vassals wh
o picked the tartberries for me this morning also plucked some other early fruit they found on the way. You can prepare a platter from these.”

  My mouth watered as I rummaged through the basket, plucking out a dark purple, warty avrom, and . . . ooh! Fresh limbas! I loved those, with their crisp, smooth flavor and the delicate pink skins that were slightly sweet. They were impossible to store because their texture went all grainy when dried, and they lost most of their flavor when you cooked them. So we really only had those during harvest season. I grabbed several and rubbed a speck of dirt off one with the hem of my skirt. I hadn’t had breakfast yet.

  “Save the best fruits for the Ruler,” Grandmother said with her back turned, as if she could see me. “Feed yourself after you come down again.”

  Drat. I replaced the limbas reluctantly.

  “Yaika!” Mother called up the stairs. “Time to get up! Somebody needs to dig the new latrines for all our guests that will be arriving!”

  Wow, I thought, scrubbing an orange fuzzfruit in a bowl of water and then slicing carefully to remove the insect-pocked spots. Narrow escape.

  “You might want to prepare some for the heirs, too,” Grandmother said, glancing over her shoulder to see me arranging fuzzfruit slices with a perfectly-shaped avrom and a small handful of unshelled greennuts. “At least bring up two platefuls, since her husband will want some, too.”

  “Right,” I said, reaching up into the cupboard for another small platter. The Ruler’s husband. My heart lurched to think about it. For some reason, he intimidated me even more than the Ruler. Perhaps it was because he had yet to say a word or show any emotions, and I had no clue what would please him or displease him. Last night, the most reaction he had shown to anything was to pass over one of Grandmother’s proffered dinner dishes with a sniff of distaste. I was terrified of offending him. He had almost as much influence as the Ruler, and he seemed far more difficult to please.

  “Why do I have to dig the latrines?” Yaika wailed, storming down the stairs. She was wearing one of her dyeing shifts, an old dress that was covered in patches and mismatched splotches. The stockings she wore had several runs, and her hair tumbled behind her in an unbrushed mess. Apparently she’d forgotten to pull it up again, even though she should have started after her oath ceremony. “It’s my coming-out party!”

  “And if you’d given us more warning, perhaps we would have had time to dig them before this morning,” Mother said unsympathetically, stomping down the stairs after her.

  Well, that’ll wake the Ruler, I thought, scooping up the two plates I had made. I hoped the Ruler liked squishfruits, and I hoped the Ruler’s husband didn’t hate them.

  Yaika stormed through the kitchen, flung open the door, and slammed it on her way outside. She didn’t even look at Grandmother or me. I thought about the Ruler waking up to hear the argument on the stairs and bit back a laugh at the thought of her looking out the window of Mother and Father’s bedroom to see Yaika outside digging latrines.

  Carefully, I backed my way out of the kitchen doorway as Mother walked in. She glanced at the plates. “Not quite enough selection,” she said. “Here. Add these.” She reached into the basket and pulled out two altons and all four of the limbas.

  Nooooooooo! I thought silently.

  She plopped them on the plates without asking me, then headed out the kitchen door after Yaika. Outside, I heard my sister complaining loudly that our vassals ought to do the unpleasant work. Mother’s retort was muffled, but sounded sarcastic.

  Grandmother glanced over her shoulder, and I gave her a woebegone look.

  “There will be more later,” she said. “Do as your mother says.”

  Miserably, I trudged up the stairs. Maybe the Ruler would hate limbas fruit, and I could still get away with eating them.

  The Ruler and her husband had taken possession of my parents’ bedroom last night, leaving my parents to sleep on the floor of Grandfather and Grandmother’s room. It was galling that the Ruler and her husband had just assumed the biggest room in the house was theirs. But what could you do? We certainly couldn’t deny it to them.

  At least we’d had three spare bedrooms, or I shuddered to think what would have happened. Probably I’d have ended up sleeping on the floor of Yaika’s room. As it was, we’d spent hours moving spare furniture out of them, including broken tables and chairs and two baby cribs. Hurik would be less than pleased when he discovered we had loaded all of those into his bedroom.

  The heirs hadn’t been particularly thankful, either. Caes had bobbed his head, Jinny had gone into her room without a word, and Alyss had complained about hers being disused and dusty. I was not looking forward to seeing them again this morning.

  Gingerly, I pushed open the door to my parents’ bedroom. “Ruler?” I asked tentatively, poking my head in through the doorway. “Are you awake?”

  The Ruler stirred. She sat up in one movement, waves of wormthread cascading down her arms and sliding down next to her husband. She had, of course, provided her own bedsheets.

