The Valley of Ten Crescents Series (Box Set: Books 1-3)

by Tristan J. Tarwater

  “What parent doesn’t wish for their child to follow in their footsteps?”

  “How many parents are thieves?”

  “More than would admit it, Celeel.” Another pause filled the room and Tavera finished her drink, wondering how long Old Gam and Derk had known each other, that they could talk without talking. It must have been a long time indeed because the silence dragged on and Derk puffed on his pipe in an irritated way. Tavera was starting to pick up on what anger did to Derk’s face and it was there, making his eyes dark and his face tight. The little girl could feel her stomach fluttering, as if the fish had come back to life as nervousness rose in her belly. What if Old Gam was right? What if the Cup of Cream wouldn’t take her? And if Derk realized that now, what would happen to her? He had rescued her twice now but he hadn’t made any vows, had he? Tavera didn’t want to start crying, not here in this woman’s eating room. Old Gam’s opinion obviously mattered and she couldn’t have the woman thinking she was meant for swaddling clothes. So the girl just stared at the cloth that was on the table, trying to think about something else.

  “What does Hock think about all this?”

  “Tits, so many hemming questions!” Derk shouted. He threw his hands in the air and walked to the door, grabbing his cloak.

  “Where’s you going?” Tavera asked as loudly as she could manage, a touch of panic making her sit straight up in her seat. Derk fastened his cloak about his neck and pulled the hood up, looking to Gam with a bit of ire still in his eyes.

  “Night prayers,” he said, pulling back the latch on the door. “I’ll be back before bed, don’t worry.” He gave Old Gam another look of anger before he opened the door with a yank, letting it slam behind him.

  Tavera felt her guts unravel within herby Tristan J. Tarwater as fear stuck in her throat. But Old Gam chuckled and said, “Good, he’s gone. Now it’s just us girls.” Tavera looked at her, frowning, not understanding for a moment but Old Gam winked at her. Tavera pressed her lips together, not sure what to expect from Old Gam. The woman cleared her plate and picked up her sewing, sitting in Derk’s seat and looking over the bit of needlework. “Do you know how to sew?” she asked, not bothering to look up.

  Tavera just shook her head and Old Gam shook hers and made a sound with her tongue against her teeth in disapproval. “You should learn. It’s good to know how to do many things. Besides snatch.” Now Old Gam looked at her, brown eyes looking at the little girl almost kindly. “Besides, Derk is not exceedingly handy with a needle and thread. You should take care to learn.” She stood up and dug around in the box she had been sitting on and pulled out a needle, thread and piece of fabric, taking the few steps she needed to set them before Tavera. “Maybe you can make a little pillow or something. For a doll.”

  “I ain’t got no dolls,” Tavera said, staring down at the items helplessly. Her hands were still a bit greasy and she wiped them on her skirt, Old Gam making another sound of disapproval.

  “No dolls? And how has he got you dressed? Stand up now!” Tavera huffed before she stood up, hands together and held in front of her. She could manage to hold her head up at least and she did, looking at the woman. Closer up Tavi could see freckles on Old Gam’s face. Stray curls hinted with blond and no make up made Gam’s features warm and natural. Her brown eyes looked the little girl over. There was a bit of humor in them and a bit of disapproval. “Your hair’s too short. But he found you that way, didn’t he?” Tavera nodded, not wanting to admit the reason why her hair had been shorn all those phases ago lest the woman fear for her own hair. “An ash-dyed dress. If you knew how to sew, you could have prettier clothes, like me. Like all little girls want.” Tavera just shrugged in reply. She didn’t mind the clothes she had. They were warm and they mostly fit. It was big around the middle so many a snatched item had made its way into the top, stopped by a simple sash tied above where her hips would eventually be.

