She thought of going back, but Jorge wouldn't believe that she'd come this far unless she brought proof. So she slid along the wall, to a door in a lean-to, and found it locked.
The lean-to's roof let her get to a window that was open just a crack. It was dark inside, and even though the pane was only open a bit, she was small enough to wiggle through.
She found herself in a warm room that smelled of books. When she peeked from behind the drapes, she saw the full shelves, as many books as the Sysbaet had. Megan wanted to take one, thinking surely the Wizard wouldn't miss just one, then thought better of it. A book was too expensive; all she needed was a little thing.
There were thick rugs and a pile of furs and cushions near a cut stone fireplace. The objects lined up all along the mantelpiece were too high for her to reach. She started as a board creaked outside, and hid behind a globe of the world on a stand taller than she was, but nothing else happened.
To one side the shine of glass drew her eye, and she tiptoed to look at a low shelf of bottles full of colored liquids. She squinted at one shadowy jar and flinched back when she realized she was staring at the toothed mouth of a pickled lamprey as long as her arm. Next to the bottles was a cat skull, like in the Sysbaet oscasa.
On the shelf above was a bell shining in a ray of light from the window. She picked it up to read the writing on the rim but couldn't make it out. As she lifted it, it rang, and she grabbed the clapper, wrapping her mitten around the bell and stuffing it in her shirt. Jorge'd believe her now. As she turned away from the shelf, something hissed at her from the near corner.
She ran, wiggling out the window but getting stuck half way because of the bell. Frantically she squirmed, trying to worm free. It'll get me. I don't want to be here ever again even if there are books there are things with yellow eyes in the garden and things that hiss and look like big grey shadows. She wiggled free just as a light bloomed behind her.
She looked back over her shoulder. The Wizard stood in the door, with a light shining around her hand. Megan almost fell through, and clung to the windowsill roof.
The Wizard, a woman with long, curly black hair and eyes the same yellow as the statue in the garden, wore blue trousers and a shirt gleaming rainbow colors under a black vest. She had a half-smile on her face, more frightening somehow, than a frown. Her hand whipped down, as if throwing something, and Megan ducked, slipping, feeling an ice wind graze her head as she slide down the roof and rolled into the snow. She jumped over the fence and ran and ran and ran. Shell catch me. She knows who I am.
"Megan!" somebody called in the dark ahead, and she tried to stop but ran right into Ivar and they both fell. I got out. They got up and the whole pack was there, asking questions, but she just shook her head.
They all went back to the Ground where it was safe. I'm all wet and dirty and I lost my other mitt.
"So?—Didja get in?—Nah, she couldn't—didn't— didja?—Hey… where'sa thing you said yah'd steal?"
Jorge looted down his nose and yelled "QUIEEEETTT!" It took a bit, but everybody shut up. "So?" he asked.
She stared at him a minute, then pulled the bell out of her shirt. He grinned all across his face and whooped, "Ya did it! Ya did it! Hey, Megan, yeah!" He pounded her on the back in congratulation and hugged her. Serkai lifted her up as high as he could, which wasn't very high, and they fell in the snow. She rubbed his face with her wet mitten and laughed.
When they'd all quieted down, Jorge took the bell. He yipped and dropped it as if it had bitten him. It rolled over, ringing, and stopped against Megan's boot—TING. It rang louder than such a small bell should, and everyone held their ears.
When it stopped they waited, standing frozen, for someone to come and yell about the noise, but no one did. Jorge shook his hand and said, "I'm not touching 'at again."
"Wh… whad is it?" Egon whispered from where he hid behind Eula.
Megan didn't want to touch it either, but since she already had and it hadn't hurt her, she picked it up. It was cold, but that could be because it had been lying in the snow. "Just a bell, but it was too dark to read the letters on it in her house."
"Shee-it."
"Megan, I don' think the Ragman'll buy that," Marin said. " r you gonna keep it?"
Megan didn't want to, but didn't know what else to do and stood there, biting her lip, looking down at the bell.
"Well, you took it. You did sumin' Jorge Dared you ta. That's goodnuff ain't it?" Aage said slowly. "I kin take it to my dad's forge and melt it. Yeah kin sell the metal."
