by Karen Brooks
'Y– you don't understand,' he stammered. 'How could you? You, who have nothing to fear –'
'Nothing?' the woman sneered. 'How little your kind understands.' She looked contemptuously at Quinn. 'Get her out of my sight.' Pillar ignored her at first, pulling out the ends of his shirt and using it staunch the blood. The woman clicked her tongue in exasperation. 'It's only a flesh wound. It'll stop bleeding. It's certainly no worse than what's she's inflicted on this child.'
She turned back to face me, the energy of her earlier actions controlled as she slowly cupped my face and tilted it towards the light again. I winced as she rotated my chin. 'More than a few times, from the look of these scars. Get her away before I change my mind and take her head now!' Pillar scooped his sobbing mother into his arms. 'And then join us. I need to talk to you.'
She waited until Pillar had left the attic before she spoke again. 'Are you all right to walk?' The kindness in her voice brought tears to my eyes. My chest became heavy, my throat tight. Only Pillar had ever spoken to me like that before, and only when we were alone. I couldn't respond – the words wouldn't come, not yet. I nodded.
'Come then, we'll get you downstairs in front of the fire, tend your wounds and feed you.' She arched an eyebrow. 'But not before we wash you. You stink!'
It was then I realised I was covered in filth – grease, sawdust and strings of vomit. I glanced over her shoulder at the floor. 'I was sick.'
'I can see that,' said the woman. 'With everything you've been through today, I'm not surprised. You need care and rest – lots of it!' The woman looked me up and down, the gentlest of smiles on her lips. 'So, you're called Tallow?' The woman looked at me so boldly, unafraid, relaxed even. It took my breath away.
'Y– yes.'
Before I could move out of reach, she ran a finger down my arm. My nerves were aflame. She lifted it to the light, examining the grey fat and grit that coated the tip. 'How appropriate,' she said. 'Unoriginal, but appropriate.' She smiled again and I found my lips curling until the split on my lip tightened; I winced, my hand rushing to my mouth to prevent any sound escaping. 'Come on,' said the woman, frowning, but not in anger. 'Your wounds won't heal themselves. Not yet, anyway. The old bitch has seen to that.'
Wrapping an arm around my waist, she practically carried me down the stairs. While I wanted to focus on the feel of her body next to mine, her warmth and strength, I couldn't move past what she'd called Quinn. I didn't know whether to discourage or cheer her. I was dumbfounded by the turn of events. For some reason, this miserable night had brought a champion to my room. But I decided that I would keep my counsel, at least until I knew why this woman was here.
'By the way, my name's Katina,' said the woman as we reached the kitchen. She pulled a chair closer to the fire and sat me in it. She kneeled beside me. She was so tall that our faces were level. I immediately lowered my head and dropped my eyes, but my heart fluttered. Katina placed a strong finger under my chin and forced it up. 'Look at me,' she whispered. 'Don't be afraid.'
I grew hot and then cold. My pulse pounded in my ears. But something within me began to respond to Katina's coaxing. Against my better judgement, against all that I'd had drummed into me my entire life, I threw aside caution and slowly returned her earnest gaze.
There was a sharp intake of breath. 'By the gods!' said Katina, staring. 'I thought I was right when I saw you at the taverna, but I never expected ... What the legend says is true. The child with mirror eyes.' She placed her warm palms on either side of my face and gave a long, heartfelt sigh. 'Do you know how much trouble you've put me through, young lady?'
'I'm no lady ... I'm a –'
Katina cut me off. 'You can stop that particular pretence right now, my girl. I know exactly what you are and so do you. It's time at least to think of yourself as female. You owe yourself that.'
I wanted to leap from my seat and run into the night. I wanted to put as much distance between me and this woman's treacherous words as I possibly could. My mind raced, my body tingled. I wanted to deny her, accuse her, most of all escape her. But another part of me whispered of liberation. Somewhere, deep in my heart, something unlocked. I allowed myself, for the first time in memory, to feel – not only my body, but my real self. The me I'd kept buried and hidden my whole life. It was not Katina I needed to fight, it was myself.
I screwed up my eyes as my lips began to tremble. I slowly raised my hands until they covered Katina's. She gave a soft gasp and with great care slipped them out from under mine until my own flesh rested against my battered face.
Tears spilled and trickled over the back of my hands. I followed their course with my fingers, ignoring their sting. A huge sigh escaped me and I opened my eyes. It was over. My masquerade was finished.
'You're right. I ... I'm a girl.' The idea was strange, foreign. I wasn't even sure I liked it very much. 'I'm a girl.'
Katina gave a half-laugh that sounded more like a cry. 'Ah, my poor ragazza. What have they done?' As she leaned closer and pressed her forehead against mine, I allowed my hands to drop into my lap. 'I've been to hell and back for you.' Katina's fingers replaced mine once more and, as she stroked my cheeks, I winced. Her calloused fingers passed over bruises and grazes, but I relished the unaccustomed caresses.