  “Good morning,” the Ruler said. “Are you Yaika’s sister?”

  You could try remembering my name, I thought. “Yes, Ruler,” I said. “I’m Raneh. I brought breakfast.”

  “How thoughtful,” the Ruler said, smiling.

  I hurried over to where she sat on my father’s side of the bed, holding out the two plates. The Ruler reached for the one in my right hand, set it down on my father’s bedside table, and plucked a limbas fruit off the top. I watched disconsolately as she bit into it.

  “Leave the other plate by Lancen’s side of the bed,” the Ruler ordered, nodding in the direction of her sleeping husband. “He never wakes up while people are watching.”

  Odd, I thought.

  I tiptoed over to the other side and deposited the plate on Mother’s bedside table. Then, in a fit of klutziness, I stumbled and smacked my elbow against the wall.

  “Yeouch!” I shouted, grabbing my elbow. “Ow ow ow ow . . .”

  Oops. I came to myself, realizing where I was. I gulped, spinning around to see how mad the Ruler had gotten. But she didn’t look upset. She looked amused. She was snapping greennuts out of their shells, popping them in her mouth as if I were some kind of entertainment.

  Then I glanced down at the Ruler’s husband. He hadn’t stirred. Not at all. I could tell because there still wasn’t a single crease in the sheet over top of him.

  Wait a minute. Not a single crease? Not one? After he’d supposedly been sleeping right there all night?

  He’s feigning sleep! my mind exploded. He woke up early just to make himself look perfect by the time anyone else came in here! Just how vain is he?!

  “Thank you, Raneh,” the Ruler said, giving me a smirk that said she knew exactly what I was thinking. “I’m sure my heirs would appreciate breakfast, as well.”

  “Uh . . . yes. Right. Of course.” I stumbled backwards and fumbled behind me to find the latch of the door.

  Out in the hallway, I leaned against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief. I’d survived an encounter with the Ruler. I would be fine. I could last a whole week.

  Then my fingers tingled, reminding me that I still had magic I hadn’t managed to get rid of.

  Assuming I can ever manage to get to my groverweed, I thought tensely.

  19

  “Please move out of the way,” Lala was saying as I headed downstairs. “Yes, you! And you! Get out! I need the downstairs empty before I can expand it!”

  I stopped at the landing at the bend of the stairs, watching our magician shoo vassals out of the way as they carried the last of our sitting and dining room furniture outside. I glanced over the stairway railing to make sure the kitchen door was already shut, which it was. Good. Grandmother would be safe. Then I settled down on the landing, sitting with my head in my hands.

  “Everyone out?” Lala shouted. “Everyone? Last warning! If there’s someone still in here who suddenly winds up disgustingly fat, I won’t be held responsib
le!”

  I giggled behind my hand. Using magic to expand space wouldn’t actually make someone fat, but it would make them both wider and taller. Also much more fragile. I’d never seen it happen, but I’d heard it was a very uncomfortable state to be in. I’d seen a man be temporarily compressed once to make his bones and muscles stronger, but the other magician there had huffily informed his apprentice that it was easier to just increase muscle strength instead, which was at least permanent. And even that generally wasn’t considered worth the magic expended to do it.

  I wasn’t sure why expanding or compressing space was temporary, while practically everything else was permanent. I’d asked Lala about that once years ago, and she’d snootily informed me that it was because space was insubstantial, so you couldn’t touch it like you could normal stuff. When I’d asked if that meant magic could affect other things that weren’t touchable, like thoughts or memories, she’d sniffily informed me that magicians hadn’t been able to do that for generations, and why did I want to know, anyway?

  Lala flicked a glance up over at me. I patted the stairs to assure her that I wouldn’t budge. She nodded. Then she closed her eyes and turned in a slow circle, arms outstretched.

  She murmured something, I wasn’t sure what, as the air around her rippled. Maybe it was part of the process. Maybe it was her way of concentrating. I didn’t know much about how magic worked; magicians didn’t share their secrets any more than mathematicians did. That was one of the reasons I’d never dared to try experimenting.

  The ripples exploded away from Lala, and the walls on each side of her ballooned outward. She spun, moving her arms to face the front wall and the wall right next to the stairs, and another ripple pulsed out of her. My stomach lurched as distance zoomed between us. Then I gasped and clutched my throat.

  Can’t breathe! I thought, flailing to get Lala’s attention.

  A whoosh came through the open windows, and I gasped in, just as Lala turned and noticed me. I panted, lowering my hands, feeling embarrassed. In my panic, I’d forgotten that that always happened right after a magician expanded space.