"Would you? Please, Aage?" She only had her one mit to wrap it, so they found a scrap of burlap bag instead.
"I'll do it now, then," he said. "Wait an' I'll come back."
He took it and the rest of them all sat in the fort they'd made out of boards with snow for chinking. Every one patted Megan on the back and told her that she belonged. She enjoyed every minute, and though the idea of stealing from the Wizard still made her feel sick, she didn't show it. I wish I had Rilla with me. She's kin. I don't have to prove anything with Rilla. Blizzard wind was starting to whip the falling snow by the time Aage came back.
He came back with a worried look on his face, still carrying the wrapped bell. " 'twouldn't melt," was the first thing he said. "I threw it into the forge an' it just lay there. I poked it an' it just lay there. My da's hottest fire." He looked at the bell, polishing it back and forth with the bag. "I showed Da."
"What!"
"Din' say where 'twas from. He told me give it back, get rid of it."
Now everyone was looking at Megan. "I'll find somebody who'll take it," she said defiantly. "Piss, it's just an old bell."
"Yeah, here." He threw it to her and she caught it with her bare hands. TING. She put it back in her shirt, and it lay like an ice cube next to her stomach all the way home.
She hid it in the bottom of her bed. I don't know what I'm going to do. I belong with the Cooper's kids but I've stolen the Wizard's bell. At night, when she lay down, it made a cold lump against her feet.
Chapter Seven
"Are you feeling all right, bylashka?" Ness felt Megan's forehead a few weeks later. ' You might be fevered; and what's wrong with your hair, here?" She pushed Megan's hair back from her temple, exposing the roots. Megan pulled away.
"I'm fine, Mama." Megan had just been thinking about the bell. Her papa had gone to visit Aunt Marte and Rilla to see how they were after the blizzard wind stopped. It was still snowing, filling the streets to the height of second-story windows again. They'd planned on going to Teik Sandar's for a Dagde Vroi party later if the tunnels were open.
Ness appreciated the gap under the door now because it became the draft for the brazier, all along the floor unfortunately, but it was still warmer than not having a fire at all. She could keep the fire burning and it wouldn't use up their air. Candlers made it into the City only rarely once the snow set in, driving up the price of candles so most of the River and Lake Quarters made do with wadiki lamps when they didn't drink the fuel rather than burning it for light.
Most people smelled of wadiki in the wintertime— wadiki and sweat. Megan sniffed, looking into the brazier's coals. Our room still smells a little wet, but not so much. It smells more like home, like us.
She hadn't been able to sell the bell, though she'd tried. The Ragman had just shook his head, flat no—no bargaining. Next she'd taken it to the Market and somebody told her that only a naZak would buy it because it was too "powerful." The silversmith who couldn't read the words on the bell either, had looked at her and said, "Take it back to whoever owns it, if you know."
She hadn't told her parents about it, or about the Wizard. Her head had been cold at one temple, ever since she'd ducked the Wizard's gesture. I don't know what to do. She considered throwing the bell over the fence and leaving it to be found, but the Wizard had seen her steal it. The Wizard knew.
Megan stirred the spoon in the 'maranth porridge, trying to think of anything but the bell. I used to
pretend you made porridge with milk instead of water and there was tree-sugar for it. Mama got a treat a while ago. She bought some raisins. That had been when she'd been accepted as an apprentice to a jewelry-maker named Yneltzyn, on Teik Varik's recommendation.
It was good there was some money coming in, because Papa didn't make much in the winter and still had to pay to keep his place on the street. He could work as a storyteller at the Rusty Cup on the Stairs if their regular performer, Vilischch, wasn't there, but it wasn't steady. Mama asked me to do a lot of glass picking before the snow fell.
Ness looked at her daughter poking at her food, sighed, and said, "Megan." The girl finished eating in a rush, scraping the bowl clean. Papa would be home soon, and if they were lucky all the snow would be packed down when Days of Fools started, tomorrow.
"Get your slate, bylashka," Ness said after they'd cleaned the dishes. This summer, Megan had found a slate tile in the Grounds and brought it home.