I didn't know what to say to her. 'I'm sorry,' I finally whispered and closed my eyes again. The weight of Katina's forehead pressed against my own. It was warm, reassuring; a melding of flesh and perhaps, I fancied, even minds. Katina's breath circled my cheeks, the silkiness of her hair tickled my nose. I sat perfectly still, not daring to speak, to breathe, lest the moment end, lest my confession be proved false somehow and break this unaccustomed intimacy.
'Don't be sorry. I'm not,' said Katina finally. 'Not now – about anything.' My eyes flew open and she sighed deeply and then smiled. I noticed she had a dimple. 'You see, Tallow, I've been waiting for you for a long, long time.' So many lifetimes.
And then this strange, wonderful woman did the most shocking thing of all. She released my face abruptly, sat back on her knees and, taking my filth-coated hand in her own, she kissed it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Secrets revealed
I COULDN'T MOVE. I JUST sat there. The soft pressure of Katina's lips against the back of my hand and the tender touch of her fingers in mine made me shiver. I didn't want the sensations to stop. But they did. She rose and, with a pragmatism that belied her last gesture, slapped and pulled her skirt into some kind of order before striding into the kitchen to take stock of what was there.
I knew that particular moment would be burnt into my memory forever.
Pillar rejoined us only when I was clean and wrapped in a blanket, my cuts dressed and my ribs bandaged. I was sipping a mug of cafe – something I'd only ever tasted a few times in my life. Katina had even added something from a small flask she kept in a satchel she'd brought with her. It made my insides burn.
'Do you want some?' Katina offered Pillar as he closed the door at the end of the room and stood behind the chair opposite mine.
Ignoring Katina, he addressed me. 'She's sleeping now. The cut wasn't as bad as it looked. Long but not deep.' I watched Pillar's fingers march along the back of the chair before they closed around the wood in a white-knuckled grip. 'It's the shock more than anything. No-one has ever done anything like that to her before.' His eyes slid to where Katina now sat, a tic in his cheek working rhythmically as he spoke.
'Maybe if they had, she wouldn't be so free with her hands and feet,' said Katina. Not waiting for Pillar to respond, she poured another mug of cafe, adding a generous splash from her flask. 'Come on, sit down. I know you're furious with me, but it's hard to tell you anything with you standing over me like a thundercloud.'
Pillar glanced towards his mother's room, at me, then at Katina. Emotions played across his face, colour flooded his cheeks, but he pulled out the chair he was holding and sat down hard. Katina pushed the mug towards him.
Pillar stared at it for a m
oment and then took a cautious swallow. He coughed a bit and smacked his lips appreciatively. Again, he addressed me, talking to a point just over my shoulder as was his custom. 'Makes a difference, a little bit of spirit in the cafe. Warms you up. Good for the soul on a wild night like this.'
Katina didn't seem to be at all concerned by Pillar's lack of manners. On the contrary, she studied the room – whether in disdain or appreciation, I couldn't tell. The fire played against her auburn hair, throwing a glowing halo around her head, making her seem even more mystical and unreal than she already did. She had enormous brown eyes that were speckled with silver. Strange eyes. They missed nothing and I could see by the way she was scrutinising Pillar that she was constructing a history for him. Slender, she was also muscular. Veins ran in cords along her forearm and wrist, newly defined as she lifted the mug. She hesitantly placed her full mouth against the rim and tipped the mug. Her cheeks changed shape as she tasted the drink, savouring it before drinking like a thirsty sailor. She wasted no time refilling her mug and emptying it again. She must have been parched.
It was hard to tell how old she was. There was something timeless about her. I don't know how else to describe it. She was lined, not in the weary way that Pillar and Quinn were, but in a way that made me think of sunshine and darkness all at once. And, as I'd noticed in the taverna, there was something incomplete about her. The strength of her personality was almost overwhelming, but what I sensed lacking was more to do with spirit – as though she'd exhausted some ephemeral part of herself that could never be recovered. I wondered who she was and why she was here. And, above all, I wondered why she'd kissed my hand.
'Drink up, boy,' said Pillar, nodding towards my cafe. 'It's good.' He'd all but finished his.
'You can drop the pretence, candlemaker,' said Katina, her lips curling into a half-smile. 'Tallow and I have already had this conversation. I know she's a girl. Why, she's practically got breasts.'
I almost dropped my mug. Pillar did. It fell from his frozen fingers and rolled on the floor before coming to stop before the fire. He didn't pick it up. He just stared at Katina, his tic working overtime. Katina was right. I had breasts – small ones, yes, but breasts all the same. They were bandaged flat to my chest under my shirt. My hands rose self-consciously, as if to protect them.
'What do you mean?' asked a horrified Pillar.
'Come on! You can't be that ignorant! The girl's growing, changing. Why do you think she's suddenly started broadcasting her abilities all over the place? Why do you think that after fourteen long years of searching, I was finally able to find her?'
We both stared at Katina. I tried to hide the anticipation rising within me. Pillar forced a blank expression onto his face.
