"Yes?" The monk who answered the door had his brown robe tucked up into his belt, his sleeves rolled back, hands wet. Megan wondered what he was washing. "How may we help?"
"One for the school, Sysbat." Megan looked up at him and hung onto her mama's hand. Suddenly she was afraid. What if they didn't take her? Or what would happen if they did? She'd be in a strange place where everyone knew lots more things than she did. Maybe she couldn't learn how to read or figure.
"Isn't she a bit young, Teik?" Megan grabbed onto Mama's hand with both of hers.
"She was four this spring. We understood that that was the minimum age for your scholars."
"Four?" The monk looked away in apology for his tone. He was more used to laborers and their children, who were taller, almost like naZak.
"She's beautifully tiny, Teik. Will you come this way?"
"Thank you." They followed him down the grey and black stone stairs. The walls were smooth, as smooth and polished as manrauq could make it. The monk had been using his power to smooth chisel marks in a newly carved niche in the wall, dipping his hands into a bucket of water to cool them.
The light came in from the bluish glass in the roof, glass out of the mountain where the metal was. Any glass now was brought up the river, from Bjornholm or the Empire of Arko. The sun hit the mirrors along the corridors, and where a mirror wouldn't do the light came from kraumak, the glowing rocks as big as Megan's fist. There were quite a few in the halls, probably more than any naZak had ever seen. The first kraumak had been lit five hundred years ago. The manrauq made most naZak nervous. They call us witches, Megan thought, and burn people. The kraumak were in places where torches had been, from the soot marking the ceilings.
They passed rooms filled with books—old books hung on pegs, new books on shelves and scrolls. Their musty leather and paper smell was everywhere, as if it were part of the rock. There were maps on the walls, showing the known seas, or the lands by country. There was a whole wall covered in feathers of different birds and near them… Megan hid behind Ness as they walked by. A stuffed Ri with black-on-black stripes. It was a horse-like creature with a carnivore's fangs bared in a snarl, silver mane falling down into mean, crazy green eyes. It held one leg up with all claws extended.
A live gold squirrel chucked and flicked his tail at them then whisked into a crack in the wall, Megan craning to see where it went.
They passed a hall where a choir was practicing, as the conductor tapped sharply on her music stand. "No, no. Don't breathe after that word. I want the sound to be seamless…" Her voice echoed off red columns, carved with herons and fish. Megan stretched back, trying to see as they passed the open doors, but all she could see was a mass of brown habits at the other end of the hall under one of the skylights. Mama squeezed her hand to warn her not to drag her feet too much.
The monk stopped and bowed them into a waiting room. "Wait here, please," he said. "I will inform the K'mizar of Children that you are here." They sat down on the blue cushions and Megan looked at the green tapestry of the river valley across from her. I'm bored, being good, she thought.
She kicked her heels against the floor and her sandals pushed up till they were balanced on her big toes by their straps. "Megan…" Mama said quietly. "This is very important." Megan sat up straight and tried not to fidget. There was a glass case with the skeleton of a bird in it by the door and Megan wanted to get up and look at it, but she sat still. I'll see it, when I'm here, learning. The rich folk, the Prafetatla, their children had their own teachers, but Megan was lucky that she had access to some schooling.
The door clicked and a woman with grey and red hair looked in and said, "Come along to my office, if you please. I'm Hanya, K'mizar of Children."
"Certainly. We are Ness, called Weaver, and Megan," Ness answered, holding out her hand to Megan as she got up. "Come along, Megan." The K'mizar was a little taller than Megan's mother and very thin. She looked to Megan as if she were made of milkweed fluff, and sniffled as she walked. She wore a brown robe like everyone else, but her belt was red and white and pinned by a metal pin in the shape of a heron holding a candle in its curved beak. She was wearing fleece in her sandals, tucked around the leather, to keep her feet warm.
Once in her office it only took a bit of talk, after they'd shared the salt, to admit Megan to the first class.
A week or two later, Megan sat at the brazier with Brunsc, warming her hands, listening to the rain splash on the shutters. It was cold this morning and her Mama had already gone to the Guildhall. After she went in the student's gate, Papa would walk through the park, then along Svart Road up to Reyeka, to work. In the summer it wouldn't be too dark for her to walk to school by herself in the morning. When summer comes and I'm bigger, I'll be able to go to the park by myself, too.