  “Plus you could turn one dress into another piece altogether. A bit of lace, a ribbon. Maybe a dip in dye if you have the time.” Tavera noticed the needlework around the neckline of Old Gam’s dress. Starbloom danced along the edges of the fabric, the stitches in what had once been white. “This dress used to be barley brown and now look.” The dress was blue now, much to Tavera’s surprise. She knew that people dyed fabric to make it different colors. Sheep and goats only came in a few colors but never in blue or green or yellow. “There’s more to taking than just taking, is what I’m trying to tell you, little one,” Old Gam said, pushing the sewing towards her again, gesturing for her to sit down. Tavera sat down with a thump, knocking the sewing off the table as she did. “There’s transforming, there’s changing over. Quickly and with the right people.” She handed the sewing back to Tavera. “See if you can sew a circle, dear.” Tavera looked down at the fabric, wondering how she was going to lay it flat.

  “D’you have something to…keep the cloth tight?” Tavera asked, holding the needle in her hand. Old Gam smiled and set her own work down, retreating into the back room for a moment. Tavera noticed she didn’t bring a light into the room and figured the woman knew the layout of the chamber and its contents by heart. The woman opened something large and moved things around, returning with two wooden hoops, one slightly smaller than the other. She took the fabric from Tavera and laid it over the smaller hoop, pushing the larger hoop over the fabric to keep it in place. The corners of Tavera’s mouth lifted slightly, seeing the fabric laid out before her, imagining the circle that could be.

  “So, you can smile?” Old Gam said, laughing. She sat back down, arranging her skirts under her before she took up her work again, sewing quickly as she spoke. “It’s also important to have the right tools. It’s good that you asked for the hoop, Tavera. No point in making things harder for yourself. If there’s a tool, use it. The Goddess knows that Derk uses them when he can. He stole some tools of mine once. Never bothered trying to replace them, did he. Rummaged through my things and when I awoke, they were both gone.”

  They both sat there sewing for a few breaths, Tavera watching Old Gam’s hands occasionally as she thought about what Old Gam said about Derk and trying to figure out why she said it. Derk had spoke positively of Old Gam on their way to Portsmouth but in their short conversation she had been harsh with him, trying to get him to leave. For what? To get Tavera alone to see if she could sew a circle? Tavera squinted her eyes and drew the thread up, careful to leave a tail so as not to undo her work.

  “Do you know what being in the Cup of Cream is all about, Tavera? Or Kiffer? He calls you that sometimes, right?” They both kept sewing and Tavera imagined the circle in the fabric, pushing the needle through and up again.

  “It’s about taking things and being happy about taking them. It’s about being the best,” Tavi said finally. She was halfway done with the circle.

  “And it’s about getting rid of the worst.” Tavera nodded at Old Gam’s words though to be honest, she wasn’t sure exactly what that meant. Derk had mentioned it but never laid out who ‘the worst’ really was. During their phases together she had seen him deal with some characters that might be considered the worst, laughing with them, playing cards with them, buying their drinks and cheating them out of their money. He used them as lessons for her, telling her who to watch for what, asking her what she noticed about them and rewarding her with a piece of dried fruit or a treat if she caught something exceedingly difficult. When she noticed that Dip bit his bottom lip when he was considering bolting for the door, she was given a whole blueie to spend on whatever she wanted. She still had it, tucked into her boot. It wasn’t the best place to hide it, she knew. But at least it was hidden.

  “Weak animals are always culled from the herd,” Old Gam said. She could look at Tavera and sew at the same time which made Tavera’s ear perk, impressed. “Too many fleas and the dog will scratch. Do you understand?” Tavera heard the questions and she thought she understood. Skinny little fingers pushed the needle through the fabric and back through.
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  “So…the Cup also gets rid of bad takers. But….” Tavera’s large mouth frowned, a question forming in her young mind. “If they’s only good takers, won’t the law take notice? And answer them, skill for skill?”

  Old Gam laughed again, her laugh that was a mixture of a chuckle and a cackle, reaching over and pushing Tavera’s hair behind her good ear. “You are smart, aren’t you?” Old Gam stopped before she said something, Tavera saw it on her mouth and in her eyes but she held back. “The key is balance,” she continued, going back to her needlework. “If there were only excellent takers scheming in the cellars and bars of the Valley they would all fight among themselves and yes, you’re right. The swordholders would notice and have to act accordingly. The locks would get better, the risks would be higher which some wouldn’t mind. But the fact of the matter is, there will always be other kinds of takers. Some are middling good, some aren’t half bad, some are terrible. And they all have their reasons. Some need to feed their families and are forced to take. They generally stick to food, things they can easily sell. Some take for others. They work for other people, for someone else’s pocket.” Again, Old Gam paused, letting the statement hang in the air. Tavera felt as if it were supposed to bother her but it didn’t. The little girl kept on sewing, her circle almost complete.