Katina looked from me to Pillar and back again. She groaned and dropped her head into her hands. 'Of course,' she mumbled. 'Now I am being stupid. You either don't know what you are or, if you do, you're not going to admit it, are you?'
I hesitated. If I answered either of her questions, we'd all be in trouble. If I stayed silent, she would think me a fool and judge Pillar more harshly than I sensed she already had. Instead, I dissembled.
'I'm not sure what you mean. I'm a girl ... and I'm a candlemaker's apprentice.'
Katina sank back in the chair and shook her head. 'We're not going to play this game, are we?' Neither Pillar nor I answered. 'Right. That's all you are. A girl, masquerading as a boy, who makes candles.'
I shrugged.
'Why do you disguise her as a boy?' The question was aimed at Pillar.
He shrugged. 'It seemed the right thing to do. And, anyway –'
'Yes?' prompted Katina.
'When I first found her there were some very odd people, soldier types and others, looking for a baby girl. We didn't want them to take her. So, we figured, Mamma and me, that if we said we had a boy, we wouldn't be bothered by them – and we were right.'
'That's not the only reason though, is it?' persisted Katina. 'Boys can be put to work. Girls, well. Apart from domestic duties, they just cost money, don't they?'
'Well, yes, I guess.' Pillar flashed me a guilty look. 'But you're putting words in my mouth. I didn't care what Tallow was, boy or girl. I wanted to keep him ... her. I wanted to teach her. The child has real talents. He ... she,' he corrected again, 'would have earnt her keep, no matter what.'
Katina arched a brow. 'And what sort of talents are these, Tallow?'
I didn't answer immediately. The question was designed to trip me up. 'I don't know,' I began cautiously. 'I'm good at making candles. At least, I was.' Memories of my recent efforts taunted me.
She tipped her head and regarded me solemnly. 'Let me tell you what I think. I think you know you're ... let's say, different. That you're capable of doing things, wonderful scary things, but you don't know how to control the urge to do them or what happens afterwards.'
'I don't know what you mean,' I said belligerently.
Katina stifled a laugh. 'Oh, come on. You're telling me you don't feel what others are feeling? That whenever you touch an object, its entire history, its emotional and physical life, its very essence, doesn't burn its way into your own heart and mind? Are you going to tell me that you can't catch hold of those feelings and make them stronger or change them? And that this hasn't been happening more over the past few weeks?'
How could she know so much? I tried to keep my astonishment and fear from showing.
'Your guardians know.' She jabbed a finger towards Pillar. 'They know what you are and what one day, with the right training, you'll be capable of doing. All Serenissians do. That's why you're forbidden from meeting people, from looking at them. That's why you've been beaten ...'
'That's not true. It was only –' began Pillar, and then stopped.
My heart began to thump so hard that it caused me both pleasure and pain. At last, my curiosity was being assuaged. Pillar's protests were meaningless. This woman knew – she knew it all. The question was, how? And why was she here?
'Tallow keeps her head bowed,' Katina pressed on, 'and her eyes lowered. You trained her well – or should I say, you made her too afraid to do anything else.' She flashed Pillar an accusatory look. 'But when you know what you're looking for, eyes like that stand out. Yet it was still a while before I got to stare into them, before I knew for certain.' No-one spoke. The fire crackled. Katina reached down and picked up Pillar's mug. Banging the residue out of it, she refilled it. This time, she left out the cafe.
'Knew what?' I asked quietly, knowing deep down what I would hear.
'That you, my dear Tallow, are an Estrattore.'
Pillar drew his breath in sharply. Outside, the rain fell in a steady rhythm against the window. The wind roared, yet it didn't come close to matching the noise in my ears.
There, someone else had said it.
I am an Estrattore. An outcast, a heretic; one of those doomed by law to die. I summoned my courage. If Katina was right, then I wanted to know exactly what I was. 'Who are the Estrattore?' I asked. 'What are they? What am I?'
Katina rose to her feet and took time to gather her thoughts. Finally, she turned towards me. 'Estrattore are born, not made,' she said. 'They're part of an ancient bloodline, one, according to legend, that descends from the original inhabitants of this world of Vista Mare – the first gods.'
'You mean God,' muttered Pillar. 'There's only one.'
Katina ignored him. 'It's said they carry the old magic deep in their blood. The power of the ancient gods themselves.'
Magic! I couldn't believe I'd heard that word uttered under this roof.
I heard Pillar mutter a prayer. I wasn't sure if it was because Katina dared to speak so openly of pagan gods or the Estrattore. But I knew he considered her words blasphemous.
I didn't. I relished every single one of them. Even though they scared me, these words were starting to fill the enormous blank that was my life until now.
Katina changed tack. 'It used to be easy to tell an Estrattore from
everyone else. All Estrattore are born with silver eyes. It's said they don't look out on the world the way ordinary mortals do, but inwards, to its very core.' She leant towards me. 'Your eyes are the purest silver I have ever seen. They reflect everything – objects, people.' She tore her gaze away.