by Lizzy Ford
But two months was a long time to try to ignore her persistent instincts and what was before her eyes. Two months was a long time to fight the urge to help brighten Tiana’s day or worse, help her find out more information about the one topic that made her face glow.
“Promise me you will not run away without telling me,” Aveline said at last.
“You will help me?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. I don’t want to leave the city. But I’ll make sure you aren’t dead by the time you reach the main floor.”
“Very well. I will not.” Tiana sounded disappointed.
“Why would anyone want you dead?” Aveline asked with some frustration.
“My father cannot risk exposing my deformity, or it will cost our family our position and lives.”
“And Matilda?”
Tiana shrugged. “Perhaps she knows my father wishes it?”
“Anyone else?”
“I do not know anyone else, aside from Arthur, who hired you to protect me.”
“Who kills you? In these dreams?” Aveline ventured.
“Someone I have never seen before.”
Aveline almost sighed and then sat back on her heels, agitated. Who else had been hired to assassinate Tiana? How deep did this conspiracy to murder the Hanover girl run? If Aveline failed in her secondary duty, she would never become an assassin. Who, then, was her competition?
“Tell me everything you’ve seen in your dreams about your death,” she directed Tiana.
Tiana started to comply when they both heard her door swing open and smack the wall behind it, announcing Matilda’s entrance.
“No. Tea.” Aveline mouthed to Tiana.
The Hanover girl nodded, but Aveline doubted Tiana would disobey Matilda if she were ordered to drink poison. Tiana’s backbone was severely lacking, and her sincere belief that she deserved to be mistreated was going to make Aveline’s job protecting her even harder.
Tiana exited the closet first, eyes on the floor, as she assumed her normal position seated on the bed.
Aveline trailed her.
Matilda was at the drawer where she kept her drugs. She lifted one of the vials to the light of the window with a frown.
“Slave,” she snapped, turning to Aveline.
Aveline ducked her head quickly. She neither smelled nor saw any cups of tea.
Matilda’s eyes narrowed when she saw Tiana, the only sign she was surprised to find the girl perfectly well.
“You. I need my medications from the apothecary, and my useless personal slave cannot be found,” Matilda said to Aveline. She held out a purple pouch. “This contains money and a list. I have counted the ounces in this purse. If you return with anything less than two ounces, I will have you burnt for theft. Do you understand?”
Aveline nodded.
“The apothecary is located at the border of the outer and inner city, on the east side of the fish market. Place this in your hair, and he will know to approach you.” Matilda held out a bright purple feather.
Aveline accepted both purse and feather. The fish market was a landmark for those in both areas of the city because of its smell. The area Matilda described, however, was not reputable in the least, which supported Aveline’s assumption the medications Matilda sought were illicit drugs banned in the outer city by her own husband.
Her plan to wait until Matilda was gone before vacating was quickly thwarted.
“Go. Now,” Matilda ordered.
Aveline left reluctantly. She calculated the distance and time and realized she would have to run at least one way in order to return before dusk, when Tiana was likely to be in more danger. Although, she was always in danger with someone like Matilda in the adjacent room.
Unwilling to leave Tiana alone for too long, or at all with Matilda present, Aveline walked out of the room and down the hallway. She hid around a corner and waited several minutes, until she heard Tiana’s door slam closed once more.
She peered down the hallway to confirm Matilda was returning to her chambers. Aveline pushed away from the wall and raced through the apartment towards the elevator.
Her first excursion outside in a week was far more invigorating than she expected. She ran with newfound appreciation for the ability to stretch her legs and the harsh winter wind. Even the overwhelming scent of the fish markets was unable to dampen her joy at being free of Tiana’s stuffy room. As she hurried to find Matilda’s drug dealer, Aveline began to form a backup plan. She always carried a knife or two with her, in case the apothecary needed encouragement to do as she asked.