And then she could help Mama by shopping at the market on Svenina, as long as she didn't talk to strangers. Papa said that slavers preferred younger children, and she'd be old enough to be fairly safe by summer. The Watch patrolled regularly out of the First Quarter and came as far south as two streets up so the neighborhood was safer than either of the Quarters farther down toward the Lake. It had been quieter since most naZak had been chased out of the city by the Woyvode's decree; at least that's what the corner-criers had said.
Ness had a special project at the Guild. She'd left the house so early, to start a lace cloth for Zingas Xvan's wedding.
"Eat your porridge before it gets cold," Papa said.
"Yes, Papa." She didn't like porridge, even when they bought tree-sugar for it. She slapped the spoon in it, splashing.
"Megan!" he warned. She shoveled it into her mouth, telling herself there was milk in it, which she liked. It's good for me. If I threw it on the wall, would it stick? She tried not to taste it, making faces at the gruel as she ate.
Then she hurried because she liked school. She didn't understand why the other kids complained, but didn't say anything because they'd think she was strange. She looked over to the stairs where her boots were waiting. If she had real boots it meant she was old enough to play outside by herself, since only babies ran barefoot. Her boots were red and blue and black stripes with a fringe on top, fallen over on top of her slate and wax-board waiting on the stairs.
She put her bowl in the bucket, hugged Brunsc goodbye, and ran to get ready. Papa's slow. She jumped up on the bottom step and her boot fringes swished. Her braids thumped on her back when she jumped down again. Up. And down. Up. And down.
"Papa, come on!"
"Don't be impatient, bylashka. I'm coming." like a grownup with always one more thing to do or put away. The bed was made, its doors closed, the bucket was full of water for the dishes to soak until Papa or Mama got home, whoever was first. He put the window pole down after he finished closing the shutters and pulled his coat on.
It had stopped pouring but was still wet, cold enough to make her nose prickle inside, the air full of water; a heavy fog, almost a light drizzle. Ice coated every brown grass blade in the yard, slicking black on the wall. Most of the roses were protected under the overhang but some of the leaves and branches, coated with ice, hung down rattling as if made of stone.
She hung onto Papa as they slid down the street and he showed her how to keep her balance by sliding purposely instead of trying to walk and slipping. Her slate and waxboard banged on her back, bouncing on the leather strap as he slid her around him, laughing.
They slid around the corner into the colonnade of Student's Walk and saw Vyaroslaf and his children ahead of them at the gate. Lixand went quiet because he didn't like his co-worker and would have to be polite and walk to work with him. Then tonight, when he came home, he'd be unhappy and tell Ness how much trouble there was at the Gospozhyn's Hall in the Guild. Since she was busy doing something special she'd have been in one of the quiet rooms and wouldn't have heard any of it. Megan thought that if Teik Vyaroslaf Vritaskovych ever smiled his face would break.
"Good morning, Teik," he said to Lixand. Roszivi
y, behind her papa, stuck her tongue out at Megan. She had pushed Megan yesterday and almost made her drop her slate. Her brother, Leonid, had stepped on Megan's foot because his big sister told him to, but Megan had stuck him with a pin later and he'd gotten in trouble for yelling in class. Megan smiled to herself, remembering. They were mean because she was smarter than they were. She was already in their reading group and Sysbat Karlovna had said she was quick. Leonid was the littlest in the class, next to Megan, but she knew her words quicker.
"Good morning, Vyaroslaf. The spring is late this year, is it not? Study hard, Megan." Papa patted her and she went in the gate with Rosziviy and Leonid.
"Megan eats worms, baby Megan eats worms!" Leonid hopped both feet together down the steps in time with his chant.
"She's gotta because her daddy's got lower zight than our daddy," Rosziviy said, and giggled. "He's gotta be po—li—ite!"
"He does not! I do not! He isn't. He's lots better than your papa. He's a better weaver 'n anybody! You're lying!" They were all on the lower stairs by this time, and the other kids had stopped playing around in the waiting hall and stood around watching.