  “And some do it for themselves. Because it’s fun.” That was why Tavera took, more than for need. That’s what had pushed Tavera’s little hand forward that first time ever. She hadn’t been hungry and the street vendor was closing up, putting the unsold tarts away into a crate to take home. The market day had been winding down and so the amount of people on the street was starting to dwindle.

  As always, no one seemed to notice the little girl with the greasy black hair so she waited till he had space for three more tarts in the crate before she started walking towards the stand, reaching for it right when he had turned around to put the little crate on the cart, the filling smashing into her palm as she grabbed it and walked as steadily away as she could, the pace of her legs slower than the thumping in her chest. Prisca asked her where she had gotten it but Tavi shrugged and offered it to her in order to divert her questions. But the first time had led to a second and a third and soon Prisca caught on and showed her the little crawl space in the room.

  “Yes, there’s the thrill. Probably one of the few kinds of thrills you can have, being your age.” Old Gam smirked at this and gave her a look, a look that Prisca had given her sometimes when bringing up her age. “But it’s only thrilling if you don’t get caught, little one. Get chased but don’t get caught. Ever. Let the bad ones get caught, to keep the brown cloaks happy, to make them think they’re doing their job just right. The sloppy ones, the cruel ones, let them all have their turn in the dregs. The worst. They ruin it for everyone, my dear. Not just people like Derk and I.” The woman’s hands stopped moving and she smoothed the fabric out, looking it over, a stray brown curl falling into her face. “Tell me, Tavera, who is the worst person you know?”

  Tavera stopped sewing. She was a few stitches from being done but the question was put to her and she had to think about it. Plenty of people had been mean to her but she hadn’t received the worst treatment out of all the people she had met in her short life. She still had all her fingers and toes. She heard some block lords sometimes took them from people who owed debts. Maybe the man who had taken her from her father was the worst, though she didn’t know his name. And she barely recalled her own father’s face. Did that make her the worst person she knew? A little girl who couldn’t remember her blood father’s face?

  “Who cut your ear?” Old Gam asked. Tavera tightened up as the question shot through her, sharp as any knife and just as cold. She pressed her lips together and stared down at the circle she had sewn, just two stitches needed to finish it. Old Gam placed her sewing on the table and she put her hands on the edge of her own skirts, lifting them up to show a pale leg. Fine brown hair grew on her skin and several moles dotted it but as she pulled up the garment, a large, pink scar appeared, the remnants of a burn long healed but still ugly. Tavera wasn’t sure if she was supposed to look away or not but she felt compelled to stare.

  “When I was born,” Old Gam said, breaking the spell of the horrible scar but still holding Tavera’s attention. “I had a birthmark on my leg. It covered my whole thigh and it was blue, believe it or not, or so I recall. Probably closer to purple. In any case, my pa was a very strange man with strange ideas which is why he moved my ma and me and my little sister to the Freewild shortly after she was born. A holy man, he called himself. Sent by the goddess Herself to rid the Valley of the taint of the evil ones. Mind you, he most loudly proclaimed this when he’d drank a bit of the goddess’ gift, if you hear me.

  “Well, my pa started to say that I was marked for evil. The birthmark was proof of it and he went on to say my mother must have done something to taint the offspring so. He went on and on, condemning us, shaking things at us. Sometimes he built fires in the forest and danced around them under the moon in self styled robes. We heard about it from the other villagers. Other times he would leave us, to rid himself of us evil ones. Sometimes my ma kicked him out. But Lover’s Day would come and the cold always drove him in.”