The fish markets were at the center of the city’s two major sides, patrolled by Shield members, and divided in half by a wide road. Aveline slowed when she crossed the bridge leading between the outer and inner cities. She continued to the east side of the fish market, ignoring the curious looks she received from those she passed. She picked up at least two hopeful pickpockets. Mindful of them, she expertly observed those she passed to pick up any threats or attempts to coordinate robbing her. The green sash had little meaning to the residents of the inner city, but the fact she was a privileged slave in clean clothing with nice boots would be noticed by the hawks of the streets.
Aveline tucked the feather behind her ear when she reached the eastern part of the fish markets and began to weave deliberately through the crowds. Five minutes passed, ten, twenty. Three pickpockets approached her, one around the age of eight and two much older, closer to her age. She rebuffed all of them and remained wary for the next attempt, because, in the inner city, there was always someone else waiting to pounce.
Impatient to be back by dusk, she shifted the feather so it was more visible and began to widen her route pacing back and forth along the eastern edge. Several native merchants displayed their handmade wares on blankets beside a building at the edge of the fish market. Her gaze lingered on the goods often before she decided to take a closer look.
Aveline paused with her back to the dwelling beside the natives’ display. Baskets and leather and wooden goods were displayed by two elderly native women, each of whom possessed silver hair that reached their ankles and leathery, wrinkled features.
Catching sight of her, one of them nudged the other, and they both watched Aveline. Neither spoke, but their long looks caused her to lift her eyes from the goods to the women.
“Mixed,” one of the natives said.
Aveline pursed her lips.
“Was your mother or father native?” the other asked.
“Mother,” she said in a clipped tone.
“And you are a slave?”
She did not respond, not wanting to invite further questions from strangers about her position with the Hanover’s.
“Do you know your tribe?”
“No,” she said.
One of them clucked in disapproval, and Aveline crouched beside a handmade leather good she recognized. “Dream catcher?” she asked and picked up one of the five displayed.
“It is,” one of the native women replied.
“Do they work? Will they stop … nightmares?” She did not know what else to call Tiana’s visions.
One of the women picked up a dream catcher and handed it to her. “This one will.”
Aveline studied it. Black leather, beads, feathers and sinew webbing, all of which appeared to be high quality.
“Do you remember your mother’s name?”
Aveline glanced up. “Walks with a Limp,” she answered.
“Her tribe,” the other pressed.
“I don’t know,” Aveline answered. “She was a slave brought to the city twenty years ago. My father fell in love with her and purchased her. She died giving birth to me. How much?” She motioned to the dream catcher.
“Quarter ounce,” one of them answered.
“Quarter ounce?” Aveline replied. “That’s two days worth of food!”
One of the women leaned forward and gripped the silk sash, rubbing the silk between her fingers. “Will you trade this?”
Aveline fingered the sash for a moment. Tiana had embroidered the flowers and eagle for her.
All the more reason to trade it, she thought, recalling her dual purpose in being with Tiana.
“Take it.” Aveline lifted it over her head and handed it to one of the women. “Thanks.” She rose and walked away, tucking the dream catcher into her pocket as she began to pace the edge of the fish market again.
Just when she began to think Matilda had been trying to expel her from Tiana’s room for some nefarious reason, Aveline sensed someone approach. She turned and saw a slender, tall man making a line straight for her.
“Come with me,” he said, breezing by her.
Aveline obeyed and followed him through the throngs of people at the market towards a quieter street lined with shanties that appeared to be propping each other up. He entered one that smelled so heavily of pungent herbs and chemicals, she almost gagged. She left the door open in an attempt to circulate the air while the apothecary went to his desk. Along both walls were various glasses containers, pots and other supplies. Drying herbs hung from every inch of the exposed ceiling rafters.
“What did she ask for this time?” the man asked and withdrew a box of empty glass vials from beneath his desk.
Aveline handed him the list and watched him read it.
“Tell your mistress arsenic is hard to come by,” he complained.