"I'm telling!" Rosziviy said. "I'm not a liar!"
"Eats worms," Leonid squealed and jumped down from the bottom step onto the floor. Megan jumped on him and the other kids gathered around them. He fell down and didn't fight back, just yelling, "TEACHER!"
Megan was picked off him by her tunic and shaken. "Megan!" It was Sysbat Karlovna, frowning. "Fighting? I'm disappointed." Leonid was sitting on the steps blubbering, even though he was bigger than Megan and last week had blackened her eye in a fight outside the school.
"He's just trying to get me in trouble! He… he said—"
"He didn't say anything, Sysbat." Rosziviy's best friend Danacia interrupted. "She just hit him." Rosziviy was whispering in her ear and they both laughed.
"I did not!"
"Megan, that's enough!" Karlovna angrily shook her again before thumping her down on the steps. "One more word and you'll go speak to the K'mizar. We were worried at letting you in so young, but we've apparently let a vixen into our midst."
It wasn't fair. She looked at their blank-paper faces and Rosziviy's smug one.
"Leonid, stop sniffling and wipe your face. Come to order, children." Sysbat Karlovna let go of her and swept into the classroom followed by the other children, leaving Megan alone on the stairs. "Megan, come!" She looked at the open door, not understanding how it could have gone so wrong, so quickly.
She dragged her feet down the steps, thump, thump. Her fringe swished but she didn't like it anymore. Everyone sat in the circle on their cushions by the big slate-board. She walked all the way across the room to her box and opened it. The hinge squeaked and everyone watched in silence. She put her slate and waxboard away, pulled her boots off, and sat down on her cushion. Sysbat started the Icicle Song, but Megan didn't try very hard to remember the words.
Leonid stopped singing when Sysbat Karlovna turned to help Elexiy and whispered, "Just wait, Megan Vixen, we're gonna get you."
Her waxboard was cold as she hugged it. The Assembly Hall seemed much bigger and full of frightening echoes with no one in it but her. The herons stared down from the pillars as if she were a frog, and because they took the extra lights away when not needed, the hall was shadowed around the edges.
The K'mizar had said she needed extra help with numbers from Sysbat Tenara in the library and although Megan knew the Hall now, and the classrooms, she'd never been in there.
She hid in the shadow of one of the pillars, away from the heron on it, peeking around at the library door. Rosziviy said that the librarian was a naZak who stuffed stupid little kids and put them in the museum. Rosziviy's dumb. Then Leonid said that the little kids weren't supposed to go in the library or the museum or the oscasa— the bone museum—and if they were caught, the librarian put their bones in the oscasa with the other skeletons and then stuffed them for the museum. He's dumb too. They're both lying. But Vika said they had people's bones in there and he wouldn't lie.
The library door stood in the shadows, closed. Was she supposed to knock or just go in? She tried to comfort herself with the knowledge of all the books behind that door, and that thought kept her from running away; that and the hope that the Sysbat wouldn't be there.
Megan looked down and counted the black tiles between her and the door as she stepped on them. One. And one is Two. She could put both feet on one tile. And one is Three. She was far away from the pillar now and hugged her waxboard tighter to her middle, wishing she had Brunsc there; or Mama or Papa.
Somebody slammed a door in the upper gallery and it echoed around against the walls; Megan ran back to the pillar, telling herself she wasn't scared, but waiting until the echoes had quieted before coming out again. One. And one is Two. And one is Three. I did those already. The other kids were just being dumb, just trying to scare her. And one is Four. The door looked very heavy. Maybe it's locked and I’ll just go home before it gets dark. And one is Five.
Rosziviy couldn't laugh at her for being a scaredy-mouse if no one were there. And one is Six. And one is Seven. She could try to open it, then go home. And one is Eight, and one is Nine, and one is Ten. She scratched her neck. And one is Eleven. She looked up at the big rosewood door, shivering. I'm there.
She put down her board, reached up to the black glass doorknob that was slippery but turned; click. The door hinges gave a tiny mouse's squeak and it stopped, open just a crack. She picked up her waxboard and wiggled through the narrow opening.