Now, Mama, when she wasn't working or weaving something or trying to patch clothes or anything else, was teaching her Enchian with the slate and a lump of chalk. Lixand could speak Enchian but not read or write it. Ness had learned when she was a little girl, and it was because she could speak to naZak that the jeweler had wanted her. The Woyvode had announced, through the city's corner-criers, that naZak would be allowed back into the City and there would be more business, even if they had to stay in the naZak enclave in the River Quarter.
Ness and Megan sat down by the kraumak on the cushions, thinner than the ones lost in the fire because they couldn't afford as much horsehair or wool to stuff them. But Mama had gotten bright blue cloth from her friend Arvi, called Weaver, and the color made the room brighter. With the fire in the brazier on one side and Mama sitting hugging her, she was nice and warm.
"Pamld I'Enchais?" Ness asked. Do you speak Enchian?
Megan thought for a bit. "Putre 'nepu, tipu," she answered. Only a little, a tiny little.
"That's good, Megan-mi." Ness hugged her. "Now how do you say, 'hello'?"
"Juur!"
"And good-bye?"
"Ummm, reyiv?"
Ness laughed. "Yes, but without the 'ummm'."
"Tamee, mar!" That meant, "I love you, Mama," and Megan hugged her.
"I love you, too." They both turned, startled, as the door was hit hard enough to jump on its hinges. Ness sprang up and as she did, the door slammed open so hard it hit the wall. Lixand stood in the doorway, snow-covered, holding something cuddled in his arm. He'd kicked the door open. Megan had never seen him so angry before; she could see it by the way he moved even under the layers of wool over his face.
"Lixand, what's happened? What's wrong?" Ness went to close the door and help him.
"Careful, that's Rilla," he said, handing the bundle to Ness. His face, as he unwrapped his scarf, was white with two bright red spots on his cheeks and over his eyes. "That bitch. That bloody, vicious bitch." He pulled off his coat. "If she weren't my own sister I'd kill her." Megan ran to help her mother but Lixand shook his head, no. "Megan, go hang up my clothes instead."
Mama unfolded the blanket wrapped around Rilla and made an unhappy sound. "We can't afford a healer, love."
"I know. Megan, run and get Dmitrach."
"Papa, what's wrong with Rilla?"
He took Megan's hand.
"Your aunt hit her too hard. I took Rilla away from her for a while. She'll be staying here."
"I'll run."
"That's my girl," he said, letting her go with a pat.
Dmitrach was the healer for the whorehouse, usually only for little things and birthings, but he might be able to help.
The hallway was dark except the cracks in the winter walls, and Megan could see her breath in the needles of bright shining between the boards as she ran around the near side to the door at the head of the hall that separated the rented rooms from the Peach.
It was early and Megan didn't want to disturb anyone, but she knocked anyway because she had to, for Rilla. Boryis, Dimi's lover, answered the door. She could tell he and Dmitrach weren't taking customers tonight, resting up for tomorrow, because he wasn't wearing his fancy clothes.
"Hi, Meg. Problem?" He ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair and smiled at her.
"Boryis, we need Dimi to help my cousin,'s he here?"
He winked at her and said, "Your cousin, sweets? Is he good looking?"
"She's littler than I am and we need a healer, not sex," she said, and he stopped teasing, his face sobering.
"Sorry." He turned, calling into their rooms, "Dimi!" The healer came out, pulling his robe on, his hair tied back and no makeup on his face, but he woke up quickly when Megan explained.
"Dmitrach, Papa says we can't pay you right away…"
"Shush on 'at noise, sweets. Ay' cum." He looked plain in a shabby, worn robe out at the elbows, but Megan thought he was one of the most beautiful people she knew right then. He grabbed his kit.
When they came in, Lixand had Rilla in the wallbed and Ness had some chai brewing. Papa didn't look angry any longer, just tired and sad. He called Megan to him while Dimi went to look after Rilla. "Stay out of the way, Megan."
"We're not going to Teik Sandar's party, are we?"
"No, Megan-mi. There'll be other parties." She sat with Papa and they waited, watching Ness and Dimi at the wallbed.