Bitch, Aveline thought to herself. “What else does she want?”
“Her usual. Two ounces of Devil Powder and three of Old World Death,” he replied.
“One to push her up, the other to bring her down,” Aveline murmured. She opened the pouch again, this time observing the amount of money Matilda had given her. “She pays below price.”
“In exchange for recommending me to her friends,” the dealer replied. He leaned down and pulled a dark colored glass bottle from another box. He began to pour the pure, white powder inside into vials.
“Do you have Ghoul’s Fancy?” Aveline asked.
The dealer stopped and looked up. “You aren’t the slave she normally sends,” he said.
“No, I’m not. Now, do you have Ghoul’s Fancy?”
“I do,” he confirmed. “For her or for you?”
“Mix it in with the Old World Death. Replace the arsenic with sugar.”
When he did not move, Aveline withdrew one of the weapons she had brought. She met his gaze, her own cold, hard. “My father was the Devil. He trained me to use dozens of weapons and to kill in more ways than you have ounces of medicines in this shack.”
Her words had the affect she wished. The dealer sat back, listening.
“You can do as I say, and survive, or you can disobey me, and I’ll mix it myself after I slit your throat,” she finished.
After a minute, he began to laugh. “The Devil’s daughter? Here?” He shook his head. “If your mistress refuses to pay for what she –”
Before his sentence was complete, Aveline had plunged one dagger into his hand, pinning it to the table, and held a second to his throat.
The dealer gave a cry of pain. His eyes widened. “You … you cannot threaten me! I have powerful clients who –”
“- who won’t know what happened because you’ll be too dead to tell them!” She twisted the knife in his hand.
He grimaced.
“Do as I say.” Aveline lowered the knife from his throat without removing the one in his hand. She stepped back and waited warily.
His good hand trembling, the dealer sloppily filled vials halfway with one powder then half with another before shaking them. He sealed five vials with corks before withdrawing a sixth and filling it with sugar from the jar on his table.
“Good man,” Aveline said. She released the knife. “That blade is steel. It’s worth more than the medicines.” Collecting the vials, she tossed him one of the ten ounces Matilda had given her for the medications then whirled and left.
Expecting him to raise the alarm with others of his ilk, Aveline left his shanty and broke into a hard run as she tore through the fish markets and back towards the structure where she now lived. Thrilled by the workout and brief escape, she could not help smiling when she reached the great pyramid. Before returning to Tiana’s room, she ducked into a quiet hallway in the basement and opened the pouch. Claiming seven of the ounces, she hid them in a pocket before double checking the vial supposed to contain arsenic. It was indeed sugar; Tiana’s teas would grow sweeter without killing her.
Pleased with herself, Aveline grabbed dinner from the kitchens and returned to the top floor and strode through the apartment, just as dusk began to darken the sky. She quickly deposited food on the table near the window in Tiana’s room before going to Matilda’s door and knocking on it.
A flustered slave answered. Her eyes and nose were puffy and red, and her cheek blazing crimson as well. By the wrinkled sash, someone had grabbed her, and by her limp, Aveline assessed the slave had been thrown down at an angle that hurt her.
Anger flared within her, but she forced herself to remain silent. Aveline handed the slave all six vials as well as the purse with two ounces remaining. The slave said nothing but claimed everything and closed the door.
Aveline stared at the ornate mahogany wood inches from her face, recalling the emotion she had experienced when the two girls at the brothel had been sentenced to the butcher.
Those in the city forced to suffer deserved better than to be controlled by people like the Hanover’s and Matilda. It was the fault of the city leadership that the inner city was unable to feed its residents and children were eaten instead. It was also Tiana’s father who allowed a woman like Matilda to abuse her slaves and Tiana, and who kept his own daughter living in poverty.
Aveline returned to Tiana’s room, her upbeat mood ruined. Tiana was standing beside the table, holding her plate of food as she gazed out over the city. She had divided up the portion so each had half, and Aveline took her plate and sat on the ground.