  Old Gam stood up and walked over to the little hearth, shaking her skirts back into place. A small stack of twigs and wood was stacked by it and she threw in a few, not cowing before the flames as they leaped up to lick at the fuel. “Well, one night,” she started again, watching the fire as she stood there, her skirt painted orange by the light. “We were all sleeping in the bed together as we were wont to do to keep warm in the cold times. I didn’t even hear him. But I saw him standing over me, the light from the coals he dropped on my leg making his face glow like something from the Goddess’ hems, eyes wild, mouth wide in a judgmental scream. And then his eyes were wide not with fervor but pain. My mother hadn’t thought to put the coals out on my legs but she did kill him. She broke his back with the ax. You don’t mess with a woman from the Freewild. I passed out from the pain shortly after. They got me to a priestess in the Valley proper for healing but there was no medicine for him. No moonflowers grew over his grave. Just the fluttering of dark wings, I suppose.”

  Old Gam came back to the table and sat down. She set her elbows on her knees and laid her head in her hands, gazing at the little girl before her. “So you see, we have something in common. We’ve had people mistreat us. I doubt you did anything to deserve such a cut, you don’t seem very insolent and you seem very fast.” Old Gam raised her brows at her. “So…who did it?”

  Tavera could feel her mouth dry out and she wished she hadn’t drank all of her beer. Her heart thumped in her chest and she traced a skinny finger around the circle she made, wishing she could finish it and wondering when Derk would be back. But Old Gam was staring at her and she had asked and she had shared. Tavera could still imagine the scar on the woman’s skin and she couldn’t help but feel her own skin crawl and pull tight and itch on her legs. Biting her lip she cleared her throat and forced herself to speak.

  “I…when I’s with my father’s debt holders, they cut it. And they sent it to him. Since he couldn’t read. To make him pay. I…” She sucked in her breath and held it for a moment before she spat the last bit out. “I don’t think he ever paid. So they sent me to the Blocks.” Everyone knew what the Blocks were. Tavera had gotten off easy for a little girl from the ‘Wicks. Orchard work, gleaning, fish gutting and finally…sausage making. She still hated sausages to this day. Tavera put her hand up to where her ear was cut and frowned.

  “There, there,” Old Gam said. She sat up and knelt besides the little girl and she hugged her, letting Tavi bury her face in her neck. Old Gam smelled like milk and sleepspice and Tavera tried to remember what her mother and father had smelled like but could only remember Derk. His skin, the tobacco he smoked, the oil he put in his hair and the iceleaf he chewed sometimes, occasionally mixed with alcohol.

  “And d
on’t you think that people like that…they give the rest of us a bad name, don’t they? Not every person from the Freewild is like my pa and not every gambler and debt taker is like those people who did this to you.” Old Gam smiled and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “And if you’re good at what you do and as clever as Derk says you are and you stay sparkling like you are, you’ll get to set things right. And have fun on the side.” Her brown eyes strayed down to Tavera’s lap and she smiled. “Look, you’re almost done. I’ll make you a bedtime drink. Derk’ll be back soon.” She ruffled her hair with her hand, and it made Tavera grimace with annoyance which, in turn, made Old Gam laugh. She went back to the kettle and threw some herbs in and stirred it with a wooden spoon, coming back to sit while it steeped.

  Tavera finished her circle and she smiled at it, a crooked little smirk. A circle was harder than a square, she told herself and she had made a perfect circle. Tavera had decided she had admired her work enough and was about to hop out of the chair when Old Gam spoke up. “Has he ever mentioned a woman named Sindra?”

  Tavera shook her head and looked at Old Gam’s face, trying to figure out what she was looking for. Derk hadn’t mentioned anyone by that name. “I don’t think so,” she said finally. “Just you.” The little girl’s words made color come to Old Gam’s cheeks though she didn’t look up from her work. Tavera stood next to Old Gam and looked over her shoulder at her work. It was a handkerchief with daggerleaf crawling over the edges in a pale green, the red flowers popping at the corners. “Who was she?” she asked, not sure if she should say the name. Was that the woman she was supposed to look like?

  Old Gam just sighed, managing a few more stitches as she did. “Just some woman your pa used to fancy when he was younger. I never met her but she was around, if you catch my meaning.” A bit of annoyance showed in Old Gam’s face. Apparently she didn’t like to be on the receiving end of some questions. Tavera focused on the handkerchief Gam was sewing, surprised to see the progress the woman had made in the short amount of time.