Between the Water and the Woods

by Simone Snaith

  “There’s an artillery shop on the south end,” Reese told him. He started forward and they followed at his heels like children.

  In no time at all, there were far too many people around them for comfort. Head spinning, Emeline grabbed on to Dada’s shirt while he held both Dale and Aladane by the shoulders in front of him.

  A voice cried out for everyone to “Clear the way,” and then a man with leather armbands rode by slowly on a steam-bicycle. People swore at him for taking up space.

  A handsome young man with long hair plowed into Emeline and apologized, then gawked unflatteringly at her country clothes; a passing woman frowned at her through a single, blue-tinted eyeglass on a chain. Emeline pulled up her hood, disconcerted.

  Two little boys ran pell-mell through the crowd with a woman wearing bells chasing after them. Then a group of young girls sporting parti-color stockings under asymmetrical skirts sauntered by, giggling.

  She was fascinated and alarmed all at once.

  Dada stopped abruptly at a cluttered little shop lined with books. People stood inside squinting at the shelves, some through colored spectacles. Above the entryway, a cloth banner with embroidered letters read: HALATINE’S. Underneath in smaller letters was added NO DOGS, NO FOOD.

  “Look at all those books,” Dada said happily, sounding like he’d forgotten all talk of magic. Emeline smiled up at him as he patted at his coat pockets. “I could read for a year. Now all I need is my pipe!”

  “Why don’t you stay here while I have a look at the gun shop?” Fish suggested.

  Dada hesitated and looked at Reese. “Is it wise for us to split up?”

  “You’ll be safe as long as you stay in the market,” Reese said, scanning the crowd.

  “Can we go with Fish?” Aladane asked. Fish frowned at that and Emeline didn’t blame him. No one wanted to keep an eye on two rowdy boys in an artillery shop.

  “No, you two stay with me,” Dada said. “We’ll go join him in a bit.” He pushed the boys ahead of him into the bookstore. “Emeline, stay with Sir Reese.”

  Reese raised his eyebrows at her. “Is there anything you want to see?”

  She shrugged. “Can we walk a bit? I want to see everything. We could follow Mister Fish.” She winced as two laughing girls pushed past her; one of them wore a pair of wire wings and both had straight hair.

  Everyone here had straight hair and no one wore bodices.

  “Walk right behind me,” Reese advised, starting off. On impulse, she reached out and gripped his shirt, like she had Dada’s. He didn’t seem to notice. She assumed that Fish was somewhere ahead of them, but she honestly had no idea.

  In the crowd, they passed a man playing a strange-looking stringed instrument and serenading passersby; Emeline wondered if he was perhaps a Keldare. A little black dog raced up to Reese, its leash trailing behind. It jumped up and whimpered and licked the knight’s hands, and Reese bent down and scruffed its thick fur all over. She peered around his side cautiously; she had only known one dog back in Equane and sometimes it bit. Spotting her, this one lunged and licked her right on the cheek.

  She squealed and heard Reese’s nice, deep laugh. It drew smiles from a few passing people. A man came rushing forward and pulled the dog away.

  Reese froze suddenly, his eyes fixed on two old men standing near a column. She understood why when she saw their blue Sapient robes.

  One was gesturing impatiently to the other, two liverymen waiting nearby as if expecting instructions. People gave them a wide berth as they passed.

  Reese sped ahead and Emeline followed, trying not to catch the Sapients’ attention. She kept her eyes on his broad back, but when she looked up again—she couldn’t help it—one of the Sapients was staring straight at her, his gaze as cold as a snake’s. She stumbled, clutching Reese’s shirt, and he moved faster, pulling her along.

  “—from the village family…?” she heard one of the Sapients say.

  “It must be. Look at her cloak.”

  “Keep an eye out….They’re—”

  The rest was lost in a jumble of voices. By the time she looked back over her shoulder, the Sapients were hidden by the crowd.

  Reese pushed forward into the market’s central gardens, hurrying her down a path lined with bushes of curly red flowers.