“I cannot wait to see the sunset in spring!” Tiana said.
Aveline did not respond. She ate the venison, unable to taste meat for the first time without wondering how many innocent children she had inadvertently eaten.
“Did you go far?” Tiana asked her. “Did you see anything wonderful?”
“The city needs to be burnt to the ground. There’s nothing wonderful about it, anywhere, at all,” Aveline snapped.
Tiana turned away from the window. “Are you bleeding?”
Aveline glanced down. Some of the apothecary’s blood had splattered her clothing.
“No,” she answered.
“Where is your sash?” Tiana asked, dismayed. “Did someone take it from you?”
“No,” Aveline replied. “I traded my sash for this.” She shifted to pull the dream catcher out of her pocket and tossed it to Tiana. “It’s supposed to help with your nightmares.”
“It is beyond beautiful!”
Aveline rolled her eyes at her ward’s too chipper exclamation.
“How does it work?”
“When bad dreams come, they get stuck in the web,” Aveline explained. “My father taught me about these. My mother was a native, and my father did not want me to grow up without understanding who she was. I slept with one of these above my bed.”
“You never speak of your family.” Tiana sat down before her. “Are your parents alive?”
“No.” Aveline bit off the word, hoping, for once, the Hanover girl took a hint and stopped talking. Tiana, of course, was oblivious to most social cues, since she rarely spoke to anyone.
“I am sorry to hear that,” she said. “Was your mother beautiful like you?”
Aveline’s eyebrows lifted. “Beautiful?”
Tiana nodded. Her gaze was on the ground. “Your hair is so long and shiny, and your bones do not protrude like mine. Your eyes are normal, the same color as the night. Your face is shaped like a flower.”
“A flower?” Aveline’s agitation softened. She fel
t her cheeks self-consciously. “My father said she was the most beautiful woman in the city.”
“Then you do look like her.”
“You are some sort of mad,” Aveline said, unable to stop her smile. “I am not beautiful. You are.”
“I am deformed.” Tiana frowned.
“You’re not deformed. If you had a mirror, you would know this.”
“My father banned mirrors when I was four.”
Aveline set her plate of food down and reached to the armoire drawer where she kept her few belongings. She pulled the assassin tool kit out and rummaged through it. Assassins used light reflecting off mirrors to coordinate attacks when more than one assassin had been hired for a job.
She retrieved the round mirror and pulled it free from its leather case. It was the size of her palm, large enough for Tiana to see her reflection.
Aveline handed it to Tiana, who took it slowly. Her gaze was instantly riveted to the reflection, and the Hanover girl stared, her breathing shallow and her body tensing.
“You see?” Aveline asked.
Tiana did not answer.
Aveline returned the satchel to its drawer, and her gaze fell to the envelope her father had entrusted to her, which she dared not open. Her fingertips grazed it, and she recalled too clearly how he had looked the last time she sat before him. Shaking her head to clear the vision, she sat back down to find Tiana had not moved an inch.
“Well?” Aveline prodded.
Tiana blinked. She was pale, and her eyes filled with tears. “It is so much worse than I thought.” The words were choked, and she lowered the mirror. “No wonder everyone who lays eyes on me wishes me dead.”
“What? No, Tiana, your eyes are –”
“I should have been burnt at the stake!” Tiana hopped to her feet and dashed to the closet.
Before Aveline could react, she heard the closet door lock and the sound of Tiana sobbing.
Aveline retrieved the mirror and dream catcher from the floor and released a long, controlled sigh. Dealing with Tiana gave her a headache, not because Tiana was mad, but because Aveline had to remind herself frequently to be gentle towards the skittish girl. If she were dealing with anyone else, she would drag her ward out of the closet and give her a stern lecture about her childish behavior and how her tantrums would hinder her survival in the world outside the city.