After a while, the healer came over and settled down next to them with a sigh. Lixand handed him a cup. "Ay'm no Haian," Dimi said. "But ay think she be fine. Near ay can tell,'t arm's not broke, just out. I put her shoulder back, 'n the littl'un bruised bad. "Time worried "bout's her not wakenen." Megan could tell he was worried because his out-city accent was very strong.
"Her mother shook her hard enough that she was dizzy and vomiting when I came," Lixand offered. "And saw what was going on."
Dimi shook his head. "'s bad, that. Her brain's shook, good." He put the cup down, went back to the bed. Ness held the kraumak closer while Dimi looked in Rilla's eyes one, then the other. "Well, nuh. She wakes up soon, she be fine. Mightbe 'f you call her, 'll help."
When Papa tried to say something about money, Dimi shushed him. "It's a present for the Days, forget it, Lixand."
He's got his city accent on again. Megan went over and climbed in the bed next to Rilla.
"Bedtime, bylashka," Ness said.
"Mama, may I stay, pleeeeese. I promised Rilla, I promised!"
Ness kissed the top of her head and let her hold Rilla's hand. "No hugs, now. That would hurt her, Meg."
"Okay."
Rilla's face had bruises on it, blue and green and some old ones, yellow and faded. Megan lay down and held onto her hand, whispering in her ear that people would be mad if she went away and that Brunsc would be lonely and that she'd think Rilla was a turkey-head if she didn't wake up.
Piss on Aunt Marie. She's what Jorge calls an asshole. She is. She is. You don't hit kin. You don't hurt kin.
Megan roused late that night, when Rilla did. Mama and Papa were smiling and Rilla was acting sleepy and slow but understood that she was supposed to stay awake for a while to make sure she was au right. I'm sort of dreaming and everything's foggy and my eyes don't want to stay open. Papa said, "Go back to sleep Megan, well look after Rilla.' So she did.
Next time she woke up, Ness was in the bed with the two children, which made it a bit crowded. Megan wondered sleepily where her papa was, thinking that maybe he was in her bed, behind the rickety wooden cupboard bed, out of the draft.
Rilla hung onto Ness, who held her cuddled close, with both hands. The wallbed doors were ajar and the cold crept in around the edges, but it was warm and smelled of feathers and wool and her parents. Megan scratched an itch then lay still, thinking that she had to get up because she'd dreamed of what to do with the Bell. She climbed carefully over Mama's legs, opened one door a crack, then closed it quick behind her so the warmth would inside. She hissed between her teeth as her feet hit the cold stone floor.
; The Wizard saw me. She looked right at me and threw something at me. My head still feels cold there. If she wanted to get somebody's hand broken, it would have already happened. So I've got to go give it back. Maybe I should tell Serkai in case she decides to turn me into a bird and keep me in a cage.
"Megan," Papa whispered from the kitchen corner, where he was cutting bread. "Happy Days of Fools." He'd gotten some proper leavened bread instead of flat bread and it was still warm from the baker's. Megan put out the big plate they still had left from her mother's good set. Though they no longer had separate plates, they still had that. That, and a table because Aunt Marte had given them her old one and Teik Varik had sanded down the burns and scars. Megan didn't like it much, the old stains showing like ghosts as if Marte's presence were haunting them, but it was theirs now, anyway.
Lixand spread the bread with a little nut butter and Megan got a cup of chai with milk and a whole handful of raisins because it was festival. The rest of the First day, everyone would eat only flatbread and drink chai without milk or anything sweet, but first thing in the morning everyone got a treat.
Mama got up and went down the hall to the privy, while Papa put her cup out and Megan plumped her pillow for her.
"Uncle?" Rilla called from the bed. "You said I could stay last night. Can I stay here? Pleeese?"
"You may stay with us for a while, Rilla. I mean to have some words with your mother."
"I'll be good, I promise."
Papa looked unhappy. "You're a good girl, Rilla, I'm sure of that—No, no, don't get up, stay there and I'll see you to the privy in a minute." Then he looked at Megan. "Megan?"
"Yes, Papa?" She looked up from where she was pulling a splinter off the table. He was holding the bell out to her.
"What's this?"
"A bell, Papa."
"I know, Megan." He set it down on the table in front of her where it made no noise at all, not even a click as it was set down. "I want to know where it came from and why it was in the bottom of your bed."
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