  “Those Sapients knew who we were,” she said, under her breath.

  “Of course they did. And I’m sure they’ve heard that we have quite a bit to say about Dark Creatures, and maybe an attempted murder,” Reese muttered.

  Emeline frowned at the bushes, fingering a spiraling petal. It felt strange to be whispered about by members of the king’s council. Worse than strange. Frightening.

  After a moment, she asked, “What kind of flowers are these?”

  “My mother used to call them lady stars. They grow well in the north.”

  “They must like the cool weather.”

  He nodded, frowning slightly.

  One of the fountains splashed nearby, glinting in the sun.

  “Where is your mother now?” she asked.

  “She takes care of my cousins back home with the money I send. I was too late to save my father, though. He died before I made any.” His face darkened. “You see, very poor people die of diseases you contract when you don’t have quite enough food. And everyone else steps around them and holds their noses.”

  She could hear the sharp pain hidden in his voice, and she ached for him. She started to say I’m sorry, but then remembered how hollow the words had seemed when Mama died, and didn’t.

  “How could you afford to go to the academy?” she asked softly.

  “I fought my way in,” Reese said, folding his arms. “I fought every rich man’s son, all of them older than me, until I caught someone’s attention. Then they let me in on charity and I became the academy joke…and the star pupil.” He turned away and wandered toward the fountain, a simple stone bowl on a pedestal.

  There was one small, white water lily bobbing near the edge. It called to her; her fingertips tingled.

  “In Equane, we don’t use money,” she said, watching the lily. “Even though I’ve heard about it, I’ve never really thought about having any.”

  “Buying things gives people something to do,” Reese told her.

  “But there was always something to do at home, even without money,” she said, surprised. He was looking at her closely now, his green eyes kind.

  “There was always something to do in Aliddser,” he agreed.

  “Like what?” she asked, smiling.

  He smirked, suddenly a mischievous little boy again. “I used to chase the sheep and make them stampede through town.” She laughed. “I used to try to pluck feathers from wild birds to sell to hat makers, but mostly I got pecked to death for my trouble. I slid on the ice when the lake froze, and hunted for sweet root to eat….And I challenged all the boys to fight.”

  Emeline grinned, quite able to picture it. His expression turned shy, and he glanced away.

  “That’s the Ironers,” he said, pointing.

  She looked up to see a small, crowded shop across the square, its entrance framed by floor-length red curtains tied back with cords. “The women have their hair flattened there with hot irons. It’s the style.”

  Emeline gasped. “That’s why everyone has straight hair!”

  He grimaced and nodded. “Don’t do it. I mean—do, if you like. It’s your hair.” He cleared his throat gruffly. “But it’s ridiculous for everyone to look the same.”

  “I won’t.” But she pulled her hood up self-consciously and muttered, “I should have known it wasn’t just my bodice making me stand out.”

  Reese broke into the same wide grin that she had seen at the practice field. “No living man would object to you wearing that.”

  She blushed furiously and looked away, un
able to meet his gaze.

  “I do like the caps the girls here wear,” she murmured.

  “And I like curly hair,” Reese told her. “The Keldare family that used to come through Aliddser all had red curls. They gave me food, even though they barely had any for themselves. In fact, one of them used to whistle the way you did for the carriage earlier,” he added.

  She laughed, her heart warming. Now she understood why he had been so impressed by the sight of Dale’s armbands.

  “My mama used to do that,” she said. Then it occurred to her to ask him, “Why do some of the girls here wear wings?”

  He snorted. “I don’t know where that fashion came from, but I’ve heard that the Sapients don’t like it.”

  “Because people don’t really have wings?” she asked, still smiling.

  “And the idea comes from folk stories—‘nonsense.’ ”

  “Well, I like it,” she said.

  “Emeline!” Dada called. She jumped, and turned to see him and Fish waving at her. Dale and Aladane dashed over to her and Reese.

  “Fish bought a bullet-gun!” Dale exclaimed. “It was only two payts!”

  “I imagine it’s a beauty,” Reese said, raising his eyebrows.