On one side there stood a desk with a shaded kraumak on, making a blue puddle of light on all the papers. In the dim light she could see cabinets on either side and the bony tail of a skeleton poking out behind them. It was quiet, except for a big clock that sounded like the one in the Guildhall that was taller than Papa and had brass gears and a brass pine cone on the bottom swinging in time with the tick. Her papa had told her that it was one of the only ones in the city.
This tick sounded like something big breathing. In the back Megan could see low desks and sitting cushions. One of the cabinets was open.
It smelled of books, of leather and thick pages, glue and dust. There was a sharp odor, high and thin and acidic from the museum she guessed, and the oscasa. Encouraged by the silence, she slid along the wall, peeked around the corner of the open cabinet. Someone getting up from putting a book away on a low shelf almost bumped into her. "Oh!" Megan squeaked and dropped her waxboard.
The person getting up hadn't touched her, but both were startled. Megan turned to run but the woman put a hand on her shoulder and stopped her.
Sysbat Tenara was a giant, taller than her parents, taller than anyone, with long blond hair and blue eyes, and a long nose and a square-shaped face. The Arkan spectacles she wore made her eyes look like blue marbles in jelly pudding. "What are you doing in here, sneaking around?" She spoke with a strange accent that clipped and slid around some sounds. Her voice was deep and as firm as if she hammered nails with it.
Megan tried to explain. "I'mmm not sn—sneaking. Th-the K'mmmizar's-s-sent…"
Sysbat frowned down at her. "Megan, yes, that's the name," she said. "I recall. Humph. Well." Then she squinted down at Megan. "You're shaking, child. Are you all right?"
Megan couldn't say anything, couldn't answer, looking up at the Sysbat who looked down at her. Is she deciding where to put me?
Then the teacher sighed and shook her head. "I don't eat children. I don't stuff them and put them in the museum. I don't boil them up and put their bones in the oscasa. I don't even snarl at people unless they hurt my books, despite any stories the other children will have told you." She half-smiled with one corner of her mouth. "Even if I am from Arko, I'm not a barbarian." Megan sniffled.
"Here," Tenara said, and directed the child over to the desk. "The K'mizar said you needed extra help with your numbers." She wiped Megan's eyes and nose with a big white handkerchief. "Blow your nose. Today I'l
l just show you the library, tomorrow we'll worry about arithmetic."
I suppose she needs a kerchief that big because her nose is big, too. I'm ashamed that I cried. Only little kids cried, Vikoria said, and she was in the third class above Megan's, almost halfway to being apprenticed. Megan bit her lip and tried to smile and the librarian smiled back.
1 is a smithy, a steel-maker's hoard.
Megan tried to make her letters as neat and tidy as Sysbat Tenara's. She'd been the librarian for a long time and said that Megan should try to put the numbers with words to help her remember them.
If she copied the verse out neatly tonight, then she could use the sheet of new paper Sysbat gave her, write it in ink and it would get put up on the children's board. Megan had taken the precious sheet of paper and put it away in her box at school, between the pages of the counting book, so it wouldn't get crinkled or dirty.
2 is a two-fang instead of a sword.
Her hand hurt, so she put her stylus down for a while. She was lying on her stomach on the rug and traced the outline of a green flower in it with her finger. When she did her homework she got to use her Papa's lap desk. She pretended her finger was a pink caterpillar trying to crawl up one of the snort legs.
"Megan, are you doing your homework?"
"Yes, Mama, just resting."
"Well, don't rest too long, you have—" Ness looked over her daughter's shoulder, her hands wet and soapy "—eight more numbers to go, and two extra lines."
"Yes, Mama." Ness had come home early today, mad at someone, she said, but not at Megan. The child picked up her stylus again and chewed on the flat bone end, though she shouldn't because it was the end she used to smooth out mistakes in the wax. It already had teeth marks.
Ness dried her hands and trimmed the wick on the lamp, then went to her cushion, picking up the lace-frame, though she didn't want to work on it, Megan could tell.
3 is a laceframe whose teeth are all broken. Something had happened at the Guildhall, Megan thought. Something loud and with lots of shouting.
Shadow's Daughter Page 2