  “The man in the shop said it’s really old, but it still works!” Dale continued. “It came with five iron bullets!”

  “What are you two doing over here?” Aladane asked. “We’re hungry. Your dada wants us all together again, Em. He says we should go back to the Mother’s Milk.”

  Reese grimaced. “Quaith took you to that place?”

  Emeline couldn’t resist. “The girls there seem to like you.”

  Reese flushed red and frowned. She laughed, and the boys looked at each other, mystified.

  “Well, their coffee drink was awful,” Aladane announced.

  “Al spit up on Emeline,” Dale said cheerfully.

  The other boy was aghast. “Don’t tell him that!”

  “Should we eat somewhere else?” Dale asked Reese, who looked amused now.

  “We have to go to Mother’s Milk because we don’t have money,” Emeline reminded him, but her heart dropped at the thought of separating from Reese. She wanted to keep talking to him, about anything.

  “I’ll take you.” Reese turned and led them through the garden, cutting across the square’s center. Emeline decided not to mention the Sapients that had been watching her. Not yet. She hated to see Dada worry.

  “Bird, you should’ve seen this contraption they were selling from the Outer Lands,” Fish said from behind them, shaking his head. She looked back to see his new, leather-handled bullet-gun slung on his belt opposite his spring-gun. “It had a torch and some kind of propellant to shoot bursts of fire! Now that’s a trick.”

  “No way!” Aladane exclaimed. “A fire-gun?”

  “How did the shop get it from the Outer Lands?” Dale asked.

  “Someone must’ve traded for it at the harbor,” Dada told him.

  “I’m sure they brought it in past the port. Sellers aren’t fond of that harbor tax,” Reese commented. Then he grimaced and added, “Don’t repeat that.”

  “Don’t repeat what?” Dale asked, missing the remark.

  “If I told you, I’d be repeating it,” Reese told him, and Emeline laughed.

  “Oh yeah. But what did you say?” Dale insisted.

  “That the king only eats fish from Equane. He considers it a delicacy.”

  “Yeah, right. The king’s never heard of Equane,” Dale said good-naturedly. Reese smiled and walked ahead.

  followed Reese out onto a wide street, where carriages steamed past and stylish people strode by. On one side was a small lot under construction, with a long wooden wall around it to protect pedestrians from the stonework. Emeline could hear the roar of machinery and the shouts of voices over the wall, but she couldn’t see the workers.

  “What are they building there?” Dale asked.

  “It’s too soon to tell, son,” Fish said, trying to peer over.

  There was writing on the wooden wall, and she stopped to read it. Some of it was in chalk, some in ink, and some even looked like it was in paint.

  TINDA LOVES SENINE with a heart.

  LONG LIVE THE KING—followed by a morbid IT WON’T BE LONG…in different handwriting.

  ARRANE IS A FOOL! and NEVER EAT AT HOT STONE CAFÉ.

  A man in dust-splattered clothes was painting over a passage on one end.

  “Look!” Aladane said, pointing at what he was covering. Emeline gasped.

  The message was scrawled in large, messy red letters: BEWARE THE ITHIN!

  The Equanians stopped and instinctively huddled together. Emeline shivered and tried not to think of the Ithin’s terrible face in the manor, moonlight shining on its claws.

  “Was there a sighting?” Dada asked Reese quietly.

  “There can’t have been! There aren’t any woods,” Fish protested.

  Reese shook his head, watching the worker paint a swath of brown over THE ITHIN and then BEWARE.

  “No, but I’ve seen that before. The Sapients haven’t convinced everyone of their position, that’s for sure.” The warning was gone, and the painter moved a few paces to begin work on the next message; he seemed as unconcerned as Reese. “The Theurgists haven’t either.”

  The knight continued on and they followed, Emeline glancing back at the blank face of the wall.

  Soon they reached buildings that didn’t look quite like shops or houses: They had small, shutterless windows, and there were few front gardens. People bustled in and out of them, carrying packages, satchels, and sheets of paper. Small groups of men dressed in long, dark-colored coats stood in doorways together, talking in serious tones; several of them wore lifted shoes that made them taller, and quite a few of them looked down their noses at the villagers. Emeline grit her teeth. Reese was walking faster now, as if eager to get through.

  “If the council would ever respond to my request, these affairs could be wrapped up,” a man complained to a lady with a large black hat as the two of them rushed by, carrying papers.

  A woman poked her head out of a window and called, “Messenger! Come back, I forgot the signature!” A man on a bicycle loaded up with packages wheeled back toward her.

  Not far behind the bicycle messenger, Emeline noticed a handsome young man in livery. He met her gaze, froze, then ducked into the doorway of a nearby building.

  What did that mean?

  Then it dawned on her: That liveryman resembled one of the two that she’d seen with the Sapients in the market. He was already walking along the road again in their direction. This time, he ducked his head and stopped to wipe something invisible from his shoe when she looked at him.

  “He came in late yesterday too! He’s just not apprentice material,” a man in a striped coat announced to his companion; Emeline had almost walked into him. His tiny leashed dog attempted to dart straight for Reese, but was quickly restrained.

  She looked back again. The liveryman was closer now, but he had stopped abruptly to peer through a window. She was certain he had been with the Sapients.

  Had they sent him to follow her? The thought filled her stomach with ice.

  “Folks are busy around here, aren’t they?” Fish said.

  “This is part of the business district,” Reese told him.

  “Sir Reese,” Emeline spoke up, moving very close to him. “There’s someone behind us.” The knight turned carefully to look, his eyes narrowed.

  “There’s all kinds of people behind us,” Aladane said with a look of disbelief.

  “See the servant, near the garden?” Emeline asked Reese.

  He nodded, unsurprised. “That one was with the Sapients.”

  “What Sapients?” Dada asked quickly.

  “We saw two of them
in the market,” she explained reluctantly. She hated to scare him—but maybe he needed to be scared. Maybe they all did.

  Now that all of them were looking at him, the liveryman wheeled about casually and walked in the other direction.

  “What’s going on?” Fish asked Reese.

  “I think he was following us.” Emeline bit her lip.

  “Perhaps they thought we were headed to our secret meeting with the Theurgists,” Reese said drily. He started walking again, but Dada stopped him.

  “Should we go back to the inn?”

  “I don’t think we’re in danger at the moment.” Reese pointed to an iron gateway up ahead that marked an open courtyard; a broad building of white stone stood beyond it. “This is one of the most esteemed institutions in the capital, Mister Bird, the A.A.S. I believe you wished to see an academy?”

  “What’s A.A.S.?” Dada asked, reluctantly interested.

  “Academy of Arts and Science, officially, but nowadays I’d call it Arts vs. Science,” Reese replied. “A very public place, full of students and their professors. Despite the heated demagoguery that goes on, it is quite safe.”

  Dada nodded, but he put a protective arm around Emeline as they followed Reese toward the gateway and into the courtyard. She glanced up at the arch overhead and saw a banner stretched below it: PUBLIC DEMONSTRATION—AUTOMATONS, 1 O’CLOCK.

  Beyond it, the courtyard was filled with many benches, most of them occupied by young people with their noses inside books. The white building had double doors propped open upon a marble veranda, and there was an enormous, ancient-looking iron clock above them. A plaque read: ROYAL ACADEMY OF ARTS & SCIENCE, EST. 981.

  “Prepare yourselves for real excitement. It seems there’s a demonstration in half an hour,” Reese declared, eyeing the clock. Emeline grinned at his bored tone.

  “What are auto-may-tons?” Dale asked him.

  “No idea.” Reese led the way toward the academy steps.

  Aladane looked around at the people on the benches. “What’s everyone reading?”

  “It’s school. They’re studying,” Emeline told him. The students were catching sight of them; a Lash Knight leading around a family of villagers was obviously an unusual sight at the academy. Some of the students frowned at the Equanians, eyeing them up and down.